#like you man!! it’s probably not bc you’re religious

[gaylittleguys]

watching the alien prequels, Prometheus was pretty good, but I think the concept probably would have been stronger if it wasn’t a capital A Alien movie, also I wish the human tech looked clunkier like in the originals but that’s ok. I guess. 😔 Starting out Covenant and I don’t care for the guy taking over as captain.

[domm1etae]

sent to tempt me - chapter ten

chapter ten: unlikely truce

chapter summary: After an unexpected confession, Yunho finds himself tangled in a web of conflicting emotions as Mingi reveals the reasons behind his cold and teasing behavior. As tension between them rises, Mingi proposes a surprising deal

pairing: yunho x mingi

genre: smut (not yet but there will be eventually), angst, fluff, romance, m/m, non!idol!ateez, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, drama, coming of age, collage, religion

rating: 18+ (for the whole series bc there will be smut eventually) | mdni

word count: 2.3k

warnings under

collage, roommates, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, bad boy mingi and religious church good boy yunho same-sex attraction, m/m, teasing, dark themes, homophobia, self discovery, pet names, strangers to lovers, religion and religious topics, aaaand more will be added soon hehehe

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3 | this fics masterlist

author's note: well yeeeah this already came out 2 days ago but i didn't have time to upload it here ooops

Yunho sat frozen, his brain short-circuiting as Mingi’s casual words replayed in his head. He doesn’t hate me? The idea was almost too foreign to process. Mingi’s tone had been so nonchalant, like this was a normal thing to say, but it hit Yunho like a brick to the chest. He couldn’t even form a proper response, his mouth opening and closing as his wide-eyed stare locked on his roommate.

Mingi tilted his head, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “What’s with the face? Did I break you?”

Yunho blinked rapidly, snapping out of his daze. “N-No! It’s just...” He trailed off, his voice catching. “I don’t understand. Why would you even say that?”

“Say what?” Mingi asked, leaning back against the couch like he hadn’t just turned Yunho’s world upside down.

Yunho hesitated, his gaze flickering uncertainly to Mingi’s face. “You don’t hate me?” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, as if saying it too loudly might shatter the fragile reality he was trying to grasp.

Mingi sighed, running a hand through his hair before resting his arm along the back of the couch. “Yeah. I mean, earlier, when you knocked on my door, you said, ‘I know you probably hate me.’ And... I get why you’d think that, with how I’ve been acting, but—” he glanced at Yunho with a small smile that was oddly genuine, “I don’t hate you, man. Don’t worry about it.”

Yunho stared at him, his thoughts spiraling. He doesn’t hate me. He doesn’t hate me? It didn’t make sense. Mingi was always teasing him, pushing his buttons, being... well, Mingi. How could he possibly not hate him?

“Why?” Yunho blurted out, the word escaping before he could think it through.

Mingi chuckled softly, the sound warm and easy in the quiet room. “Why what?”

“Why don’t you hate me?” Yunho asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He felt ridiculous even asking, but he needed to know.

Mingi shrugged, as if the answer was so simple it didn’t even need much thought. “Why would I? You’re, like, the perfect roommate. You’re neat, you’re helping me patch up my wounds right now—even though you didn’t have to. Hell, you didn’t even say a word when my one-night stand was moaning loud enough for the whole building to hear.”

The room suddenly felt ten degrees hotter. Yunho’s face turned a deep shade of crimson, his hands twitching where they rested in his lap. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Mingi, his eyes instead locking onto the first-aid kit like it held all the answers to his current predicament.

Mingi’s smirk widened as he leaned forward slightly, clearly enjoying Yunho’s discomfort. “See? Perfect roommate. I don’t know anyone else who wouldn’t complain about that.”

“I-I just didn’t want to make it awkward,” Yunho mumbled, his voice barely audible as his gaze stayed fixed on the bandages. As if it wasn’t already awkward enough, he thought bitterly.

“Aw, you’re adorable when you’re flustered, you know that?” Mingi teased, his tone light and playful as always.

Yunho’s heart stuttered, his blush spreading to the tips of his ears. He felt like his entire body was betraying him, reacting to Mingi’s words in ways he couldn’t control. His chest tightened, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of everything. Mingi didn’t hate him. Mingi thought he was a good roommate—perfect, even. And now, Mingi was sitting there, looking at him like he was amused by Yunho’s embarrassment.

But amidst the storm of thoughts in Yunho’s head, one question burned brighter than the rest, cutting through his flustered haze. “But... if you don’t hate me, then...” He hesitated, glancing up at Mingi, who was watching him curiously. “Why do you always tease me? And why were you so mean all the time?”

Mingi froze at that, his smirk fading slightly as his eyes flickered with something Yunho couldn’t quite place.

Mingi didn’t answer Yunho’s question right away. Instead, he leaned back on the couch, his arms crossed over his chest. His face was unreadable, the playful smirk from earlier long gone. Yunho fidgeted in the silence, his mind racing with what felt like a million possibilities.

Finally, Mingi sighed, his voice flat. “Look, Yunho. It’s not that I think you’re a bad roommate or anything. Actually, you’re a good one. Great, even. But... my friends? They don’t exactly agree.”

Yunho’s breath hitched, confusion prickling at the back of his mind. “Your friends? What do they have to do with this?”

Mingi gave a dry laugh, shaking his head. “You really don’t see it, do you?” He looked at Yunho, his gaze sharp. “When they see you, they don’t think, ‘Oh, Yunho, the nice guy who’s neat and helpful. Let's hang out with him, read books and study well. Yay!’ They think, ‘What the hell is someone like me doing with someone like you?’”

The words struck Yunho like a slap, a pang of recognition hitting him as his memory flickered back to earlier in the semester. He remembered walking into the literature class that day, how Mingi’s group of friends had burst into laughter the second they saw the pairing list. The way one of them had nudged Mingi with a grin and said, “Seriously, you’re stuck with him? Good luck, dude.”

At the time, Yunho had tried to brush it off as some inside joke he didn’t understand. But now, the pieces started to click. They weren’t laughing at Mingi—they were laughing at him.

He swallowed hard, his heart sinking. So that’s what they think of me, he thought bitterly. Some loser who’s so far beneath Mingi that it’s actually funny.

Mingi’s voice pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts. “If I’d been all friendly with you from the start, they wouldn’t have let it go. You don't even know what went down when i defended you while they were over playing games here with me. They’d have been all over you—messing with you, talking behind your back, making you miserable. You’d never have wanted to come back to this dorm or school, trust me.”

Yunho’s hands clenched in his lap, his knuckles whitening. “So... you were mean to me because you didn’t want your friends to notice us getting along?”

Mingi shrugged, his expression indifferent. “Pretty much. It’s not like I had a choice. They’re not the type to let things slide. I figured keeping my distance—and, yeah, being a little rough—was the easiest way to keep you out of their crosshairs.”

Yunho stared at him, his chest tightening. He wasn’t sure what hurt more: the idea that Mingi had been mean to him on purpose, or the fact that it had all been to avoid the judgment of his so-called friends.

“You’re saying you did it for my own good?” Yunho’s voice cracked slightly, a mix of confusion and sadness spilling out.

Mingi nodded, his tone matter-of-fact. “Yeah. You wouldn’t have lasted a week if they’d treated you like...well something you don't want to know.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “And trust me, they’d have made sure you knew it.”

Yunho’s gaze dropped to his lap, his thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess. A part of him wanted to be angry—angry that Mingi had made him feel so small for weeks, angry that his so-called “protection” had come in the form of relentless teasing and coldness. But another part of him couldn’t help but feel... pathetic.

They really think I’m a joke, huh? he thought, a bitter taste rising in his throat. Even Mingi couldn’t see a way to protect me without treating me like I couldn’t handle it.

His voice was soft when he finally spoke. “I guess... I guess I should say thank you. For telling me, I mean.”

Mingi shrugged again, his demeanor unbothered. “Don’t mention it. Like I said, it’s not personal.”

But to Yunho, it was personal. How could it not be, when the words lingered in his chest, heavy and suffocating?

Yunho cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice. “Okay, we’ve only got the cut on your lip left, so... you’ll be out of here in a sec.”

Mingi nodded, leaning back casually, but there was something unreadable in his expression. “Alright,” he said simply.

Yunho scooted closer, his fingers trembling slightly as he picked up the antiseptic-soaked cotton pad. He focused all his attention on Mingi’s bottom lip, trying his best to ignore how close they were. The cut wasn’t deep, but it had bled enough earlier to look worse than it was.

Carefully, Yunho dabbed at the wound, biting his own lip in concentration. His other hand hovered near Mingi’s chin for support, but he hesitated to actually touch him.

What Yunho didn’t notice, however, was the way Mingi’s gaze lingered on him. Mingi wasn’t looking at the first-aid kit, or the cotton pad, or even the cut on his lip. He was looking directly at Yunho—at the way Yunho’s brows furrowed in focus, at the way his lips parted slightly as he worked, and at the faint blush creeping up Yunho’s neck.

It wasn’t until Yunho finally glanced up, their eyes meeting, that the weight of Mingi’s stare hit him like a freight train. Yunho froze, his breath catching in his throat.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The air felt heavier somehow, the silence stretching between them. Yunho felt his cheeks grow hot, the realization that he’d been so close to Mingi without even realizing it making his heart pound against his ribs.

But he didn’t look away.

Mingi’s eyes flickered down—to Yunho’s lips—and lingered there for what felt like an eternity. Then, with a low chuckle, he said, “Really, don’t take it personally. I mean it when I say I like having you around.”

Yunho’s chest tightened, his mind spinning as he tried to process the words. But before he could respond, Mingi leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“And you’re actually pretty cute,” Mingi added, his lips quirking into a lazy smile. “I like your kind.”

The words hit Yunho like a lightning bolt. His entire body tensed, his heart racing so fast he thought it might burst. What does he mean by that? Yunho thought, panicking as his face flushed an even deeper shade of red.

He bolted upright so fast he nearly dropped the first-aid kit. “O-Okay, all done!” Yunho blurted, his voice pitched higher than he intended.

Mingi’s smirk widened as he leaned back, completely unbothered by Yunho’s sudden flustered state. “Will I need to undergo some more of Doctor Yunho’s check-ups tomorrow?” he teased, the glint in his eyes unmistakable.

Yunho stammered, struggling to find his words. “Y-Yeah, I-I guess I can t-take a look at it,” he stuttered, clutching the first-aid kit like it was a lifeline. He turned toward the door, desperate to escape the unbearable tension in the room.

But before he could take another step, Mingi’s voice stopped him. “Hey, Yunho.”

Yunho turned slowly, his pulse still racing. “Y-Yeah?”

Mingi’s gaze was steady, his smirk still lingering. “Let’s make a deal.”

Yunho stood frozen near the door, his pulse still pounding from the tension of moments ago. He clutched the first-aid kit tightly, unsure whether Mingi’s “deal” would be something he could handle.

Mingi noticed Yunho’s hesitation and let out a soft chuckle, his expression relaxing slightly. “Don’t worry,” he said, his tone casual but firm. “It won’t be anything bad.”

Yunho blinked, his nerves still on edge. “What... what kind of deal?” he asked cautiously.

“For the sake of our project and our dorm room,” Mingi began, sitting up straighter and meeting Yunho’s gaze, “let’s be friends.”

Yunho’s brows shot up in disbelief. “What?” he blurted, his voice almost cracking.

Mingi shrugged as if the suggestion were the most obvious thing in the world. “You know, let’s be nice to each other. Get to know each other a little. Our work on the project will go a lot smoother if we’re not constantly at each other’s throats.”

Yunho frowned, the offer catching him completely off guard. “You... want us to be friends?”

“Sort of,” Mingi said, leaning back against the couch with a faint smirk. “But not like... best friends or anything. Let’s keep it casual—just here, in the dorm. No need to act all buddy-buddy when we’re out in public. That would not really work you know. But I will try being less mean to you in public.”

Yunho’s stomach churned at the thought, remembering how Mingi’s friends had laughed about them being project partners. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of embarrassment, but Mingi’s words made a strange kind of sense.

“So... just in the dorm?” Yunho asked hesitantly, his voice softer now.

Mingi nodded, his expression unreadable but less cold than before. “Yeah. Think of it like... a truce. We’ll be nice to each other here, work on the project, and maybe even get along a little.” He tilted his head, his smirk returning. “What do you think?”

Yunho hesitated, his heart still racing from everything that had just happened. Friends? Or something close to it? The idea felt strange—almost surreal—but a part of him wanted to believe that maybe things could get better between them.

After a long pause, Yunho nodded. “O-Okay,” he said quietly. “I guess we can... try that.”

Mingi’s smirk widened slightly, and he leaned back with an air of satisfaction. “Good. This’ll make things a lot easier. And hey,” he added with a faint glint in his eyes, “you might even like me if you give it a chance.”

Yunho didn’t know how to respond to that, so he quickly turned toward the door. “I-I should, uh, put this away,” he mumbled, lifting the first-aid kit slightly.

He hurried off to his room before Mingi could say anything else, his face flushed and his thoughts a whirlwind. What just happened? Did Mingi really mean it? Yunho wasn’t sure, but one thing was certain: this truce—or whatever it was—would definitely take some getting used to.

[angelyuji]

your fic abt fiddleford and ford has me thinking…fiddleford would def use the memory gun on you. to make sure you never find out and confront him or try to leave bc my man is sosososSO guilty. esp if hes doing it out of his own obsession and hes not being spurred on by ford/bill. if he gets rid of your memory youd never know he took advantage of you, so no harm done right?

itd probably also lead to him becoming much bolder and sloppier, bc your memory is gonna get erased anyway. he can do whatever he wants to you without any consequences

taking advantage of you wouldnt be the only reason hed feel guilty. my man is literally MARRIED. hes got a wife and son. hed feel so bad abt being unable to control himself around you (esp bc journal 3 says hes religious. which just adds another layer to the guilt)

also…hed have some creepily fluffy/domestic fantasies abt turning you into a housewife/househusband or having kids with you if hes rlly obsessed. hed definitely be a very “traditional” guy, even if you were the furthest thing from housewife/househusband material

thank you for coming to my ted talk. im very normal abt fiddleford

STOPPPP im starting to like fiddleford now too omg

18+ minors dni!!!!!

OMGGG THE MEMORY GUNN I TOTALLY FORGOT ABT THAT. i feel like if they use it at first, you would eventually break down to them that you feel like ur being haunted like why else do u wake up with scratch marks, hickeys, and cum leaking out of you🤕🤕 they’d obviously tell you by showing you exactly whyy ur waking up like that and this time they wont wipe ur mind cuz too many wipes will make u braindead (they do need ur support on building the portal)

I LOVEEEE RELIGIOUS GUILTTT SOOO MUCH (why i love matt murdock so much) like he’s def on his knees, begging for forgiveness and then immediately going to ur room and making you beg iykim

also totally forgot that he was married with children lmao😭😭 he’ll go home for christmas and miss you, and the entire time he’s thinking abt how ford gets you all to himself for a week and he’s stewing in jealousy.

he def would want to keep you as a housewife/husband. however, it wouldnt get that far cuz (if we’re following canon) fiddleford does end up leaving the project. i think you (research assistant!reader) would stay for science yk like this is smth you’re interested in building a career around. idk tho abt this part

[poppitron360]

Someone sent me an ask ages ago about my Valdangelo hcs, but it somehow got deleted? I’m really really sorry bc I missed a chance of a lifetime to infodump so I hope you’re reading this if that was you and you’ve been waiting for my response- here it is. Please please please don’t be discouraged I love it when people send me asks.

This also doubles up as the third instalment of my series about “Why Literally Any Ship Is Better Than Caleo/Deep-Dive Into My Thoughts On All Leo Ships”:

Pt. 1 Valzhang

Pt. 2 Valgrace

We were robbed of Leo and Nico’s friendship. I get that there are a lot of characters and so many arcs to give them, but I wish that Rick had given them more time to interact and spent less time on Caleo, because tbh we never really cared about Cal for any reason other than to develop the men’s arcs. Because Platonic Valdangelo has so much potential that just isn’t covered in the books, I’m gonna base most of this post on what COULD’VE been, from fannon and headcannons.

1. They are Trauma Twinsies. By that, I mean they are both metaphors for different ways of coping with loss. Nico pushes others away from himself, not wanting to get close to anyone. Leo pushes himself away from others, hiding behind an idealised version of himself. Both believe that letting others in would just lead to rejection, and so they shut everyone out to protect themselves. But I feel like Nico copes with it a lot better than Leo does. He has an outlet for it- being emo. As someone who dabbles with emoism myself, I can tell you that, for me, wearing those clothes actually makes me incredibly happy. Nico is owning his pain. Leo is bottling it all up inside and then hiding it behind the jokes and the smiles. I feel like Nico could teach Leo to let it out a bit.

2. Also, their backstories match in more ways than one. Both their moms were killed because of a prophecy about them- leading them both to blame themselves for their deaths. Both have been treated as outcasts because of their powers, Nico by CHB and CJ, Leo by his family (and probably CHB as well, though we don’t really see how he was treated after revealing his abilities). Both ran away because of that. Both probably have religious trauma. They’ve both lost everyone they’ve ever cared about. They’re both being smothered with love and affection by Jason and the rest of the fandom. They both cope with feeling alone by spending more time talking to things that aren’t alive, Nico to the dead, Leo to his machines.

3. So imagine how they could seek comfort in each other! They’ve both been through similar things, so they understand each other’s pain way better than the others. I mean, Jason means well, but he’s never truly known what it’s like to be an outcast- he was held aloft on a golden shield and pronounced Preator. Neither of them would try to “fix” the other, and they wouldn’t try to “one up” the other either. They just share, and when the other says “that sucks”, they know that they really mean it. I imagine they sit five feet apart and just cry. No talking necessary, just silent understanding passing between them. They keep each other company, because they both know what it’s like to be alone.

4. They are both autistic (headcannon). Thank you to @aroaceleovaldez for opening my eyes to this one, and in fact making me realise a few things about myself and why I relate to Leo and Nico so much (pls go check out their posts on the subject, they do a much better job at explaining it than me). But it’s true. I don’t know if Rick did it intentionally or not, but I henceforth hath claimed them both as my kin, alongside Hephaestus himself (“I don’t understand organic life forms”- me neither, man, me neither). Leo and Nico communicate on the same wavelength, something Caleo doesn’t do. Calypso explodes at him for not fitting the “hero” stereotype, for being different. She has no patience with Leo when he does a social fuck-up, something I personally find incredibly frustrating. When he does something wrong, she just shouts at him, and doesn’t take the time to explain what he should do differently. No wonder Leo immediately got defensive! Here was this random woman yelling at him because he broke her table, and he didn’t understand what he did wrong.

5. They are both tiny- much like how Leo and Frank’s physical appearances symbolise their differences, Leo and Nico’s symbolise their similarities. Because all sad people are short, apparently. Valzhang is the yin and the yang, Valdangelo is just two yins excitedly info-dumping about their special interests, (Mythomagic, Machinery/Dragons). Their shortness could be metaphors for many things that they have in common, but I think it best symbolises their loss of childhoods. Nico has changed a lot since he was that happy little ten-year-old we first met in ttc, but Rick never lets us forget that he’s still just a kid. Leo always lacked the physical advantage in fights, so he’s had to learn from an early age to use his brains and his wits to defend himself. As a result, he grew up way too fast, but he still projects that silly, hyperactive little-boy energy as a way to mask. Calypso ridicules Leo for his height and his scrawny appearance.

6. Nico could let Leo get closure on his mom. Think about it. He’d be able to summon her, let him make peace, and let him realise that she does not blame him for her death. Nico could console Leo, reassure him that it wasn’t his fault, because Nico understands more than anybody what Leo is going through. This helps Leo on his arc way more than Calypso could, help him get closure, and learn to accept himself and his powers.

So, the summary of all these points is: They can understand each other on ANOTHER LEVEL. More than Cal and Leo ever could.

Like I said in my Valzhang post, it doesn’t have to be romantic. I hate that everything revolves around romance. Platonic relationships are important, y’all! We all need them, especially Leo, considering how insecure he feels about being the “seventh wheel”.

What ship should I do next? These are all the ones I actively ship, but anything’s better than Caleo. Liper could be fun, or Perleo. Maybe, to prove that literally anything is better than Caleo, I’ll do Leo x Octavian? Lmk in the comments.

[dustyblinds]

Dude, I care! Give us those thoughts and maybe even snippets 🙂‍↕️ I want everything

YAY OKAY... i'm very excited to be sharing my rpf but please be nice bc i usually am not public abt my writing 😛

first of all i do have a fic published that few ppl know i wrote because iShy but it's bryce/cj... it's a super self indulgent fic about them both being religious and dealing with internalized homophobia in two different ways. if i were to rewrite it i would make it longer, but i think it's okay! here's a snippet:

“Bryce,” CJ sighed heavily, a palpable sadness lingering in the air. He hated hearing that, he'd told Bryce before. He found it difficult to cope with the idea of hurting Bryce because of his transgressions and those words served as a catalyst. Yet, it was hard for Bryce to resist the urge to confess when they were so close, so intimate. “You’re not God.”

In the end, it was God alone who could touch the parts of CJ that Bryce couldn't. The God who bound CJ to a version of himself he couldn't escape was the same God whose love he sought above all else. It stung. It always did.

“I know.”

And Bryce, he hated being sacrilegious. He grew up knowing the same God as CJ, singing the same hymns in a church choir fifteen minutes north of the temple where CJ learned to pray and take communion and give tithes. But there were moments, isolated seconds of “what-ifs,” where he longed to play God. He would tell CJ that it’s okay from somewhere beyond the atmosphere tingling just outside of space. His own mantra would play to CJ’s ears in response to his otherwise unanswered prayers, it’s okay to touch, it’s okay to kiss, it’s okay to want.

Unfortunately, CJ was right. Bryce was not God and CJ remained inconsolable every time the dam they built between friends and whatever waited for them on the opposite side exposed another crack. It wasn’t fair that God controlled how far they could move the sticks, an imaginary football field where He always had a home advantage and stayed on offense no matter what.

anddd like a said that one is published so if you would like to read this fic tap in here: ode to faith

on the topic of these two im currently working on another fic of them lol. it's essentially just them calling each other back and forth during the season & i wanted it to kind of follow the timeline of their actual season so now that theyre both over i'll finish it.. slight religious themes bc that's how i characterize them in my head (lol) but less of it than in the one i published and less angst too. here's a snippet of that one:

“You gone come down here and see me?”

Bryce couldn’t remember the last time CJ came to Carolina. Vague images of them courtside at a Hornets game passed him by, but whether it was home or away is lost on him. Something late about the statement presses him, “man, stop talking to me like I’m your girlfriend.”

CJ raises an eyebrow, “you not?”

Their routine, a carousel that never stops. CJ flirts because he thinks the hollowness behind his words is mutual. Since he’s straight. Or, at least not gay. Whatever God needs him to be. Bryce laughs, light and airy. He wishes his cheeks wouldn’t tint and his hands wouldn’t fidget.

and heres a passage i like from this same call (and probably the only other religious mention that'll be in this fic)

The protein shake on the counter was nearing room temperature, but Bryce knew he wouldn’t be drinking it tonight. He loved CJ in more ways than one, but sometimes interactions with him left Bryce feeling sick. Well, maybe not sick, but something akin to full-body exhaustion. The kind that covered him in the shower after an overtime game. The kind that creeped into his bed after spending a weekend with CJ pretending he wouldn’t defy God for him.

so yes...!!!

that one is nowhere near done... HOWEVER!! the fic i plan on publishing next is jahmyr gibbs & sam laporta from the lions LOL. i love finding new ships to write about & if i gotta be the first i'll be that idk 😭 this came about because me & my lovely friend casey (@aberfaeth) were talking abt which lions players we would ship & Yes there is nothing but what is true rpf if not blind delusion? right.

there is no plot or description just delusional lion fan vibes & these snippets that are, so far, the entire fic. 😭

"You don't get it," Jahmyr compiled his remaining thoughts into a coherent sentence.

"I don't get it because you’re not telling me," David mumbled.

Jahmyr pinched the bridge of his nose, “it builds chemistry, you know?”

“Build some chemistry with your barber. You need a retwist.”

i thought this was hilarious of me but this is just gibbs & monty talking about how he was going to date hangout with sammy... & later ⬇️

Jahmyr sat, anxiously, examining the food decorating the table. He eyed his milkshake, noting the way the condensation caused the wood to cave slightly. With his finger, he dips into the excess water and drags it across the table ignoring the sharp specks that could splinter him.

The sound of the wind picking up made him subconsciously sink deeper into his jacket as he turned his gaze to the window. Each second brought with it an eternity.

Monty was right. Sam probably thought this was a date.

He smiled, gesturing across the table, “I like your hair pulled up like that.”

And, well, Jahmyr all but blushed, redirecting his attention back towards the foam dissolving deeper within the border between whipped cream and the strawberry shake. His straw sat near the cup, close enough that the droplets had caused the wrapper to be nearly soaking wet.

It was a date, wasn’t it?

(and if you noticed the parallel between monty talking abt gibbs hair & sam complimenting it i did something right)

like i said that one will be finished next so lookout for it if youre interested!! 😛

& one more fic i'll share in this because it's underrated like these is caleb/rome but i dont have any snippet at all 😭 i do have this weak ass description

They meet on the flight to Detroit for the NFL Draft and have a one night stand (only because Rome doesn’t think the Bears are actually going to draft him).

so essentially Rome doesn't date anyone who he plays on a team with because he's scared of getting used to it and he knows that teams are a revolving door & he only sleeps with Caleb because he doesn't believe the mock drafts saying theyre both going to the Bears. sooo they hook up in Detroit before draft night and then they get drafted to the Bears & Rome freaks out. i want this one to be kinda long & but only go through preseason & training camp 😇

-

THANKS FOR CARING!!! these are most of the wips in my "underrated" ships vault. i have one (1) more ask that is gonna have my joemarr ideas since i know theyre big pussy capiche on here

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

take me to church | choi san

We’re back with another San work bc he’s hot and I love him. Genres: fluff, religious differences (but not like in an angst way, it’s really all fluff) Warnings: reader jokes about dying. Heavy discussion of religion, specifically Catholicism. Characters attend mass and confession. Brief sacrilege? Idk they kiss in a cathedral, so if you are Catholic and that’s offensive to you, probably don’t read this. San has unbelievable rizz (needs a warning) and is sometimes a bit suggestive.

“It took you long enough,” you tease, looking up from your book at the handsome young man holding two coffee cups and waiting for you to notice him. “You’ve been staring at me for a good long time.”

He grins at this. “Can I sit down?” he asks you, offering you one of the cups.

You take it and sip gingerly. “How did you know?” you ask him suspiciously.

“‘Apple cider with a shot of cinnamon and caramel syrup, warmed for one and a half minutes instead of two’,” he recites. “How long have we both been coming here?”

“Well, I’ve been coming here a month,” you tell him. “I don’t know how long it’s been for you.”

“It’s been a month for me as well,” he says. “The first time I saw you was my first time here.”

“Really?” you ask with an eyebrow raised. 

“Yeah, after that I just kind of decided it was my favorite,” he says, something wicked dancing in his eyes as he smiles at you. 

You shake your head with a scoff at the audacity of this man. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says. “They have good coffee too.” He leans back in his seat and takes a sip.

You size him up -- broad shoulders and a well-muscled chest under a white henley shirt and puffy jacket to protect against the wintery cold, square jaw, high cheekbones, those dangerous brown eyes, and black hair styled up and off his forehead in a swooping Clark Kent-esque style -- and the verdict is easy. Gorgeous. But for one thing, you’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing you feel that way. For another, you know his type. He has the air of the frat boys from college who threw ragers and took bets to see if they could get in your pants.

So you sip your drink again. “So, what’s your schtick? Tell me so we can stop wasting each other’s time.”

“Time spent enjoying yourself is never wasted,” he shoots back. “And I don’t have a schtick. I just want to get to know you better.” He seems unruffled by your aloofness, the hint of a smile still playing about his lips.

“There isn’t a lot to know,” you counter. 

“Everyone says that, but it’s never true,” he says. 

“How many other girls have you tried this approach on?” you ask him with narrowed eyes.

“Enough,” he allows with another smile. “Although this is the first time I’ve waited so long to make a move.”

“I’m flattered,” you deadpan. “Lost your nerve in your old age?”

“Maybe I learned the value of patience,” he says, undeterred. 

You weren’t expecting him to keep up with you for this long, so you simply look at him for a moment. “You got a name?” you finally ask, and his smile grows wider.

“Choi San,” he says. “You?”

“No,” you reply lightly.

For the first time, he looks taken aback. “No, like, you don’t have a name?”

“No like I’m not going to give it to you. Yet.” 

“Yet?” he complains. “Damn, you’re one tough cookie.”

“You have no idea,” you say. “Speaking of which, I have somewhere to be.”

“Let me join you,” he says immediately, standing as well. 

“Oh, as much fun as that would be, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” you tell him with a laugh, putting on your hat and coat and making for the exit of the coffee shop.

“Why not? Are you going to a doctor’s appointment or something?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply as you push open the door, shuddering against the cold air. “I have six months left to live.”

San’s eyes go wide before he realizes you’re messing with him. “You’re awful,” he chides, nearly running to keep up with your quick stride. 

“And you’re persistent,” you say over your shoulder. “Seriously, I’m not going anywhere fun. You should go back inside where it’s warm. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Are you worried about me?” he asks with a teasing smile.

“Extremely. You seem very unhinged.” But you’re laughing at the way he’s dodging the crowd of people on the sidewalk walking the opposite direction so that he can keep sight of you, and this seems to spur him on. Even as San apologizes to an elderly group of women for colliding with them, there’s a determination in his eyes that makes your heart beat quicker than is strictly necessary.

“Oh, I am,” San retorts. “I need someone to take care of me.”

“Call your mother.”

“I would, but she lives in Korea.”

“Call a friend. Do you have any of those?”

“I have plenty, but there’s a very specific cure for my ailment that none of them can provide.”

You stop in your tracks and he nearly runs into you. “What do you want from me?” you ask, half annoyed, half impressed at all the smooth-talking.

“Your name, first,” he says. “And then maybe a phone number. That’s all. I swear.”

You consider him, biting back the thought that he looks even handsomer than normal because of the cool air tinging his cheeks pink and the sunlight in his eyes. “Tell you what,” you say. “You make it through this, and we can talk.”

San’s eyes follow your finger to where you’re pointing -- at a towering cathedral ornately decorated with statues of staring saints. He looks at you with wide eyes. “You’re a church girl?”

“Decidedly so, yes,” you say. “You sit through one mass and I’ll give you my phone number.”

He still doesn’t seem to be worried about any of this. “If I do confession, can I have a date?” he asks hopefully.

“I think if you do make confession, we’ll be in there so long we won’t have time for a date,” you tell him with a roll of your eyes. “Now come on.”

He grins. “You already know me so well. Take me to church,” he says.

The other regulars in the congregation eye you and San with interest as San follows your lead, watching how you dip your fingers into the water at the entrance and then cross yourself. He tries, but ends up crossing himself the wrong way, and you have to stifle a giggle as the little old lady who sits up front gasps loudly. 

San looks at you in alarm. “What did I do wrong?” he asks.

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure him. “She just has a spiritual gift for seeing when someone is trying way too hard to get someone’s number.”

He shakes his head and follows you into a pew. “How long have you been Catholic?” he asks in a whisper.

“Officially, I’m not,” you say. “But I’ve been coming to mass for about a year, ever since my grandmother died. She used to come twice every week. It’s been…comforting. I feel closer to her this way.”

A light of understanding moves across his features. “I see,” he says. “That’s a good way to honor her.”

You are amazed at the sudden tears that threaten to spill over in your eyes. “And you? Are you religious at all?” you ask as a distraction.

“Not really,” he whispers. “I sang in a church choir once, but that’s about it.”

He notices how your eyes light up. “Do you sing, then?” you ask with interest.

“Yeah, a bit,” he admits. “Why? Is that a dealbreaker?”

You laugh quietly. “No, not at all. I just didn’t expect it.”

He shrugs. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

You roll your eyes again. “So do you believe in God?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly.

“Do you believe in anything?”

“I believe in plenty,” he replies. “Fate…love at first sight…”

“I’m being serious,” you insist. “I don’t know if I can see myself with someone who doesn’t have some kind of guiding principle that gives them integrity. It doesn’t have to be religion, but you have to have some kind of moral compass.” 

He thinks for a moment. “Well, I guess I believe that we should treat others well,” he starts.

“Why?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer right away — and you appreciate that he actually does seem to take the genuine questions you’re asking seriously. After a minute he replies, “I guess because I’ve personally found the highest level of satisfaction in my life when I’m in harmony with those around me. And that’s something I can control. I can’t stop others from disliking me or not sharing my opinions, but I can always treat them well regardless of those things, and we can coexist.”

The priest begins the processional just after San finishes talking, and so you don’t get to tell him how impressed you are with that answer. But you find yourself glancing over at him during the service, giggling softly when he repeats back to the priest later than everyone else, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks when he catches you staring and shoots back a subtle wink. 

And then when mass is over, and he leans over to you and you can smell the spicy-sweet scent of his shampoo, you have to catch your breath. “So, what now?” he asks with that same suggestive glint in his eyes.

“Now I need to go to confession,” you say firmly, although you can’t help a grin.

“I’ll come too,” he says, but you tug him down before he can fully stand up. 

“Hold your horses,” you say, and although you’re nervous in a way that makes you feel like your skin is on fire, you fix him with a stare, your expression serious. 

You take a breath. “Seriously, why me? I’m sure there are other pretty girls you’ve seen before, but it’s a little extreme to go to all this trouble.”

His smile softens. “You’re worried about my intentions?” he asks lightly, sliding across the bench to sit as close to you as he can.

“Shouldn’t I be? I mean, you’re a stranger who followed me into church,” you joke quietly. And you’re surprised to realize as you say it that even though he’s been persistent, you never felt unsafe. Indeed, you have the feeling that if you had ever seriously told him to get lost, he probably would’ve listened to you.

San seems to watch all these thoughts passing through your head, and he pulls one of your hands into both of his own. “Give me a shot,” he says softly. “If we’re talking about belief, let me tell you something else I believe in. I believe that sometimes you can get a sense about someone before you really talk to them. And this is going to sound crazy, but if there was such a thing as past lives, I’d be certain I knew you long before I saw you in that coffee shop.”

You draw in a shaky breath, your heart soaring in elation at this confession in spite of yourself. He’s playing with your fingers, his eyes flickering in the dim light of the church. And he looks so adorably nervous at the admission he’s just made that you can’t help but nod after only a second’s consideration. “Okay, Choi San. I’ll give you my phone number. A deal is a deal, after all.”

He hands you his phone. “For the record, mass was pretty interesting too,” he tells you.

You scoff. “Like you were paying attention at all,” you say as you type in your number, which you’ve saved under the name “church girl” with a black heart emoji.

“I might have been a bit distracted,” he allows, “but I do also like learning about things like this.” He takes his phone back from you and laughs at the contact name. “Wow, when do I get to know your name? At our wedding?”

“Maybe after our third kid, I’ll consider it,” you say dryly, standing up and tucking your jacket over one arm. “Now, I have some sins to confess.”

He stands up with you. “I’m coming too,” he says.

“Don’t you have everything you need?” you ask him with a grin, gesturing at the phone still in his hand. 

“Almost,” he says. “But I’ve done a lot of sinning in my life. Maybe I’ll have a religious epiphany if I talk to someone about it.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you in an anthropology class right now? Like, this has gotta be homework or something at this point.”

He laughs. “No, I am genuinely interested to know what confession is like,” he assures you. The both of you make your way to the confessional. “What do I say?” he whispers as you get close. 

“You start with crossing yourself,” you say, and you guide his hand in the correct motions. “Then you say ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.’”

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” he repeats. “Then what?”

“List your sins,” you say. “But don’t say all of them. He doesn’t have all night.”

“Okay,” he says in amusement. “Anything else?”

“At the end say ‘I’m sorry for this and all my sins’.”

“What if I’m not sorry?” he asks.

“Then say it anyway,” you say with a shrug.

“Isn’t that lying, though? Which is also a sin?” 

You have to bite back another laugh at his question. “I think you’re taking this a bit too seriously,” you say. “Maybe only confess the sins you feel sorry for if it offends you to lie to a priest.”

He nods. “Fair enough. Can you confess sins you haven’t done yet?” he asks, feigning innocence, but you know exactly what he means.

You snort, swatting his arm. “Um, that’s called the sale of indulgences, and the church stopped doing that in the 1500s I’m pretty sure.”

He tsks in disappointment. “Oh, well. I guess it was worth a shot. Do you want to go first? I’m sure you’re going to take a lot less time.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “I wouldn’t be so sure. There’s a lot that you don’t know about me, either.”

He shakes his head. “That was sexy,” he whispers after you as you move past him toward the confessional. 

You shush him. “Don’t say stuff like that in church. You’ll get struck by lightning.”

“That’s why I whispered it,” he says defensively.

“God can still hear you,” you say, giving him a little wave as you shut yourself in the booth.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you say, crossing yourself. “It’s been a week since my last confession.”

“Hey,” the priest says casually behind the grille. You recognize the voice of your favorite priest, Father Paul. 

“Hi, Father Paul,” you say.

“Doing missionary work, I see,” he says. 

“Huh?” you say. 

“The young man you brought with you today,” he says, a hint of humor in his voice. 

“Oh, that. Um, I didn’t bring him, he followed me,” you say. 

“He didn’t seem to bother you,” Father Paul observes. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much in church.”

You blush. “Are you gonna let me confess my sins, or what?”

“Fine,” says Father Paul, and you can hear the eye roll in his voice. “But next week you’d better have some more interesting sins for confession.”

“Father Paul!” you exclaim. “Isn't it a sin to encourage others in sinning?”

Father Paul gives a derisive laugh. “My child, I sit here in this booth for four hours twice a week and listen to people confess their problems with a spouse or disagreements with a neighbor. And now you come in here with a man who looks like that? Is it a greater sin to give in to the natural man, or to refuse to acknowledge a blessing when it comes?”

“This is a conversation I absolutely did not expect to have...ever, in any place, but definitely not here,” you say, your whole face redder than a tomato.

“Well, let me give you some revelation from beyond, then. If I were your grandmother, God rest her soul, I would tell you that seeing you alone for so long has been difficult for people who care about you. It may be time to let someone in.” He clears his throat. “Now, you may make your confession.”

Shaken, you do this quickly. Father Paul absolves you, and you clear out the booth. 

San is waiting right outside. “So, you’re forgiven,” he says, in the tone of someone observing the weather.

“Spic-and-span,” you say. “Your turn. You remember what to do?”

“I’ll figure it out,” he says, heading into the booth.

You head from the confessional into a tiny room where votive candles and a small statue of Mary Magdalene are kept, keeping the door open so that San will be able to see you after he leaves confession. You sit at the small bench, breathing deeply, trying to calm yourself. 

You aren’t used to being affected so much, but the man making what is certainly one of Father Paul’s more interesting confessions has upended everything normal in your life. You know what your grandmother would say -- “God likes to keep us on our toes.” “Well said, Granny,” you murmur to yourself, watching one of the flames flicker mesmerizingly in the otherwise dark room.

“Hey, Church Girl,” says a voice behind you. 

You jump and turn around. It’s San, standing there in the doorway watching you carefully. You stand, suddenly flustered. “Uh, hey. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he says, looking at you strangely. He steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. “You okay?”

“Yes,” you reply breathily. “Um, just thinking about my grandma.”

“Got it,” he says, empathy at the corners of his tone. He comes to stand beside you. “I’m sorry to have interrupted.”

You give him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, really. So, you didn’t take very long in confession.”

“Nah, I don’t regret very many of my sins,” he says easily. “Father Paul seems cool, though.”

“He introduced himself?” you ask, surprised.

“Yep,” he says. “He talked about you.”

“Oh, did he?” you ask nervously. “What did he say?”

“He told me to take care of you,” he says simply.

“And what did you tell him?” you ask suspiciously.

He hesitates. “My sins,” he says finally. “Which turn out to be my failings as a romantic partner. I just told him all the ways I was worried I’d disappoint you.” He gives a soft laugh, and you look him up and down, fixating on his hands. 

They’re shaking.

Before you can think, before you can talk yourself out of it, you grab him by the front of his coat and pin him against the wall closest to the door. And then you tell him your name before pressing your lips to his.

He catches your face in his hands as you do, the pads of his fingers slightly rough but warm against your cheek and jaw and the back of your neck. His lips on yours are hungry but gentle, and his hands pull you back whenever you try to come up for air. You have to clutch at him to stay upright as the room starts spinning, and he moves his arms to your waist to support you as he kisses you again and again and again, until your lips feel bruised and you can hardly remember anything but the feel of his skin under your fingertips.

Finally, you break apart, gasping for breath. San’s chest heaves against your own, and he leans his forehead to yours. “What was that for?” he asks breathlessly.

“That was the trade-off,” you say with a laugh. “Phone number for mass, kiss for confession.”

“For real? What do I get if I go every week?” he asks eagerly.

“I guess we’ll see,” you say, brushing a stray strand of hair off his forehead.

“I like the sound of that,” he says, his arms tightening around your waist.

You lean against him, letting your head rest on his chest. “Me too.”

[anarcho-puppy]

hiya! welcome to my blog! i mostly just rb or post for myself soooo... don't expect much in terms of consistency lol.

my pronouns are he/him/his, xe/xem/xers, or it/it's; if you misgender me on purpose, you will be blocked >:P

alive but gay

discord: anarcho_puppy

twitch: anarchopuppy084

steam: anarchopuppy084

youtube: anarchopuppy

i rb a lost of fandom stuff (basically just whatever media i'm currently hyperfixating on), but these are my favourite media:

DC (mostly batfam)

BBC Sherlock

Hannibal

ATLA (also kinda TLOK, but not as much)

Good Omens

OFMD

Marvel (debatable, not the new stuff, mostly just AOS)

Sense8

WWDITS

Jesus Christ Superstar (shut up, i’m a theatre kid)

The Last Days of Judas Iscariot (in relation to JCS)

The Dragon Prince

Amulet (i’m allowed to be a kid, okay)

Bluey (…very much allowed to be a kid)

HTTYD

ninjago

probs more, i just have a shit memory lmao

pls pls talk to me about my interests! send me asks!

just spent two hours organizing my blog so that i can actually find stuff... so here's a guide:

#puppy barks = og text posts, rants, etc. (basically just everything other than rbs, except threads i’ve added to and wanted to save)

#anarcho puppy (duh) = anarchist and an-com shit

#geo nerd puppy = history-related stuff (one of my SPINs)

#pub trans puppy = public transit-related stuff (another SPIN)

#puppy puppy = feral (sometimes) dog boy me

#poet puppy = started out as poetry but now it’s basically just me writing things

#arty puppy = my art and art rbs

#disabled puppy = disability stuff

#neurodivergent puppy = autism/ADHD shit

#nom nom puppy = baking/cooking/food stuff

#conlang puppy = conlang shit

#little puppy = agere/little me stuff

#faggot shit = uhm uhhhhh… yeah…

#mutual aid/gofundme = self explanatory (please donate or reblog!)

#my polls = polls (obviously /s)

#me = pics of me

#ask = my asks

#hehe = ...yeah i'm not doing so hot (memory loss, trauma, etc.)

#dc = self explanatory (#B, #NW, #RH, #RR, #R, #O, #steph, #cass, #duke, #alfred, #clark, #kon, #jon, #talia, #bernard)

#hozier = my MAN

#atla = avatar the last airbender (and spin-offs)

#sherlock = self explanatory

#tdp = the dragon prince

#hannibal = self explanatory

#go = good omens

#ninjago = self explanatory

#sense8 = self explanatory

#assortment of religious hyperfixations = jesus christ superstar, the last days of judas iscariot, etc.

#i’m gonna be a lawyer bitch = my latest hyperfixation; law, specifically landlord and tenant rights and responsibilities (an actually practical hyperfixation?? crazy… /s)

#covid safety = self explanatory and also really important

#musicposting = music shenanigans; maybe my music, maybe music i like, you never know

#live sound shit = mixing and the like

#L = iykyk

shut up, i know that there’s a shit tons of tags but it’s not for you; i don’t expect y’all to need a tagging system bc you’re probably not doing a deep dive on my blog, but i need to be able to find things, hence the excessive tagging system :)

DNI LIST:

zionist

racist

sexist

homophobic

transphobic

antisemetic

islamophobic

pedophile/"MAP"

self-described liberal

anti-communist

biden supporter

radqueers

transids/whatever the fuck you’re calling yourselves

etc.

yes, i know that dni lists won’t stop dirty, disgusting people from interacting, but it makes me feel better when i set clear boundaries.

and remember kids, i block LIBERALLY >:P

[lilac-honey]

WIP intro: saints and pearls

genre: litfic, coming of age

pov: 1st person retrospective

setting: very very small valley town in southern bc. (i hear you. ur saying “but you’ve never been to canada !!!” no. you’re right. but i feel its Vibes within me). it’s an isolated, fundamentalist christian sect founded by a prophet in the 60s who claimed to be the living word of god, succeeded by his son. the year is between 2013-16, i sense.

themes/aesthetics: god, divinity & power, devotion & worship, girlhood & motherhood, innocence, sin & corruption, desire & temptation, resurrection & rebirth, truth, lies & false prophecy. identical grey houses, the sun setting through a wire fence, girls in white dresses cycling down an empty road, mountains in the distance dusted with snow, a town with no traffic lights, screaming and hearing no echo back.

cws: christian fundamentalism, cult, deeply patriarchal society, death, implied murder, disappearance / missing person, children in implied danger.

logline: when her mother vanishes, fifteen-year-old opal returns to live with her father in the isolated religious sect she grew up in. as she tries to find the truth about her mother’s disappearance, she becomes entangled in a sinister love affair with her father’s young new wife & the struggle to succeed the sect’s ageing prophet.

literal logline: opal’s reputation era takes an unexpected turn when she comes up against siblings as weird about god as she is

synopsis & characters under the cut <3

synopsis:

When her mother disappears, fifteen-year-old Opal chooses to return to the isolated sect she and her mother fled two years prior. But when she returns to Virtue, things have changed. Her father, Franklin, has remarried to a young new convert: the alluring, saintly Neeve, whom Opal is irresistibly drawn to. What’s more, the mounting health problems of the sect’s ageing prophet are set to kickstart the race to replace him in earnest at any moment.

The family are intent on ensuring Franklin’s accession as the next prophet, and Opal suspects they know more about her mother’s disappearance than they’re telling her. There’s a simple solution: gain Neeve’s trust and use her to find out what the family are hiding—yet Neeve’s magnetic zealotry only pulls Opal in closer, and their intoxicating relationship threatens to derail Opal’s quest to expose the truth.

Meanwhile, Opal’s rebellious flirtation with Warren, Neeve’s cunning older brother and Franklin’s main rival for the prophethood, opens the door to escape from her family’s control—and the opportunity for long-awaited revenge against the man and church who terrorised her childhood.

As Opal becomes entangled in the struggle to become Virtue’s final prophet—a deadly web of plots, fanaticism, and false prophecy—she draws closer to uncovering the dark secrets she’s sought all along about her family and community. But, with disaster edging ever-closer, Opal must confront the truth about herself, and her own hunger for power: is she really any different from the people she seeks to destroy?

this is not my Best Work unfortunately bc it does not accurately capture the goals, conflict and stakes but i will not be rewriting it again actually ! sorry ! i have suffered enough !

characters:

there are too many … more than listed here and that was not my intention

opal lauritzen

15/16, narrating the story probably in her 20s although unspecified.

delighted to unveil my very own unhinged teenage girl protagonist

she’s a little bit Scary !!

morally challenged, if you will

homosexually charged rivalry with neeve

fundamentally on a silly little mission to be adored & worshipped but she’s taken on a side quest (finding out who killed her mother)

she’s so remember my name by mitski coded. she needs someone to remember her name, something bigger than the sky…how many stars will she need to hang around her before she can finally be all done, somewhere like heaven?

everyone is a means to an end for her, apart from her adopted sister, runa (aged six), her bestie. can’t hate a child.

neeve lauritzen/sloane

17/18

neeve is playing chess while everyone else plays chequers

vegetarian (this is very important to her character like … after everything eating meat is still where she draws her moral lines in the sand. and i respect that!)

actually not as evil as opal thinks she is in the beginning. she does actually want to be friends.

she plans to name her baby cinnamon or cherry or similar. maybe moon. she’s silly and goofy like that

she’s fighting demons (comphet) and losing

alicent hightower … is that you ???

warren sloane

20/21

looks so much like austin abrams in my head

if neeve is playing chess … warren is playing monopoly

Charismatic Leader. manipulation is his thing

he’s mastered the female gaze but in a bad way

college dropout for sure. that stem major was so hard he became a creationist and joined a cult

franklin lauritzen

early 40s

opal’s father

a villainous little villain if ever there was one

wants to be the next prophet-leader So Badly it’s kind of embarrassing xx

he’s like low-key an incel he really hates to see women succeed

truly needs to get a life outside of terrorising teenage girls

runa caraway

6

opal’s adopted sister and also biological cousin

really need to develop her as a character but she’s basically an infant

fundamentally she reminds opal of her childhood self, creating Guilt and Conflict

asa and calvin lauritzen

20ish & 17ish

opal’s older brothers

they really Really hate each other xx

accidentally set them up as cain and abel so i’m now going to have to follow through on that foreshadowing

father paul

late 20s

token outside world character

this random catholic priest who becomes very concerned about opal after her mother goes missing

he wants to Fix opal and she knows this and very much enjoys pretending to be a damsel in distress around him

not really sure what purpose he serves in the story apart from a nice scene in a church (with candles !!) in chapter one

he gives her his number so i think she’s going to call him every now and then for a pep-talk

i think he’s going to try to stage an intervention for her later actually

betsy

15ish

opal’s slightly unhinged school friend

true crime girlie

i can’t explain her she’s best seen in action

like when opal and runa come to stay with her family when annora disappears she’s like .. exciting !!!! do u guys want to see my if i go missing folder !!!!! let me get all the true crime twitter girlies On to this !!!!

i might make her detective dreams come true later in the story so stay tuned xx

lux

15ish

opal’s childhood best friend in virtue

now betrothed to asa, opal’s oldest brother

retired from golden sunshine new career in false prophecy

newest addition to the cast but the story holds terrible things for her i fear

ask to be added to the taglist <33

[francis-writes]

heyy! i saw you wrote something for silas from the da vinci code a while ago and just in case you’re still writing for him i’d like to request a nsfw alphabet for him! tysm for the headcanons for him in general🫶🏻

Finally, a man of culture.

Also, if you want, on my old blog I wrote SFW Alphabet, Random dating headcanons and I have a x OC story with him (never finished, but there's about 14 chapters and some smut)

NSFW ALPHABET FOR SILAS

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He likes to be cuddled. He is a little spoon and he wants your arms around him and your fingers ruffling his hair. The experience was great but he really enjoys affection and reassurance that you love him.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For so much time he was shamed and rejected for his body, that Silas can't honestly say that he likes any part of it. But if he had to choose, he would probably say hands. For how strong they are and how much he can do with them.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… )

I don't wanna push agenda but, y'know, catholicism is one big breeding kink. He likes to cum inside you, it makes you feel closer. But he makes you keep menstruation calendar; or with reluctance he agrees to you taking The pills; bc you know, it's a SIN. But after all, he would accept anticonteption to make sure you don't get pregnant. Even if he leaves Opus Dei, he doesn't see himself as a father.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

You are his dirty secret. For long time he keeps a relationship with you a secret, even when you didn't sleep with each other yet.

E= Experience

Silas has some experience with women from the times before he went to jail. he isn't completely clueless and has some basic knowledge about woman's body but he's also kind of lost and uneducated in these topics.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying)

As I mentioned, missionary or simply any position where he can look at your face.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

Silas is deadly serious in almost any situation but maybe with you, he slowly learns to relax and smiles more often. Still, during sex he's mostly focused and serious.

H=Hair

He's not paying any attention to it but he barely has any hair there anyway.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He's not a specialist in romantic game, but he does his best to make you feel good and loved. He kisses you and often asks if you're okay

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He practically never does it, if he wants some sin, he just goes to you.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He has a thing for BDSM. Usually he dominates you, chokes you, hits you, pins you to the bed, spits at you etc

But there's also a masochist in him. It takes some time, working through his traumas, before he lets you dominate him but eventually he enjoys when you "punish him for his sins"

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Your bed. Just somewhere private where Silas feels comfortable. He wants to keep your intimate life as far from other people as possible.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

I'll be boring, but you. You teasing him, your body, your touch, your laugh. After years of taming his needs, he's like a can of gasoline, so easy to set ablaze.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

As much as I love blasphemy, unfortunately Silas wouldn't allow any "religious play" in bed, like reading Bible out loud when you suck him off, or using rosaries/crosses for masturbation. He may abandoned vow of celibacy but he's still very religious and would send you to hell for such heresy.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He's not a big fan of oral. I mean, he enjoys receiving it but he prefers to have better access to your body.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the moment, but usually more slow.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

No. He needs to take his time with you. He would rather wait longer for a proper sex, than take you in hurry, without moment to focus on your body.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

You can ask him and he will consider, but most of the time Silas avoids trying new and unusual things. If you want to spice things up, you need to have patience. For now, the biggest risk is breaking the vow of chastity.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He's a strong man but your sessions are usually very passionate and tiring so maximum 2 rounds before he needs to rest.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Now excuse me, but he was raised catholic. And to be serious: no, he doesn't change his habits that much.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can't wait tease, I am sorry. He didn't learn much in the art of sex. But when it's you teasing him, he usually either closes up and pretends it doesn't work on him or he takes you to the bed in 0.1 second.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He does his best to stay quiet, but he can't hold back gasps and moans.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

It isn't always sexual, sometimes it's simple form of intimacy but he loves when you kiss his wounds. On the back, from self-flagellation. And on his thighs, from cilice (ok, kisses in this place usually make him want more)

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

If I remember well, Silas is canonically hulky and well build, so his dick is probably massive as well, average length but thick.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Average. He likes sex but years of chastity teached him patience and ignoring carnal needs. So... he desires you but he doesn't have a big need for physical contact and he usually waits until you initiate something (until you start teasing him and drive him mad, he doesn't know what to do with himself so he looks for the nearest bed)

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Usually very quickly. A few minutes and he's snoring. Turns out sex is more tiring than killing heretics.

[wrongcaitlyn]

Hello! just wanted to say that i really don’t mean to make you uncomfortable at all with this ask since i know you’re sex repulsed ace but i swear i don’t mean it in that way. as in in the sex way. it’s more as in the overcoming religious trauma and being proud of ones sexuality way!

picture this : nico di angelo. he’s at the Grammys. he’s just released guilty as sin? and everyone’s going absolutely bonkers bannanas. he’s walking the little carpet (added detail he is wearing the dress taylor wore at the show announcing ttpd). he sees a reporter and smiles at them and there recording and being like “omg nico is love your new song aaaa!” and nico just deadpan stares at them as he slowly walks by and lifts up the slit in his dress just a tiny bit and boom tattoo that says mine. ON HIS UPPER THIGH?!? 😨😨😨😨 he sets his dress back down winks and walks away like nothing ever happened. the reporter ( a gen z) puts it on tiktok with the caption “NICO WTF?!” CROWD GOES WILLLDDDD PEOPLE ARE GOING INSANE NICO THAT NICO HAS A TATTOO AND ITS ESPECIALLY MINE ON HIS UPPER THIGH LIKE IN THE SONG WHEN DID HE GET THIS WHAT THE FUCK?!?!? and everyone assumes it’s just so sexual when in reality it’s sexual in the way that the guilty as sin bridge is sexual. yes it’s based around sexuality but more the acceptance that he is allowed to feel those feelings towards someone especially another man. it’s a celebration of how far he’s come from that little scared christian boy who thought he was dirty and wrong to now and something that he can look down at and be happy from how far he’s come. (also nico had to train will for a few days so that his barely legible doctors handwriting at least looked nice enough to be readable) (also will made the haha so many couples break up after they get tattoos comment when nico was getting it and he was like “will if you ever even try to leave me the entire universe will be destroyed and that includes you” and he’s like “well i wouldn’t leave you anyways but remind me from time to time it’s funny.” “yeppers peppers” (also hc that nico says incredibly silly phrases cause he picked some of them up from will but some of them are his)

anyways sorry about this very specific scenario! you do not have to respond to this if you don’t want to since there isn’t much to say and i know you must be busy with a ton of asks haha. just wanted to share one of the scenes i imagine happening in tyt in the FARRR future! Might low key write a fic about it if i ever figure out how to write if that would be okay with you!

have a good day! :)

KSDJFSD NO BC ppl's reactions to his tattoos (though, tbf, they're mostly grief-related tattoos) has been something i've been thinking about for agesss and will probably include at some point.

so many little details in this that i LOVEEJSDF nico training will's doctor handwriting😭😭 i actually plan to add a tattoo at some point of will + all of the rest of nico's found family drawing stars and then having like a collection of them on his chest, which i will definitely be including at some point, and i can just imagine nico trying to teach will how to draw a star (he draws them like taylor swift's "stars, do u like dem" drawing)

but on to the main point: i absolutely love this idea! though i'm not planning on guilty as sin actually being a song that nico releases (unfortunately ://) he will 100% be making moves with his music that displays his growth as a person and his increased comfort with himself in all forms!!

the silly phrases hc is wonderful. CANON NOW. i also especially like nico also looking up like old-timey phrases and then just using them for no reason other than to confuse his friends

AND THE CIWYW NECKLACE!!!! will already has nico's ring on his necklace, but i think nico would 100% get either a necklace with a sun on it to represent will (maybe personalized to have the same design that he has as his tattoo) or his initials, or both. the ciwyw necklace will always be peak romance though <33

i would 100% support writing the fic!! go for it!! even if it may not be compliant with the.. idk if it's called the canon of this fic, but you get what i mean, i'd just love any kind of work related to the au, so definitely let me know if you ever end up writing it!!! thank you for this!

[lemonynuggets]

Hey lemon dude, for some reason lemon reminds me of spaghetti. Im calling u spaghetti man by now, just cause yes.

So, spaghetti man, what r your favorite books? Have u read any good ones this year or in the last one? Do u got any recomds in ur back pocket to give to the poor < someone that needs something to read, im the poor

fascinating thought process anon…

this post got too long so I’m putting it under the cut augh

Ok um to be completely honest I spent the entire year re-reading PJO/HOO and started TOA and the only books I read that weren’t riordanverse related were the seven husbands of Evelyn Hugo, doll bones and the little book of angels (and if comics/manga count: I re-read most of JSHK besides following the new chapters/reading the spin-off and got the OSNF part 1 comic and I’m almost done reading it!!)

I grew up reading PJO/HOO and for many reasons this series is really special to me so it’s definitely among my favorites (Ironically my favorite book from each are the fourth books), I started re-reading it last year and made three of my friends start reading it solely because I was so normal about it… idk what kind of book you’re into but I’d recommend it!! Each series has 5 books and are really fun and easy to read <3

on the other books:

the seven husbands of Evelyn Hugo was surprisingly good?? I was skeptical bc it isn’t the kind of book I usually read (I got it on my birthday) but as the book progressed I got more and more invested, anything I could say about it would be spoilers though

Doll bones was fun!! It’s very short but the story was interesting and I liked the characters, I don’t have much to say about it besides I enjoyed it

I bought the little book of angels for research reasons, I’m not religious but I like studying religious elements, specially angels, and I’m writing a story about angels and referencing things like the christian angel hierarchy so I thought the book could help me with references for that!! There wasn’t much stuff I didn’t know already there and a lot of the information was opposing (I forgot the word), it has pretty pictures though :)

Other books I remember enjoying (my memory is. Bad) are this was our pact (a really cute comic!! The story is cool and the art is so pretty), Luna Clara & Apolo onze (a Brazilian book with an interesting premise and a fun writing style), the 39 clues (very fun series, I read it around the same time I read PJO for the first time and I remember loving it so much…) and they both die at the end (made me cry)

And for JSHK and the OSNF book… you probably noticed I’m insane about jshk just by looking at my profile and I’ve mentioned several times ordem paranormal is my special interest and osnf specifically is my favorite season so I could spend hours talking about both of these but I’ll try to make it quick:

Jibaku Shounen Hanako-Kun is BEAUTIFUL, the story is really cool all of the characters are super interesting, the art is just. Gorgeous. It makes me sooo normal augh… I’ve been reading jshk since? Around 2019? I have a hard time with numbers, but yeah I am incredibly normal about it, here’s my collection and tiny Hanako to prove it

I have all the volumes that are out in Brazil plus both spin-off volumes and volume 0 and volume 9 in english + the tiny Hanako is the only jshk thing I’ve ever found in a con because I don’t have the money to buy actual merch and surprisingly jshk is not that known in Brazil

And o segredo na floresta part 1!!! I sold my soul for that book. I went to the book store to get ashk volume 2 and when I was going to pay I saw the osnf book and I had to stop there for like 2 minutes, put the ashk volume back in the shelf and wait in the book store for my mom so I could make a deal with her and ask for it because it was EXPENSIVE…

I am on the process of feeling the consequences of the deal we made but I GOT THE BOOK and gods I was so excited that day that I couldn’t even read it, I just paced around and waited to read it on the weekend

since I’m also re-watching osnf right now I can say they made a lot of big changes on the story, but it’s still really good!! The art is great and the past/future/now pages are SO CRUEL AUGHH they did NOT have to do that to me…. -100000 psychological damage everytime I read a new page…. Cellbit, Yabu and Akila when I catch you…

WELL THIS IS A BIG POST, sorry anon I tend to talk a lot…

I hope you find something to read!!! Yayy reading is so cool I love reading

[gaybd1]

personal ask…what’s your social security number

when did you realize you were a trans man? i think i saw you mention that you identified as enby at some point. what really solidified that distinction for you? if you’re comfortable sharing <3

SSN lmao that’s the literal only thing I wouldn’t reveal on here but also if someone wants to steal it go ahead, I’ll probably never use it lol

and I’m totally comfortable sharing but I don’t know how to keep it from turning into a long rambley story lol

okay yeah but I like to say I’ve known I was trans my whole life because looking back it WAS so obvious and I really did identify and voice the feelings young BUT there wasn’t a word for it at the time and I got so much pushback from my mom (who didn’t know any better… right?) so. Basically I lived as a secret boy in my own head until puberty and most strangers thought I was one lol with the exception of like some of the girly shit my mom bought me and the hair she wouldn’t let me cut above my ears but hey boys had hair like that too back then I guess

lol anyway

By the time I first heard and looked up the word transgender when I was 14 I immediately knew it described me but I was also WAY into the Evangelical Indoctrination by then and Repressed so hard. I THREW myself into being a girl but tbh looking back at old pictures it just looked like I was in drag the whole time lmfao

ANYWAY when I got to college and more removed from the Uber-religious environment I was like “okay I’ll let myself be nonbinary because it’s like a compromise and I can’t go to hell for that right???” and I DID feel happier but still Not Enough. And they/them pronouns felt just as wrong as she/her

Then I fell back into capital-R-Religion for a few more years, harder than ever, bc I was clearly overcompensating lol and just looking for ANY way to fix this unhappiness…

Then I was in a… nonbinary lesbian relationship?? which was SUPER uncomfortable on account of lesbian traditionally means woman attracted to woman and I was low key neither (as in love as I was)

Long story short I guess it eventually got too much for me because I had a breakdown one random night after I got dumped by that person and it just suddenly came to me like “FUCK I AM a boy” and I basically just started like living as one immediately the next day (the internalized transphobia took a lot longer to go away obvs but yeah)

[a-very-fond-farewell]

hello!!! i hope i'm not too late to ask about your original fiction wips!!! would love to hear more about them if you're comfortable with sharing 6: their titles are so suave!

ah! you do know how to prod where it hurts most xD (affectionate)! thank you for asking dear, you’re not too late at all! and also thank you for all the kind comments/tags/etc. that you sprinkled throughout my notifications today :D they really made my Saturday more bearable and I hope you are doing well yourself!

(more under the cut)

.

so. it’s not my first rodeo. I have written original fiction in the past but I was always unsatisfied with it and these 2 bad bois are no exception even if they are in their planning/draft phase.

mária of the moon (the ‘seas’ of the moon) is too personal for me to delineate in detail, bc it should be set in a city where I used to live in for a while so I can’t be too specific about that. but it’s basically the story of an unnamed and lonely narrator who steals someone else’s identity in order to be welcomed inside someone else’s home, where their weird little found family comes in. it’s inspired by a curious incident my mother told me about once or twice and, even if it will not be based on it specifically, it got me thinking for a long while.

the title is a play on words with the name Maria, but in the ‘maria’ of the title the accent is placed on the first syllable rather than the second one, as if to imply that sometimes a shift in perspective is needed in order to move on with the plot. it’s also a reference to a literary trope in my country’s history that traces back to the renaissance, where it’s believed that lost things happen to land on the moon somehow. since the majority of the lunar seas are gathered on the visible side of the moon, it may be appropriate to wonder if someone named Maria has gone missing and if they have, have they landed on the moon? or maybe their name has?

it’s a story about gender identity and grief, about lies and new families too. but also, somehow, about lobsters. and sculptures. angels and taxidermy. hallucinations and burnout. there’s magical realism and insanity. it’s a lot. I’ve mapped the plot in its entirety but I feel like I’m never alone and this kind of work requires a lot of self-isolation, I think, something I can’t afford right now and possibly wouldn’t handle too well if I really think about it. also, idk in which language I should write it: my native language or English. which is a problem bc I’m tempted to write both versions myself, but that requires even more time and I simply don’t have that right now.

Secular Games is far more difficult to approach. it’s something I came up with a couple of years ago while studying for an Ancient Roman History exam, in order to remember some dates, but now it’s mapped out and sometimes I still think about it xD

it’s set in 17BC and it’s the story of a legitimate (fictional) child of emperor Augustus with his first wife Claudia. in reality, the marriage has probably never been consummated and Claudia was very young at the time of their union. but in this scenario the marriage did result in an offspring even if Claudia was sent back to her family in the end, so that Augustus (then known as Octavian) could marry someone else. there are other circumstances surrounding Claudia’s family that explain the situation a bit better, but in the context of this project her child would grow not knowing of their true lieneage until something very dramatic happens to them and they swear revenge towards the man who caused so much suffering to them and their young mother by sending her back home long ago.

the main plot would then proceed to be framed by the Secular Games, a religious celebration that (through 3 days of sacrifices and games) allowed the entire population of Rome to celebrate the coming of a new era every 110 years or so. one of such celebrations was held in 17BC. our protagonist would find themselves traveling to Rome in order to get their revenge, but in order to do so they have to disguise themselves and join a group of misfits to reach their destination. each person has their agenda and reason to be there at that particular time, all coming from different social levels and whatnot, and even if the main focus of their adventure will see its climax in those fated 3 days.. I want their bond to be established in their journey to the capital somehow.

problem for this project being: I need a ton of research. like. a TON. it would not be 100% historically accurate, but I still want to do a somewhat decent job. language is also an issue here, bc i don’t think writing in English is the right way to approach this ambitious project. the main issue is.. this is a very immersive work. I need to eat and breath nothing but ancient Roman history for, possibly, 2 years for this to come to light. which is not ideal. maybe I’ll come back to it, maybe I’ll drop it, but for now I call dibs on this xD

.

thank you so much for your ask :D I hope you have a lovely weekend! see u soon :)

[please do not reblog or share]

[depressopax]

From ABQ with love, Nacho

Chapter 1

This is the first chapter of my LCDP x BCS AU/Nacho spin-off. More info can be found here! || AO3 link

Chapter summary: After being saved by "The fancy son of a bitch", his travel from Albuquerque, to an unknown destination begins. But who is the man really? Why did he save Nacho? And where are they headed? Words: 1.8k TW: Drugs/drugging, cuss words, blood [Might be a bit OOC, bare with me] English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3

I don’t know where he’s taking me, the man who introduced himself as “Berlin” - But I choose to remain to calling him “The fancy son of a bitch”

But I don’t dare to ask him. Whether I like it or not - He saved my ass. 

So when he threatens to kill me if I try escaping, when he drugs me into obedience, when he drives me through the country, and when we sit down at the airport and then on the plane - I don’t make a sound. 

Plane I haven’t been on a plane since I was a kid. 

Me and dad only went on trips a couple of times. 

We didn’t grow up poor - and my childhood was happy. 

My dad was a single parent and had his own company, so it was up to him to make sure his son was well fed. 

He did a good job, my dad. But I had the tendency to get myself into trouble.

It was a combination of the adrenaline junkie within me, the people I made friends with, and the economical situation me and dad had. 

It started with Domingo and Tuco - and escalated into the Salamancas and the cartel. 

Dad is an honorable man. In the fog of my mind, I see his face. I remember us on that airplane once, when I went on my first vacation. I was so excited, and he smiled at me. 

It hurts. It fucking hurts. 

He probably thinks I’m dead. In some ways, I am indeed dead. 

Did Mike keep his promise? Is my dad safe? 

I’m not religious but still I pray to all Gods possible that he gets out safely. 

I hate myself for putting him in danger. I hate myself for my choices. 

And I hate the fancy son of a bitch next to me. 

We fly first class. 

He’s a rich fuck, too. He looks unfazed, where he sits reading a book and drinking what I can only guess is alcohol. 

Drinking in the light of the day, on a plane? Seriously? 

The rich son of a bitch who calls himself “Berlin” looks at me. I must have been staring. If looks could kill, he’d drop dead now. 

“I would offer you a scotch, but you’re high.” he chuckles and I grunt in reply. I turn my head to not see his smug face. My situation is confusing and humiliating enough. He continues talking to me, but I’m not listening. 

Somehow, he reminds me of Lalo.

The way he talks, his confidence and that sick, twisted personality. They’d make good friends. I manage to laugh and surprise both him and myself. 

“Where… We headed…” I manage to spit out. Literally tho. I don’t know what kind of drugs I’m on, but it's difficult to open and close my mouth. I’m probably drooling. And he probably finds joy in seeing people like that. 

“Spain. But to which town I can’t let you know.” 

Spain… 

“Why?” 

“Because I’m ordered to bring you there. A friend of mine has an offer for you. And you’re a damn stupid brat if you don’t agree. Besides, this little trip cost me a fortune. Imagine all the fancy wines I could’ve brought, instead of picking up some depressed, bald cartel man.” 

Suddenly I’m happy to be drugged. The fancy son of a bitch should be too. I’d slap his smug face bloody if I could. 

I don’t give a fuck that he “saved” me. I don’t care if we’re on a plane. I’d ruin him. 

“Fuck you.” I whisper.

He glances at me, up and down. I must look ridiculous with sweaty, dirty clothes, wounds and bruises on my face. That, with the dark circles marking my dark eyes, combined with how affected I must look from the drugs, with half open mouth and eyes. He definitely notices, because his next words are:

“I have no idea what the Professor saw in you.” 

The Professor? I choke back a laugh. Berlin. The professor. What the fuck is this? 

“You should’ve let me die.” 

Silence.

“Yes. Yes I should have, huh?” He puts the book down and stares blankly at me. “I’ll get some sleep. Ima have to drug you again, so you don’t try suffocating me with a pillow.” 

“Yea. Because I’d definitely try to escape when we’re on a damn plane.” My voice is coated with sarcasm and the fancy son of a bitch laughs. When he hands me a pill, I don’t have the energy, nor willpower to disagree. I swallow it down with water and soon my brain is fogged up again and I enter a world of dreams. 

I remember my dad’s worry. I had just joined the cartel and for the first time in my life, I was beaten bloody. My face was swollen and I was limping when I sunk down outside his door. 

“Hijo?” a tired voice said. His face twisted to concern, to anger and then fright. Having to explain what had happened to him was not easy. His worry was not the worst. It was the disappointment in his eyes. 

“Sorry.” I mumbled. “I got this under control, ok?”

What a lie. 

The next day is the same: Airplanes and cars - in the company of what I’m now sure is a sociopath. He talks to me as if we were friends. He mocks me like he hates me, and he asks me questions like he was a cop and I was a suspect. I can’t figure him out. At all. 

When we finally arrive at an old house in the dead of night, I’m finally free from those damn pills, and I get to eat some real food. I even get my own room. That night, I slept like I’ve never slept before. 

The wardrobe in “my room” has some simple t-shirts and jeans, a pair of sweatpants, a hoodie, and even some work-out clothes. 

I should feel relieved but I’m anxious. It feels like danger creeps over me. Is this some sort of sick joke? Is “Berlin” part of the cartel too? I don’t know. At least the door to the room is open. The house is dark and dusty. If someone actually lives here, they must be a disruptive person. I walk the house mindlessly. I find a kitchen, dining room, bathrooms and like 8 more bedrooms. There’s even an attic.

Curiosity takes over and I climb the stairs up. 

I walk into… A classroom…?

Yes. A classroom. 

A blackboard, a desk with pens and papers… A line of small tables and chairs, exactly like the ones I used to sit by when I was young and in school. 

One word is written with white chalk on the board: ¡Bienvenido! It says. 

“Hello.” I flinch and by instinct reach for the gun I don't carry anymore. 

Not because this man looks like a threat either ways. 

The thin, bearded man seems to be my age, with dark, thick glasses, wavy hair and a dark suit. Everything he’s wearing is dark. As dark as the house. He doesn’t look like a snob. The suit looks as old and vintage as the interior of the house. Must be he who owns the residence. He almost looks like a…

“Professor.” I mumble. The man smiles and looks nervous.

“That’s right. You may call me ‘The Professor’”

No thank you. Is what I don’t say. I just stare at him, as if he just told me a joke that wasn’t funny. 

“Ignacio…” he sighs and pulls out a chair. He takes a seat and looks at me. I should hate him. But I can't. Not yet, either ways. “...I’m sorry about your trip here. Berlin can be… Intense.”

“He’s a sociopath.” I correct him with a hiss. 

“...Whatever you want to call him. Do you know why you’re here, Mr. Varga?” 

Mr. Varga. I’m starting to think this man is older than he seems.

“No.” 

“It’s because I have a plan. And I need you for it to work.”

“What? You needed to bring me all the way from Albuquerque and to… Wherever the hell we are, for it?”  

“In Toledo. And yes. I needed to.”

“How’d you find me? And why?” I start to feel annoyed, but mostly because I’m so calm. I’ve totally lost my mind. I shouldn’t even hear this man out. Still, I want to. I need to understand my own situation. 

“You were in a dark place, Ignacio. But in the darkness there's light. There’s this man that told me about you. He told me about your situation, about your skills and past. You’re a great asset to my team.”

“Who?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“To me it does!” 

The Professor starts looking annoyed now too. 

“Can I please talk?” The way he’s talking makes me feel like a kid. It’s like getting lectured and I hate it. So I sigh and seal my lips.

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” he adjusts the thick glasses. “Like I was saying; You’re a great asset to my team. You have been in the cartel, you know how to handle weapons and I’m guessing you’re good when it comes to money?”

“What the fuck is this?” I stand up. I’m starting to lose my patience with this shit, hell, I lost it the second I got here. 

I walk up to him, threatingly. It seems to work. Of course.

“Manuel Varga. He’s alive and well.” 

I want to kill him for talking about my father. But I also want to cry and thank him for saving my father. 

“How do you…” 

“I promise to hand you proof of his safety, if you promise to hear me out.” 

The Professor sounds stern. Yea. His nickname definitely makes sense now. I sit down again. Finally, the bearded man starts talking.

“This week, you’ll meet your new crew of eight other criminals. You - and Berlin, are the first to arrive. These people shall be your new “family”. You’ll eat together, live together and get to know each other - build up trust and grow strong - together.” 

He goes quiet. 

“Okay…?” I say, my eyebrows furrowing. 

“And then… In five months from now… We’ll rob the Royal Mint of Spain.” 

I’m startled. Shocked. Then I laugh. This is a sick joke. Of course. My laughter dies out. The man stares blankly at me. Oh God. He’s being serious. 

“...That’s impossible.”

“Difficult, yes. But not impossible, Ignacio.” 

We stare each other down. After a while, I shake my head.

“How?” 

He smiles at me. A cocky smile, this time. For the first time, I actually see more in him - besides a four-eyed lunatic. Maybe, just maybe…

“I have a plan.”

[petewentzisblack1312]

hey dils! you’ve mentioned that when you arent listening to fall out boy, you’re most likely listening to punk (specifically black punk) — can I ask what drew you to fall out boy, then? was it the band’s background in the hardcore/punk scene? was it something else?

im always really fascinated to learn what draws someone to a particular type of music or artist!!

(for me, it’s probably how patrick layers his vocal harmonies. there is something really striking about the choral aspects of fob’s work (ioh especially), probably bc I grew up in the religious south).

hi!! so i actually got into punk music through fob and narrowed my attention on black punk becaaause i got tired of hearing white people sing fuck the police. fall out boy was my first foray into alternative music! actually ive told this story before but i saw a picture of an emo guy when i was like 6 or something and was like I Am Never Getting Into Rock Music Ever What The Fuck Thats Scary and then i got into fall out boy and did an art project where i had to draw peoples eyes and i googled pete wentz and i found the picture. bc it was pete wentz. full circle.

what really got my attention was the music, the first song that got me into them was immortals bc i heard it in big hero 6 and i thought it sounded so good and there was a quality to it that was really appealing to me, it sounded so unique to anything id ever heard before, and i listened to the rest of the album (on shuffle) and realised that was the fall out boy ness of it all. and then i listened to srar on shuffle, and then i listened to folie on shuffle and disloyal order came on and i was like wtf is this on shuffle why did the first song play and i was about to hit shuffle again and then. the organs. and i understood what music could be in the moment i heard patricks voice crooning over the organs and the lyrics clear as day, clear as crystal, clear as the voice of god in a mad mans head, i knew this was my kind of music. and no other band has ever done what fall out boy has done for me. paramore also sounds very unique though i have to give them credit they also sound good as hell. but i prefer fob. fob lyrics are a huge draw for me too! they both work in tandem for me.

and THEN. i found pax am days. and i found out i like my music hard fast and sloppy. and i got into punk music! i really like political music, and punk music does that for me. also sometimes i wish fob songs were faster and i realised its because i am a hardcore punk rock girlie.

anyway if i had to be specific about what i like about fall out boy, its the arrangements! the music has a lot of moving parts, and the lyrics are sung intentionally. thank you for the question i needed a distraction.

[piastrinorris]

thank you for the tag @iero! 💜

Name: rj! if we're friends who talk, you can call me ridge, too, but i'd prefer it if people who don't know me on a more personal level to just stick w rj, pls <3

Age: [schmidt from new girl voice] twenny-NOINE!

Pronouns: they/them

Tell me about one of your hobbies: uhhh most of my hobbies are stuff i show off on here so there's not much to say that you lot probably don't already know lmao. isn't it wild that i've only been making gifs for 6 months though?! 

What languages do you speak?: english, welsh, german, some french, some spanish, some russian, some british sign language

One of your comfort movies: oh christ, one?! let's say scott pilgrim vs the world, i love it bc i can quote it religiously, it's a v safe movie for me. that being said, i reserve judgement on ANYONE else who says it's their fave movie until they can tell me why, especially a man. if they say it's bc they're just like scott? MAJOR red flag my dude 

Do you have any kids? Do you want any?: nope squared. my best friend has a kid and that's all i need

Cold weather or hot weather: i always say hot when it's currently cold and cold when it's currently hot, lol. i like hot weather in places like america where i can go inside and know i'll cool down, but i like bundling up in cold weather, too 

You’re at an amusement park. What ride are you going on first?: i've always been the person who crowdsources what everyone else wants to do and then i'm the one who plans where we go based on convenience lol. basically i'm good with the first ride we see 

What’s your go-to hairstyle/How do you wear your hair most days?: i usually like to get it chopped at chin length so it doesn't need to be put up, but i haven't had a chance to get it done, so i put it up in a poor excuse of a bun to get the weight of it off of my head 

Who was your top artist in your Spotify Wrapped/Apple Music Reply in 2022?: it was a band called lovejoy, who i found bc one of the guys in it is a streamer i've been watching for years and i really love thier music :) 

You’ve just been handed $1,000 but you have to spend it on clothes. Where are you shopping?: oh god, just wherever does clothes that fit me LMAO 

Wireless or corded headphones: how the fuck did i survive without my wireless soupbowls lmao

Finally, tell me something that sparks joy: one of my residents wrote me a poem today :)

no presh: @keerysquinn @barbienheimer @reysorigins @finalgalnancy @sarahsmiller