#<-sorry to clog the tag but I feel like you guys will appreciate this

[thekittyburger]

proposing an alternative version of the ‘leashed’ x ‘holding leash’ meme because this:

Is not feral enough

[godsdefect]

9kay take my headconshjm. it's so hot outside. I'm eleting. I'm melting. I feel like an old man how the hell do I do things on this sight without looking like an idiot

ALSO I WRITE FANFICTION. GIVE ME WHUMP IDEAS. GIVE ME ANGST IDEAS. GIVE ME ANY IDEAS. I'LL WRITE THEM. I'LL WRITE THEM FOR YOU!!!!!!!!! I HAVE NOTHING TO DO!!!!!!!!

SORRY FOR PUTTING A THIRD WALL OF TEXT HERE BUT I'M SHAKING IN MY BOOTS WHAT IF THIS DOESN'T COMPRESS AND IT JUST CLOGS UP THE TAGS????? GUYS IM 𝘊𝘏𝘖𝘒𝘌𝘚 𝘖𝘕 𝘛𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘚 I DOTN WANT TO BE ANNOYING 𝘌𝘟𝘗𝘓𝘖𝘋𝘌𝘚 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘛𝘌𝘈𝘙-𝘐𝘕𝘍𝘜𝘚𝘌𝘋 𝘎𝘖𝘙𝘌 𝘍𝘓𝘐𝘌𝘚 𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙𝘠𝘞𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘌

- Trauma. The shit that he went through wasn't going to let him live the rest of his life peacefully, and a constant reminder of his trauma was the tremor he gained in his hands. Along with the tremor, little aches and pains would form in places like his back, legs, hands, just really anywhere and it would bug him to no end. His hand writing would change as well as his art style, but eventually he'd learn to navigate around it. The tremor would obviously worsen with anxiety attacks and nightmares. Speaking of nightmares, he would be embarrassed to admit he still has them pretty regularly, and he'd need about an hour to properly calm down after having one.

- He's a doodler. Usually his surroundings fall victim to being sloppily sketched into his case book or stranger's passing faces, but he takes a particular liking to drawing flowers. He likes the way the petals unfold, and this is totally not giving me an excuse to say that his favorite flower is starfighter lilies.

- Cole has a slight ick for needles. It won't freak him out too much if he has to hold a syringe or look at one, but for him to see one and knows it's going in him always makes his arms go stiff and look the other way. The pinch of it always makes him want to grit his teeth together. Syrettes especially freak him out.

- Malewife. He loves doing tasks around the house, especially doing dishes or doing laundry with his favorite outfits in them. He's found that he enjoys much simpler jobs or assignments outside of work hours due to how complex and stressful his job as a detective can be, along with cleaning and how it helps clear up his head after a long day.

- Favorite food. When people ask him if he has a favorite food he always writes off the question with a “I don't have one” because he doesn't like giving out personal info, he wants a thick emotional wall between most people in his life that he thinks keeps him safe. But I've deemed that this man has to have a simple but interesting choice of favorite food, and I've decided that to be waffles. Connected to his childhood, hard to mess up, and tasty with a few simple ingredients. He appreciates the recognizable flavor with such a humble breakfast meal, also likes them with nearly gross amounts of syrup and strawberries. No other fruit than strawberries or he can't look at them the same when they're on his plate.

- Love language is gift giving and physical touch, if coexisting in the same room doing your own thing can count as a love language, too, then count that in. Explanation on gift giving, he doesn't like directly giving the gift to his partner with the item in his hands, moreover just leaving it somwhere subtle until his partner finds it and gets surprised by something sweet. Even little things like a neat trinket he found he would bring home, maybe leave it on the nightstand of his partner's as a little way to say ‘this reminded me of you’. Explaining the physical touch thing, it has to be a certain degree of it. Touch that just confirms that someone's there, not too attention catching but just there. Also, the thing about just coexisting in the same room, it has to be somewhere he considers a safe space. His office, for example, is very very sacred to him, and when he lets someone in there to dawdle it's more of like a declaration of trust. The presence of the other would definitely soothe him and he'd stay silent, but it's still a huge milestone in the relationship he would have with someone, whether friend or romantic partner.

- How he sleeps. Usually Cole is so wound up tight that half the time if he has the whole day to sleep he'll only take a light nap before trying to do something productive around the house, although he could have the place bleached and scrubbed down twice and he would still clean it again if he had time. He generally loathes feeling lazy or unproductive to the point that he works himself into oblivion, driving to spouts of burnout/autistic burnout and general uninspiration. When things like that come around, his body moreover forces him to do things like sleep in, which is usually the only time he's ever brushed shoulders with REM sleep. Okay moving onto sleeping habits, he would definitely be a light sleeper and find himself drooling onto his pillow obnoxiously often. When he goes into deeper dozes you could throttle him and he wouldn't even feel it in his dreams. It's silly but it's a lighter side to how hellish it is for him to get some real rest.

- Cole's stance on religion. He used to be religious, but that was only when he was a kid. By the time he was a teen he just couldn't grasp that there was some big man in the sky looking down on them, it felt impossible to connect to Christianity in any kind of way. White noise was only ever heard when he asked God about something, and the first and last time he ever went to a priest about something like that he was told that he had done something wrong and that God was punishing him for it. This would obviously break Cole's heart as a young boy, but no matter how hard he tried he'd never be able to force God to acknowledge him. So he'd just give up. Religion after that would be kind of a sensitive topic for him, but he'd still say he was Christian in fear of being berated. His stance on firmly not being religious would further solidify when he was fighting in the war and as a last resort would pray to God to save his men only to see them get killed and think ‘no loving god would do this to his creation’.

- Cole gets really bad homesickness. Ever since he got home from the war leaving home would never be the same for him, especially now that he practically sees his home office as a refuge. Leaving home for work or anything like that wouldn't bother him the slightest, but being away from something he holds so near and dear to his heart for a few days would make him feel like he constantly needs to puke or that the air is unnecassarily suffocating.

- Cole is a silent crier. He will actually just sit on the edge of his bed and stare into nothing until he either wills the tears away or they just fall down his face. He’d probably just scrub them off with his sleeves and sniffle a bit before shaking himself out of it and distracting himself with work or liquor – maybe even a task around the house. He was raised thinking that the “boys don’t cry” stuff was real n all, which is really unfortunate, I feel like he would need to catch a break sooner or later or else he’ll have a breakdown at the slightest inconvenience.

[veradragonjedi]

Tag Game - New year's resolutions/wishes

Ty @its-kinda-snowy for tagging meeeee :D

I named them all last night let's see if I can do it again — Sorry that they're Long, I didn't mean them to be! TL;DR -> the bits in bold.

1. Start throwing out things I don't want, and using things I do, (don't panic about the future)

Every time I bought a scented candle, or a nice outfit, or a pack of nice pens, I'd suffer endlessly waiting for an opportunity to use them, and in the end I never would. I'm going easy on myself: unless there is a time in the near future where I am certain that these [scented candles] will be needed, I am using them Right Now. Because I like them. And this is why I purchased them.

(This also goes for things I don't need. If something is clogging up my counter space, or distressing me by taking up space, then it's going in the bin unless it's necessary for the next few weeks of my life.)

2. Write 140 words per day!

They don't have to be good or bad words, but they gotta be words and there gotta be 140 of 'em. At this rate, I'll have written about 50,000 words by the end of the year! This isn't enough for some people (I could never NaNoWriMo), but it's enough for me. I'll be channeling them into Blood, Blindfolds and Butterflies. Hopefully I can finish the fic, and if this works, next year I can update to 280 words for double the effect!

3. Start thinking about the Now.

I gotta say, I wasn't sure I'd make this, but I'm gonna try anyway. By focusing less on the future and the past, maybe I can let go of the anxiety I feel about the present! This goes well with "don't suffer twice" — the 'philosophy' that states that if you have nothing to worry about in the present, you shouldn't make something up to worry about in the future just to suffer. I have suffered a lot this year, needless to say, due to that depression and anxiety. I'd like to let it go.

4. Be more appreciative of myself!

One of the biggest struggles in my life — due to a load of educational trauma — is understanding myself to be Worth Something. I'm going to try and change that :3. This also goes for things I make and things I like! My fics, my arts, my special interest, etc. If I focus on those, and what they mean to me instead of what they cause other people to think, I think I'll be happier. That being said, this will probably have to be a three-year-resolution, as there's no way I'll manage it in just one, but maybe the extra day of a leap year will make it count 👀

5. This one's for @airlocksandaviaries — ily bestie.

I want to have more faith in people, for reasons I won't go into. It'll be tough, but — I'm gonna start having faith right now — I trust that my friends are gonna help me through it :")

Some of these seem life-changing to me, perhaps that's because I gotta change my life. My friend just put "read more", and honestly that's not any less important!

I'm tagging @iamscoby @airlocksandaviaries @doublechocolate @insertmeaningfulusername @babygirlbridger @jspookywolf @positivityjediprince @emilianadarling @24-guy ily guys :))

[jmagnabo92]

Hi! Sorry to bother, but i have a weird request... and I'm aware it's strange and I have no right to say anything about it since I'm not on discord and I'm not a content creator and I just enjoy reblogging stuff here on tumblr... and I'm also super-late to the party... But is there any chance you guys on discord could reconsider the name for Prongsfoot (romantic)? Maybe "inseparebel" or something, since we need something original enough that people won't clog up.... I know it may sound unfair to ask this of y'all as y'all already discussed about it and changed the ship name once already (maybe more), and really I'll understand if it's not possible because it's my problem, and you shouldn't have to lose more time on this, but it's just that bambibelle is associated with p*rn in my country and it creates some troubles sometime... (gosh I really hate that prongsfoot was invaded by platonic posts) I swear I know it's unfair, and I'm not sure if I'm doing the right thing in asking, but I thought to try :) in case just say, "sorry, we can't" and I'll understand. Really! Thank you for listening and a big thank you to you and all the other James/Sirius fans and creators for your service! I truly appreciate it and love you guys a lot.

Sorry and thank you. Cheers, H.

Hello, I appreciate your polite request.

However, we do still use the Prongsfoot tag, so if you'd like to not use Bambibelle tag, that's alright. You can always use the Prongsfoot tag, no one is requiring anyone use 'Bambibelle'.

A big problem we have is that most of the ship names we CAN come with will be stolen by Jegulus and/or has already been taken by them and thus, we're stuck. Unless you have any ideas?

Hopefully, some day people will learn to respect the Prongsfoot tag and we won't need a different tag. It does appear that we might be making some headway with regards to the tag, so maybe someday, we'll get there.

Unfortunately, for now, it doesn't feel fair to have to change our tag AGAIN, when it's only been like six months since we changed it out of pure frustration. Plus, it's hard to come up with a ship name that would appropriately work and get the fandom to follow it. I feel like if others respected our tag that would be a better endeavor than changing the ship name.

So maybe reach out to people misusing that tag? Maybe that's the better choice.

But I do appreciate your request and I'm sorry to deny it.

Thanks for the ask. :)

[seoafin]

Hello!!

I'm back again, also I'm sorry if I ended up clogging up your notifications because I think I just went through your entire 'gojo satoru x reader' tag cuz I'm just so in love with your writing! 💗💗

That one post about Gojou interrupting all your dates, and being completely obnoxious about it was soo funny, pls he's so ridiculous, but also its cute that he panics over just the notion of any man taking reader away from him, its always so funny (and kinda sad asghsiag) to me because Gojou overall is a very intelligent man, but then when it comes to emotions and feelings, he like loses all his brain cells LOL, and can be very round about and avoidant too (at least imo!)

Also that post about Gojou taking reader's v-card was sooo ADALKANGBFD your characterization was so on point because he would be all jokey and lighthearted about it but in the actual moment, he'd be sooo focused on reader's pleasure and also their comfort, and just being all praises and sweet words that are also so filthy that your brain just goes numb, I think just the knowledge of knowing that he is the first one (and hopefully the only one lol) that get's to be the one to see reader unravel and become undone like this just itches a certain itch in his heart, I'm so sure that after this he would become even more touchy and insatiable for reader's touch and attention, and affection, he'd be more possessive too, he makes me so *sighs dreamily* 🥺

Ahh also that wet shirt drabble(?) was soo good, and also soo like shoujo-esque (if I may makeup a word lol), but it fits him so well, joking about finding your bra boring, while every nerve in his brain just fuses and his heart is like five seconds away from combusting, and then giving you his jacket (not just to save you from embarrassment, but also cuz no one else can see you like that, and it also makes him so flustered), he's so ASKHSDUIFBHFD

And the breeding kink posts!!!! I'm screaming, pls I love Gojou and breeding kink so much, its so just *screams* (especially during that time of the month my brain is just like *gojou and breeding kink* 24/7 its borderline embarrassing LMAO) I think it just fits him so well, he's so possessive and obsessive, and lovesick, and touch starved (and love starved imo he's a very lonely and sad guy 😭) that there is no way that he doesn't want to have like an army of children with the reader, and I just know he would treat getting the reader pregnant like some life and death mission, he'd be so determined about the whole thing, just round after round until your inside are filled with his cum, and making sure that you don't waste any of his precious cum, he definitely has an app to follow reader's ovulation periods and such, he's so insane and lovesick fr 💗

Also! I thought I'd share some dad gojou fanart that I made the other day 🥺 (altho! no pressure to like or anything, I just though I'd share!) https://ame-791.tumblr.com/post/681386471584858112/ame-791-love-how-generally-most-of-us-believe

Oh! I just saw that tag about Gojou making a pun about fishermen and curse users in the HI arc, and I would love to hear more about it! I never saw it in the translation! (pls I wish the manga was better translated so non-Japanese speakers could better understand the wonderful work that is JJK 😭)

Anyways, sorry this ask got so freakishly long, I just wanted to drop by and tell you that I really appreciate all your Gojou stuff, and I hope that you continue to bless us with your amazing writing!! 🥺💗💗

hiii friend!!!! yes!!! i definitely think gojo short circuits when he gets flustered but manages to play it off bc rip!mc is just oblivious and doesn't really get it. i think gojo's a very introspective character but when it comes actually outwardly expressing his feelings things get lost (and that's being generous he was probably a tsundere in hs and i STAND by that 😭)

gojo would be extra touchy and clingy and kinda unbearable but i think people like him that way lmfao

also im so glad u brought up it being shoujo-esque because I DID intentionally make things shoujo-esque bc the potential is wayyy too underrated i think there should be more shoujo moments. they're highschoolers when else can i make things excruciatingly shoujo-esque!!!

as for the pun it's when gojo's talking geto into staying a little longer (so riko can play) and talks about how there are less 'fishy' (roughly translated??) curse users in okinawa than tokyo. and he makes a pun by combining the word 海人 (uminchu = fisherman) and curse user 呪詛師 (jujoshi) into 呪詛人 (jusonchu) which is basically gojo making a joke abt fisherman and curse users lmao but i guess that wouldn't really make sense translated but they could've just used 'fishy' which is the most straight forward translation you'll get (BUT THEY DIDN'T!!)

[thefanficmonster]

Bouquet

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having come clean about being single for a very long time now and considering herself completely out of the dating scene, Y/N’s confession is taken and responded to with a ton of kindness, especially from a special someone...

Requested by Anon. Hi hun! Thank you so much for your lovely request, it was such a joy to write! I’m so sorry for the long wait you had to go through but the fic is finally here and I hope you enjoy reading it! Love, Vy ❤

I roll out of bed with little to no desire to start my day. We haven’t got a scheduled stream for today and the clouds glooming in the sky seem to be promising rain so really what do I have to get up for except that it’s a rule society installed?

Just kidding, I’m basically stalling and that’s all.

So what happened was the streamer gang and I were playing Among Us last night and our conversation during the pause between rounds somehow swerved into relationship territory. I stayed quiet the majority of if not all the time because I had no valid input to offer.��

If you know me you know I’m not one of the performers on the dating scene. I have never really confirmed it with my fans - well, until last night, that is - but I bet they have picked up on that fact considering I’ve been on YouTube for around a decade and have never had a partner. That being said, I’d have to also mention that I have in fact dated but someone but it was before my YouTube era started. Me choosing this career path, which back then was just a hobby, had nothing to do with the relationship ending but it still motivated me to not to actively look for a relationship while I’m still focused on my career. It’s too much work, too much stress and requires a lot of balance I most certainly either don’t have or I don’t have the energy to put in balancing my romantic and professional lives. Luckily, no one’s ever pressured me into finding a significant other, not yet at least, so no societal pressure for me!

But I gotta admit I felt real awkward admitting all this last night.

“Hey Y/N what do you think? You’ve been awfully quiet?“ Rae asks, causing me to jolt in my seat from where I’ve been reading my chat for the past five minutes, my mic muted.

I quickly unmute to reply, blushing ever so slightly, “Um, sorry I was reading my chat. What do I think about what?”

“The gesture of giving flowers to your significant other, is it romantic or a waste of money and plant murder?“ Rae explains, still managing to catch me off-guard with her question.

I ponder what my response should be for a little bit before deciding to level it to a neutral level where I almost sound indifferent, “It is in fact plant murder basically and artificial flowers would definitely be a better gift - plus they’ll last longer.”

“Mhmm yeah that’s true.“ Poki agrees with me, “But there’s still the question of whether it’s a romantic gesture or not. I personally don’t think it’s overrated or cheesy, I actually quite like it. What about you, Y/N?“

And now she’s got me in a real trap that I can’t wiggle out of without speaking my truth. I don’t know where this sudden anxiety around the subject came from but it now resides within me rent free and makes me feel self-conscious and embarrassed of the confession I’m inevitably make.

“Um, I wouldn’t know for certain, I’ve never received flowers myself...“ I say sheepishly, cringing at the sound of my own voice, “It’s not like I’ve dated plenty of people and the one guy I did date wasn’t really romantic or anything, I mean - we were teenagers, after all. But when I think about it in theory I think I’d like the gesture: it’s thoughtful, plus you get a temporary but beautiful piece of décor out of it.“

I’m gonna hope I didn’t sound too pitiful or desperate. Of course I’m not gonna check afterward on the stream cause I’d rather live in the illusion of having sounded humorous rather than be given the confirmation that I didn’t.

“Wait, wait, wait, did you date your last boyfriend like a decade ago?“ Corpse is now the one talking and that makes me feel even more anxious. This is not the impression one would want to give to their crush, is it? Oh well, no turning back now.

“Correct.“ I reply with a laugh that I hope didn’t sound as nervous as it was.

“And you’ve never, like in your whole life, received flowers from someone?“ He sounds astonished which sort of makes me want to shrink up in my shell like a turtle. Too bad I don’t have a shell though. I’m genuinely thinking of the option to rip the router out of the outlet right now to save me the troubles but I’m not that immature. I’m surprised I’m even reacting this way - this topic doesn’t usually bother me at all but now for some reason I’m red as a tomato and shrinking in my chair. 

I know what the obvious answer is but I’d rather die than admit to it.

“Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds bad but I really don’t care.“ I make an attempt at changing the subject, swerving it back to the main topic rather than my lack of a love life, “I do, in fact, find the gesture sweet - it adds vibrancy to the relationship just like the flowers would add vibrancy and color to the space they’re put in.“

“Oh my gosh, that’s such a cool analogy!“ Rae gushes, “You’re totally right, it might be an old trick, but it’s aged like fine wine.“

Phew, God bless you Rae.

“Exactly, exactly.“ Corpse agrees as well but I don’t think he’s fully heard what Rae said since he sounds to have fallen in deep thought.

At least I got away with it with only making a SLIGHT nervous wreck of myself.

Yikes, was that horrible, though I don’t people will remember it for long. Sure, my fans have sent me thousands of lovely messages and pictures of bouquets and will maybe continue sending them for another day or two - which I highly appreciate, don’t get me wrong. I’m severely touched by this gesture of theirs and it almost makes me glad I finally ‘came clean’ about my romance-less life - however, it’ll fade overtime. I mean, who the heck cares if I’m single or not?

As I pour the milk over my cheerios which I’ve been snacking on dry for the past half hour as I rifled through the many notifications clogging up my lock screen, I hear the doorbell ring. I’m understandably puzzled by this, seeing as how I never get visitors so that doorbell rings only when I’ve ordered something, be it takeout or a random item off Amazon. However, I can’t remember ordering anything, at least not anything that should be arriving at the moment or even anytime soon - that glow-in-the dark curtain isn’t supposed to arrive until next week.  I make my way to the door, unbothered by the fact I’m still in my pajamas, and take a look through the peephole.

It’s a delivery guy...and he happens to be holding a huge-ass bouquet.

“What the...“ I mutter to myself as I unlock and swing open the door in the blink of an eye, “Hi?“

“Hi there, are you Y/N L/N?“ The delivery guy, who I’ve seen many times before and who I’m on pretty friendly terms with, asks me jokingly, sending a wink my way.

“I sure am.“ I reply, my gaze fixated on the breathtaking flowers he’s holding, “But those can’t be for me, that’s for sure.“

He fishes looks at his clipboard one more time, nodding before he looks back at me, “I double and triple checked, Y/N, they’re for you. Here, have a look if you don’t believe me.” He turns the clipboard  for me to see and he is actually telling the truth. I mean, I doubt he’d have any reason to lie to me but mix-ups happen all the time.

“Um, ok thanks. Sorry for the halt, it’s just...I’d hate to be the recipient of the flowers meant for another girl.” I apologize as I take the bouquet for him, still in awe of the fact I’m the one it was made and meant for and sent to.

I say a quick ‘bye’ to the delivery guy before practically running inside to inspect this bouquet for a card from the sender. I have my guesses: it has to be someone who was present during the stream last night and someone who knows my address. Hopefully it’s someone from my friend group and not a fan who watched the stream and just happens to know my address. I’d still appreciate the gesture, but I’d also install security cameras if that was the case.

Something about the color scheme of the flowers - pink and black - gives me Rae vibes since she constantly teases me about my aesthetics contradicting each other. But then again, Poki does it too so it could be her as well....

Oh...OH GOD IT’S NEITHER OF THEM

                                                               ~ ~ ~

I’ve been sitting here, keeping myself a safe distance from my phone so I’m not the first one to send her a text. So I don’t ask if she got what I sent her. So I don’t ask what she thought of it, how the bouquet looks in her living room, how it smells, how it makes her feel. I have so many questions so that phone is best off at a major distance from me. I’m the one who’s better off with such a huge distance between me and the device, to be perfectly honest.

Was it a bad idea? Should I have slept on it - or just thought about it longer cause sleep and I don’t get along? Should I have at least waited a day or two? Should I-

My phone vibrates with a notification and I practically fly to it from across the room, grabbing it and unlocking it asap. My heart sinks and takes off like a rocket simultaneously when I see I’ve been tagged in Y/N’s Instagram story. I nervously tap the notification that sends me to the picture of the bouquet I sent her with some text written over it.

“Thank you, Romeo ;)“

Somehow that one sentence answers all those aforementioned questions.

Is this what people refer to as butterflies in one’s stomach? Cause it feels significantly more like a crush...oh wait.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse  @sunnyrae-cessh  @ladykxxx08  @meowiemari  @renupf  @booklover76

[prismatixxkhaos]

Hi sorry not to clog up the tag for a sec but

I just wanna let y’all know that I’m very thankful for y’all who like my art, and also wanna let y’all know that I appreciate it so much!! I feel awkward just posting stuff and just…not acknowledging any of y’all, so again just wanna say thank you guys for being welcoming and supportive towards me 💕❤️❤️

(Seriously tho when I first started posting DK art I thought there was literally nobody in the fandom or that people would think I’m cringe but…here we are LOL)

[beykhabarr]

Memories and Sunlit hair.

Sirius has to attend a party organized by his parents, and has a panic attack

So it all came down to this, Sirius thought to himself as he braced himself for the panic taking over him in waves. The lights were too bright for his eyes, and he could hear everything and nothing all at once in the heavily crowded ballroom. He sat hidden away from his mother’s eyes, trying to control the tremble of his fingers as they turned to ice. He tried not to think about how he could feel the sweat sliding down his forehead, as his heart pounded out of his chest.

 “You alright mate?” He heard a voice, he couldn’t quite put a finger on who’s voice it was until Andromeda came and sat across from him. “You look pale,” she said, taking his trembling hands in hers “and cold” she added.

“It’s-It’s probably nothing,” he said and gulped down the drink in his hand in one go, hoping that its bitter sting would make it easier. It didn’t.

“Hey, Siri” Andromeda spoke again, and gently took the glass from him. 

“Do you have your pills?” She asked him, he shook his head, not trusting himself enough to speak.

“Okay, that’s not going to be a problem, should I get you something?” 

He didn’t know how to tell her, but he needed her to stop talking, he needed the strain in the back of his head to loosen up, it felt like all the veins in his head were rebelling against him, all his life he craved control, and the seized the power over himself from his family, and now his body won’t even listen to him.

“Ice,” he said, so quietly he wasn’t sure she heard him.

But she got up, and walked away, he put his head in his arms, and let the waves wash over him. “Imagine you’re riding a tide” Madam Pomphrey had told him once, let it wash over, accept it, acknowledge it” he did, as he inhaled and exhaled. He closed his eyes, and thought about Hogwarts, the night was going to end and he would be back in his apartment with Remus in no time, this party was his last straw, it brought back memories he was trying so hard to forget. If he could, he thought to himself, he would laugh, because there was no forgetting. He would leave this place behind, he told himself, he is never coming back, he told himself, he told his brain to shut up because he knew he was never coming back. He felt something cold press to his neck, and he leaned into it. He felt a gentle press on his shoulder and he immediately knew who it was “Re” he mumbled. 

“Yes, love”

“I—” The horror of Remus being here, among his family suddenly made his throat constrict.

“Shh” he said “They can’t see me, and neither can you”

He relaxed against the back of his chair, and the back of his chair, hearing his heart pounding in his chest, the beating got slower and slower, he flexed his fingers, finally coming back to his body, he felt his breath even out. 

He exhaled.

Remus whispered in his ears, “I told you you shouldn’t go alone”

“I’m tired,” Sirius said, unable to think of coherent words or thoughts.

“Let’s go home, love”

“I don’t think I have enough energy to apparate” Sirius whispered back.

He felt a chair pull up beside him, he felt Remus as he gently sat down. “We can wait, there’s no hurry”

“I need to sleep” 

“Don’t you always,” Remus said and chuckled to himself. 

“It’s not my fault I have to carry the weight of being the funny one of the group, it's tiring,” Sirius said.

Andromeda slyly walked up to them, and somehow knew that Remus was there.

“Hey, listen, I am sorry he isn’t supposed to be here, but I just needed you to feel...better you’ve been high strung ever since you got here,” She said, sitting across from him “I am sorry”

“You called him?”

“Yes, of course, I sent him a Patronus and as soon as he got it he apparated here”

“I really appreciate it, but I could have managed on my own” Sirius said, he felt the weight of everything Remus did for him, how he could never repay any of his favors.

“Hey, I know you could have managed it alone, but you shouldn’t have to, I like being there with you when you need me,”

Sirius wanted to see Remus, the more he spoke the more eager Sirius grew, but he felt the fatigue take over him, his eyes were heavy and he feared that if he didn’t lay down soon, he might pass out.

“I really need to lay down,” Sirius said.

“You could sleep in your room” Andromeda suggested, but the thought of going back to his room repulsed him and made the hair on his neck stand up. It will only be a couple of hours, he told himself, he just needed to sleep for a couple of hours.

“You’ll stay right?” He asked Remus, half expecting him to stand up and leave.

“Yes, of course, love,” he told Sirius instead.

Sirius leaned heavily on invisible Remus, “why do you always smell so good”

Remus only laughed “You know I love you right?” he whispered, Sirius knew, and it still surprised him, that this boy was his to love, and keep. “I know” he whispered back.

“Let’s go,” Sirius said, and Remus draped the Invisibility cloak over both of them.

Still leaning heavily on Remus, they made their way out of the brightly lit ballroom, into the gloom that was the rest of the house, the floorboard creaked under their feet, but Sirius doubted that anyone could hear them over the loud music. They made their way up the stairs.

 When they finally reached his room, Sirius’s hand rested on the cold doorknob, unsure of whether or not he wanted to see his childhood flash before his eyes.

“I’m here” Remus whispered, “I won’t let them hurt you, Sirius”

He decided to rip the bandage off and stepped in.

It was just like he remembered it, all walls bare except for a few punk rock posters to bother his parents, and black splotch on the walls where his mother had once slammed his mascara bottle.

“Wow, I still hate this place,” Sirius said pulling Remus in.

Remus shut the door behind him and let his cloak slip to the ground. His hair was tousled, and his cheeks red from the heat, he looked an unlikely sight against the backdrop of his room, Sirius smiled to himself and threw his arms around Remus.

“Hey” he whispered into his neck.

“Hey,” Remus said, planting a kiss on Sirius’s temple.

“I missed you”

“We met this morning, but me too”

When they pulled away, Remus threw himself on the bed, and it made an unwelcome sound. “I hope I didn’t break it”

“I hope you did, mother will be pleased to find the bed broken,” Sirius said and smirked. 

“Wow, this room looks nothing and everything like you,” He said.

“Yeah please elaborate on that” Sirius said as he got in the bed beside Remus.

“I mean, there’s this 16-year-old guy desperately trying to rebel against his abusive family, while still trying to keep who he is to himself,” Remus said, and Sirius hid his face in the nook of Remus’s neck, “Your room, my love, is a story written in bare walls”

“You make it sound more poetic than it actually is, I only have bad memories of this place”

“Everything about you is poetic, how many times do I have to tell you?”

Sirius groaned against his neck, “Why are you being so cheesy”

“What!” Remus laughed “I love you”

“I love you too”

They both remained quiet for what felt like an eternity, Sirius’s consciousness giving in to his fatigue, Remus’s arms tightened around Sirius suddenly, and in his ear, he whispered “I am sorry you had to go through that, my love, I am sorry they taught you that it was difficult to love you when it is the easiest thing in the world” 

A tear trickled down Sirius’s face, unannounced.

“I wish I could take away the pain, the memories that clog your view, the tremors in your skin” Remus continued, unaware the Sirius wasn’t asleep yet. “I wish I could rub the grief off of you as if it were a smudge on your cheek, but it's something you carry within you,”

Sirius tried to open his mouth to say something, but he didn’t trust himself enough, he would fall apart.

“I wish I could fill you, and this room with light that will fight off this darkness that lives inside of you”

Sirius couldn’t say it, because he was carried away by sleep, but Remus had filled this room with his smell, his words and above all the light that he carried within. When he closed his eyes, he no longer was chased by the monster under his bed or the ones that lay beyond his frail door, but his vision was full of a boy with Hazel eyes, looking down at him, and light-reflecting in his golden locks.

tagging some of my moootss

@momo-all-the-way @ithefriendlyneighborhoodasexual @crescentmoonsparkles @anxiousbimess

[fight-surrender]

5 Favorite Lines from 2020

Y’all! Thanks so so much for the tags @thehoneyedhufflepuff @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @captain-aralias @carryonmylovelies @amywaterwings @bazzybelle @parijpg @letraspal @ninemagicks @xivz (and frankly thanks to you and everyone else who wrote/made art this year. I love seeing/reading your work, it’s simply such a source of joy.)

Sorry I’m late to this party, I was out of town all week with no desktop access. Anyway, better late than never I suppose. I’m too far removed from writing these fics to truly remember favorite lines, so here are some that I particularly enjoyed writing. I’ve also realized that my faves are all dialogue...bc that’s sort of my thing :/

I’m putting this all under the cut, not for any reason other than to not clog your feed with my random musings...

1. I have to pick from Howlin’ Forever. My one completed multichapter fic where Simon gets Turned into a werewolf & Baz helps him through it & fluff ensues. Technically I started it in 2019 (which for me, frankly, was actually a far worse year than 2020 so that’s sayin’ something.) Chapter 11 may be my favorite chapter in the story, it was a joy to write (the whole fic was, really) Here’s one of my fave lines: 

“This was a slightly better than abysmal idea, for a first date, Snow.”  I say, snuggling closer to him.

He gently pulls my hair aside, placing featherlight kisses to my neck. “Mmm, you can plan the next one.” A kiss under my jaw. “Something sexy and academic, like the reading room at the British Museum.”

“Museums are sexy,” I say as I turn to face him, “And don’t forget libraries. So hot.”

Fun fact: one of my favorite comfort fics is “The Sky Isn’t Black Anymore” by the incredibly talented @captain-aralias, there’s a moment where Simon pulls Baz’s hair back to kiss his neck over his shoulder and I loved that mental image so much I added it here. 

2. I’m just scrolling through my work now. This was from Close Encounters, a fic I wrote for @bazzybelle‘s bday, this whole exchange just cracked me up: 

“I know my pecs are a work of art, Simon, but my eyes are up here.”

“No, I mean yeah, but—” His mouth curls into a sneer as he leans in, poking at a spot just to the side of my right nipple. “Is that a—” Snow flicks his finger, like he’s trying to rub off a piece of lint. “White chest hair?”

Fucking hell. “Where?”

“Right there,” Simon is still pointing, “I didn’t even know that was a thing. I mean I know people get white head hair, but—” His brows nearly touch as he looks up at me, “People get white hair everywhere?”

“Hair is hair, Snow. It’s all subject to the fickleness of melanin, you nightma—” Simon’s eyes widen, and his hands go to his mouth.

“Oh my God,” he laughs, pointing again, this time at my crotch. “That’s why you started shaving your pubes, isn’t it?”

My mouth drops and I feel my face heat.

“All that naff about ‘enhanced sensation’ was total bollocks wasn’t it?”

3. Ok these lines are a bit long. Sorry. This is from a fic I wrote early in the pandemic called Love In the Time of Quarantine. The inspo for this line came from Heartstopper by Alice Oseman (from Charlie’s dad) The visual of Malcolm saying this makes me happy. 

“There will be no hanky panky in this house.” Malcolm Grimm is tutting at us and shaking his finger for emphasis. “No. Hanky. Panky.”

4 This one’s from another early quarantine fic- Everything and More. I think the idea of Simon & Baz curling up and watching Tiger King together is really funny. 

“Sounds like we’ve got our evening cut out for us then.” Snow heads into the kitchen. “Bagsy the remote. We’re totally watching another Tiger King.”

“Merlin,” I sigh, “I may need more than beer and wine to get through another episode of that train wreck.”

“That bitch Carole Baskin,” Simon shouts, (in a dreadful approximation of an American accent) his head buried in the fridge, “Totally fed her husband to the tigers.”

5. This one is from my Whumptober collection, West Texas Skies (It was named after the prompts but I just renamed it). I’m not sure I have a favorite line, I really like the vibe of this whole fic and think I want to get back to it someday. 

Baz makes his way up my porch steps. He stubs his cigarette out on on his boot and tosses it in the yard.

“Dude, littering.”

“Oh, sorry.” Baz lopes back down the stairs. He picks up the butt and looks around for a receptacle. Finding nothing, he pockets it and slouches over to the chair next to mine. He picks up my mug and drains it. His hand trembles when he returns the mug to the table. Nerves? Hunger? Thirst?

“The fuck, Baz?” Shep takes this opportunity to exit the premises, slinking off the deck to check on the goats. My heart is beating like a jackrabbit and I simply cannot think. Baz Pitch is here. Alive (ish). Drinking my whiskey. He smells the same, Marlboro red and black tea. He’s that close.

I want to take him in my arms, smooth the hair from his face, taste his skin. I close my eyes. Breathe. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Anyway. Happy New Year to all of you in the CO/WS fandom. You guys are such an amazing, talented group of people. I love and appreciate you all. 

[greyhavensking]

100 Followers Celebration!

God, I’m late with this, but I finally passed the 100 follower milestone and I wanted to do something for it to show my appreciation. That something turned out to be almost 3000 words of emotional hurt/comfort and dumb boys in love, so I hope someone enjoys it.

I can’t even express how grateful I am to have (over!!!) 100 people think I’m worthy of following when mostly I just reblog other people’s posts and scream in the tags, but this is me trying to get the point across. Thank you, thank you, thank you to the people who continue to tolerate my bullshit and occasionally encourage my sad stucky edits and my angsty fluff fanfics. You’re all amazing and wonderful people!

Also cross-posted on Ao3 here.

you left your mark on me like footprints in the snow

“Buck, you awake?”

It’s sort of a moot point, seeing as Bucky — light sleeper that he is — would have woken up the second Steve stepped across the threshold of the living room, but he feels compelled to ask nonetheless. His ma was a stickler for courtesy, especially when it didn’t cost anyone a dime, and while he can’t quite manage to defer to politeness when it comes to aggravating superiors, it comes easy as breathing with most everyone else.

Bucky isn’t everyone else, and half the time Steve doesn’t bother filtering himself around him, but tonight—

Tonight’s a bad night.

But it’s not Bucky’s night for a change.

As Steve pauses at the back of the couch, arms crossed and head ducked, he sees Bucky smoothly push himself up into a sitting position from where he was stretched across the cushions, rolling his shoulders back as he scrubs his flesh and blood hand over his face. He was awake, judging by the dog-eared book he lets slide to the floor; Steve can’t make out the cover from this angle, but he’d bet anything it’s one of those YA novels Sam recommended to him that he refuses to thank Sam for. Something about Greek gods and terribly unlucky teenagers. Steve doesn’t go for fantasy often, but he knows Bucky’s been plowing through the series for the last few weeks.

“I’m always awake,” Bucky says once he’s gotten a good look at Steve, despite Steve’s best efforts to tuck all the visible hurt away behind an admittedly shaky smile. He’s joking, mostly — when Bucky first came home, he rarely got more than an hour or two of sleep before some imagined threat had him prowling the confines of the apartment, checking and rechecking the locks and the security system. Nowadays his sleepless nights are still disturbingly frequent, but not every night, and he can usually pass them by reading or watching whatever he finds most interesting on TV. 

Bucky quirks a brow when Steve remains silent, tilting his head. Assessing. “You, though,” he continues as if he hadn’t paused at all, “you should be dead to the world, Rogers. Sawing logs, or whatever it is they say when you snore louder than a damn foghorn.”

“I don’t — I don’t snore,” Steve bites out, reflexive, which just gets Bucky’s other brow jumping up to join the first.

“So it’s one of those nights, huh.” Bucky nods to himself, twisting around on the couch to lean back against the armrest, legs spread invitingly. He pats the space between his thighs. “Good thing I’m a certified Steve Rogers expert and know exactly what you need.”

Steve considers refuting that claim, but he can’t bring himself to bother with it. A flare of indignation does pulse under his skin (he hates the idea that he needs to be managed), though it peters out just as quickly as it came, taking with it the last shred of warmth Steve’s been clinging to since he slipped out from beneath his bed covers. Bucky’s right, anyway; this is what Steve needs, something they’ve pieced together in the months after Bucky felt safe enough to put himself back into Steve’s orbit.

Rubbing briskly at his upper arms, more for something to do with his hands than any hope of warming himself up, Steve hesitates another moment before he sighs and climbs over the back of the couch to crawl in between Bucky’s legs. Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s waist instantly, tugging him until his back is flush with Bucky’s chest. He noses at the nape of Steve’s neck, presses a kiss there that has a delightful shiver rippling down Steve’s spine, then wedges his chin into the space between neck and shoulder.

“What’s the threat level with this one?” Bucky asks quietly. Threat level is their established short-hand for how bad a nightmare was, what kind of toll it took on them. It’s easier getting that out than something like I woke up crying reaching for you can’t get my heart to calm down can’t breathe woke up alone and had to bite back a scream, and Steve can admit that Bucky’s nothing short of a goddamn genius for giving Steve a way to explain without explaining. 

“‘Bout a seven,” Steve says, which means it’s closer to a nine than he’d like. He can still feel the phantom chill of wind and snow on his face, the ice-clogged water in his lungs, arms outstretched but grasping at nothing nothing nothing. Bucky’s face, frozen over and glassy-eyed. No air, no breath, no life in either of them — but Steve, undead, trapped below the ice, forced to watch it all play out on repeat—

“Uh-huh. Seven. Sure, I’ll go with that for now.” Bucky’s voice is right against his ear, his breath warm, the solid weight of him so very real that Steve shudders again, leaning into him even though there’s hardly space left between them to close. “You need me to do anything extra special?”

Steve shakes his head, then pauses, reconsiders. “Keep talking?” 

His nightmares are — strange. They’re quiet, mostly, unless they involve the train, and then it’s the clack-clack-clack of the tracks, the high-pitched whistling of the wind, his own desperate screams. But when it’s the ice… it’s almost silent. Like an old film, the reels spinning on soundlessly around him. Colors are muted, too, shades of gray and blue and the occasional vibrant streak of red that could be blood, could be his suit, could be the afterimage of staring too long into a bright light. 

Bucky huffs a laugh and tightens his arms around Steve, and in return Steve shifts to lay his hands over Bucky’s skin, one sliding along his forearm, the other reaching down to slip under the hem of Bucky’s shorts. He’d grab the metal arm (it doesn’t bother him, and it’s body temperature from being tucked under Bucky on the couch) but he needs skin right now, and he knows Bucky doesn’t begrudge him it.

“Talking,” Bucky murmurs. “You gotta pick the one thing I’m no good at anymore, don’t ya. No, no, don’t start,” he says, reading the tensing of Steve’s body all too well, and Steve slumps back into his hold, caught out. “I’m not sayin’ I won’t do it, and I’m not gettin’ all self-deprecating on you, either. Words are hard, sweetheart, you know that.”

“Sorry, Buck. We can just put the TV on, or—”

“I said it’s fine, Rogers. Relax. I’m not in the habit of doing things I don’t want to these days, even for you, which is a goddamn miracle considering all the shit I put up with for your benefit when we were kids. Christ.”

Steve rolls his eyes, which he knows is the exact reaction Bucky was going for. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’d I talk you into that was so bad?”

“God, Steve, Snow White? How many times d’we see that in theaters?”

“What? You loved that movie!”

“No, you loved that movie, despite being fuckin’ colorblind. I went because I’m a goddamn sap and I couldn’t get enough of the wide-eyed baby deer act you pulled every time you got to see all that animation in action. You sparkled, Steve, it was addicting.”

“What?”

“Whaddya mean, what? Can’t a guy get all sentimental over how cute his best guy looked staring adoringly at a cartoon?”

“No, I mean— you went for me? We weren’t even…”

“First of all, jackass, I don’t gotta be in love with someone to wanna see them happy. Second, I honestly can’t tell you if I realized that I was in love with you back then. It’s all mixed up with how I definitely felt during the war, and then with everything that came with thawing out here.”

Hold on— 

“Bucky. Bucky. The war?”

Steve’s half-twisted around in Bucky’s arms now, staring at him, slack-jawed, because they’ve never had this conversation before. Nothing even close to this has ever come up between them. When they got together this century, they only acknowledged that they’d never considered doing so back in the thirties, that their feelings only really surfaced now because they finally had a moment to rest without the fear of discovery hanging over their heads. Bucky has never breathed a word of loving Steve at any point before that.

But Bucky doesn’t seem to understand what’s running through Steve’s head, because his brows furrow as he stares right back at Steve. “Why are you acting so surprised? You think I curled up with you every night just ‘cause I was cold?” He pauses. “I mean, alright, yes, I was freezing and you were a goddamn furnace all of a sudden, but—”

“You have never said shit about this, Barnes, what the fuck?”

And there’s Bucky rising to the challenge in Steve’s voice, lifting his chin and narrowing his eyes. Refusing to let go of Steve, though, for which he’s grateful; he needs the grounding weight of him all the more in this moment.

“I ain’t exactly proud of it, Steve. You and Carter? Fuck, you made my blood boil with her.”

Steve blinks. Blinks again, shakes his head like that’ll make Bucky’s words fall into a neat little line he can actually understand. He feels Bucky’s chest expand as he breathes in deep, feels it deflate as he lets it out in a heavy sigh. His eyes are nearly silver in this light, and so sheepish that Steve just wants to set this aside and kiss on him until he’s smiling again. But — he wants to know, fuck, he doesn’t like secrets between them anymore, and he knows Bucky’s the same way. It’s not the best time to get into this, but really, in the grand scheme of things… it’s as good a time as they’ll get.

“God, alright. I was jealous, okay? Whether or not I knew what you were to me while we were still in Brooklyn, I sure as hell knew it then when I was watching you two dance around each other for months. The way you’d stare after her, the way she tucked herself right into your side whenever you were in the same room… I was sick with it, hatin’ her and hatin’ myself for feeling that way when I didn’t have a fuckin’ claim to you. When you were happy with her and I couldn’t make myself be happy for you. You think I like admitting I couldn’t put my best friend’s happiness above my own bruised ego?”

“Buck…”

“Aw, don’t look like that, sweetheart. Was my own fault for never saying anything. And, well, for all I knew back then you were straight as an arrow. You thought you were pretty straight, as I recall. Maybe it woulda just driven a wedge between us if I’d said something.”

“Fuck that.” The words are whispered, but they get Steve’s point across just fine — it’s Bucky’s turn to blink, leaning away from Steve slightly like he needs a better look at him to process what he’s just heard. Steve just follows him, getting his knees under him so he can cup Bucky’s face in both palms, holding him close. “Fuck that. I always loved you, Bucky Barnes. Platonic, romantic, doesn’t fucking matter. If you think for one second I woulda left you over something like that—”

Bucky laughs again, a quick, sharp little thing that barely interrupts Steve’s vehement protests, but the kiss Bucky plants on his lips does the job of getting his attention.

“What a stubborn asshole you are, sweetheart.”

Scowling, Steve kisses Bucky again, harder this time but still achingly sweet. “You think I’m lyin’?”

“Do I look like an idiot? No, I don’t think you’re lying, but that’s what you’re saying now, with the glorious gift of hindsight. You can’t say for sure that’s how you would have reacted, and I wouldn’t have blamed you for it.”

“One more time, Barnes, ‘cause I do think you’re a little slow on the uptake tonight. Fuck that. You got my ass through every fuckin’ illness that so much as looked at our borough, got me through ma’s death… you think you catchin’ feelings was gonna scare me away? I was afraid of you leaving, god, I woulda clung to you forever if you let me, even if you got married, had kids, whatever. I probably wouldn’t have believed you could like me, but I wouldn’t have been mad at you over it.”

It’s quiet between them once Steve’s gotten it all out of his system, save for his heart thudding in his chest and their quickened breathing, the tick-tick-tick of the ceiling fan above them. Steve refuses to look away from Bucky’s searching gaze, and god, yes, he’s a stubborn asshole, but he’s also right! He’s right and he’s going to prove that to Bucky, one way or another, because this is too important to let go. He doesn’t want Bucky thinking even for a second that there is a scenario where Steve would throw him over for someone else. Anyone Steve loved — anyone who loved Steve — would have had to accept that Bucky came first, always.

In hindsight, Steve maybe should’ve figured out his own damn feelings long before he reached the 21st century, but that wasn’t exactly his point right now. 

Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there like that, holding one another without saying a word, but he doesn’t tear his eyes away from Bucky’s for a single moment of it, willing him to understand that he’s always been Steve’s anchor, his touchstone — that absolutely nothing short of death could ever come between them, and fuck, even that didn’t stick. And he thinks Bucky might be getting there, the way a slow, tremulous smile spreads across his face, a flush high on his cheeks that does things to Steve’s heart. 

“I love you.”

Steve’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, automatic, ducking his head down to press into Bucky’s neck, the fabric of his worn t-shirt soft against Steve’s cheek. It’s far from the first time either of them have said it, but Steve still gets so giddy over it, knowing he gets to have this, have Bucky, to hold and kiss and adore this man in his arms for as long as they’re both alive… it’s heady, and something Steve doesn’t want to take for granted, not even for a second. The road they took to get here was too brutal for Steve not to be damn grateful for every moment they have together. 

Which means he doesn’t mind the teasing they get from the rest of the team, the not-so-sly remarks and gratuitous eye rolls that Sam and Natasha are so fond of, the downright lewd shit that gets thrown right back in Tony’s face when Bucky reminds them all that neither of them are innocent grandpas. 

It’s all part of getting to love Bucky the way he deserves, the way he’s always and will always deserve, and if there’s one thing about the future that Steve unequivocally loves, it’s that he can be as open as he wants about just how much he loves Bucky. And, if people do have a problem with it, Steve can kick their asses — mostly over Twitter, but still. He’s a fan.

“Love you too, Buck.”

Bucky hums, content, and readjusts so that Steve is mostly laying flat on top of him, the both of them stretched out across the couch. He snags the blanket from where it’s half-spilled onto the floor, draping it over Steve enough that it covers the majority of their bodies. Steve snuggles in, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s back, giving him a gentle squeeze to show his appreciation. 

He’s all but forgotten the phantom cold that drove him out here in the first place.

“Wanna try going back to sleep?” Bucky murmurs, rubbing circles into Steve’s back.

“Nah. You’re still gonna be here, don’t wanna sleep alone.”

“Mm, fair point. You just gonna lay here, then?”

He could, Bucky won’t protest his weight or the company. “Yeah. Right where I wanna be. You could read to me, though?”

“I’m in the middle of the book, Rogers, you won’t have any clue what’s going on.”

“Just like the sound of your voice, Buck. It’s soothing,” Steve argues, and he’s slurring his words a little, he knows, but he doesn’t care and Bucky doesn’t call him out on it. “Read to me?”

He feels the rumble of Bucky’s laughter in his own chest, pressed right up against him, then the shift of the couch as Bucky grabs his book from the floor and braces it against the dip in Steve’s spine so he can read.

And yeah, Bucky’s right — Steve couldn’t tell you a thing about what’s happening in the book right now (there are gods and monsters and quippy teenagers, but none of it settles quite right in his brain, none of it takes any recognizable shape) but he couldn’t be happier regardless.

Turns out it’s not so bad of a night after all. 

[myfalsedevotion]

Tag Games

Okay, so I haven't really been responding to any tag games since two months ago and I know I'm the worst but I'm going to do them all now in a row in here, and if you guys have tagged me, know that I saw it and appreciated it I just didn't have the mental capacity at the time and now I find myself with way too many tag games I didn't even respond to and feeling extremely guilty... I'm sorry :S

Everything below the keep reading so I don't clog anyone's dash!

First one, tumblr informs me it's from 64 days ago (I'm really really sorry), thank you @mychemicalobsession514 so much for the tag!

Mine would be AU with an attempt at humour hahhahaha I think it fits 😅

***

Thank you for the tag @ireallydontknowhowtolife, so sorry for the delay :S

indoor plants or gardens // cloud-watching or star-gazing // water or fire // paperback or hardcover // running or hiking // sleeping with socks or without // fruits or vegetables // hanging plants or succulents // dark wood or light wood // handwritten or typed // instagram or pinterest // braids or pigtails // books or movies // oceans or meadows // forests or fields// sweet or salty // ice cream or chocolate // hoodies or sweater // long hair or short hair // piercings or tattoos // summer or winter // boots or sneakers // cars or motorcycles // curls or straight hair // castles or cottages // sunny days or storms // reptiles or birds // disney or nickelodeon // strawberries or watermelon // essays or posters // phones or laptops// glass or stone // dark or light // photos or painting // circuses or theaters // reading or writing // dogs or cats// poetry or novels // monsters or ghosts // thrift shops or libraries // fiction or non-fiction

***

Thanks for this tag, @ncstas!

three ships: DavidxPatrick from Schitt's Creek, FitzSimmons, SamBucky (no one said canon, right? hahahha)

last song: American Pie by Don McLean

last movie: Black Widow

currently watching: I am kind of in a moment in between fixations 🤔 but I am watching Loki as it airs.

currently reading: catching up on all the fics I couldn't read while I was studying these last months

currently craving: motivation to write :C

and for this one!

fav color(s): forest green!

currently reading: catching up on all the fics I couldn't read while I was studying these last months

last song: American Pie - Don McLean

last movie: Black Widow

last series: Loki?

sweet, sour or savoury: currently, savoury. Ask me in an hour, it'll have changed hahhaah

currently craving: just a crumb of motivation, I'm not asking for much

coffee or tea: BOTH, it depends on the occasion. During summer I need to chug coffee first because I usuallly wake up with a BP of 85/50 or something, and I need to up that shit quickly hahah

currently working on: Ch12&13 of Rare and I am more than noticing how rusty I am... it's been too long

***

I was tagged by the amazing @glitterandsummerdaze on this tag game, I'm so sorry for the delay!

open your spotify “on repeat” and the first five songs are the soundtrack to your personal rom-com

Renegade (feat. Taylor Swift) - Big Red Machine, Taylor Swift

Starting Line - Luke Hemmings

That Funny Feeling - Bo Burnham

gold rush - Taylor Swift

You Stupid Bitch - girl in red

That is... I can see that as a romcom soundtrack 😂

***

Okay next up, Maya @calumsash , I am so so sorry I haven't even acknowledge your tags... I have like 3 of yours piled up, I'm so sorry :S

How similar is my taste in music to yours:

For this tag, (reblog with the meaning/origin of my url and my favorite color) my url is pretty easy to explain hahahha I stole it from an All Time Low song 🤭 "i'm sick and tired of false devotion" and well, idk, I just liked it hahahahah I was setting up a new tumblr just for fics and here we are (I even fell back down the spn rabbit hole when I was only ever meant to post about bands XDDD). For the longest time I couldn't decide between blue and purple for my favourite colour and then I chose neither: it's green. Forest green hahahahah

For today's tag (I can't believe I'm actually answering to a tag game on the day I've been tagged O.o), which is this one, here are my answers:

1. Favourite song at the moment

I don't know if I'd call it favourite but, I haven't been able to stop singing American Pie since thursday night thanks to Black Widow 😅😅 It doesn't help that I've known all the lyrics to it since I was little thanks to my dad because I'm basically singing over and over a song that's 8 and a half minutes long hahahahah

2. A song you associate with your favourite ship

Is it too self-serving and lazy of me if I copy your answer and say Paper Rings Maya?😅 hahahaha No, for real, that song (even though parts of it don't align with cashton on athob) is forever tied to them for me 💙

3. A song that could be about you

This is me trying there are just more than a couple of lines that hit too close to home

4. A song you think is underrated

Outside of ATL or 5sos or Taylor I never go much into music fandoms so... I don't know how to answer. Any song I could say is underrated could very well be a fan favorite and I just don't know... 😅

5. A song that reminds you of a good memory

Sonrisa Especial by El Sueño de Morfeo reminds me of a period of my childhood were I wasn't sad all the time (which was rare in my childhood tbh), it's an obnoxiously happy and uplifting song that I can't relate to most days but when I do, it's quite special hahahha

6. The last song you listened to

... American Pie 😅😅😅

7. A song that makes you laugh

I Hate by Passenger, it never fails to make me laugh hahahah

8. A song you want your mutuals to listen to

ufff, anything by Kina Grannis I can't pick just one song, I can't

Thank you so so much for the tags Maya 🥺🥺🥺💙💙💙💙

[thecassadilla]

Change of Pace - Chapter 2

Pairing: Kristanna

Chapter 2 on AO3 

Chapter 1

Word Count: 3,332

Summary: With her sister’s blessing, Anna takes a step back from her royal duties and finds herself working for a ski resort nestled in the mountains. A chance encounter with the resort’s maintenance technician leads them down an unexpected path, as they must work together to plan the resort’s annual ball - and maybe fall in love in the process.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! Sorry to leave you all with a cliffhanger last week! This chapter picks up on the same day but from a different perspective ;). I’m thinking I’m gonna update on Tuesdays every week if that’s cool? Or should I try to update more often? Also, if you celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope you enjoy the holiday safely! Sorry for all the asterisked words - tumblr likes to censor and remove posts from tags if they have “bad” words in them, but the uncensored version is on AO3. Enjoy!!!

There were very fews words that Kristoff Bjorgman would use to describe his life; miserable, mundane, ordinary. From the minute he woke up in the morning until the minute he went to bed at night, he wished he were someone or somewhere else.

Nobody stayed in Valley of the Living Rock - often shortened to Valley - if they could help it. The main draw to the area was Valley Ski Resort, which was nestled in the mountains. For decades, the town flourished during the winter months, but suffered as warm weather drew near due to the resort’s influence. Most of the people who stayed in town year round lived above their means, as it was difficult to find and keep work when the money practically dried up in the summertime. That all changed when the resort began to expand - adding amenities such as a pool, archery, horseback riding, and a multitude of events that attracted people during the hottest months of the year.

After the resort expanded, the local government decided to put money into the town itself, enticing visitors to venture away from the resort during their visits and see what the town had to offer. Tourists began to appreciate Valley itself as a picturesque, quaint town they could visit during their stay at the resort, and money began to pour into the local economy. Deciding to take full advantage, the decision was made for the main street to be transformed to a “Winter Wonderland,” with the storefronts adorning themselves with string lights, wreaths, and pine garland in the colder months. Business boomed and as the years went on, more and more people came to visit.

For Kristoff, life in Valley was bleak. Abandoned at birth, it was difficult to navigate the foster system as a small, generally “unwanted” child. He was bounced around a lot in his early years before becoming one of the lucky few who managed to find a family willing and able to foster him until adulthood. But people talked, and in small towns like his, that gossip traveled fast. By the time he made it to high school, he had hardly any friends. The only good thing that had ever happened to him - aside from his family - was his ex-girlfriend, Joslyn. She moved to Valley in their senior year of high school, and was as much of an outcast as he was. They became fast friends and eventually started a relationship. She stuck around for a few years and attended the local community college while they dated, but like everyone else who had the opportunity, she eventually moved on. The breakup was amicable and he admittedly missed her from time to time, but also understood that where she was going was bigger and better than what Valley - and he - had to offer. 

As a junior in high school, he’d managed to snag a job at Valley Ski Resort as a janitor, and then after he graduated, he took courses in plumbing, electricity, and heating, ventilation, and air conditioning in order to be promoted to a maintenance technician. It was a year round job with sh*tty pay, but it put food on the table and he had to take whatever he could get. On the bright side, it was a step up from cleaning bathrooms and mopping floors. There was no escaping Valley, for a person like him.

He didn’t mind the work at all, but there were few words to describe how much he loathed the hotel. The people who visited were willing to spend a fortune on the amenities, but were generally unkempt behind closed doors. He could think of several occasions where he’d nearly slipped on a used c*ndom after being called to a guest room for maintenance, or how frequently the pipes would clog because people were determined to flush non-flushable items. 

But still, he went to work everyday, and waited to go home. He did what he had to do and he hated every second of it. The only advantage of working at the resort was the employee ski pass that came along with it. He frequently spent his weekends navigating the slopes and had worked his way up to expert-level. Coasting down the side of a mountain was freeing. For those few hours, he could put aside the monotonous life that he lived and could focus on what was right in front of him. 

On this particular day, he had a sinking feeling about heading into work. He just knew that something bad was going to happen - he could feel it in his chest. He debated calling out, but because he couldn’t afford to miss a day without pay, he had to go in, bad feeling or not. The feeling only got worse as he climbed out of his car and stared at the main building in front of him.

The interior of the resort was in desperate need of an upgrade; faded, worn-out gray carpet covered the floors of the lobby area, and old-school style wood paneling laced the walls. The guest rooms in the central building remained the least expensive as a result of this, and as part of the resort’s expansion process, dozens of stand-alone cabins were built on the property. Difficult to maintain, but guests were willing to pour money into spending a week in a luxury cabin with the same amenities as a hotel but with the added benefit of a home-y feel. 

He walked in through the employee entrance, which happened to be situated right next to the lobby area but was only accessible from the outside. Down a long stretch of hall and then to the left sat the maintenance office. One of the perks of the job was that he didn’t have to wear coveralls like he did when he was a janitor; just dark-colored jeans, a company-provided shirt with the hotel’s name stitched onto the front, and work boots. He dropped his jacket in his locker, grabbed one of the work cell phones so that the front desk could reach if he was needed for a repair or other issue, and walked into the main office, where his boss, Andrew, was scrolling through his email.

“Hey, man,” he said.

The other man glanced back for a second before returning to his work. “Hey, Kristoff.”

“What’s on the agenda today?”

“Nothing crazy,” Andrew responded. “A couple of rooms complained of low water pressure, so we’ll have to check that out. It’s probably calcium buildup that’s clogging the showerheads, or a clog, or something. But aside from that, it seems like it’s going to be a pretty normal day.”

He heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank god.”

He didn’t mind working with Andrew; he was quiet and kept to himself, which Kristoff appreciated. It was easier to work with someone who didn’t waste half the day with gossip or other nonsense. Having a job was about getting work done, after all.

Andrew had a list of the rooms that had been experiencing the low water pressure from the front desk complaints, so when he finished answering his emails, they set off to figure out what exactly was happening and why it was happening. “I bet another pipe froze again.”

“This hotel is so old, do they even realize that the pipes probably have to be replaced?”

“They know, they just won’t listen,” Andrew said, shaking his head. “This is going to be a losing battle for the rest of eternity.”

Just as they made it to the first floor of guest rooms, a call came over on Andrew’s work phone. They stopped in the middle of the hallway so he could pick it up. 

“Hello, this is Andrew from maintenance,” he answered, scrunching his face up in concentration. “They said the water smelled bad? Did they say if it was a weird color or anything?...okay, we’ll look into it. Thanks.”

“Another water complaint?” Kristoff asked, once Andrew had hung up the phone.

“Yeah, something weird is going on today.”

“Probably a frozen pipe, like you said.”

They knocked on the door of the first guest on their list, and a woman answered. “Are you the maintenance guys?”

“We are ma’am. The front desk told us that your water pressure is low, do you mind if we come in and take a look?”

The woman shook her head. “I didn’t say low water pressure. I said no water pressure - as in, there’s no water, at all.”

The two men exchanged a worried glance before Andrew spoke up again. “Do you mind if we have a look?”

The woman didn’t answer, but stepped out of the way so they could walk into the room. They went into the bathroom, and attempted to turn the faucets to no avail. 

The woman was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “Well?”

“We’re trying to figure out what’s going on, ma’am. We’re going to check in with a few more guests and the front desk will get back to you.” 

“I’m taking my family skiing, and all I have to say is that the water better be working when I get back or someone will be getting an earful from me. I did not spend all of this money to wind up in a room with no water!”

They nodded in an attempt to placate her and as soon as they made it back into the hallway, she slammed the door in their faces. 

“God, I hate this place,” Kristoff muttered.

“I don’t understand how people on vacation can be so f*cking miserable. Management will make sure they get a more expensive room on the house if there’s nothing we can do about it, so I don’t really see the point of throwing a fit.”

“I know. It’s kind of disgusting how entitled some of these people are. I understand the frustration, but don’t yell at the people who are trying to figure out what the problem is.” Kristoff shook his head. “Let’s go to the next one.”

The routine seemed to repeat itself; the rooms were occupied by extremely angry guests who were experiencing a myriad of plumbing issues - either little or no water pressure, foul smelling water, or rust-colored water.

“Something big is going on here. Bigger than just a frozen pipe,” Andrew deduced, after visiting several guests’ rooms and being called a few more times by the front desk. “I can’t figure out what it is though.”

“Do you think a pipe burst somewhere?” he suggested.

Andrew shrugged. “I can’t imagine where. There are guests in basically every area of this hotel and no one has called about a leaking ceiling. Unless it was something in the basement.”

“We should go check.”

The two men scrambled to the basement, but as cold and neglected as it was, there were no signs of water damage anywhere. Just a lot of dust and noise from the systems that were housed down there.

“I’m stumped,” Andrew admitted, throwing his hands in the air.

“It has to be somewhere in the building. None of the other buildings or lodges have complained about issues with their water, right?”

The other man skimmed the list in his hands. “Nope, just this one.”

“Are there any places that guests and employees normally wouldn’t go during the day? The lobby’s fine, the children’s center is fine...wait, what about the ballroom?” Kristoff snapped his fingers.

“Oh sh*t, we should check the ballroom,” Andrew agreed. “No one goes in there unless they’re having some kind of an event.”

“I bet that’s where we’re going to find our problem.”

They raced back up to the first floor and passed the front desk to the corner of the hotel that housed the ballroom. Andrew searched through his massive ring of keys before locating the one that unlocked the doors. 

“Holy f*ck,” Kristoff gasped, his eyes widening at the site in front of him. 

The entire room was destroyed. The ceilings had caved as a result of the massive amount of water that had pooled from the burst pipe. Nearly everything in the room had been destroyed from either the water damage or from the impact of the broken pieces of ceiling landing on it. The walls were moist, and there was a considerable amount of water remaining on the floor. 

“How the hell did no one hear this?!” Andrew bellowed.

“This...is bad,” Kristoff said, shaking his head. “This is thousands of dollars worth of damage.”

“I need to get Bonnie on the phone,” Andrew said suddenly, walking away from the scene.

Kristoff continued to stare in the meantime; the room was significantly damaged. First and foremost, the pipes would have to be replaced - immediately. They were already going to be spending a large amount of money for the repairs, and they definitely couldn’t afford to lose the income that guests would bring in by occupying the rooms in that building. They’d have to drain the water that pooled on the floor, rip out the carpet and gut the walls, throw away all of the destroyed tables and chairs. 

When Andrew came back a few minutes later, he was not happy. “Bonnie is on her way and she’s having a cow.”

“Can you blame her? This is a nightmare.”

“I need to see if I can get any of the other guys in today. They’re going to be p*ssed.”

“I’m here and I’m p*ssed,” Kristoff scoffed. “I knew I should’ve called out today.”

“Good thing you didn’t because I would’ve had to haul your a*s in anyway.”

“Yeah, right. Zach calls out once a week and no one ever does anything about it. The rest of us are forced to pick up his slack all the time - if I called out once, it wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Trust me, Zach isn’t going to be employed here for much longer.”

Bonnie finally arrived a moment later with a panicked look on her face and interrupted their conversation. “What the h*ll happened?”

“See for yourself, boss,” Andrew answered, motioning to the entrance to the ballroom.

Bonnie peered inside before staggering back and raising her hands to her face. “Oh my god.”

“The damage is severe, Bonnie. The repairs are going to be time-consuming, and you’ll have to postpone any events that they were planning on holding here,” Andrew spoke up. “Most importantly, the guests in this building have to be relocated until we can replace the pipes.”

Bonnie nodded, and for the first time that Kristoff had ever observed, she was totally speechless. In all his years of working around her, he’d never seen her so quiet.

“I’m working on getting my other guys in here,” Andrew continued. “This is not going to be an easy fix.”

“Alright,” she said, before pointing at Kristoff. “You go tell the front desk to start working on getting the guests out of this building and then come back here.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes once his back was turned; this was not his job. He wasn’t an errand boy. But because he wasn’t trying to lose his job, he begrudgingly followed her instructions. Once he arrived in the lobby, approached the first person he saw at the front desk, a brunette woman with thick black eyeliner who he recognized from high school.

“Hey, you need to -”

She raised a finger, but didn’t look in his direction. “Hold on, I’m helping my guest.”

“This is important.”

“Sir, you should get in line.”

He glanced over at the line - which was long, because it was checkout time, of course - before interrupting again. “I have orders from Bonnie -”

That seemed to catch her attention. “Let me get my manager out here.” 

“Thanks.”

A few moments later, the manager appeared from a door behind the front desk. “How can I help you?”

“I work in maintenance,” Kristoff explained. “Bonnie needed me to tell you that guests can’t stay in this building for a couple of days. A pipe burst and there won’t be any water in most, if not all, of the rooms.”

The manager's eyes widened. “O-okay. What about the restrooms on this floor? Or the restaurants and the bakery?”

“We’re not sure what the situation is with those areas of the hotel.”

She nodded. “Okay, well keep me posted. There are a lot of places on this floor that require the use of water.”

“Has anyone called to complain from any of those places?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, we’ll keep our fingers crossed that they’re unaffected, but I’m sure Bonnie will be in touch soon.”

“Thank you.”

He gave her a slight nod before turning around and walking back towards the ballroom; for the first time that day, someone had actually been appreciative and not downright condescending about the situation. He was just glad that she didn’t rip him a new one like all of the guests had earlier. 

“Good, you’re back,” Bonnie said once he finally made it back to the ballroom.

“Any updates?”

“I just made contact with the people in the event planning office,” Bonnie explained. “They’re coming down now. I need you to wait out here for them, so you could tell them about the damage. The annual ball is in three months and this was their venue.”

“I should probably start clearing stuff out of there,” he insisted, hoping to remind her that he was not her personal secretary or a professional bearer of bad news. “We can’t start gutting it out until the water is drained and all of the damaged furniture is removed.”

“You need to stay right here,” Bonnie said snidely, placing a hand on his shoulder before walking away.

“Is she serious?” he wondered aloud, his mouth agape. He really was her errand boy, wasn’t he?

“Hey man, Scott and Dan are both on their way in now,” Andrew said, approaching from inside the ballroom. “Liam and Eli are outside doing snow removal. I’m trying to get in touch with a couple of the other guys, but some of them have to be in for the overnight shift. Management has to take pictures of the damage for insurance reasons before we can touch anything, but we should be able to start getting rid of the furniture later today.”

“I have to wait here and break the bad news to the event planners,” he responded bitterly. “Because I’m not the maintenance guy today, I’m her errand boy.”

Andrew shook his head. “She’s really pushing her luck. She should be the one to tell them since we warned her that the pipes would need to be replaced a long time ago and she brushed it off.”

“You know, I had a gut feeling that today would suck. Wish that I could’ve been wrong.” 

“Should’ve checked the calendar, man. It’s Friday the thirteenth.”

He scoffed. “I’m not superstitious.”

Andrew shrugged before taking a few steps backwards. “I’m just saying.”

As soon as Andrew’s back was turned, he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. It was quite the coincidence that this had all gone down on a day historically known for the bad luck it brought. He reminded himself that he didn’t believe in that stuff; this was a real life situation that had only happened because of sheer negligence from Bonnie and the other people who ran the hotel. If they had just listened from the start and had replaced the pipes when Andrew recommended they should, they wouldn’t even be in this mess. He didn’t necessarily believe in curses either, but at this point, he was convinced he’d done something wrong in life that warranted this misery. 

Until he spotted a gorgeous redhead he didn’t recognize being dragged in his direction by the half-a-head shorter lady he knew from around the hotel, and he was suddenly aware of a new sensation different from the misery and dread he was used to - a hopeful fluttering in the pit of his stomach.  

[pinkykitten]

Imagine: telling Denki you have autism

Boku no Hero Academia Denki Kaminari x autistic! female reader

Requested: By anon I just saw you added BNHA to fandoms you’ll write for and!!!! I’m so excited!!! So could I request an imagine for how Denki would react to the reader telling him she’s autistic? Thanks a bunch!!!

Authors Note: god this is so fluffy you guys might get clogged arteries. 

You wanted to tell him on your terms. You hadn’t told a soul, only keeping that secret between you. You knew there were good people in this world but you were anxious to tell your friends in fear that they would make fun of you or shun you for having autism. But you had invited Denki to a public speech you were going to perform about your life having autism. You, though, had not told Denki what the talk or theme was about. 

“Are you nervous?” Denki asked, his lips pursed in thought as your legs bounced up and down. 

You were about to walk on stage and inform others about autism. Your hands were sweating as you looked petrified, silently eyeing the microphone. 

Denki saw the nerves and grabbed your hand. You turned around and looked in his eyes. “Denki...” you whispered. 

“You got this y/n. You are amazing.” He smiled. 

You nodded and came out from around the curtains when the president of organization announced your name. 

You brought your papers up and looked at the crowd. These people depended on you to give them the right information. Your heart pounded like a drum. Your throat was dry. You needed to calm yourself in order for this speech to succeed. So you looked back at Denki. He had on the biggest grin ever. He was very much proud of you. He gave you two thumbs up and cheered for you. You were now determined to make it through and give it your best. 

“Hello everyone, my name is y/n l/n and I have autism. Every person that has autism is different. We are not all the same.” You went on and on about your whole life story and how you became the strong and smart woman you were today. You told how life was for you and how people with autism can do the same things like any other person. They can have a successful life. You saw the faces of your audience and they seemed to have taken it all in. It was empowering to tell your story and have people listen. It made you feel strong and a great inspiration to maybe people there or young ones who are struggling with who they are. You looked back at Denki worriedly. What if he ran away? What if he thought you were weird? What if he got scared? Instead, you were greeted by a speechless Denki but not a bad speechless. It was a speechless that his face looked full of love and adoration. His eyes glimmered with love for you and he gave a tiny smile. He mouthed the words, “I love you.”

You wanted to run to Denki and kiss him right there and then. You giggled as tears fell down your cheeks, “I love you too.”

You finished up your talk and ran straight to Denki’s arms. “So what’d you think?”

“What did I think? I think you did incredible! You sounded so smart I was kinda jealous of you.” Denki pouted as you kissed his cheek. “You looked beautiful up there though. I wonder though, why did you not tell me you had autism earlier?”

You walked hand in hand as you looked up at the trees and heard the birds singing. “I wanted to tell you when I felt comfortable. I was afraid because I thought you would have these thoughts about me and be scared. I didn’t know how to go about it but I wish I would of told you sooner babe. I truly wish that. I’m sorry.”

Denki placed his hands on your cheek and kissed the tip of your nose. “Don’t ever be sorry. You had the right to tell me whenever you wanted to, this was about you. And to be honest this was a pretty bad a*s way to tell me, you were amazing up there. But I will never leave you. You are stuck with me. No matter what you do, no matter what you say I will always love you and nothing in this world will ever make me fall out of love with you. I am so proud of you y/n. I love you.”

You brought your lips to his and kissed him lightly. “I love you more.”

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[volturialice]

Spork Haven chapter 23: salt fucking peter

welcome to spork haven, where I spork the EL James fic you’ve never heard of

previous chapter | next chapter | contents

previously on Spork Haven:

actor!Edward got an outlandish fucking award and became Best Actor!Edward! hotel maid murder witness cello prodigy orphaned ““cajun”” heiress!Bella was his date to the awards show! Ed looked into Emmett’s dark burning eyes and had a Moment! Bella felt dizzy and then went missing! will the Volturi mafia succeed in murdering her? let’s hope so stick around and find out!

warning: this chapter is incredibly long. please check the tags for content warnings—there are a lot! it’s eventful, though, so we’ll give it a pass. but settle in and make yourself comfortable. maybe go get a drink or something. I know I needed a drink after I read this garbage.

chapter 23 opens with Edward attempting to process the fact that Bella has disappeared. he does this in what I have to admit is a pretty seamless fusion of el james’s and stephenie meyer’s trademark styles (negative space here preserved for authenticity):

wow. eat your heart out, New Moon.

once we’ve experienced that bit of totally original typesetting magic, Edward leaps into action! 

just kidding. he’s “totally fucking immobilized.” paralyzed with fear, he “stifles a sob” and toys with whether to “wail, scream, and tear his hair out with impotence”

luckily, he’s very good at giving himself pep talks:

this bracing self-administered kick in the pants unfreezes him, allowing him to summon the mental faculties to go get Emmett.

Emmett clears the ladies’ room and calls for backup. He and Edward search the restroom and are joined by a rando Local security guard as they discover—gasp!—a secret second exit to the bathroom (shoutout to the phoenix airport womens’ room, amirite?) leading into a service tunnel.

the Local security guard informs them that the tunnel leads to an alley, but the alley’s only exit is onto Hollywood Boulevard. you know, the street currently clogged with limos, paparazzi, cameras, and fans. idk about y’all but I’m starting to think this kidnap attempt may have been just a tad poorly conceived. why kidnap her at all? they had ample time to kill her, dump her body in the service tunnel, and make their escape unencumbered.

as Ed, Emmett, and Local race down the service tunnel, Emmett radios for Jasper to go around and cut the Bad Guys off in the alley. Edward is the slowest of the bunch

so he quickly falls behind the other two.

he’s trying to catch up when—wait! what’s that on the ground? something...sparkly?

that’s right: he pauses in chasing after Bella and her kidnapper in order to notice “six thousand dollars’ worth of earring” lying on the ground.

then he stops and picks it up.

now, I know what you’re thinking, guys—is he seriously stopping to pick up a lost earring when Bella’s life is in danger?—but keep in mind, these earrings were twelve thousand dollars. also, Edward loves earrings! they make him horny! what else is he supposed to suck on at Bella’s funeral?

I mean, yeah, if your worst fear was that Bella might lose an earring.

what indeed, Edward. what indeed. 

imagine for a second that you’re Emmett in this fic. you’re a law enforcement professional racing to protect your charge’s life, bellowing into your walkie for backup, preparing to apprehend an armed and dangerous suspect in an area full of innocent civilians...when suddenly, from somewhere far behind you in the dingy gloom of the service tunnel, you hear the sniveling, British-accented voice of the bitchass manchild celebrity who’s tagging along:

“I’vE fOuNd hEr eArRiNg!”

jesus.

still ahead of Eddie boy, Emmett and Local burst out into the alley, guns drawn. Edward hears gunfire and is terrified for Bella as he finally catches up and arrives at the scene.

this is about where erika’s writing gets...incredibly confusing. and not in a POV, “we’re in the character’s head experiencing the chaos with him in real time” way. more like in a “several dozen drunk blind amputees playing Twister” way. this is my cute way of saying “it’s bad” and “I had to read it four times before it began to make sense.”

in the alley, all is chaos. a gun has just gone off

I’m sorry. salt...peter? saltpeter? did someone shoot off a Ye Olde Civil War Musket? I know fuckall about firearms and even I know they phased that shit out in the fucking 1880s.

and while we’re here, fun trivia fact about saltpeter: in Olden Times, people would ingest saltpeter in order to nuke their sex drives. silly Olden Times! if it’s a bonerkiller you’re after, all you have to do is read this fic!

ok, back to the alley. security are cordoning it off, keeping the “fucking jackal” paparazzi at bay (already?)

the LAPD are arriving (already??) 

but perhaps most interestingly,

real quick before we get into whose body it is, why we’re sexually objectifying it, and what it’s oozing, I just wanna draw your attention to the construction of that sentence. the artistry, if you will. below, I have replaced some of the nouns so that we may all appreciate the sheer poetry of the syntax:

“there’s a fucking meatball lying prone on the floor, all covered with cheese, a dark cloud oozing under the meatball.”

sitting a few feet away from the Skirt & Heels Body™ is Jasper, cradling the unconscious Bella. you could be forgiven for thinking that first body (you know, the oozing one) was Bella’s, because that’s what the narration wants you to think. the effect is somehow both enhanced and ruined by the fact that Bella’s actual body is mentioned in the next sentence. erika really tried to have her suspense cake and eat it too, with the result that by the time I finished reading this paragraph, I had absolutely no idea how many bodies there were or who they belonged to, which ones had on a skirt and heels, which ones were oozing, and where.

another excerpt I should probably share is the paragraph where we describe Edward reacting to this tragic pietà.

here’s our text, raw and unedited:

I can’t even begin to list all the ways this paragraph makes me uncomfortable, so I won’t attempt to.

anyway. remember how in the last chapter, there was an incredibly gay bit where Edward looked into Emmett’s dark, burning eyes? fasten your seatbelts because we’re about to blow that bit out of the water.

ｌｕｍｉｎｏｕｓ ｈａｚｅｌ ｅｙｅｓ

filled with

𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒

the next sentence tries to take us back into heterosexual territory with

are we meant to understand that Jasper’s luminous hazel eyes are saying “don’t you just wish it was you getting to cradle Bella’s unconscious, injured body?” yes, that is exactly what we’re meant to understand. this attitude continues as Bella is loaded into an ambulance. at first, Jasper tries to stop Edward from coming, then the paramedic says they can both come but only if they sit on opposite sides of the ambulance like kindergarteners in Time Out.

l o n g i n g l y

the paramedics also checked the other body (you know, the oozing skirt and heels body) and Edward made a startling observation:

though oozing, the mystery person is still alive, and a second ambulance hauls off

and here I was thinking all this story needed to make it complete was some veiled transphobia! what a fun new direction for erika.

once at the hospital, Ed is banished to the waiting room with Emmett, Jasper, and Taylor. the doctors won’t let him see Bella, even when he tells them he’s her fiancé.

hmm. is it just me or is there a movie about this exact scenario?

yep, there are at least two movies about this exact scenario.

after the “fiancé” thing, Edward picks up on some bad vibes from Jasper

interesting. can you feel MY animosity hit you like a brick fucking wall? I guess it’s more of a brick fucking skyscraper at this point.

things we learn at the hospital:

Bella was roofied! so if you voted “poisoned” in the poll, I’m gonna give you this one. congrats on your victory.

Bella is fine now

Jasper shot the mysterious kidnapper in the chest. 

that’s right, Jasper is the cause of all the oozing. well done, Jasper. good luminous hazel eye.

finally, Bella wakes up and asks to see Edward. He goes back to see her 

and

she

dumps his ass.

not for any Sane People reasons, of course. having decided she’s “too dangerous to be around,” she breaks up with him in a scene straight out of New Moon, complete with “eyes full of tortured pain” and dialogue like

“You are too precious to me. Please. Go.”

Edward spends the whole scene in panicked denial, to the point where he’s practically gaslighting Bella, telling her she’s just been through a traumatic ordeal and she can’t possibly mean what she’s saying. 

then he interrupts her mid-breakup 

to fucking propose.

🤣🤣🤣 READ THE ROOM, BUDDY. Bella is resolute for the first time in her doormat life, turns down the proposal, and firmly breaks things off with Edward. he returns her earring (you remember, the six thousand dollar earring we paused in the middle of the climactic chase scene to pick up), “inhales her fragrant hair for the last time,” and leaves.

and with that, the chapter is FINALLY over.

possibility.mp3

best “fucks”

“level fucking head”

“a fucking microsecond”

“fucking sirens”

“loud fucking noises”

“enough fucking damage”

“a soothing fucking balm”

“fucking Hale”

“fucking purgatory” (the hospital waiting room)

“pale as fuck” (bella)

“fucking lifeless” (bella)

“non-believing fucking arse” (edward)

“like a fucking idiot” (edward)

best “shits”

next chapter: fucking blinds and curtains

[watchoutforthefanfics]

Your Heart Thine Destined To Be // Part Two

Previous Parts: I, II

Tags: @enragedbees @dante1138 @arc-gx @logan-sanders-enthusiast  @nic-is-here

TW: light swearing, and light dirty jokes (Remus).

||//<oo>\\||

Hours were quick to pass as he stayed tucked up in his room, he'd found himself falling into so many different projects that'd he'd almost drowned in the creative input.

It started off with a painting, and then a story, and then a song, and then a bird was singing to him, and then he was singing a song back because that was the right thing to do-

It all ended up exactly where it started, staring out his window with thoughts clogging his brain and the wind scattering across his face at just the right times to wake him up from the daydream.

The sky was still blue, but it was sunny now, and it was perched to rain down sunshine on the roofs that needed it.

He found his mind getting lost into it once more, the birds chirping harmoniously to lure him into the dreams of the day. Like the rush of a waterfall, and skipping through a meadow with arms full of-

"SHIT!"

Roman jumped, holding onto his windowsill as much as physically possible, just to ensure he didn't jump out of the window.

"What even was tha-" Roman looked just across the way, to a separate window that was on Remus's wall, and... he was hanging out of the WINDOW.

Roman's eyes widened, "REMUS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

Remus squinted, in his direction, holding tightly to the bedsheets that hung out of his window, "Roman? Oh, what a coincidence seeing you here, brother!"

Roman's heart was racing, as Remus seemed to casually adjust his whole body on the frail tangle of bedsheets, "You, YOU ARE IDIOTIC. What... What's it even for?"

Remus shrugged, making his whole body move slightly along the sheets and Roman gripped his windowsill even tighter, "I've got to go get some di-"

"NO!" Roman screamed, "I'm not listening! You're not even going to reach the ground, yOU- Look... How long is that?"

"That's-" Remus grinned devilishly, "-what she said!"

Roman glared at him, "Seriously? Are you just-"

"CAN'T HEAR YOU-" Remus screamed, sliding on down the sheets, with a speed, he was sure that he'd be hurt by the end of the journey.

Roman paused, hesitating to yell anymore as he saw his brother disappear down the side of tower. Should he tell someone?

He pursed his lips, pondering the idea of saying anything after... the 3 hours he had left. Groaning, he spun and threw himself onto the bed with a 'hmph'.

He'd practically done everything in his mind to erase boredom, well... Except for study.

Roman sighed, making no movement to even move, as his mind buzzed with what he should be doing. Fencing practice, speech class homework, that essay he'd needed on why townspeople were such an important part of a monarchy...

His workload had been multiplied, after the speculation of the his father stepping down. Although his father wasn't, the idea had made many citizens question if the adventurous Prince Roman was even ready for the crown.

The ruckus had stirred something in himself as well, something he hadn't even talked to his parents yet. Well, not in depth, his parents knew his struggles with wanting to explore, but they didn't... really know how bad it was beginning to affect him.

Roman squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to flush the thoughts down the drain. Thinking about it, just made it so much worse. So, he closed his eyes and willed it to flee, like the birds at the dawn of win-

"Roman?" a gentle voice drifted through the wood of his door, and a tentative knock signalled to open it.

Roman exhaled through his nose, pulling himself up and brushing out the mess of his hair, "Yes, mother?"

The door was opened, revealing his already dressed mother; he admired her selection of color, and goodness, her crown was a separate deal, truly.

It twinkled in the right light, and Roman had wished desperately for one as bright as hers. It was eventually worked out, (his crown was a beautiful gold, with twinkling red gems scattered around it's base).

"Hello, honey-" his mother dusted off his dresser, and straightened his sheets, "-I wanted to talk to you about breakfast, if you didn't mind."

"Oh, Mama," Roman spun on his heel, gently holding his mother's hands, "-I'm incredibly sorry for my behavior, I know it wasn't very kind to you, or Patt for that matter."

"I appreciate that, Roman," his mother smiled, but continued, "-however, that's... that's not why I'm up here."

"Oh?" Roman raised a brow, trying to track what all he'd done today that could've raised suspicion.

"As you know," she began, letting go of his hands, and waltzing to a separate section of his room, "-the press is running with the thought of your father stepping down from the crown. You also know you're next to the crown in that reign-"

"Has there been a change or something, mother?"

"No, no-" her hand raised, swiping his questions away, "-it's just. Call it mother's intuition, but part of me believes that you're having second thoughts, mi principito. And I know your father can be very... hardheaded about your practices, so... I wished to speak with you alone, is that alright?"

"I," Roman faltered, his mind not really wanting to admit any truth to her words, "-I suppose so, Mama."

"Okay," his mother sat on the edge of his bed, her slim hands tapping the spot just beside her, "-let's sit, no?"

Roman nodded, taking his place beside her, "Where do we begin?"

His mother tilted her head, her eyes flickering, "Just start with answering my question, and then... I have news for you, after."

"Oh, I see-" Roman hummed, "-well. It's tough to say, but... I've been having a difficult time, yes. I, um, don't feel quite... worthy? Yes, worthy for the duty. I'm so sporadic and adventurous, I'm... I'm meant to be a Prince, mother, not... not a King."

His mother nodded, in the silence of the room, other than the quiet hum of birds just outside the window. He cringed at the absence, and the delivery really, so he added just a smidge more.

"Not... not yet, at least."

"I understand, Roman," his mother paused, and held his cheek -wiping away tears that he hadn't know had fallen-, "-you are a wonderful prince, and will be a wonderful King one day. If you're not ready, I've... we've got a solution. Just to ensure the readiness of the kingdom, because I'm sure you understand, this isn't just your own personal issue... One day, the kingdom will be affected by this just as much as you. Would you like to hear it?"

"I-"

"Roman," his mother sighed, disappointed, "-if you can't... rule. We have to take the steps that are best for the kingdom... no matter what."

"I understand," Roman exhaled, his breathing steadier, "-what's the solution? I can hear it."

"Are you-" his mother paused, "-are you sure?"

"Of course," Roman smiled at her, "-I'm a big boy, mother."

She smiled, lightly -as if something else was bothering her-, and looked to the window. Almost as a way of... avoiding the conversation.

His mother began, her voice tired and desperate, "There's a prince, a few kingdoms over, Cerebro I believe. The majesties there were practically desperate to send him over... He's very smart, and truly ready for the part, just based on his academics alone. We think-"

Roman stood, tearing his hands out of his mother's, "What is this about?"

"Honey-" his mother spoke, trying to steady her voice, "-if you're not ready, we need to make sure-"

"So-" Roman laughed, holding back his tears from his burning eyes, "-you're just going to marry me off? You don't think I deserve to find love?"

"Of course, you do!" his mother threw up her hands, "-it's just... complicated, Roman. You're a prince, you have to think of the people too. Sometimes... you have to sacrifice things, and I wish you didn't have to, sweetie. But, we tried the other wa-"

"The other way, I know," Roman muttered, throwing his hands into his hair, "-I... I thought I could do it. I thought you guys believed in me, but... apparently, you don't."

"We do, Roman-" the queen took his hands gently out of his hair, with a soothing hum, "-we're your parents, we'd never put you low in our minds. But, the only thing that overrides that is the person who knows you best doing that... and you do, Roman. You don't think you can do it."

Roman paused, tears aching to come out but he held them in, as silence swallowed his words. He could feel his heart crush in the air, it was restricted, it's air wasn't clean and it had no space in his chest.

"If you... If you don't think you can do it, mi principito, whose to say you even can?"

|| ◇◇◇ ||

"Logan?" the low voice squeaked through the library, moving through the empty aisles and navigating to brush his ear.

He adjusted his glasses, to see the figure clearer in the dim light of the candle, his father. He stood with authority, and pride echoed through the silence, just a breath.

"You need to get ready," his father spoke, clear and no need of travel, "-you've been requested."

Logan shifted, placing his bookmark where he left off, "I see."

The King spoke, hardly looking at his son, "It's a prince... in the Kingdom of Corazón. They were kind enough to offer a prince. They'll have you over, and you'll be evaluated on whether or not you are an acceptable match. If not, you return."

Logan blinked, speaking quietly, "I understand, father."

"This is your chance, my son, don't... don't ruin it. Our kingdom is resting on your shoulders, Logan. You're all we've got left."

His eyes slipping to the window, where his kingdom laid -desolate and overgrown. His Kingdom was in disaster, low food, workforce, citizens, and faith in the monarchy. This was all they had left.

He straightened his back, closing the book with a confident thud, "When do I leave?"

[blueprint-han]

but you do realize that smut with fluff is also still fluff rite? combination of genres exist. if there's a keep readimf tab and apprppriare warnings it is fine. if its smut with fluff i still tuinl they shpuld also tag the fluff part.

Like I said, smut is smut. Look, the thing here is less about the warnings and more about the fact here that smut writers easily get more recognition as compared to a purely sfw writer. (Not mocking them once again, it's just a simple fact). So why do they feel the need to use the fluff tags? Explicit content is still explicit content, no matter what kind. Angsty smut is still smut, fluffy smut is still smut, a series that has smut in the later chapters is still smut.

I do not understand why people don't read the full thing before commenting. 😐 No Seriously, I'm not hating on you but what you're saying just shows you haven't read the whole thing. My point was this: you are ripping purely sfw writers of the tiniest amount of recognition they get in their tags. See, most of the smut fics get almost a 100 notes in one day. Sfw fics? 23, and much less. Again, I'm not mocking smut, the content for the fandom is definitely appreciated, it is definitely a form of fanfiction, and it definitely needs as much validation as sfw fics.

And no, it's not fucking fine. Stop justifying their actions, let me remind you, PEOPLE DON'T SEARCH FOR FICS IN THE FLUFF TAGS FOR SMUT. WE AVOID THE SMUT TAGS BECAUSE WE FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE WITH MATURE CONTENT? Why do we have to justify ourselves so much just for smut authors and fluff authors to keep their respective content in the tags and not mingle them together? ANY SMUT IS SMUT. ANY SORT OF IT IS STILL SMUT. when I did the same thing with smut tags, you guys told me I was clogging up the tags. SAME GOES FOR HERE. you are clogging up the tags and robbing purely sfw writers of the tiniest recognition they wish to gain.

I totally respect your opinion anon, but as I said: whatever u just told me was already answered in the main post , just read completely and understand it before asking about this.

And what you say is totally not justifiable foe the new trend of thirst asks being tagged into the general tags, just a note. There's no keep reading there, you're exposing minors and people who are traumatised by shoving it into their faces.

Sorry, but I stand by my word. Keep the smut in smut tags. Keep the fluff in fluff tags. Keep your thirst asks in your blog or only in the smut tags. Please, sfw authors already have such a hard time rising to even a small follower base here, (again not mocking smut authors for this) just use the apt tags. Please.