#phantom my other husband you look good too

[whispeyrains]

Hrrrrggghh Skade finally posted their Arknights Anniversary art and its gorgeous! 😍 but, the placement of characters here. Hm. Why is Executor front and centre. Are you trying to tell us smth Skade

[evilminji]

You know what I never see explored?

"Not on MY watch!" Superfan Dash Baxter. The young, limnal, quarterback built like a tank and willing to hit like one.

Because let's be real here. Imagine that scenario: Dash, heading to practice with his Bros. His best friends. The team. When? Oh shit! It's PHANTOM! Best day EVER right?

Except it's NOT.

Somethings wrong. He's not as graceful as he usually is. There is no clever comebacks. He looks beat up, man. What HAPPENED? Everyone looks confused when Dash looks around. But before he can call up to him?

Phantom is Shot Out Of The SKY.

Hits the football field HARD. The entire team is already running. Full sprint. It's those fucking GIW. Already driving onto the field and tearing it up. Jumping out, weapons primed.

Phantom's not... oh god, he's not getting up.

He looks hurt. Really hurt. Those bastards are closing in.

Dash's team? Has his back. They're also fans. Friends of his. Not a single one hesitates. They put their BACKS into it and welcome these sick fucks to Tackle Practice. With a follow up of "Taste Your Own Teeth". Amity special, coach would be proud.

But Dash... fuck, he can't wail on these guys AND protect Phantom at the same time. Kwan tells him to go. Throws him his keys. His car is least shit. Dash owes him SO many pizzas for this. First pick on movies for LIFE, man.

It hurts to leave his team behind. His best friend. But Dash has to GO. He can already hear the Fentons closing in. He grabs Phantom, his HERO, and runs for his life.

Barely manages to peel out of there in time. Floors it. Calls Paulina, obviously. She and Star are doing a spa day thing. She picks up because she KNOWS he wouldn't bother her if it wasn't serious. And-!

Oh...

Oh fuck.

In the rear view mirror. The Fentons and GIW just screeched onto the road behind him. Closing distance FAST. What does he do? Paulina he can't... he WON'T hand Phantom over!

And of course she understands. For God's sake, she in LOVE with the guy. He's never heard her sound so scared and furious. They'll get phantom over her twice dead body. She and Star are making some sort of noises, chanting, and...?

Giant Amazons with swords? GHOST Amazons. Suddenly in the road, jumping over his car to attack the cars behind him. Paulina what the FUCK?? She been talking to her Abuela, APPARENTLY. Who's friends aunt's "roomate" was particularly good at communicating with the dead. So OBVIOUSLY Paulina got her to send notes and studied them in secret.

Gotta be able to speak to you future husband's family in their native language. You win brownie points. Gives her a step up. "Not the point"? It's kind of a point! Giant warrior women! Who-?

Paulina made friends while practicing.

Of course she did. Why is he even REMOTELY surprised she chose the giant terrifying Amazons to be beasties with? He's know her for years. He should know better by now.

.....he feels small asking. Hates that his voice shakes. But... but what do they DO, 'Lina?

What he hates even more is the little shake in his childhood friends voice, even though she's trying to sound certain and strong. What they Do? What they DO is Dash drives his ass the her house, gets in her BETTER car, which she is going to load up, and they leave Amity.

She has LOADS of money. All sorts of jewelry. They're very last season. Frankly, she.. she can't WAIT to pawn them if they have too. They just have to drive. Get Phantom as far away from those freaks as possible. Get help.

And? It could go so many ways from there? Paulina LOVES Phantom. How will she reconcile that with her views on Fenton? How will Dash? Seperated from their roles as "the popular ones" and "the crazy people's son". Knowing that... that Danny likes her TOO.

But she's been AWFUL to him. She said so much. DID so much.

Do the even? LIKE each other? Or just the IDEA of each other? The person they made up in their heads.

They're afraid, tired, on the run. But free from school, the expectations of others, the baked in histories of a small town. Who ARE they as people? Do they like each other? COULD they?

I want to believe that Paulina really means it. That no one is at their best in middle and high school. They say and do stupid, mean, shallow shit. Because the world presses and presses and tells them it's all they are worth. Because they don't know who they ARE yet. Because she is a child. Not yet eighteen.

And Danny isn't perfect either. He saw a pretty, pretty face and got distracted by it. Didn't see how HARD she works. How smart she is. How ambitious and brilliant at reading people.

Are they trying to get to an Embassy? To Paulina's extended Family to the south, who would most certainly take them in, and would gladly fight gods for them? Or is this a crossover? Are they going towards other Heros? Older ones?

Is Paulina planning to pull a Lois Lane and Cause Problems On Purpose? Is Dash HAUNTED by "oh fuck, Wes was right." And now knows he's gonna have just... just WALK UP TO THEM. Broad ass daylight. Like "hello, I clearly know your secret identity! Please don't kill me!"?

Whatever the plan? Danny is in the back row of Paulina's once nice, now beat to hell car, bleeding irresistibly damaging acidic ecto-blood all over the seats. Wrapped up like a mummy. Texting Tucker.

The live tweets from Amity are... An Event. A Spectacle for the ages. His parents KNOW now, have speed run their grief STRAIGHT to RAGE, directed that rage at the GIW, and gone to WAR. Once a Fenton, always a Fenton. Jazz was right. "Anti-ghost" sentience testing once a week DID pay off.

Was it a pain in the ass? Absolutely. But results don't lie. He clearly passed. Is clearly sentient, emotional, and their son. All in hard numbers they ran themselves. Will it stop them attack FULL ghosts? Jazz has no idea. But it sure did convince them to put the GIW in a hole and fill it with concrete.

Danny's getting reports of "you SHOT MY BABY!" Being shouted in public. Sam has decided to channel her frustration at being unable to help him into Full Goth Dramatic Shit Stirring. Non-waterproof mascara, disheveled hair. Clutching a picture of him. Dramatic howling and weeping in the arms of her parents.

Apparently now that he's presumed DEAD, the Mansons ALWAYS loved him. Like a SON to them. A sweet, innocent child. Their daughters friend! The GIW are monsters and child killers, they decry.

And the Red Huntress is... Oh, yikes. Yeah he should call her. Val is one more bad thing happening from her villian origin story. At least she... PROBABLY... has killed anyone yet. Note to self: when Danny can actually move torso again, buy Valerie soothing anti-stress...everything. All the things. She responds to stress by punching. Deliver from safe, non-punchable distance.

All in all? My Dash? Needs more Dash! Give the popular kids a chance to prove they aren't just cardboard cut outs! That they can grow beyond the roles high-school and society has pushed them into! Give them some trauma! Why only Danny? Spread the psychic damage!

@stealingyourbones @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DP x DC prompt. ~“Unstable connection”~ Dead on main.

Part 9.3. "A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you." — Elbert Hubbard

~~~~~

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

Part 8. Part 9. New: Part 9.1. Part 9.2. Part 9.3.

Part 10. Part 11. Part 12. Meme break №1. Part 13.

Roy: Look, I’m deeply flattered that you decided to talk about your feelings with me because you bats are allergic to them, but you’re seriously telling me that you’re texting a guy from out of Gotham? What for?

Jason: Do I need a reason?

Roy: Usually not, but I know you’re paranoid.

A cookie flies straight into Roy’s head.

Jason: Shut up. I know how to relax. He’s just a guy. No harm from boyf- a friend.

Roy: What you see in him? No, I rather have to ask how he tolerates you. I deserve a reward for being your best friend.

Jason: Hey, actually, I like Bizarro a lot more, just so you know, jerk. And we actually have more in common than it seems. He gets along with dead people who hang out in his town a lot. And.. I don’t know, okay? It’s just easy to talk to him, and he doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would yell if he found out about me something weird for any other stranger. He feels like home. Safe one. I can rest when I talk to him, you know?

Roy: So you trust him? With everything?

Jason: I’m not an idiot and I’m not going to reveal everything until we talk offline. I don’t even know if I want to. Of course he’s not afraid of the undead from his town and he didn’t convict Hood for his actions when I asked him for his opinion, but talking about a specific person and some vigilante from the shadows is different. I don’t want him to be afraid of me or be disappointed in me. But somehow part of me believes that he will take this side of me. I sent him a picture with knives on my thighs, and he didn’t care. And one time, I messed up the chats and I sent him a threat that was meant to check on my new guys. He yelled at me. Because I could be reported to the police.

Roy: Well, if you like him, just try not to screw it up.

Jason: I’m trying. And by the way if Dick finds out about our conversation, I’ll throw you in the river.

Roy: Dude, you’ve known me for years! I bet you don’t threaten your lover like that! Have some trust.

Jason: Okay. So, I don’t know what to do, Roy. Fenton is perfect. But he’s a civilian. Phantom looks dead handsome but I know almost nothing about him. And what I know I learned from Danny. And now the fic that I’m writing is full of adult-rated scenes. Of course, I don’t add them to my work on ao3, but it’s still so weird.

Roy: Have you tried sending this to Fenton? With any luck, he’ll take it as flirting.

Jason: What? Hell no! He thinks I’m a mercenary for Red Hood. He’s gonna think I have wet fantasies about my boss and I’m gonna lose all self-respect, and he’s gonna block me and...

Roy: Okay, okay, slow down a little. We both know you’re weird, but you’re not that weird. And he’s not even your boyfriend. So his opinion doesn’t really matter.

Jason *whispers*: He's my husband. And it does.

Roy: Dude, I mean, I support your vibe but isn’t this guy supposed to know that he’s gonna have the title of the husband of a crime lord first.

Jason: Fair.

~~~~~~~

~Next morning~

Dick: So, I heard my Little Wing has a boyfriend. What’s his name? When are you bringing him to the family dinner?

Jason:…I’m gonna kill Harper. ~~~~~~~

Bizarro *on his way to tell all to Artemis and impress his good friend’s boyfriend*. First, he can leave a Red Hood doll by the window of a couple of his friend. It’ll help him understand that Bizarro isn’t dangerous and then the boy will want to be his friend too. Good plan, Pup Pup!

[whereonceiwasfire]

Look. Look. I am as invested as the next person in a nuanced, well-developed exploration of the fractured relationship between the college trio, but I contain multitudes, and also just really need more AUs in my life where Maddie actually knows Vlad is now a ghost loser simp intent on getting Jack out of the picture and plans on ctrl-v-ing himself in his ex-best-friend's place like a badly photoshopped family picture, because I think this has the potential to be absolutely HILARIOUS.

Neither of them tells Jack because Maddie can't bear to break her husband's heart by revealing the truth about their long-lost friend, and Vlad won't tell him because, on top of the obvious reasons, Jack also keeps inviting Vlad to stuff. Family dinner? Danny's school events? Camping trips? It's remarkably convenient as it puts him in a great position to play Uncle Vlad until he can successfully enact his bonkers plan.

Except now, in addition to Danny knowing Vlad is up to no good and being very much not on board with the Fruitloop's whole shtick, Maddie's in the same boat too. But Maddie and Danny are keeping this info from each other because she still doesn't/can't know her son is Phantom and if Danny outs Vlad, Vlad will turn around and spill his little secret too. And for Maddie's part, she probably just doesn't want her son knowing that Vlad is a ghost. It's a bad look to admit you've welcomed a specter from the afterlife into your house (on multiple occasions) when you've spouted off how dangerous these creatures are since your kiddos could walk.

This sets up a scenario where you've got Jack: oblivious, Danny: trying not to reveal his secret while also keeping Vlad from murdering his dad, Maddie: being a badass ghost hunter protecting her family and blasting Vlad into next Tuesday every chance she gets, and Vlad: just, being very...Vlad about everything. Chaos and hilarity ensues.

Can you see my vision?

Jack's humming to himself while making dinner, back turned, unaware anything is amiss as Maddie saves his life, firing a blaster at Plasmius and sending him through a wall before he can attack her husband. She immediatley hides the ecto-weapon behind her back, giving a too-enthusastic "how was your day sweetie!" when Danny walks in the door, brows raised. Jack turns around at the interruption, giving a bright, oblivious, "Where'd Vladdy go?!" which prompts a groan and a "that guy's here again?" from Danny.

Maddie and Danny can bond over their shared aversion to Vlad's general existance, though neither of them admit there's a little more to it than just "he's an arrogant asshole." Or, better yet, they're both putting on the facade, keeping up pretenses, pretending they don't despise the dude, because how are they supposed to explain why they despise the dude? Vlad is impossibly amused by the whole song and dance they're doing, because of course, he's the only one who realizes that Maddie and Danny both know he's a half ghost and are keeping that from each other. And like, as if he's going to let them in on that little tidbit unless it directly benefits him.

Sometimes Maddie and Danny run into awkward situations where they're both trying to protect Jack, but they don't realize it, and they can't be overt about it without the other person realizing what's going on. "Don't you have homework? You go do that, I'll check on your father and...uncle Vlad." "Oh, no, no, don't you worry about it, you're so busy, Mom. I can go check on them!" "That's really not necessary. I don't mind at all." Meanwhile, Vlad is in the kitchen like "why don't you check that cooking oil with your face, Jack? Oh, I know it sounds unorthodox, but I swear that's how they do it in France."

[holostarz]

my problem is i think most of p5s ships are cute and thats why i almost always am down for some form of polythieves

usually i just lump all the guys together cause all those ships are just so good to me??? and i mean like, every combination of them, even without ren. ill ship ryuji and yusuke. and i also love goro with either of them. ryugoro and akekita are so rare but theyre so nice?? they all just. clenches fists. theyre so good ot4 pegoryugorokita

goroann besties is real in my heart. also goroharu being like the Cursed besties ever in the end like. my god they have such a wack and unhinged platonic soulmates/kindred spirits potential. goromako rivals forever my guy they are so fucking funny. and ryukoto is kinda cute...

i think shumako is nice but its just not my cuppa tea. they are dear friends and i do love the image of ren and makoto being a bit rivalcoded and butting heads over phantom thievery and how to lead the team best. and goro is weirdly the one who can actually somehow stop arguments before they happen and get them to compromise.

makoto is NOT the mom friend okay she is the bossy and protective older sister friend. and she is smart and sensible but not immune to her friends infecting her with Stupid. ren is the mom friend. and the dad friend. best of both things. :)

ren: its hard raising 8 kids when youre in high school and an 18 y/o whos like if a divorced widow was a boy 😔 sojiro: what happened to your husband??? ren: he was lost at sea goro: ren, look at this dog i saw on my way here ren: i can still hear his voice

meanwhile i love futago half siblings headcanon. so while goro and makoto are a little more sibling rivalry coded, futaba is still goros actual gremlin sibling who will bully him to death. meanwhile, futaba is actually adoptive siblings with ren. these two are WAY more sibling coded than goro and futaba ever.

and when futaba starts trying to do similar Sibling dynamic things with goro. goro is like ??? "ren, futaba just came in here. stared at me. burped. and then left. what does this mean." and ren is like. "oh is there food? theyre probably telling you theres food and to come out if you want some. or if this is your first time seeing them today they could just be greeting you." and goro is like ????? but louder this time

i love shujin trio poly... and i default to them being the OG Cule. shuann? v cute love them. ryuann? also cute and honestly v funny of how messy i imagine their hookups being. like they keep breaking up and eventually finding their way back to each other. sometimes i see them as sibling coded, too, more than anything else. overall i just love these three together they are the tomodachis of all time they are partners for life

i also love ryuharu. and harukita (yuharu?) theyre really cute.... then theres good ol makoharu and annmako (makoann?) and i love them too... honestly love hifumi and makoto too?? i think they would be huge fucking dorks together... perhaps.... rivals, even?

goro and hifumi being friends... good shit. hifumi and yusuke being close friends? plz... and ren and hifumi are just. wahh i love them theyre so good. even futaba and hifumi could be cute, honestly.... wtf

and we cannot forget ANNSHIHO,,, forever. my GORLS.... lesbiabs of my heart.

anntaba is a rare one but theyre also v cute to me... and if they arent girlfriends i love the idea of futaba having a crush on her and then realizing those feelings are actually just Admiration and Gender envy. i also love the idea of morgana finding out his crush on ann is ALSO GENDER ENVY RELATED.... we love nonbiney morgana. hope is genderless

ren: my CAT IS TRANS!? NOT CLICKBAIT?

and makoto is always being an older sister to futaba. yutaba is nice, too. i honestly see futaba and yusuke being aspec and theyre platonic soulmates and in a qpp. and ofc sumitaba my beloved... i love sumitaba a lot

i adore ryusumi too like oh myg od,,.. wahh.... the sweeties. sumikita is so rare but like. i think they could be kinda cute too?? sumigoro is V platonic soulmates to me like my god theyre so. clenches fist. honestly whole royal trio tbh is just. "they can make each other worse" and each of them thinking "thank god im the normal one here" thats it thats the whole dynamic. and its so funny.

shusumi is cute too but honestly i think i prefer both ren and goro have somethin of a platonic soulmates or older sibling dynamic with sumire. they have adopted her okay. sumiann isnt one i see a lot either but they.... THEM.....

any mishima ship is super funny imo but like, theyre cute. love yuuki having a crush on ren but like. the game makes it near impossible for you to actually be fucking nice to him so i always get the vibe that ren would rather keep him at a distance, even tho they appreciate him and care about him.

its okay tho cause i say hes good friends with the OG trio + shiho and they vibe. yuuki crushing on goro, to his own horror? hilarious. and weirdly enough shiho and ren?? idk what their acronym is. but. oh my god. theyre actually weirdly cute? but i see them having disaster twins energy. theyre absolute menaces.

[babycandle]

kindergarten teacher!reader x john price imagine 🖍️🧨❤️‍🩹

You first meet John when he comes to pick up his niece and nephew with his sister-in-law.

According to Lucy, his brother’s wife, he’s a government worker who is constantly traveling for work, and the kids missed their super cool uncle dearly. You’d heard many stories from the kids themselves, but this Uncle John remained sort of an enigma to you, like an imaginary friend.

Nothing could have prepared you for the real Uncle John.

He stands at a good head (and maybe half) taller than you, dressed in a casual navy shirt and utilitarian cargo trousers, a baseball cap embroidered with the British flag atop his head. Thick facial hair covers most of his lower face, but it doesn't do much to hide the bright smile he gets as soon as he lays eyes on the kids. The ease with which he picks up his niece and nephew, Olivia and Oliver, nearly leaves you breathless – not to mention, the sight of his thick, fuzzy arms flexing and unflexing as he tosses a kid over each shoulder, eliciting delighted squeals from them both.

(In some decrepit corner in your mind, you wonder if he could do the same to you. Probably.)

As you're chatting with her and updating her about her kids’ day, Lucy motions him over so she can introduce you to each other. “This is my husband's brother, John!”

“Hello there, lass.”

The smooth, brassy tones of his voice wash over you like a tidal wave that you’d happily drown in. You introduce yourself as the kids’ kindergarten teacher, and he gives you a good-natured smile as his niece and nephew start climbing all over him like a tree. “I hope they haven't been causing you much trouble,” he chuckles, a twinkle in his eye.

You try your best to swallow the dryness in your mouth. “Of course not! It’s a joy to watch them learn and grow everyday,” you reply sheepishly, clearing your throat as you avert your gaze.

You're too busy internally cursing yourself for not looking a bit more put together; there's dirt and sand all over the bottom half of your overalls, paint splatters going all the way up your arms and maybe even on your face, and your hair is matted and frizzy. Self-consciously scuffing the soles of your sneakers against the floor as you try and fail to get the sand off of it, you miss the way his gaze rakes over you from head to toe, the corner of his mouth curling in interest.

It's at that exact moment that Lucy plucks her kids off of John and hands them each their backpack to carry themselves. You deflate a little, knowing that that's their cue to leave.

However, you instantly perk back up again when John turns to you, his arms now empty, and extends a hand for you to shake. “‘Twas a pleasure meeting you, lass. Hope to see you around more often, yeah?”

Your heart catches in your throat as you reach out to shake his hand. When he grabs you in a firm, warm grip, you feel his calloused fingerpads brush over the back of your hand, and you have to suppress a shiver from running down your back.

“It was nice meeting you too, John.” You offer him a shy smile, praying that your cheeks don't look as warm as they feel.

You distantly wonder if you were imagining his touch lingering just a tad too long before he finally lets go.

As he turns around to leave with his family, you're quickly whisked away by the other kids demanding your attention. Consequently, you don't notice the way his eyes stay on you even as he walks out the gates, nor do you notice the way his sister-in-law waggles her eyebrows at him suggestively as soon as they're out of earshot.

You don't have high hopes of seeing him after that, of course. Maybe it's just the fact that you've been single for several years since your first serious relationship ended – yes, you convince yourself, that's why you can't stop thinking about him all night. That's why you still feel the weight of his hand in yours, the brush of his fingers on your skin tickling like a phantom touch. That's why the sound of his voice echoes in your mind like a broken record, and that's why you keep thinking back to the way his eyes crinkled when he looked fondly at his niece and nephew.

But you can't deny the way your chest squeezes when, the next day at kindy, he comes by to pick up the kids again – this time, alone.

bonus (an alternative pov):

There's a very short, concise list of the things Price lives for. Since the birth of his brother’s daughter, she’s been undoubtedly added to the top of that list. Then followed the birth of his nephew as well, who obviously followed suit and quickly became a serious contender for the number one spot.

He makes it a point to visit his brother’s family every single time he gets time off without fail. The kids grow up absolutely adoring their super cool, super strong uncle who always comes back from his business trips with funny stories to share. (Their favourite activity to do with him is hanging off his arm, almost using it like a monkey bar.)

So, when he’s finally granted leave after nearly a year of bouncing all over the world and eliminating several apocalypse-level threats, the first thing he does is call his brother and fly back straight to them.

He lands while the kids are at kindergarten, so when Lucy offers to bring him along to pick them up, he jumps at the chance. (He made sure to take a very thorough shower before hopping on the flight here, not wanting a single speck of dirt from foreign lands or speck of blood on him. Even so, before he leaves with Lucy, he takes extra care to wash his hands and scrub underneath his fingernails again. Just in case.)

It goes without question that he's absolutely over the moon to see Olivia and Oliver – the sight of them running to him, screaming his name in joy is nearly enough to make him melt. He sweeps them up in his arms, holding onto them like a lifeline.

Occupied with the kids for a few minutes, he glances up to see where Lucy has gone. Then, he sees you.

You're chatting with Lucy, your smile bright and your eyes brighter. There's wildflowers tucked into every pocket on your overalls and rainbows of paint on your arms, as well as a smudge of yellow on the side of your cheek. The soft afternoon sunlight hits your hair at just the right angle that it highlights the stray strands of hair on your head, making you look like you're wearing a halo.

For a moment, all the bustle and noise around him winds down into a fuzzy, white silence. You're the prettiest thing he's ever laid eyes on.

[flowerandblood]

Sweetly desire, bitterly deprive

Halloween Request Oneshots Series

[ Victorian Horror • Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, partial rape, choking, violence, murder and suicide, obsession ]

[ description: Lost in his own emptiness and cold, Aemond lives with his family in their large estates, wandering their halls like a ghost, lost in his own madness. One day, his mother's friend arrived at their manor with her husband and daughter. He becomes obsessed with her, which leads to a series of unfortunate events. Obsessive, delving into madness, poetic, very dark! Aemond. ]

This oneshot is my idea and a reference to the wonderful work of Edgar Allan Poe, his Eleanor and Morella and is created with Halloween in mind, so unlike what I usually write, these fisc will be very dark and uncomfortable. Keep this in mind before you start reading.

*English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy!*

My others works: Masterlist

_____

It seemed to him that something in him had disappeared, collapsed when he lost his left eye − he had partly ceased to be human and had become some kind of caricatured creature, menacing, tall as a tower, pale and cold as marble.

He had never lacked anything − his family was wealthy, owning many mansions all over the country, all identically decorated, sumptuously adorned with portraits of their ancestors looking at him melancholy and proudly out of the canvas, continually judging him.

He had the impression that at night their faces changed − his great-grandmothers and great-grandfathers seemed suddenly to be some kind of phantoms, their faces contorted, displeased at the sight of him, his existence.

He still felt watched, he felt overwhelmed, he felt that something hovered over him, but he could not name this premonition, this certainty.

He had tried to explain it to his mother once, but she had looked at him with such concerned, frightened eyes that he decided he would never mention it again.

He knew that his family considered him insane − a man out of his mind, irrational, aggressive in his words, with a gaze that cut like a sharp blade, making interlocutors turn their faces away from him, unable to bear it.

He saw her for the first time when she arrived at their residence with her parents, Mr and Mrs Orwell, at the invitation of his mother, who had been friends with Mrs Orwell as a child. He watched closely her small, graceful figure standing in the corridor behind her parents, her gaze lowered downwards, thoughtful.

She shuddered as if she subconsciously sensed that she was being watched and glanced in his direction − her pupils dilated suddenly, as if from a dream world she had returned to earth with the cruel pull of some unknown force, as if his figure, his silhouette had crushed her.

They stared at each other for too long to be considered in accordance with good manners − only when her parents walked into the living room where he sat did he rise from his chair, reminding himself of such a basic thing as breathing, and straightened up, folding his arms behind him, allowing himself to introduce the people who would be guests in their home from now on.

He knew that Miss Orwell could feel his burning gaze on her, fleeing from him to the far end of the room, looking at the books stacked on the shelves of the old oak bookcase.

He watched from behind her beautiful neck, her hair pinned up in a bun and braids framing her head on either side − her gown was sewn from a delicate, light-coloured fabric, its cut was simple, perfectly emphasising her figure, her almost bare shoulders.

Her neck and her shoulders drove him mad.

The perfect curve of the transition of one part of her body into the other, her shiny, soft skin, the softness of the shape that was forming.

Then he lifted his gaze higher and discovered her slightly rounded, short, proportionate nose, forming a perfect angle with her straight, smooth forehead, the totality of this view framed by her eyes like precious stones, bright, shining, surrounded by long lashes like veils, emphasising its depths, giving her an aura of mystery.

Finally, he struggled to dare to shift his attention to the most intimate exposed part of her body, her fleshy, full, pink lips, both pressed against each other, still remaining virtually imperceptibly parted, the point of their contact seeming incredibly soft and moist.

He saw her throw him an uncertain, frightened look and clench her hands in front of her, not knowing how to act, how to dissuade him − she only relaxed when his sister, Helaena, walked into their living room.

They greeted each other as if they were old friends − even though they were seeing each other for the first time, they grasped each other's hands and from then on they were inseparable.

He often watched them through the window, seeing their silhouettes move unhurriedly ahead of them through their vast park, discussing with each other something in a cheerful voice and laughing, their pearly sounds reaching his ears muffled by the glass.

In his presence, her smile disappeared from her face, her laughter died in her throat and a faint dread coated her, her pupils dilated suddenly, her lips pressed together in fear.

His tall figure standing over her frightened her, his hands folded stiffly behind his back seemed frozen like a stone − unable to make a sound near him, she lowered her gaze quickly, terrified.

One day, however, she dared to take a step towards him − a step towards the unknown, as, realising that he spent every evening by candlelight sitting in their library reading books, she joined him.

He watched her every move vigilantly, not taking his eye off her − her delicate figure strolled around the room in a light, slow motions, her hands folded in front of her in a humble gesture.

He could not express how melancholic and heavenly she looked walking like that in the faint light of the candles, her person seemed as if enveloped in a mist, a glow.

He felt himself to be merely an observer of events, a point to which all her presence referred, being a counterbalance to her subtlety, spread out around her like the blackness of the night that surrounded them.

She looked at him at last, for the first time as if she really wanted to see him, what was inside him, what was inside his heart, inside his mind − he looked at her with empty eye, knowing that there was only nothingness there, an abyss, a coldness without end or measure.

He was surprised at her courage, at how confidently she walked towards him, standing by his side, looking over his shoulder, wanting to see what he was reading.

He did not turn his head behind her − he only watched the shadow of her silhouette out of the corner of his eye − he could feel beside himself the warmth emanating from her body, her scent, the rustling of her gown made him feel a tickle in his fingers.

"Machiavelli. What a brutal choice." She whispered, but there was no disapproval or judgement in her word, more a soft surprise − there was something in the way she said the last sentence, in the way the tip of her tongue clicked as she uttered the syllables, that made him lick his lower lip involuntarily, turning the page.

"Brutal?" He asked lowly, hearing the timbre of his own voice, glassy, cutting like a blade, clear, assured, cool.

He heard her swallow quietly and draw in the air, her body standing beside him somehow enveloping him in her existence, pleasantly teasing all his senses.

"Cesare Borgia was his ideal of a ruler. That says enough about him." She said lowly − he heard her avert her gaze thoughtfully, looking at some point in the distance.

Involuntarily, the tip of his tongue ran over his lower lip, moistening it − he grinned at her words, shifting in his seat.

"They are both no longer among us and have no way to defend themselves from your cruel judgement." He murmured softly, lifting his eyes to her at last.

Their gazes crossed, her eyes at once full of uncertainty and curiosity − he had the feeling that her figure was quivering and trembling, too filled with life, the desire to breathe, to move, to feel.

They looked at each other and he knew that they had both experienced this when he first saw her, when they were unable to stop, when they both realised that something was happening between them that they could not tell anyone about.

He didn't know how it happened, what moved his loins to stand up, towering over her to grab her with ease and seat her on the table. He decided that it was just purest curiosity, as his fingertips ran over her shoulder, over that gorgeous arm, and traveled up the hill of the length of her neck, his hand tightened around it, again, merely in curiosity, and he found to his surprise that it fit there perfectly.

He looked at her face, into her eyes glittering like the most expensive precious stones darkened by the veil of her lashes, looking at him hazy, hesitant, at once fearful and devoted, wanting and demanding. When he took a step towards her her thighs spread in front of him like a book, as if it were the most natural of reflexes that didn't even surprise him.

Without letting go of her gorgeous neck he began to travel and explore the mysterious nooks and crannies of her body occupying his mind, the finger of his free hand lifting tentatively the material of her gown and her petticoat, running over her ankle covered from him by the soft material.

He ran his hand upwards, higher and higher, as if running his finger over to the surface of the water, until he reached the soft, surprisingly hot skin of her naked thigh and they both parted their lips, looking at each other wordlessly, breathing deeply.

His fingers ran over her flesh as if it were the keys of a piano, pressing her skin, and made their way to what was between her thighs, to what he could feel the pulsing heat from, the source of her trembling, of her sleepless nights.

She let out a shuddering, sweet sigh as he touched her there and found her sticky moisture, with circular motions collecting it on his fingers, both of them looking at each other as if surprised by this discovery, this disturbing, intimate act.

With each movement of his fingers, with each circle across her warmth, her thighs spread wider and wider in front of him, her body finding support on her palms placed on the table top, her breasts hidden under her gown rising and falling, her hips beginning to meet his movements.

He had the feeling that they were both in a trance, that they didn't understand what they were doing and didn't want to understand it − they weren't thinking about it or judging it, they were simply discovering a new experience, testing the taste of the sweet, unspoken secret that hid deep between her thighs, the loud, shameless click of her wetness accompanying every flick of his hand.

He licked his lips when at last the tip of his finger met the tight slit between her folds which throbbed with heat, wet and pulsing. Encouraged by this intriguing discovery, he slid his finger there, wanting to see what she felt like inside − he found with interest that her core was rough and fleshy, throbbing and slick, clenching steadily on his skin, her head arched back with a cry of exertion.

He slid his finger deeper, feeling it stretch her entire structure, pushing deep into her flesh, and a quiet, ungodly mewl erupted from her lips, her eyes clenched, her mouth parted in something akin to elation, delight.

He felt his body react, a pleasant heat and pulsation in his erection, the same as he felt inside her − he thought they were like two parts of the same thing, like two sides of the same story, beginning and end, day and night, sun and moon.

Just as everything had its companion, just as the world had for centuries misunderstood the nature of loneliness, telling people to discover the joys of living with someone, man and woman were destined to explore themselves with amazement.

He slipped his finger out of her and, with a light, unhurried movement, untied the fabric of his breeches, lowering them slightly so that she could not see what was beneath them, hiding that sickeningly physical, animalistic sight beneath her gown.

She knew what was about to happen, and though she didn't understand it, she felt subconsciously that from the moment they looked at each other they were destined to connect, to take something and give something to each other.

She trembled all over as he directed the tip of his length with his palm against her burning, hot entrance, her body instantly refusing this sudden, unholy act of divine violation.

"− don't −" He hissed coolly, and she froze, looking at him tearfully, letting him force the pink head of his erection, dripping with his moisture, inside her.

With surprising patience and devotion she endured the discomfort of fitting him inside her, a weary, helpless sob came from her lips − he opened her slowly on his manhood, bit by bit, stretching her tight muscles, sinking into the warmth of her flesh.

He realised suddenly that he was inside her, that he was her and she was him.

That they were a whole, that he would never be complete again without her.

His hand tightened around her neck and did not let her escape, slamming into her with a quiet grunt of sickening pleasure, sliding into her so deeply that she throbbed, seeking fulfillment in it, any kind of relief.

He gave in to his animal instinct, the feeling that he craved to rub against her, craved for her to squeeze him, craved to move inside her − the thrusts of his hips were violent, intense, deep, sure, as if taking her, filling her with himself again and again, physical stretching of her body with his flesh was written into his nature.

Their bodies pounded against each other with wet, loud clicks of her moisture as if they were fighting, as if he was about to pierce her with himself − her head was tilted back, her expression showing simultaneous delight and horror at this unexpectedly pleasurable act.

She was panting along with him, giving herself over completely to his brutal thrusts, needed to be filled, to be satisfied.

"− you won't escape from me − you know that, don't you? − I'm going to fill you −" He growled between one quick, hard slap of his hips and the next, and she only mewled a desperate plea, refusing and at the same time asking him to do it, writhing beneath him, her face all flushed with pleasure.

"− no − please − God, forgive me −" She cried out with difficulty, tears of effort, pain and delight running down her cheeks, her body leaning back, surrendering at last.

He felt her insides suddenly clench violently against him and begin to convulse, a moan of sweet suffering came from her lips, her body shook with a wave of something he was yet to understand.

This sight made him speed up instead of slowing down, feeling that something was about to happen, that he was already so close.

"− yes − don't resist me − fuck! −" He cursed for the first time in his life, feeling that his whole body was in a hot frenzy, his hips moving deep inside her throughout her fulfilment, her hands trying fruitlessly to push him away with her loud, broken moans, unable to take any more, overstimulated and sensitive.

He made a low, throaty, animalistic sound as a wave of pleasure shook him − he felt his own fluid spilling over her insides, filling her like wine fills a chalice, and he thought it made him feel the most natural reflex in his life, the filling and that she felt exactly the same way about the sensation of being filled, as if it was her primal, most important need.

Not to be empty.

They stared at each other, breathing loudly, feeling the fog around them begin to blur and disappear, their vision began to sharpen, their cool judgement returned to their minds, and with horror they realised at last what they had done.

They pulled away from each other in pain, both feeling that the fact that they were no longer one was unnatural, ungodly, against some fundamental law.

They were incomplete again.

They were imperfect again.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as she corrected her gown in despair − she stepped down from the table and ran out of the room with a loud, broken sob, terrified of their act, of what consequences it might bring.

He tied his breeches back, sitting down in his chair with difficulty and listened to the intense pounding of his heart, staring blankly ahead, trying to calm his breathing, feeling more empty than ever.

Over the next few days she avoided him again, her face even paler than when he first saw her − he had the feeling that she was in a progressive agony, that she was dying before his eyes.

Wanting to put an end to their torment, one morning he moved after her, seeing that she had gone for a walk through their park, and asked for her hand.

Only then did she confess to him, crying with unspeakable pain, that her fiancé had been waiting for her for weeks.

He felt like he had fallen into a state of complete emptiness and wasn't sure he understood her words.

He even thought they were amusing as he sat in the living room, taking a sip of wine from his glass, chuckling under his breath, much to the consternation of those gathered.

It wasn't until several hours later that people began to be concerned about her disappearance.

He took no part in the search.

As he walked down the corridor of his mansion in the evening heading towards his room, he looked at the appraising faces of his grandparents, their eyes seemingly bulging, terrified, their lips clenched as if in rage.

He began to rip portrait after portrait off the wall, destroying frames and canvases, causing a commotion all around him − his mother tried to calm him down, but he broke free from her embrace.

It was only when he walked into his bedroom that he noticed her silhouette, pale and corpse-like, her eyes wide open, looking towards the door as if she was waiting for him, his bedclothes all covered in her blood.

He saw out of the corner of his eye an open window facing straight into their park and realised that she had broken in here, taken his letter knife and slit her wrists.

He approached her slowly, feeling the pounding of his heart, the sweat on the back of his neck as he noticed the bruises on her neck, a clear marks matching his hands that he was sure he hadn't seen when he had spoken to her that morning.

How could that be?

He glanced at the floor out of the corner of his eye and saw his shirt, all dirty from the sand and grass.

He began to breathe deeply, feeling the whole room swirl around him.

He pushed from his mind the sight of her terrified face, the sight of her tears when she fell with him to the ground, when he told her that he was empty without her, that he had filled her with himself and she could not be anyone else's, just as he could never be anyone else's again.

It seemed to him that she had come to terms with his words, for she stopped struggling, looking at him with affection, and he praised and comforted her, telling her that the end would come soon, that she would fall asleep, that she would not be in pain.

When she stopped moving and fainted he took her body in his arms, numb and spilling in his fingers, and walked as if in a trance through his open window into his bedroom.

He laid her on his bed, where she belonged, right beside him, and left, longing to return to her in the night, believing that she had fallen into an eternal sleep.

She woke up.

She finished his work.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

[gold-snek-hoe]

Hello and welcome to Opinions from an Internet Nobody. Today's essay:

"Ger therapy" is the new "You need Jesus": One Weirdo's Navigation through Cultural Shame

This is a supposedly well-meaning sentiment that is often weaponized against people who are behaving outside of perceived cultural norms. It's a favorite of homophobes who see queerness/transness as a mental illness, but I've been seeing it used to demonize kink (which historically is often linked to queerness), and more generally any "weird" behavior that makes people uncomfortable.

For example, otherkin, systems (especially those with fictives), and people who take fictional characters as partners. Y'know, "weirdos" who "can't separate reality from fiction." And, sure, sometimes there can be a problem with that distinction, but I know as well as you that most internet strangers saying "get therapy" don't actually give a shit about the mental health of those they target. It's code for "your behavior makes me uncomfortable, stop it."

Same sentiment as "you need Jesus."

This has actually taken me a long time to figure out. I've been in therapy for my entire adult life, working through various traumas, severe depression, anxiety, all that. Those were the biggest problems as they negatively impacted, and often endangered, my life. It was only after my hospitalization in 2020, where I was finally put on much needed medication, that I could start to grow into myself.

I changed my name. I top surgery. I came out as polyamorous. I finally got my official autism diagnosis. Now I'm fuckin' married! But... there are still things I'm working through in therapy. Mainly, shame over my "weirder" behaviors. My current therapist has been a huge blessing in helping me accept the things I was too ashamed to admit.

Now, I feel comfortable enough to share.

I'm otherkin. Always have been. My connection to my humanity is tenuous, and I'm sure that's connected to my autism. When mad, I feel phantom horns sprouting from my forehead. I have a tail that swishes back and forth at the base of my spine. In my soul, I am monstrous, and years of therapy has not erased that.

I feel like I'm only half in the physical world most of the time. This doesn't hinder my real-world success (I graduated college Summa Cum Laude, have an IMDB page, and am on my third book), but informs the way I look at the world. There's a whole other universe in my head that hums along with me in my day-to-day. That's part of why I'm so skilled as a writer. To ask me to divorce from that is to tell me to stop existing. Sorry, it's how I've always operated.

Lastly, and this is the one I'm really anxious about, I have a fictional husband. Now, looking at my blog, you might say "yeah, no shit," but I don't just ship myself with him. I mean I practice pop-culture Witchcraft, and the Goblin King is my patron. I mean I have a Labyrinth-themed tarot deck that I talk to him with. I mean I held a ritual to spiritually marry him. Basically, I Snape-wived myself.

And guess what? My therapist isn't concerned. It's not hurting my ability to live my life. I have other interests, hobbies, and goals outside of him, which he actively encourages in all our tarot sessions! I wouldn't be doing this if he didn't support me. My IRL spouse is usually there for whatever magical shit I'm doing, and supports me! Some of my closest friends know, and the only complaint I've gotten is "this guy seems important to you, I wish you told me sooner." Hell, my MOTHER knows and supports me, which is huge, because our relationship was pretty damaged after I came out as trans.

If you have a problem with the way I live my life, when literally nobody else does, take a good long look at why. You don't give a fuck about my mental health. You just don't like that I'm weird.

Tl;dr: My mental health is better than it's ever been since embracing the weird, so leave me and my imaginary husband Marak Sixfinger alone.

[analumina]

I wrote a little something.

~~~~~~

The descend was longer than he had presumed. How long had it been since he last saw the stars? The nebulas? The constellations he was so proud of creating? How long since he last felt gleeful and holy?

He closed his eyes and grabbed onto his chest where he could still feel the phantom hand, the sacred hand, that had pushed him. He didn't deserve it, the push, he thought. If need be he was ready to go willingly. There was no need for the humiliation. That push was made for a good laugh, it must've been, otherwise why do such an act?

Did he regret it? He pondered.

Regret being able to create something wonderful. Regret feeling that constant content feeling since his own creation. Regret everything he was hoping for. Regret asking all those questions. He should have, he smirked as it was the cause of his condemned outcome.

Slowly, he opened his eyes to a changing scenery where gone was anything and everything he was used to. He felt as if he had fallen into an oubliette; no end in sight, only darkness. Meanwhile, he began to pick at his skin as it began to feel hot and intolerable. It was a new sensation, he did not even know the word for it. Moments would go by until he understood pain was the word for what he was going through.

The lower he fell, the less worthy he felt. The more pain he felt. The hotter it became. “Please.” He blinked his tears away, tears he was not aware had come to be. It was unbearable. The push, the regrets, the darkness, the pain…the heat.

He let out a small gasp as he noticed his pristine wings blending into the darkness. He thrashed, wanting nothing to do with the transpiring result; however, just before the heat consumed him, before he felt completely hopeless and unwanted, a small light invaded the darkness. Heat turned into warmth as the feeling of pain turned into something lively.

He blinked and blinked until a dimmed light made itself known. He felt soft hands on his cheek, wiping away his lament. His mouth felt dry as he looked up and met soft eyes. “You're having a nightmare, my dear.” His forehead was kissed. “It's alright. I'm here.”

“Angel?” He sounded hoarse.

The angel smiled down upon him with an adoring expression. “You'll be alright.” He pulled him in closer. “I'm here. I will always be here.”

He sniffed and buried himself into the angel’s comfort. “Don't…leave me.” He shuddered at the thought.

“Would not dare think of it.”

He didn't know when it happened but one minute all he could hear was the ticking of a clock, and words of affirmation, the next, he was in that one bookshop in Soho. That one place where he could feel solace, not solely because of the atmosphere, but because of a nonjudgmental angel who he had come to love and who had loved him in return, questions and all.

Did he regret it? He pondered once more as he smiled at his angel who was far too busy informing him of his day. If being pushed meant meeting his light, his comfort, his purpose, his love, he would gladly fall a million times again.

—

The angel looked down at a now sleeping demon on his chest. He ran gentle fingers through the demon's red locks while his other hand sought out his hand. He entwined his fingers with the demon's left hand, and brought his knuckles to his lips. “I love you, Crowley.” He kissed the small silver band on the demon's ring finger and continued to hush his husband's once upon a time aching memories.

[celestialdragoncookie]

Have ever dark dragon and dark shadow cried what will dark cacao do

" The Shattered Resolve":

Dark Dragon Cacao cookie it's not the type of guy to in state of broken mess nor pitiful mood, during those years of hardcore or hellish training his resolve and personality hardened making an impregnable steel wall heart. If others, his opponents taunt or degrading him with harmful and disgusting words or vocabulary he wouldn't be shaken nor move an inches usually glare his opponents to death mumbling he wasn't worth my time at all. But his resolve or hardened expression and spirited will will only be broken down when his family especially his father Yorrichi Tsukagami whom he looked up to said with disappointment and indifference your a disappointment and a failure of being my son or if one of his brothers labeled him a monster it will critical hit towards his feelings especially his heart but the most critical arrow was his beloved wife Blizzard Queen Cookie, if he would try to affectionate she said with colder chiller tone how pathetic for to be my husband, how useless monster of you are. This would directly shattered his heart especially his emotions as he would literally be a crying mess, Dragons are aggressive to others but tender to thier mates if those mates act aggressive use degrading words it will leave a scar on thier heart and they will die of heartbreak alone. So he will cry alone in his room as his younger brother Dark cacao cookie will be thier to console him trying his best cheer him, his tulip purple eyes will softened and filled with worry for his brothers shattered heart broken state.

Just like his father, he too walk through the path of hellish training to hardened his mind, will and resolve. But no matter how his opponents or enemies taunt he wouldn't budge a bit, but his will and iron resolve will only be broken down by his family especially his beloved mother and his dearest wife Starlight star cookie. At his freshly young age, due to his appearance his mother accidentally mistook him for a "IT" clown because she has a phobia of clowns calling him a monster clown which broken his tiny heart. Due to that incident he would be sensitive about his appearance if someone question it, he wouldn't show that weakness Infront of everyone but his phantom eyes gave away. One-day due to stress, his wife Starlight star cookie throw out all of her stress and depression in the form of wrath and rage Infront of him but one sentence broke his resolve and will leaving him a whimpering state " pathetic king of a monster clown, I wish you weren't my husband so useless". Hearing that he left the throne room in a whimpering and crying mess outside the courtyard he cry his heart out, standing besides him was his eldest cousin Dark Choco Cookie his one good crimson red eye staring at him with pity, worry especially sadness like his father he would try to encourage and console the tender giant of the cookie. Dark Choco Cookie go through such phase so he will try his best to gave his elder cousin some advice and encouragement.

[haleswallows]

OOOOOO

Teaser:

“Unable to sleep?” he murmured. Tim nodded, looking about for somewhere to sit. “Here.” And Phantom stood, offering his rock. Tim hesitated for a moment, but decided he was too tired to think about it very hard or pick apart Phantom’s behavior. He dropped onto it, finding it pleasantly warmed from the fire.

No wonder Phantom had been sitting here.

He blinked blearily into the fire, his mind slowly spinning up to consciousness. When a heavy woolen cloak was draped over his shoulder, Tim startled badly.

“Sorry to surprise you. Didn’t want you to get cold.” The press of night demanded hushed voices, and Phantom’s baritone was pitched low.

Tim slowly wrapped his hands into the material. It was worn, well-traveled, but lovingly cared for. The thickness of it quickly helped trap the heat of the fire and Tim found himself warming quickly. Waking his vocal cords, Tim whispered a thanks.

“No need. I don’t suffer from the cold as others do,” Phantom explained.

“Ice magic?” The man - his husband, Tim reminded himself - nodded at the question. “You also could not sleep?”

Phantom dropped to the ground, leaning back on his hands. He slowly stretched his legs out before him and frowned at the fire. “This body does not require much rest.”

This body. As if it was not his own. Tim frowned. The odd statement stuck in his mind, noting something strange, almost melancholy in Phantom’s tone.

“A good night to be sleepless,” Phantom spoke up again. He gestured broadly to the night sky. “No clouds, the stars are beautiful.”

“I never studied the stars much.” Tim followed the sweep of Phantom’s arm, stunned at the sight of the sky speckled densely with stars. “Do you know the constellations? I’ve never had an eye to find them.”

He didn’t notice Phantom standing, or coming to sit as close as he could to Tim as possible. “Here, follow my hand.” Tim leaned forward at his command, his face just a scant breadth from Phantom's, the man’s hair tickled his ear. With an unfathomable patience, Phantom pointed from constellation to constellation, naming them in turn. Moved on only when Tim finally could see the vague shapes.

For once in his life, Tim understood why people stargazed.

“And there, the brightest star.” Tim followed his hand. “Aquila, the guiding Northern star.”

It was hard to miss. He nodded. Phantom let his arm fall, which was when Tim noticed how close they were seated. Slowly, he withdrew.

“Aquila?” Tim asked, hoping it would be a distraction from their nearness.

Phantom hummed, eyes trained on the star. “I named him when we were bonded. Dragons have their own names, but they’re unspeakable by human vocal chords. I needed something to call him, I like the stars. Thus, Aquila.”

There was probably something poetic in there, the dragon being Phantom’s guiding star. But Tim wasn’t a poetic soul. In fact, he was probably allergic to poetry and anything romantic. Suddenly, he felt very awkward. Why would Phantom share this with him? Sure, they were married but… it was for the treaty. It wasn’t real.

“It’s late.” Tim struggled to find his voice.

Standing, Phantom rolled his shoulders. Even in the loose shirt, Tim should see his muscles bunch and shift. Although he was watching the other man closely, it still surprised him Phantom pressed the back of his hand against Tim’s forehead, cool against his own skin.

“You were overly tired earlier. I worry about sunstroke. There’s not a lot of shade on the roads. We should make sure you have extra water tomorrow.” He paused. Tim realized he was holding his breath. “No fever though, that’s a good sign.”

“Oh. Good.” The hand withdrew, and Tim felt the tension fly out of his body. “I would hate to be a burden.”

“There is no ‘burden’ when it comes to you, Your Highness. You are my husband. We should rest some before the morning. Tomorrow will be another long day.”

Phantom offered his hand. The firelight flickered over his bare skin, highlighting faded scars on his forearms where the sleeves hung loose. Slowly, Tim placed his hand in Phantom’s, wondering again at how much cooler Phantom’s flesh was. 

He allowed himself to be led back to the tent, feeling like a maiden about to be bedded. But Phantom was as gentlemanly as ever, releasing Tim’s hand as soon as they were inside. Tim settled under the plush furred blankets, curling his arms against his chest. Ignoring the way his hand tingled and watching Phantom lay back on his own cot, on top of his own blankets.

“Goodnight, Phantom.”

[not-my-final-account]

A Ghost Can Still Grieve

“After centuries of protecting Amity Park the residents started to notice a pattern in Phantom. He would be there to fight for them everyday, except for one day. No matter what happens, he would never show up! And it was the same date every year, the 31st of October.

So the residents of Amity Park dressed up as ghosts every year on the 31st of October, hoping this would stop ghost attacks or lure Phantom out or something else. Nobody really knew how exactly it started just that it did and it was because of Phantoms disappearance. That is how the 31st of October because Phantoms day.” I said mysteriously

“Does he really not show up on Phantoms day?” Tucker asked worriedly “I though it was just called that because we were honouring him and everything he’s done for us.”

“Yeah, that’s one of the reasons it might of started. They thought that if we didn’t do it every year he’d think we’d forgotten about him and move on. But seriously, he never shows up and no one knows why.” I said

“Sam! Why are we going to a grave yard on the one day Phantom isn’t here to protect us from ghosts!?” Tucker yelled

“Sush, don’t be disrespectful and yell.” I said as we walked into the graveyard.

“Then why are we here?!?” Tucker whispered loudly, I rolled my eyes.

“We’ll be fine, come on Tucker. We come here everyday to hang out, just because it’s Phantoms day doesn’t mean a ghost is randomly going to show up.” I said, as I finished speaking we arrived at the tree we hung out at everyday before and after school. Bullies didn’t beat us up here because once a mugging happened in a grave yard and Phantom gave the guy so many bruises he looked like a ghost, respect for the dead I assumed but what ever it was we could at least stall until we got onto school grounds.

Tucker pulled out a salami sandwich and started chewing

“Eating isn’t disrespectful is it?” Tucker asked me

“Not unless you’re being rude about it.” I replied. We sat there for a while and talked about various topics, most related to graveyards or Phantom. It was relaxing and quiet which was a nice contrast to school.

Suddenly a figure flew down to some of the graves

“Is that Phantom!?” Tucker whispered

“I think so.” I whispered back

“But it’s you just said this is the one day he never shows up!” Tucker whisper-yelled

“I know!” I whispered, I stood up determinedly “Come on.” I said and I began pulling Tucker to Phantom

“But that’s Danny Phantom! This is such a bad idea!” Tucker squeaked

“He doesn’t even hurt the ghosts he stops. He’s a good guy. Good guys don’t hurt kids.” I said back

“Quiet!” Tucker whisper-yelled

“I’m sure he’s heard us by now.“ I said. I walked up behind him and looked at the graves in front of Phantom, there were four graves: John Fenton a beloved father and husband, Maddie Fenton a beloved mother and wife, Jasmine Fenton beloved daughter and sister, Daniel Fenton beloved son and brother.

Phantom had already started cleaning Jasmines grave and I noticed that while John, Maddie and Jasmines graves all had evidence of being cleaned each year but Daniels had years of grime and muck on it, Phantom had also only brought three flowers “Why not Daniel too?” I asked Phantom

“You don’t honour your own grave.” he said. Danny Phantom, Daniel Fenton, oh.

“Sorry.” I said, Tucker hesitated then spoke up

“How did you die? It doesn’t say.” Tucker said

“Mum and Dad were scientists and/or ghost hunters. I was cleaning Mum and Dads ghost portal, Dad insisted safety for situations like this wasn’t necessary and I accidentally turned it on. Activating it when it wasn’t ready made an explosion that killed them but I was in the portal, it saved me from the explosion but activated and killed me anyways. However the nature of my death meant I was different.” Phantom said

“I’m sorry.” me and Tucker said in unison

“It was years ago,” Phantom sighed “Just don’t ask any other ghost that question. Trauma and all.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Tucker said with a wince.

…

The next year when Phantom visited the graves of himself and his family he found his grave cleaned with black, white, and green roses left on it.

By the way, I don’t know what the cannon date of his death is so the Halloween thing is just made it up.

[cinmngirlnfr]

Juan Borgia Arranged Marriage Headcanons

Note: I'm trying to make this as close to the show as possible (Juan being an asshole) I in fact can't fix him. Shout out to the Phantom of the Opera. Also, I'm sorry if there are any mistakes, english is not my first lenguage.

Summary: It is 1493, Rome. After a long friendship with Lucrezia Borgia, where you spent most of your childhood at her house, so much, so that Venozza and the Holy Father himself started seeing you as their child. When The Pope was looking for a spouse for his second son, naturally, you were the first to cross his mind. Your parents of course showed no opposition. It seemed perfect, The only problem? You and Juan Borgia had hated each other since you first met all those years ago

Warning: Allusions to sex, Allusions to sexual violence, violence.

.

.

.

.

ENGAGED

When your parents told you about the arrangement, you wanted to puke. Juan Borgia was the last man on earth you would like to marry, and even if he was the last man on earth, you were not sure if you would take him.

Lucrezia was delighted, finally, she would have you as her sister. At least you would get something good out of this.

When Juan first heard of this, he was enraged, he wanted to marry a princess! Someone up to his level, not his sister's annoying best friend.

It was very weird at first, you had always seen each other as brother and sister, you grew up together, and grew irritated and annoyed by everything the other did.

Venozza would be basically the only one planning the wedding, although she asked for your and Juan's opinions, both of you would just say yes to anything with hopes of the whole ordeal being over.

I think the only thing Juan would be interested in picking, is the entertainment, like he did at Lucrezia's wedding.

Juan didn't think you were ugly, but the image of spending the rest of his life with you would make him want to drown himself.

I imagine the Pope hosting many events to present you guys as a couple, but also, he had an agenda of making the two of you like each other.

In these gatherings, you were very polite to the guests, and both your parents and Juan had instructed you to act in love. Juan already had a reputation in Rome, and the way the Pope to such the rumors, was by creating a love story where his son was in the center.

Your fake smiles to your betrothed were clear. The problem lay when Juan had too many glasses of wine and started to hug you by the neck and kiss your cheeks, screaming in a mocking tone "OH MY SWEET WIFE TO BE!" You were beyond annoyed.

WEDDING DAY

Juan gets very drunk.

He will flirt with the actresses he hired.

You would probably be sitting annoyed on a table, sipping wine and eating bread, contemplating your future with the man who is currently drunkenly singing on top of a table.

The first dance was awkward as fuck.

Although Juan is not able to deny how beautiful you look in that wedding dress, and how good you would look without it.

Is he actually getting impatient for the wedding night?

However, he keeps drinking. It's a celebration! There is not such a thing as "Too much wine."

WEDDING NIGHT

You were young, and this was the Renaissance, there wasn't much sex ED.

You actually were not sure what to expect, your mom had told you that intimacy was painful, and the nuns had told you that it was only meant for procreation and to serve your husband.

You had been told that you could never say NO to your husband in any context, but especially not on this.

So naturally, you were confused but relieved when Juan Borgia was too drunk to even stand on his two feet, let alone consummate a marriage.

You tried to guide him to the bed, but he was much bigger than you.

He fell on the bed dragging you with him, leaving you trapped between his semi-unconscious body and the mattress.

"Look at my pretty wife..." He mumbled, and you rolled your eyes.

Somehow you managed to get him on his back and release yourself.

"Good night, Borgia" you sighed once you finally were able to get comfortable.

You thought he was done bothering you for the night.

Boy, you were wrong.

Hours later, the sun was starting to rise, and you woke up, by a slightly less drunken Juan Borgia on top of you, kissing your neck.

The sensation was strange... Not bad, almost ticklish. It made you want to giggle, GIGGLE! FOR JUAN BORGIA!

"What are you doing?" you ask confused.

"Finishing the task we had last night..."

And so he did... Let's just say, intimacy was way better than your mom and the nuns had described it.

MARRIED LIFE

Every hour he had, every second he spared, was to either think about doing you or actually doing you.

God! You were so annoying, acting all bratty, and making his life impossible.

He still couldn't keep your naked body, or your soft whimpers out of his mind.

At first, it was pure lust, it really was.

You both kept the same dynamic of annoying each other, yet there was a new element, sex.

When intimate life is that good, when the bed chemistry is so powerful when all the lust is only fueled by hatred, and of course, being no condoms at the time, it wasn't a surprise that you got pregnant very fast.

Yes, Juan pretended he didn't care for you.

Seeing you pregnant with his child tho... That fucked with his brain chemistry a bit.

Why did he suddenly want to hold you? He felt disgusted with himself.

Before this, all the sinful thoughts he had about you were fulled by the need to ruin you, to corrupt you, almost to make you submit to him since he knew that in any other way, even if it was hard for him to admit, you could easily outsmart him.

But now... He wanted to protect you, to make sure you never suffered again.

He realized he was down bad when you asked him to join you in a walk around the town.

He didn't want, for you to expose yourself like that, but he would have never admitted to you that he cared for your well-being.

He followed you closely, while you gracefully walked around the plaza rubbing your belly.

And it all went downhill, when a man, a peasant, walked your way and tried to touch your belly without your consent.

You politely tried to get away, but the man kept harassing you.

The next thing you saw was your husband beating the man to death, while he yelled things about, how dared a peasant even look at a noblewoman.

I mean, he was the head of the papal army, no one blinked an eye.

He then realized he would kill for you, he had done it, and he would do it again without hesitating.

The next time he realized how much he cared for you was when your son was born.

Then he realized, when you held that baby in your arms, sitting in the bed next to him, humming a sweet song for the child to calm down. He realized that what he felt for you was love.

[fwitolei]

The Dragon Prince Thoughts 6x09 - Stardust

Previous Episode // Masterlist // Next Episode

Join the Taglist

Spoilers under the cut

“I called her my ‘unicorn’”

Okay why the FUCK are we starting with a villain backstory that I already know is gonna end horribly because he’s talking about his daughter in past tense

*mentally preparing*

*dEEp sigh*

*grabs tissues* Okay here we go

“Her name was Leola”

THE LOVE IN HIS EYES UGH—

ALSO leola’s last wish? The starr???

Woah runaan what happened to you—

It’s like ttm when the other moonshadow elves were in their phantom forms attacking rayla

Oh wait why aren’t tiadrin and lain like that—

Ooh maybe cuz runaan and the other elves had unfinished business maybe rayla’s parents were at peace when they died

That is a BIG BOOK what—

OMG SO THE CUBE DOES DO STUFF

I wonder what that book is and where it is now

“There is proof. A witness… Anak Arao”

Are you telling me that a little child got arrested for breaking the flow of the universe because a fuckass dragon saw her FLOATING R O C K S in front of a human—

wait if leola gave PRIMAL magic to humans (cuz dark magic didn't exist at the time) is that why callum can do magic???

“If you so choose, you may die alongside your daughter.”

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

WHAT KIND OF MERCY IS THAT

“It was rescued? By who?”

“Me.”

Bro she waited so long to say that lol—

“We love you, Rayla.”

I’m glad she decided to let her parents go

That way they can stay together instead of ripping one of them from death and having them spend the rest of their life without the other

And it’s also like does she choose mom or dad yk this way she doesn’t have to make that choice

“There’s nothing to fear. Close your eyes.”

OMG STOP this shit is wild

I feel so bad for aaravos this is not okay—

he was such a good father he's a completely different person now

istg the dad's in this show L O V E their daughters ugh

THEY FUCKING ATOMIZED HER

NOOOOOOOOOO

Oh look the star on his chest is black and upside down now

So he became the “fallen star” because of Leola’s death

FUCK OFF MERCIFUL ONE

Nah that line official kicked off his villain arc that’s for sure

“Ethari.”

AWWWW STOPPPPPP

The cheezy romance in this show is top tier ugh—

“I’m your daughter.”

GAWD THAT WAS CLOSE

Yuhhh tiadrin and lain were together but ethari’s all alone he needs his husband back 😭

Runaan isn’t done with xadia he wasn’t supposed to die I bet that’s why he was that angry phantom thingy

“He isn’t doing anything for love, he’s doing it for revenge.”

YES TERRY talk her down

Even thought aaravos has EVERY RIGHT to get revenge on those fuckers

YAYY RUNAAN’S BACK

What’s up with the coin why’s callum examining it like that

“Is that…Katolis?”

OOP he found out—

OMG EZRAN FOUND OUT TOO

welp time for the brothers to spiral together in to self-deprecation and blame—

Aaravos getting his anime-girl transformation

Omg he’s hERE aaahhhhhhhh

OH MY GOSH HE’S HUGE

WHAT

Why’s he so HUGE now wtf—

He wasn’t that huge in the flashback—

Oooooohhhh my gosh—

Oooooomgggggggggggg the shock factor in this season was C R A Z Y. Aaravos is out and he’s ready to wreak havoc that is def gonna be interesting. I get the feeling Terry’s gonna join Team Zym because he’s not so invested in aaravos’s plans and whatnot and i think he’s gonna wanna try save claudia. Callum is gonna FLIP OUT when he finds out that aaravos is out and he took the candy to the starscraper that’s gonna be bad. And EZRAN TOOO we never see ezran so worked up like we did this season and i’m scared and a little curious to see how he’s gonna be now that katolis is pretty much destroyed. But hey only 3 months until s7 :P

[luneemeritus]

Love Never Dies slander because I can (it's ok if you like the show, I'm just giving my personal opinion)

The wasted potential of Love Never Dies haunts me.

Because a sequel to the musical is not a bad idea, actually. But writing an adaptation of "Phantom of Manhattan" (very famous for being horribly written) was definitely a terrible one.

Andrew basically wrote a bad E/C fanfiction that ignores completely Erik's redemption (and obviously, his past terrible actions) and Christine's arc of empathy and indepedence. Meg Giry and her mother became villains for some reason? And they have the worst swerfy slutshaming against Meg, really disgusting. Gustave is a useless character, he only exists to bring Erik and Christine together (Beneath a Moonless Sky woulndt exist without him, I don't know if that's a bad or a good thing). And, even though I heavily dislike Raoul, I agree that it's pathetic what they did to him. Raoul became an alcoholic caricature of himself that mistreats both Christine and his son for no reason other to make Erik look better. Again, I don't like Raoul, I also think he's toxic and he could be portrayed REALISTICALLY as a bad husband. But not like that lol

And, like. What is the purpose of erasing Erik's redemption and giving him Christine's (and Gustave's) love as a prize if you make him even worse? This Erik abandoned Christine after FUCKING HER. He and Raoul make a bet over owning Christine like if she is some kind of object. This Erik is horrible to Giry, which makes no sense, he even creates a freakshow and exploits disabled people??? Literally what has done to him in the past??? Also, Erik being a rich business man with little to no social struggles is so ridiculously out of character lol. "Mister Y" doesn't act like Erik himself.

The ending is straight up bullshit. It's too ridiculous and irritating to be tragic. Christine has absolutely no agency in LND, her entire arc is choosing between her boring alcoholic husband or the teacher that abandoned her after fucking her 10 years ago (not to mention that Erik's past mistakes, like, idk, maybe KIDNAPPING HER, killing Piangi and Buquet, is not even mentioned. No one remembers that). And then she sings a pretty song, chooses Erik, and dies. Wow. Amazing. She dies by accident by the way, because Meg shot her... unintentionally? Depending on the actress, I think. I won't even talk too much about Meg's character assassination because it just frustates me. "Oh the deranged sex worker that is punished with abandonment and pain by the end". Ugh.

The songs are amazing though. This I can't deny, even like, Bathing Beauty, it has nothing to do with POTO but it's a good song honestly.

Love Never Dies could be a good sequel. Erik trying to make amends for his mistakes, having terrible coping mechanism (as always), maybe they could explore his relationship with Madame Giry (even if she is depicted as a morally grey character). Christine realizing that she and Raoul were too young when they made the decision to marry, and that she has much more potential than what the victorian patriarchal society has to offer her. It could even end with E/C being canon, but like, with actual development??? Him learning how to behave apropriately, actually healing and being a better partner? (because he doesn't grow in Love Never Dies, he just gets Christine for sometime before she dies, he learns nothing, he just becomes an asshole that is portrayed as the good guy 'cause "Raoul is worse")

[catindabag]

TBOSAS on Crack short take (52)

*Mizzen’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Night* Read [this] first.

Mizzen: *is singing to himself* 🎶C’mon, Percy Price, C’mon~. I need my bacon pizzas~. I need them now~. I need my bacon-🎶

Dill: Hey, gremlin, what are you doing? And why are you singing about pizzas in the middle of the night?

Mizzen: WTH, Dill?! Don’t sneak up on me like that! My heart might explode!

Dill: Shouldn’t you be sleeping right now?

Mizzen: Shouldn’t you?!

Dill: Maybe~. But who are you waiting for at this hour?

Mizzen: Nobody.

Dill: I don’t believe you.

Mizzen: Go back to sleep, Dill.

Dill: No.

Mizzen: Then leave me alone-

Dill: I’ll wake up the others if you won’t tell me the truth.

Mizzen: Dill, just go to sleep-

Dill: Reaper! Tanner! Coral-

Mizzen: Shhhhh!!! What are you doing?! Don’t wake them up-

Lucy Gray: Wake who up?😀

Mizzen: Nobody, Baird! Now shoo-

Jessup: Mizzen, stop shouting-

Mizzen: Close your eyes, Jessie!

Jessup: The name’s Jessup!

Mizzen: Tomato, potato!

Coral: Yo, brat, shut your mouth-

Mizzen: Why are you even awake, Coral?! Can’t you leave poor Mizzen alone for the next 3 hours?!

Coral: Why? You gonna cry?

Mizzen: You guys are so mean to poor Mizzen!😫

Tanner: Says the little gremlin who ate Wovey’s last cookie.😒

Mizzen: She gave it to me!

Bobbin: No, she didn’t, you monster!

Wovey: Is it morning already?

Velvereen: No, sweetie. Go back to sleep.

Wovey: Okay~. *goes back to sleep*

Lucy Gray: Hey, guys, look at that!

Velvereen: Look at what?

Lucy Gray: *points at the upcoming pizza truck* It’s a pizza truck! A pizza truck!

Jessup: A pizza truck? At this hour?

Treech: A real phantom pizza truck?! Where?!

Lucy Gray: There! Right there!

Dill: That’s weird. It’s coming right towards us.

Tanner: The pizza guy sucks at driving though.

Lucy Gray: Lol. It’s now swerving in every direction.

Facet: Is drunk driving even legal in Panem?

Velvereen: Maybe it’s just a Capitol thing.

Tanner: That checks out. Capitol people are weird AF.

Treech: Or maybe it must be another one of Reaper’s fever dreams.

Reaper: Why the f*ck would I dream about swerving trucks and pizzas in the middle of the night, lumberjack?!😡

Treech: Why not, farmer~?😏

Reaper: Who you calling farmer?!

Treech: Farmer Reaper busy kissing his hoe-

Reaper: Do you want me to punch you to the moon and back, Tree Boy?!

Lamina: Treech, shut the f*ck up or I’ll cry!😭

Treech: You’re already crying, Lamina.

Lamina: No, I’m not!😭

Persephone: *suddenly jumps out of the pizza truck* Hi, Mizzen!

Mizzen: Oh, thank Panem! Percy, you’re finally here-

Coryo: *is being princess carried out of the pizza truck by Sejanus* Hi, Birdy! How you doing?

Lucy Gray: Oh, Coryo, you look so cute in those matching pajama onesies with your fiancé!🤭

Coryo: Thanks. My soon to be husband bought it for me.

Lucy Gray: Can I have one too?🥺

Coryo: Sure. We’ll buy you a sparkly one.

Lucy Gray: Yey!

Sejanus: *is still carrying Coryo* Hi, Marcus! How are you-

Marcus: Go away, Plinth! Marcus is still asleep!

Sejanus: But-

Vipsania: Yo, bro, you good?

Treech: I’m good, bro.

Vipsania: Bro, I brought you a box of tiramisu flavored energy bars to devour.

Treech: Nice one, bro!

Vipsania: You’re welcome, bro.

Livia: Hi, ✨bestie✨~! How do I look in my pajama onesie?

Facet: Girl, you look ✨fabulous✨ as always!❤️

Livia: Thanks, ✨bestie✨! You’re the best!

Facet: ✨Girlie✨, I know.😌💅

Juno: Hello again, Peasant Bobby Corn Poppy.

Bobbin: It’s Bobbin.

Juno: Corn Poppy.

Hilarius: Where’s Wovey?

Velvereen: She’s asleep.

Hilarius: But I brought her a box of apple berry pie-

Wovey: I’m awake.

Hilarius: That’s great!

Wovey: Now give me my pie, rich clown.

Hilarius: But Wovey-

Wovey: Pie. Now.

Hilarius: Okay.😞

Felix: Hi, Dill!

Dill: Don’t talk to me, you filthy Ravinstill.

Felix: But-

Reaper: F*ck off and die, Ravinstill!

Felix: Andie, hug me! I’m sad again!😭

Androcles: *hugs Felix* Hey, Panlo, where’s Sheaf?

Panlo: She’s busy sleepwalking with the rabid raccoons.

Androcles: Oh, okay. That’s cool.

Panlo: And Gaius?

Androcles: He’s busy fixing the pizza boxes with Clemensia, Dennis, and Palmyra!

Mizzen: WTH, Percy! Why did you bring the other Mentors with you?! I thought this super secret plan was only between you and me?!

Persephone: It was! Well, it was until we had this super secret ✨slumber party✨ at the Presidential Palace!

Mizzen: You had a super secret slumber party without me?!

Persephone: To be fair, it was a last minute thing. But anyway, here we are!

Mizzen: That doesn’t make sense.😑

Festus: *pops out from the back of the truck* You should be grateful, gremlin! We even had to steal the pizza guy’s truck in order to get here.

Lucy Gray: Nice. But what happened to the pizza guy?

Coryo: Gaius and Dennis knocked him out and tied him up in front of the Presidential Palace.

Jessup: But he’ll be fine, right?

Coryo: Maybe.

Mizzen: So where’s my pizzas and my 10 gallons of milk?

Persephone: At the back of the truck. However, Palmyra chugged all the milk down her throat. So-

Mizzen: That walking anomaly drank 10 gallons of milk without me?!

Persephone: Yeah.😑

Velvereen: I’m not even surprised anymore.

Coral: Yo, Percy Price, how many boxes of pizza did our gremlin ordered anyway?

Persephone: 20 boxes.

Coral: 20 boxes?!

Jessup: For all of us?

Mizzen: No! Not for you! They’re only for me, Jessie!

Jessup: This freaking gremlin-

Mizzen: *screeches like a dinosaur* Only for me!!

Coral: Sharing is caring, brat!

Mizzen: Never, you evil sea witch!

Coral: What did you just call me?!

Mizzen: Sh*t! *tries to climb out of the enclosure*

Persephone: Mizzen, what are you doing?! You could get hurt-

Mizzen: The evil sea witch and her evil minions are bullying me!

Coral: Come down and fight me, gremlin!

Treech: Lamina, fetch!

Lamina: Do I look like a freaking dog to you?!😭

Treech: No.

Lamina: Oh, okay.

Treech: Go get him, girl!

Lamina: I’m going back to sleep!😭

Mizzen: Get me out of here, Price! I need to eat those bacon pizzas before they do!

Persephone: Mizzen, get down from there!😫

Coryo: Felix, do something!

Felix: *is still crying* Don’t talk to me. I’m still sad!😭

Coryo: Get it together, Class Pres!

Felix: No-

Coryo: How are we going to tell them about your brilliant plan to stop the Hunger Games if you keep on crying?!

Felix: What brilliant plan?

Coryo: ✨Operation Restore Felix Ravinstill’s Good Name✨!!

Festus: No! We are not calling it that!

Coryo: Fine! ✨Operation No More Hunger Games✨ it is!

Festus: Bestie, I’m cringing.

Coryo: Ugh! I give up. Call it what you want. I don’t care.

Felix: Then can we stick with ✨Operation Felix✨?🥺

Everyone: No.