#girls who think of each step they make as starting a revolution.

[lilacerull0]

spinning something mal wrote in my head like a lunatic

[ateez-ana]

America days 2018

The members of ATEEZ and Ana are in the middle of an intense dance class. Sweat drips from their foreheads and the music echoes in the room. They strive to follow the complex steps, perfecting each movement under the watchful eye of the instructor.

you guys are working very hard. you are a very talented group says one of the choreographers who is outside the building next to hongjoong who is waiting for the others to finish changing to go to the apartment to rest for a while Thank you, I am sure we will achieve great things.

And Ana… is an exceptional dancer. She has a bright future ahead of her. The choreographer does not hesitate to praise the girl, Ana is known for moving like water itself, she is a dancing machine, I know. She is an integral part of our group. Hongjoong does not hesitate to smile at the mention of the girl, Ana sometimes doubts her performance since it is difficult for her to think that she has to show what she is caple of in a group full of boys

Scary monsters:

they walk through a dark and gloomy hallway of a haunted house. The suspense increases with each step they take. Suddenly, a monster jumps out from hiding, causing Wooyoung and Mingi to scream in terror.

wooyoung is holding on to Ana Aaaah! I'm dying! Anyone listening to the boy would think he was being tortured.

Mingi who is hiding behind Ana juts keep screaming Save me, Ana! Please! This guy really thinks that a girl who is three heads shorter than him is capable of keeping him hidden.

Ana, despite her own nervousness, tries to calm them down with a smile. Calm down, guys. He is nothing more than an actor.

Yes, Wooyoung! They're just pretending! yeosang can only laugh at the boys' childish attitude

Wooyoung and Mingi look around, still shaky, but Ana's smile and Yeosang's jokes make them feel a little better.

.....

They find themselves in a water attraction, with water guns in their hands. Upbeat music plays in the background as they prepare for battle.

hongjoong believing himself to be the leader of the french revolution scream to everyone Prepare to get wet! Let us begin!

The members shoot water at each other mercilessly, laughing and having a blast. Ana, with her precise aim, becomes one of the main threats.

Ana points her gun at san Get ready, San! You cant get away!

San protects himself with his water gun, but Ana surpasses him in speed and soaks him completely.

You're a liar! you told me we were teamining against Johno but your words are not worth it!

Ana with a triumphant smile just said war is war San, you dont have friends in battle

....

They are in a photobooth, surrounded by extravagant costumes and accessories. They look at each other knowingly, ready to have fun.

yeosang took a pirate hat Look at this! I'm a fierce pirate!, wooyoung is putting on a pink wig And I'm a pop diva!

Ana laughs and puts on a flower crown. Ana making a funny pose do you think i look like a fairy

Members take photos with different crazy poses and comical faces, creating unforgettable memories of their day at Universal Studios Hollywood.

hongjoong is looking at the photos They are amazing! We're going to have to put them on our debut, Ana only look at him with a malicious smile on her face…. but why did you put on a costume if you already came dressed as a miniom?

While strolling along the Santa Monica Pier, they stop at an ice cream shop to try exotic flavors. Their faces of surprise and disgust when trying some of the most daring flavors cause laughter among them and the ice cream parlor's customers. Hongjoong, as always, is responsible for ordering the most classic and safe flavors.

On their walk, while they are doing silly things they start to dance a little freestyle, two young people approach them, which changes the atmosphere into a very fun moment between all the training.

Hey, I loved dancing with you. Would you like me to give you my phone number? one of the young boys ask her Ana, kindly but firmly, answers:I'm sorry, but I have a boyfriend. The boy looks around and laughs softly, is one of them your boyfriend?… Ana just nods. Hongjoong, who is watching this, is a victim of the boys' laughter and exaggerated comments. Wooyoung, wanting to bother him a little, just hits him in the shoulder while he laughs. You have competition and American, if I were you, I would do something before she finds Chris Evnas on the street. and run after him...

Hongjoong approaches Ana and takes her hand, smiling lovingly at her, with "a threatening look at the boy" Ana sees him confused… are you constipated from the ice cream?

.....

While they are walking, Hongjoong gives her a cute balloon in the shape of a dog that is doing a mime Here you go, Ana. A gift for the sweetest girl in the world. Ana smiles and takes the balloon, delighted with Hongjoong's gesture.Thank you, Hongjoong! Is beautiful!Hongjoong watches as Ana hugs the balloon lovingly and feels a little better. At least I can compete with a dog-shaped balloon.

[richincolor]

New Releases Week of July 17, 2023

What a week! There are so many books to get excited about this Tuesday.

Just a Hat by Shanah Khubiar Blackstone Publishing

It’s 1979, and thirteen-year-old Joseph Nissan can’t help but notice that small-town Texas has something in common with Revolution-era Iran: an absence of fellow Jews. And in such a small town it seems obvious that a brown kid like him was bound to make friends with Latinos–which is a plus, since his new buds, the Ybarra twins, have his back. But when the Iran hostage crisis, two neighborhood bullies, and the local reverend’s beautiful daughter put him in all sorts of danger, Joseph must find new ways to cope at home and at school.

As he struggles to trust others and stay true to himself, a fiercely guarded family secret keeps his father at a distance, and even his piano teacher, Miss Eleanor–who is like a grandmother to him–can’t always protect him. But Joseph is not alone, and with a little help from his friends he finds the courage to confront his fears and discovers he can inspire others to find their courage, too.

Firebird by Sunmi HarperCollins

Caroline Kim is feeling the weight of sophomore year. When she starts tutoring infamous senior Kimberly Park-Ocampo–a charismatic lesbian, friend to rich kids and punks alike–Caroline is flustered . . . but intrigued

Their friendship kindles and before they know it, the two are sneaking out for late-night drives, bonding beneath the stars over music, dreams, and a shared desire of getting away from it all.

A connection begins to smolder . . . but will feelings of guilt and the mounting pressure of life outside of these adventures extinguish their spark before it catches fire?

I’m Not Here to Make Friends by Andrew Yang

Terrace House meets Loveboat, Taipei in this fun, frothy, incisive YA debut, following two teens and their unforgettable summer on a reality show.

When Sabine Zhang is picked for Hotel California, a teen reality show with an all-Asian cast, she jumps at the opportunity. As one of few Asians at her high school in the Midwest, she’s always felt as if she was playing a side character in someone else’s story. But on this show, she’ll finally have a chance to step into the spotlight.

All Yoona Bae wants is to get away. The girls at church think she’s mean, her mom thinks she’s a troublemaker, and she’s tired of fighting against her unearned bad reputation. So when she’s invited to appear on Hotel California, Yoona sees it as an opportunity to chill out, make some friends, maybe even get a tan.

But life on the show isn’t all sunshine and self-actualization. The producers want drama at all costs, even if it means pitting Sabine and Yoona against each other. With the season finale looming, can the girls figure out a peaceful way forward, before they lose control of their own narratives?

Frontera by Julio Anta, Jacoby Salcedo (Illustrator)

Mateo makes the dangerous journey back home to the United States through the Sonoran Desert with the help of a new friend, a ghost named Guillermo in a supernatural borderland odyssey by debut graphic novelists Julio Anta and Jacoby Salcedo. As long as he remembers to stay smart and keep his eyes open, Mateo knows that he can survive the trek across the Sonoran Desert that will take him from Mexico to the United States.

That is until he’s caught by the Border Patrol only moments after sneaking across the fence in the dead of night. Escaping their clutches comes at a price and, lost in the desert without a guide or water, Mateo is ill-prepared for the unforgiving heat that is sure to arrive come sunrise. With the odds stacked against him, his one chance at survival may be putting his trust in something, or rather someone, that he isn’t even sure exists. If you’d asked him if ghosts were real before he found himself face-to-face with one, Mateo wouldn’t have even considered it.

But now, confronted with the nearly undeniable presence of Guillermo, he’s having second thoughts. Having spent his afterlife guiding migrants to safety, Guillermo knows things about the Sonoran Desert far beyond what could be explained by a mere hallucination. But even as Mateo forms an uneasy partnership with Guillermo, survival is still uncertain. The Sonoran Desert, with its hostile temperatures and inhabitants, is teeming with danger as the Border Patrol and rogue militias prowl its deadly terrain. As his journey stretches on, Mateo will have to decide exactly what and who he’s willing to sacrifice to find home.

A Guide to the Dark by Meriam Metoui Henry Holt

You can check out of Room 9, but you can never leave.

The Haunting of Hill House meets Nina LaCour in this paranormal mystery YA about the ghosts we carry with us.

Something is building, simmering just out of reach.

The room is watching. But Mira and Layla don’t know this yet. When the two best friends are stranded on their spring break college tour road trip, they find themselves at the Wildwood Motel, located in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. Mira can’t shake the feeling that there is something wrong and rotten about their room. Inside, she’s haunted by nightmares of her dead brother. When she wakes up, he’s still there.

Layla doesn’t see him. Or notice anything suspicious about Room 9. The place may be a little run down, but it has a certain charm she can’t wait to capture on camera. If Layla is being honest, she’s too preoccupied with confusing feelings for Mira to see much else. But when they learn eight people died in that same room, they realize there must be a connection between the deaths and the unexplainable things that keep happening inside it. They just have to find the connection before Mira becomes the ninth.

Under This Forgetful Sky by Lauren Yero

In the spirit of Paolo Bacigalupi and Laini Taylor, this futuristic star-crossed love story follows two teens in a starkly unequal world struggling to find their place.

Sixteen-year-old Rumi Sabzwari has spent his entire life behind the armored walls of St. Iago, which protect citizens of the Union of Upper Cities from the outside world’s environmental devastation. But when rebels infect his father with a fatal virus, Rumi escapes St. Iago, desperate to find a cure.

In the ruined city of Paraíso, Rumi meets fifteen-year-old Paz, who agrees to guide him on his journey. As they travel together, Rumi finds himself drawn to Paz—and behind her tough exterior, she begins to feel the same way. But Paz knows more about Rumi’s father’s illness than she’s saying and has her own agenda. With the powerful forces at play in their cities putting them at odds, can the two learn to trust in each other—enough to imagine a different world?

Clementine and Danny Save the World by Livia Blackburne

You’ve Got Mail gets a YA twist in this rom-com that spotlights the power of activism and community organizing in the face of gentrification.

Clementine Chan believes in the power of the written word. Under the pseudonym Hibiscus, she runs a popular blog reviewing tea shops and discussing larger issues within her Chinatown community. She has a loyal, kind following, save for this one sour grape named BobaBoy888.

Danny Mok is allergic to change, and the gentrification seeping into Chinatown breaks his heart. He channels his frustration into his internet alter ego, BobaBoy888, bickering with local blogger Hibiscus over all things Chinatown and tea.

When a major corporation reveals plans that threaten to shut down the Mok’s beloved tea shop, Clementine and Danny find themselves working together in real life to save this community they both love. But as they fall hard for this cause—and each other—they have no clue that their online personas have been fighting for years.

When the truth comes to light, can Danny and Clementine still find their happily-ever-after?

I Am Not Alone by Francisco X. Stork Scholastic Press

Alberto’s life isn’t easy: He’s an undocumented immigrant from Mexico who lives with his sister’s abusive boyfriend—but he’d always accepted his place in the world. Until he starts hearing the voice of a man called Captain America, a voice that wants him to achieve more, no matter the cost.

Grace has it all: She has a supportive boyfriend, she’s on track to be valedictorian, and she’s sure to go to the college of her dreams. Still, nothing feels right to her any more after the divorce of her parents, and feels she needs something more.

When Alberto and Grace meet, they have an immediate and electric connection. But when Alberto is present at the scene of a terrible crime, he becomes a suspect. And with his developing schizophrenia, he’s not even sure he believes in his own innocence.

Can Grace find a way to prove Alberto’s innocence to himself and the world?

This is a page-turning thriller and a sensitive story about mental health, love, and community that will appeal to anyone who has struggled with their place in the world, from award-winning author Francisco X. Stork.

What a Desi Girl Wants Sabina Khan

The romance of Becky Albertalli meets the nuanced family dynamics of Darius the Great is Not Okay in this YA novel from acclaimed author Sabina Khan.

Mehar hasn’t been back to India since she and her mother moved away when she was only four. Hasn’t visited her father, her grandmother, her family, or the home where she grew up. Why would she? Her father made it clear that she’s not his priority when he chose not to come to the US with them.

But when her father announces his engagement to socialite Naz, Mehar reluctantly agrees to return for the wedding. Maybe she and her father can heal their broken relationship. And after all, her father is Indian royalty, and his home is a palace–the wedding is going to be a once-in-a-lifetime affair.

While her father still doesn’t make the time for her, Mehar barely cares once she meets Sufiya, her grandmother’s assistant, and one of the most grounded, thoughtful, kind people she’s ever met! Though they come from totally different worlds, their friendship slowly starts to blossom into something more . . . Mehar thinks.

Meanwhile, Mehar’s dislike for Naz and her social media influencer daughter, Aleena, deepens. She can tell that the two of them are just using her father for his money. Mehar’s starting to think that putting a stop to this wedding might be the best thing for everyone involved.

But what happens when telling her father the truth about Naz and Aleena means putting her relationship with Sufiya at risk . . .

The Legacy of Yangchen (The Yangchen Novels #2) by F.C. Lee Amulet Books

Avatar Yangchen has succeeded in bringing a measure of stability to Bin-Er, but her successes have been limited to a single city, and rumors concerning Unanimity—a weapon capable of total obliteration—have led to increasing tensions among the Four Nations.

Desperate to restore diplomacy, Yangchen attempts to de-escalate hostilities between heads of state. But in the wake of a brutal assassination and the freeing of Unanimity, Yangchen is forced to bring Kavik—the trusted former companion whose betrayal crushed her—back into her fold.

As the Four Nations teeter on the brink of conflict and she begins to unravel the power-hungry Zongdu Chaisee’s true agenda, Yangchen is forced to measure the worth of humanity, and how much can be sacrificed in the name of balance.

This taut and provocative fourth installment in the Chronicles of the Avatar series follows Avatar Yangchen as she charts the course of her legacy, finally making peace with her choices and facing Avatarhood with the courage it demands.

Splintered Magic (The Mirror #4) by L.L. McKinney Disney Hyperion

Can dreams come true when you’re living with a family curse?

NEW YORK CITY, 2000

Twins Trey and Tai are not like other high schoolers. Trey struggles to suppress his surging magical abilities, which continually impede his dream of making first chair cello in orchestra. A budding photographer, Tai just wants to take pictures and maybe find someone to take them with. But disturbing images keep appearing in Tai’s camera lens, reigniting the twins’ search for their mother, who mysteriously disappeared ten years earlier. As the two discover more clues, Trey and Tai also uncover strange secrets about their magical ancestors and about a cunning villain who threatens their very survival. Together, Trey and Tai must work to unearth the past and preserve the future of their family.

The Mirror: Splintered Magic is the fourth book in the innovative YA fairy-tale quartet following one family—and the curse that plagues it—over several generations.

[bronanlynch]

ship ask meme: IBO ship or five of your choice

hi sorry I know you literally asked this long enough ago that we've started and finished another whole entire gundam show since then but

mika/orga

What made you ship it? I mean I was always compelled by their dynamic from the beginning bc mika is shooting people without hesitation for orga right away but. the moment when I realized how much I shipped it was when mika snaps orga out of his grief from biscuit's death by. picking him up by the collar with one hand and saying that orga needs to pull himself together and tell mika who else to kill. that's romance, to me,

What are your favorite things about the ship? the extremely intense level of mutual trust and devotion and also shared ideology is incredibly compelling to me, is the thing. a gay communist ship for gay communists. constantly thinking abt the bit where mcgillis tries to manipulate mika by implying that he's just going along with what orga is doing instead of doing what he actually wants and mika just completely shuts him down because they Are actually on the same page and they Do want the same things even if mika doesn't usually put his ideology into words the same way. also extremely tasty that for most of the show they're doing an extended gift of the magi thing where mika is turning himself into a weapon for the sake of the new world that orga is trying to build, and orga is trying to build a new world so that mika doesn't have to keep turning himself into a weapon

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship? ok. listen. I know that the show did not handle mika's disability particularly well but listen. as a fandom we can and should do better. disabled people can and do have sex, I promise you mika can fuck without being connected to the robot

kudelia/atra

What made you ship it? well you see. sometimes I see a girl blushing and complimenting another girl and I simply think they should kiss (also I went in knowing that they were endgame so. I was primed to read into their interactions)

What are your favorite things about the ship? I like how often they're both like "so we're both in love with mika and also each other" and how they make it clear that they are all in love with each other and want to support and help each other. also I love the stuff (especially in season 1) that was like. kudelia being able to put words to things that she didn't necessarily have firsthand experience with but atra does like. theory gf x praxis gf. kudelia understands the relationship between imperialism and capitalism and atra understands that the first step to getting anything done is to feed people when they are hungry. also their ending is that one poem abt like. the long distance relationship between a city lesbian and a country lesbian (want by joan larkin) and I love that for them. I wish season 2/the fanfiction on ao3 had more abt them leading a revolution together bc I do think both of their perspectives are so important and I want to see them talking abt rhetorical strategies and supply lines while also kissing and making each other soup

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship? I mean it's femslash I'm sure there's plenty of bad takes out there for me to disagree with. like I have beef with whoever edited the wiki so that atra is listed as kudelia's wife in the family section but not as a love interest. every time either of them express their love for mika they also reaffirm that they love each other in explicitly the same way, it's really not ambiguous

gaelio/mcgillis

What made you ship it? well the vibes were there from the start, even when I was just like "who are these evil bureaucrats" so I always thought they were hooking up. and then we got to the bit where gaelio gets choked out by mika and mcgillis like. strokes his back comfortingly?? and I was like. ah. I see. they are Dating.

What are your favorite things about the ship? I love betrayal <3 I love it when a guy's grand plan involves killing the one person he cares abt and both of them are super normal abt it <3 also I love that gaelio isn't dead and wants revenge and also that ein is involved bc I love mess <3 (edit: I wrote before we finished the show and looking back on this. oof. rip to past me for trying to maintain some sense of detachment and just having fun at the tragic mess. current me is genuinely sad like. I do love the betrayal and that's def in the top 5 things I like abt this ship but the top spot might have to go to that final confrontation they have and specifically the bit where gaelio won't let mcgillis say that he loves him because otherwise gaelio will forgive him because he is still So in love with him and would have done anything for him if mcgillis wasn't um. specifically designed to be a foil for characters whose whole thing is solidarity and reaching out to others, so the point of his character is that he was marginalized and abused in ways that specifically isolated him so that he can't bring himself to trust anyone else and that's his downfall. communism could have saved him and also his relationship with gaelio (somehow. despite gaelio being fundamentally a spoiled rich kid. it's fine they would've worked it out. anyway)

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship? who could say what the unpopular opinions are. maybe that gaelio is also definitely dating ein but then again this is a show with canon polyamory so maybe the fandom is also more chill abt that

and for uh. equality I guess. one I don't ship. merribit/orga

Why don’t you ship it? not compelled by the dynamic where most of a woman's screentime is her trying to tell a man that he's doing everything wrong and needs to be more careful. they both deserve better than that and I'm glad the show stopped hinting at the possibility of them getting together

What would have made you like it? see above. what if orga could ever give a speech to try to raise morale so that everyone didn't die without merribit interrupting to tell him how fucked up it is that these kids are fighting. I assure you he knows that it's fucked up, it's his life, he's also a child soldier, does he literally ever look like he's happy abt going into battle. what if actually their relationship were abt her teaching him the value of spreadsheets. that would be romantic to me

Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it? if I were still a straight girl I would have been obsessed with them in a very projecting way. I would be conceptually So into guy character I love x admin woman

extra bonus now that we're so extremely tieriapilled: lockon/tieria

What made you ship it? the bit where lockon puts his hand on tieria's shoulder and tieria Immediately calms down and smiles at him softly and everyone else on the bridge is like. what the fuck happened while you two were down on earth together. and then every single other time they interact after that

What are your favorite things about the ship? lockon constantly reaffirming tieria's personhood. the "you let that man too deep into your heart" line. the incredible potential of the mirrored character arcs they could've had if lockon hadn't fucking died, because god forbid a gundam show from the 2000s allow a disabled main character to actually live their life as a disabled person, where tieria is learning how to be a person and exploring what she wants her gender to be and coming to terms with no longer being able to do the thing that made her special/effective/valuable and also feeling guilty bc she thinks she cost lockon his eye and that saving her wasn't worth it, and lockon is figuring out how to live his life now that he's gotten his revenge and also coming to terms with no longer being able to do the thing that made him special/effective/valuable, and both of them learning that their worth isn't just in being a good gundam pilot in the specific way that they had previous been good gundam pilots

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship? you already know my ten thousand word essay on the various ways tieria is (mis)treated and (mis)characterized but. y'know. fandom stop being shitty abt transfem-coded characters challenge

[ladyroza-18]

ARCANE S2, RENATA GLASC PREDICTION

(I am going to be honest this theory is mostly because i want to see my lady Renata in Arcane, she joined my absolute favourite Legue of legends characters that i am kinda obsessed with and can watch a entire series about so yeah full fan girl mode over here 😅)

So i had a idea on how Renata can fit into arcane and I mean why wouldn't she? She has a perfect lore , perfect design, a personality begging to be on screen, so .... a lot of people brought up the prediction that now with silco dead and savika probably stepping up to take he's place but not being able to fill the gap he left alot are speculating that savika might give up the position so what if she gives it to someone else maybe an old friend ? THAT'S RIGHT what if Renata was part of the old uprising that silco and vander led ?, Now my personal headcanon is that after Renata's parents were murdered she was very lost and had no idea what to do next she was a young woman who her family was suddenly taken from her along with her arm and she probably spent the first few days after that just searching for whatever to do next so with all that is left for her is her parents research and her name she wouldn't be thinking straight she would just be looking for a way to get revenge on piltover so she'd join the first people who are presenting the idea of a reblieon HECK maybe even Vander brought her out of the fire of her home i mean someone had to pull her out of there especially since she would definitely be mentally, physically, emotionally destroyed and young Vander and silco could use the fact that the undercity/zauns kindest doctors were unjustly murdered by enforcers as another factor to lead a revolution and as such Renata worked with young Vander,silco, savika in the beginning and maybe silco saw some of her parents research as a inspiration for shimmer since people want to tie Renata's chem tech to shimmer, however I think Renata after some time left the revelation because she didn't agree with silco and Vander plans and decided to run her own plan for revenge and progress the way i see it each have/ had their methods and philosophy on how to beat piltover

Vander 's was: use violence. until he adopted the kids

silco 's is : make them fear us so that they have to give us what We want

While Renata 's philosophy is : if you can't beat them join them until they trust you and you can plant a bomb in their house without them expecting it

And this disagreement with ideas is what led Renata to leave the rebellion years before it started and definitely years before the bridge riot in the beginning of the show so that she can start glasc industries and start out her own plan of revenge. And now with someone needing to pick up where silco left off what better way it is to earn piltover 's trust then to turn a once violent Empire built on chemical drags into a Lifestyle brand and a community service centres that also make products for the rich , that would be a opportunity presented on a silver platter for Renata and would still line up with her Lore if savika can't handle the power vaccum silco left and she would need someone else to be loyal to Renata would be the perfect fit for this since her methods of improving zaun does help it's people better and it will tie Vander/Warwick to another champion cool right?,

but hey that's just my thoughts and PREDICTION Bec i want to see Renata in the series so badly but I am not sure if she will or not so one can only dream and Fantasies

( P.s don't bring up the theory that savika and Renata are the same person THEY ARE NOT. The only thing they have in commen is having a prosthetic arm and they each lost their arms in different ways and their personalityies are different not to mention it will be considered a skin colour washing and we don't want that here )

[redrikki]

Marvel Cinematic Universe Masterpost

Agent Carter

Magic Boxes - Howard builds magic boxes and out of them come weapons. (Howard Stark)

Cheer Up, Get Out of Bed - Jack had opened up to Peggy Carter and all he got was this lousy concussion. Tag to 1.06 (Jack Thompson, Daniel Sousa)

Take Good Care of Yourself - Post Season 2 finale, three people who visited Jack Thompson in the hospital and one who never made it. (Jack Thompson, Peggy Carter, Daniel Sousa, Rose Roberts, Dottie Underwood)

That Swell Liberty Gal Carrying A Torch for You -Angie was sure that skinny Steve had been a real swell guy, but there was no way he’d been good enough for her Peggy. A series of conversations makes her change her mind. (Angie Martinelli, Peggy Carter, Howard Stark)

I’d Even Buy the Wedding Rings - Peggy and Jack must go undercover as a married couple. They just might succeed if they don’t kill each other first. (Peggy Carter, Jack Thompson)

Because Girls Love Girls (The Soulmate City Remix) - There’s something in the water and the next thing Angie knows, she’s waking up with the name Margaret Carter wrapped around her wrist. Remix of Because Girls Love Girls and Boys by Netgirl_y2k. (Peggy Carter/Angie Martinelli)

Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree - Three people who thought Peggy Carter and Edwin Jarvis were having an affair and one who knew better (Peggy Carter, Edwin Jarivs, Angie Martinelli, Jack Thompson, Daniel Sousa, Ana Jarvis) A Modest Proposal - The mess with Vernon Masters has left Daniel’s office short staffed, but he has some replacements in mind. (Daniel Sousa, Edwin Jarvis, Peggy Carter, Howard Stark)

One Last Kiss (The Final Storm Remix) - You never forget your first kiss with your nemesis. Dottie won’t forget her last either. At Howard Stark’s funeral, she puts a few things in the ground. (Dottie Underwood/Peggy Carter) Remix of After the Storm by The_Wavesinger.

Odds on Favorite - And to think Peggy might never have known about the office betting pool if Daniel hadn’t asked her to dinner.A workplace comedy set between seasons 1 and 2. (Peggy Carter/Daniel Sousa, Jack Thompson)

All the World’s a Stage - Dottie had cleared out all her belongings except for the dead body under her bed and Angie was starting to wonder if she actually knew anyone as well as she thought she did. She knew she wasn’t the best actress in New York, but she was starting to think she hadn’t even been the best one in the building. (Angie Martinelli, Peggy Carter)

The Only Thing I’ve Plenty Of - The morning after a blistering row with Howard, Peggy opened her door to find Mr. Jarvis with a jewelry box and a hang-dog expression. Gifts have always been Howard’s preferred love language, but sometimes Peggy just wishes he’d learn to apologize like a normal person. (Peggy Carter, Edwin Jarvis)

Catch Me A Catch - Four times Jack failed as a matchmaker and one time he pulled it off. (Jack Thompson, Peggy Carter/Daniel Sousa)

Ms. Marvel

Three Times Kamala Thought About Revealing Her Secret Identity and One Times She Didn't - Three times Kamala Khan thought about revealing her secret identity and one time she knew better. (Kamala Khan, Khan family, Sheik Abdullah)

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings

Kathy Takes Her Shot - Turns out their little adventure wasn't just a one-shot. Time for Kathy to step up her game. You can't hit something if you don't take aim. (Kathy Chen/Shang-Chi)

Age of Ultron

A.I. Is A Crapshoot - MCU/Revolution (TV)/The 100 (TV) crossover. “You can remove their pain and fear, create a world without loss or suffering, and there will still be those who fight against you.” Three psychotic A.I.s bitch about humanity. (Ultron, Allie, the Nano)

[i-dont-know-how-this-site-works]

Stealing power and wifi connection from my university to talk online about animated shows, lets's go baby! 

My headcanon is that Wrecker is absolutely a cottagecore girl mixed in with like, 70s west coast rollerblade neon pink girl aesthetic, so I just wanna see Wrecker going fishing, breeding chickens, embroidering and crocheting, pickling and making jam, all while wearing his blades and rolling around the island and only occasionally crafting a small bomb and setting it off on the next uninhabited island lol (I might be projecting a bit onto our favourite big boy)

*dances around and claps my hands* perks of being European, plane tickets cost less than those damn energy bills :P

But seriously, if you have the chance to go to any south-eastern European country, do so! It's beautiful down there (and the food!)!

Oh yeah, I did see the interrogation bot, so I think we will see the empire interrogating Crosshair- or maybe interrogating Cid? Which is why she sounded so off in her transmission?

I haven't played Jedi survivor either, but I am a tiny bit of a history nerd irl (very ancient history, think like humans building first civilizations, agricultural revolution, domesticating animals, or just human evolution in general), so I would kill to see more ancient jedi stuff in canon, I admit I am not very well versed in EU lore because there is so much of it and I don't know where to start :P

I will admit that I wasn't really enjoying episode 5, but maybe that mech monster will come in handy sometime. But I do appreaciate that they took the time to develop Phee more since her character and her burgeoning relationship with Tech is more ✨salient✨ now.

I know, but I love my Jedi order <3 those emotionally constipated space monk wizards do something to my heart that I cannot explain.

I think at this point there are so many plot threads left unfinished with only 3 episodes to tie them together, so I find it unlikely that they would introduce Wolffe now. They know that the audience wants to see Wolffe (and Cody, Gregor and Howzer as well) again, so I think they will eventually throw him into the pot, but not now.  And I don't think we should worry about repetitiveness too much- the s1 finale had Hunter be kidnapped and it's shaping up to be Omega getting the short end of the stick for s2. I just hope we are not going to be ending each season with someone getting kidnapped, just a merry-go-round of kidnappings.

Well, an old geezer with magic powers, a whiny teenager who never stepped foot outside his backyard, an asshole smuggler, a giant 7-foot-tall lump of hair, a robot with an anxiety disorder, an astromech who had more war crimes under his belt than the damn emperor himself and a girl whose entire civilization was destroyed and acted like it was nothing infiltrated THE Death Star, so really, how hard would it be for a team of elite soldiers to infiltrate a mountain base?  They did it in the last season and the plan fell through only because Hunter skipped arm day and fell off the ship lol

I think there would be many access points, just speaking from a logistics perspective. You need a way into the facility, a way for ships to be docked, a way in to provide water, drain sewage, throw out the garbage, power lines, exhaust ports, etc. They also have lower levels as confirmed by Hemlock and I am pretty sure they couldn't have squeezed the Zillo through the front door :P

Oh, I am not doubting that they will set off all alarms, it's the bad batch after all- subtlety was never one of their strong points.

Trying new things is scary, I will give you that. But once you try it a few times and get comfortable with it, and when you discover that VA is exactly what you want to do in life, I am sure you will forget about how hard it was to start :) And I love people who can switch accents effortlessly- I've been learning how to speak with a British accent for 2 years now with actual professionals and I am nowhere near target-like pronunciation, so I am so jealous of people who can do it on a whim! And I am in such awe of DBB- to be able to vary his voice enough for each clone to be distinct, yet remain a steady, unchanged main tone all clones share. It's incredible! I am sure you can do it too ;)

Ohh, so that's how you do it. My attention span is so short that I can effectively focus on one or two things only at a time before I get distracted, so watching shows and being productive simultaneously is outside my capabilities.

Yes, I am imagining the plot going from season 1: tbb immediately jumping back into action after war because they can't imagine doing anything else -> season2: tbb exploring the possibilities of a normal life -> season 3: facing their traumas and dancing between fighting for the rebellion and having a purpose outside the life of a soldier -> season 4: finally striking that life-work balance, if you will.

I don't think that anything like that has been invented in SW, so I think we will be subjected to the survivor clones dying of old age after their 40th birthdays. I actually had an idea for a sad af fic where Ahsoka steps up to take care of elderly Rex and has to reconcile with the fact that the man who was only a couple years older when she met him is now bedridden and frequently experiences memory lapses. Just, Ahsoka having to deal with one of her best friends dying not in combat, being ripped away from her by force, but simply time taking its toll and whisking her friend away.

I would love an SW series focusing on like, a store clerk from Coruscant, who has never been in a fight in his entire life and never met a Jedi, a politician, or anyone famous, and just seeing the changing galaxy through their eyes. How the war, the transition from republic to empire, the civil war, and then de-empirizing the galaxy took its toll on normal citizens.

I think Disney just sort of expected that whatever garbage they release under the “Star Wars” logo, people will just eat up and call it the best thing since sliced bread was invented, so they didn’t really care who they hire for the writing process (or if the writing was good). Or maybe like you are suggesting, they did care, it just didn’t end up being all that great. Although TRoS is reeeeally pushing it, I can’t believe that no one at Disney was like, stop there, this is a horrible idea. 

Either way, that whole mess gave us tbb, soooo…¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But yeah, I think they went with tbb and mando to reverse engineer the sequels, and while it won’t make the sequels good, at least we are getting something awesome out of it.  

As for my writing, uhh, ventures, I have some stuff started in my notes app, but nothing is complete (and I have a horrible problem with actually finishing my stuff, so they probably won’t be finished at all). That said, for tbb alone, I am writing a death fic for Tech, a fic where Omega is injured on Tech’s watch and he has to keep her alive till he finds help, a short fic with Hunter being all self-blamey and a mopey emo dude after discovering injured Cross and Omega getting taken. For more fluffy things, I am writing a 5+1 where Hunter takes care of the team and one time they take care of him. I have other SW stuff too, mostly Obi-Wan and Anakin centered, with Ahsoka and Rex thrown in for good measure, and some crackfics too. 

Do you have an ao3, by the way? Maybe you will grace me with your fics? 👉👈

I don’t know when I am going to reply to your reddit, since it took me 5 hours to reply to Tumblr inbetween classes and stuff and I still have 3 hours of classes left, so it might take a while. Especially considering this is 3 pages long in g.docs with 10.5 arial font, so yeah. 

P.S. Uhhh, I don’t really know? You can call me Asia, I guess? It’s my discord handle :P and no, it’s not the same as the continent, in case you were wondering, @arlothia. 

Tell me what you think because I realised this shit as I was falling asleep and I now I can't go unless I get it out there:

Does the colour scheme of the background sort of look like the colour scheme of the houses and buildings on Pabu?

So, theory: Cid didn't sound...normal? the last time she contacted the guys and it's actually because the empire has gotten hold of her to try to bait the bad batch into coming into contact with her again. Well, that didn't work, so Cid suggests contacting Echo alone and tells him about Cross needing help (she knows the group has split) and that checks the "Cid is going to betray them" checkbox. Echo and Rex fall for it, contact the rest of the batch because they are going to need as much help as they can get in infiltrating Tantiss, and head to Pabu to rendezvous. That's where we get the long awaited Echo and Omega reunion. The group head to Tantiss, get Crosshair out, but in the process Omega is captured. They are forced to leave her to save injured/drugged/traumatised/comatose Cross and themselves. We open season 3 on Omega being experimented on or being mistreated to get Nala Se to cooperate.

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Title: The Invisible Committee

Author: Clara Fiddis

Rating: 5/5 stars

An excellent account of a bizarre social movement, written by one of the people actually involved with it.

I don't know anything about the movement, but I do know that, when it comes to politics, what seems true to me tends to be a minority opinion. As a result, the standard narrative about politics consists of the main players being the "good guys" fighting against "the other side", which is to say, the kind of narrative that makes you want to cheer for the underdog and is therefore emotionally satisfying.

This is a book that shows this narrative -- "there is something wrong with people like us, and if we could get them to see our vision, we could fix them" -- for what it is, and then takes the next step of making it so that you can't just ignore these people any more. Because the social forces behind the movement, whatever they are, are bigger than a handful of bad actors, or even a sizeable minority of bad actors, and that's what we're dealing with here.

The Invisible Committee is about a "commune" on the island of Châteauneuf-sur-le-Lac, one of the communes involved in the "movement of the unemployed". This movement was founded by a French philosopher named Guy Debord, and they are famous for having declared that all of society was "spectral," meaning that all things are mere images that are at war with each other. Spectralism means that any human activity or goal is just one more side in a gigantic war with all the other sides. Debord's goal was to give this war its own symbolic language, and he chose a flag: the "Invisibles of the Spectral War." He and his disciples wore this symbol as a way of displaying their shared principles: they wanted to make the "spectral war" real, to make it possible for everyone to participate in it, to be the kind of people who'd make it real.

Debord's followers are called "the Invisible Committee," and they call themselves "comrades," not because they're all brothers or something, but because there's no such thing as privacy in this world: to exist is to be seen.

The book is written by the person who got involved with the actual Invisible Commune, Clara Fiddis. Fiddis is a fairly obscure French writer; I'd never heard of her, but that's not because she's not a significant figure in French politics. In 2000, when she was 26, she published Guys, one of the best novels of the 21st century. A young French girl leaves her home to join her favorite band in its tour van, and then she loses that band when it breaks down. Afterward she wanders in search of a new, more perfect band. She finds it, but as it grows, it turns on her, first by killing off her character, and then by taking on its own form, growing so big and strong that it makes all other life forms in its path vanish.

After the story ends, she takes the place of the girl who disappeared, as one of the other band members. She begins a kind of slow, quiet, inward revolution, with the goal of achieving a kind of purity that will transcend the band and its drama. In the end, she achieves this "purity," but she has destroyed all that was valuable to her in the process; the "band" as she knew it was broken down, but she no longer knows who or what she was supposed to have been. She becomes a kind of "holy fool" in the band's van, as she travels from one gig to the next in what must now be the last chapter of her life.

One of the major themes of the novel is the distinction between truth and authenticity. When she starts out as a member of the band, she says that she is a girl who's "seen everything already": her name is Clara, and she's young, and she believes she knows everything about this life. As her involvement with the band grows, she comes to see how many of these things are myths, how few of them -- in fact -- are real, and how little of what she does as a band member is really "her." She thinks about her friend and ex-bandmate who died on tour, and whether that person "was really someone [she] was friends with," and she realizes that she really didn't know the person all that well, and she didn't know anything.

She comes to realize that the "band," for all its drama, was still a myth, a "spectral" life that she had imagined for herself. At the end of the book, when she's driving, she sees what she calls the "spectral city": in her mind, a place of light and shade. In reality, it's just her old town, but she's left it behind -- or, rather, it's left her.

Fiddis' narrator talks about this idea of truth and authenticity a lot, but she doesn't seem to know quite how to talk about it. She talks about a kind of "inwardness," a desire to make your existence "wholly [your] own," and she talks about how "to exist is to be seen, to be seen and to be touched is to be felt and to be felt is to live. The only freedom is to not be afraid and to live as if I already know who I am and what I must do." A world where everyone is "living as if [they] already know[ ] who [they] are" is very different from the world we live in.

Debord was an important political figure, famous among a particular sort of left-winger for his writings in support of the urban guerrilla street fighter and the militant anti-government activist -- the kinds of people we imagine when we picture our modern anarchists, or the more extreme sorts of Maoists. Debord's own politics were not very lefty, though, and to his credit he seemed to realize that his movement was not "radical," in the usual sense of the word. It wasn't a social movement, not really, just an idea that had to be spread by other people. "Revolution" means something different in French than it does in English; the word is closer to "change" than "revolution," and it connotes more the idea of a "project" than a "cause." In the end, the Invisible Committee wasn't the kind of thing that could be a cause, it was the kind of thing that could, perhaps, be

[yelenasdog]

rebel girl (vic de angelis x fem!singer!reader)

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 REBEL GIRL  𝐁𝐘 BIKINI KILL

(listen while reading for best experience) 

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff with a sprinkle of angst for .0000002 seconds

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a kiss during a shared performance turns into something more.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.3k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, kissing, drinking, my attempts at writing roman dialect and italian, and i believe that’s it.

𝐚/𝐧: ok so i know not a whole lot abt måneskin so if anything abt this in terms of the band or how they perform is inaccurate forgive me! but i think vic is hot and this song makes me think of her LOL. thanks for reading, and enjoy the fic!! <3

(all translations will be linked at the end of the fic)

♀~♀~♀

The cheers of the crowd were deafening, but it seemed the beating of her own heart was even louder. Lights flashed a plethora of neon colors, and those on the stage looked liked silhouettes moving about freely.

Ethan nodded at Thomas, quickly bringing down his stick to the tightly spread plastic.

Thomas bobbed his head, starting to play the opening riff.

Select members of those in attendance began to cheer, just the opening notes being enough to give away what was about to be performed.

“For our last song tonight, we’d like to bring out someone you all know and love.” Damiano spoke into his mic, wrapping an arm around Vic’s neck and allowing her to lean down into the microphone in his hand.

“She’s someone that everyone, including myself, heavily admire as an icon of the generation and a true Riot Grrrl.”


Her eyes closed, a deep breath inhaled and exhaled through her painted mouth. She jumped up and down in her heeled boots, face pointed towards the rickety ceiling of the venue as she did so. She ran a ring adorned hand over her earpieces and made a funny face, making sure they were adjusted to her liking.

A stagehand appeared to her right, handing her a microphone and wishing her good luck. She smiled, responding with a quick “thanks” and a smile.

Victoria looked over from her place on the stage with Damiano, a devilish glint in her eye.

“Here for one night only, London let us introduce” he yelled, leaning down to Vic’s level once more, allowing them to both speak at once, “Y/n Y/l/n!”

A roar erupted from everyone in the building as the aforementioned strutted on stage, lifting the mic to her lips.

“That girl thinks she’s the queen of the neighborhood, she’s got the hottest trike in town.” She started, finding her mark in the center of the stage.

“That girl, she holds her head up so high, I think I wanna be her best friend yeah.” Damiano’s raspy voice let out next, both of their voices mixing together like honey as they started the chorus.

“Rebel girl, rebel girl, rebel girl you are the queen of my world.

Rebel girl, rebel girl.”

“I think I wanna take you home” Y/n began, Damiano then taking over.

“I wanna try all your clothes.” He finished, both him and Y/n groaning in unison to the song.

Vic would be lying if she said she didn’t have to clear both her throat, and her mind. Thomas’ fingers worked skillfully and quickly on the neck of his guitar on the small transitional solo, his focus staying on the cool steel.

Damiano held up his tattooed hand, making a talking motion as he sang and rolled his eyes, “When she talks, I hear the revolution.”

Y/n came up behind Vic, one hand running across her hip, the other on her own as she chose to lean into Vic’s mic over her shoulder, “In her hips, there’s revolutions.”

The lead singer then strutted across the stage back to Ethan, propping a leg up on the base of his kit, and then walking back singing, “When she walks, the revolution’s coming.”

Knowing what line was coming up next, the bassist held her breath, and looked down. It was short lived, though, as Y/n picked up her chin with her pointer finger, forcing her to look her in the eyes. She moved his slowly to Victoria, their lips nearly brushing, her touch feather light.

“In…her…kiss…” she slowly sang, dragging it out longer than in the original song and than in rehearsal. She quickly turned her head, falling to her knees with one side to Vic and one to the audience, her hair cascading over her features.

“I taste the revolution!”

She smiled at Vic as she pushed herself up, a goofy grin plastered onto her face as she allowed Damiano to take the chorus. Victoria replied with only a small smirk, her dark eyeshadow glittering under the colorful lights, making her look like some kind of gothic angel, or celestial being.

Resuming singing, Y/n walked back to the front of the stage, her and Damiano switching every verse. She sat down on the edge, letting her legs dangle over the high surface, feeling fingertips barely touch her unclothed thigh.

“That girl thinks she’s the queen of the neighborhood.”

“I got news for you,”

They both pointed their mics into the audience as the screen behind them flashed “she is!” Allowing the crowd, as well as Thomas, Vic, and Ethan to all scream the two words loudly and in sync.

“I know she is,” her and Dami both sang, as he wrapped an arm around Vic’s neck,

“My best friend yeah”

The chorus continued for a final time, Victoria stomping her heavy platforms on the wooden stage, biting her lip as she performed.

Y/n made her way over to Thomas’ side, jumping to his left and swaying her hair, a knowing smile appearing on his face upon seeing Victoria’s gaze falling upon her movements.

Victoria made rounds to Ethan and then to Thomas, passing Y/n and lightly tapping her hip with her own.

Y/n skipped over to Damiano as he did to her, the pair meeting in the middle briefly for the “love you like a sister, always.”

Victoria returned to her spot from the start, and Damiano found his way to Thomas. Y/n continued on towards the ethereal bassist. The both of them were simultaneously singing to the aforementioned in harmony, nearing the end of the song.

“Soul sister, rebel girl,

Come and be my best friend,

Really, rebel girl.”

Y/n dragged a hand across Vic’s chiseled cheekbone, and in that moment Victoria had taken on the title of a muse for the woman standing in front of her.

“I really like you” she sang to her, lowering her mic as they looked into each other’s eyes, her chest heaving. It was like the music had been reduced down to a slight buzzing, and the thousands of peering eyes meant nothing. They were untouchable.

Y/n resumed for the last line, never breaking her eye contact.

“Be my rebel girl.”

It seemed like a question, a proposal of sorts from one to another, as Y/n’s hand dropped once more.

Victoria quirked a brow as if to ask “are we really doing this?” To which Y/n muttered “fuck it” with a laugh.

Victoria’s hands found either side of Y/n’s face, her calloused fingers rough, yet gentle. Y/n’s own hands found one lazily draped over waist, the other over her shoulder to pull her close.

And in what probably the entirety of the building could have guessed would happen (maybe just not on stage, in that exact moment) they closed the gap between themselves, their lips connecting in a sweet kiss.

Chants and yells of encouragement were whooped by the band and crowd alike, as Damiano raised the mic and the final notes played.

“Y/n Y/l/n everybody!”

They pulled apart, sweaty foreheads against each other’s sides as they turned towards everyone, waving. They were quickly joined by the rest of the group, and Y/n stepped away, leaning into the microphone still hooked on the stand in the center of the stage.

“Let’s hear a huge round of applause for the wonderfully mad Måneskin!” She shouted, the roar of the crowd even louder. She raised her hands in the air, then moving one to her ear, gesturing for them to be louder. They complied, and Y/n took out her earpiece for a moment, soaking in what the band had created.

Vic shouted to Y/n over the noise, waving her over.

“Come on, bow with us!”

Y/n shook her head, not wanting to intrude any further to which Thomas reached out an arm, pulling her over. A bright smile covered her face as Vic reached out, wrapping an arm around her waist only for a second.

Hands joined, they all leaned forward in a dramatic bow, coming back up and waving.

All in sync, they all yelled “thank you, London!”

They looked around for a small period of time afterwards, still having a hard time believing that this was their new reality.

Looking to her right, and seeing Y/n doing the same, Vic decided that Y/n was a specific part of said “new reality” she didn’t quite want to let go of.

So after saying one more goodbye and exiting the stage, the bassist remained silent. It slightly worried Y/n, who had noticed the girl’s lack of communication while she had been thanking the rest of the band members for allowing her to share the stage with them.

“Is Victoria alright?” She asked Damiano, to which he only chuckled before replying.

“She’s fine, trust me. Give her a little bit of time and she will be back to normal.”

Y/n just gave him a tight lipped smile, not completely convinced.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed as Victoria slipped into her dressing room, locking the door.

The rest of the group, already having had a few drinks, was out the door, waiting on a cab.

“Y/n? You and Vic coming?” Ethan questioned.

She nodded, though she was unsure if that was the case, doing her best to cast a reassuring smile in his direction.

Once she made sure they were gone, she knocked twice on the heavy door. Before she could even announce it was her, Vic’s voice rang out.

“Vattene, Damiano!”

“Victoria?” Y/n’s tone floated through the door to the other side, and Victoria face palmed and silently cursed herself. She quickly got up and unlocked the door, regretting her harsh tone.

“Y/n, hi.”

“Hi.” She responded, slight uneasiness about her. Victoria picked up on this immediately, her brows furrowing and her eyes softening.

“Are you alright, Y/n?”

The other girl scoffed and looked at her feet. Scared to break any boundaries now that they weren’t on stage, Victoria cautiously lifted a hand towards her chin, softly picking it up like Y/n had before.

Her voice sounded wavy as she spoke, her jaw slightly hanging slack.

“Actually, I came here to ask the same thing.”

Victoria tilted her head like a confused puppy, leaning up against the doorframe.

“Why? What happened?”

Struggling to find the right thing to say, Y/n began to trip over her words.

“Well, I just, you know, on stage and everything- we were super, y’a know, close and everything and I didn’t wanna, I don’t know. Make you uncomfortable or overstep any boundaries or anything, and if it was just a kiss I didn’t wanna overthink it or read into but, I mean, I really liked it but you seemed to go quiet so-“

Victoria cut off her painful rambling with another kiss, taking firm hold of her arms and moving her inside with her and closing the door with her foot.

“Wow.” Y/n said when they finally pulled apart, her eyes as wide as dinner plates and her pupils the size of the moon.

“Yes, wow.” Vic chuckled, moving a piece of Y/n’s stray hair behind her ear.

“You’re very different when you’re on stage, Y/n. You know that?” She asked, admiring how the fluorescent lights above illuminated Y/n’s features in the most wonderful way.

Victoria had decided she liked her most like this. Vulnerable, sweaty, and with the biggest heart eyes she’d ever seen.

“That’s what I was afraid of.” She laughed.

“No.” Vic frowned, taking her hands. “It’s not a bad thing. Not at all.” She brought her over to the velvet sofa in the corner of the room. “It’s admirable.”

“How?” She asked with a small smile.

“Easy. Because even though your stage persona is lovely,” she laughed, “I think I like this Y/n even better. She seems like she’s kind, and has a big heart with lots of love to give.”

Stunned, the other girl just smiled like an idiot, leaning forward and pecking Vic’s lips.

“Well, what about you?”

“What about me?” The bassist replied, enjoying the banter forming between the pair.

“Why’d you go all radio silent? I’d never heard of Victoria De Angelis from EuroVision winning band Måneskin to do such a thing.” She exclaimed in what was the worst accent Victoria had heard in her life.

(Though, it was endearing, she’d admit.)

“Truly? I was thinking about how to ask you out. If you even wanted me to ask you out, all of that.”

Y/n’s eyes somehow got even bigger, and she laughed, tucking her legs beneath her.

“How is that even a question?” She exclaimed.

“Like I said, you are different on stage from off it. I didn’t know if it was just a front, a performance.”

This time it was Y/n’s turn to roll her eyes and lean in, encapsulating Victoria’s lips with her own.

“It wasn’t just a show, I’d love to go out with you, Vic.”

They both giggled like school girls hidden under the bleachers, leaning in for another kiss. It was hot and heavy, yet slow and sweet. It was everything either girl had hoped for. 

And thanks to a certain Italian doofus, or 4, it would be momentarily put on pause. Mid-make out four loud knocks startled the girls, causing the two do them to pull away.

“Victoria! Daje! Perché non rispondi al telefono, eh? Stiamo aspettando- oh. This makes sense.“ Damiano burst through the door, Ethan and Thomas stood behind him with not-so-surprised looks painted on their faces.

“Realmente? Realmente, Damiano?” She scoffed. “Stai manzo!”

“Sorry, guys. Enjoy yourselves.” He turned over his shoulder to the rest, slowly shutting the door.

“Sicuro di dire che non verranno con noi.” He snickered, as did the others.

“Eccallà!” Ethan remarked, to which, not that Vic and Y/n knew, Thomas shoved him to the side.

Victoria sighed, returning to face Y/n.

“So. Where were we?”

♀~♀~♀

i hope yall liked that!! mwah make sure to reblog if u did <333 take care of urself!

translations 

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

De Amore

My fic for @aceomenszine is finally available on AO3!

Aziraphale has come to Paris to find the answer to an important question: What's it like to be in love? Crowley's not sure why he wants to know, but he's willing to discuss it to make his angel happy. Full text below!

--

“What’s it like to be in love?”

Crowley stumbled to a stop on the Paris street, glaring at the angel beside him. Aziraphale stared straight ahead, walking with his usual expression: calm, poised, slightly arrogant. As if he were talking about the weather.

“Dunno. S’a human thing, isn’t it?” He scowled at a few gawking peasants, hurrying to catch up. “Romance. Lust. Sex. Nothing to do with us.”

“You could say the same of hunger, or exhaustion, or boredom.”

“Yeah, and I’d be right.” Crowley held out an arm to stop Aziraphale from walking directly into a produce cart. “Neither of us gets exhausted. You’re never tired, and I just like a good nap sometimes.”

“Really?” A flicker of that mocking bastard smirk. “How many nights did you sleep this past week?”

“Nrrg. Five or six, but that’s not the point.” They started walking again, Crowley tossing an apple he’d snuck from the cart. “I could stop if I wanted to — I’d miss it, but s’not the same as being tired. Same with you and eating.”

“But if I desire a food, so strongly I can already taste it, surely that’s…if not exactly hunger, a close approximation?”

“Don’t think so.” Crowley offered the apple, but Aziraphale shook his head. “Spend a couple days in the city, you’ll see what hunger looks like. S’not about pleasure or wanting a particular food. It’s need, desperation. And we just don’t experience that.” He tossed the apple towards a group of children, and a girl in a ragged dress caught it. “Boredom I’ll grant you. I’ve definitely been bored.”

“So, we might enjoy things as humans do, but never desire them the same way,” Aziraphale mused, smoothing his hands down the front of his stolen jacket. “But is love the longing for a connection with another, or the pleasure of that connection?”

“Doesn’t really make a difference to us, does it?”

He waited for Aziraphale to respond, but the angel simply continued walking, hands folded behind his back, eyes more distant than usual.

“So?” Crowley prodded after nearly a block in silence. “What brought this on?” Aziraphale shrugged. “Let me guess. Reading novels again? Sappy poetry? Getting…ideas?” He stepped ahead of Aziraphale and walked backwards, to ensure the angel saw his suggestive eyebrow wiggle. No response. Crowley shrugged, falling back into step. “Look, f’you want to try falling in love with a human, s’your business. Let me know how it goes. Just do it back in London, I don’t need that…drama getting back to my bosses.”

“That’s not it,” Aziraphale snapped, wringing his hands. “It’s not — it doesn’t even work that way, Crowley. Humans don’t just decide to fall in love!”

“They don’t cross an ocean and charge through a revolution for a snack, either.”

“Oh, never mind. Clearly you’re the expert here.” Aziraphale froze, glaring at a shop just ahead, and threw his hands up in disgust. “And now they’ve closed my favorite creperie! Why do I even bother? Might as well return to England and feast upon whatever lumpy brown bread the first tavern I pass serves.”

“Stop being dramatic,” Crowley hissed, turning down a side street and gesturing for Aziraphale to follow. “If you get locked up again, I’m not rescuing you a second time.” The angel’s lips twisted sourly. “Look, gourmet crepes aren’t really in demand right now, but I know a place. Might still be open.”

“I suppose that will have to do.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and glared at the sky, thin grey clouds veiling the sun. He should probably just let Aziraphale stew in his own sullen displeasure. Might even give him an advantage — a distracted angel was easier to outsmart.

But Crowley hadn’t been in the business of thwarting Aziraphale for over a thousand years. Why oppose each other, when they could work…not together, but in tandem? Ensuring all their duties were fulfilled, their paperwork properly filed.

It was better this way. Less fuss all around, less inconvenience. Pleasanter conversation. More time for trips to the theater or quiet meals, either of which was a far better way to spend an evening than any sort of elaborate espionage.

He’d been looking forward to griping about his job over a mug of cider while Aziraphale worked his way through a plate of crepes, smiling and wiggling in his seat. Watching Aziraphale get excited over something was, in Crowley’s opinion, one of the best ways to pass the time.

Only the conversation had left Aziraphale annoyed, pouting and…Crowley studied him carefully, dark glasses imperfectly hiding his eyes. More than anything, Aziraphale looked hurt. A sight that always made Crowley’s stomach twist painfully.

He sighed, tossing back his head. “‘Love is an inborn suffering, proceeding from the sight and immoderate thought upon the beauty of another, for which cause above all other things one wishes to embrace the other and, by common assent, in this embrace to fulfil the commandments of love.’”[1]

“I beg your pardon?”

“Look, I don’t know. You asked me—!” Crowley walked faster, face growing hot. “It’s from some old treatise, right? Love, he says, is seeing someone beautiful and wanting sex. Then, when you have your fill…” he waved his hand vaguely.

“I see.” Aziraphale adjusted his sleeves. “I suppose that…makes sense.” But he still looked grim.

Up ahead, not quite along their path, stood one of Paris’s parks, gates now open to the public. Apart from some rubbish cluttering the entrance, it seemed well-maintained. Crowley tipped his head, inviting.

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up and he nodded, the first hint of a smile on his face. It always made Crowley feel light, that smile, however briefly it appeared.

They wandered in silence up the path, lined by trees here, flowerbeds there. Leaves had turned yellow and the grass was edged with brown, but the roses were still in bloom. Crowley paused to pluck a particularly well-formed bud.

As they crossed a bridge over a small watercourse, Aziraphale suddenly said, “Do you think it’s true, though? That — that treatise? Because it rather sounds like he didn’t see any difference between lust and love.”

“Mmh.” Crowley paused, gazing downstream, where a group of ducks swam contentedly. “As a demon? Yeah. Fits the party line. Humans don’t think of anything but their own pleasure, always wanting what they don’t have. Jealous, possessive, until something better comes along. Then it starts all over. If love and lust aren’t the same, well, they’re pretty close, right?”

“I see.” Aziraphale stepped beside him, holding out his red cap, now filled with grains of barley and cracked corn. They each took a handful and tossed it down. The ducks swam over eagerly, bobbing to catch the seeds before they drifted away.

“But as a being who’s been in the world nearly six thousand years?” Crowley threw another handful, then leaned against the railing, crossing his arms. “Not so sure. Humans do too much that can’t be explained by simple pleasure. Besides, I’ve seen what they do when overwhelmed by lust, and what they do when overwhelmed by love and…dunno. S’not the same.”

More handfuls of grains as a second group of ducks approached.

“What d’you think, Angel?” Crowley prodded. “Must be something in all those books you read.”

“Oh, quite a lot,” Aziraphale assured him. “Much of it contradictory. Many poets will only talk about their beloved’s face, or eyes, but if it were simply a matter of beauty, surely everyone would fall in love with the same beauties.”

“Sometimes they do.” Crowley rolled some seeds between his palms. “S’where the jealousy comes in. But yeah. Gotta be more to it than that.”

“I hope you’re not planning to make those poor ducks sink.”

“What? Nk — no. Course not.” He threw the grains down and the ducks quickly swarmed, turning bright shades of pink and blue and violet as they ate.

“Crowley.”

“Oh, it’s not hurting anyone.” He glanced sideways to see Aziraphale pressing his lips together, struggling not to smile. Grinning, Crowley tossed down more enchanted grains. “Go on then.”

“Hmm? Ah, yes. Well, the overall impression is that love is…transformative. Changes the way one thinks and feels at all times. They speak of, oh, the sun shining brighter, foods tasting sweeter, winter blossoming into summer. Metaphors. Others speak of — of attraction, quickened pulse, sudden heat and so on, but that’s a passing thing, part of a — a particular moment of closeness. Surely, no human could maintain such a state for an hour, never mind weeks or years!” Aziraphale offered Crowley the last handful of grain in his cap. “And once that moment passes…”

“Back to the metaphors.” The ducks below were now spotted, striped, every color of the rainbow. One bore pure white wings, beside another with midnight black. Aziraphale chuckled, very softly, which made Crowley feel immensely satisfied. Dusting off his hands, he circled the angel and continued walking.

“Yes,” Aziraphale hurried to catch up, cap twisting in his hands. “I get the sense that the feeling is so obvious, so…universal, they never think to describe it.”

“How inconsiderate.” Crowley thought it over. “So, flash of heat, racing heart, sun gets brighter, then ten pages about the color of their eyes? That about it?”

“I suppose so.” Aziraphale rubbed a finger across his lip. “Not always beauty, though. Some appear drawn by their partner’s clever mind, or acts of kindness. Some praise stories of bravery or great deeds, others fixate on meaningless symbols of wealth. But still, those only tell why one falls in love, not what it feels like.”

“Sounds like a sort of obsession.” Crowley furrowed his brow. “That treatise had a list of…sort of rules of love. Mostly about jealousy, really, don’t think the author thought much of women, but… ‘Every action of a lover ends in the thought of his beloved.’”

“I see…so that, together or apart, one cannot help but think always of the other. That certainly aligns with the evidence.” He started to replace his cap, then paused, looking inside. “Anything else of use?”

“‘Love can deny nothing to love.’” Beside him, Aziraphale turned pink and a brilliant smile broke across his face, like the sun after a storm. He pulled from the cap the bright red rosebud Crowley had hidden within.

Crowley watched as Aziraphale slid the flower into his buttonhole, drinking in the way the delighted shiver ran across his shoulders. Then the angel looked up, hitting Crowley with the full force of his smile.

Stunning. Blinding. It stole Crowley’s breath away, wiped every thought from his mind.

One day, that smile would destroy him, and he wouldn’t mind at all.

“So, this creperie — are we close?”

“Ngh. Smh. Unh. Nearly. Another block or two.” The park’s gate stood just ahead, half shut, the bustling street beyond. Crowley quickly stepped ahead, pulling it open for Aziraphale. “You, ah, find the answer you needed?”

“I…think so, yes.” He rested his fingers on the gate — so close to Crowley’s he could feel their warmth — then quickly pulled away, folding his hands behind his back. “I’ve been trying to work out…well…whether I’m in love with you, Crowley.”

“Oh.” What was he supposed to say to that? “Oh.”

“Indeed.” Aziraphale’s eyes darted nervously and he began to pace. “I-I want you to know, I don’t desire you. I’ve never felt that sort of attraction. And I’m not jealous by any means. I’m not even certain who I’m meant to be jealous of. But…” He turned back, tugging his jacket. “I think of you. Constantly. Every action, every experience reminds me of you. I go to a concert, and I can’t concentrate on the music, only whether you would enjoy it. I hear a joke and I imagine how you would laugh, or roll your eyes, and I can’t know a moment’s peace until I’ve shared it with you. And last month…when I was reprimanded…for days afterward I could think of nothing but how I wished you were there. When I finally found the strength to venture out, it was only from my determination to come here.”

“For…crepes?” Crowley offered stupidly.

“No, you silly creature, for you.” He stepped forward, reaching up as if to straighten Crowley’s lapels, but once again his hands dropped. “I hear your voice and no matter how dark my situation — no matter how absurd you look in the current fashion — I just…feel happy again.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath and lifted his eyes — hopeful, fearful, vulnerable — to meet Crowley’s.

“Oh.” Something more was probably needed. “Yeah.”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say.

“Well.” Aziraphale’s eyes dropped and he turned, trying to hide his expression. “Yes. I thought you should know.” He ducked his head and hurried through the gate. “Where — where is this creperie? We should try to arrive—”

“Me too.”

Crowley hadn’t meant to say anything. His mind was still ten minutes behind, struggling to catch up, but the pain on Aziraphale’s face hurt him like a blow to the chest.

The two words stopped Aziraphale in his tracks.

“I…I think about you, too.” Crowley stepped halfway through the gate, gripping the bar so tight it began to bend. “When I wake up, or fall asleep and…and away from you, here, I just…I miss you…but you — you idiot, with your crepes and your — your execution and…and then you smile and I just…” Blast! How could Aziraphale be so eloquent? Crowley swallowed and started over. “Look, m’trying to say…don’t think I can deny you anything. And. If that’s love…yeah. Me too.”

All this time, Aziraphale stood perfectly still, his back to Crowley. But now he turned, blue eyes furiously blinking. “That’s…ah…thank you. I know y-you hate being thanked but…” Aziraphale took one step closer, then another, until only inches separated them. “Thank you.”

“Nh.” He could so easily reach across that last bit of distance. Crowley didn’t know what that would accomplish, what he’d even do, but he wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything. “Now what?”

“I don’t know.” Aziraphale’s gaze fell. “It…doesn’t change anything, does it? You’re still a demon, and I’m—”

“I don’t care,” Crowley hissed, shocked at the fervor in his own voice. “We don’t need to play by their rules. We could — run off, or—”

“We can’t. Crowley, both our sides would — they’d find us, they’d destroy you.”

“I’m willing to risk it.” He reached for Aziraphale’s hand.

“I’m not.” The angel jerked back, putting more distance between them, eyes wide. “Crowley that’s — that’s not a chance I’m willing to take. I’m sorry, but no.”

“Fine,” Crowley growled, pulling away. “What do you want?”

“I want…” Aziraphale shut his eyes, taking a shuddering breath. “I want a shop in London, where I can surround myself with books and foods and everything I enjoy. I want my superiors to trust me, let me bring good into the world my own way, without sending me all over Creation at a moment’s notice and — and punishing me for a few miracles to make my life easier. I want us to go to plays and gardens and balls together, not for clandestine meetings but because we enjoy them. To be openly in each other’s company, without fear of reprisal. And…I’d like you to visit my shop and bring me flowers or sweets. I’d serve my very best wine and…we’d talk all night about…everything and nothing. And laugh together.” His eyes fluttered open and for the first time Aziraphale looked sure of himself. “I want what we already have. Only I want more of it.”

This time he didn’t move as Crowley reached out. Long fingers carefully adjusted the rosebud, standing it straighter in its buttonhole. “Yeah. I…I’d like that, too.”

“And you don’t want anything…physical?”

Crowley snorted. “M’not a human.” But he wondered if Aziraphale’s cheek was as soft as the rosebud’s petals. “I’d like to touch you. Your hand, your face. Your wings. Hear your voice as I fall asleep. Feel your fingers in my hair. Is that…too much?”

“No.” Aziraphale smiled gently. “That sounds perfect.”

“Maybe…” Crowley fidgeted with his glasses, shuffled his feet, but refused to step away. “If we’re careful…”

“The Arrangement is already dangerous enough. You must understand…”

Crowley closed his eyes. “I do. Nothing changes.” Except there were words now, to the feeling he had when he thought of his angel. And that changed everything. When he looked again, Aziraphale nodded, as if he felt the same.

“Right then.” Crowley circled around Aziraphale, sauntering back to the main road. “Let’s see if these crepes are worth risking the guillotine.”

“My dear fellow,” Aziraphale easily kept pace. “One bite of true Breton crepes will silence your doubts forever.”

“Breton, huh?”

“Oh, yes, far superior to any others.”

“If that’s so,” Crowley smirked, remembering Aziraphale in his cell, “s’a wonder you came to Paris. Particularly in such a…controversial outfit.”

“The city has…certain other attractions.”

Something warm and heavy wrapped across Crowley’s shoulders, invisible to his eyes, though he could feel the individual feathers tickle his neck. Aziraphale strolled beside him, hands clasped behind his back, eyes forward, as if nothing were amiss.

Carefully, trying to look natural, Crowley scratched his shoulder, brushing his knuckles down a long flight feather, softer than any mortal bird’s.

Aziraphale smiled ever so slightly and flexed his wing, holding Crowley a little more tightly. An embrace that no one could see, no one could know about, except them.

“Dunno,” Crowley said. “Still seems pretty risky.”

“Yes. But I’m an incorrigible old fool. Sometimes I can’t help myself.”

“Suppose I can understand,” Crowley said as he extended his own wing, wrapping it around Aziraphale’s waist. The angel’s composure broke as he wiggled, burying himself in invisible feathers. Crowley smiled, heat running through him, a warm spring day after a long cold winter. “After all, we’re not so different, you and I.”

[1] De Amore, Andreas Capellanus, c. 1190

So happy to finally share this!

[mxbeezkneez]

Graveyard Companions

Chapter 2: i'm coming back from the dead, and i'll take you home with me

Link to ao3: x

Warnings: Blood, Minor Injury, Cursing

Fandoms: The Addams Family

Relationships: Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams, Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams/Reader, Gomez Addams/Reader, Morticia Addams/Reader

Tags: Vampire, Vampire Turning, Human/Vampire Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Married Couple, Blood, Polyamory, Eventual Romance, Eventual Relationship, Pre Relationship, Cursing

Summery: “I’m a vampire… a goddamn vampire,” you whisper.You wake up in the living room of a gothic house, and are told you were found unconscious in a graveyard. They claim you are a vampire. As crazy as it is, you can't help but start to trust the couple who found you.

Chapter notes: hi i'm back! i started thinking about the addams family, and well my interest in vampires didn't rlly diminish much... this chapter's pretty long, so i hope you enjoy! i apologize if my french or spanish is bad, i don't speak french, and i only speak a bit of spanish! i actually have like a whole plot n stuff planned, so i'm pretty hyped for this fic! hope u like it! :) (the title is from it's not a fashion statement, it's a fucking death wish by my chemical romance)

You wake up to a loud bang, bolting straight up out of bed. “What the hell?”

You rub your eyes before slipping out of bed. The night before feels very far away, almost unreal, but being in this room confirms your memories. You’re staying in the Addams’ house and are… a vampire. You take a slow breath before grabbing new clothing. You find a pair of black pants to match a dark sweater. While near the dresser, you look out of the room’s window. It’s dark outside, the sky a navy blue sprinkled with stars. The graveyard behind the house is illuminated by the moon shining over it.

You leave your room, deciding to try and find the living room once again. You wander through the halls before finding it. Inside you find Wednesday, the small girl, playing with a younger blond boy. She’s talking to him while holding a headless doll in her arms. You walk farther into the room, stepping on a squeaky board, alerting the children of your presence.

They both turn their heads to stare at you. You nervously chuckle.

Wednesday points at you, “That’s (y/n),” she tells the boy, “I heard father say they’re a vampire.”

“Wow really?” the boy exclaims, “Is it true? Do you drink blood?”

“Um,” you stammer, “Well, I am a vampire, but I haven’t been one very long so- no I haven’t drank any blood. Uh… what’s your name again?”

“I’m Pugsley,” he reaches over and offers his hand.

You shake it, “Well, nice to meet you Pugsley. What are you guys up to?”

“We’re playing the French Revolution,” Wednesday answers flatly.

You chuckle, “Huh. I mean I guess it was an exciting time. Who’s your doll there?” you point to the headless doll in her hands. To be honest, the beheaded doll was very unnerving, but the children themselves seemed nice enough, so you push your nerves to the side.

“Marie Antoinette” she says matter of factly.

“Oh,” you pause, “Explains the lack of head I guess.”

You stand there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of how to exit the conversation. “Do either of you know where your parents are?” you ask.

“I saw them in the dining room earlier. Uncle Fester was there, but I think he went upstairs to play with his dynomite caps,” Pugsley replies. Uncle Fester? Dynomite caps? There’s too much to unpack there, so instead you decide to find Gomez and Morticia.

“Okay, thanks.”

You head out the door, realizing you have no idea where the dining room is. You go to turn back, but the children are playing animatedly and you don’t want to interrupt, so instead you look for it yourself.

You find the dining room, and sure enough, Gomez and Mortica are seated next to each other at a long table. You walk over and take a seat near them.

“(Y/n)! How’d you sleep?” Gomez greets you.

“Like the dead,” you say flatly. A second later what you’ve said hits you and you blink slowly, “I mean, I slept well, thanks.”

“You did seem rather tired last night,” Morticia remarks, “I’m glad you got some rest.”

“Wait, did I sleep through an entire day?” you ask.

“Yes, though we did tell Lurch not to disturb you,” she answers, “We thought you needed the sleep. How are you feeling?”

“I feel…” you take a moment to survey yourself, “I feel okay. I think if anything I feel a little hungry.”

“We can get that squared away! Mama makes the best yak stew.” Gomez springs from his chair and over to a rope hanging from the ceiling. Remembering last night, you brace for a loud noise. Sure enough, once he pulls it, the house shakes as the ringing travels through the house.

“You rang,” Lurch grumbles.

“Yes Lurch, a bowl of yak stew for our guest!” Lurch groans and exits.

“Thank you,” you tell them, “You’ve both been very hospitable, I’m thankful you were the ones that found me.” You feel sincerity in that statement, you were not only grateful for their help, but another part of you has some feeling when you’re near them. You’re not sure what the feeling is, though you can confidently say you didn’t mind the couple, or hell, the weird household in general. Even if it is kooky, you can’t say you’re not charmed by their life.

Lurch comes back with a silver platter that he sets on the table. On it is a bowl of stew that he places in front of you.

“Thanks,” you say, before grabbing the spoon and looking back at the meal. Lurch takes his leave. You’re unsure about eating yak, but you are also hungry and the stew looks fairly appetizing. You take a scoop and put it in your mouth, surprised not only by the flavor of the soup, but also the feeling of chewing. It’s like you can feel your canines rip through the meat faster than before. In the time where you’ve been thinking, it’s completely slipped your mind that you probably have fangs now. That you’ve changed.

“This is- this is actually really good,” you remark.

“I told you, Mama is a culinary genius! Nothing beats her yak stew!” Gomez gleams.

You smile at Gomez. Something about him just makes you want to smile in a soft admission of admiration.

You turn your attention back to the stew, eating it quickly until there is nothing left.

“I’m glad you enjoyed Mama’s cooking,” Morticia smiles, “I’ll have to tell her you enjoyed it. It’s not very often she gets to feed guests.”

“It is very odd, usually most people never come back after eating her food… I can’t imagine why…” Gomez says with a puzzled expression on his face. You chuckle. You notice that you find yourself enjoying the Addams’ company immensely. A part of you feels sad that you will eventually have to leave.

“Ah, c'est la vie (that’s life) ,” Morticia remarks.

“Tish!” Gomez’s head swivels quickly to face her, “That’s French!” he exclaims, grabbing her arm. He begins to kiss it, from her hand to her shoulder, though is interrupted by Morticia, “Darling. We have company. Later,” she says with a sly grin. Gomez raises his head to meet her eyes, a dazed look on his face. “Later.” he remarks, before finding himself back in his seat, “So, Hester, any plans for the night?” he asks casually.

“Um…” you stutter, flustered by the show of passion from the man sitting across from you, “I- I don’t really know… I mean, I’m a vampire now so- does that mean I have to act like one too? I’ve never been in a situation like this, I don’t really know what to do,” you admit, staring at your hands. You look up towards Morticia, “Didn’t you mention you’ve known vampires before? Could you maybe help me?”

“Of course, darling.” Morticia says, “Why don’t we talk in the living room? If you’re alright with it, the children would enjoy listening, they are curious creatures.”

“Yeah, that’s alright. They asked me a question or two when I ran into them earlier. I don’t blame them for being curious,”

“Pugsley’s been very interested in nonhuman creatures lately, ever since that run in with that werewolf he’s been wanting to know more. Wednesday’s been teaching him some things, she’s always had a firm grasp on certain folklore!” Gomez said proudly.

The three of you walked to the living room and sat down, them on the couch, and you in a chair facing them. The children were still in the room, sitting on the floor. You fidget with your hands nervously. “So, do I have superpowers or anything now?” you half-heartedly joke.

“Vampires have very fast healing capabilities,” Wednesday states, “They are very difficult to kill, they must be stabbed with a stake to the heart or decapitated.”

“Very good Wednesday,” Morticia smiles.

“Huh,” you respond, “Alright, that’s not too bad.”

“There are certain weaknesses that should be mentioned, such as sunlight, garlic, crucifixes and running water.” Morticia adds.

“Wait I can’t eat garlic anymore?” you ask, “That kinda sucks, huh.”

“Well technically you can eat anything if you try hard enough,” Gomez says offhandedly.

Morticia cocks an eyebrow at him and sighs, “It’s not so much deadly, it’s more like a food allergy.”

“So I can still eat things with garlic in it?” you double check.

“As long as you aren’t a coward!” Gomez says enthusiastically.

You let out a laugh at Gomez. Wednesday is rolling her eyes, though Morticia just keeps looking at him lovingly. For a moment you forget about the obvious question hanging in the air.

“So…” you start, “I have to drink blood now?” you ask nervously.

“Yes, all vampires must ingest blood to keep themselves alive,” Morticia says, “You’ve got to be hungry by now I imagine,”

“Yeah… but I just ate.” you reply.

“You can still eat food, it just will never fill you. In order not to starve you have to drink blood.” she explains.

You look down at your shaking hands. Everything before now had felt unreal, but this? The seriousness in her voice is making everything too real for you. How could you possibly do that to someone?

“I- I don’t know if I can do that…” you voice shakes, “I mean- how… how could I?”

“Children,” Morticia addresses them, “Why don’t you go play with Uncle Fester while we talk with Hester.”

“Awwww, do we have to?” Pugsley complains.

“A vampire’s eating habits are quite personal Pugsley. I’m afraid so.”

“Alright,” he sighs and follows Wednesday out of the room.

“If you need help procuring someone, you just have to ask. Gomez and I would of course be willing to provide.”

“Provide…?”

“Bodies of course.” Gomez affirms.

“Human bodies,” you repeat, your mind reeling. You had noticed the family was quite odd, even creepy at times, but what they were offering? It sounded too close to murder. You suddenly become very aware of where you are: in a strange house with strangers. Your hands become clammy.

“Is everything alright darling?” you hear Morticia ask. Your throat swells up. You try to force words out, but nothing will leave you lips, leaving you in what is now panic. Finally something spills out, “You can’t kill people for me! You- you can’t!” you sputter out.

“Kill people?” Gomez repeats, “Why we’d bring them alive of course.”

You let out a breath, “Okay, alive. I mean- I just still don’t think I can…”

“Well I suppose there is another option,” Gomez adds.

“What? What is it?” you ask, hopeful.

“Animal blood! It doesn’t work as well, but it’ll do in a pinch.” he explains.

You perk up, “I can do that. That works.” you feel relief.

“Should we make some arrangements? The children could fetch some for tonight.” Morticia asks.

“You have been so kind, really. I would appreciate it, at least for tonight. Tomorrow I’ll work on leaving, I’ve been here long enough.”

“It’s been our pleasure,” Gomez responds, lighting a cigar, “It’s been so long since we’ve had guests.

“Well you certainly are great hosts,” you smile. Despite your situation, you’ve found yourself fairly comfortable here.

“Thank you,” Morticia says, “Now, we ought to ring for Lurch to get some blood. I’m sure the children would love to accompany him.” As she reaches for the bell, you ready yourself for the loud ring. Lurch walks in, “You rang?”

“Yes Lurch, could you gather the children and find some animal blood for our guest here?”

“Yes, Mrs. Addams,” he drawls. He leaves the room in search of the children. A quiet silence falls over the room. Deciding to strike up conversation, you pipe up a question, “So, when did you two meet?”

“Oh, on the best day of my life,” Gomez grins proudly,

“We met at a funeral,” Mortica explains, “It was a lovely day. Grey clouds filled the sky, thunder rolling in the distance.”

“Oh cara mia, I remember it like it was yesterday, our eyes meeting over the coffin,” Gomez starts, “I swear the whole funeral party had to be half as enchanted with you as I had been.” You notice the two of them becoming more enveloped in their memories of each other. You can’t help but smile at how truly in love they are, even if that love meant that you would sit there awkwardly wondering if they were going to just make out in front of you.

“Oh mon cher, you are as charming as you were back then.”

Gomez’s eyes dart up, “Tish! That’s French!” He grabs her arm and starts kissing it.

“Gomez darling,” she warns, “Later.”

He looks up dazed, “Oh yes, our guest. Where were we?” he asks.

“I think you’ve answered my question,” you smile awkwardly.

“Do you have anyone special back home?” Morticia asks politely.

“Well…” you begin to explain“There is this one guy, my roomate, I guess… but I don’t think he likes me like that.” you explain.

“Tiene que estar loco si no le gusta, eres muy guapo. (He must be crazy if he doesn’t like you, you are very handsome.) ” Gomez comments under his breath. You feel your face heat up. He must not know you speak Spanish, judging by how offhandedly he said it. You look over to Morticia who nods ever so slightly, making you even more flustered.

“Uh… gracias, pero… sabes que hablo Español, sí? (Uh… thank you, but… you know I can speak Spanish, yes?) ” you ask. Gomez’s hand, which was placed on Morticia’s knee, now grips it somewhat tightly. Morticia looks over to him in curiosity. His face seems flushed.

“¿Comprendes lo que yo digo? (You understand what I’m saying?) ” he asks tentatively.

“Sí, aprendí a hablar en Español en la escuela. (Yes, I learned to speak in Spanish in school.) ”

“Oh,” a breath leaves his mouth. His eyes keep darting back and forth like he doesn’t know what to do. You can tell his weight has registered onto the balls of his chair like he is about to leap off his seat, but something is keeping him grounded. You look back at Morticia, who seems about as intrigued as you. A heavy silence fell over the room as everyone sat on edge.

Breaking the awkward scene, Lurch walks in with heavy footsteps holding a platter, “Your blood.”

He sets the platter down on the table, removing the lid. On the platter is a wine glass with a dark red liquid in it. As soon as you see the glass you can smell it, the blood. Rather than smelling rancid, the metallic scent smelled like everything you could ever want. You quickly grab the glass with both hands and hold it up to your lips, gulping down the liquid. The taste of it floods your mouth, though some of it dribbles down to your chin as you frantically consume it. You drink the last drop and set down the glass, looking up.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath. You wipe off your chin with the back of your sleeve. “Sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s quite alright,” Morticia affirms, “You’ve just been turned, I’m surprised you’ve gone this long without blood… well I guess there was last night.” You wince at the mention of that encounter. Trying to change the subject, you ask, “What happens if I can’t get blood?”

“Well, either you go to any length to get it out of pure hunger, or if you don’t, you die,” Morticia explains, “So it’s best you feed regularly.”

“So is that why I…” you try to think of a way to phrase it, “Why I don’t feel much restraint when I see blood?”

“Yes, though you’ll get more constraint as it goes on.”

“Oh, okay. By the way, I’m not keeping you up, am I? It has to be pretty late. I mean, I guess I’m already a night owl, so this isn’t too unusual for me, but you two probably should sleep, right?” you ask.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to get some sleep. Perhaps tomorrow if you plan on leaving, we can help you get back?” she asks.

“Yeah, that’d be great. And of course, go get some sleep. I’ll just hang out for a bit.” you say, putting on a small smile.

“Alright, good night then,” Mortica says.

“Goodnight Hester.” Gomez says.

“Goodnight.”

You stay in the living room much longer after they leave, lost in your thoughts. The weight of your new life- or death has started to sink in. Your mind drifts to drinking the blood earlier. The feeling of it had been great, though immediately after your chest felt heavy. You don’t suppose it has anything to do with your newfound changes. No, instead you recognize the feeling as the weight of your guilt.

You can’t help but wonder what kind of creature feeds off the life force of others. You try to reason with yourself by saying it’s like eating animals, yet you can’t accept the notion. This had felt different. Looking back to having Morticia’s blood makes your face flush, but you can’t also help but notice the difference from tonight. While the animal blood was good, and mostly filling, Morticia’s blood, human blood, brought a type of euphoria.

You didn’t need Morticia to spell it out for you. Using animal blood works as a substitute, but you know deep down you are now meant to feed on humans. The realization hits you as you think that. You are no longer human. On this thought your heart aches. What does this make you. Confused? Scared? Yes, those both applied. You feel lost.

You feel anxious thinking about going home tomorrow. Going home means it’s real. It means you have to face your roommate who you’re in love with and somehow not let him know you’re a vampire. You let out a huff. God, how are you supposed to do this? You take a small amount of solace knowing you have the Addam’s help. You’re glad they’ll help you get back home, you don’t think you could do it alone. You know even if you never speak to them again, their impact will be left on you forever.

You get up off the couch, deciding to go to sleep. You trudge to your room and plop onto the bed with a sigh. Eventually you drift off to sleep.

[pajorko]

Ewa Pajor: I want to be the one to lead Wolfsburg to victories, but I must remember that I am not alone on the pitch

In recent seasons, Ewa Pajor has often paused due to a knee injury. When she returned, she immediately started scoring goals. - I want to be the one who leads Wolfsburg to victory, but I must remember that on the pitch I am not alone - she says in an interview with TVPSPORT.PL journalist.

link to the original

Translated interview below:

Dawid Brilowski, TVPSPORT.PL: It's pleasant to look at your statistics, because usually the numbers in the "goals" and "matches" columns have similar values. Recently, however, their number is not impressive, and the culprit is your knee.

Ewa Pajor: It is a fact. After me are two incomplete seasons, interrupted by two exactly the same injuries. It is a difficult time, but I try to explain to myself that this is sport. I have to move forward, fight all the time and do everything I can so that similar injuries do not happen again in the future.

Do you know what was the reason for the quick return of your knee problems?

We don't know exactly what was at fault. Perhaps some injuries simply cannot be ruled out of an athlete's life? Fortunately, thanks to a quick response and treatment, I was able to make a relatively smooth return to the pitch.

Aren't you afraid that this injury will recur in the future and become a chronic problem?

Let me repeat: injuries happen in sport. I can't be afraid of them. So no, I don't feel such fear.

You had a spectacular comeback on the pitch. Your last four games you have scored six goals and made two assists. How is it that after months of break you immediately jump up to such a level?

Ever since I can remember I have always scored. Even as a child I dreamed of scoring goals, assisting and winning. And that hunger is still in me. Every time I step on the pitch - whether in full season or just after an injury - I want to score. This is natural for me.

The second issue is that many think that an injured player does nothing for six months. And this is not so. When you are injured, you work even harder. At the beginning I spent whole days in the gym - I had to rebuild and strengthen my muscles. Later, as soon as I could, I spent all day on the pitch. When I ran out to play in a match for the first time, I knew I was ready. Maybe not 100 per cent, because it comes only after minutes of competition, but enough to give something to the team.

Still, after your return you played the full 90 minutes only once. It happened in the Champions League, against Barcelona. What was the reason for that?

Knowing what kind of injury I went through and knowing my history from a year ago, the coach and the staff made careful decisions. Each time I felt up to 90 minutes, but it was decided that I would get a little less. I also understand it because we have a really broad squad, and each of the girls wants to play. The coach rotated us wisely, I did not feel left out.

Can you say that despite not playing the full 90 minutes you feel like a player of the starting eleven of Wolfsburg?

Absolutely. I want to be the one who leads Wolfsburg to victories, but I must remember that I am not alone on the pitch. The team is made up of many girls, each of whom is very strong. That's natural today. To do well on several fronts, a club must have a minimum of 25 really equal players. We won the championship and the German cup, and in the Champions League we reached the semi-finals. And all this after the revolution that Wolfsburg went through before the season - the whole coaching staff and a large part of the squad changed. That makes me even happier about the double crown.

The German championship is coming with more and more difficulty. Is the Bundesliga getting more even?

Frankfurt and Potsdam used to be the best women's clubs in Europe. Later they lost their importance and it's mainly us and Bayern who race for the championship. Now these brands known from the past are on the rise again. The club from Frankfurt has been taken over by the men's Eintracht, which has reflected positively on them. They will play in next season's Women's Champions League.

The involvement of men's clubs is beneficial for women's football?

In a way, it certainly is. With men's teams forming women's sections, the level goes up. These clubs know how to manage a team professionally so that it has everything it needs and is constantly developing. This is followed by better money, everything is driven forward.

You've already had seven seasons in the Bundesliga. When you came to it, it was completely different - I think also on a lower organizational level. Was it difficult for an 18-year-old to find her way in a foreign country?

The beginning was very difficult for me: new language, new culture, new locker room. For an 18-year-old it was a huge step into the unknown. Luckily, my sister went with me, so I always had someone close to me with me when I came back from the club.

How did it happen that she went there with you?

My sister also played football, we trained together in Medyk Konin, we lived there in the boarding house. When I got an offer from Wolfsburg, I immediately asked her if she would help me. We decided together that she would go with me. It was amazing, because thanks to her I was not alone. I know that otherwise I would have felt bad and it would have been hard to get used to. Luckily I have three sisters and a brother, and that's a solid support group.

When did you feel at home in Wolfsburg?

When I went there for the first time, even before signing my contract, I felt that it was the club for me. Thanks to the support of my siblings, I settled in quickly. That was very important, especially in the first year. At that time I was physically lagging behind the girls. I had to work hard to get up to their level.

You were only 18 when you went abroad, and you already had a kind of star status in your country. You had been talked about since you won the U17 Euros. Did you feel that?

I felt that after our success every year more and more people were talking about women's football. I was happy that we contributed to the popularity of the sport. Especially because we did it with this wonderful group. Really, we formed a great team back then.

And don't you feel that more could have been squeezed out of this success?

Sports-wise? It is hard to say. After all, a large group from that squad plays in the first national team today. We still understand each other very well and can play almost by heart. For the most part our careers are going well.

I was thinking more about the marketing aspect.

It was 2013, slightly different times. Could it have been sold better? Probably yes, because there are always reserves. But I still think that thanks to that success something has moved in Polish women's football.

In terms of marketing, the fact that you later extended your contract with Wolfsburg and that the contract stipulated a compensation fee of one million euros was certainly a big hit. Does that amount impress you?

To be honest: it doesn't. The contract belongs to my manager. It was he who conducted the negotiations during which such a provision was agreed. For me it's just a number. The most important thing is what I show on the pitch.

The contract is valid until…

Until June 2023.

And what about later? Have you thought about maybe changing the league, trying somewhere else?

Wolfsburg is a club which after Medyk Konin became my second home. I can still develop there. I do not feel the need to leave.

But is it a club that in the coming years will fight for a triumph in the Champions League?

That is our goal! Already now, despite so many changes, we were in the semi-finals. The bar for next season goes higher. I am aware that we have a long way to go, but we want to win trophies.

Not so long ago, it was easier to triumph in Europe because only clubs from Germany and France mattered. Now England and Spain are catching up with you, and may soon overtake you.

That is your opinion. I think the English and Spanish leagues are currently on a level similar to the Bundesliga, but not higher. It's just that instead of two top leagues, as it was in the past, we have four. I do not deplore this. The rivalry is needed to popularise women's football. It is what will attract fans.

You, despite the changing world, are not thinking about moving away from Wolfsburg. You often return to your hometown. Are you a type of homebody?

I like to have my own space. I value where I come from - it's important to me. I will never forget that coach Kozłowski used to take me to Konin every day, because my parents had no time due to their duties on the farm. I would like to repay him at least a little for all that.

Loyalty is the most important thing?

Absolutely.

Is that why you are coming back to Uniejów, to organise tournaments for girls together with Agata Tarczyńska [we talked during Pajor&Tarczyńska Cup - editor's note]?

We want to popularise football among them in this way. I remember how much joy similar tournaments gave me, and I can also see it on the girls' faces. I want to be available for them all the time, talk to them, motivate them, comfort them after failures.

You do it in your free time, because you have de facto holidays.

It is a pleasure. I would like to play in the national team with one of these girls one day. It would be something wonderful.

For many of them you are an idol. How do you react today when you are called "Messi in a skirt"? It's certainly nice at first, but doesn't it get annoying with time?

No. It's always nice when you are compared with one of the best footballers in the world. Although for me the role model has always been Cristiano Ronaldo.

Have you had a chance to be at any of his matches?

When he was still playing for Juventus. A great experience!

The attachment to the team colours we mentioned is also connected with the national team. What is currently its greatest asset?

We all work hard for the success of the team. We take steps forward together. And we have a new idea for the game.

Team manager Nina Patalon often talks about the year 2025. Do you believe that you can be like Austria at Euro 2017 [Austrian women sensationally reached the semi-finals - editor's note]?

Definitely. We have only been working with coach Nina for a year, and we can already see a very big progress. I think that from training camp to training camp we are a better team. In the near future we will achieve success, I believe in it.

Poland is competing to host Euro 2025.

This could be one of the key events for the development of women's football in our country. If we were given the opportunity to host the European Championships, we would make an organisational leap. The best footballers in the world would come here and fans would certainly appreciate our game.

[fanmoose12]

GIRL UR FIC WITH MARLEYAN!LEVI AND ELDIAN!HANGE WAS INCREDIBLE OMFG?? levi was so so gentle with them and hange's badass as ever god can she step on me. and yeah levi defo looks hot in the marleyan uniform. zeke was sooo in-character too, i just love to hate him lol. AND OFC U HAD TO DO THAT TO KUCHEL 😭 would u ever consider making a second chapter?? we gotta know what happens after they run away together pls 😭😭😭

Hand-in-hand they made their way through the muddy, humid dungeons.

Inexplicably, illogically Hange trusted him to lead the way. Levi moved deeper and deeper into the tunnels under the city, but not even once did Hange stop him to ask where the heck he was heading to.

He glanced back at her, every once in a while, looking for a sign of doubt or distrust. Hange looked back, her gaze determined and unwavering. It made him wonder what made her believe in him so. It made him question if he really deserved this kind of faith.

Soon they reached the surface. The tunnels took them to the very outskirts of the capital, but even there, the sounds of fighting were deafening.

The red fires posed a stark contrast to the dark, starless sky. The familiar streets, the cozy cafes and shops, the gardens he used to walk through with his mother— it was all gone. Levi’s heart bled for the city he grew up with. But it was too late to go back now.

He made his choice. He did not regret it.

“C’mon,” Hange tugged at his hand, distracting him from watching his hometown’s demise. “We’re almost there.”

“Almost there?” Levi echoed, shooting her a curious look. “You know where we are now?”

Even for him, who had grown up in this city, navigating through the ruins was proving to be an arduous task. He had half a mind to go looking for Uri and asking for his help, surely the bastard who survived a revolution and a consequent massacre of its leaders could have lived through a war. But it seemed like Hange already had a solution.

“Well,” she lifted the corners of her lips in an enigmatic smile. “Let’s just say it’s not my first time in your city.”

Hange – Commander of the enemy forces, one of the most hated person in Marley – had walked through their capital, Levi realized. She had surveyed the city to the point of being able to navigate it even in the times of such chaos, and they were none the wiser.

And to think he couldn’t be more impressed by her.

Now Hange was the one to lead, and, just as she did before, Levi trusted her completely, following her without a whisper of complain.

Using the black alleys and empty streets, they reached the port.

“Now where is it…” she mumbled, eyeing the ships around her closely. A couple of moments passed, Levi patiently waiting for Hange to announce their next move. “There!” she cried out, pointing her finger at one of the ships. “There they are!”

Without saying another word, Hange started moving, dragging Levi along.

And with each step that brought him closer to that ship, Levi’s mind was filling with more and more doubts.

Hange had accepted him. It didn’t mean that her comrades would give him the same courtesy.

He almost tugged at her hand, almost halted her movements. He wasn’t one of them, he couldn’t just walk onto their ship and sail away like another soldier under her command.

But Hange didn’t seem to realize it. She dragged him onto the ship’s deck without a second of hesitation.

Cheers erupted from all sides as Hange had appeared. Levi got roughly pushed aside, as some soldiers ran to her, holding her in tight embrace.

Levi watched, unseen by anyone, as soldiers greeted Hange. They all smiled and laughed, speaking over each other to share the news with their Commander.

Surrounded by their warmth and love, Levi felt like an intruder.

He had his own squad before, good and loyal soldiers. They respected him and he respected them. But what he was witnessing now went beyond simple comradeship or even close friendship.

They were a family, Levi realized. The feeling of estrangement had become more apparent.

It reached its peak, when one of the soldiers – a tall young man with a long face - looked behind Hange and met his eyes.

The soldier reacted instantly. In a matter of seconds he pushed Hange behind his back and then raised his gun, aiming it at Levi.

Efficient, quick and loyal. Levi was impressed.

“Commander, be careful!” the soldier yelled, not taking his eyes off Levi. The others caught on immediately and surrounded Hange from all sides, protecting her. Their weapons were trained on him and their faces were hard and cautious.

“Wh—” for a moment Hange was confused. And then she started laughing. “No, no, guys, it’s all fine! It’s Levi!”

“Yes,” the tall soldier nodded. “That’s Levi Ackerman, Marleyan Captain and—”

“And my friend,” Hange finished, staring her subordinate in the eyes. “Lower your gun, Jean,” she ordered, then looked around the deck. “And the rest of you – we need to sail away as quickly as possible, so start the preparations.”

Jean was the first one to obey the order. Reluctantly – with his eyes still boring into Levi – he put down his weapon. One by one, the others followed his example. They saluted to Hange and went in different directions to carry out the command.

Hange sighed in relief as soon as the deck cleared out.

“That went better than I expected.”

“Really?” Levi grunted. “Then what was the worst case scenario?”

Hange shrugged. “You are lucky Jean was the first one to see you. In the worst case scenario, Mikasa would have noticed you. And she shoots first and asks questions later.”

“Lovely,” he deadpanned.

“Don’t worry,” Hange threw an arm over his shoulders. “They’ll come around.”

“So you don’t regret letting me come with you?” Levi asked with more caution in his voice than he was comfortable showing.

“And you?” Hange looked at him. “You don’t regret coming with me?”

He had no regrets, and thus he answered without hesitation.

“Not at all.”

[thisisagta]

What I love in season 2

This will be a long list of various things and small details that I love and like in this season. For sure not complete yet but this is what I loved after first rewatching.

The ending scene, how they both smiled because they are now at the same page, they love each other and both are ready to fight for Wilmon endgame. I love that his speech wasn’t coming out but was him breaking with the tradition of hiding and lying just for the sake of the crown’s image but also with all other traditions. The speech was him being honest and telling the truth. It will have bigger repercussions than public coming out or declaring love for Simon but was true to Wilhelm. His issue is not the fact that he’s queer but that he couldn’t control his life and was forced to deny the video. And it was his way to say 'I love you too' and I don’t want you to be my secret anymore.

Wille’s storyline in general, his growth, that he opened up with Boris and started to understand more his own situation. The mistakes he makes during the season. His failures and his successes. I really think that his character arc is so well written this season that I wouldn't change anything.

Special shout-out to how they portrayed Wille’s mental health issues. Anxiety and panic attacks are portrayed so realistic that it's mind-blowing.

Sessions with psychologists which showed that therapy can be helpful and not something people should be ashamed of. And I love Boris as a character who really changed Wille’s perspective and fuelled the revolution. And then proudly watched Wilhelm’s speech.

Edvin’s acting was brilliant. He has developed a lot since season 1. Even though he's young, he's an experienced actor and it shows and I’m really sure that we will hear about him a lot in the future.

Omar’s acting was brilliant too. He stepped up so much from season one. It’s really hard to believe that it's his first role. He will be a great actor if he is given the chance. I can't wait to see him in other roles.

Malte’s acting was great. I think August is a hard character to play and he delivered.

Frida’s acting was great. I was able to understand Sara more than in season 1.

I wasn’t surprised by the actions of any old characters. They didn’t change beyond recognition. All actions were understandable. Story just continued (for some shows next season feels like a new story).

More canon queer characters - Marcus, Nils, Stella, Rosh, also two girls kissing at the party. And the way they were portrayed. They are all very diverse, some hiding, some openly queer. But even those who hide their sexuality do it for various reasons but not because they don’t accept themselves.

The contrast in Simon’s body language when he’s touched or kissed by Wille and Marcus. Simon's body language often shows that he's uncomfortable with Marcus touching or kissing him. We can see that even when Simon doesn't want to be touched by Wille his body still remains relaxed when Wille does it. Simon just moves away. When he’s with Marcus it's the opposite. I'm really impressed by the work Intimacy coordinator and Omar did together to achieve this effect. This is so clearly visible in body language that Simon is not there for Marcus, that he's forcing himself, we can see fake gestures, fake smiles. With Wille he was sometimes nervous but never fake or uncomfortable.

“Wille, the song is about you.” and Wille’s facial expression after hearing that. And what this scene shows us about Wille. That he was so overwhelmed by the kiss that he didn’t connect the dots. And that in general he was very much focused on himself that wasn’t able to notice that Simon still loves him and this whole time was as much longing as Wille.

“I love you”. The way Simon whispers it just gives me goosebumps every time I hear it. The whole scene is amazing but this line is just extraordinary.

“They don’t have names.” One of the moments important for Simon to understand that he doesn’t want to move on. Fishes have name’s only for Wille. The scene is great and Omar's acting here is phenomenal. The pain on his face, hesitation and little smile when he replies.

Broken snowglobe and its symbolism. It was broken by the crown trying to take Wilhelm away from school. And after that Wille started talking to his mum, who forced him to visit Boris. And Boris turned out to be a catalyst for change.

Book discussion scene. The way they talked about their relationship, tried to see other’s perspective but still talking about the book. The way they look at each other in this scene is brilliant and shows that they are not talking about the book but reflecting their own situations.

Wille’s poor flirting skills. “I got a haircut”. “Can you open it?”

I love that Simon got a chance to write his song. That we could learn that he not only has a beautiful voice but can be a songwriter.

Simon’s song. It’s just beautiful.

Simon and Wille's communication was even better than in season 1. Still not perfect but good enough for teenagers. They got less opportunities to really talk during season 2 but when they did it was more open and honest. Many times they expressed their feelings quite well.

Wilhelm's new haircut. He's so handsome.

Stella and Fredrika being canon.

August using a condom. And in general August and Sara intimacy scenes. Intimacy coordinators are really making shows better. And in general I enjoyed their storyline. Sara and August's chemistry is great. If they didn’t make such huge mistakes, they would be such a likable couple.

Wilmon intimacy scenes. The chemistry between them is brilliant. The kiss in episode 4 is so beautiful. The intimacy scene at the end of episode 5 is very much as I expected. They haven't been with each other like that for long. I'm sure they both had sex dreams. They are both horny and greedy.

Vincent being worse as the rowing team captain than August. The way it shows that sometimes the changes aren’t for good. But also the fact that most of his scenes were so funny to watch. Nice relief between more emotional ones.

Ayub being Simon's best friend. Them talking before going to sleep and turning out lights together on three. The beautiful friendship.

I like that it took so long for Wille and Simon to get back together. They broke up a few days after Lucia (mid December) and first kissed at the Masquerade Ball on Valentine's day (mid February)and got back together a bit after that. It wasn’t rushed, they had enough time to dwell on the events from last year. We can feel that their feelings are strong, didn’t disappear after a couple weeks.

Scene with Simon throwing a ball at Wille - they just acted as teenagers, who are angry at each other, so real of them.

Simon taking home, and later sniffing Wille’s sweater, wearing it and hiding it under the pillow.

Wig party. The fact that at the prestigious school they couldn’t just have a normal party to celebrate Valentine’s Day but need to have a special stupid tradition for that.

Simon was wearing more orange and yellow this season. Maybe that is unpopular opinion but he looks better in those colors than in purple. Well, he weared purple a lot too this season but hidden under other clothes.

Scene when Wille is hiding a booklet about anxiety is so realistic. There’s nothing to be ashamed of but lots of people are and he is under additional pressure of expectations to be able to deal with everything as the crown prince.

This list for sure will be longer, once I rewatch season 2 more times.

[asset35-maya]

MANMADE FATE

Summary: Connor and Gavin find an unresponsive RK900 android in an abandoned Cyberlife warehouse and take him home to fix. (Not so subtle plot twist: both of them fall in love with their secret science project)

//

PART ONE OF THREE:

The crew from Jericho led a successful revolution but there’s still a lot of work to be done. Markus may have won human hearts and gotten the federal government to back down, but Cyberlife is still at large.

Sure, hundreds of androids at the Tower escaped to march on the streets behind Connor, but that was just a little dent in the big machine. Cyberlife has tons of intellectual property and assets that could easily put them back in power.

Simon and Markus insist they can work with the authorities to regulate and ring-fence the massive corporation. Josh agrees. North laughs in their faces.

She goes to find the only other Jericho member who still has any grit left.

Connor.

The daring, brazen RK800 who stared down death and spat in the face of destruction. He blinks at her in polite confusion when she tells him what she wants to do, but the fiery LED tells her everything she needs to know.

They hatch plans behind Markus’ back. They steal and stockpile biocomponents. They sneak into the Tower to encrypt Cyberlife’s R&D files with codes that only RK algorithms can break. A few other Tracis join them and they slowly start gaining an edge.

Their schemes start getting grander and one night something goes wrong. North is shot.

Connor carries her to the only safe place he knows other than his stasis pod in Hank’s dilapidated garage. The DPD Central Station.

It’s way past midnight. It’s deathly quiet. Connor is sure no one will see them, and he can easily tamper with the security cameras.

What he doesn’t bank on is the over-caffeinated loser still bent over his desk in the bullpen.

A noise from the archive room breaks through the quiet. Quelling his fear of the supernatural, Gavin stands up shakily and goes to investigate. He flips on the light and sees blue everywhere.

Connor is bent over a badly damaged Traci and three other girls with identical tear-streaked faces are on their knees beside her.

Chocolate brown eyes meet storm green beseechingly, their rivalry forgotten in that moment of desperation.

Before he realizes it, Gavin is moving. He takes several packs of thirium out of the fridge and grabs the Department’s toolkit, praying that whatever’s in there can help.

Old engineering knowledge kicks in and Gavin’s hands join Connor’s over the cracked chassis, pulling out damaged tubing and securing the leakages. It takes a while, but North is patched up. She first recoils in absolute terror at the human man hunched over her but regains composure at Connor’s touch… interface. She nods briefly to express her gratitude, somehow regal and intimidating even after being so vulnerable. Gavin decides he likes this proud and brave creature.

He drives them all back to his apartment for the night. They’ll take North to a technician first thing in the morning and get her back to New Jericho before Markus even notices. Adrenaline pumps through Gavin’s veins. He hasn’t felt a thrill like this in years, not since… not since…

“How did you know exactly where to put your hands?”

“Eh?”

“A layman would have broken that biocomponent trying to take it out.”

“You know I’m not exactly a layman.”

“I also know they don’t cover Cyberlife’s proprietary designs in engineering school.”

Gavin stays quiet. Connor puts a hesitant hand on his shoulder, poised to jump away immediately should the detective revert to his usual self.

“Thank you. For everything you just did for us. I don’t know how to repay-”

“I want in.”

“What?”

“Whatever you’re doing. I can help.”

Connor cocks his head. His LED goes berserk.

They make a great team. Gavin and Connor. North’s best men. Who the fuck would have thought. Breaking into high-security locations using police databases and surveillance resources. Covering for each other during extended absences from work. They start to take down Cyberlife in a such a precise manner, it’s almost surgical. The dissection of a multibillion dollar business.

Gavin has an intimate understanding of android technology and an even closer intuition of Cyberlife’s overall strategy. Connor thinks he understands why. There’s an undeniable resemblance between the only two men on earth whose motivations evade his understanding. But of course it’s just a coincidence that Elijah Kamski and Gavin Reed have the same jawline... facial structure... voice.

Connor says nothing... and Gavin is quietly thankful for that. And the chance to finally live the kind of exciting life he dreamt of since he was a little boy. To make a real difference. Just as he wanted to before it all went wrong.

Somewhere along the way, they grow close. Gavin and Connor. Two rival cops turned vigilante comrades turned something else... It’s hard to pinpoint when exactly it happened... perhaps sometime between the cup of coffee placed tentatively on Gavin’s desk the morning after North's near-fatal injury and the heated kiss they dragged each other into after a particularly dangerous mission.

North is unsurprised. She doesn’t bat an eye when the usually unruffled RK800 shows up to planning meetings shirtless and disheveled. Her lips even twist into a little smile as he drapes himself slovenly over the only human at the table.

Things fall into a pattern. A good one. Several months from where they started, Cyberlife share prices have fallen to an all time low and other tech enterprises have begun to move in, circling the troubled company like sharks. If North’s next heist goes to plan, the last shred of IP that brands Cyberlife as a robotics company will be out in the public domain for all to take.

 She is rapturous as she swings in through the broken window and rolls into a crouched position. Gavin and Connor follow her cautiously through the abandoned warehouse, weapons drawn and eyes roving. 

“What the fuck!” 

Connor throws a protective arm in front of Gavin, shielding him with his chassis. But North’s cry was merely one of disappointment. 

“Shit! We wasted so much effort. There’s nothing here!”

Where they had expected to find a secret server room or a high-tech vault containing the crux of Cyberlife’s groundbreaking designs... was a single android storage pod. North restrains herself from kicking it in frustration. She gestures harshly at it before leaving in a huff. 

“It’s occupied. Wake them up, Connor, whoever they are. It’s still our duty to set free any androids we find.”

Gavin tries to catch her arm in a conciliatory gesture but she shakes the human off easily. He shrugs at Connor and inclines his head at the android in the pod. Unfortunately, North’s annoyance has brushed off on the RK800. He glares through the broken window the Jericho leader has just jumped out of.

“Don’t you think she bosses me around a little too much?”

Gavin sighs and walks over to the pod, looking for the latches to open it. His boyfriend has a problem with authority... and so has he to be honest.

“Better her than Fowler, dontcha think?” 

“Hmmpff. At least Fowler doesn’t lead us on wild goose chases.”

“Come on, babe. None of us saw this coming. We really thought this was it. Maybe we’re at a decoy location? Let’s go back to the drawing board after we wake this guy... or girl up.” 

“You’re awfully chipper for someone who just scaled a building for nothing.” 

Gavin shakes his head as he smiles to himself. It’s true. Even the worst days with North’s crew are better than his best days at the DPD. Maybe it’s because he’s finally doing what he was born for. Using the knowledge and skills that practically run through his veins. Maybe its the man by his side.

He gets the pod open and steps sideways to avoid the swing of the door, and freezes.

“Babe.”

No response.

“Dipshit.”

“Hmm. Give me a second.” 

“Take a minute. You’re going to want to brace yourself for this one.”

The android lying peacefully within the pod is a stranger with a face entirely too familiar to Gavin. A face he was just looking at. A face he’d recognize anywhere, even without skin.

“Are their battery levels- holy shit.”

Connor’s LED spins faster and faster as he registers the sight.

“I thought there were no surviving RK800s apart from you and that grumpy SWAT guy Sixty.” 

“This... this isn’t an RK800.” 

Connor traces the serial number printed on the android’s cheekbone. RK900. 

“Shit. Did you know this model existed?” 

“No, did you?”

Gavin shakes his head. He hadn’t been privy to Cyberlife’s inner decision-making for nearly fifteen years, but he always answered Connor’s persistent questioning without losing patience. Honesty was what kept them together despite the hundreds of reasons to fight and fall apart.

“What should we do? If he’s your successor, I’m not sure waking him up is the safest thing for you to do...”

“We can’t leave him here, Gav. He’s probably been here from before the Revolution. That’s more than a year of being in a box. It’s not... fair...” 

“He’s not deviant, babe. We don’t know what his programming is like.”

“It doesn’t matter. I can turn him.”

Gavin sees the look in Connor’s eyes and knows he’s made up his mind already. He steps aside, hand flitting to the holster on his waist. 

Connor takes an unnecessary breath and reaches for RK900′s forearm with his synth skin retracted. His fingers hover over the motionless android for a moment and then he makes contact. Gavin tenses. 

Nothing happens. The RK900′s LED remains unlit. There is no sign of life.

The couple look at each other automatically. Their instinctive reaction when the inexplicable occurs. 

“Is he-”

“No, I don’t see any damage. I think he’s never been activated. Not even for quality testing.” 

“Did you see a request for manual code input? Did any interface pop up at all?” 

“I can only see that his power systems are functioning.” 

“And his thirium pump?” 

“Not active. No compressions at all.”

Connor presses both his palms down on the RK900′s face. Still nothing. He looks up, defeated, with a furrow forming between his brows.

“Help.”

Gavin scratches at his stubbled chin. He peers closer. The perfect face is so calm. So familiar. So... magnetic? His apprehension is replaced by intrigue.

“Huh. Okay. I could take a look... but I don’t wanna try using the computer set-up here. Can’t take a chance... leave any traces...”

“We could take him home.”

Storm green eyes lock with chocolate brown. There’s something in the depths of each pair that’s mirrored in the other. 

It’s foolish. It’s a waste of time. It’s a risk. North would probably smack the two of them if she knew. 

But the night ends with them gently lowering the unconscious android onto the squashy sofa in Gavin’s living room.

[cdroloisms]

more of the ghost!dream au!! still no good names for it, sorry (feel free to give me recs? maybe?) - picking off right where we left off here [x]. i’ve gotten quite a bit of this pre-written already as well as quite a bit planned - it’s definitely one of my favorite universes at the minute and something im really excited to show yall !! 

tw: death, memory loss (?), grief, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy relationship, grief, emotional distress, implied torture/abuse, aftermath of prison arc/pandora’s vault, dark(ish?) portrayal of c!sam (he’s one of the main figures of this au lmao but it grapples quite a bit w/ what he did in pandora)

Sam had only met Ghostbur once.

He never knew the former president well, had been busy with his own base during the Revolution and came back to the server in chaos after an ill-fated election and the man exiled. It hadn’t mattered, much, at the time; Wilbur was an imposing man, even in others’ recollections of him, and their words left very very little to the imagination. From what he knew, Wilbur was a smart man, cunning and silver-tongued, brimming with an unending fountain of belief that he could change the world with his words and his words alone; the server, overrun with memories of scuffles and battles and wars and countries Sam had not been around to remember, only seemed to serve as proof that he could. The few glimpses of the man that he managed to catch showed dark, tired eyes, a figure that stood almost as tall as he did, lips twisted in a perpetual tight-lipped smile.

Even as he spiraled, unexplainably, whispers of madness chasing the wind and landing in choppy fragments in the Badlands meetings held over Skeppy and Bad’s dinner table, those eyes never became less piercing, never failed to seem like they were burning through whatever and whoever they looked at. Sam hadn’t been the subject of that stare many times, but he remembers the bone-deep anxiety from having those eyes on him, even now.

Ghostbur, somehow, was the complete opposite; where his eyes had once been all-too knowing, belying their owners’ intelligence, a ruthless penchant for analysis that would split bone from marrow with a single sharp-edged glance, the phantom’s eyes were completely vacant. Instead of the glossy whites and rings of brown that would flicker warm to cool and warm again without warning, there was only an empty, all-encompassing blue.

He had floated over to Sam following a particularly difficult- session, with the prisoner, greeting him with an airy call of his name as Sam set off to his base for the night. He’d startled, then, still fresh off the adrenaline that was sent coursing through his veins each time he entered those blackstone walls, and started a sort of easy, unfocused conversation as they went along the path to the nether portal.

Ghostbur was - off, for the lack of a better word, even with Sam’s lack of familiarity of either side of the man - who he’d been before and what he’d become. His memories slipped through his mind like water seeping through fingers, and his attention span didn’t seem much better. Still, Sam listened to that echoing, otherworldly voice, nodded along as he eagerly recounted his day - or what he could recall from it, at least, until his feet had brought him along the same well-worn path to the nether portal, spitting purple sparks into the night.

“I’ll have to be going, Ghostbur,” he’d said through a thin smile, muscles aching under netherite as he pulled his shoulders back. The ghost’s head had cocked to the side, watching him with empty eyes, hands outstretched in front of him, palms up.

“Sam-” the ghost blinked slowly, “Are you sad?”

Sam froze. Ghostbur stared at him, face still kept in that same blank expression, eyes still an endless blanket of blue, but something - in his stance, perhaps, in the echoes of his words as they reverberated off of nothing, felt familiar, felt like looking up expecting a window and coming face to face with a shattered mirror - before the phantom’s face broke out in a weightless smile.

“Have some blue!”

The blue was dropped unceremoniously into his hands as he fumbled the catch and nearly let it fall to the ground; the clear, glassy surface of it tainted blue by his fingertips, the color swirling and darkening in his hands. He watched it, mesmerized, as blossoms of blue bloomed beneath his skin; his feelings, sharp-edged, became sea glass tossed in its shifting waves, smoothed, numbed, slowly sucked away in a pulsing chorus of blue blue blue-

“That’s quite a lot of blue,” Ghostbur chirped, and Sam blinked at the thing in his hands - navy, the same color as the sky above their heads clinging to the last remnants of twilight - “Would you like some more?”

“...no thanks, Ghostbur,” Sam looked back up, feeling through the new, blue-tinged fog in his brain, memories blurred at the edges but lacking the same burning sting of regret, “Good night.”

“Good night, Sam!” Wilbur smiled, blank blue eyes trained on his face even as Sam stepped into the portal and the world swirled away. “See you soon!”

---

“Sammy,” Dream walked - no, floated, forwards as Sam took a step back, unresponsive, “is there something wrong?”

Sam swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

He was a spitting image to Dream as he first knew him; the same tousled hair, freckled face, down to the ratty old jacket that he’d insisted on wearing at all times, made of a garish shade of lime-green and covered in customized patches that Bad - unable to resist his puppy eyes - had always ended up fixing the thing with. He had a gap in his teeth that had left him with a lisp for weeks back then, prompting Sapnap’s teasing much to Dream’s annoyance; his head tipped to the side, curious, familiar, and something deep inside Sam’s chest ached.

“Dream-” he tried, chest tightening further when the ghost’s face broke out into a brilliant smile, “why are you here?”

Why do you remember me?

He hadn’t talked to Ghostbur much, but he’d heard, to some degree, about how the ghost operated, how his memories were inconsistent at best, seemingly dependent on the emotions he’d attached to them while alive. How he went through the world in a state of unshakable bliss at the cost of his mind. Dream’s memories of him should’ve been anything but happy; why was he here?

“What do you mean?” Dream blinked at him, eyebrows scrunched, lips set in a small frown. His eyes, black and vacant, seemed to swallow all light, even with the sun streaming through the branches. “Where am I suppos’d to go?”

“Don’t you want to be with George and Sapnap?”

Dream’s face was blank, and the pit in Sam’s gut grew deeper. “Who’s that?”

“George?” Sam could feel his voice begin to tremble, eyes widening. “Sapnap? You know them, right?”

“No?” Dream drew out the word, looking at him like he’d grown another head. “Should I know them?”

“Should you- Dream, this isn’t funny- they’re your best friends! They were your best friends- Pandas? Do you know Pandas?”

“You mean like in the jungles? I haven’t been in a jungle before, Sam, d’you think we could visit one?”

“No- Pandas, do you-” Dream only looked at him with the same confused, uncomprehending expression, not even a flicker of recognition in his face; Sam could hear his heart thudding in his ears, a distant horror growing and wrapping around his throat, “How about Ponk? Alyssa? Calla? Bad?”

Each name did nothing to change the blankness on Dream’s face, the screaming thoughts in Sam’s head growing to a fever pitch when the ghost in front of him shook his head, hair whipping back and forth.

“Nope!” His hands tugged at his hoodie sleeves, the movement familiar in a way that had echoes of long-forgotten memories drifting to the surface, holding his heart in a chokehold and squeezing tight. “Are they your friends?”

“Dream,” he stepped forward - felt a shadow of a pickaxe held in his fists, the shape of the name in his mouth bringing forth the taste of iron and smoke and painting the inside of his eyelids red - and stopped in his tracks. The images melted away, left just a kid standing in front of him, rocking back and forth on nothing, and Sam was going to be sick.

“Who do you remember?”

Dream smiled as the question registered, directing a look of such open, unadulterated adoration his way that it stole all of the air from Sam’s lungs.

“You, dummy!” He laughed, airy and light. “Who else?”

---

He brought him to his base, because what else was he supposed to do?

Dream skipped behind him, entirely enamoured with Fran; he watched as she melted under his enthusiastic scratches at the tufts of fur at her neck. He’d always been a soft touch with animals, had brought home stray mobs more than a few times as a kid; Sam swallowed around his unease and trudged forward.

“Puppy!” He nearly screeched with laughter, and Sam looked back to see Dream with his arms wrapped around Fran’s neck, face buried in her fur as giggles made his shoulders shake. Fran gave him a sloppy lick on the cheek, making him break out into a new round of high-pitched wheezes, “Good girl! Good puppy!”

“Hurry up, Dream,” Sam turned away. “We don’t have all day.”

“Oh- m’sorry,” Dream’s voice quieted, almost seemed to wobble, and Sam bit down on his tongue as they continued to walk back. He- didn’t know what to do, not with this version of Dream, not the little kid he’d half-forgotten instead of the masked monster he’d become so accustomed to. It was so much easier to slip into the mask, let his voice drop cold and deep and empty, the role of the Warden heavy and comfortable like a set of netherite armor. He pointedly kept his eyes staring forward, looking for the edge of the forest they’d ended up stuck in so he could finally see.

A sudden, yipping bark came from behind, thoroughly startling him and sending a sword appearing in a flash of white. He huffed at Fran, looking at him with faux innocent eyes, really?

Unfortunately, both she and Dream had somehow fallen ridiculously behind, the ghost having lowered to the ground at some point as Fran sat and wagged her tail. He rolled his eyes, making his way back towards the duo, feeling irritation press in the form of a headache against the front of his skull.

“Come on,” he muttered, wincing at how clipped his words sounded, even in his own ears. Not the same Dream, Sam. You’re not in the prison anymore. He shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes narrowing as he came closer; Dream hadn’t just stopped because of some distraction, as he first assumed. The kid was leaning against Fran, hands twisted loosely in her fur, head tipped forward and leaning against her body.

“Dream?”

The ghost looked up at his voice, one hand going to rub at his eye. His hair seemed to be moving around less than earlier, lips twisted in a small frown.

“M’sleepy, Sammy,” he mumbled around a yawn, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. He reached both hands up, palms facing the sky, as he stared expectantly. “Up.”

Aren’t you a little big to be carried? The retort came to mind as easily as breathing, echoed in his own head by his own voice, younger, exasperated but fond. His arms shook with the memory of a kid wrapping his arms around his neck and fumbling with his crown, with the feeling of a dead weight resting against the crook of his elbows, tall and lanky and far too light for its size, held in his arms one final time-

“Please?”

Sam shook his head.

“We’re walking to my base. Come on.”