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#Would've died but so worth it!!!
rubberbandballqueen · 4 months
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About your tags: is there more that you can share about the OW fandom and fics? This was a phenomenon I wonder about too. It was one of the most popular fandoms around 2017-2018, but the way the fandom stopped on its tracks around 2019 was hard not to notice. Especially from people who didn't play the game but were aware of it's fandom.
oh! overwatch is one of about 50-ish fandoms i track for this one spreadsheet project i do as a hobby (which i Technically blog about @fandom-data-scientist, but i've been too lazy to do a proper writeup to explain what the hell it is i do), wherein i try to answer the age-old question: when did the weebs move to ao3?
(the answer is late 2015/early 2016. most likely this was in large part a result of undertale and sports anime, but that's currently just my own conjecture)
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According To My Research(tm), the overwatch fandom peaked in late 2016/early 2017 when it comes to the number of new fics posted per month. after this, it declined quite rapidly, as it didn't even get to enjoy a plateau period.
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(there's a reason why the plots are really wonky towards the end of this graph-- it's bc i found the past dates for number of fics archived to a particular site via the wayback machine. since those snapshots are typically bot crawls, the number of fics shown on the fandoms listings will not include fics that have been archive-locked. although i technically started this project in august 2022, i did not add overwatch to my tracking list until this june/july or so. my current guess for the small uptick in the rate of ow fics published to ao3 in october 2022 is that the sequel came out? and then the rate plunged for january 2023 bc of the ai scraping scare that happened at around that time-- nearly every single fandom i track had a significant drop right then bc everyone was archive-locking their fics. the rate shooting up in like july 2023 on this chart is bc like i said, that's when i added ow to my list of tracked fandoms; because i'm logged into my own ao3 acct when checking these numbers live, i get access to the archive-locked fics and so the display number goes up.)
in my experience, fandoms will generally kind of plateau in their fic production after their peak, which will ofc normally gradually taper off. games that receive regular lore or story updates probably have fairly long or stable plateaus, although i haven't made scatterplots or made any comparing analyses to prove this rigorously. this plateau period generally represents a time of fandom stability as the fair-weather, casual, or migratory slash fans run off to the next big thing.
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if we ignore the fact the plague and quarantine happened, we can see a nice, steady, and very consistent plateau period for the danganronpa fandom from about 2018-2020!
let's look at an older fandom, like my archnemesis final fantasy:
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granted, the ao3 numbers are kind of all over the place these days, but you kind of get my point by now, right? that healthy fandoms tend to plateau as the wind carries away the faintly-interested and leaves the long-haulers behind to form their communities.
overwatch struck me as unusual when i was on one of my long wayback machine trips because of the way there was a net increase of only two fics published from 1 july 2021 to 1 october 2021, when before then it had usually been in the hundreds or so. i then went on a work tangent n googled around n more or less concluded it had Something to do with some kind of scandal with the development company, but otherwise i don't really have any more comments on it hahaha.
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"I do not know why I was so easy to discard" OH MY GOD OUCH THAT HURTS ADAINE BABY IM SO SORRY
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motto-chanto-itte · 4 months
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i wanted 2 cry so bad before kaitos execution arrgghh 😭😭😭 and i can't believe it's canon?????? maki really does love kaito hhhhhhh im so glad that's like the least they could've done i think,,,,, i love them i'm so glad they were able to have some peace with his death,,,,,,,
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ayrennaranaaldmeri · 2 years
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anyway i apologise to henry cavill bc netflix has shown me that casting can always be worse lmao
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moondirti · 18 days
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big fan of the headcanon that simon riley is hard to get.
if we're being realistic, he's probably gotten very good at ignoring any inclination he might have towards a person in the years since his families' murder. it's easier to function as a soldier, as ghost, when he doesn't have to carry the burden of concern for someone so vulnerable. whether it's worrying about their safety while he's on deployment and can't afford to, or otherwise repressing his darker tendencies in an effort not to break them; the extra effort just isn't worth it to him. he won't seek you out, he won't take care of you, he won't reassure and coddle and communicate.
and he's not blind, nor is he passionless. he can appreciate a pretty face when one happens to pass by, but that's pretty much the extent of it. he's gotten used to the scorch of the lonely flame that flickers inside of him. if anything, he thinks putting it out and tending to the burns left in its wake would be a more traumatic ordeal than just letting it consume him.
so for him to accept love, it'd have to sneak up on him.
it happens with johnny first. he's the natural candidate, of course. his stubborn subordinate, clever with a fixated loyalty and quick wit – who better than him to get under ghost's skin?
granted, he isn't as guarded around him as he would've been with a civilian. not as cold upon introduction because he doesn't need to be. soap's a soldier, and this is work, and he's confident enough in the sergeant's resilience that it doesn't hinder his routine. he doesn't have to make accommodations, bend backwards or wake up in a cold sweat concerned about the man's wellbeing; not at first, anyway. and such are the floodgates that allow him to embrace johnny's company.
jokes crackled over comms. sitting next to each other on the airlifter. claps on the back after a successful operation. trust in every decision he chooses to take, regardless of whether or not he agrees. he thinks about johnny's eyes, johnny's smile, johnny's fierce little pout and the scar on his chin – but everything in moderation. the perfectly healthy amount. passing appreciation of his best mate's features and nothing more. it's the only meaningful connection he's had in years, and so what if he tugs his cock to the thought of it? people have cum to less.
until the bastard gets himself shot in the liver on solo reconnaissance in cyprus, and almost dies on medevac.
because when ghost gets that call from price – soap's hurt. it's looking grim. – he's wracked with a terror so acute he thinks his heart has given up on him. it's about the worst way to find out that he considers johnny as more than a friend. this sheer desperation, longing, regret. he ponders over it in the plane, tries to scrub the dread from his being. tries to pick apart what went wrong, what makes the sergeant so special.
by the time he reaches the hospital, he's already accepted defeat. all it takes is one look at johnny in his hospital bed – features peaceful, bandages wrapped around his bare chest, mohawk and facial hair grown out – to understand that this isn't going away anytime soon. he'll just have to make his peace with it. readjust to accommodate the protective flare already sparking in his chest.
it's a hassle, but manageable. despite his injury, johnny's still a competent man. they already know how to function in bouts of high stress. they're good– great friends. all this is really is an opportunity for simon to finally dig his cock within an ass he's been eyeing for months – or at least, that's the rationale he uses to come to terms.
and then you arrive. and things get a whole lot more complicated.
johnny's bird, apparently – gaz whispers to him outside of the inpatient room, watching through the window as you fret over the comatose man's pillows – didn' know he had one. m'surprised. you'd think a loudmouth like him would let the world know. she's cute too. really, ghost, did you have any idea?
he can't find it in him to respond, opting instead to march back into the room. you're fussing too much, causing a scene, no doubt disturbing the air with the nervous energy radiating off you in waves.
"he isn' supposed to be elevated like tha'," simon scolds, inflating a bit when you straighten up, eyes blowing wide with distress.
"oh... i just thought- he gets all hot when he lays on his back like this. i wanted him to be comfortable."
he knows that he's being cruel. you've done absolutely nothing to deserve the harsh glare he shoots your way, nor should you be expected to handle it. your eyes are red-rimmed, puffy like you've been crying on the way over. no doubt unused to crises like this one. he should be a help, not another source of stress.
besides. johnny's your boyfriend, not his. he has no reason to be so territorial. he'd only just discovered his feelings eight hours ago.
but–
"are you a doctor?"
"n-no."
"then it's best you keep your opinion to yourself."
he just can't help himself.
over the next week, ghost treats you with nothing more than cold disregard. he side-eyes you when you cry, wakes you up with rough pokes to your shoulder once visiting hours close, and takes every chance to one-up you when it comes down to who knows johnny better. you've got a leg up in the domestic department, but simon knows that nothing can surpass the borderline psychic bond they've built, and he makes sure to emphasise it whenever he can. and fuck, does it annoy him that you take it with grace every time, nodding receptively as though his input is meant to be more than just a searing critique of your shortcomings.
his behaviour doesn't go unnoticed, either. gaz is infinitely perplexed to see that the usually controlled lieutenant is so quick to lose his temper around you, despite your earnest efforts to not be a nuisance, and all price offers are long, disapproving looks that have him itch uncomfortably in his seat.
on the other hand, you must believe that he's just like that – foul mouthed, disparaging, mean – because you don't take it to heart. you remain pleasant, gentle, if not a little bit emotional. never once do you raise your voice at him, or fight back when he extends a particularly hurtful comment. on the occasion that his attitude grows to be too much for you, all you do is slip on a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and spread out your textbooks to spend the evening studying on the other side of the room. not keen on making amends, or discovering the source of simon's malcontent, but not affected by it either. you're peaceful. conflict averse. a good girl.
then, you come back one day with a tupperware of cookies.
"i made them myself last night. couldn't sleep, so..." you shrug, holding it out towards him. he assesses them, assesses you, roving over your chapped lips and hollow under-eyes. when did you get to look so defeated?
"no." he looks away, back to the unconscious man in front of him. in his periphery, your shoulders deflate, and he doesn't know what compels him to add the quiet "thanks."
"you've been here every hour of every day. i don't think i've seen you eat. um–" you dodge his gaze when it shoots to you. you've never tried to hold a conversation before now, have always accepted his gruff responses as an indication to leave him alone. he wonders why you can't catch the hint now. "just- let me know if you change your mind. they're shortbread."
and that's the end of it. at least until an hour later:
you're sitting on your armchair, directly across the bed from him, staring blankly at johnny when you speak up. "lieutenant?"
ghost doesn't remember introducing himself to you. he doesn't respond, but clenches his jaw to let you know he's listening.
"he's been comatose for a while." you warble. meaningless chatter. he sees it for what it is: talking so you don't cry. seeking reassurance in someone who knows how these things go.
"hm."
"is this how it usually-"
"sometimes."
"oh."
"he'll be alright." simon adds. more for himself than for you, but your lip wobbles like it's exactly what you needed to hear.
a few moments later, you speak up again.
"he holds you in such high regard, y'know."
he didn't. his heart aches as he follows the rise and fall of johnny's chest, finds solace in it, calming himself before he rips the hair from his skull. he can't speak, can't muster a rude dismissal, or any hatred for you. not anymore. this hospital has sucked the soul from him, as it seems to have done with you.
"he'll be happy to know you've stuck to his side." you smile, stirring from your seat and slinging your bag over your shoulder. "i have to go, got an exam tomorrow. i'll leave the cookies here in case you crave one."
you're halfway out when simon replies. "good luck."
and he's on his third cookie when johnny finally wakes. by then, he's already made up his mind. it's revelation he comes to much faster than the first.
if he can't have just johnny, he'll take you both.
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tlbodine · 2 years
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Pro Tip: The Way You End a Sentence Matters
Here is a quick and dirty writing tip that will strengthen your writing.
In English, the word at the end of a sentence carries more weight or emphasis than the rest of the sentence. You can use that to your advantage in modifying tone.
Consider:
In the end, what you said didn't matter.
It didn't matter what you said in the end.
In the end, it didn't matter what you said.
Do you pick up the subtle differences in meaning between these three sentences?
The first one feels a little angry, doesn't it? And the third one feels a little softer? There's a gulf of meaning between "what you said didn't matter" (it's not important!) and "it didn't matter what you said" (the end result would've never changed).
Let's try it again:
When her mother died, she couldn't even cry.
She couldn't even cry when her mother died.
That first example seems to kind of side with her, right? Whereas the second example seems to hold a little bit of judgment or accusation? The first phrase kind of seems to suggest that she was so sad she couldn't cry, whereas the second kind of seems to suggest that she's not sad and that's the problem.
The effect is super subtle and very hard to put into words, but you'll feel it when you're reading something. Changing up the order of your sentences to shift the focus can have a huge effect on tone even when the exact same words are used.
In linguistics, this is referred to as "end focus," and it's a nightmare for ESL students because it's so subtle and hard to explain. But a lot goes into it, and it's a tool worth keeping in your pocket if you're a creative writer or someone otherwise trying to create a specific effect with your words :)
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deanwinchestergf · 6 months
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and why would an angel rescue me from hell? good things do happen dean. not in my experience. i'm not here to perch on your shoulder. i was getting too close to the humans in my charge. you. to everything there is a season. you made an exception for me. you're different. for what's worth, i would give anything not to have you do this. i learned my lesson while i was away, dean. i serve heaven, i don't serve men and i certainly don't serve you. but you guys aren't supposed to be there, you're not in this story. yeah, well, we're making it up as we go. i'm hunted, i rebelled and i did it all, all of it, for you. so what i'm thelma and you're louise and we're just gonna hold hands and sail off this cliff together? i need your help because you're the only one who'll help me. that's a pretty nice timing, cas. we had an appointment. what happened to you cas? you used to be human, or at least like one. but cas, you'll call right? if you get into real trouble? this is cas, guys. he has gone to the mat cut and bleeding for us so many freaking times, don't we owe him the benefit of the doubt at least? it sounds so simple when you say it like that, where were you when i needed to hear it? i was there, where were you? i'm doing this for you, dean. i'm doing this because of you. but we were family once, i would've died for you, i almost did a few times. i've lost lisa, i've lost ben and now i've lost sam. don't make me lose you too. cas, you child, why didn't you listen to me. you used to fight together, bestest of friends, actually. if you remember, then you know you did the best you could at the time. the very touch of you corrupts. when castiel first laid a hand on you in hell he was lost. i'd rather have you, cursed or not. well, i'll go with you. i prayed to you cas, every night. cas, we're getting out of here, we're going home. i mean you kept saying you didn't think it would work, did you not trust me? cas, it's me. we need you, i need you. i won't hurt dean. cause you didn't trust me? you didn't trust me. please, man, i need you here. nobody wants him here more than i do. you gave us an order, castiel, and we gave you our trust. don't lose it over one man. you really believe we three will be enough? we always have been. his true weakness is revealed. you draped yourself with the flag of heaven but ultimately, it was all about saving one human. i'm glad you're here, man. how are you, dean? and then you'll kill the angel, castiel. now that one, that i suspect would hurt something awful. and when you turn, everyone you know, everyone you love, they could be long dead. everyone except me. i'm not gonna send lucifer into battle inside cas, what if he doesn't make it? it's not an it, sam. it's cas. but you're always there, you know? i could go with you. you mean too much to me, to everything. i'm gonna cure you of your human weakness, same way i cured my own. it's a gift, you keep those. you mean we? yes, dumbass, we. we lost everything and now you're gonna bring him back. we got cas back, that's a pretty damn big win. just don't get dead again. it's good to hear your voice. so this is goodbye? but i swear if he did something to her, if she's- then you're dead to me. either get on board or walk away. i don't know what's god and what isn't, and it's driving me crazy. dean, you asked what about all of this is real. we are. you used trust me, give me the benefit of the doubt, now you can barely look at me. i think it's time for me to move on. you didn't deserve that. since when do we get what we deserve? maybe if you didn't just up and leave us. i left but you didn't stop me. i should've stopped you. you're my best friend but i just let you go. and i forgive you, of course i forgive you. i'm sorry it took me so long, i'm sorry it took me til now to say it. you did it cas. okay, cas, i need to say something. you don't have to say it, i heard your prayer. well, here's to being right. you know what every other version of you did after gripping him tight and raising him from perdition? they did what they were told, but not you.
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valyrfia · 5 months
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I’ve been thinking about it, and I now firmly believe that Charles signed a pre-contract with Red Bull in the week before COTA. Initially, he did it with the intent of putting pressure on Ferrari but then over the course of the triple header he slowly started to realise that maybe honouring that pre-contract MIGHT be his best chance at a WDC. This is heavily reflected in the socials and PR of Red Bull, Ferrari, and Charles himself and ties together all the Lestappen interactions of the past couple of months from Max’s answers at press conferences to the infamous padel date. Buckle up, because it’s going to be a ride.
So I believe to pinpoint the start of the current PR wave/movement that we've coined as Lestappen Gate 2023 we have to look all the way back to Monza. Around Monza, there were numerous rumours that a huge Charles contract renewal was imminent and it was going to be announced, etc. etc. Charles did put these rumours to bed by saying if there were a contract like the one that had been rumoured, he would've signed it immediately. Now, I believe that with Charles confirmed to be unsigned (at around the same time that the George/Lewis and Oscar renewals would've been happening), Red Bull Racing approached Charles to reopen talks.
But I think Charles stalls them, isn't open to talks, until Singapore where Carlos Sainz wins. This throws Ferrari into complete disarray as Fred suddenly can't open talks with Charles as it would then be clear that he will not be re-signing Carlos Sainz. I think it then becomes obvious to Charles and his team that in order for the contract talks to begin they need pressure to negate Santander and the Sainz family breathing down Ferrari's throat. So Charles actively enters talks with Red Bull with the intent of putting that pressure on Ferrari. Also worth noting, Singapore also marked Charles as something special, a generational talent who is also willing to be an exception n2 driver when the team requires it of him, especially when his teammate starts on pole. I think this makes Red Bull even more eager to begin talks with Charles. Interestingly, this is where we get the first Red Bull Lestappen post of this current era, the Lecstappen alert.
This brings us through Suzuka to Qatar, Max winning his 3rd WDC, Charles congratulating him and then effuse about Max and Red Bull in interviews. Seeing the level of success that Max has had is what pushes Charles to decide that he is going to sign a pre-contract with Red Bull for a seat in 2025 because either way, he wins. He either manages to put pressure on Ferrari to get a contract with all the clauses he wants (external brand deals, his own branding, car development to suit him, etc.) OR he gets the MOST talked about seat in F1.
Now this is a key point. I believe the padel date was an excuse to get Max and Charles in the same room. Specifically, for them to have a frank and honest chat about whether they could work as teammates and two n1 drivers on the same team. This is probably the first serious heart to heart that these two have had, which then explains their attitude and closeness in the triple header and them being more ready to be vulnerable and honest with and about each other. Then, in the week before COTA, satisfied that he could be teammates with Max if push came to shove, Charles Leclerc signs a pre-contract with RBR for 2025.
(It's also worth noticing that in the week before COTA, the Lando Norris to RBR rumours and talk noticeably died down, despite Oscar winning the sprint in Qatar).
Now this brings us to COTA, where Charles instantly starts to make PR moves to build a brand for himself. His first big move is signing with WME, a talent agency, and something that Ferrari drivers typically aren't allowed to do. The WME signing solidifies in my mind that a pre-contract exists, because if there is one thing Charles wouldn't do, it's jeopardise his chances of racing in F1. If there's a chance that Ferrari would drop him for this, he just wouldn't do it. However, if he has a guaranteed seat in 2025 no matter the outcome, he would totally do it. It must be said, I believe that Charles is using the pre-contract fully as leverage against Ferrari at this point UNTIL the strategy fuck up. After the strategy fuck up, Charles is noticeably angry and outspoken about it, and Fred starts to freak out a little bit. RBR in the mean time, are starting to try and change the Lestappen narrative from rivals to a duo, with Charles starting to feature heavily on RBR socials.
Moving on to Mexico, Charles does well, considering. But what's important about Mexico is that this is the first time that Charles has truly been treated like a villain by the fans at the track. This is key, not only because of RBR's reaction to it (which I will explore), but also because this is Charles's first taste of what a move to RBR could be like, of what it would feel like were he to become the antihero rather than the golden boy of F1. However, the real clincher is that rather than RBR playing into the narrative of Charles the villain, even despite him literally being involved in the DNF of their own driver (Checo) at his home race, they instead make sure to capture all angles of Charles and Max interacting and one of their own pays special attention to Charles on the podium. In a way, this is the weekend that shows Charles that even though Red Bull and Ferrari are completely different, Red Bull can still be as much of a family to him as Ferrari has been if he wants them to be. Moreso, in fact, considering Ferrari didn't even bother showing up to Charles's P3 podium.
So entering the weekend in Brazil, Charles is pictured wearing his own clothing line that it was rumoured Ferrari forced him to discontinue and Fred Vasseur is starting to get shit scared and starting to talk to anyone from media who will listen about how talented Charles is. Charles does put it on the front row, but there's no real Forza Ferrari about it, and Charles has stopped wearing Ferrari merch in the paddock. A Red Bull employee (Max's PT Brad) is the first person to congratulate Charles on the front row.
Then, the DNS happens. A completely avoidable thing that happened due to Ferrari incompetency, and all hell breaks loose. Charles leaves the paddock before he can finish his Ferrari PR duties like a post-race video, and makes it very clear that he is FURIOUS in all his interviews. Now, laughably, at this point is when Ferrari-Charles contract negations began, or at least, that's what was leaked to the media. In my mind, Charles communicated very clearly to Fred at this point that his pre-contract with Red Bull is a very real threat, and Charles himself is beginning to seriously consider honouring it, and if Ferraro don't get together, they WILL lose their Il Predestinato to Red Bull. At this moment, Fred Vasseur is absolutely terrified. The world is very obviously on Charles's side and sympathetic after the DNS, while being at best apathetic and at worst hostile toward the Scuderia. Meanwhile, Red Bull continue with their Lestappen antics across all social media channel, again publicising the idea that Max and Charles are close and may have once been rivals but are buddies now, like in their tiktok of Max doing the "just an inchident" trend.
Now I haven't mentioned the onboards yet, which were spotted by some eagle eyes fans during the Mexico and Brazil GP weekends, in which Charles's onboard was displayed very clearly alongside their actual drivers, Max and Checo. But the existence of the onboards on the Red Bull pitwall make perfect sense if Charles did sign a pre-contract. Red Bull are gathering data to sway Charles further, almsot a "yeah so here's exactly where Ferrari fucked your race, and here's is what we would've done differently."
The break in the triple header, Charles is noticeably refraining from Forza Ferrari-ing. Rather, he calls the paps on himself on more than one occasion and make sure he is seen with several high profile celebs, strengthening his public image and building his own narrative. Meanwhile, Ferrari is in full damage control mode, taking responsibility for the DNS, acknowledging Charles in a way they haven't fully done since Singapore. There are more leaks of contract negotiations, but Charles does not engage with them. Meanwhile, Red Bull are keeping up their Lestappen propaganda. Charles is making it clear to all parties that this pre-contract that he initially intended to just be a bargaining chip has suddenly become a serious threat to Ferrari.
Finally, this brings us to last weekend, Vegas. Charles, again, refuses to Forza Ferrari. Ferrari PR have put Charles and Red Bull content on absolute LOCKDOWN with not a HINT of Lestappen anywhere, and Max is making comments about the choice of team being important in winning even for generational talents while Charles fidgets and looks away. Fred praises Charles to hell and back again, implying that Charles will obviously be prioritised over Carlos by diminishing Singapore, but in the post-race, Charles still gives nothing. Just a thinly veiled comment about how good it feels to be fighting at the front again. Meanwhile, Red Bull amp up the Charles content even more, even fully posting a picture just of Charles's car. There are also not one, but two questions about Max and Charles's karting past. In discussion with my academic colleagues (@tsarinablogs, @thearchercore, @gaslightgirlsummer (further thanks for all three of them, for entertaining a much rougher draft of this essay a few days ago)), we've talked about the possibility that these questions might have themselves been planted in the media rooms, in order to further cement the idea and control the narrative of Charles and Max, childhood rivals turned dynamic duo. The sort of narrative one might find intriguing around teammates.
So this concludes my essay. I am almost sure that Charles has a pre-contract with Red Bull, which is why he is suddenly so outspoken about the problems and failings of Ferrari. Although this pre-contract originally began as a bargaining chip, I believe that Charles is seriously considering honouring it. Ferrari are desperate, and Red Bull have the upper hand and are starting to pave the way for a media shift in how Charles and Max as a pairing are perceived.
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kitsu-katsu · 7 months
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What some people miss when talking about the Fionna and Cake finale is the fact that if Simon's and Betty's arc didn't end how it ended, they had no "happier" option that would be coherent with the series at large
They are the doomed pairing at the center of it all, them realizing just how doomed they were, recognizing it and having their goodbyes was as good as they'd have it, because any other course of action either still dooms them or it dooms the whole world, and that's what all the parallel universes showed
If Simon and Betty never got to the crown, maybe if Simon had gone on with Betty to see the petroglyphs and their sacrifices were more evened out from the beginning, still not too long later the mushroom war would still have erupted, the bombs dropped and as normal humans it's almost certain they'd have died. Marceline would grow up without Simon, and now we're in the universe of the star
If Simon stayed in a half-transformed state, where he's neither fully Ice King nor fully Simon, we get the Winter King and someone has to be the recipient of the "crown madness" as was PB in that universe (plus, more importantly to not feel "insane" he didn't transfer the magic or the Gunther that comes with the crown, he mostly just transferred his sadness about Betty which manifested in him stealing princesses to be his brides. Thus the Winter King doesn't even remember her)
If he'd become Ice King again, he'd turn back to living not as himself, lost within the crown and depressed deep down because of it. Plus the messaging of succumbing back to an addiction he couldn't get out of because he was absolutely self destructive since without Betty his life didn't matter to him
If he'd put on the crown and stopped the bomb, Betty probably would've continued living, forever missing his memory just as he forever missed her in the main timeline. Plus eventually we get to farmworld reality
Truly the only alternative course of action that maybe could've worked somehow in terms of keeping them both alive and together for more than like 2 years would be if Betty didn't leave through the Hambo portal and maybe stayed to find Marcy along with Simon, making him less self-destructive and careless about his transformation and what it brings at the same since she'd be there too. But then there'd come a point where unassisted with magic, Betty would die anyway, and Simon would go down the Ice King path again
They're forever doomed
The events will happen, happening, happened, so on and so forth
And at least in their doom they were able to recognize it, have a moment of sincerity, Simon apologized for not seeing her sacrifices, and they both know that things could've been different, maybe better, maybe not, but regardless all their actions were taken and they have to live with them. So all in all, it's great that at last they recognize it as an experience they wouldn't trade for anything anyway, and life goes on. For Simon, with Betty's support through Golb he was able to go back and see worth in jeeping on living and going on new adventures instead of remaining stagnant for her who's never going to be back as he knew her. And Betty got to be a god, she got omnipotence, she got to protect Simon from the last obstacle to his safety: himself. And in the end it seems to imply she might've separated from Golb and become a catalyst comet herself, to be reborn
It's that signature bitter sweetness and acceptance that flawed people live flawed lives with shitty and great parts alike that's so signature adventure time. And it all will happen, happening happened and will happen again and again
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rhys-writes-some-shit · 3 months
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"Sing to Me?"
Alastor x Reader (QP)
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Yawning, you trudged out of the bathroom, drying your hair loosely with a towel. You were warm from your shower and the filling meal you'd had a little while earlier. Alastor was probably the best chef you knew, a fact you were extremely proud of. Even if your preferred form of protein was banned from the hotel premises, Alastor was always able to make do with what he had.
Despite it being late at night, you grabbed your laptop (a very rare, not VoxTech one) to work on some paperwork. You'd promised your boss to get these spreadsheets done, and you weren't one to shirk on your promises. Yawning again, you tuned your old-fashioned radio before settling down with your laptop. The radio had been a gift from Alastor. Many late nights had been spent listening to his broadcasts. They'd always been a comfort, even before you'd signed a contract with him.
Some light jazz filtered through the static, one of your favorite songs. Alastor knew you were listening. Smiling lightly, you started typing away.
The music was occasionally interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream or a sharp whimper. Your smile never left, humming along while Alastor had his fun. Part of you was vaguely aware that the radio show was now being broadcast all throughout Hell, that you didn't even need the radio, but you liked it, so it stayed on.
The spreadsheets were simple enough. With the radio in the background, you were able to focus just enough that the job came naturally. In the back of your mind, you started going over the next day’s schedule.
You'd ended up zoning out while you typed, not even noticing how the radio switched to static and then turned off by itself.
A single knock preceded Alastor's entrance, enough to break you from your thoughts. You were quick to notice the faint blood splatter on the sole of Alastor’s shoes, the only evidence of his previous activities.
“My dear, you know how I abhor those vile machines,” Alastor reprimanded, walking and starting to subconsciously organize your room. A chair was pushed in, a painting adjusted so it was even, the bottom drawer of your dresser lightly closed.
“Yeah, yeah.” You grinned to yourself. “I need it to do my job, Al. Besides, do you have any idea how hard it is to find a piece of electronic equipment that's not created by VoxTech?”
“All the more reason to get rid of it.” Alastor walked over to the window and stared out at it. He was a little lost in thought himself, it would seem.
Typing a line, you said, “I liked your broadcast.”
“I'm glad.”
He was quiet. Something was wrong. Your grin died down, pushing your laptop to the side. Alastor’s smile was still there, but dimmer. Sadder.
“Al? You okay?”
“Nothing to concern yourself with, dearest,” Alastor replied, a slight edge in his voice.
You wanted to push. To get him to talk to you. But you knew it wouldn't be worth it. If anything, he'd just get upset or shut down more.
“You know, sometimes I wonder what would've happened if we'd met while we were alive,” You said nonchalantly. “I mean, obviously that would've been impossible in the first place, considering I wasn't even born when you died, but I just wonder about it.”
“What a ridiculous thing to wonder about!” Alastor laughed a little. “As you said, it would have been impossible. And why think about being alive when we have all of death to enjoy?” His tone lightened a bit. “There is so much entertainment to be had! Life was quite dull, comparably.”
You wondered for a moment, trying to figure out where to lead the conversation. “Where did you live, when you were alive? You already know where I lived when I was alive, it's only fair I know where you lived.”
Alastor’s grin softened a bit, still sad, but with a hint of happiness in there. Nostalgia, if you had to guess. “New Orleans, Louisiana. I lived there with my mother. I had a delightful job as a radio host.”
“You're still a radio host,” you teased playfully. “What was it like, back then?”
“Ah, it was… entertaining.” He didn't say anything more, lost in thought as he leaned on his cane. You were vaguely aware that you were the only person who ever saw him like this. Alastor wore his smile like armor, guarding himself with a nonchalant facade, but very rarely, behind closed doors, the guard would fall, just for a little while.
Just as you were about to open your mouth to ask another question, Alastor spoke, “You seem quite tired, my dear. Maybe it is time we part ways for the evening.”
Pressing your lips together, you knew he was right. You really should be getting to bed, but you were worried about Alastor. You hadn't seen him like this before, so it was impossible to guess what he'd do once he was alone.
“You really should learn to hide your emotions better.” Alastor turned suddenly, chucking to himself. “There is nothing to worry about, darling. I am perfectly fine.”
“Yeah, you say that, but for some reason I don't believe you.” Stifling a yawn, you gave Alastor a look.
“Now, now, don't be like that.” Alastor came and sat on the edge of the bed, using his magic to set the laptop on top of the dresser. “What can I do to convince you to sleep?”
Leaning back, you thought for a moment. When the idea hit you, your face flushed with embarrassment for a moment, but you swallowed the anxiety. He did ask, after all.
“Sing to me?”
Alastor laughed, causing you to glare. “Again with the ridiculous ideas!” When your face fell subconsciously, Alastor hesitated.
When he didn't say anything, you accepted the fact that it was a ridiculous request. Assuming he'd leave the room on his own accord, you used your magic to turn out the lights as you slid under the covers of your bed. You never did get all those spreadsheets done like you'd wanted.
“Parlez-moi d’amour.”
Alastor’s slightly-static-filled voice was quiet. His eyes faintly glowed in the dark and you watched him with wide eyes.
“Redites-moi des choses tendres.”
Smiling softly, you sank into the bed, closing your eyes and allowing Alastor’s comforting voice to wash over you.
“Votre beau discours /
“Mon cœur n'est pas las de l'entendre /
“Pourvu que toujours /
“Vous répétiez ces mots suprêmes /
“Je vous aime.”
((The song))
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trashcora · 8 months
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"August 29, 2023. If you find this, please do not come into the bedroom. We left the windows open so that the house wouldn't smell, but it will probably be a sight. I'm guessing you found this, Joel, because anyone else would've been electrocuted or blown up by one of my traps hehehehe. Take anything you need. The bunker code is the same as the gate code, but in reverse. Anyway, I never liked you. But still, it's like we're friends. Almost. And I respect you. So, I'm gonna tell you something because you're probably the only person who will understand: I used to hate the world, and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong, because there was one person worth saving. That's what I did. I saved him, then I protected him. That's why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do, and god help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep Tess safe."
THE LAST OF US (2023) — 1.03 “Long, Long Time”
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entitled-fangirl · 2 months
Text
Two idiots in love. (P3)
Joel Miller x anemic!reader
Summary: the trio find themselves at the home of Bill and Frank, not knowing what became of them.
Warnings: death, cursing, Joel being Joel, Ellie being Ellie, Bill and Frank's story😭
Masterlist
Part 1, Part 4
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The three neared Bill and Frank's home, the electric fence only a few feet in front of them.
"Stay here."
Joel stepped forward, punching the code into the lock and opening the fence for the girls to step through.
Joel could tell something was off, but Y/N seemed to be in her own little world, her medication finally helping her for once.
"You know, El? I think you'll really like Frank. Actually, I take all of that back… Bill is going to be your favorite."
Ellie scoffs, "What makes you say that?"
Y/N hums, "Cause you like Joel. And they're very much alike."
Joel snorts under his breath at that, but says nothing.
When they neared the house, Y/N stopped as if something was forcing her to the ground.
Joel placed a hand on her lower back, "Sweetheart?"
He followed her gaze, which was locked on the dead potted plant by their doorstep.
He pulled at her reluctant body and moved towards the door. His eyebrows furrowed when he discovered the door was left entirely unlocked.
The house was dead silent.
They all stood in the entryway, Joel's hand holding Y/N's wrist gently. He thought of it as a comfort for her, but deep down he knew it was comfort him too.
Ellie's eyes were wide, "What the fuck?"
Joel stared at the staircase, "Bill?"
Nothing.
"Frank?"
Joel turned to Ellie was a serious gaze and a soft voice, "You stay there. You hear anything, you see anything… yell."
"What if they're gone?"
Joel stopped, his grip on Y/N loosens as he turns back to Ellie was a desperate look before turning back and taking Y/N with him.
The two searched the house with their hearts in their stomachs before they moved back towards the entryway.
Ellie sat in the open room next to it at their dining room table. A note was in her hands.
"It… it's from Bill. Came with this."
She pushed a car key across the table towards them.
Joel took off his backpack. He carefully picked the key up. "So, they're dead?"
Ellie nodded with a soft "Uh-huh."
Y/N let out a soft cry, coving her hands over his mouth to muffle it.
Joel turned to her, his jaw clenched, as he pulled her to him silently. She grabbed the collar of his jacket and cried into his chest.
Ellie held out the note, "You wanna…?"
His hands wrapped around Y/N, one around her waist and the other into her hair. "Go ahead. You do it."
Ellie let out a soft sigh began to read.
August 29, 2023, If you find this, please do not come into the bedroom. We left a window open so the house wouldn't smell, but it will probably be a sight.
Y/N turned her head slightly against Joel's shoulder to watch Ellie as she read. He continued to gently play with her hair.
I'm guessing you found this, Joel because anyone else would've been electrocuted or blown up by one of my traps. Hehehehehehehe. Take anything you need. The bunker code is the same as the gate code but in reverse.  Anyway, I never liked you, but still, it's like we're friends, almost. And I respect you. So, I'm gonna tell you something because you're probably the only person who will understand.
Joel felt a slight wet feeling on his chest and looked down. The tears were silently falling from his girl's face. His hand ran up from her waist to her cheek, his thumb lightly grazing over it, wiping the tears as they came.
I used to hate the world and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong, because there was one person worth saving.  That's what I did. I saved him. Then I protected him. That's why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do, and God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way.  I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep- 
Ellie stopped, looking back up at them. 
Joel moved forward, his hands leaving Y/N as he grabbed the paper from Ellie's hand. 
He looked at it.
Tess.
…keep Tess and Y/N safe.
When Y/N moved to look over his shoulder at it, he stood tall. "Stay here."
He stormed out of the house. 
Ellie stood up, looking to the woman curiously.
"Leave him, Ellie. He needs time."
When he came back in, the two were still at the table, Y/N now sitting in one of the chairs. They both look up at him in question.
But he only looked at Ellie.
"Show me your arm."
She stepped towards him, pulling up her sleeve and showing him her arm.
He sighed, "I just finished makin' a truck battery. It's charging right now."
"..okay?"
"And I have a brother out in Wyoming. He's in some kinda trouble, and I'm heading out there to find him. He used to be a firefly…"
With this, Y/N stood up slowly, joining the two.
"…and my guess is he knows where some of them are out there. Maybe they can get you to wherever this lab is."
Ellie sighed, "Alright. Listen. About Tess…"
Joel held up his hand, not wanting to hear it, and sure as hell not wanting Y/N to hear it.
"If I'm takin' you with me, there's some rule you gotta follow. Rule 1: You don't bring up Tess. Ever."
Y/N noticed the tone in his voice. It was hurt and desperate.
"Matter of fact," he said, "we can just keep our histories to ourselves. Rule 2: you don't tell anyone about your…condition. They see that bite mark, they won't think it through. They'll just shoot you. Rule 3: you do what I say when I say it. We clear?"
There was no way Ellie could say no to the persistent glare he gave her, "Yes."
"Repeat it."
Y/N stepped forward, "Joel.."
He held a hand in front of her, stopping her, "Quiet, sweet girl."
She stopped.
Ellie thought for a moment, the silence deafening, "What you say goes."
Joel sighed, "…okay."
They spent the next few days in the house, gathering supplies. 
Y/N took it upon herself to gather their clothes and toiletries.
Joel was more focused on weapons and fixing the truck.
They were a good team.
She was sat in the living room, after her shower. Her hair was damp as she sorted through a few of the clothing boxes for last minutes pieces.
Ellie's voice brought her from her thoughts, "Well, don't you look pretty."
Y/N looked over her shoulder to see Joel all washed up. His hair was combed back, one of Bill's clean flannels on him. (^^ the gif at the top^^)
She smiled.
He looked at Ellie, "Shut up."
He then held his hand out, "C'mon, sweet girl. We have plenty."
Y/N stood, taking his hand.
Ellie's hand grabbed the passenger side door handle and Joel immediately grunted. "Nah-uh. Get in the back."
A smile ghosted her face and she got in the back.
Y/N smiled too, "I'll let you have it in a few hours. How about that?"
Joel grunted again, "No. She's a kid."
The girls rolled their eyes and continued like nothing happened.
Joel started the truck, relieved when it started. 
He felt Y/N's gaze on him.
When he looked at her, he found that she really was looking at him.
She reached up, her finger lightly grazing over the large cut on his cheek.
He mumbles, "Doesn't hurt anymore."
She nods, retracting her hand.
He reaches out, grabbing it.
He twists it, staring at the bruise from days ago on her forearm.
She mumbles in the same way, "doesn't hurt anymore."
He nods, the ghost of a smile making its way to his face. "Good."
They pulled away from all that was left of Bill and Frank as Linda Ronstadt played from the mixtape.
...............................................
Part 4
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ash5monster01 · 6 months
Text
Learning to Love
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Pairing: Rafe Cameron x FemReader!PlusSize
Warnings: 18+, langauge, angst, fluff, mentions of bullying, body image issues, fat shaming, fake relationship, eventual smut, minor enemies to lovers trope.
Summary: It's not uncommon for you to be shamed for your size, it is however uncommon to be told that no one would ever date you because of it. Rafe on the other hand is used to being called a jerk, that is until he is accused of seeing people for only what's on the surface. It's purely coicidental you two meet right after these accusations are thrown your way. So even though you two don't know each other, and probably never would've looked the others way before this, now you're both going to prove a point. It's simple really, prove others wrong and don't fall in love. Easier said than done.
word count: 3k
→ Part 1
Masterlist
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You're used to crude comments, truly. Living in the Outer Banks has proven nothing other than the fact that kooks will always be cruel, even if it's towards other kooks. As long as you're in a bathing suit, something is going to be said. Which is proven true as you lie on the beach, book in hand, and sunglasses hung low on your nose. It's your only day off and you were going to enjoy it. Soak up the sun as much as you can because summer would fade away before you knew it. You had only chosen the two piece bathing suit to get more of a tan, maybe a little extra sun. It's only twenty pages into your book you hear two boys snickering not far from your own set up.
"Look a beached whale, should we call the authorities?" your ears burn red only slightly, after all you were used to it. Honestly you could care less anymore.
"God, she has to know that's gross" the other responds after his bellowing laughs have calmed down. They truly can't be that stupid they don't realize how loud they're talking right?
"No decent looking, hell self respecting man would ever date a girl like that" this punches the air out of your lungs. You knew your body type wasn’t considered attractive. This was common knowledge, but to hear someone say you couldn’t possibly ever date an attractive man is something else entirely.
“I know I wouldn’t” the boys laugh again, hands clapping together as they stare you down like you were the most disgusting thing on this beach.
You’re not upset about what they were saying. You survived highschool after all. Your school had already been divided by kooks and pogues, add in the big girl and that’s a recipe for disaster. You’ve heard the most vile and mean things a person could say. Somehow you came out of it with still a little self respect, hell even some confidence, because if you were anything at all it was strong. You had dated here and there, never had anything stick though. Maybe that’s why this comment resonated so hard with you. No matter how decent a person you meet maybe you’re bound to end up ugly and alone because an attractive man belongs with an attractive girl.
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Rafe has had to attend hundreds of useless business meetings since his Dad died. He had wanted this. When he was nineteen and trying to prove to his Dad that he was worth it, but now he was gone. He had no one to impress anymore and at twenty three he carried the burden of being the CEO of an entire company with his last name on it. So that’s how he finds himself inside of dark clubs at noon, sharing a scotch with guys willing to play dirty to get what they want. He often wonders why he had wanted this life so badly. Everything he had believed in for so long was now gone. His Dad, the treasure, and now even kooks and pogues. Ever since his sister had found that treasue social classes had been practically eliminated or at least weren't acknowledged like they were before. All of this had now left Rafe without a sense of self and he desperatley needed something to change.
"Man, why can't they hire pretty waitresses to look at anymore?" Levi, a coworker slurred as he watched their waitress walk away. Rafe noticed her shoulders stiffen because she had heard what he had said. He hated he felt guilty over it.
"It's a bar, not a strip club" Matt, another coworker teased and Rafe rolled his eyes. Four years ago these guys could've been his best friends, and he would've teased the waitress right along with them. Now things were different, he was different.
"I happen to think she's cute" Rafe told them before finishing the last sip of his scotch. He knew when he got back to the office people would give disapproving looks but he didn't know what to do with himself anymore. It was like he was just floating and letting the tide drag him along wherever it wanted to.
"Yeah right" Matt snorted out a laugh and Rafe gave him a confused look as Levi started to laugh along with him.
"Seriously Rafe, you’re way out of her league" Levi told him, his shoulder bumping with his own.
"No I'm not and there is no such thing as leagues" Rafe told them with a pointed look but the boys just continued to laugh anyway.
"Yes there is and the only one's in Rafe Cameron's league are tall hot blondes with legs for miles and tan skin smooth enough slide on" Matt said and Rafe felt his stomach clench as they spoke. Had he unintentionaly maintained a type, only taken someone for their looks? Flashes of ex girlfriends went through his mind and he had realized after all this time he had only taken women for surface things.
“That can’t be true” Rafe shook his head and the boys just chuckled.
“Admit dude, you’re an asshole and you like pretty little things. Nothing wrong with that” Levi said as he slapped his back, taking another sip of his own scotch. Rafe however realized there was everything wrong with that. Yeah he’s been a jerk his whole life but had he ever actually dated a girl he liked? Someone with substance?
“Hell would freeze over the day Rafe Cameron dated someone other than a supermodel” Matt pointed with the scotch in his hand and Rafe just shook his head, eyes scanning over the small crowd that littered the bar. For the first time he was seeing people he never would’ve noticed before.
He wondered if this was a side effect of his life before. Privileged kook, popularity, a need to impress everyone around him. Had women become a part of all of that too? A side effect of a need to please, to be the best. Had he been wasting years of actually meeting someone with a personality due to his natural self destructive ways? God he hoped not. Then again he couldn’t recall ever really liking the girls he dated, he usually just tuned them out and used them when he needed to make an appearance with a date. He had never actually dated someone for fun. Worst of all he hated that everyone knew this of him. That he dated for appearance instead of happiness. He wanted to change that.
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You could only take so much of the harassment coming from the two boys on the beach, so after three hours you declared you’d had enough sun and started to pack your things. When the cover up slipped over your head you didn’t miss the applause coming from them. Rolling your eyes you grabbed your bag and started the hike up the beach. You needed a drink.
Rafe hadn’t been able to shake the thoughts over the girls he dated. After a very long recollection of every girl he had ever brought around he couldn’t think of one he actually enjoyed spending time with. With this in mind he dismissed Matt and Levi back to the office, claiming he’d find a way back on his own. He needed more time to think about this, and a stiff drink to go along with it. So that’s how he found himself now sitting directly at the bar and not inside the dark booth. The whiskey in his hand suggested he wasn’t making it back to the office anytime soon.
Normally he wouldn’t remove his focus from the drink in his hands but when a bag is slapped on the counter top beside him he finds himself lifting his head. The girl claiming the seat beside him is dressed in stark contrast to his own attire. He’s still in his work suit, tie loosened around his neck, but the girl beside him has clearly just come from the beach. Her hair is wild and wrapped in a bun a top her head. A red bikini strap peaks out the collar of the white coverup. Her breasts had left wet spots slightly see through to the red fabric of her top, like she had left the beach in a rush.
“Hit me with the usual Randy” she calls to the bar keep and Rafe can’t tear his eyes away from her. She’s bigger, sure, but the dip of her hips and small pouted lips have Rafe every bit of intrigued. He can’t help the thought of her being a girl he might’ve never noticed before escape him. He wanted to notice her now.
“Rough day?” Randy smirks at her when he’s back, a tall glass with a dark liquid set in front of her. She takes a sip before responding.
“Every day is a rough day” she mutters and Randy just chuckles before walking off to serve other customers. It’s only when your eyes lock with his own Rafe realizes he has been staring this entire time. “Let me guess, you got something to say just like everyone else today”
“I, what?” Rafe doesn’t expect the coldness from you and how strong willed you are with it too. You aren’t scared of him, he isn’t used to that.
“Listen I’ve had my fill of assholes today so if you don’t have anything nice to say, keep it to yourself” you told him before turning back forward and taking a large gulp from the drink in your hand.
“Got someone bothering you?” Rafe asked finding his cool. He finally got himself to tear his eyes away from you, eyes scanning over the liquor bottles behind the bar. You turn to look at him, eyes drawn together in confusion.
“Not one specific person, everyone for some reason thinks they have the right to comment on my appearance” your words get him to turn back at you. Normally men don’t make you nervous but when you watch him eye you up and down you can’t help the way your heart accelerates.
“I happen to think you look just fine” the scoff that falls from your lips shocks him.
“I’m not looking for your pity, I happened to over hear today that no decent self respecting man would date me so let’s not lie to each other” you tell him and Rafe now feels the air knocked from his lungs. He can’t believe anyone would say that to you. Let alone to your face.
“If it makes you feel better I was told today that I only date woman for surface things” now you were the one drawing your eyebrows together in confusion, looking to the mystery of a man beside you.
“Surface things?” you question the stranger and he chuckles, his rings clinking on his whiskey glass.
“Appearances, apparently I’ve never looked deeper” this has you chuckling right along with him, lifting your own drink to your lips.
“Look at us then, two sides of the same coin. Makes you wonder if there really is anyone out there actually happy with who they ended up with” you say mostly to yourself, knowing this perfect stranger on a normal day would never look your way but you also would never find yourself thinking you had a chance with him.
“I think there is, at least the people who weren’t chewed up and spit out by the world” the optimism is what shocks you the most when he speaks. A hope for something better down in there.
“I wish I was one of those people” you find yourself saying and the boy turns to look at you again, eyes scanning over each of your features.
“Maybe we should prove them wrong” now you’re laughing, looking bewildered towards the boy beside you.
“And how do you suppose we do that?” you ask and he smirks, clearly having some sort of plan.
“We date. I prove to my coworkers that I date someone for more than just their looks and you prove to all those assholes that you can date a guy as good looking as me” he gestures to himself, as if his body is some of God’s best work. You scoff at his clear cheekiness but actually find yourself considering.
“I don’t even know your name” you laugh, trying to remind yourself that this ideal is completely absurd.
“Rafe Cameron, nice to meet you” his hand reaches across the bar, you take notice of how long his fingers are. With the shake of your head you find yourself putting your hand in his own.
“It’s not that simple” you tell him and he just smiles, dimples forming around his pressed together lips.
“Isn’t it though?” he says, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes and you sigh, finally removing your hand from his own.
“Date? As in fake date?” you ask and he nods, his head tipping to the side.
“Exactly, an agreement of sorts. We both benefit from each other, everything to gain and nothing to lose” he tells you like he’s already worked out every way this could end.
“We just met” you inform him and he shrugs, implying this wasn’t an issue.
“I’ve seen people date over less” he tells you and you sigh, holding your hand out to him. He looks are your empty palm confused and you quickly roll your eyes.
“You can’t take me out ion a date without my number dream boy” you tell him and he smirks while grabbing his phone out of his pocket and placing it in your hand. He watched as you meticulously open his contacts and punch in your number. You’ve named your contact ‘baby ❤️’ but he doesn’t get your real name until you type it into other names.
“Y/N? I like that” he smiles at you and you chuckle, clicking on the profile photo to take a selfie.
“We’re already off to a bad start if you want to stop liking people for just their surface things” he likes how quick witted you are and you don’t allow him a response as you lean into his personal space. “Can’t be a real girlfriend if I don’t have a profile picture in your phone”
You smile so easily and he instantly notices how beautiful it is. He’s not looking at the camera anymore but leaning in and taking in the sweet scent of your perfume mixed with the sunscreen and salty skin. You were like a walking beach and he loved that more than anything. That is how he finds his lips pressing softly against your cheek as the camera shutter clicks on his phone. Your body has chills that you have to brush off quickly as you look at the entirely real looking photo on his screen.
“If I didn’t like what was on the surface you would never be my fake girlfriend” he finally says as he takes his phone back before you could text yourself his number.
“I don’t like how easy this is for you. Are you sure I’m your first fake girlfriend?” you ask and he laughs, eyes falling on your face again.
“The first and the only” and you decide that coming into an agreement like this with a stranger shouldn’t be this simple.
“Then we need to lay some ground rules” this has him raising his eyebrows as you grab a napkin from the bar. He watches as you leaned over, searching for a pen behind the bar. Unashamedly he took the opportunity to inspect your ass, admiring the curve and thanking the see through fabric for revealing the cheeky bikini bottoms that laid over your large curves. He had never openly allowed himself to be attracted to a bigger girl. but now he was briefly wondering what it would be like to be suffocated by one.
“So, what’s these rules?” he smirked at you once you were sat back upright in your seat. He watched as you popped the cap off the pen with your teeth and leaving it in your mouth.
“Don’t worry pretty boy, I’ll keep them simple” you tell him, dropping the cap from you lips into the bar. He felt himself flush slightly at the nickname, watching as your neat and loopy handwriting moved across the napkin.
1. Must actively text/call/interact for a week before first “official” date.
2. PDA must be limited
3. Don’t catch feelings, no matter what
4. Attend whatever event your fake significant other asks of you
5. Most of all, don’t tell anyone, ever, that this is fake
“PDA must be limited?” you roll your eyes at the fact this was the only rule he questioned but you sign at the bottom of the napkin anyway.
“I don’t want to waste all of romantic gestures on something that isn’t real” you explain to him and he nods, sliding the napkin in front of him.
“I have a lot of work dinners I would like you to attend” he says as he signs the napkin.
“I’ll try my best” you tell him and now he’s furrowing his eyebrows at you.
“It’s your rule” he points at the napkin, more confused with you than when you first walked in here. “What could you possibly be busy with?”
“Work” you tell him and he still looks confused which you find adorable. Now rule number three only applies to you.
“Every night?” he questions and you chuckle as you return the pen to the other side of the bar.
“Usually, comes with the territory” and you laugh as he continues to try and process what you’re saying.
“What territory?” he asks and you smile, finishing the drink in front of you.
“My bar” and you gesture to the building around you. Rafe suddenly realizes why you know the names of the workers and why they know your usual drink order.
“You own this place?” and you nod, sliding off your seat and grabbing your bag. You also grab the napkin, now signed by you both.
“Don’t forget rule number one handsome” you tell him before heading towards the exit, determined to have a good rest of your day off. Rafe can only watch as you walk away, baffled any of what just happened actually occurred.
“Randy, I’m gonna need a refill”
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Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog
Comment if you want to be added to the tag list :))
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delete this if you find it weird or confusing 🙏
But headcanons of what snow (old) would act like if he saw the granddaughter of his first love that he betrayed or something , like she looks exactly like her and she’s been chosen for the games
Reminder of His First Love | Coriolanus Snow Headcanons
Warning/s: Old!Snow, mentions of death, possible grammar and spelling mistakes
Author's note: OMG THIS IS AMAZINGG!! I really tried and I truly hope that I did this justice it deserves and I'm sorry if this is not what you had on mind. Enjoy!
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So you're a granddaughter of one and only songbird, Lucy Gray Baird.
After she escaped form Snows clutches, she made it look like she was dead just so he could leave her alone forever.
Her heart broke from his betrayal.
She moved to the furthest part of the District 12 once she returned back home.
She tried to live her life to the fullest after everything that happened.
Later on she married a nice man from her District and they had a son.
She sadly passed away not long after.
However, her spirit lived on and passed itself upon her dear granddaughter who she sadly never met.
She would've been proud if she knew you.
Your father always told you that you were your grandmother's clone.
And boy was that true.
Your face, your hair, your voice, the way you carried yourself... everything was just like Lucy Gray.
Your mom always used to joke that she was reincarnated in came back as you.
And just like your grandmother, you got picked for the Hunger Games as a female tribute from District 12.
President Snow was sipping on his tea as he watched the reaping ceremony and he could swear that his heart stopped beating for a moment once he saw you in a colorful dress as you stepped up.
He tried to not think of Lucy Gray Baird for a long time, now imagine his shock when she stepped onto that stage once again.
Once the interviews came and you were interviewed by Caesar Flickerman a usual question came up.
"What is your talent?"
You stopped to think for a moment and answered without hesitation.
"I can sing." You smiled at him and then looked at the crowd. "I know that it may not help me much in the arena, but I'm really good at it."
Snow thought that you proved that, alright.
You formed alias whith Foxface in the arena.
As she died you held her in your arms as you sang her to sleep.
"No, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping..."
Snow was frozen in his seat.
During the games, he found it hard to watch them somehow.
It was perfectly clear that Lucy Gray came back to haunt him and destroy him.
And boy did she do exactly that.
He never would have thought that Lucy Gray's daughter would become the leader of the rebellion.
He should've explained it, though.
The rebells won and you were supposed to be the one to execute Snow.
The words that you told him once you met up with him before his execution echoed in his mind until the moment he died.
"I am absolutely repulsed by you."
With that, Lucy Gray's clone left him speechless.
He couldn't believe that after all those years she still affected him.
But you now what they say, you never forget your firsts.
Pretty soon he was tied up against the pole as you stood a few feet away from him.
"You're as pure as the driven snow." You mocked him before you let the arrow fly, ripping through the air.
It seems like Lucy Gray's mockingjays did harm him after all.
->
->
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TAGLIST:
@hellonheels-x @especiallythewomenandthechildren @prettyinsatiable @caroline-books @runningfrom2am @10ava01 @thecrowdedstreetin1944
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stone-stars · 3 months
Text
happy 6 years of naddpod everyone <3 (alt title: the dragon pussy podcast making me cry for 6 minutes straight)
Transcript:
Mee Maw: That's true, but… there's also somethin' else. Murph: And you see she pushes her cloak to the side, and you see she has black scabs-- Caldwell and Jake: Oh, no! No no no! Moonshine: Oh, Melora! Murph: --and deep crick rot all over her chest and neck.
Marabelle, weakly: Jolene? I-- I didn't realize I was gonna get to-- say I was sorry. Moonshine (pretending to be Jolene): Thank you, of-- of course you're forgiven! I love you so much! You're my big sister!
Melora: You're not cursed. You were born like this.
Hardwon: (desperately) Gemma? Gemma? Gemma wake up. Gemma baby. Hey. Murph: You see she's-- she's-- she's cold and dead. Hardwon: Fuck!
Balnor: I couldn't help them. I can barely swing a sword. Alanis: There's a war coming, and everyone needs to fight. Even old men who don't know how.
Beverly, crying: No, he's-- he's my light. He's my Pelor! He always was! I strayed!
Bev Sr: You tell her the truth, Bev. You tell your mom that I died in the Feywild. Beverly: (crying) You know I'm bad at lying. Bev Sr: It's not a lie, Bev.
Deadeye: Yeah, I know I'm down a hand. And an eye. And a life. But I got a soul, and a family. And I finally know which is worth more.
Deadeye: I hate to think about what woulda happened to me, but maybe more I hate to think about who I still would've been if I had never met you.
Rosa: JV, I can't-- I can't find my lantern. JV: Aw, well look at that? There's a lantern right here. Rosa: Are you sure that's mine? JV: Yeah. Yeah, I'll-- I-- I'm gonna go look for mine.
Hardwon: --interpretation. I-- I-- Moonshine: Hardwon, I really don't want you to want to die, because I want you to live so much and I don't want to be alone in that feeling.
Lydia: Elias, is that you? Hardwon: It's uh-- It's still little Elias. You saved the child, ma.
Lydia: I don't know what I've been these past few years, I don't know what I've been these past few decades. But I want you to know that when I was your mother that... you were wanted.
Murph: Somebody who felt they could never have a child… um, is holding their child. Moonshine: I-- I didn't want to need you, dad, but… now that you're here… it-- it's kinda nice.
Murph: Your father has given you... a strategy guide on how to beat him. Caldwell: I have to look away so that the tears don't ruin the pages.
Beverly: (tearful) I don't want to go. I don't want to go. But I have to. It's my duty. I have to do this. Moonshine: Okay, youngin, I want you to know. I will love you whatever you choose to do. But, here's my two cents: A child has a duty to his father, but a hero has a duty to the world. Now, I've got my opinion of which you are. But it's time for you to decide.
Bev Sr: Thanks, Bev. I always-- I knew I could make the deal, because I knew you'd stop me.
Moonshine: (tearful) I-- I've been wanting to tell you about this for so long, and I just didn't get a chance to. And I don't know if I will, so I just wanted to make sure I told you.
Moonshine, crying harder as she goes on: Paw Paw. You are… You are my best friend. And you are the best part of me. (sobs) And I am so grateful. For-- (sobs) the fact that so much of our lives have been braided together. But… where I'm going, next-- after we beat Thiala, which we will-- you can't come, mmkay? So I just need to make sure that you are taken care of, and I need to make sure that you take care of some people, okay?
Pendergreens: This time, you picked me up. And you were nice to me for no reason.
Pendergreens: If when you come back... if I'm different? Moonshine: Mhm? Pendergreens: Just, remember me as I am now. 'Cause I like who I am when I'm around you.
Death: I will take everything from you-- Hardwon: Quit pointing at people! Death: --until you come with me. Hardwon: Ok-- I'll go! I'll go. Beverly: Hardwon, no! Hardwon: Bring her back, and I'll come. Bring her back.
Lydia: All my life, people told me what I had to be. You don't have to be anything other than what you are.
Lydia: I think you should talk to your friends. Not because you owe them an explanation, but because you deserve to be heard.
Melora: Beverly. Beverly: Yes? Melora: I wish you could grow up in a normal world, but the Gods have not blessed you with a normal life. You are… afflicted with duty. Things thrust upon you far beyond your years.
Melora: The world should have protected you, but you have been asked to protect it. What an honor, what an injustice.
Moonshine: How long do Half-Elves live? Mee Maw: You talkin' bout Hardwon? Moonshine: I mean-- It's on my mind.
Moonshine: I guess, if I'm being honest, I don't know what it's gonna be like to know Bahumia without Hardwon Surefoot. (tearful) And there's a part of me that doesn't want to find out what that feels like.
Moonshine: There is something sour I probably need to swallow, though. It is-- There's people you meet that are once in a timeless body lifetime kinda people, right? Mee Maw: Oh, yeah. Moonshine: Okay. Mee Maw: And you keep 'em with ya. Moonshine: Okay.
Moonshine: (crying) It's okay, Balnor. Like all the most powerful things in this world, I knew I was only borrowing you.
Hardwon: Moonshine, when-- When I left Irondeep, I-- I didn't know where I fit in. And then I met you, and you didn't just let me in. You brought me in, and you thought I was good.
Balnor: I hope that you all get to leave this world with the same comfort that I had: knowing that it's in good hands. I love you. Murph: "Your knight, Balnor."
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full hcs for what post-route m6 would say if they got to talk to pre-memory loss mc for a few minutes?
The Arcana HCs: Post-Route M6 get 10 minutes with Pre-Memory Loss MC
Julian
He's sorry
There's a lot more he wants to say, but he begins with a stream of apologies when the person in front of him isn't the investigator who became his ally, but the assistant he failed to protect
He's not proud of it, but for a moment he feels himself slip back into who he used to be
Someone whose value lay solely in how useful he could be to someone else, self-hatred creeping back in like an estranged family member when he sees how useless he was to you
But the you from back then, standing in the middle of the plague and seeing someone stronger, better-fed, less sleep-deprived, the you from back then can see that he's grown. He's happy
The you from back then only seems to want to know if the plague you died trying to make up for had a cure, and if the doctor you lost your life assisting was ever able to find it
And he did. Twice. Without having to prove himself to anyone
Asra
Oh, how they used to miss this version of you
There's so much running through his head. On the surface, it's the first and only chance he's really had to see the difference between who you were when he lost you and who you are now
But deeper, it's the wave of phantom pains, pulling them under and back to when they would've given anything to see this version of you again, when they waded through hell to get you back
And the fear, flashing up from an underlying simmer, that the you then and the you now are so irreconcilably different that there's only one of you he can truly love
As they fold you into the kind of hug that only old friends share, the first difference they notice is that your heart doesn't beat in time with theirs the way they're used to - and it's their revelation
He had enough love in his heart for who you were - and it grew to love you back into his life - and more again to hold both of you in the current one. He has enough for every piece of who you are
Nadia
She's ... humbled, a little
The you that she knows and loves now is someone who has faced down the terrifying and illogical with her, who has supported her through the rejuvenation of an entire city
But the person standing in front of her reminds her more of the person who first walked in through the Palace gates
You're ... normal
Not in a bad way at all, but - you look like every other citizen her carriage passes on her way through the streets. She's reminded all over again how important seeing you in her dream was
Because if you hadn't been pointed out to her, if your first proper meeting hadn't been you freeing her from three years of nightmare plagued sleep, she would have never thought to seek you out
So when the you from the past seems surprised to see the elusive Countess, not nearly as well-known as her extravagant husband
All she really wants to do is thank you by showing you your worth
Muriel
Well. This is awkward. And that's coming from him
There's a well of emotions swirling in him as he looks at you, at the you that Asra left the hut to live with, at the you that took his only found family from him, at the you he came to resent
Because if the worst he can see when he looks at you is someone who captured more of his friend's attention than he did -
What do you see when you look at him?
The you from the past wouldn't have known him when he was retired and forgotten, the you from the past would've known him when he was a gladiator
Or more accurately, when he was the Count's executioner
He's not sure it's good for either of you to be looking at each other
But he can't turn away, and that's because not only do you not seem to be afraid of him, you won't stop looking at him
Your gaze feels the same. Exposing. Open. And though this one is considerably less affectionate - safe, somehow
Portia
She is both starstruck and deeply disappointed
Starstruck because the person she's looking at seems a lot more put together than who you are now, if a little less ... developed
Your magic hovers around you like an old friend and your eyes seem a little more sure about where they want to look
And that's exactly why she's also a little disappointed
Because you aren't like the person she loves now in that way. Who you are now is always looking, always soaking up the world around you like a sponge, because so much of it is still new to you
And nothing seems new to the past you - not even her
She's so happy to take your hands in hers and ask you all about who you've been and collect all the stories and fill in all the gaps she can, to better know how you got to where you are now
And then when the visit's over, she'll happily wave goodbye and walk forward to who you are now
But not without a word of encouragement to her darling first
Lucio
Oh. Ohhh boy
You see, he was fortunate to meet you when you knew fairly little enough to encounter him with an open mind. By the time you learned about his horrible past, you knew his present self
But past you ... past you seems to know quite a bit more
And he doesn't like the way you look at him
There's an edge of uneasiness to the way he plasters on a smile and loudly calls your name, only to be met with a gaze that's polite at best
You're not supposed to be polite to him, you're supposed to love him, to want him, to admire him when he's done good and call him out when he's done bad and forgive him when he tries to do better
At the same time, this is the version of you whose death he knows he's responsible for. It makes him wonder if he's a bad person for being relieved that you changed before meeting him
He'll be happy to leave - but he does manage an apology, first
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