#* he's crying your honour | sappy tag.

[sinsoakedsaints]

@ @ @ @ @ @ @ @

For every @ I get, I have to tag someone I love/look up to!

mute me fellas i love any opportunity to scream ab my friends DBVSHJ

@prxcticalmxgic mah bestieee!! who i’ve known for like idk, 7 years or something, ever since i infiltrated her rpg like a skrull and have yet to be purged JDHGFGH i love that we’re close enough to rant and rave ab everything under the sun while also having 8321 ships (give or take the 100 or so in the cursed pile). 

@ofrvnaways my other bestie!! who i’ve known since dinosaurs roamed the earth JDHGSHJ genuinely one of the all round soundest people i’ve ever known, who’s masterful at crafting layered characters and always has ideas for days. i could talk for days ab how much i love u but u don’t deserve that while you’re swanning around nyc, fucker. 

@heartrendcrs WE HAVE LITERALLY BEEN THRU HELL… LIKE 3 TIMES JHDGSHJ navigating demonic rpgs seems to be our lot in life, i’m glad we’re never doing to the under belly of satan’s arsehole again. i’m also super lucky to know someone who can understand things ab me that i’m still tryna understand myself. we messy but we growing!! rhyming names for life. 

@worldcarried the legend the myth the queen!! u are one the brightest lights in my life and on my dash genuinely u have such a big heart but u also take no shit and that’s a hard balance to maintain. all of ur characters are also so fucking interesting i wanna know everything ab them. obsessed. 

@saevos idk where tf to tag u miss whac-a-mole always with 87 accounts springing up out of nowhere SJHGDHJ i feel like i’ve known u for 10 years and i’m still shocked and upset every time i remember kegan aren’t canon?? i love how staunch u are in things u believe in u never waiver it’s v admirable. you’re also one of the best writer’s i’ve ever had the pleasure of writing. quit ur job so we can talk more again. JDHGSHJ ps remember when u softblocked me on twitter? i do. 

@floralege my fave person i met in an environment i regret!! i can’t believe we been floating around the rpc abyss this long and only crossed paths a few months ago. we may buttheads at times bc we’re both whackjobs but i love u and the fact that bc of u i now speak unhhhh as a second language. i just like u!!

@anatcmies i can’t believe we’ve only known one another such a short amount of time and yet u put up with my nonsense JHDGSHJ it’s no secret that i love every single character that ever appears on ur blogue and our steady growing army of dumbass ships fuel me, combined with our daily cult like yelling ab lady gaga or lily james JDHGSGHJ 

@darlingstm omg we literally started talking like a day ago but its a scream as if we’ve been through 10 wars together SJDHGH truly the carol danvers to my tony stark, i can’t wait to write with u and to have a shoulder to share the weight of carrying brie larson’s happiness in our hands!!! 

[dizzydancingdreamer]

The Friday Night Fight | Reggie Mantle

Hey Lovelies, here’s the first fic I’m moving from my Wattpad! I went through an entire Reggie Mantle phase and this is one of my favourite imagines! I hope you all enjoy!

Description: Y/n and Reggie are best friends and they get into a fight after she falls asleep and forgets they have plans.

Pairing: Reggie Mantle x Not-Quite-Platonic!Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst (not really)

Word count: 1.7k

Tags: angst, FLUFF, just overall an easy read

(not my gif! Also hello I want to do this)

You and Reggie have been best friends since you were born, always next to one another whether that be when causing trouble in Riverdale or taking the accompanying punishment. Partners in crime, that's what the two of you are. It really is the strongest kind of bond. They say there's no honour among thieves but you think it's the exact opposite. There is way more honour among trouble makers than rule followers.

Well, there’s more honour when both trouble makers remember to tell each other when they cancel plans, that is.

So you've been a little busy these days, big deal, right? Pop's has you working overtime for the upcoming town jubilee and your parents are on your heels to keep you grades maintained. You're an excellent student for someone who goes mailbox smashing on occasion! That mixed with the constant hounding from your other friends to loosen up and to hang out with them more almost always leaves you swamped.

All in all, you were tired and honestly forgot to tell Reggie that you wouldn't be able to join him at the drive-in tonight. It’s not that you didn’t want to go, you just fell asleep as soon as your head had hit your pillow, your phone discarded on your dresser. Now look where that landed you.

                                         *     *     *     *     *

"Dude, where are you? I've been waiting for you for like an hour and a half!" 

This is the first thing you hear when you stumble to your phone and pick it up. You aren't even fully awake and someone's already yelling at you.

"What?" Is your only audible response, besides a few swear words that tumble from your tired lips.

You hear an angry sigh from the other end of the phone, "Y/n, we were supposed to go to the drive-in tonight, remember? It's me, Reggie. You know, your best friend? We've been planning this for months, it was the James Bond marathon! I can't believe you forgot. You always do this!"

Now it's your turn to get angry. Where the hell did all of that come from, you always bailing on him? As if! He's the one who's never around because of football! You never complain when he hangs with the guys after promising to go to Pop's or Sweetwater River with you. Where does he come off thinking he's entitled to your time but you aren't entitled to his?

"What the hell, Mantle? As if you never fucking leave me hanging! At least I have a good reason unlike you. 'Sorry, Archie wants to play video games' yeah whatever! So yeah, best friend, I forgot. At least I didn't fucking cancel on you for nothing!" 

You'll regret these words eventually but, thankfully, that time is not now. However, the angry tears pooling in your eyes tell you other wise. You can't believe he would accuse you of ditching him, you've never ditched Reggie! You've been attached at the hip since birth and then later, when he grew taller than you, attached at the hip and stomach.

"So, Reggie, I should go seeing as you obviously don't want to see me because I bail on all our plans." You spit the words into the phone, dragging a hand through your hair and tugging hard.

"Wait, y/n, I didn't mean-"

"Bye."

With that you collapse back onto your bed and quite plainly just cry. Your best friend, the boy you've spent your entire life with and then some, has officially crossed a line. He doesn't do that often. In fact, before this moment, he hasn't done it at all. The two of you rarely fight and when you do it's about nothing. You could almost scream right now!

Tears stream down your face, reddening your nose and staining your cheeks. You miss him, that's the problem with having a best friend whom sneaks into your room every night. You probably won't be able to fall asleep without Reggie's body next to yours. You don't feel weak for missing him minutes after a bad phone call, you crossed that bridge when you got the flu the entire summer and he didn't leave your side once.

You hear a rumble outside your window and roll over, trying to get a better look from your bed. Headlights shine through the glass, bathing your bedroom in an eerie glow. You hear a vehicle door slam and the lights die, leaving you in darkness to watch a sturdy, shadowy figure make its way towards you. You don't need to look at said figure for more than two seconds before you make out Reggie storming towards your window.

Now, you could say that this is all unexpected. That you had absolutely no idea that Reggie would come over in a heated fury. But that would be lying. Reggie and you have never been the type of people to sit on raw emotion and not do anything about it. If you have a problem, you deal with it. You knew as soon as you had hung up that it would only be a matter of time before you saw him. You're just surprised he only took half an hour.

You hear a tap on the glass, "Y/n, let me in."

He wears a leather jacket, the one you got him for his birthday last year. From a distance it looks black but, when you look closer, it's actually a midnight blue. It's fitting now, to wear such a manipulative piece of clothing in the dead of night.

"Why should I, asshole?"

You play with the worn bracelet on your arm; the friendship bracelet he made you five years ago. It's sun faded, your favourite colours having been dulled from years of running all over Riverdale with him. You would bet all the money in your wallet that Reggie has his on right now too. On his left hand, yours on the right, so that when you hold hands the bracelets touch.

"Because we have to talk, sleeping beauty," he puts his left hand against the glass, the equally faded blue and yellow strings peeking out from his cuff. 

You kind of wish you had bet on it now, you would have twenty extra dollars right now.

You grumble at his logic and slide the window open for him to step in through, turning on your bedside lamp to lighten the room up. When you turn back to him you stare at his chest instead of his chocolate eyes. You're not ready for that yet.

"Well talk then, Reg."

"I'm sorry, okay," he reaches a calloused hand out to tilt your head, "I'm sorry for being jerky. I know you don't bail on me dude, I was just jealous. I thought you bailed on me for Archie."

Archie? As in Archie Andrews? You can't stand the red head, especially since he's become the renowned guitar-hero of Riverdale! As if he wasn't bad enough before as the next Jason Blossom, now he carries a song book wherever he goes and sometimes even asks you to listen to one of them. No, Archibald Andrews, you don't want to listen to your newest sappy song. Besides, he isn't exactly a commendable comrade after the whole Betty and Veronica incident.

You sigh quietly, "Reggie, I very strongly dislike Archie. You know that. What's really wrong?"

You finally peer up into his eyes, staring straight into bloodshot pools of regret. Fuck.

"Oh, Reg, what's the matter? If this is because of me yelling at you, you know I can never stay mad at you," you throw your arms around his shoulders which, for the record, isn't easy and he scoops you into him. 

You've always hugged like this, it's comfortable and personal. You wrap your legs around his waist, leaning your head on his shoulder and playing with his hair. Warmth spreads through with ease and you close your eyes.

He started picking you up like this when he was eleven. Other kids were teasing him, calling him weak or something. You can’t quite remember. You knew it was a lie, though, so you told him to pick you up. It was odd timing, especially in the middle of science class, but he did it nonetheless. The two of you played it off like you needed reach something on a tall shelf but Reggie didn't even question you when you asked so it worked out pretty well. As a bonus the other kids in the class were jealous that Reggie Mantle was picking you up.

"Yeah, well, same, but that's not it. I guess I'm just worried that you're gonna find a new me and then I'll just be here and you'll be with the new me. You do realise that I would probably die without you, right?"

You giggle, the events from earlier slowly fading away because of the truth to his statement. Without you he would have gotten in too many accidents to count. That includes that one time in seventh grade when you talked him out of going down the twisty slide on a lunch tray. You had probably spared him a broken leg.

"Yeah but you've saved me from some pretty stupid things as well so don't mention it," namely the tree house incident, the Sweetwater River incident, and that day at Pop's where you almost choked from stuffing too many French fries in your mouth. 

Thank god Reggie's mother made him take CPR courses.

"Still, I'm sorry Y/n."

You squeeze your arms tighter around his football sculpted shoulders, "I forgive you, Reginald."

And with that, the two of you are back to normal. He scoffs and sets you back on your feet, pushing you jokingly and falling onto your bed. You’re heart stutters for just a second as you watch him examine a stuffed bear on your bed. You shake your head quickly. 

"Say, Reg," an idea pops into you head as fast as lightning, "I bet all the money in my wallet Jughead will replay the Bond movies for us!"

[keoghans]

Hey Chuck - Epilogue

Hey there, here comes the epilogue for my long ass Chuck Grant fic. Hope y’all enjoy. Feedback is greatly appreciated.

Also, more fics related to this one with Chuck and the BoB guys are coming. I’m already working on more! :)))))

Tag list: @rinadoesstuff (if anyone wants to be added, shoot a quick message or respond to his post and I’ll add u).

Warnings: just pure fluff, short fluff. 

“So, I need to ask for another favor, Dick…” Hannah said, smirking at her former Battalion Commander, who enjoyed a drink under the shadow of an oak tree he had planted in his backyard.

Chuck appeared behind her, with two drinks in hand, handing one to her. His hand found the small of her back, his touch never failing to send a shiver up her skin. 

“What is it?” he asked, playfully sounding annoyed. 

“You know my father passed away a while ago, and… he always said how bad he wanted to walk me down the aisle, you know… when I get married,” she started, a painful pang inside her chest at the memory of the day her father suffered a massive stroke and didn’t even make it to the hospital, “and now, well… if you would like, it’d be my honour if you could walk me down on my wedding day”. 

Richard first smirked, looking between Chuck and Hannah, and let out a hearty chuckle before responding, “yes, yes, of course! It’d be my honour to do that, Hannah! When’s the big event?” he replied, his eyes and possibly, his freckles, illuminating at her words. 

“September 3rd, three months from now,” Chuck replied, his hand finding Hannah’s quickly. 

“Great, date saved! I’ll be there and I’ll walk you down to this man, Hannah,” Dick added before clinking their glasses to cheer for the couple he had helped reunite.

//

The day arrived with a mountain of nerves.

“This is why I wanted a simple, small wedding, to wear this simple dress and to be able to dance and drink without a single problem,” Hannah exclaimed as she put her wedding gown on. It was a very plain white off shoulders dress, long sleeved, with buttons running down the center and a slit, uncovering one of her legs. Her feet had small, white heels, with a bit of platform so they would be more comfortable. 

 “You look so beautiful, my friend,” Angelina said, looking at her longtime friend. 

“Thank you for pushing my ass out of the house that day, Ang, or I wouldn’t be there today,” Hannah replied, hugging her tightly.

“One way or another, you would’ve found each other. Remember he did the same shit to find you, woman!”

Both laughed, remembering the day, before a knock on the door interrupted.

“Hannah? Can I come in?” Winters’ deep voice could be heard from the other side.

“Yeah, come in!” 

He appeared through the door in his old, Airborne suit, adorned with some of the medals he had earned. His hair was neatly combed to the side, as usual. 

His smile widened when he saw Hannah all dressed up. “You look gorgeous, Hannah. Truly. I’m so happy for you,” he said, holding her hands warmly.

“Stop, I can’t cry before I see my future husband, for heaven’s sake, Dick!” Hannah replied, shaking her face to avoid the tears that threatened to fall. 

Richard laughed, then cleared his throat before putting his arm out to her. “Ready?” He asked. 

Hannah took one last look at herself: she was about to marry Chuck Grant. Her former NCO, the man who commanded her platoon throughout D-Day plus 434 days. 

The blue eyed, permanently tanned skin, now veteran, who stole her heart throughout their fight. The knot in her stomach untied as she thought of him, and crossed her arm around Richards before walking away. 

//

Chuck stood at the end of the aisle, with some of the men from Easy Company and his brother, waiting for Hannah to arrive, while a small band played near them. 

The wedding had been agreed to be outside, at the field where Chuck proposed to her after dating her for a year and a half. There were wooden seats with flowers adorning each one, petals thrown down the walk to the aisle, who danced to the fresh breeze that announced Autumn closing in the year. 

“Here she comes,” Lipton said, looking at the end of the aisle. Carwood was in charge of officiating the wedding. Since neither Chuck nor Hannah were religious, they didn’t want a bishop or anything, but wanted still a traditional wedding. And who better to officiate than a composed, warm and loyal man than Carwood Lipton. 

Chuck’s throat almost closed at the sight of his bride on the arm of Richard. Her hair had grown considerably, cascading down her shoulders, as she held down on a small bouquet of Peonies. 

He had promised not to cry before saying their vows, but he had waited so long for that moment, he couldn’t avoid the tears that fell down his cheeks as he looked at Hannah walk down towards him. 

As soon as Richard gave her away, he looked at Hannah, holding her hands, and whispered, “good lord, you look s—so wonderful”. Hannah smiled, trying to hold her tears in. 

“You too, Chucks,” she replied, admiring his black suit, with his World War II Victory medal and his Parachutist Badge, earned the day they became paratroopers officially. Hannah thought of wearing them, but had a better idea to put the Paratrooper wings in a necklace, to let it dangle nicely on her chest.

“Good afternoon, everyone. We’re today here, gathered, to celebrate the union of two very honorable persons, who I admire deeply, and hold very close to my heart. Charles Grant, and Hannah Davis,” Lip started, looking between the couple. 

“Now, I think we would like to hear the vows, the words that represent what this relationship means to you, and the compromise it represents. Who wants to start?” Lip asked. 

Chuck lifted his hand first, taking a small paper from his right pocket, while Lip nodded at him in response.

“We agreed to keep it short, and I tried, so… here goes,” Chuck started, making a few invites chuckle at his words, “Hannah, today I’m marrying you. Today, I take you to be my wife, for as long as we can be together, which hopefully, is a lot. You know I’m not a sappy man, I’m usual short for words, but you know the important stuff already. Well, we knew them back in the middle of the battlefield.”

“I knew I admired you the day Shifty introduced us. I knew I liked you when you whooped Buck and Luz in darts. I knew I started having feelings for you when I got worried sick the moment you got shot and lost your ear. I knew I was getting deep into you when we held hands, sleeping in Haguenau. And I realized I love you when you sang that one song in the piano we found at the Eagle’s Nest”.

“I love you, with every single bit of my being, and I pr—pr—promise I will be there, always, Hannah, my love” Chuck finalized, and many sniffs and low sobs could be heard around the crowd. Hannah was tearing up as she tried to grasp the paper she had written her vows on. 

But then, she crumpled the paper up and threw it away, “I fucking love you, Charles Grant. I held all these feelings for so long, I never knew what to do, because I was sure you didn’t reciprocate. Hell, when I looked for you, it was mostly because I had to tell you, even if you didn’t feel the same way for me, I just—I had to tell you; I love you, my heart swells every time you look at me, every time you say my name, every time you want to show me something that excites you. I want to spend every minute with you, hold your hand, kiss you. Hell, I even want to go through our PTSD together,” she said, making everyone laugh, “I promise to be there, like you said, through everything, always”.

“Do you, Charles Grant, take Hannah Davis, as your beloved wife?” Lip asked, not waiting another second to close the deal. 

“I do,” responded Chuck through the tears.

“Do you, Hannah Davis, take Charles Grant as your beloved husb–,”

“Yes, yes, I do, I fucking do!” Hannah almost yelled, not being able to contain herself anymore.

“Then I declare you husband and wife, you may now kiss that bride of yours!” 

Another bruising, deep kiss was shared between the newly weds as people cheered on, throwing rice and confetti at them. 

Both Hannah and Chuck knew they were already bonded for life, this was just a formal confirmation before their loved ones, but of course, neither wanted to miss celebrating with their friends, the whole of Easy Company, except for a few. 

When they parted, looking between the crowd, Hannah looked at Chuck before both yelled:

CURRAHEE!

[dafheannaig13-blog]

About the Muse

 i snatched it off @heraldofwho who is very cool! 😃

Your muse’s name:

Maxwell Seumas Trevelyan, but he prefers Max

A favourite picture / faceclaim of your muse:

*casually drops a cropped version of an older drawing bc i have nothing better at the moment*

Two headcanons you have for your muse:

-Max absolutely despises templars and would happily slaughter the lot of them rrgh fuCKING CULLEN, because he has Issues.  The most he ever killed by himself in one go? Fourteen templars in the Ostwick circle, after he found out what they did to his sister.  The pent-up rage and despair and feelings of helplessness of the twenty-one years leading up to that point caused him to snap.  Max went into a berserker-like state and slew fourteen templars, including the knight-captain, and nearly the first enchanter as well.  After that, he began training as a proper reaver, because he knew that he needed to learn to control and direct his emotions, or else they'd overtake him.

Max does not regret his actions, though.  He’s not proud of it, or that he escaped the gallows due to his family name, and he doesn’t talk about it.  But he would do it again. He doesn't care what that says about him.

- Max knows how to juggle.  He has a flask of whisky in a not-so-secret pocket at all times, and carries several knives concealed about his person for the purposes of eating, stabbing, throwing, etc.  He abhors the chantry and frequently insults it, so he and Cassandra fight like cats and dogs.  He’s actually fond of her, though. She probably hates him, bc when she and Leliana first called Max the ‘herald of Andraste’, Max laughed so hard he nearly pissed himself.  He almost caused a Diplomatic Incident bc he refuses to bow to anyone--even the Empress of Orlais.  Max hates being called the herald or ‘your worship’ etc and fucks with the boot-lickers who try and curry favour with him. Dorian finds it hilarious. The only time he ever used his position to get his way was with that prick who had Dorian’s amulet--and it was a good fucking bluff, bc he’s not of the main family, just a branch of ‘impoverished gentry’ (like, they have land, but the family home is in a right state and the vault is...empty. And they’ve no staff. And Bann Trevelyan is a special individual.)

Three things that your muse likes doing in their free time:

-Music! Max is made of music (mostly bagpipes), he loves singing and knows how to play the lute. Sometimes he steals the one from Dorian's nook and uses it to ~serenade~ him. (Max knows SO MANY sappy love songs and laments.)  He has also been known to provide lullabies to the dying, even out in the field (bc how are these people dying for this cause he’s not sure he’s even on board with, they fucking die in his name how is he ever going to live with himself if he isn’t killed horribly by Coryphe-tits), to perform classic Free Marches tavern songs with Blackwall, and even occasionally rope the entirety of the Herald's Rest (or just the travelling party) into waulking songs (u know the ones they used to do when they were waulking wool, and one person sings the verses and everyone joins in the bit with just nonsense words or whatever?? Chuir m'athair mise dhan taigh charraideach, or hè mo leannan, hò mo leannan, ones like that?? good shite, cracking songs).  

Only when he's drunk, though. 

(He's drunk a lot.)

-Max has a soft spot for children. Having spent so much time in the role of caregiver, it's only too easy to fall back into old habits, especially with the number of orphans the inquisition...acquired after Haven.  He plays with the kids when he gets the chance, and can often be found making them laugh by sassing the chantry sisters and shouting various obscenities.

-Max is an excellent horseman.  He took to riding like a duck to water, and has always had a way with horses. The only horse he's ever met that didn't like him is the Ferelden Forder he got from Master Dennet--and he suspects it's because the horse somehow knows that Max was a jerk to its master.  As revenge, Max calls the horse 'Sweet Roll'; as revenge for that, Sweet Roll has eaten several of Max's gloves and bitten a hole in more than one pair of Max's trousers. The cycle of vengeance is never-ending. (Let it be known that his own horse at home, Rowan, is a sturdy Free Marches Ranger that loves him and doesn't eat his clothes.)

Seven people your muse loves / likes:

-Elinor, nicknamed Eilidh (u say it like 'ae-lee') -- She is Max's middle sister, about five years younger than he is.  She has dark hair and blue eyes like her brother, but she is slight whilst he is tall.  Elinor was a mage, made tranquil at the age of sixteen under suspicious circumstances. She was very shy and quiet, but also very compassionate, as well as the best musician in the family before she was magically castrated.  Since returning home, she has cultivated a large garden which she tends devotedly, and also has a small army of cats.  They are all named after berries.  Max fought like a wild-cat to protect her when the templars came to take Elinor away to the circle, even tried shielding her with his body, which is how he got the scar on his face. He adores her and would do anything for her.

-Catrìona, nicknamed Ceit (sounds just like 'Kate') is Max's youngest sister.  She is ten years his junior, so he more or less raised her, even tutoring her in swordsmanship, horsemanship, archery (though she's a better shot), etc.  She is a sprightly ginger-haired lass with blue eyes and loads of freckles, who talks very loudly and laughs very loudly and wILL CHALLENGE U TO A FIGHT IF U INSULT HER BROTHER OR SISTER, THANKS!  She's nearly fearless, very kind, and her best friend is her own horse, an ornery beast called Storm. (Storm bites. So does Ceit.)  She and Max play-fight and jokingly call each other names, but they adore each other.

So basically she's sort of Merida. I REGRET NOTHING FIGHT MEEEEEE

-Blackwall! Max is very fond of Blackwall. Top lad. Good set of pipes on him, right good for tavern songs. U know what they call an Ostwick tavern? Taigh-seinnse.

-Varric!  Max is convinced that Varric is one of the best people to ever exist.  If Varric knew how sincerely he means that, he would laugh. Also maybe cry. 

-Dorian!  Max is completely and utterly in love with Dorian. They’re both hopeless romantics and also bad at emotions, so it’s a mess. But a good mess? 😃

-Josephine! She is the source of all goodness in the universe, and probably the actual leader of the entire inquisition. She does all the real work, anyway. Max just kills shite. And rescues lost animals.

-Sera! They pull pranks together. She reminds him a bit of Ceit, as well, so he loves her.

-Honourable mentions:  Solas (he knows so much, and talks about his Fade Travels in that lovely story-teller voice), Harritt (best. blacksmith. evER.), Dagna (she’s fucking delightful), Master Dennet (adorably grumpy old bastard), Helisma (reminds him of Elinor, he looks out for her in case anyone gives her trouble), Fiona (a bad-ass motherfucker if there ever was one), Krem (fun to spar with), Cassandra (fun to spar with), and Grim (a good listener)

Phobia (well, fear, anyway) your muse has:

Himself.  After what he did at the Ostwick circle, Max knows that he is capable not just of killing, but of slaughter.  He does not regret his actions there (justified or not, right or wrong, he doesn't give a shite, he will sacrifice anything for his sisters) but he does worry that one day, the rage will overtake him.  That he'll hurt somebody he loves, that he might lose his friends, his family, his lover.  That he might lose himself.  Being the only son, the eldest, he was supposed to look after the girls.  He'd promised his mother--his dying mother--that he'd always protect them and look after them and just look at how that ended.  Look what he's done--look what he's let happen.  This is what happens when anyone trusts him to do anything--he fucks it up, because he's a selfish, lazy coward who can't do anything right.  He wants so badly to be good, but he's fucking terrible at it, so he mostly stopped trying--enough that everyone else thinks he has a devil-a-bit-do-I-care attitude, that he's loud and irreverent and brash and impulsive and angry and mercurial and careless.

But he does care.  He cares too much.  

That’s his downfall.  Every single time.

Tags:

I TAG YOU!  u know who u are

also @m1lkcl0uds come onnn show off Persephone, she’s adorable ❤

[writingthingsisdifficult]

Happy birthday!

I wrote this small drabble for my friend who I won’t name because I’m not sure he’s out to everybody yet. Happy birthday, buddy!

The reader is trans, and struggles to find the courage to tell his friends.

Word count: 1008

Sam couldn’t understand why you suddenly started to shut him out like you did. After all, you were best friends – ever since you’d busted through the doors to that vampire nest and accidentally saved both his and Dean’s ass. Sure, it had taken him a little while for him to break through your walls, but once he did, the two of you were practically inseparable.

Dean always joked you were twins separated at birth, which made you laugh every time, smacking his shoulder and telling him to shove it. To that he replied that he’d always wanted a sister, and that for lack of a better alternative, you’d do. You’d laugh, he’d laugh, and you’d hug and mumble some sappy shit about loving him too.

To be perfectly honest, you’d love to have two Winchester brothers. They were everything you could ever wish for in a family: always protecting you, and being there for you when you needed it – or teasing you for being a dork. Frequently. But you didn’t want to be their sister.

That was your big secret: one you’d carried with you for as long as you could remember, but you had never mustered the courage to tell anyone. Even your family didn’t know. Now, the Winchesters were fairly open people. They frequently hung out with angels – well, one angel – and other creatures, even tolerating the King of Hell, but you had no idea how they would react to the news that you were a man, not the woman they thought they knew.

You’d seen plenty of horrible examples where people thought it would be safe to come out, but then their loved ones turned a one eighty on them. The mere thought of losing them: your best friends, your chosen family: it terrified you. So you pulled back. Slowly, so they wouldn’t notice.

But Sam noticed. Of course he did. You didn’t tell him everything anymore, and during slow periods you spent an increasing amount of time in your room. When your birthday approached, he decided he had to do something.

He waited until you got hungry and snuck up on you while you were making a midnight snack in the kitchen.

“Happy birthday!” he began, producing a birthday cupcake with bright green icing and a large, pink candle.

“Thank you!” You took the cake and hugged him tight, realising you’d missed his presence, but after a few seconds you let go and took a couple of steps back, keeping your eyes on the burning candle.

“Um… I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while,” he continued when you said nothing more.

“Of course. Shoot.” You were too cheerful; it sounded almost fake, but your nerves vibrated through your body. The way he looked at you had you shivering with fear. What could possibly be so important he had to ambush you in the kitchen?

Sam sighed. He had no better way of starting the conversation: “You’ve been avoiding me.”

For a moment you thought of denying it, but you knew it was no use. He was right; you knew it and he knew it, so you dipped your head once. “I…” You didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled you down on a chair and plopped down on the other, sliding a bottle of beer over the table. “Don’t be. I’m sure you’ve got a good reason. But I don’t want you to, so talk to me? Please?”

Looking anywhere but at Sam, you took a long sip of your beer. Should you tell him? What if he thought you were gross? What if he told you to get your disgusting ass out of the bunker? But a small voice in the back of your head piped up. Sam was your best friend. You’d been through a lot together. He’d seen you at your worst, and still hadn’t turned you away. And now: when you’d not said anything for several minutes, he was still there: waiting.

“I’m…” The words got stuck in your throat. “You… I have… a secret.” This was it. The first step. Giving Sam a nervous look, you were comforted by the calm look on his face. He could take this. But could you? “I’m not who you think I am,” you continued, finding the words flowing easier now. “You know me as this –“ Standing up, you gestured over your own body, feeling his eyes following your hands. “But this is not who I am in here.” You patted the side of your head and sat down again. “I’m… a m-man.” As soon as the words left your lips, you scrunched your eyes together, waiting for the first blow. When a warm, calloused hand landed on top of yours, you opened one just barely to look up at Sam.

He was smiling gently, eyes glinting. “Thank you for telling me,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “I’m honoured you trust me enough to share your secret, but,” he said, shrugging mischievously, “I sorta knew already.”

“What?”

“Yeah, sorry. One of your binders got mixed in with my laundry a while ago.  At first I thought you had back problems, but that didn’t really make any sense, so I googled it. Did a bit of research too. And I snooped around your browsing history.”

You stared at him, not believing what you heard. “Wow. And you didn’t say anything?”

“Well, I thought you’d tell me when you were ready.  I didn’t want to rush you into anything.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Your heart was beating fast, and you didn’t know what you wanted most: to cry or laugh, or maybe both.

Sam snuck a small dollop of the icing on your cupcake and stuck it in his mouth. “You don’t have to say anything. Just…”

“Yes?”

“Just promise me you won’t hide away anymore.”

“I promise.” You blew out the candle and took a bite of cake, grinning and sniffing at the same time. “You know, Sam, this might just be the best birthday ever.”

I’ve got a lot of friends on my tag list:

@awesomeahwu @brynleewolfe @funwithfanfics @babeinthebowtie @savingapplepie-eatingthings @winchesterprincessbride @savvythedork @littlegreenplasticsoldier @youtubehelpsmesurvive @blackcherrywhiskey @mrswhozeewhatsis @schwarzwaelder-kirschtorte @aiaranradnay

[sinsoakedsaints]

i know i have the best mutuals bc everyone’s been absolutely hurling their brie larson’s at me and u know what!! it’s my fave thing ever!! thank u enablers for feeding into my larson psychopathy. got a brie that needs more threads? here i am. tbh got any character who gets slept on that u want more plots for? i’m ur mans!! loves it. love u all. love all ur muses. absolutely superb u funky little creative geniuses. 

[sinsoakedsaints]

@ @ @ @

For every @ I get, I have to tag someone I love/look up to!

@sympathyforawolf​ you’re one of the first ppl who i wasn’t friends with before i made this account that i became mutuals with and u’re such a lovely presence on my dash and in my orbit. i love seeing ur threads and the effort u put into ur characters is astounding. u never once make my slow ass feel bad for being slow and i appreciate u so much!! 

@ycvrstruly​ DJHGFDGH i literally scream every time i think ab harrison and lennon and how iconic they are, they’re so funny and i love randomly popping up in each other’s ims!! u’re wicked cool and we’re gonna write more together this year. i’ve spoke that into existence i have planted the seed and i will see the harvest.

@trepidaticns​ ughhhh.. i guess u can be included in this narrative JHSGFSGH my eternal frenemy that i actually adore, u’re hysterical and an amazing writer, with the strangest sleeping pattern ever. brb on my way to fight *bucks so u can have more free time!! 

@chingcna​ THE FIRST PLACE I GO AFTER I SUFFER THRU RPDR EVERY WEEK SHGSH i love our shady chats about that shows endless nonsense as well as ur talent for slipping barbara palvin into everything, a constant mood. i can’t wait  to write our ships more and the world’s worst siblingz, anarchy and alyx!!