#or even a normal proposal.
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shalpilot · 4 months ago
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ghost bride
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idkaguyorsomething · 1 year ago
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the convoluted doctor who lore gets extra funny when you realize that, at two separate points in the past, two different companions to two different doctors ended up running into rasputin but both came to the conclusion that he was a pretty nice and normal guy. which, depending on how you interpret the power of the doctor, is either a nice subversion of a lot of tropes of stories used in pre-soviet russia, or side-splittingly hilarious as you start imagining the master getting roped into various adventures with different versions of the doctor that he can’t fuck with yet or else he’ll destroy the timeline, forcing him to play nice with the humans as part of his 4D Time Chess Master Disguise Plan #3852
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hadesisqueer · 5 months ago
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I like how Violet is so used to having dramatic ass children that Francesca marrying with no drama was too odd to her lmao. And thinking about how her story will unfold is actually kinda hilarious because it's gonna be like:
Violet: Well, that's it. John is a very good man and Francesca is comfortable and happy with her choice and if this is what she truly wants, it's all that matters💜
Violet: Also, it's kinda refreshing to finally have a normal child that doesn't do any dramatic or scandalous shit.
Francesca a few seasons later after her husband passes: *fucks and falls in love with her husband's cousin -who is a woman-*
Violet:
Violet: Honestly, I should've seen this coming, none of my children will actually ever be normal.
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shima-draws · 10 months ago
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Sanlu marriage proposal but it only happens because Luffy’s jealous
“If Pudding got to (almost) marry Sanji then why can’t I??! >:((((”
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yoosung-ah · 4 days ago
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this you?
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incesthemes · 10 months ago
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"their relationship is romantic" "their relationship is familial" "their relationship is platonic" you're thinking too narrow. their relationship goes beyond labels. the family is inherently queer. their platonic love is romantic. the erotic is familial. each one is the other and the other is them
#.txt#i've gotten to the point of relationship anarchy where i no longer understand the obsession with labeling relationships#there's a post floating around like 'it doesn't matter if you view them as romantic or platonic the point is that they love each other'#and i get the message. however may i propose that distinctions such as that don't even have to matter. consider#bold claim probably. but whatever i didn't have the choice to think about love in a normative way and as a consequence i have thoughts#of course i am thinking about wincest but it applies everywhere. jopzier even#jopson views crozier as a surrogate parent but in an inherently queer way. does that mean he want to fuck his mom? probably not#but the fixation and need for redemption turns the traditionally familial relationship into something far more#do you understand#once you leave the normative behind labels become useless#do sam and dean love each other romantically or platonically or familially? consider: it doesn't matter. there are no words to describe it#their love is queer in the sense that it extends beyond normativity. society holds no sway over them. they are ungovernable#i find it ultimately unhelpful to discuss fiction in normative terms when the characters themselves exist outside of normative society#shows like supernatural and the terror are perfect examples. sam and dean were never normal and franklin crew left normal behind#the arctic doesn't care if you fuck your mom. the impala doesn't care if you kiss your brother#this isn't really about anything i just saw that post the other day and i was like. why doesn't this Hit for me. well this is why#however it IS helpful to discuss fiction set within normative society in relation to normativity. it's relevant!#most stories are not however set within the bounds of normativity. that's kinda the whole point of a lot of fiction#baby i explore relationship anarchy in ways that you couldn't even imagine#<-tldr#i have a tendency to write essays in the notes every time i post something. sorry about that. it feels safer here and i am skittish
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absxntdream · 4 months ago
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does anyone out there fuck with my Edward Crow lives au ... pl . plea . please guy,s. its so dark in her,e
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solar-halos · 3 months ago
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odesta week. day #1: modern au monday
summary: annie and finnick engage in some crazy funky shenanigans after a concert
3k, odesta fluff, modern au. also some johannie in the beginning (as a treat) but obv this is odesta endgame. concert they attended isn’t explicitly mentioned but know in ur heart it’s chappell roan
“Wanna do something fun?”
Annie was not expecting Johanna to say anything, so her next opened mouth kiss lands directly on her chin. Oops. The club lights bathe them in swathes of purples and pinks, which complements the lipstick stains on Johanna’s neck. 
“Huh?” Annie asks. It’s a fair question—she thought all this making out they were doing was the fun part. 
In Annie’s opinion, it couldn’t get better than this. It’s not everyday you get to see your favorite artist’s favorite artist live and in concert, and it’s also not everyday that hot people choose to strike up a conversation with her.
Johanna and Finnick are hot. And, even better, they were the ones who turned around and started asking her questions right after they caught her eye in line. Maybe they just really liked her vibes. Peeta and Katniss were accompanying Annie, too, but anyone with a sixth sense could tell that they weren’t really down with throuples.
Annie would be so down for a throuple. Need she remind you that Johanna and Finnick are fucking hot.
Annie had no idea what the fuck a man was doing at this concert, but she already knew she was a goner as soon as Johanna offered Annie a vape she procured from her tits. Annie was ready to dive in. 
And she did—kinda. Eventually. The concert venue was crackling with sick beats and (courtesy of Johanna) simmering sexual tension. Hands on hips, bustier against bustier—it was like they’d known each other for a thousand lifetimes (Annie didn’t even know Johanna’s last name). Then the concert ended, and they were walking out together, and that was all the flirting time Johanna needed to convince Annie that they should start locking lips. 
Speaking of locking lips, how come they’re not doing that right now?
Right. Johanna wanted to do something fun. Annie pulls away and gives Johanna her undivided attention. Well—as undivided as it can be with all the pulsing lights and upbeat music and enthusiastic dancing going around all around them. 
“You’re so cuddly,” Johanna says. Annie is suddenly hyper aware of the fact that she’s not even sitting in her bar stool anymore. Oops. She had no idea that she was trying to drape herself over Johanna, so she pulls away. “I think my friend Finnick would really like that.”
My friend Finnick. As if he needed an introduction. That was the guy who was standing by Johanna’s side in line the entire time they were waiting for the concert to start. In an ideal world, Annie would have been sandwiched between their locked lips, but she had to play it cool. Chances are he’s just one of the girls. 
Or maybe not. They looked like they were having a pretty intense argument the moment the concert ended, making pointed gestures at Annie, but Annie’s own friends were pretty good at distracting her from their (hopefully) platonic lovers quarrel. 
Katniss and Peeta tapped out after the first club. Annie kept going, especially when Johanna’s hands kept wandering lower and lower and lower until Finnick stopped shooting her weird-looking glances altogether. 
“Does Finnick like me?” Annie demands, excitement blooming in her chest. That’s so hot. “Like, does he wanna be with me?”
“Probably,” Johanna replies. She fixes Annie with a glare that looks almost wistful, then gives her a hard kiss on the mouth as a parting gift. “I need post-coital cigarettes. Not cuddles.”
“Oh.” She starts nudging Johanna away now, too, because she doesn’t even smoke. “Good thing you figured that out about us. I would’ve never guessed.”
Johanna raises her pierced eyebrows. “Seriously?”
Annie leans back and studies her. She has pink hair that’s molded into spiky tendrils and a glittering constellation of nose piercings. Annie’s eyes flick down to her bustier and leather pants.
“I don’t like making assumptions about people,” Annie says, as if she hadn’t been thinking with her dick the entire time. 
“Get the fuck out of here,” Johanna replies good naturedly, her own lipstick smeared all across the dimples on her cheek. 
Annie stumbles out of her seat. She’s not even drunk. Not since the first club, at least, but they’ve cycled through so many that she finally registers that her feet ache in her stilettos. Why doesn’t anyone ever talk about the psychological repercussions of serving so much cunt all the time?
She starts her search for Finnick. It was harder to pick him out in the first couple clubs—and not just ‘cause Annie was preoccupied with Johanna—but they’ve officially transitioned out of Las Vegas’ queer scene and landed in dudebro territory. Finnick’s dark eyeliner and chipped red nail polish is really starting to stick out in the-only-club-that’s-still-open Nevada. 
Nevada. Road tripping from California with Peeta and Katniss hadn’t been ideal—Peeta’s car was probably never gonna fully recover from this—but desperate times called for desperate measures. Annie would have attended that concert if it was hosted in the middle of the goddamn ocean, wetsuit and chunky goggles and all.
“Finnick!” She finally finds him, and when she does, she does not hesitate to sit down next to him at the booth he’s at. She’s never been very good at figuring out what the fuck a social cue is, but he seems pretty happy to see her, so she takes that as her sign to keep going. “Hi!”
“Hi,” he says, so softly that the music nearly eats his reply whole. His cheeks flush.
He’s pretty. The dark liner dragging across his under eye would look harsh on anyone else, but she’s suddenly obsessed with all this eye contact he’s making with her. His coppery hair drapes over his shoulders, the soft waves curling right over the knot of his Adam’s apple.
Hot. 
Annie already knows so much about him. They spent a lot of time in line together, so she knows when he graduated high school (he’s only one year older, so the age gap won’t be very hard to defend at all) and where he’s from (California, too—good, ‘cause Annie didn’t wanna do long distance) and how he found out about the concert in the first place (Johanna was obsessed with the music first, then he followed in her footsteps, which Annie doesn’t really mind. She’s already compiling a playlist in her head that she thinks he’ll really like).
“Have you heard of this song?” Oh. It’s like he read her mind. He pulls out his phone, shuffling closer to her. Annie knows that he’s getting so close as an excuse to drown out the blaring music. She cuddles even closer, but she doesn’t have an excuse. She just likes cuddling—Johanna clocked that from a mile away.
Finnick does, too. He slides an arm around her waist and she sets her head on his shoulder the entire time they carefully curate playlists for each other. Annie can’t wait to listen to all the stuff he picked out for her on the way home.
“Favorite color?” Finnick asks, after they got all the soul-binding stuff out of the way, but he keeps giggling because Annie finally found the perfect angle to dot kisses to the underside of his chin. “Wait, let me guess,” he adds, and Annie thinks the only reason he even tacked that on in the first place is because he doesn’t want her lips off his skin. 
“Okay. Guess,” she says, punctuating the demand with another kiss.
He takes his time. Annie progresses to the corner of his mouth, but she doesn’t know if they’re ready for that yet, so she focuses her efforts on his cheek. He ducks his head to the side so that they’re looking each other in the face. No one’s ever looked more kissable.
“Blue,” he says. “Your favorite color is blue.”
“Kinda.” Now it’s his turn to start kissing her. He has a lot of skin to choose from—her bustier is teeny—but he keeps it nice and respectful at her jaw. Annie drags him down to her neck, butterflies erupting in her tummy. “Cerulean.”
“That counts. It’s blue.” He’s getting bolder. He crosses over to sternum territory, green eyes flicking up to hers, which would be sexy if it didn’t look like he was being charged with a crime. 
“Kiss me, please.” Maybe he was waiting for a verbal cue. Hot.
That’s apparently all it takes for him to get cocky. He smiles into her skin, lips dragging over her pulse in another hypnotizing kiss. “Don’t you wanna know my favorite color?”
She knows he doesn’t really mean it. She answers him anyway—she was in the mood to be played with.
“Red.” Like the color of his nails. Like the sky before a storm. His grin broadens, so she knows she’s right, but he obviously intends on teasing her. Two can play at this game. “Am I wrong? Maybe Johanna can give me a hint.”
His eyes get as stormy as his nails. He darts up from her chest, so Annie’s hands fly up to his cheeks to meet him in the middle. Their lips tangle together in a messy blur of spit and tongue, trying their best to map each other out. But, when Annie gets acclimated to the touch and heat and feel of him, she gets acclimated. 
So does he. They’re climbing into each other’s bones in no time.
Annie’s on top—on his lap, raking her acrylics through his waves—but she savors the pressure of his ringed fingers on her hips. Hard enough to bruise.
She angles her neck to the side. He gets the hint. She surveys the area while he gets to work, his chapped lips leaving goosebumps on her skin. She feels restless sitting still like this, even with all the friction his patchwork jeans have to offer. 
“Wanna dance?”
Once again, he takes the words straight out of her mouth. Annie leads the way, with Finnick trailing behind her so he can press more kisses to her neck. The intensity and intimacy of it all has her leaning back into him. Her skin tingles where his hands linger—her bustier, her hips, the whale tail peeking out of her skirt, then all the way back to her bustier again, his fingertips whispering all sorts of promises over her skin.
Annie’s never felt so respected. She feels secure, all tucked up between his arms and his lips. They move as one, united in heart and soul.
“Okay, everyone! Get the fuck out!”
The disco lights disappear, replaced by blinding fluorescents. The security guard up front is already ushering people toward the door. Is it seriously 2am already?
Finnick and Annie glance at each other. Lipstick stains on his neck, ring-shaped indents on hers. There’s no questioning who she’s going home with tonight, so she slips her hand into his and fishes her phone out of her purse with the other. Katniss was okay with leaving Annie with Johanna and Finnick under one condition: Annie had to send her frequent updates about her night.
you can’t fuck some rando you just met, Katniss replies, but it’s so much more than that. They weren’t just gonna fuck—they were gonna exchange souls. 
They pass by Johanna on the way out. She’s walking with someone else, a new layer of lipstick slathered over her face. She salutes them both as she and some girl climb into an Uber. 
Finnick and Annie look at each other again. And then they burst out laughing.
Anyway, Finnick isn’t a rando. He’s someone she knows on a personal and metaphorical level. He’s the sugarcubes in her coffee (he likes sweet drinks) and the training wheels on her bike (he never learned how to ride). She knows him more than she knows anyone on earth—including herself.
Annie doesn’t make it very far in her stilettos. They collapse on the curb so she can take a moment to rest. She takes this time to stare at him some more, absolutely in love with the slope of his nose and the curve of his jaw.
She has her feet in his lap in no time, his fingers rubbing the tension out of her muscles. She has no idea how it happened, or who initiated the contact—it was as natural as the progression of their relationship. Taking care of each other is second nature by now. 
“I think I have some band aids in here,” he says, scrounging around his pockets. “Johanna’s platforms give her nasty blisters, even if she never says anything about it.”
He carefully smooths out a couple bandaids over the curve of her ankle. She sighs, snuggling into the warmth of his chest. He drapes an arm around her bare shoulders. 
“I left my extra shoes with Peeta. I knew I should have changed into them before he left.”
Finnick has her covered. He carries her around on his back, her strappy shoes dangling from her fingertips. She grins into his neck the entire way to the gas station.
The guy at the cash register throws them a weary look as they buy a bottle of tequila. They also throw in some chips and nacho cheese. All that dancing made Annie hungry. 
There’s a glob of cheese stuck to the corner of Finnick’s mouth. Annie knows her falsies must be horribly crooked by now, so she peels them off. Usually, she thinks littering sucks, but there’s something in the air tonight that’s making her feel silly. 
“Wanna make a wish?” she asks. 
He takes her seriously. He stares at the clump of falsies in her hand for a long moment. He kisses her knuckles, informing her that he made his wish, so she lets the lashes go.
“What’d you wish for?”
“You,” he says. “Can’t get more specific, or else it won’t come true.”
It’s just the right blend of sappy and secretive that makes her heart melt. Loving and being loved has always been an intense, cosmic ordeal for Annie. She’ll never look at the color red the same way, will never pick up black eyeliner without thinking of him first. 
Finnick keeps rubbing over the ring on his finger—the one with the blue, glowing center—and Annie bets it’s because she mentioned it’s her favorite. His cheeks are perpetually rosy pink, even without the tequila. He even stares at her like she’s responsible for the stars aligning. 
“I love you,” he says, as softly as the fingers he has in her hair.
Her breath catches in her throat. He loves her.
“I love you,” she replies. She can’t imagine a time where she didn’t. “You’re not on anything, are you? ‘Cause I’m not.”
He holds up the barely tapped into tequila. Annie shrugs. “That doesn’t count,” she tells him. “I’m on that, too. And I loved you way before.”
He smiles at her. Annie’s never felt prettier. “Okay. If I do something weird, promise you’ll hear me out?”
Annie nods. She’s not even worried.
He nods back, extracting his hands from her hair. His knee suddenly bounces up and down and up and down. “Okay,” he repeats, then unstacks all of his rings so he can slide the blue one off his finger. Annie’s favorite. 
He holds it out to her, the bejeweled part facing her.
“Think of it as a promise,” he says. Annie brushes a stray piece of hair out of his face. “I mean—I can’t stop thinking about how perfectly this fell into place. Even when we go back home, you’re less than an hour away.”
“It’s like we were destined to meet,” Annie agrees. She accepts the ring, slipping it onto her finger. There’s a bit of wiggle room, but that’s perfect for her. She doesn’t like feeling trapped. “I want to get married.”
“So do I,” he replies, almost cautiously. Oh—Annie thinks she finally managed to freak him out. “Should we?”
Or maybe not. Annie smiles at him, suddenly feeling shy. “You don’t mean it.”
He shows her how much he means it. He stands up, offers her his hand, and scoops her right into his arms. She’s in charge of navigation, leading them straight to the nearest chapel. 
“You don’t mean it,” she repeats into his neck, because he can’t. It would be too good to be true. “I’m not dressed for it.”
“Neither am I,” he replies, trying to coax her back out, but she doesn’t budge. He kisses the crown of her head. “We’ll have another one. In California. And we’ll do it exactly the way we want.”
That’s exciting enough that Annie practically leaps out of his arms. They have to sign a whole bunch of papers stating that they’re completely, honestly sober, so Annie flings the tequila into the trash to get rid of any incriminating evidence.
It doesn’t matter how high their blood alcohol content is. Haven’t you heard that drunk actions are just sober thoughts?
A lady waiting behind them clips a veil onto Annie’s head when it’s finally their turn. Annie wasn’t gonna pretend that she wasn’t excited on her wedding day, so she allows herself to stumble a bit as they rush to the altar.
“You’re not gonna,” Annie whispers to him.
He leans over and catches her lips in another kiss. She doesn’t hesitate to drape herself over him. “Watch me,” he whispers back.
Annie does. She doesn’t think she’ll ever stop. She watches him the entire time they’re pronounced husband and wife, she watches him when the guy officiating their wedding tells them to get the fuck outta there (he did not appreciate Finnick launching into some impromptu vows), and she watches him the entire Uber drive over to her hotel.
Peeta and Katniss booked their own separate room, which worked out very well for Annie. They strip all the way down to their rings as soon as they get inside, but not for the reason you might think. Annie always wanted a wedding by the beach, but this landlocked middle-of-fucking nowhere state couldn’t provide that for her. The hotel pool was the next best thing.
Annie throws on her bathing suit. Finnick has to go in his underwear, but they make it work. They splash around and dive under the water again and again and again until Annie feels like she’s being reborn with the fiery intensity of a thousand suns. 
They’re so exhausted when they go back to the room that they only have enough energy to collapse into bed, wet clothes and all. Finnick might be the best cuddler she’s ever seen. 
“I love you,” Annie tells him, because it was hard to stop saying it once she started. She’s consumed by it. 
She doesn’t even feel like she’s married—doesn’t even feel tied down to him, doesn’t feel trapped, doesn’t feel like anyone but herself—which is how she knows that they did it right. Katniss is going to be so happy that Annie exercised enough self control to not fuck him on the spot. 
“I love you,” he replies, already half asleep. Annie wonders if he’ll dream of her.
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literary-heights · 10 months ago
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Abbey by Mitski
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dykesynthezoid · 4 months ago
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It’s like of course Akasha’s from Uruk. The city with the patron goddess of war and sexuality who’s notoriously ambitious and bloodthirsty and sacrificed her own consort for her freedom? And Akasha rules over a kingdom in pre-dynastic Egypt, the surviving art of which rarely bothers to feature men in preference for an abundance of goddess/fertility figurines? Yeah. I’d say that tracks
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howlsmovinglibrary · 2 years ago
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Look, I’m a slut for fictional men and fey princes, but it is now just frankly embarrassing to admit that I am in love with a figment of someone else’s imagination called ‘Wendel Bambleby’, of all things. Like that is crossing some kind of line.
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zeb-z · 1 year ago
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ok listen. you're badboyhalo and having the worst week of your life. you're willing and wanting to give anything, anything, to get your kids back. forever, your crush/enemy/friend/date partner?/ president sits you down and asks you to marry him. he's on a drug that makes him manically happy and has an extreme level of brainwashing for federation purposes.
you consider for the briefest moment saying yes, because you're drowning in your grief and hard in bargaining, but it won't do anything to help bring the eggs back, forever doesn't know anything. forever wants the eggs back as much as you do, the real one at least, you know this.
you're surrounded by roses. you ask him what you can do to help him, what he needs, asking the forever that you know is in there somewhere. any other personal feelings aside, he's your friend and he clearly needs help. he asks you to marry him again. he tells you to stop making some noise that he's clearly hearing through auditory hallucination. you just want your kids back, you keep telling him this, until he snaps and starts shooting mines under both of you.
forever is still out of his mind. your kids are still missing. the roses are burning.
bad said no to the proposal, of course he did. that's not forever, the kids are gone, this is no time or place for such a thing even if forever was himself. but I don't think forever asked because he feels "opposite than what he usually feels" under the pills. he's manic and under the influence and half brainwashed - he wants every day to be the best day.
and how heartbreaking is that? that bad is only being proposed to while forever is out of his mind. that forever wants bad to say yes because that would make the day the best day ever for him. that under any other circumstances, on that bench with the roses all around them, it might have been something good?
#idk man like take this with a grain of salt too know but l'm taking a stand against every twt user that's been annoying me with their takes#you can't view all of this under a purely platonic lense because of the way they've been playing their characters. you also can't see it as#oh forever finally proposed!' because he's not! it's a whole fucked situation there's nuance and complications and so many factors#like don't be upset bad said no forever is clearly not himself? and who knows if he would even say yes in the first place?#but also on the opposite side like chill out? they've never been read as purely platonic? it's all fucked yeah don't be weirdly like#idk it's the people who are like that's fucked up and you're fucked up for watching it' with no media literacy. like yeah we're all aware#anyways. my view is that they've got incredibly complicated feelings towards eachother. forever would be happiest marrying bad#bad might not say yes under normal circumstances because again they've got a whole complex situation. he isn't sure of his own feelings on a#good day#idk. I need to write an essay about this and what bads internal monologue or thoughts might have been because#it's like. he's angry at forever. he has feelings for forever. he doesn't want to be with him but he doesn't want him with anyone else#there's a world where he could marry forever and be happy. but not here and not like this. idk#these are my interpretations at least!#either way the whole bench scene was phenomenal well done#z speaks#qsmp#mcyt#bbh#forever#q!bbh#q!forever#reposting this so my organizational tags work ✌#4halo
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alphaketoglutaricacid · 6 months ago
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Also i find her naive desperation (cant find the right words for it) to see her adventuring crew as sworn friends wholl go thru hell together even tho shes the newest addition soooo telling. Shes had trouble making friends her whole life she was really hoping! And even the ones who left are willing to go to hell for her n the crew so its not like its not true. Its just not like how it is in her mangas. I think theres a good chance she n namari become like closer after the end of the series.
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kyros-tha-soldier · 1 year ago
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ONE PIECE 1097 SPOILERS
The world government's description of Kuma:
Bartholomew Kuma the tyrant is a menace to people, being a buccaneer only adds to his hostility, he's dangerous beyond means and should be manipulated for our benefit!
Also Kuma:
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kocch · 2 years ago
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just sketched some fave scenes of a current fave fic!
if you stay. byler x the proposal (2009). mike wheeler, threatened by the near deportation to his homeland, drags his assistant, will byers, into a fake marriage to keep working in the usa
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razmerry · 8 months ago
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I love buddy baker he's such a wifeguy
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