#tumblr has now eaten this four times.

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics that are hidden gems - amazing fics that I LOVE that have been a bit overlooked and have under 100 kudos as of the time I made the rec and as requested in an ask that Tumblr has eaten. You can find a similar rec with hidden gems under 200 kudos here. You can find all my other recs here. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

💎 ghost of you by beckywritesthings / @beckydoesthings

(E, 109k, Star Wars au) a Star Wars AU where Harry is Obi-Wan, Louis is Satine, and somehow there’s a love story between the cracks where there shouldn’t be.

💎 That Smile and That Midnight Laugh by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(T, 50k, girl direction) A Ferris Bueller's Day Off AU that picks up right where the movie leaves off, and imagines what might happen if Ferris' girlfriend and sister become friends. And maybe something more, too.

💎 through walls of trees by @ineverateakiwi

(T, 41k, fantasy) Elesdon is a country divided into five kingdoms and had long been considered peaceful. After a coup in the heart of the country, Lady Sulia ascended to the throne and imprisoned the four courts, stripping them of their powers. With the exception of King Louis Tomlinson, who submitted to her favors.

💎 The Things We Know To Be Wild by harryanthus_annuus / @harryanthus-annuus

(M, 39k, dragons) Louis is a London zoologist sent by the University of Highlands and Islands to assess the safety of the island of Eroda as part of the Wonder Seekers Project for sustainable tourism.

💎 But I know you by Thingssicant / @slowlyseducedbycurls

(NR, 26k, space) Harry is a journalist, Louis is an astronaut, but it's way more complicated than that

💎 Room For One More Troubled Soul by patdkitten / @babyarcanacasey

(M, 25k, supernatural) Louis Tomlinson is the chief medical examiner of the Centre for the Law Enforcement of Supernatural Beings - more commonly referred to as simply "The Centre".

💎 'tis the damn season by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(E, 22k, girl direction) Harry returns to her small hometown over the holiday season and starts to think about the road not taken.

💎 they say looks can kill (and i might try) by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

(M, 18k, superhero au) Now he walks those same streets as Rogue, a vigilante who makes his own justice - and he's making damn sure that justice is coming for CowellCorp too.

💎 In the Strangest of Ways by SunTomato / @sun-tomato

(NR, 17k, ghost au) when the haunting sounds of a melancholy piano piece accompanied by the vague shadow of a beautiful male figure appear, Louis is determined to find out who this beautiful man was and what happened to him…

💎 Ace Drag Queen Louis (series) by @musketrois

(NR, 16k, makeup artist Louis) Louis is a drag queen and Harry is the photographer that wants to be more than friends.

💎 All Shook Up by @littleroverlouis

(T, 9k, rivals) Memphis, Tennessee is looking to crown the Ultimate Elvis Tribute artist. A majority of the contestants are content to shake their hips on stage, but singer-songwriter Harry is taking it more seriously.

💎 defying stars by localopa / @voulezloux

(T, 9k, high school) the marching band au only one person (and that was me) asked for.

💎 The Bandits of Sherwood Forest by foreverfanficaddict / @chaotic-bells

(T, 8k, fairy tale) A Robin Hood AU

💎 Come All Ye by @justanothershadeofblue

(E, 6k, hippies) It's the summer of 1971, and Louis just wants to get out of town for a minute or a day. When his buddy Zayn says they should head down south and check out this radical new music festival

💎 Close Our Eyes (Pretend We're Miles Away) by @haztobegood

(E, 5k, Thelma & Louis au) Just forty eight hours ago, Harry never would have robbed a bank. Hell, she barely would have touched the gun she’d used in the robbery, let alone wave it around to threaten anyone.

💎 Call Me Yours by @maggieisalarrie

(T, 5k, high school) A story about love and lust with some miscommunication and, of course, a happy ending. 

💎 maybe come September by Lake / @alakeeffectgirl

(G, 3k, animal shifter) Louis is a shark, sometimes.

💎 Fingertips Putting on a Show by cherrylarry / @beelou

(E, 2k, girl direction) Harry just wants a relaxing self love session in the bathtub when she gets interrupted by a knock on her door.

💎 Gaydar Lessons by @homosociallyyours

(G, 1k, girl direction) While standing around after softball practice for the company's women's softball team, Harry gets caught (and caught up) in staring at Louis as she eats a ripe, juicy peach. If only she could be certain that Louis was into women.

💎 Are We In the Clear by asphodelknox / @iamasphodelknox

(M, 1k, historical) Louis and Harry meet across a crowded court at a time when falling in love would mean their destruction. With help from a friend, they run for their freedom.

- Rare Pairs -

💎 For Evermore by Layne Faire / @laynefaire

(T, 17k, Zayn/Liam) A Beauty and the Beast AU in which Liam is the Beast, trapped in a world suspended in time, and Zayn is the only one willing to look past the facade of enchantment to find the humanity of the man hidden within.

💎 I Can Only Hold You by @lululawrence

(NR, 8k, Louis/Jordan North) When Louis learns Jordan is close to falling into depri, he rushes over to help. What follows is so much more than either of them planned for.

💎 One Man's Ceiling Is Another Man's Floor by @kingsofeverything

(E, 3k, Niall/Maggie Rogers) Niall and Maggie come up with a way to get revenge on her annoying neighbors.

[encyclopediamorbidica]

Me and my best friend @geddyleeofficial are in pretty dire financial straits and need community support to survive. We're both disabled transmascs and I live in an insanely rural area of Missouri, a rather notorious red state that famously banned gender-affirming care for minors last year and is steadily approaching banning it outright. Things are going to get way, way fucking worse in the next four years, and we're both desperately clinging to each other to stay sane.

Living in separate states is literally driving both of us insane while we fight tooth and nail for the barest bits of time together. I've tried several times before to try and raise money that's consistently been eaten through by the cost of living. Anything anyone can spare is keeping the two of us going, trying to get ahead enough to get a place together. We've been at it for two years, now, and being no closer to our goal has been so deeply, deeply demoralizing.

Anything helps. Resources, donations, anything. If nothing else I'd like to not be worried where my next meal is coming from while we keep trying to make something work.

Please. I know personally how hard things are getting out here and I can't express enough how grateful I am to have even had this post read.

Feel free to reach out to either of us. We can direct you to other people who can vouch for our legitimacy if needed, and if you don't feel comfortable donating without proof of need I have more than enough information to give you. Please.

$app

pp

DO NOT TAG AS DONO POST, PLEASE

TUMBLR HIDES DONATION POSTS

[kylecorbeau]

I've been asked for the link to my post of the fan sequel I wrote to Jack's Filthy Ass. I couldn't find my original post of this story, so I'm reuploading it.

Liam's Filthy Mouth

By Kyle Corbeau on Tumblr

A fan-sequel to Jack's Filthy Ass by writinggross.

[Contains: M/M, Face-farting, hypnosis, Dom/sub, rimming, scat, scat consumption, Non-con.]

————————————————————————

I have a hard time not thinking about what happened with Jack. It's only been four days and I still panic whenever I hear someone moving in the hall.

But tonight, I know I have reason to panic. My mom and her boyfriend have gone out of town for TEN DAYS over spring break, leaving me here alone with Jack's filthy ass. Just as I anticipate, the doorknob to my bedroom jiggles. I take a shaky, deep breath as I remind myself that I obsessive-compulsively locked the door when I got home to an empty house.

Then I hear a sound that makes my blood turn ice cold.

The jingling of keys.

I whine in my throat as I shake my head in denial, but of course it's just an involuntary reaction, not preventative one. The door lock clicks and the handle turns. I'm suddenly wishing I'd worn more to bed than a skin-tight white tank. Jack's already in the doorway, smirking mischievously at me where I'm hiding under the covers.

The only thing he's wearing is a pair of horribly stained once-white briefs and pair of sweat socks than sound a bit like sponges when he takes a step. I can smell how foul he is from here, but unfortunately, i know from experience that the closer he gets, the more heinous the stench will become.

Then i realize what he has in his hand. It's an overnight bag.

"'Sup, Liam. I figure we can skip all the bullshit if I make this simple. You know what I need. You know I'm going to get it. I can wrestle you with the chains and shackles I have in the bag and do this the hard way, or you can remember that I can still tell everyone at school that you're my little ass-bitch."

I just nod at first, conceding that I can't stop him. He saunters over victoriously, sets the bag down next to my bed and sits down next to me on the mattress as I scoot over to give him as much room as possible. He chuckles, evilly, in my ears, though I'm sure it's probably his normal gentle laugh and I'm just biased.

Justifiably biased.

He sprawls out on the bed, leaving me barely any room on the mattress, but I'm backed against the wall now and he scoots himself ever closer, his rank stink making me shudder in disgust and fear. Soon, he's laying right up against me, pulling the blankets out of the way, shedding the last of my shield as he pushes his big gut and massive thighs against me, wrapping his sausage-like arms around my shoulders and head as I whimper. His juicy, ripe pits are right by my face and his ass stink of rotten shit is permeating my entire bed.  He lifts an arm and pushes my face into his armpit as I start to shed tears. One huge meaty leg is wrapped over mine and he kisses my hair softly as he rubs my face hard back and forth in his armpit. No locker room has ever smelled this bad. The smell is unfathomable and it's absolutely nothing compared to where my face and mouth will be... Fuck... My poor tongue is going to be eaten alive by his rotten, gungey hole.

I realize my body is shaking as I sob and he's laughing as he smears my face in his armpit. "Just get used to it, ya wuss. I have a week and a half to desensitize you. Once you realize your place in life is beneath a filthy fat slob, you're going to be begging me to do anything and everything I want to you. And we start like this."

Jack reaches into his briefs and pulls out a wadded up cloth item. It's one of his ratty white wifebeaters, but it's covered in greenish brown smears and completely drenched in buttcrack sweat and the familiar odor of his ass-juice. He lifts it to my face and I turn away in panic, but he smashes the putrid shirt against my face and I inhale from surprise. He holds it there like a toxic gas mask over my face and says, "Don't worry, Liam. You'll love that smell soon enough. Hell, if you want to let everyone at school know you fell in love with my filthy ass over vacation, I guess I can put up with people knowing about us. I can't imagine you just passing me in the hall like you usually do once I'm done with you."

"Jack," I say through the ass-juice-drenched shirt as I gag, "Isn't this just about you rubbing one out?"

"Remember my science project a couple of weeks ago?"

"You want to plant trees! You and every hippie in history!"

"No, Baby Boy. My project was on replenishable resources. This isn't about rubbing one out. This is about rubbing one out as many times as I want for as long as I want to. ...You like that nickname, Liam? Baby Boy?"

I sob harder when I realize he's planning to condition me to be his ass-bitch potentially for the rest of our lives and as I begin again to soak the shit-stained shirt with my tears, I figure out the nickname.

He's calling me 'Baby Boy' because his vile odor makes my eyes water.

Finally, he moves to put down the shitty wifebeater and starts peeling my own tank top off of my chest. As he pulls it up over my face, I'm suddenly met with a passionate kiss, his unwashed mouth and tongue that's probably got food from last week stuck to it, pushed flush against my own as he slobbers into my mouth and licks the back of my throat. I struggle for the first few seconds but realize there's no point. He rolls over on top on me, surrounding and crushing me with his massive form and ripe and rancid stench. He sloppily slobbers on my face in what I could only call an act of claiming.

Then, he takes his nasty wifebeater, puts in it his underwear, and at first I think hes wiping, but instead, he's cramming it into...

Shit!

He's stuffing that shirt inside his nasty asshole!

It isn't long before he's unwadding the fetid garment and forcefully putting it on me.

The next thing I know, he's getting me positioned on the bed. I can't fight anymore. Not even a little. Something in me broke when he put that tainted tank on me.

So as he mounts my head and says, "Open up, Baby Boy... my pretty little ass-bitch... Lick inside me. You know you love it!", all i can do is physically obey, opening my jaw, sucking and tonguing his rotten insides. They taste like rotting meat that's been out in the sun for a week, and his hole clamps tight around my tongue, making me whine. I can hear him talking, but I can't consciously understand everything. Something about counting and relaxing and feeling his stink saturating my body with pleasure.

The last words I hear before I fade into unconsciousness are about needing his ass stink to get hard.

When I wake up, I'm still wearing the shit-tank and Jack's shit-smeared briefs are strapped to my face like a dust mask. I look at my clock. It's been ten hours. There's a recording of Jack's voice soothingly encouraging peaceful thoughts when I smell him and telling me how it feels so good to crave his filthy ass.

I roll my eyes at the stupidity. Hypnosis? Really? Jack's so desperate to make me his ass-worshiping bitch that he's turning to phoney pseudoscience?

I chew on the browned briefs for a moment, feeling better when I suck on the flavor.

Fuck. I'm keeping these. He's got plenty of filthy briefs and he can always make more.

I get out of bed, stuffing the shit-stained briefs all the way into my mouth and moaning as my morning wood throbs. I walk into the hallway, looking for Jack to tell him what a fucking idiot he is for thinking he could hypnotize me into wanting his foul fat ass, but when I don't see him in his room, I call out to him.

"Yo, Jack? Where you at?"

I hear his voice from his en suite bathroom shout, "I'm taking a dump!"

I perk up at the prospect, briskly heading for his bathroom door. "Mind if I join?"

He laughs his ass off before telling me threateningly that I'll regret if I don't. I quickly open the door, rush to him and kneel. He smirks down at me as I jerk away from the fetid odor and frown with visceral nausea until he takes my head in his hand and pulls me forward. "Sniff my shit, bitch. I'm making your breakfast."

I'm utterly revolted, on the verge of vomiting, but as I autonomically obey him and sniff the toilet from between his legs, my forehead pressed against his junk, euphoria and serenity wash over me and I hum in pleasure as I go boneless against his lap.

I've completely forgotten what I was going to say to him and somewhere in my mind, I realize what he meant about breakfast and my stomach growls.

He finishes shitting in the toilet, then he gets up and turns his unwiped ass towards me. The smell is worse than a port-a-potty and the stink is like rotten eggs saturating decomposing meat infused with sewage fumes.

I sniff deeply, my nose touching his crack as I fight my flight instinct. I want to run to somewhere safe and never witness this again.

But this is my safe place. I should be running to the very thing that engenders my panic.

"My ass isn't going to lick itself clean!" Jack growls at me.

My tongue dives in before I can stop it and I slurp and swallow the smears of fetid refuse until his ass is depressingly clean.

Then, I come out of myself and realize what just happened.

"YOU FUCKING NASTY BASTARD!" I scream, licking the revolting shit from my lips as he looks back at me in shock.

Then, he's laughing.

He's laughing hard.

Then he says two words that freeze my entire body.

"Ass Master."

I cant move. I can't move at all!

He backs up a few inches, reaches back to roughly grip my hair in his fat fist and shoves my face between his cheeks.

"Suck my pucker!" Jack commands, and without my consent, my body obeys.

As my mouth wraps around his hole, sealing my face to his obscenely disgusting insides a long greasy fart hot as the sun is pumped into my lungs.

Then I feel it on my tongue.

It's hot, it's wet and it's worse than I ever imagined.

The clumps of shit pop out one at a time, filling my mouth, and Jack says, "Keep sucking my hole, mash my shit around in your mouth, swallow it and hate it even though you need it.

I feel like I'm going to vomit, to pass out or even maybe die, but as I use my tongue to press Jack's shit against every surface in my mouth, my morning wood rages and leaks.

I smell the shit from inside my mouth, the putrid fumes traveling up from the back of my throat, and even though I can't move my body away, I cry, tears streaming against the inside of Jack's asscrack as I sob, making him moan loudly.

When I swallow it, gulping the lumps down my throat, I cum hard and shoot my copious load all over the tile, but the sounds I make are anything but euphoric. With my mouth still sealed to his hole, I scream in visceral horror.

Jack sighs in pleasure and says, "Relax, Baby Boy. Just be yourself." I can suddenly move of my own accord and I stumble backwards on the bathroom floor. He turns around with hunger in his eyes. "Thank me for making you breakfast, bitch."

I can choose what to say now. I feel it. "Is this really happening?" I ask as I shake in terror.

His eyes darken and I realize that wasn't the right thing to say.

"I'm sorry, Jack. Th– thank you... I hate you...."

Jack pats me on the head affectionately with an evil smirk. "You're getting a full load for lunch. I'll let you know when I need to piss. Go cry on my bed until I'm ready to collar and fuck you."

I can't help it.

By my own choosing, I lean forward and reverently kiss his filthy, musky balls.

And he lets me.

————————————————————————

After Jack enjoyed my first display of genuine admiration and affection, he shaved my shoulder-length hair down to a near-bald buzzcut, shaved my entire body completely smooth, had me rinse all the haircut debris away in the shower pissed all over me and down my throat, occasionally smearing his foul, acrid piss over my lips with his fat dick like he was putting my chapstick on for me.

Then, he declared that this is the first day of my new life.

Given our situation and encounters thus far, I expected words like that to be sadistic, threatening, mocking or some combination.

They weren't. He seemed genuinely happy, not just for himself but for me.

I'm just now realizing just how much this really is a new phase of life.

I'm walking out of my possible-stepbrother's/hopefully-boyfriend's bathroom naked after participating in things I never imagined while he walks with me wearing only the track pants he had on when he started this insanity.

This is the first time I've actually looked around Jack's room. Until today, I've been avoiding him as much as possible, and when I passed through through it from the hall to his ensuite bathroom less than two hours ago, I had single-minded focus and only observed enough of my surroundings to see which way his bathroom is.

Now, I look around in stunned silence as I realize how long he's been planning all of this: attacking me and riding my unwilling face, threatening me into submission then cuddling and kissing me as if he loves me – all before using some kind of aggressive brainwashing on me to make me his unwilling but devoted autonomically obedient, fart-addicted, shit-noshing slave.

We've known each other for less than two weeks and about ten days ago, my mom and I moved in to live with her boyfriend and her boyfriend's son, Jack.

As far as I knew, Jack had barely tolerated me.

Which is why it strikes me as odd that my favorite possessions (which were mysteriously lost in the move) are arranged throughout Jack's room as if they're his.

...Wait...

...NO!

It's obvious the totality of this room's books, trinkets and miscellaneous items are from two very different people!

Jack's room looks as if we both live in it!

He planned this whole disgusting coercive seduction thing at least ten days ago, only a few days after we first met.

Possibly, the day we met.

I'm suddenly enraged! I feel like I'm going to belt out a primal, wordless scream at the top of my lungs, but Jack's thick arm curls around my waist and my anger drains away in a heartbeat as he kisses the top of my head.

"Cheer up, Baby Boy," Jack says with encouraging mirth. "You'll love living in here! It's over three times bigger than your old room, which means we have room for the fridges, sofa, spare bed, my reading chair and your new desk. Most importantly, we have a <i>private</i> bathroom, there's fantastic soundproofing and, after fourteen years with me in it, my personal musk is soaked into every inch of this very lucky room."

I laugh softly and playfully elbow Jack in his huge, studly gut before dropping to my knees in front of him and leaning forward. For a few moments, I let him think I'm leaning towards his exposed cock, then I abruptly bend down and take a big whiff of the carpet.

"Yep! This inch passes inspection!" I say as I try to lighten my own mood

He snorts loudly before falling down in a fit of (feigned?) hysterical laughter and with suspicious accuracy, he lands on top of me, his knees straddling mine, his fat belly weighing down on my back and his hands gripping my hips. He roughly pulls my hips backwards to grind his hard-on against my ass.

I shiver in revulsion, and for once, it has nothing to do with his heinous hygiene, his disgusting habits, his dominating-my-face-with-his-ass-and-anything-that-comes-out-of-it-fetish , or even the fact that almost all of our interactions have been when he forcibly dominated me, my will be damned.

I'm actually starting to like him, despite all of that.

After the ten hours of hypnotic bullshit, I'm starting to like him because of it.

I even like him enough to eagerly let him fuck me.

My instinctive revulsion is entirely because I am (was?) straight and having anyone's dick touch me at all viscerally grosses me out.

He groans happily above me and says, "Don't worry, Baby Boy. You're gonna get lucky too. Maybe right now..."

I start to lose control of my body as my own thoughts are disregarded and unheard. That's happened a lot this morning and at this point, I know it's more fun to enjoy hating it than to hate hating it.

"Fuuuuck!" I groan in a mix of anguish and euphoria. "Go fuck yourself, you fat, filthy, vile asshole! Your personality is even more shitty than your actual shit!"

Jack keeps a steel-strong grip on my hip as I hear the slide of his track pants against his skin.

"You get away with talking like that to me once," he growls through gritted teeth. "Would you care to rephrase?"

I keen in my throat as I feel his bare dick thumping against my asscheek.

"Yeah, Jack, I would. What I meant to say is I'm jealous of your bedroom. I wish you were inside me every night and I can't wait for you to soak your personal musk into every inch of me, because you're hot as fuck and I want everyone I meet to know I belong to you."

Jack slaps my ass so hard it feels like a punch and his dick begins sliding back and forth between my asscheeks, grazing across my pucker on every thrust. I can't tell if he's erotically teasing me or silently threatening me.

"Anything else, Baby Boy?"

My hips start grinding backwards against him, and to my shame, it's not because of the hypnosis.

"Y-yeah, Jack...  Look I...  I love you. I love you and I want you to own me use me and be my boyfriend. Please, Jack. I need you."

I'm about to start crying again until I feel him lean over me and sensually press his lips against my jaw from behind.

"Yeah, bitch," he whispers in sadistic apathy. "You do need me. You need me to own you, control you and use you. I'll always give you what you need, Baby Boy. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't?"

The words sting at first (more from Jack's tone than their significance), but then Jack hugs me from behind and rubs the head of his thick, filthy cock against my hole, nearly breaching it. I relax happily, knowing this is my place and suddenly realizing he implied we're dating.

"Thanks, Jack..." I mumble with genuine gratitude. "I'll give you everything you need and anything I have to give."

He breathes hard against my neck as half an inch of his cock pushes past the ring of muscle. "Yeah. I know you will, Liam," says in a soft, loving tone. Then he kisses my neck, lifts away from me and helps me off the floor. I'm startled when I find myself launched through the air, but giddy when I land on Jack's bed.

The steel chain he locks in place with a matching padlock has a rusty iron finish, and just after the lock audibly clicks, we both heave joyful sighs of relief.

[goddessofroyalty]

Resending my question just in case it got eaten, but can u please elaborate more on the Vanco baby's uncle-like relationship with Viktor and Jayce growing up? (As someone with a significantly older sibling I can definitely relate to that feeling lol)

Not only the age gap, but also the fact that their big brother literally brought a new dawn of technology to the two cities with Jayce? I imagine there's this subconscious pressure on the Vanco baby to be a model citizen. Also imagining Silco enlisting Viktor to help keep his baby sibling in line during the rebellious teen/nightmare phase. They're still Zaunites after all.

Just anything you're thinking of regarding their big brother relationship, really ❤️

Yeah it got eaten (had kind of thought Tumblr had stopped doing that but apparently not).

So going by my math (of quite frankly Silco's age) the youngest Vanco is probably born while Hextech is still in the stages of being developed or like only around the time of the initial releases not when it's really starting to hit its peak popularity. Not that that really matters seeing as the kid probably doesn't have memories from before Hextech was big but still feel like I need to note. Partially because is means Viktor and Jayce are spending a lot of time in their labs and therefore easy to locate babysitting when Silco needs it while he's in Piltover.

The gap is the kind where not only could Viktor (and Jayce) be the kid's parents it wouldn't even be that socially unacceptable for them to be seeing that they are both in their (early) 20s when the baby is born. Before Jayce's face at least is plastered everywhere and people Know Him And His Story people regularly assume if they are around that they're the baby's parents (especially with how much the kid looks like Viktor). And again they're not even judgemental about it and treat them like they are Irresponsible because of the baby. Which you know causes a lot of very awkward situations for either still dancing around each other or only just gotten into a relationship Jayce and Viktor.

While the heavy shadow Viktor casts definitively hangs a bit over his youngest siblings head I do think the Thing that defines the kid the most is that they are the first child to truly grow up in the limeline in both the cities. They have been attending Piltover Council meetings from a couple weeks old (if they want to call a four hour meeting they can just deal with Silco having his baby with him he's not walking all the way back to his office to feed them). But they've also been running around the Last Drop since they could run around.

When they're young they struggle with how to behave where. Because in Zaun nobody cares if they're climbing on the furniture and getting into mischief while in Piltover all eyes are on them as an extension of the Zaun Representative and so have to be model behaviour to not give ammunition to throw at their family. They do figure it out as they get older but it's definitively a struggle in those early developmental years.

Viktor has always been a borderline third parent to his younger siblings more than a brother (the age gap but also he had less interest in the kinds of things they were getting into). Funnily enough he's actually less of a third parent and more of that uncle figure to the youngest because he isn't living at home anymore. Which in some ways makes the shadow Viktor casts loom less compared to the others. Having a rich and successful uncle feels less intimidating than having a rich and successful older sibling. Yes it's not exactly that because Viktor is still their sibling but the gap is so large they're less being directly compared to him than the other four feel like they are and it's more just part of the culmative Success of the whole family that feels like expectation.

Even with not living at home Viktor's still getting roped into babysitting now and then and does get looked at to provide advice as someone who moves between Zaun and Piltover culture a lot (although by the time the kid is old enough for teenage rebellion Vi is also dating a Piltite).

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

sometimes i think about the fact that thru u (and rather indirectly through myself) i’m technically only one degree of separation from the actual real neil gaiman. my eleventh grade english teacher would be fangirling so bad right now. but he hasn’t answered any of my emails in the past two months so i fear the 7th graders may have eaten him.

anyway. that’s not at all the point of this.

the point is. my point. is. i read good omens five days before you somehow got stuck in this fandom. i have also never watched the tv show. who the heck is this muriel. why is there ice cream. what is going on. where are my four other horsemen off the apocalypse.

anyway. in summary. hello from the direct opposite but parallel half of the fandom. it’s been a doozy trying to keep up with things and maybe maybe maybe i’ll finally cave and watch the show. until then-

“actually, it was bloody beautiful.”

Hello anon maggot! Well, yes, I suppose that is true...? I remember back in the middle of Jan one of my mutuals said they were mutuals-in-law now with Neil. I'm afraid I have no bloody clue about how mutual culture actually works on tumblr.

I've nearly been two months on here now, but my, uh, vaguely downwards saunter on this hellsite doesn't seem to be the norm. Add to that the fact that during my first summaries of Good Omens, during the first week of Jan, I was questioning whether Neil was fictional or not.

Yeaaaaaah my life's always kinda strange I've learned to roll with it by now. I hope your (former?) English teacher has not, in fact, been eaten by 7th graders. Unless he was a tool, in which case, I hope they feasted on his mortal frame. I'm hoping that since he's a Neil fan he was not a tool and has not been consumed for sustenance by 12 year olds.

The ice cream is a brief scene in the first season, it's an easter egg for the plotline of Sadie and Dottie's whirlwind romance in season 2. I don't think that was included in the book, probably not, because they're actually a nod to characters in one of Terry Pratchett's novels I believe. Their romance is honestly the cutest, to the point that Neil resorted to using ridiculous plot threads of them to ward off people asking for S3 spoilers. But their canon romance, I mean, it's just insane. Muriel is an angel in season 2, they officiate the Sadie-Dottie union. I think they're a scrivener.

Absolutely bloody watch the show it's amazing. Really. It broke me and healed me in the best way and I need to rewatch the first season without the chaos of being newly kidnapped.

Hello to your side of the fandom from the dubiously elected official good omens mascot!! I'm terrified of reading the book because of how every time I see Crowley's name I get emotional, so it's currently sitting by me on my desk till I gain some pretence of stability (it's not possible for show fans to ever have real stability).

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part sixty: "The Long Awaited Kiss"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Matt has been returning to your apartment as Daredevil in the evenings, but everything between you both is not quite back to normal.

Or You wonder why Matt hasn't wanted to kiss you yet.

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 3k

a/n: This installment is pure fluff after what Reader and Matt just went through. You can find the entire list of installments for this series on tumblr here.

It had been four days now since you’d woken up in Matt’s apartment after the horrific encounter with Backman. That very morning, after you’d discussed things with Matt, you had both finally eaten the cold breakfast and Matt had called you a cab to bring you home. He wouldn’t hear of you walking and he would have probably crawled into the cab with you if you’d have let him. But you figured you both needed time to process the conversation you’d just had, and you had needed some time to mentally process what had happened to you. Though when you’d gotten home and had turned on the news, you immediately saw the story of Heinrich Backman’s arrest all over every news channel. Just as Matt had promised you, you were now safe from Backman. The relief you had felt from that was palpable.

You’d also spent the past four days recovering in your apartment from the injuries you'd sustained, though unfortunately you’d only further terrified Ellison when you’d had to tell him a vague version of what had happened to you. He didn't even have you writing fluff now–you were now solely on copy editing duty. But while that massive downgrade hurt in your soul, you were admittedly happy to have the time to recover without losing your job.

During the time you’d been stuck in your apartment this week, Matt repeatedly kept sending you food deliveries for breakfast and lunch no matter how many times you’d told him it wasn’t necessary. He had wanted to send them for dinners as well, but you’d told him you were so bored that you needed cooking as a distraction. He’d also been calling to check in on you throughout the day almost every few hours, and while you’d thought his concern was sweet, you’d had to beg him to dial it back a bit. It had taken you three conversations with him before he finally did.

In the evenings he had begun to stop by again, something that filled your heart with a warmth every time he did. He’d appear on your fire escape dressed in his red suit, lightly knocking on your window and waiting for you to let him in. You’d feed him whatever you’d made for dinner that night knowing that he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. Both of you would sit on the couch while he ate, the two of you continuing to talk about the breakup and everything around it. You’d spent the last three nights doing just that until you’d eventually gotten to the point last night where neither of you really had anything more to discuss except the same things you already had repeatedly gone over multiple times. You didn't need to be able to hear Matt's heartbeat to know the truth in his words when he spoke to you, either.

Of course while you were recovering at home you were also still struggling to process the traumatic situation with Backman, even if the man and his accomplices were in police custody now. Though you’d been grateful that this time around, after what had happened, Matt was always present and there for you when he wasn’t at work. He’d even offered to stop going out in the mask at night for as long as you needed him to, but you’d preferred that he did. You felt safer knowing he was keeping an ear out around Hell’s Kitchen and making sure no one else had figured out your connection to Daredevil now that Backman was gone. But every night he’d return to your window like clockwork and stay over. You would fall asleep with him holding you close and comforting you when you occasionally woke from a nightmare. 

But despite all of that, things were not exactly as they had been with you and Matt right before you had been kidnapped from your office. And while you'd expected as much, you were a bit shocked that Matt's physical affection ended at cuddling and hand holding. The only thing he'd kissed over the last four days was your forehead, and while you'd melted into him the few times he had, reveling in the affectionate gesture, you'd craved a bit more. Not that you were ready for sex yet–especially not with the way that gash in your side still hurt–but you had been realizing how desperate for physical comfort you'd become over the past couple of days. You wanted more from Matt, but you weren't sure why he wasn't exactly giving you that. 

And tonight, you'd decided, you would finally ask Matt what was holding him back instead of jumping to conclusions. Which you'd already admittedly been doing all day today.

You were sitting on your couch cocooned in a plush blanket as you shamelessly binged Love Is Blind on Netflix when you heard that familiar knock on your window. A smile slid its way onto your mouth as you untangled yourself from the blanket and slipped off the couch, careful to avoid pulling your stitches. Making your way to the window beside your television, you could clearly see Matt clad in his red suit, a smile on his own face as you approached. 

Reaching out, you slid the window up and stepped aside. Matt climbed in, a chilly gust of late February air following him. You made to close the window after him but were stopped by Matt when he gently encircled his arms around your shoulders and drew you into his body instead. He nuzzled his nose along the top of your head almost immediately.

"I missed you today," Matt whispered into your hair. 

Your own arms wrapped around his waist tightly, your face burying into the armor on his chest as you breathed in that scent of him you loved so much–sweat and something almost leather-like from his suit. Over those six weeks you’d been broken up you knew you had missed that scent, but being able to breathe it in again while his protective arms were wrapped around you always had you realizing just exactly how much you’d missed it. 

“I missed you, too,” you replied.

The pair of you stayed in the embrace for a minute, your mind entirely blank to everything but the feel of him around you. You loved that you could hold him like this again and that he actually held you back in return. But when a particularly rough breeze blew through the still open window, sending a little shiver down your spine, Matt reluctantly released you. He turned and closed the window firmly.

“I made that stir fry you used to like so much tonight,” you told him as he turned back around. “I’m assuming you’re hungry?”

One of his gloved hands rose up, pulling the helmet from his head. His gaze fell fondly along your collarbone, a soft smile slipping onto his face as he ran his other hand through his hair.

“I haven’t, no,” he admitted. “You know you don’t have to feed me every night, though, right?”

“Do you suddenly not like my stir fry, Murdock?” you asked teasingly, head tilting to the side.

He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “I love it quite a lot actually,” he countered. “But I just don’t want you feeling like you need to take care of me. You should be worrying about yourself right now.” His hand rose, gesturing towards your side. “That sounds better than it did a few days ago but it’s still a deep wound. You shouldn’t be pushing yourself.”

You waved a hand at him before turning and heading towards your kitchen. “Cooking doesn’t require much physical effort. Especially in comparison to someone else who gets stabbed and, I don’t know, decides to scale the side of multiple story buildings and get stabbed some more.”

You shot him a smile over your shoulder as you continued towards the kitchen. Your heart fluttered happily in your chest when you saw he was grinning back at you.

“Mmm, I don’t think I actually choose to get stabbed, sweetheart,” he countered. “It sort of just…happens.”

“Yes,” you mused, opening your fridge door and pulling out the bowl of food you’d made up for him after you had finished eating dinner earlier, “because occasionally getting stabbed is certainly not expected when you decide to go out and punch the shit out of bad guys. Yeah, no,” you continued sarcastically, enjoying the sound of his warm laughter filling your apartment once again as you placed the bowl in the microwave, “you’re certainly not choosing to get stabbed doing that.”

“Alright, point taken,” he conceded.

“I can heat this back up if you want to get changed out of that suit,” you told him, turning and leaning against the counter as you waited for the microwave to heat up his food.

He nodded quietly before making his way towards your bedroom where his tee-shirts and sweatpants once again neatly resided in your drawer. You’d never ended up needing to give them back to him.

The microwave finished a couple of minutes later and you carefully reached up, pulling the warm bowl from inside before setting it on the counter. You made your way to a cabinet by the sink next, pulling down a glass before filling it with water at the faucet. Sliding open a drawer, you pulled out a fork and then turned, heading back towards the bowl you’d made. You were about to pick it up and bring everything out towards your coffee table, but warm hands were very carefully wrapping around you before you could. Matt was behind you a moment later, his chest just barely brushing up along your back at first.

“Thank you,” he whispered in your ear.

Your eyes snapped shut with him so close to you, his warm breath falling over your neck as he still clung to you from behind, his hands splayed wide over your stomach. Heart beating a little faster at the heat of him surrounding you, his hands tightened their hold on you in response as he drew you in closer to the front of himself. You desperately wanted to turn your head and just kiss him right now. He was so close, just right there, but the memory of a few nights back flashed through your mind of when you’d tried to kiss him and he’d abruptly turned. The feel of your lips hitting his stubble briefly ran through your mind. Something unpleasant twisted in your stomach at the memory.

“What’s wrong?” Matt murmured.

“I just…” you began, eyes still shut as your voice trailed off. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to continue as Matt remained hugging you from behind. “There’s something I wanted to ask you about, I guess,” you said weakly.

Gradually his arms released their hold on you and he took a step back. You set the glass of water you’d been holding down before turning and facing Matt, your back resting against the countertop.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

Nervously your gaze darted down to where your hands began fidgeting in front of yourself. “I know things are going to take time before they get back to where they were between us,” you began carefully, “and that’s fine. That’s–that’s expected. But…I’ve noticed you haven’t wanted to kiss me since we started working through things. And I–I don’t want to make assumptions as to why, but I didn’t really understand.”

Silence had fallen in your kitchen at your words. Chewing your lip, you chanced a look up at Matt before you and your brows drew together curiously. He had a sheepish smile on his mouth as he focused his gaze around your chest.

“Believe me,” he replied, “it is not a matter of not wanting to. I was giving you space, not wanting to make you feel like I was rushing things. I didn’t know if you were ready for that again and I figured you would let me know when you were.”

“Oh,” you breathed out. “I didn’t know that. So this–this is good. Us talking about things.”

“Yes,” Matt said, that sheepish smile turning into a big grin. “It is good. So does that mean–” he continued, pausing only for his tongue to briefly slip out between his lips, “–that you want me to kiss you?”

Eyes focused on his mouth, your heart felt like it was hammering away in your chest. It had been almost two months since he’d last kissed you. You absolutely wanted him to kiss you already.

“Yes,” you whispered, eyes glued to his lips.

He stepped towards you and you swore your heart flew up into your throat the moment he did, your face tilting up expectantly towards his. One of his hands reached out, tenderly tucking some hair behind your ear before his fingers gently traced their way down your cheekbone, down the expanse of your cheek, moving all the way to your chin. He held your chin between a few of his fingers, slowly lifting your mouth closer towards his. Your pulse was racing in anticipation for this kiss, the one you’d been desperately craving for more than six weeks. 

Your eyes slid up from where they’d been focused on his mouth, his lips glistening with saliva from when his tongue slipped out and moistened them. Your gaze moved upwards to take in the sight of his eyes and the affectionate way they were gazing back down at you. Swallowing hard, you felt like your body was starting to tremble as you tried to refrain from just jumping at him and crashing your mouth onto his. 

You almost stopped breathing when he finally leaned in, very softly connecting his lips to yours. Arms instinctively flying up, they wrapped tight around Matt’s neck, holding him firmly to you as you eagerly kissed him back. You could feel just how badly he’d missed you with how quickly his lips began more fervently moving against yours. One of your hands snaked its way upwards, fisting his dark hair gently as a faint whine left your mouth. At the sound, the hand he wasn’t holding your chin with landed on your back, just between your shoulder blades. He was pulling you into him, pressing you tight to his body. 

His tongue soon made its way into your mouth and you leaned further into him. You felt like he was taking over your senses–the taste of him on your tongue; the scent of him once again filling your nose; the desperate, sharp breaths escaping his mouth between kisses hitting your ears; the feel of his solid and warm body almost flush to yours. You were becoming overwhelmed with Matt, desperate for more and abruptly becoming aware of just how much you'd missed him.

Eventually his grip released your chin, his hand sliding back to cup your cheek and carefully breaking you both apart. You were breathing hard, shocked at how worked up you’d so easily found yourself as Matt’s forehead gently came to rest against yours. His shoulders were heaving with his own deep breaths.

“We should probably stop right there,” Matt panted out.

You swallowed hard, nodding your head in agreement. “Yeah,” you gasped out. “Probably a good idea. Apparently the uh, physical aspect of things is all still quite there,” you admitted with a blush.

Matt smirked, huffing out a light laugh. “I wasn’t exactly concerned that had gone anywhere,” he teased back. “But I don’t think we should.”

“I agree,” you said. 

You cleared your throat, trying to collect yourself as you pulled back from Matt. He straightened before you and your hands gradually released him, returning to your sides. Matt’s hands quickly followed suit.

“I should let you eat before your food gets cold,” you told him.

“I suppose that’s one way to keep our hands to ourselves right now,” Matt mused, reaching behind you and grabbing the bowl of food and the glass of water.

Pushing off of the counter, you made your way back to the living room with Matt following behind. You grabbed your remote from the coffee table before you sat down on the couch, Matt sitting down beside you.

“You don’t need to turn it off on my account,” he said quickly. “Though what are you watching? I’ve been trying to figure it out.”

“Love is Blind,” you told him, setting the remote back down.

Matt shot you a curious raised brow as he began to eat. You giggled at the quizzical expression on his face.

“It’s just a stupid reality show where these people go on and try to fall in love without ever having seen each other,” you quickly explained. “They claim it's a social experiment or whatever.”

“Social experiment?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, drawing your legs up under you on the couch and getting comfortable. “To see if someone can fall in love without ever seeing the other person.”

Beside you, Matt let out a very loud, very amused bark of laughter. You turned, focusing on him as he quickly swallowed down the bite of food in his mouth. 

“That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard,” he said with a laugh. “ I’m blind and I can assure you it’s entirely possible for those of us who are to fall in love.”

You snorted in response, a laugh falling out of you afterwards as you covered your mouth. Beside you on the couch, Matt had paused his eating as his eyes remained on you. There was a massive, genuine smile plastered across his face, the dimple in his right cheek very apparent as he watched you.

“What?” you asked, still grinning.

“I missed that cute little snort you always do when something funny takes you by surprise,” he admitted.

Your bottom lip rolled back between your teeth, heat creeping up onto your cheeks. “Ever the charmer, I see, Mr. Murdock,” you replied nervously.

“Only when it comes to you, sweetheart,” he countered cheekily.

He shot you a playful wink that had your cheeks burning up a little further. You snuggled deeper into the couch, your eyes returning to the television before you as Matt continued to eat. Your right hand unconsciously rose up to grip the gold pendant necklace with Matt’s handwriting hanging from your neck once again. 

You definitely had missed him.

[canadianno]

💕Positivity prime time! Share five things you love about yourself, four things you're excited about, OR three people you care deeply about and why. Pass this along to someone else who makes you smile💕

Uhmmmmmm!!!! Uhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!

I have more than 3 people I care about . But also less of all the other things (well I could probably find 5 things but I don't want to)

So you're getting all the people I care about . Hell yeah

FIRST of all. I love my mom. I love my mom so so so much . Best mom ever!!! She has been through so much and I love her :] I love my mom so so much

SECOND of all. My best friend, Ambrose! If they had a tumblr account I'd @ them but I'm kind of glad they don't. They're so funny, and so smart. I promised them I'd play a game soon and I'm still saving up for it. 4 going on 5 years of complete and utter chaos baby!!

Now for the ppl actually on tumblr oh boy . I don't remember usernames for shit lets go

@bvnny-skvllz dragged me down into the COTL fandom. Beloved friend, aus' georg, I love clinking all of my characters against theirs like little dolls. They know all the warrior cats animation community drama and they talk about it with me :3

@sock-kaleidoscope beloved friend!!!!! The first COTL fic outside of TROD that I ever read. DM of the dnd campaign I'm in and they're fuckin PHENOMENAL at it!!! The absolute silliest little characters. Always have something fun to say.

@ditzyclown beloved friend:DDDDDD I love being on call with them and listening to their birds scream in the background. Phenomenal art btw?? Deserves more hype. I am Feannor supporter number one baby!

@amimuu beloved friend!!!! The sweetest person ever. Their art is so yummy. Their au was the third COTL fic I ever read I think. This isn't counting Bunnys oneshots btw,, but this one's about Ami . Ami is so cool. They also make amazing music??? Little game tunes that are incredible???

Alz - they don't have an account that I know of but they live in my inbox . Had a dream last night that I found their account by accident btw. My favorite asshole ever. They're so mean <3

@aniimoni beloved friend!!! The silliest art ever. They never run out of reaction images. It frightens me a little bit. They've eaten crickets before. I think that it's cool :3

There are so many more people I wish I could mention but I'm in class and this is hard enough. Shouout to Ouchie, Wolsal, Skippy, Zoph, Tyler, Corvus, Oddboi, Amir, Finley, Terb, Cowboy, Mamba, Squid, Cora, Kaili, Jack, Jason, Chloe and everyone else I forgot :]]]]

[thefabulous-mostgroovy]

If I Make it Through Tonight (Everybody's Gonna Hear Me Out)

Martin saw his first monster at the age of ten.

He saw his second monster at the age of twenty-eight, and that monster was his boss.

Jon/Martin, 4.6k words, rated T, read on AO3. This is for day 5 of @jonmartinweek for the prompt Cryptids. pls ignore that i completely forgot to repost this to tumblr lmao

Martin saw his first monster at the age of ten.

He was in Brownies at that age, amongst a group of girls who could tell he wasn't quite like them. The scout leader had been talking about a camping trip for over a year at that point, and finally managed to organise it at a local site. A few girls complained about the dirt and didn't like the smell of the campfire and the portaloo, but Martin stuck with a small group of girls who he found huddled around a flipped over rock, looking at bugs.

He doesn't remember most of the night, in all honesty. They did the usual stuff you were supposed to do when you go camping: stories, songs, s'mores. Nothing too exciting. Then they all went to bed in their lackluster tents and sleeping bags.

When Martin woke up, he didn't know what time it was. Just that it was dark and the campfire had been put out. The girls in his tent were all still asleep. Sitting up and pulling his jumper on, he carefully pulled the zipper on the entrance down and poked his head out. He couldn't see much but the vague silhouette of the other tents and trees.

The woods at night were quiet. Martin closed his eyes and listened to chirping insects and rustling bushes. He's always liked the sound of nature. He lived near a woodland with a park sitting on the edge and he would lie in the basket swing and watch the spaces through the trees. Sometimes he would see deer or rabbits or foxes, or once, even a badger. He didn't have a sketchbook, but he would take some printer paper and a clipboard and draw the animals and plants he saw. Not very well, mind you, but he would sometimes convince his mum to let him keep his favourites stuck to the fridge.

Martin was snapped out of his thoughts by a loud rustle in the foliage, and a hush fell over the woods. A true silence was left ringing in his ears and he turtled into the neck of his jumper. He vaguely remembers, from a walk through that woodland with his father, being told that silence is the most dangerous sound in nature; it means everything that could be eaten has run away, leaving only the thing looking for something to eat. He fumbled for his glasses behind him, not taking his eyes off the treeline, and shoved them onto his nose. It didn't help much, but it wasn't as blurry anymore.

Amongst the black, he saw something shifting, heard the sniffs of a large nose. Heavy, yet careful footsteps made their way through the bushes, and into the campsite. Now out of the trees, Martin could see it clearer.

The creature was enormous, hunched unnaturally on four legs and covered in thin, dark hair. The skin underneath was pale and covered in painful-looking stretch marks. The paws didn't seem like paws at all. They looked more like hands, with elongated fingers and harsh, ragged nails. It was almost person-shaped. Almost. The hunchback made it look like a man trying to walk on all fours, on his hands and feet, but it moved so fluidly, like it was used to it.

Until it stood up.

The thing rose onto its two hind legs, pushing at the portaloo with its knobbly hands, towering over the thing by easily two and a half feet. The small stall rocked back and forth, clattering as its balance was tested. It chuffed as it tried the handle with clumsy fingers, then moved on to investigate a tent.

Looking back on it, Martin knows it was a terrible idea, but his mind had filled with the awful image of this creature—this monster—getting into the tent and ripping the girls inside to shreds, and he simply acted in instinct. He blindly fished the wind up torch he brought with him out of his sleeping bag, and turned it on. The crank made an awful, loud clicking noise and the light wasn't very bright, but the monster still squinted at it.

Big reflective eyes stared at Martin, the lumbering body frozen in a startled turn. Its hair stood on end, teeth bared in its snout and stained with something dark, and it stared. It stared and stared and didn't move a muscle. Martin stared back, suddenly cold with fear. It raised a long, slender finger, the tip thick like a paw pad, the nail curled and yellow, and it held the finger to its lips. Like it was telling—no, warning—Martin to be quiet.

The light faded out. Martin didn't rewind it. He listened to the creature disappear back into the woods. He did not go back to sleep that night.

The first monster Martin saw, he discovered many years later, was a werewolf. And it sparked what can only be described as an obsession.

From that point forward, Martin found everything he could on monsters, ghouls, and cryptids. He found books in the library about Mothman and the Loch Ness Monster and Krampus, and checked them out, much to the dismay of the librarian. He copied the anatomical sketches into the jotters he took from the supply bin in school and proudly showed his teachers, who replied with a concerned grimace.

(To be fair, he doesn't blame them. He was this specky little eleven year old holding up drawings that might as well have been props from The Shining. He once heard a teaching assistant mutter 'Redruuum' behind the teacher he was proudly showing a picture of Bigfoot to, and she was quickly sent off with a glare.)

The interest only got worse as he grew up. He set up trail cams in his local woodland, he went on ill-advised camping trips to unregulated areas, he had a truly awful vampire phase in high school and is rather glad he's not still friends with anyone who would remember it. He started carrying around a camera everywhere he went, just in case, deciding that his top goal should be to finally get a picture of one of the damn things. But one thing truly takes the cake for the lengths he's willing to go to get that shot:

After dropping out of high school and needing to support himself and his mum, he made up a lie about having a master's degree in parapsychology and applied to the Magnus Institute.

Working at the Magnus Institute had been a total dream for Martin for a few years at that point. The idea of being completely surrounded with resources, with proof of the supernatural was all he could ever ask for! Of course, he applied to other jobs as well, but he had all his hopes pinned on the institute. When he got the interview, he was practically vibrating with nerves the entire time. The whole thing was a bit weird, Elias is definitely a bit of a freak who learned what a smile is from a WikiHow guide, but he did get the job!

And ended up in the bloody library.

Sure, having very easy access to every book you could possibly want on supernatural creatures is great, but zero access to the research department is not great. It also doesn't help that there are actually very few books on cryptids, and most of his coworkers thought they were a load of rubbish.

All in all, Martin does what he can before simply returning to independent research (i.e. Reddit threads. Grim). That is, until he got moved to the archives.

It's all he could have ever asked for: two hundred years worth of statements and research packed away into a maze of shelves where no one can see him rummaging around and taking notes on the book he hides in his desk drawer. A boss who doesn't seem to mind, if downright encourages, employees staying late, even if he is a bit of a dickhead about it (a very handsome dickhead, but that's a matter for Martin to think about elsewhere). And two coworkers who are truly entertained by Martin's Origin Story and hand him files to read on werewolves in America, and vampire killers. He swears he was only a little disappointed to find out that vampires are not as sexy as they are, according to Anne Rice.

This is all to say, Martin is finally going on another proper Cryptid Hunt.

Now, Martin has never set foot in a proper research facility, but he thinks he's onto something. Statement after statement has been cropping up about a monster roaming London in the night, that speaks in static and has dozens of eyes. It's like nothing Martin has ever heard before. He's determined to find it. He's got his digital camera, he has a torch and plenty of backup batteries, he has a Polaroid camera, just in case cryptids don't capture well on digital—which he assumes they won't, if the statements won't even record without the tape recorder.

Speaking of tapes, he'll need to find some blank tapes to record anything important on. Not that he thinks a Polaroid wouldn't be enough proof, he just- he likes the Lo-fi charm, alright? It's—as much as Jon detests the word—spooky.

It's not his first rodeo borrowing (stealing) the odd item for one of his hunts, but this time he's more nervous. Jon has made it very clear that Martin is on thin ice, especially after letting a dog into the archives and it causing a mess on the floor. So, he tries his best to be very careful when he picks the lock to Jon's door and stuffs a couple tapes into his satchel. It's all going surprisingly swimmingly until he runs into Jon on the way out after getting his coat.

"Martin?" Jon calls as he spots him. "Did you see anyone going into my office?"

"Mm, no," Martin says, like a liar. He's always been good at lying. That's not great for his character, but it is great for him getting away with everything.

"Right, I must have forgotten to lock the door, then," he mumbles. Jon has his coat on and his bag over his shoulder, which is odd considering Martin doesn't think he's ever seen Jon leave on time. He shows up early and he leaves late; as far as Martin knows, he could bloody live down here.

"Are you heading out already?" Martin risks asking. It's not that he wants Jon to work himself to death, but could he maybe start his self improvement journey when Martin isn't trying to walk out with stolen Institute property?

"Yes, I have, uh—" Jon waves a hand as he thinks, "—plans. I have plans. Shall we head out together?"

The suggestion throws him off, as do many things Jon does. He has these odd moments of treating Martin no different from Tim and Sasha, then the next minute going back to calling him useless. Martin tries to cherish the few and far between acts of kindness Jon dishes out, but he tends to ruin it with his face going bright red and starting to stutter and fumble with what he wants to say. Then Jon will usually side-eye him and tut and the moment will be over and Martin has failed to woo his hot boss once again and—

"Martin?" Jon interrupts, head tilted and brow furrowed.

"Oh! Oh, uh, yeah, sure, let's- let's go!" Martin lets out a nervous chuckle and Jon sends him an odd side-eye, and tuts, and sets off towards the lift. Martin curses under his breath and follows.

It's a little awkward in the lift, tense in a way that Martin is sure Jon doesn't feel. He clears his throat quietly.

"So, what plans do you have?" he asks, hoping Jon didn't actually intend on walking side by side in silence to the front door.

"Hm?" Jon raises a brow at him, like he's said something truly outrageous, then his eyes widen a little. "Oh- nothing much, just- visiting a friend from my uni days. Anything planned for yourself?"

"Not much." Martin shrugs. "Hoping to have a nice night in, you know?" Jon hums and nods a little as the lift sings and opens to the ground floor. The chit chat is idle and dull as they make their way through the dwindling crowds filtering out of the Institute, and they share curt goodbyes as they part ways.

_____

Martin triple checks his bag for maybe the millionth time: he has a camera, digital and analog, his phone, water, a few snacks, a torch, a loaded tape recorder and an extra cassette, and some basic first aid items. He has everything. It's time to set off.

The grass is dry and crunches beneath his feet as he makes his way into the woods. He tries to walk confidently, as if confidence is all he needs to warn off a thing that one statement said could most accurately be described as a fucking dragon. This is an impeccably stupid idea to begin with, so who cares if puffing his chest out makes him feel a little safer.

He ditches the path and wanders off into the trees, knowing how bad of an idea that is, and doing it anyway.

The light from the torch sends stark shadows streaking along the ground and up the trees, startling animals off in the distance, but no dragon. Martin knows it's not close because he can still hear the vague chitters of squirrels and insects. He walks slowly, carefully, because it's not going to be any help if he scares them off himself. He swallows as his nerves start to get to him. Maybe talking will take his mind off of it. He starts the tape recorder with a clunky click.

"Okay, erm... documentation of Martin Blackwood going Cryptid Hunting, because he's a bloody moron, tape one. I've found the area that a lot of these statements mentioned, it's a pretty popular walking trail, so hopefully this will come up with something."

A breeze sends a shiver down his spine as he checks all around him, pointing the thin beam of light through the spindly trees. His footsteps are light as he can manage, barely rustling the grass and fallen leaves. He doesn't see anything except a grey forest, illuminated by shitty LEDs, and he hasn't seen anything for the last twenty minutes.

"I'm starting to think this is a lost cause. I mean, it's getting late, and it's bloody freezing, I might just turn back." And he clicks the recorder off. The quiet in the absence of the whirring tape makes him feel even worse.

He tries to follow back the way he came. He winds through familiar enough looking trees and broken branches and rocks and logs. Then he walks past the same bunch of trees twice, and sees a log that he swears he saw ten minutes ago, and a small stream that he thinks he's already stepped over. In what feels like no time, it's been an hour and he hasn't found the trail. He quickly and quietly curses under his breath, panic starting to settle in at the fact that he's lost in a woods with frequent monster sightings.

"See, kids, this is why you follow the walking path," he mutters into the recorder. "Don't do what I do, for Christ's sake." He turns it back off, to preserve space on the tape, but it clicks back on by itself. With a shaky breath, he turns it back off. It turns on again. "Shit, don't tell me the recorder's broken..."

He holds the thing up to his face, trying to inspect the buttons for damage, but he doesn't know how tape recorders work so it's not revealing much.

A branch snaps somewhere behind him. Not a thing branch, or a twig, but a heavy, crunching snap, that sends the forest into silence. Nothing fills the air except Martin's quickened breathing and the whir of the tape. And possibly a short shriek from him, but that's unimportant.

Martin shines the light in every direction, hand shaking as he frantically searches the darkness for a presence. The tape recorder clicks itself off, then starts to play. His own voice comes out garbled and backwards through the tinny speakers of the recorder. It crackles and starts to fade into static. The thing shakes in his hands and he thinks maybe he should put the thing down, when something comes out of it, through the cacophony of static.

"Martin..."

The man in question freezes for only a second before he fumbles to pull his Polaroid camera out of his bag, not bothering with the digital. With the shrieking tape record tucked under his arm, he stands with his camera poised, listening out for movement. He hears a rustle on his left and whips around, taking a picture in that direction.

In the brief second that the flash lights up the trees, he sees it: an enormous, black creature with sickly green eyes covering every inch of its face, twisted horns reaching up into the branches and taloned feet reaching over the bushes. A mane of fur covers its back and neck, tapering down its chest. A tail audibly swishes behind it. And it was looking right at him.

The camera spits out a picture and Martin barely even notices. He takes off in a run.

The creature doesn't make any noise as it follows, doesn't roar or growl or anything, but Martin can hear it crashing against trees and clawing at the wood and ground. He can tell that it's bounding towards him. The recorder is practically screaming and it hurts his ears. He looks over his shoulder, and suddenly understands why three separate people called it a dragon. The thing has six legs and it's leaping from tree to tree like an awful overgrown squirrel.

In his terror, watching it grow closer and closer, Martin trips over a branch and goes flying to the ground. He rolls onto his back, scrambling to kick himself away as the creature closes in. He doesn't get very far as it slams a giant hand down on his chest and stomach. Martin screams bloody murder, kicking his legs in the hopes of hitting anything within reach, pushing at the leg and pulling at its fur.

Martin has always wanted to see another monster, but this is just a little too close for comfort. The thing stares at him with its too many eyes, and they each start to glow, starting from the centre at radiating outwards, the pupils thinning into tiny slits.

Martin feels pinned (in a more metaphorical sense than how he is very literally being pinned to the ground). He feels like he's getting an x-ray, like this monster has peeled him open and is stripping him bare. He's completely frozen under its oppressive gaze. He doesn't know how he's so sure, but he is filled with the inescapable dread that it now knows every last detail of his entire life.

He doesn't realise he hasn't been breathing until the feeling stops, and he gasps in deep, gulping breaths, tears falling down his temples. The static from the tape recorder—which had been abandoned to his left when he fell and had still been screeching—starts to quiet down, evening out into a steady white noise. The monster blinks all its eyes in unison, and the pupils have each grown rounder, filling out most of the eyes.

"Martin," the recorder says again. That voice- Martin knows that voice, where does he know that voice? "Martin...?"

"H-... hello?" he whimpers. He wonders if this is recording. "Are you... is that you? Speaking?"

"The tape," the monster says, glancing to the recorder. It—he?—sounds almost more confused than Martin. "It hears me."

The voice is deep and a little bewildered. Martin can't help but think it's the kind of voice you could find reading an audiobook. There's a curious aspect to it, a need to know more that is impossibly familiar. How the hell does he know his name?

He squints, no longer convinced that he's about to be gored or eaten. He swears he knows that voice, that posh, over exaggerated accent, the way it says Mahhhtin- wait, holy shit—

"Jon?!"

The monster- creature- thing– Jon looks back at Martin, shocked for a moment, then he hurriedly sits back. The six legs fold up surprisingly easily into a cat-like position.

"Martin, what the hell are you doing out here?" says the voice coming from the recorder. Says Jon. Says Martin's boss. He's having a bit of a time, okay?

"What am I doing? What are you doing?" Martin spits as he scrambles to sit up. "You mean to tell me you're a- a what? A dragon? A monster? A giant ferret that can only speak through a tape recorder? You don't even have a mouth!"

Jon stares, very unimpressed.

"What I mean is, it's very dangerous to be out here this late, especially off-trail." Jon chuffs as the recorder speaks. There's an odd purring rumbling from his chest. "I'm taking you back to your car. Come on."

"Oh, like you know the way," Martin grumbles, but still grabs the tape recorder and straightens out his bag, standing to follow.

"Like this, I know everything, Martin," Jon says, voice low and gravelly in a way that makes Martin's face go hot and red. Jon shuffles around and nudges him between his shoulders with his snout. "Now, let's get a move on."

Martin trudges alongside the giant dragon-Jon, who stoops his head down to seem closer to Martin's height, head tilted at an angle to lay his horns flat against his shoulders, instead of catching them on the branches. Part of him wants to try and make conversation. Part of him wants to forget this ever happened. A massive part of him wants to pet Jon's mane—it looks very soft and fluffy, and this close, he can see tufts of very dark green and dull grey amongst the black and he just really wants to sink a hand into it and—

"Yes, Martin, you can pet the mane," Jon sighs, rolling his eyes. Martin flushes from head to toe.

"How did you- what!" Martin squawks, and Jon laughs a little.

"You were thinking it very loudly at me," Jon explains. Martin stops in his tracks.

"Wh– you can read minds?"

"That's one way of putting it, I suppose."

"Well, don't read my mind, please."

"I can't exactly help it much." Jon rolls his eyes again and moves his neck within Martin's reach. "Go on, I suppose. If you still want to."

There's an odd look in Jon's eyes, looking almost expectantly at him. Hesitantly, Martin raises a hand, checking his face for signs that he was joking, and it doesn't seem so. Jon isn't the type to joke about that anyway, so he carefully reaches over and strokes the fur. It is soft. He carefully pets the fur down with the back of his hand, then sinks his hand a little further into the fluffy mass. At the firmer touch, Jon swings his neck to press into Martin's hand, so hard that he stumbles back.

The purring starts up again as Jon parks himself on the ground and leans heavily into Martin's arms. Martin laughs as he pets Jon's—again, his boss—chest and the back of his neck, wrapping arms around his as far as he can reach. The fur tickles his nose, and Jon rubs against him, all his eyes closing as the purr vibrates under his hands. His backmost leg starts kicking at the ground and a contended sigh comes from the recorder. Martin then laughs so loud in shock that he ruins the moment and Jon shakes him off.

He clears his throat. "Sorry, erm... let's continue."

Martin follows him through the woods with a smug little smile on his face. A question scratches at the back of his mind, but he isn't sure how to ask it without making things awkward. He figures, Jon will just, apparently, read his mind and find out anyway, so he might as well ask himself.

"So are you, like... fully in there?" he asks.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're- you're conscious in this- form, I guess." Martin thinks for a moment. "Side question, is this like a werewolf thing?"

"Well, first, I suppose you could call it a werewolf thing, it happens every few weeks. And to answer your initial question, kind of?"

"So then why did you chase me down like you were going to kill and eat me?"

"I- I do apologise for scaring you," Jon starts, guiltily bowing his head. "Though, I will admit, it was my intention. I didn't recognise you. Or- I did, but it didn't register? Usually, like this, my brain is a lot more... simple. Straightforward, I suppose is a better way of putting it. Like my sentience takes the back seat to make room for something more- primal. Being able to speak through the tape recorder seems to put me back at the forefront."

Martin doesn't know what kind of answer he was expecting, but it wasn't that.

"So you've got some kind of... animal brain when you're—" Martin tries to find a delicate way to put it, and fails, "—this thing?" Okay, that was possibly the worst way he could have described it. He's totally blowing it with his hot monster boss.

"Sure," Jon huffs.

"That explains why you went all cat-ish when I pet you," he chuckles, and Jon pushes him with his head.

All in all, it's a rather pleasant walk back to his car, with the lumbering Jon next to him and his six legs thumping on the ground with each step. He's almost a little disappointed that it's over when he dumps his bag in the back seat and turns back to Jon with a quiet sigh. He has to tilt his head back all the way to look at his face. Sat back on his haunches, middle and front legs politely tucked in at his chest and stomach, combined with the long, slender horns, makes him easily ten feet tall.

(A far cry from his five-foot-five boss.)

"So," Martin says.

"So," the tape recorder says. Jon blinks his many eyes. "I'll see at work on Monday."

"Yup."

"Right. On you go, then." He swoops down and nudges Martin towards the car with his snout, then turns and heads back into the forest. Martin watches for a moment, then opens the door and collapses into the driver's seat. Jon looks back at him through the bushes. Even with the door closed, the recorder crackles out one last message: "Oh, and Martin?"

"Yeah?" He knows Jon Knows he's answered.

"Don't tell anyone about this."

And Jon disappears into the dark.

_____

By the time Martin gets home, he realises that his picture is still in the woods, and it takes all his will power not to drive back and hope Jon is still roaming around and will help him find it. But, then again, Jon probably won't want loose evidence of him being a were-dragon-ferret-whatever.

In a slightly foul mood, Martin goes to sleep.

_____

On Monday, Martin makes very awkward eye contact with Jon as he delivers his tea.

He tries to make small talk in the break room and fails miserably.

He gets no work done for the entire day. But, at five o'clock, after he's returned from washing the mugs, he finds a Polaroid of Jon on his desk, and a note.

The sticky note reads: 'Sorry for knocking you over. Still don't tell anyone.'

Martin keeps the Polaroid folded in his wallet. He doesn't tell a soul.

[crazylittlejester]

Because Tumblr ate my ask the last time I sent it I've taken the liberty of resending it and hoping it doesn't get eaten.

So I've played violin for over half my life and have been in sting orchestra for a majority of that. As such I wish to share which members of the chain would play which instruments!

Sky would play both violin 1 and harp. But like, the big harp. Sky just has chill violin 1 vibes. Like not not an ass about being violin 1 but he clearly cares about playing. Honestly he gives me second seat vibes.

Time gives the vibes that he would play cello. Some people might argue that he would play the the string bass but I disagree. Time is too much of a troublemaker to truly match the chill vibes a bassist. So thus, cello. Also the cellos hold at least a bit of chaos.

Wild would be a chaotic violin 2. Wild just seems like he would match with the violin and I can't really see him as a violin 1.

Warriors would be violin 1 and the concert master. He just matches the smug violin 1 energy. I do truly love him but he is a bit of a bastard sometimes. He good and he knows it and makes sure everyone else does as well. (He totally isn't trying to make up for the fact that he feels frustrated over watching others excel easily while he had to struggle heavily to become skilled.

Wind would be violin 2. He probably started violin in an attempt to be more like Wars. Idk just vibes.

Legend would be a viola. I don't care if in cannon he owns/plays cello. Legend gives off viola vibes. No I will not be taking criticism. Also the banter with Wars would be fun.

Hyrule also gives viola vibes. I'm not really sure how to explain it.

Four would be a bassist. He gives the right kind of chill vibes. And having the smallest member of the chain play the biggest instrument is at least a little bit funny. Call me juvenile if you must.

Twilight would be a cellist like time. His vibes just fit really well. I was considering him for bassist but then decided his vibes just weren't quite right.

Well hope you enjoy this!

emig22 💛

NO YOU’RE SO RIGHT ABOUT THESE. YOU FUCKING ATE ALL OF THIS, NO NOTES, NO ARGUMENTS, YOU ATE.

i wanted to play violin soooooooo badly as a kid, but i never got the chance, and now I wouldn’t be able to, but I find it seriously cool you’ve been playin’ so long! Thats genuinely so awesome

i definitely enjoyed this thanks so much for sharing!!! :)

[green-like-the-sky]

hello! i hate to seem impatient, but did you receive my ask about your time travel au tomtom headcanons? i'm worried that tumblr might've eaten it. thanks! ^^

BESTIE I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY tumblr didn't eat it i just forgor

ok, tomtom time travel headcanons! this is long and rambling sorry

full disclosure i started tinkering with a time travel au for them right after i read The Mirror and the Light, so back in 2020(!). Since I got back into Wolf Hall recently, I decided to pick it up again. I don't want to give away all the plot points so some spoilers are under the cut!

they come through to modern London just before More's trial (opening scene of the fic posted here!). The Tower is a crossing point in my mind, so much has taken place there and so many lives have been lost that the temporal walls are thin. Other people from their time have crossed through too. Perhaps they meet up with them in the future... (they 100% do)

Cromwell is convinced modern London is not real, he's just hallucinating or having a fever relapse and it takes him a few days to come to terms with the fact that yes, they're really 500 years in the future. The things that have stayed the same (more or less) convince him. The Thames. The trees on Putney Heath. More being insufferable now as he was then.

More actually accepts the time travel pretty quickly but he pretends not to because he knows that will annoy Cromwell.

they are told by their host (spoilers!) not to google themselves, because they can't know their historical fates in case they ever get transported back to 1500s (nobody knows how the time travel works, or if it will happen again)

(the internet, generally, is astounding and More immediately wants to know what became of Erasmus and who the Pope is now)

Later they both confess to googling themselves anyway. Not to know what their own fates were, but what became of Gregory and Meg. Bonding moment!

After they have acclimatised for a couple of days they are let out to explore London on their own. They get lost on the tube. They go to a coffee shop and don't know how to order so end up just ordering what the people in line ahead of them got (iced mocha with whipped cream nearly kills More)

Cromwell wonders what he could have achieved in Henry's court, with internet access.

Cromwell also wonders what he could have achieved in Henry's court, caffeinated.

They contemplate starting a podcast (thankfully they are talked out of this)

Eventually Cromwell realises the insufferableness of More is not actually insufferable. Sudden overwhelming realisation that perhaps the reason he tried so hard to make him take the oath was that back then he was in love with him. More: didn't you know?

They hook up.

The fic ends with them having been in the future for four years and counting. They're both perfectly happy. More is a university lecturer (his knowledge of european reformation literature is astounding, his colleagues think!). Cromwell has been dabbling in law again. They've got a nice place with a little garden, plenty of room for More's animals (Cromwell makes fun but he does have a black cat of his own)...

ANNE is the only other person from their time period who also came through the doorway in the Tower. It happened just before her own execution so she is slightly ahead of them, in Tudor-timeline. She also has been in the future for 20 years, she's thoroughly established, she fits neatly in to modern London, she has a great job, she's divorced with a grown up daughter.

(her grown up daughter is the person who finds the Toms in the Tower, believes who they say they are and takes them back to Anne's flat the first night).

Anne slaps Cromwell when she first meets them in modern times. She ignores More.

Anne is annoyed they are there, but knows how they're feeling and what they need to do to survive in the 2020s. It's also nice to see familiar faces, even if it is them

They end up all going to a karaoke bar and get drunk, and, well, 500 years is a long time to hold a grudge.

The Toms' girldad instincts kick in around Anne's daughter. She's in the first year of her undergrad and More can't resist helping with essays. Cromwell bonds with her over the weirdness of them both being separated from family by half a millenium (she's desperate to know about her 'big' sister, Elizabeth I!)

I have rambled on a lot here sorry but that's a general overview! if you want to know anything else please do ask!!

[alolanrain]

Since this got eaten by tumblr the last time, but Lance and Drake putting aside their feud for Ash in TA!AU when Ash comes back from a very trying mission with the International League. Lance takes Ash to the top of Mount Silver for a week, where it is just silent meals, battles, and watching the sunrise/set before going back to the Plateau and eating nothing but take-out for 3 days, which causes Ash to break whatever mask of false wellness he was wearing and ends up falling asleep on Lance's couch, a certain cape covering him as a blanket. Drake will wait for him at Pummelo and take him to their old training grounds aka an abandoned island where there is only some trees but no Pokemon to get hurt and let Ash just vent/and destroy, but always has his back turned so Ash has some privacy. Ash stays in his old room from his training days, amused that it hasn't changed one bit but also sad and wishes some days he could just be 10 years old again. Mornings usually find Ash and Drake sitting on the beach, each drinking something alcoholic out of a coconut while watching their Pokemon play in the surf in silence. Lance and Drake both hate that assassinations for the International League are considered a necessity. Even Drake wanted Ash to join the G-Men but politics be damned Ash was never really given a choice as the Chosen One. Sure Lance and Drake fight due to years of bad blood and generational trauma but they can and will set that aside for one child who was forced to grow up faster than most.

I love this, I really do but this is just… not the trios relationship in the au.

Let’s start with Lance. He’s a motherfucker in his own right-a right cunt if you will-but he’s better than Delia if Ash had to rank the mass of people that he knows. Lance is still by far not the favorite despite the blood relations to Ash by being his hand uncle, which actually hinders his relationship quite a bit since Lance still actively talks to Delia and initially tries a while to get Ash to talk to her again. Only stopping in the first place after Ash had blow up at him for the first time and cut contact with Lance.

That event was the catalyst of the growing mountain of proof that Ash can’t live in Kanto anymore. Moving to set his primary residency from Kanto/Johto elite four castle, previously changing it from Delia’s residency right after his snap at the end of the Unova when the INL allowed Ash to travel after staying with Rowan under the man’s care for a year and a half, to Rowan’s permanently. Going bro contact with lance didn’t let up until after Kalos and it’s almost world ending event.

It actually takes a while for Lance to even drop the subject of Delia as a whole. He quickly stops trying to physically force Ash to see Delia when he surprised Ash one time with her by his side for a “league meeting”. The black eye that refused to leave his face for a solid month was a very painful reminder of that meetings very abrupt conclusion.

Drake, on the other hand, is much higher on Ash’s like list. Despite Drake taking on a lot more of the Secondary Champion aspect of Ash’s job that allowed Ash to travel without hesitation, they still butt heads now and then. Especially more when Ash had a lot of free time on his hand after Unova and was able to take over a lot of busy work from Drake’s desk. They clashed over budgeting, potential laws, what the Professor’s can and can’t do with the wildlife around all the islands. What they complexity agree on, and still do to this day, is that whenever a legendary or rare Pokémon appears to cause a ruckus or something else along the lines it immediately becomes Ash’s problem. Even if Ash is on the opposite side of the world it is still his problem.

Drake absolutely refuses to touch a legendary or mythical with a twenty yard pole. He hasn’t had to during his reign of Champion and he’s not starting now. Even though Ash agree’s that it’s best if he takes care of the legendary bullshit that happens in the isles it is still a hassle to put whatever he’s doing on hold to fly out to the isles and deal with it. It put’s a lot of things in danger and even though Drake is the best person to reroute the path of the people living on the islands so their safe, that is ultimately the extent of what he can do regardless. His team isn’t used to fighting Legendaries and or somehow, giving the situation, enhanced or changed Pokemon.

All three of them have their good moments together despite all of this. Lance and Drake really do care about Ash and his physical and mental health and despite the ever shifting changes of certain levels of contact with the two older men, ultimately they can’t really offer anything to Ash to alleviate his stress other than what their already doing. It double suck’s because they have to go around Ash to talk to other people to get actual update’s on Ash and it always never fails to piss Ash off even more when he always finds out when they go around him.

[tgmsunmontue]

Another Time (Chapter 6/14)

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE

Summary: Jake wakes up in Rooster's body about ~30 or so hours post-Mission and they have to deal with it. They're adults. Apparently.

(Posting on Tumblr, chapter a day until it's complete, after it's complete I will post it on AO3 once a day until it's completed there as well).

Odd chapter = Jake POV, Even chapter = Bradley POV

CHAPTER SIX

                Bradley had slept for over two hours, waking in the same position he’d fallen asleep. He’s surprised he even fell asleep with how his mind hasn’t been able to easily settle since he woke up in Hangman’s bunk. Of course sleeping beside him made things easier somehow. He honestly has no idea what they can do to fix things. He watches Hangman sleep, but it’s his own body, it’s weird looking at himself and worrying about someone else. He wants to brush his hands through his hair, press a kiss to his forehead, just wants to look after him… He sighs quietly and doesn’t make any move to carry out any of his drifting thoughts.  

                It’s nearly eighteen hundred, stomach reminding him he hasn’t eaten enough throughout the day and this is a problem he can fix. He heads to his kitchen and quickly sets out to make omelets, grabbing the eggs and other ingredients he’d purchased online and then collected. He chops, grates, trying to allow his mind to focus on the repetitive actions.

                “You certainly know your way around Rooster’s kitchen…” Bradley jumps, the knife he’d been wielding dropping from his hands. “Now, either the two of you were playing us all for fools, or something has fucking changed.”

                “A lot has changed…” he starts, because that’s not an outright lie, and his mind is scrambling again, and the only thing he can think is tell her the truth, tell her the truth, tell her the truth even though a logical part of his brain is screaming back that she’ll never believe him.

                “Yeah, not least when I came by earlier the two of you were snuggled together and asleep.”

                “Nat…”

                “Bagman.”

                Her tone pulls him up short and she sounds furious. This isn’t his best friend, this is someone who tolerates Hangman, who he currently is. Okay. Truth it is then.

                “No. He’s… okay, this is going to sound crazy. And you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone. Except Bob.”

                “I’m not promising you anything.”

                “Nat, it’s me. Rooster. Bradley. Somehow Hangman and I switched bodies and now I’m trying to figure out how to talk with Mav, because we kind of made-up when we saved each other’s lives, but I’m still fucking pissed with him. But I’m alive because Hangman saved both of us, and we’re, God, I don’t know, heading towards something,” he scrubs at his face then and the lack of moustache makes him feel like crying. “And I’m freaking out because I don’t know what to deal with first, but at least I don’t have to deal with my body in so much pain it’s making Hangman puke.”

                “You’re right. This does sound crazy. And complete bullshit.”

                “Ugh. Fuck. Go on. Ask me anything. That only I would know.”

                Her eyes narrow and Bradley is cast back to a moment in flight school that they’d both sworn to never talk about again.

                “Okay. Fine. What was the name of the first woman you slept with?”

                And they’re going there.

                “You. It was you. Natasha Trace. My first and last time dipping into the horrifying depths of heterosexuality.”

                “Holy shit.”

                “I know.”

                “I need a drink.”

                He turns and grabs a beer from his fridge, popping the cap before passing it to her, watching in silence as she downs it without breathing before placing the empty bottle on the bench.

                “Better?”

                “No. It didn’t solve anything. What the fuck are you going to do?”

                “I can’t do anything. I don’t know how it happened in the first place. And fucking Hangman is…” he gestures helplessly.

                “Hangman is Hangman who is currently in your body…”

                “Yeah. And I think he likes me.”

                “Oh, he definitely likes you. It started off with just wanting to fuck you, but apparently, he’s been carrying a torch.”

                “Oh god…” Part of him feels a little thrill at that piece of information, although he wonders how she knows that exactly.

                “Don’t call him that, his ego is plenty big enough already.” Bradley can’t help his bark of laughter. “But we need to get Coyote here. Need to let Hangman tell him, – oh shit. How are you guys going to do the debrief tomorrow?”

                “I think I’m going to need to tell Mav. Ice as well…” he winces, because there are some very hard conversations in his future, and not being in his own body isn’t going to make things any easier. And right now he needs to explain who Ice is. “I told you about Mav being my father figure, and how he pulled my papers… well, his… uh,” he scrunches his face, not happy with what he’s about to do. Nat already knows he was raised by two men in a romantic relationship, but he’d always failed to mention who they were. It’s only the who which has recently come to light. Nat had put the pieces together, realizing Mav had been the father figure Bradley had been so angry with when they’d first met. Ice though…

                His relationship with Ice is even more awkward to think about than his one with Maverick. It’s been straight-forward anger and betrayal with Maverick, and he’d been angry with Ice as well to start with, because he’d known that Ice could have (probably) stopped Maverick from pulling his papers. But he didn’t. However he did reach out and help him sort out a lot of shit as he navigated adulthood and the Navy and deployments. Ice is why he has his parent’s house and while he doesn’t get to stay there very often, knowing that it’s there and it’s his, and Ice helped with that went a long way to him getting over his anger with him.

                “Ice? As in Iceman? Admiral Thomas Iceman Kazanksy? The COMPACFLT?”

                Her voice gets higher and higher with each question and okay. So she’s going to just keep snapping these connections together like they’re Lego and she’s got all the instructions. He’s not going to mention that Ice is his emergency contact after her. That probably wouldn’t go down so well either.

                “How well do you know the Admiral Bradley?”

                “Ouch. First name.”

                “Yes. Tell me.”

                “Him and Mav were together when I was a kid…” He feels sick, because he remembers having to keep that a closely guarded secret, all the little precautions Mav and Ice took to ensure they were never… too together. And he’s never asked Ice if he’s still with Mav, has steered well away from personal topics in their emails back and forth. Tried to just not care about Mav. Figured if he died Ice would tell him.

                “And you don’t know if they’re still together?”

                “No. But…”

                “Admiral Kazansky was on the carrier when Mav was taking part in what everyone considered a suicide mission. They’re totally together. Wow.”

                Bradley isn’t sure he’d take that bet but he’ll let Nat roll with it. Ice wouldn’t have to be with Mav to still care for him. His relationship with Bradley is proof that once you have him on your side, he’s there forever.

                “Well, the Admiral can probably do your debrief… Hangman’s too.”

                And just like that one of his problems seems to have a possible solution, because he had seen Ice and Mav together on the carrier, made him glad that they still had each other even if they were maybe not together like they used to be. He hadn’t seen them get close enough to touch each other, but he knew that didn’t mean anything when it came to them. Ice hadn’t made any approach to talk to him though, although he guesses he wasn’t exactly available and he hasn’t been the best at emailing the last few years except for holidays and birthdays.

                “Okay, now I just need to talk to Mav and tell Hangman the plan.”

                “Text Mav from your phone, tell him you need to talk first thing tomorrow. Ask him to have Admiral Kazansky there as well. You have enough eggs for three?”

                “I… wait. What? Eggs. Yeah, sure. Think you can get Coyote around?”

                She scoffs and rolls her eyes.

                “Easy. And Bob. I am not leaving Bob out of this. He’s probably got ideas about how to fix this.”

                “Yeah, okay.”

                At least something is happening now, even if he doesn’t feel in control of any of it.

SEVEN

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Ok this isn’t directed at anyone or any fandom — also I actually can’t scroll my dash at the moment so forgive me if this has been discussed lol — but as someone who has a healthy interest in pop culture and the entertainment industry but doesn’t follow any fandom other than Taylor’s, and even at that only in a very curated niche of it, but is it really plausible that Taylor is directly targeting Billie or any other artist with her releases?

I find it really hard to believe a voice memo album repackage only sold on her website or a single remix would make that much of an impact on her numbers or other artists. Obviously they’re released for a reason and every bit helps and it’s to help maintain the momentum on the charts, but I would just be genuinely surprised if those alone could be enough to block another artist’s anticipated release.

To me, releasing bonus content/remixes/whatever a few weeks after an initial release seems to be pretty par for the course not just for Taylor but for many pop artists. I feel like I hear of so many who will release an acoustic or remix version or special limited time offer vinyl or whatever when numbers start to stabilize or decrease to keep charting for a little while. It doesn’t seem to my like Taylor’s schedule for TTPD is especially different from Midnights was, for example, and I don’t think much of it differs from what many pop acts are doing these days either.

If anything I think Taylor has held back considerably for TTPD. Not out of any kind of magnanimity or charity or anything, but just because I’m assuming that’s what feels right for her at the moment. A month or two ago so many people complained about how she was doing no promo for the album release. All she did, save for a couple of short teasers on social media, was release her album. No press, no interviews, no appearances. Aside from surprise dropping the album a la folklore, I don’t really know what else she could have done to be inconspicuous. And even with that, her album still went number one. I don’t think that’s out of any kind of Machiavellian scheming, I think she’s just that huge at the moment that anything she does is going to be news and going to be eaten up.

Yes, the limited time drops of merch on her website are annoying and sure the differing bonus tracks on her variants can be annoying, but again, it’s nothing other artists aren’t doing themselves. She had 5 variants of her album. Billie and Olivia and plenty of others easily double that. (And I’m not knocking them for that, I’m saying it’s normal for their industry and everyone does it.)

I’ve seen comments on non-tumblr spaces about how Taylor is stepping on the necks of other artists (like Billie) and I just don’t see how? She’s doing typical music business stuff and it doesn’t even seem particularly aggressive. Super aggressive would be releasing more signed physicals or a new variant with a different song or releasing The Anthology on physical or some other move that would appeal to the collector instincts in fans and drive raging capitalist tendencies. A couple of voice memos and a remix hardly seem like they’d make enough impact to significantly block also-big artists like Billie who are Grammy winners with huge fan bases themselves.

Taylor’s just so huge now that anything she does is going to loom large. Think about how Cruel Summer because a massive hit four years after it was released just by sheer streaming strength, and that was thanks to Eras piquing people’s interest. Taylor released a brand new double album in the middle of the biggest tour in the world and changed her set list to make it one of the most theatrical spectacles on social media at the moment. TTPD is kind of assured staying power for the foreseeable future for that alone. (Not to mention the increased interest in her personal life of late probably increasing streams of her music a tiny bit too. That’s probably an unfortunate byproduct of her fame, but when news drops I’d bet it does cause a brief spike.)

It’s not that I think Taylor does things purely out of the goodness of her heart or for artistic merit alone; I know she’s a shrewd businesswoman and I know she cares about charts and markers of success. I just don’t think she’s deliberately targeting other artists in some sort of feud. I’d bet she had her release plan pretty much pencilled in months ago, before anyone else’s releases were in the radar. This is chess, not checkers. Her imperial-level success at the moment does not mean she has to strategically cut off anyone else at the knees; it’s that she’s the closest thing we have to monoculture at the moment and she’s just everywhere whether she wants to be or not. She can make nearly zero effort to push the album and it’s still going to be number one. And the popularity will probably last through the summer thanks to Eras and the interest online.

So is the answer that she’s supposed to step aside for other artists? Is it unfair of her to occupy the national consciousness so pervasively? I genuinely don’t know though my gut instinct is no. No one would say that about other number one artists, but very few top artists are at her level of achievement at the moment. (I’d guess Beyoncé is probably her only contemporary in that regard right now.) I would very much bristle against that notion, because again, I don’t think anyone would tell any other artist that they’ve “had their turn” and should stop pushing their album so that someone else can have a shot. But Taylor is at such a level that even the most otherwise successful artists might struggle to overtake her for the time being.

And again in this specific case this week, we’re not talking about an indie act struggling to break through to their first big hit being struck down by Goliath. Billie is a multiple Grammy and Oscar winner! Her song was in one of the biggest movies of the year that dominated pop culture all summer! She is a headliner at festivals! She may not be quite at Taylor’s level of fame and numbers because no one is, but she has a huge fan base of her own! And I’m not pitting them against each other at all because I listen to her and Olivia and all kinds of current pop acts! My point is that Billie’s work speaks for itself as does her album release, just like Olivia and Dua and whoever else is releasing albums these days. At a certain point people need to step back and consider what is deliberate and what is just current industry trends that the pop acts in particular have to follow to get the numbers they want on the Billboard charts.

Maybe I’m completely wrong and maybe this is all a targeted plan to block other artists from taking over Number 1. But if I had to guess I really would think that at this point Taylor knows she’s going to dominate the charts no matter what she does — which is why she doesn’t have to make too many public moves anymore. Her fame and her work do it for her. I don’t doubt these extra drops help boost her numbers and there’s some sort of calculated reason why they come out when they do, I just don’t think that reason is “specifically block x person from beating me”. It’s probably more “try to maintain x sales” which at her level may de facto beat the next person behind her because she’s near untouchable, but the reasoning behind those actions is not the same, if you get what I mean.

It just all seems to be yet another point to villainize her for just doing her job and living her life, when at worst she’s just doing what everyone else is doing to play the system they all adhere do. It feels like another attempt to dehumanize her and turn her into this avatar for all of pop culture’s ills, ascribing her these Wicked Witch tendencies, when her team’s job, like all popular musicians’, is to make sales. It’s not that I think she’s some benevolent artist who doesn’t care because I’m sure she does, but I just find it really hard to believe the driving force is impeding other musicians as opposed to just maintaining her own sales. Perhaps the system is broken that any other act has trouble penetrating her dominance at the moment, and that’s another conversation, but if it were anyone else at this level of dominance right now, I’m positive none of these conversations would be happening to begin with.

[xxizombiexx]

Y/n the Vampire Pirate has a crush on Zoro!

Summery-In which Y/n agrees to join the Straw Hat Pirates because she saw a certain green haired man.

Warnings-cursing, blood, VAMPIRE!PIRATE!Reader, Fluff

A/n- this is my first time writing on tumblr, so please be kind! Also if you want to check out my other stories, my Wattpad is GirlWhoWrites09, thanks for reading!

Blood ran down her chin, as she sucked the blood of the enemy who tried to attack her. She groaned in satisfaction, as she throws her head back, with closed eyes. "I haven't eaten in days" she thought to herself. She honestly couldn't remember when the last time she ate was.

"Hey!" A voiced yelled out, causing her eyebrows to fur together in confusion. "Hey you!" Whoever it was again. The girl let out sort of a angry growl as she looked up at the boy who was shouting at her. "Who are you?" She asked, quite angerly. Y/n let go of the, now dead, man, and stood up, placing her hands on her hips.

"I'm Monkey D. Luffy! And I'm gonna be King of the Pirates!" 'Luffy' yelled once more. Y/n tilted her head and looked at Luffy.

"'King of the Pirates'? Kid, I don't wanna burst your bubble, and no offense, but that's nearly impossible." She stated. Luffy just laughed, causing Y/n to have a ick mark on her face. "I'm serious kid!" Y/n shouted. "I've been searching for the one piece for years!" Obviously this kid doesn't know what the hell he is talking about. I've been around for hundreds of years and yet I've never found that stupid One Piece yet! "Anyways, what the hell did you need me for? To get on my nerves?"

Luffy, who had tears in his eyes, now calmed down from his laughing fit. "I want you to join my crew!" He exclaimed. "I saw your moves and I got to say they're pretty cool!" Luffy said with a big smile on his face. Suddenly, four other people walked up behind the Straw Hat Pirate. A girl with orange hair, a guy with yellow hair, a guy with brow hair, and--a man with green hair. Y/n blushed at the sight of him. He's--so handsome! Y/n thought as she practically drooled over him. He carried three swords with him, and had a dark green band tired around his head.

Unfortunately, Y/n had to decline this offer. "Uh, no thanks." Y/n said, a she began to walk away. Not like she wanted to join anyways. She had her own adventures that needed to be taken care of. "Hey! Wait!" Luffy yelled chasing after her. "Come on! Just think about it!"

"I said no!" Y/n said, slapping the pirate upside the head. "You don't even know who I am!" She crossed her arms in anger, stopping herself from attacking this poor boy. "Oww" luffy mumbled, rubbing his head. "What if we treated her to a drink instead of begging?" The green haired man suggested. "And you can talk about it there." He said. Luffy then smiled his big smile again. "Hey! Great idea Zoro!" So his name is Zoro? And he's in this boy's crew, huh? "Hm, Fine." Y/n agreed.

Y/n couldn't help but to stare at the green haired man named Zoro. Especially how much hotter he was when he took off that dark green band off. There was just something about him. "Who are you staring at?" Luffy asked, taking a bite of his apple. "Wait- are you staring at Zoro?" He asked a little too loudly. Y/n clenched her teeth together, causing her fangs to stick out. She shoved the rest of the boy's apple in his mouth, in attempts to shut him up. "Oh!" Exclaimed the orange haired girl name Nami. "We've been meaning to ask--Who are you?" Y/n smiled to herself and stood up from her seat.

"I'm Y/n L/n, the Vampire Pirate!" She exclaimed, placing a booted foot on her chair. Luffy eyes widened when he heard the word 'Pirate'. Zoro scoffed saying "There's no such thing as a vampire." Y/n blushed at his words--more like at him..? "Well there is! And that's me!"

"That's perfect!" Shouted Luffy. "Please join my crew!" He was practically begging at this point. Y/n bit her lip thinking to herself. "Hm, are all of you in this 'crew'?" And by 'all of you' she meant Zoro. Everyone nodded their heads. "He's our captain." Zoro said. "F-Fine." She muttered, sitting back down. Luffy cheered out of happiness. Another member of his crew!

Y/n watched as Zoro sat on the edge of the boat, looking out to the waters. She she fidgeted with her fingers, debating on wether or not she wanted to go out and talk to him. "Are you just going to stand there? Or do you want to join me?" He asked. Y/n looked around, seeing if he was talking to someone else, but there wasn't anyone else there. Y/n gave a shakey sigh and walked up to the ledge he sat on. "Hi." She chuckled, looking at up him. He looked so handsome looking out into the sea like that. "I-I like your hair. I've never seen anyone with green hair. And I've been around for a long time." She said, after a minute of silence. Zoro chuckled and looked towards her. "Thanks." He said, looking into her eyes. "I like your eyes. Never seen anyone with red eyes."

Y/n blushed at his complement, and looked down at her hands. Zoro slid over, and patted the spot next to him, inviting the vampire to sit next to him. She looked at him with her mouth opened a little before climbing onto the ledge. He then put an arm around her shoulder. Her blush didn't go away, infact she got even more redder. Zoro chuckled once more at the state the girl was in.

The Straw Hat Pirates had now set sail out in the ocean! With another member, they set off to the grand line looking for the One Piece!

[en-abime-updates]

June 17th

Morning

Player sylvan receives a response on the HELP form

Player Sylvan previously sent an ask through the HELP form that reads: “we saw the radio tower, we saw a box with a tape and some writing. we had searched the area. we have seen the tape. we read this https://www.en-abime.com/rec-81 we haven’t heard it out-loud. we don’t have access to the physical tape right now. we want to hear it outloud.”

At 9:21 AM they receive a response, where the entity says the player is “LYING” because “I KNOW YOU CAN’T SEE IT,”  but believes that “SOMEONE MUST HAVE SEEN IT” because the description is correct. It describes Henry’s geocache as “BUZZY” and tells us to check it again. It also says it has given us a place to put it, and the form on www.en-abime.com/help  updates with a place to put image links. 

Afternoon 

At 5:04 PM, Player Rhys receives a reply to their email that only reads “13/20” and has the “USE TOOLS FOR THEIR INTENDED PURPOSE” image. 

Players conclude that only responses related to geocaches/geocaching seem to not be incremented. 

Evening 

10:48 PM: Mal arrives at Tumblr! Her handle is @malsdesktop. She, Tati, Will, and Henry have a sweet reunion conversation. 

Summary: Everyone is very happy to see Mal! She and Henry can’t hug because she “gets ink on” him and they both aren’t “supposed to be here” :(. Mal and Tati had a running bet on when Henry and Will would start dating. Apparently, Tati won. 

10:52 PM: Mal reveals that she has forgotten how she got to Tumblr, and the friends realize part of her appears to have been destroyed by the twin. They continue their search for a safe place where they can hide from the twin, and realize that something outside the Abime has to be put there so they can all be comfortable there. They decide to lay low until that happens to avoid attracting the twin’s attention. 

Summary: Mal initially doesn’t remember how she got here. When she tries to remember something she wanted to tell Tati, it hurts her, and through her description Henry and Tati realize part of her got eaten by the twin.  The friends fill her in on their plan to move somewhere the twin can’t access, and Mal suggests building a new place out of their pieces, kind of like when she got “ZAPPED or DIGITIZED or whatever to FreeDF” and become neighbors with Thomas. They decide they need a place “just for the four of us” - the twins harm them if they get close to them, and Thomas is too spread out and therefore protected. They all agree to keep quiet in case the twin follows Mal to tumblr, although Mal says some “reblogs and asks couldn’t hurt THAT much right????” so maybe she’ll stick around. All four of them decide to talk in DMs for the time being. 

10:02/11:11/11:15 PM: Players notice that Mal’s Zine page is completely erased from the internet.

10:02 PM: Player m notices that Mal’s Zine page, the lyrics for her single Tear My Hair Out, are gone from www.en-abime.com/my-desktop. 11:11 PM: Player charles entertainment cheese notices that Mal’s Zine page is gone from the zine at https://www.en-abime.com/dans-des-circonstances-eternelles and replaced with a black screen. 11:15 PM: Player m notices that the cover to Tear My Hair Out on Youtube, which used to be a screenshot of Mal’s lyrics, is gone. 

11:22 PM: Players find a new page linked from Tati’s report card, with the grade on a final project from eighth grade which she presumably hid a time capsule for. Appetite pop-ups and Archive blackout text also populate the page. 

Summary: Selecting the text behind the blackout allows you to copy+paste it into a new window and read it. Tati’s teacher describes her as a disruptive and snarky student, and gave her a C- on her final project. However, her description gives multiple hints to the location of the time capsule, including that its location is probably “personally significant,” and that Tati’s hints for her were: “turn left at the e y e,” “o v e r the troll,” “don’t fall i n.” The teacher also mentions climbing a tree, being laughed at by middle schoolers on a bridge, and narrowly avoiding a stone wall. 

11:41 PM: Players ask Tati for 5 new channels in the Discord for finding each of the Geocaches. She complies. 

Theories: Players think the next steps are to find the geocaches, on both the Archive/Appetite and four character on Tumblr front. 

Things to do from this update: 

The five probable locations of the geocaches are New York City, NY, Bethesda, MD, New Haven, CT, Princeton, NJ, and Chicago, IL. IF YOU LIVE IN ANY OF THESE PLACES OR KNOW SOMEONE WHO DOES AND WOULD BE WILLING TO FIND A DATA GHOST GEOCACHE, CHECK OUT THE CHANNEL FOR IT IN THE DISCORD SERVER (or DM us here if you aren’t on the discord!) We want to have geocache retrieval teams ASAP to help the characters hide from the twin.

[danieyells]

Premium brain rot for you. The flower/lily falling into the blood during the pre-prolouge takes on a whole new meaning with the recent revelations.

TUMBLR HAS EATEN THIS ASK A COMICAL FOUR TIMES. I COPYPASTED THE LAST THING I WROTE THIS TIME. I'M GONNA TAKE THE IMAGES OUT AND SEE IF IT'LL TAKE IT THIS TIME.

THE FLOWERS ARE DIFFERENT but yeah, the flower is more obviously symbolic of the pc now. . .if not directly one of the pc's flowers(maybe the flowers differ for everyone who gets the curse? Lyca mentions that in spring there's a smell from the Obscuary garden that smells like the pc among the flowery smells. . .so maybe the flowers the pc will get are out there in Obscuary. It'd be interesting if the flowers changed based on who you chose in the beginning or what character or house you have the most affinity with or smth--)

Of course if it's one of the pc's flowers, that could straight up be them getting killed, maybe even before the curse fully kicked in. . .it could also be that they start to grow flowers a few months out from the end and someone's holding onto one. . .and maybe the institute is killing them for something. . . . But unless it's the pc themself being killed(time loop theory or otherwise) it's probably nothing that literal, just a reference to the pc's curse. . .but that still changes the meaning of that little opening scene quite a bit, yeah!