#I have been sitting on this one for literal months

[pleasestophurtingmek]

But I’m supposed to believe you’re not a hoe? And you wanna sit here and call me a pervert you’re literally a sick fuck. That entertains anything that comes your way sexually . It’s crazy 2 me how u can do me so dirty when all I’ve ever done, was do right and love you . I slapped tf out of you one time and you beat the fuck out of me the whole time b4 it. I don’t ever wanna go through that again. You don’t understand what it felt like to be me n the situation. I know you know what it felt like to be you baby and I know that u was hurt the most & felt helpless and scared because the person who is supposed to be protecting you is hurting you. But I was the person that had to sit there and stand alone and understand everything I’d ever done wrong 2 u. for months and months even after you left me.and how fucked up the whole situation was.there’s not been one day since the day I met you that I haven’t went longer than 15 minutes without thinking about you. I don’t think you understand how much you run through my fucking head. I’ve never been like this with anybody’s soul on this planet in my entire life. What I have with you will never be re-created because I know it was meant to be forever . It’s just getting you to understand that and getting to change your ways long enough for you to actually talk to one person (me) so you can see how much I’ve always loved you. You’ve always been my ride or die. From the second I pulled up to your apartment and I told you to get in this truck and park it for me because I didn’t think I knew I couldn’t fit. I clicked with you right then. Cause This girl is funny as fuck. She’s so cute and bossy, you was trying to tell me you could park this truck cause I was taking to long to park and it started raining. And you knowing damn good and well u don’t know what it’s like to drive this big ass school bus. I made you learn your lesson. I told you to get up in this truck and park it for me. Guess what you did ?😂😂 you figured out this man actually knows how to drive a truck. And you jumped up in that truck and had to get right back out 🤷‍♂️🤣😂 i don’t get y u act like u want one person when you’ve never stopped entertaining less than 3 people the entire time you’ve been with me ???? It’s the fact that you sit here and paint this picture of this beautiful woman who has been nothing but hurt her whole life and wants to be loved by one person, but can’t never focus and slow down and understand that one person‘s love they have for her. It’s confusing because you sit here and expect me to believe that you’re not a hoe but yet you entertain two other guys the entire time you’ve been with me … literally you’re posting stuff about wanting Patrick to hug you so soft that you melt? So please tell me why the fuck you would ever want to be held by somebody that you don’t even find sexually attractive.??? It’s the lies, bro. You wanna know why you can never be happy. This is why you can never be honest.. I get it. You’ve done a bunch of fucked up shit it’s hard to fucking say shit out loud Cause most of the time that shit is embarrassing when you fuck up and do stupid shit like that. But all I’m asking you is to just focus on me and actually try to understand how much I love you. When can u ever tell me the truth? Like if you say you don’t love me you don’t wanna be with me. Why the fuck not just tell me the truth. So everyone can try to move on and understand what we’ve done to each other. I’m tired of u lying to me acting like you haven’t been cheating on me and talking to other people the whole time you’ve been with me…. And is honestly kind of funny and weird that you made patrick sit here and type some weird ass shit about y’all supposedly not never doing anything. And about how it was a sole purpose to meet each other.. for what motherfucker?? she’s been dating me for two years. Why the fuck do you think you need to get to know her??…. When you told me that he told you he was only coming there 4 his birthday. He was never even supposed to come and c you. The things you say don’t make sense.

by anonymous

[00valentina-writes00]

Vi has been meaning to ask out the crush that she's so convinced is straight and oblivious, so she goes home to Reader and eat dinner with her, before asking if reader likes her as they cuddle... Only for Reader to ask why she ask that. Vi thinks she's overstepped - Reader is just wondering what made Vi so anxious as Reader has assumed they've dated for the last six months but taken it slow.

♡♥︎ Six Months Late ♥︎♡

Here’s a sneak peek on what I’ve been working on so you guys stay fed <3

Warnings: Pure fluff, also mutual stupidity, Vi overthinking herself into oblivion, reader being adorably oblivious but in a different way, cuddling, soft Vi, humor.

Vi had spent the last two weeks hyping herself up to ask you out.

It was pathetic, really.

She had taken punches from Shimmered-up goons twice her size, squared off against enforcers with nothing but her fists, and survived years in Stillwater Prison, but the thought of asking you on a date had her stomach in knots.

To be fair, you weren’t just anyone.

You were you.

Her best friend, her crush, the person she had spent the last year hopelessly pining over. The one person who made her feel like she could breathe even when the weight of the past threatened to crush her.

And, unfortunately, the person she was pretty damn sure was straight.

You had never mentioned liking girls. You never reacted when Vi flirted (and God, she flirted). You never even seemed to notice the way Vi looked at you, like you had personally put the stars in the sky.

And yet, despite all that, you let her stay at your place. You let her invade your space, sit too close on the couch, steal your blankets, hold onto you when she needed grounding.

And that was the problem.

She didn’t know if you let her do those things because you were just that comfortable with her… or if you felt something more.

Which was why she needed to ask.

Before she lost her damn mind.

Dinner was nice. You had made her favorite, and Vi had spent the entire meal not being normal about it—stealing bites from your plate, bumping her knee against yours under the table, watching you laugh with a dopey grin on her face.

By the time you were both curled up on the couch, her arm slung around your shoulders, her thumb tracing absentminded circles against your arm, Vi thought she might actually combust.

Now or never.

“So, uh…” Vi cleared her throat, tightening her hold on you slightly. “Can I ask you something?”

You hummed, shifting so your head rested against her shoulder. “Of course.”

Vi exhaled slowly, steeling herself.

“Do you—uh—like me?”

A pause.

You blinked up at her. “What?”

Vi swallowed hard, her pulse hammering. “Do you… like me? You know, in a more than friends kinda way?”

Your brows furrowed, your lips parting slightly like you were trying to process the question.

Vi’s stomach dropped.

Shit.

She knew she shouldn’t have asked. She should have just kept her mouth shut, should have been grateful for what she had instead of trying to push for more.

She started to pull away, but you immediately latched onto her hoodie, holding her in place.

“Wait,” you said, blinking at her in confusion. “Why are you asking that?”

Vi let out a strained chuckle, trying to play it off despite the lump forming in her throat. “Just… thought I should clear things up. Y’know, before I embarrass myself.”

You stared at her, your expression shifting into something unreadable.

Then—slowly, so slowly—your eyes widened.

“Vi.”

She swallowed. “Yeah?”

“You absolute dumbass.”

Vi blinked. “What?”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “Vi, we’ve been dating for six months.”

Vi’s brain short-circuited.

She stared at you like you had just grown a second head. “WHAT?”

You grinned, looking way too amused for someone who just broke her entire worldview. “Yeah, babe. We’ve been together for half a year.”

Vi opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “No, we haven’t.”

You snorted. “Yes, we have.”

“No, we haven’t!”

“Babe,” you said, laughing now, “I literally kissed you on New Year’s and told you I was glad we were taking things slow.”

Vi’s soul left her body.

Her mouth moved soundlessly as she tried to recall that night, and oh my God.

You did kiss her.

You did say that.

And she had been so stunned, so overwhelmed, she hadn’t even questioned it. She had just thought you were feeling affectionate. Or tipsy. Or—

Vi slapped a hand over her face, groaning loudly.

“Oh my God.”

You giggled, absolutely delighted by her suffering. “I just assumed you knew.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know?!” Vi lifted her hand, gesturing wildly between the two of you. “You never said anything!”

“I thought I did!”

“You didn’t!”

You cackled, pressing your face into her shoulder as you shook with laughter. “Vi, baby, I thought you were just taking things slow!”

Vi groaned again, letting her head fall back against the couch, her hands covering her face. “I thought you were straight!”

“STRAIGHT?!” You lifted your head, still grinning. “Vi, I have literally called you my girlfriend before.”

Vi’s hands slid down her face, her cheeks burning. “I thought you were joking!”

“Why would I joke about that?!”

“Because you never flirted back!”

“I thought you liked the chase!”

Vi let out a strangled noise, grabbing a pillow and smothering her face into it.

You giggled, prying it from her hands. “Babe, I’m so sorry. I genuinely thought we were on the same page.”

Vi exhaled sharply, giving you a deadpan look. “Six months.”

You bit your lip, looking at least a little guilty. “I mean, we do act like a couple. We cuddle all the time, you always steal my hoodies, we hold hands—”

Vi groaned. “I thought you were just touchy!”

You gave her a look. “Babe. I make out with you.”

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE EXPERIMENTING!”

You threw your head back and howled with laughter, clutching onto Vi’s hoodie as you shook with amusement. “Oh my God, Vi, you idiot!”

Vi huffed, crossing her arms, looking away with an exaggerated pout.

You wiped at your eyes, catching your breath before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

Vi melted.

Even after six months (which she was still reeling over), the effect you had on her was ridiculous.

“I love you, dummy,” you murmured, nuzzling against her.

Vi let out a long, dramatic sigh, finally relenting as she wrapped her arms around you again.

“I love you too, even though you’re the actual worst.”

You snickered, pressing another kiss to her jaw. “So… do you still wanna ask me out?”

Vi rolled her eyes, flipping you both so you were pinned against the couch as she buried her face in your neck.

“You owe me a proper date after this,” she grumbled, her voice muffled against your skin.

You grinned, wrapping your arms around her. “Deal.”

She huffed. “And for the record—if we ever break up for some reason, tell me.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Noted.”

Vi let out another sigh, holding you tighter.

She had spent months agonizing over whether she had a chance with you.

Meanwhile, she had apparently been your girlfriend the entire time.

Unbelievable.

At least she finally knew.

And at least now… she could properly enjoy it.

[alotofpockets]

Every scar has a story | Lucy Bronze x Reader

5k celebration prompt: “Your scars don’t make you weak, they show you how strong you are.”

Woso masterlist | Words: 700

-----

You had known Lucy since you were kids, the two of you instantly becoming friends in school. Lucy had been your closest friend from the very start, and even a year on the other side of the world to study in the U.S. couldn’t change that.When Lucy returned to England and joined you at Leeds University, your friendship deepened in ways you hadn’t expected.

At Leeds University your friendship with Lucy turned into a relationship. Despite countless people telling you that your relationship from such a young age wouldn’t last, the two of you have been going strong for over ten years now.

You had both grown a lot since your university days, but were always able to grow together and adjust where necessary.

The growth you've seen Lucy go through with her career has been incredible. You watched her play with the boys back home, and join her first all girl’s team. You watched her go pro. Win with both club and country. Earning more trophies than could possibly fit in your apartment, or the new one when you’d move when she joined a new club.

But you've also watched her get injured more times that you'd like. Minor muscle injuries, but also hamstring injuries, and her worst enemy, knee injuries. Over the years, she had more surgeries than you could count on one hand. 

Lucy was a tough one though. Of course she was, tough was literally in her name. Even during her many recovery periods, she kept a smile on her face for the most part.

But you also knew that beneath all that toughness, she struggled sometimes. Whether it was physically or mentally, no injury really went without struggles. By now you had learned what she needed when she was struggling with her injuries, and you could always be the person she needed in those moments.

She could have been doing well for months and then out of nowhere she’d have a night where she was struggling again. 

Tonight was one of those nights.

Lucy said she was going to change and be right back, but she had been upstairs for almost thirty minutes now. You went up to check on her and found her sitting on the edge of the bed. Her eyes were unfocussed, and her finger was absentmindedly moving over the scars on her knee. She didn’t look up when you entered the room, but she knew you were there.

 “Sometimes I hate looking at them,” She spoke barely above a whisper. “They make me feel weak.”

Hearing her say that broke your heart a little. She was the strongest person you knew, and she thought she looked weak?

You crouch down in front of her, placing your hand over hers, stopping the tracing she was doing. “Your scars don’t make you weak, Luce. They show you how strong you are.”

You give her hand a soft squeeze. “Every single one of them has a story. A story that shows the proof that you fought, healed and came back even stronger.”

Lucy searched your eyes, trying to figure out if you were just saying that to make her feel better, or if you actually meant it. So you kept going. “You’ve overcome so much, and you’re still out there playing at top level. You’re still winning. Luce, you are the strongest person I know.”

The only thing she could find in your eyes was sincerity. She stayed silent for a moment until her lips curled up slightly. She pulled you closer and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

You chuckled, “Part of the job description, remember?”

Lucy let out a soft chuckle. “Right, I forgot I was talking to my personal therapist. How much for the session?” She jokes.

You pretended to calculate in your head. “I think a kiss and a cuddle should cover today’s session.” She smiled and kissed your lips. Then she pulled you in even closer and let the both of you fall back onto the bed. 

“Thank you.” She said into the otherwise silent room. You pressed a loving kiss to her cheek. “No need to thank me, I’ll always be here for you.”

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also support me by leaving a tip 💗

[mashtatosworld]

HII HII can u please do a gd x world-famed kpop idol?? like blackpink-famous iykwim!! and maybe reader being a "junior" in the industry? (eg. them coming from 3rd gen era like bp or basically js young) they met for the very first time at an event, and reader being his junior went excited "omg g dragon?? the G DRAGON???" basically.

idk where to go after that point but perhapss (an idea, take it with a grain of salt lolol) gd was actually lowkey a fan of her instead? like reader was a breathe of fresh air, very talented, on the rise in the industry (did a hollywood thing) or something !!! i hope this part isnt too OOC but UH basically do your magic author!! im going to love anything you write either wayyy xxxxx🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

only girl

summary: in which you're both pretty in pink

You had to physically stop yourself from bouncing on the couch.

The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and faint cigarette smoke, a combination that somehow smelled exactly like you imagined he would.

Even after two weeks of your evenings spent here, sitting in G-Dragon’s studio still felt like a fever dream.

Your hands clenched into fists in your lap, trying to keep your excitement contained as Jiyong sat across from you, casually scrolling through his laptop as if this wasn’t the biggest moment of your career.

“This is the track,” he finally said, pressing play.

A deep bassline rumbled through the speakers, followed by a hypnotic melody. The beat was dark and sultry, unmistakably his sound, but then - your voice.

Your breath hitched.

He had already layered your demo vocals onto the song.

You glanced at him in disbelief, but Jiyong was watching you intently, one hand resting lazily against his lips.

“You like it?”

“Are you serious?” Your voice cracked slightly, betraying your nerves. “This is - this is insane. It’s so good.”

He smirked, pleased.

“I'm glad you agreed to work with me. I’ve been a fan of yours for a while,” he admitted casually, as if he hadn’t just shattered your entire perception of reality.

Your brain short-circuited.

“I- wait, really?”

Jiyong chuckled at your reaction. “You have this energy- ” he gestured vaguely, “- that the industry needs. It's addictive. This is your first solo project, right?”

You nodded, still processing the fact that he admitted to liking your music. You were a part of a girl group that were on the rise to success with a couple of hit songs.

The girls were currently on hiatus as they worked on their individual careers and this was the first time you'd worked on something without them. It was surreal that he chose you to feature on his comeback album after his years away from the spotlight.

“Well,” he leaned forward, eyes glinting, “let’s hope this is just the beginning.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 Six months later, 2024 MAMA Awards:

You were trying very hard to keep a straight face.

Which was difficult, considering G-Dragon was standing directly in front of you, smiling that slow, knowing smile like he knew a secret no one else in the room did.

Because he did.

Your bandmates, however, were completely oblivious, practically vibrating as they struggled to remain composed. You were nearly hit in the face with a light stick.

“Holy shit, it’s actually him,” one of them whispered.

Your leader was the first to recover. “Ah! Sunbaenim! It’s an honour to meet you!”

Jiyong chuckled, bowing respectfully. “I’ve been meaning to say hello.”

As he rose, his eyes flickered to yours, just for a second.

No one else noticed, but you did.

That subtle flicker of amusement, that unspoken acknowledgment.

You had seen each other just last night.

And yet, here you were, pretending this was your first interaction.

“I’m a huge fan,” your youngest member gushed. “Like, actually. Huge.”

Jiyong smirked. “Oh?”

Your bandmate nodded rapidly. “We were literally just talking about your performance.”

Which was true.

Jiyong had just stepped off the stage after his first live performance in years, wearing a custom pink ensemble that had the entire room of idols buzzing.

And coincidentally…

You were wearing pink too.

Your stylist had handed you this dress earlier today, saying it would be “perfect for the show.” But you knew better.

This wasn’t a coincidence.

Jiyong planned this.

It was a silent, unspoken statement - one only the two of you understood.

Your bandmates, still too distracted by his presence, completely missed the way his fingers briefly grazed yours when he moved past you.

A touch so fleeting it almost didn’t happen.

Almost.

And then, just as quickly as he appeared, he was gone.

Your bandmate immediately turned to you, shaking your arm.

“Hello?! You love G-Dragon. Why aren't you screaming right now?!”

You blinked innocently.

“Oh, trust me,” you said, lips curling into a secretive smile.

“I was dying on the inside.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Your back hit the hotel suite’s wall with a soft thud, Jiyong’s mouth already on yours before the door had even clicked shut.

His hands found your waist, fingers pressing into the silky fabric of your dress - the pink dress - bunching it slightly as he pulled you closer.

“You looked so good tonight,” he murmured against your lips, voice husky.

You smiled into the kiss, fingers tangling in his pink hair.

“You planned it.”

Jiyong pulled back slightly, cocking a brow. “Planned what?”

You scoffed. “The outfits. You knew I’d match you.”

He grinned, shameless. “Maybe.”

You swatted his arm, but he caught your wrist, pressing a slow kiss to your palm before lacing his fingers with yours.

“You should’ve seen your face,” he mused, smirking. “Trying so hard to act normal.”

“You weren’t exactly subtle either,” you shot back. “The lingering looks? The hand touch? Jiyong, come on.”

He hummed in amusement, resting his forehead against yours.

“We’ve been careful for six months,” he murmured, thumb stroking the inside of your wrist. “You really think people are starting to notice?”

“Not yet,” you admitted. “But if you keep showing up to award shows looking like my soulmate, they might.”

Jiyong chuckled.

Then, softly - softer than you’d ever heard him - he murmured,

“Would that be so bad, Jagiya?”

Your breath caught.

This wasn’t just a secret fling anymore.

It was something else entirely.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

double dropping in one day? oops. im becoming consumed by tumblr 🤭

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ꜱɴᴀᴘ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛ

friends to lovers, tension, subtle flirting, one-sided feelings?, internal struggle, light angst, vague romantic undertones, open-ended, not-so-platonic vibes

listen to the song while reading!

word count - 500ish

Chris is lying on his stomach on the couch, lazily flipping through channels while she sits on the floor, leaning against the coffee table, half-watching, half-scrolling through her phone.

“Weird,” he says, glancing at her, before looking back at the screen.

She glances up. “What?”

“You being here. Feels like it’s been forever.”

She snorts. “It hasn’t been that long.”

Chris tilts his head, like he’s pretending to count. “Mm. Two months, give or take.”

She groans. “Okay, whatever, life gets busy.”

“Right. Life. Or your boyfriend.” He shoots her a look, eyes teasing but something else lurking underneath.

She tosses a pillow at him. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying, you ghosted me the second you got cuffed. You used to come over all the time, and now it’s like…poof. Vanished.”

“I did not ghost you. We literally texted last week.”

“You sent me an Instagram reel with no context at two in the morning. That doesn’t count.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Okay, fine, maybe I haven’t been around much. But that’s normal, right? When you start dating someone?”

Chris shrugs. “Guess so.” He finally settles on a random sitcom and tosses the remote aside.

She observes him for a second. “You don’t like him, do you?”

“I don’t know him.”

“Chris.”

He exhales dramatically. “Fine. He seems… whatever. Normal. Safe.”

She frowns. “Safe is bad now?”

“Not bad. Just-” He presses his lips together, then rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I didn’t take you for the ‘safe’ type.”

That throws her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Chris stretches, like this conversation is making him physically tense. “I dunno. It’s just weird, hearing you talk about someone like they’re a checklist. Like, yeah, he’s nice, he has a good job, he treats me well-” He makes a face. “Where’s the part where you light up when you talk about him?”

She opens her mouth, then shuts it.

Chris glances at her, his expression unreadable. “If you’re happy, you’re happy. I’m not trying to be a hater.”

She looks down at her hands, picking at a loose thread on her sweater. “I am happy.” It comes out a little too defensive.

“Okay.” Chris nods slowly, like he’s deciding whether or not to believe her. “Happy for you,” he murmurs, slightly forced.

The show on TV fills the silence. A laugh track plays. Neither of them laugh.

Eventually, Chris sits up, stretching his arms over his head. “Anyway. You hungry?”

She exhales, relieved at the shift. “Starving.”

“Pizza?”

“Obviously.”

Chris grabs his phone to order, but even as they move on, something about the conversation sticks.

She tells herself he’s wrong. That she is happy.

But later, when she’s lying in bed next to someone who is safe and normal and treats her well, she can still hear Chris’s voice in the back of her mind.

“Where’s the part where you light up when you talk about him?”

She hates that she doesn’t have an answer.

tq @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers!!

a/n: rushed so this one's a little... eh.

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart @cowboylikenat @recordeeznuts @camzeecorner @sturniolo101 @courta13 @sweetshuga

cya soon!

[rapunzellovesbooks]

Imma be real for a moment.

This is ridiculous. People being nervous over who will be at the SAG Awards and with whom, who they will or will not interact with (ON CAMERA), what the seating arrangement is like...

It will literally be one day, a few hours at most for all of them and then life goes on. My wish is to see my Polin ship captains reunited again and get a new picture, but beyond that, I do not care. I know a lot care, and it is the haters. Plain and simple. Imagine wasting your energy on those questions because you are already planning how to turn it into something negative.

Maybe Nicola sits with the female nominees, maybe with the cast. Maybe she sits right next to Luke, maybe not. Maybe one of them brings a plus one, maybe they do not. What I love and care about is that for the first time we have a romance show, deemed silly by a lot of people and who a lot of people are bullied for liking, at a major award show. For a season about the overlooked ones, for the Colins and Pens of the world, for a season that everyone was so sure was going to flop. I did not flop, in fact, it was the only season of the show that grew in comparison to the previous one. However the show grows in the future, Luke and Nicola´s season set a precedent, a new standard, so much so that the spicy meter for the show is now the carriage scene. A show that makes a lot of people feel seen and loved, a show that is about happiness but that crazy fans make about who is the better ship, better season, better love story, all of that nonsense, when in reality, the show is built so that you can have your favorite characters and then enjoy the rest too. Is it perfect? No, but nothing is. That is the point. It does not have to be.

So, before an award show turns into the Ton and we have the Lord Fife´s and Cressida´s of the world come out of the woodwork, let me remind you that it should not be this big of a deal.

Luke was sleeping on his friend´s couch when he booked Colin, Nicola had just barely come out of working as an optician when she booked Penelope. They were literal walflowers and now both (hopefully) will be at the SAGs. However you will about the shipping, the truth is (and it has been said by them), they were able to do the show because of each other, because they are a support system to one another. I am tired of hearing people diminish that and saying that they will probably not even interact, when in truth, they do not have to interact for us, they can do it for themselves. They can pose together or not and it does not change anything. Until I hear them say I hate the other one it does not change anything. But, oh, wait a minute, not even a month ago, Nicola said the was the kindest and dearest friend. So there is that :)

[mt07131]

Relationship Dynamics 101 With Rook

[rooscandraw]

did this MONTHS ago but lost hero character lineup!! before casting comes out for pjo s2 and i have to redo my thalia/jason designs lol

(click for better quality/details!! ik tumblrs gonna eat it)

[ryllen]

something i promised on my kofi 6 months ago... 🫠

[zylphiacrowley]

A Heart to Heart

<previous - next>

[independent-fics]

The Leverage OT3 in Every Episode

Leverage (2008-2012)

01x10 The Juror #6 Job

[icewindandboringhorror]

boy in silly sitting positions compilation

[godblooded]

just an fyi, and it feels like it needs to be said here: your blog is your own space and you should be able to say whatever the fuck you want. if you’re sad? vent. get sad. maybe put it under a cut, definitely tag it, but get sad. if you feel like you need someone to talk to? drop a freaking message about how you’re feeling like you could use a buddy, or anything randomly engaging. if you’re having a hard time, you should feel safe and okay to talk about it in your own space. we’re writers and we’re people and while there’s a lot to be said for how engagement outside of oneself is necessary in rp (and really really needs to improve), i think there’s a lot that must be said about people reaching out to others. it’s become so solitary here — the whole ‘reblog from source’ thing when it comes to shit like about and musings is absurd. the whole refusing to like things is ridiculous. yes, curate your space, that’s important, but curating your space into a studio apartment only you live in doesn’t make this a community anymore, it makes it a studio apartment you live in.

just be yourself here. do whatever you want. but i’m always saying: remember you’re not alone, and don’t let yourself feel that way.

[whollyjoly]

for some reason i can't explain i know saint peter won't call my name

nothing that lives, lives forever - an immortal soldier!alton more au

(1.1k of snippets from my old guard(ish) au where alton more is old, too old, and has been living and fighting far longer than anyone should. full description/other thoughts at the bottom. tw: blood, violence, mentions of death)

Alton clicked the lighter closed, running a thumb over the silver case. The night was warm, sticky in a way that he never could get used to. He sucked in a breath from the cheap cigarette, letting his head fall back against the rough side of the barracks.

It was quiet. Typically, there would be no end to the commotion coming from the small building, one of many that littered Camp Toccoa. The wall of sound was ever-present, no matter if it was shouting or laughing or snoring. But whatever the cause, there was always noise. 

No matter if it was a blanket of noise he knew well, unchanging except for the language and the scenery. Soldiers are soldiers, and some things are a constant. It could almost be comforting, if it didn’t also mean that the need for soldiers was a constant as well.

However, tonight was a Saturday, and it was one of the few weekends that Sobel had allowed Easy the use of their weekend passes. Almost every man in the company had jumped at the chance to get off base, to travel home if they could and spend time with loved ones. The ones with farther-flung hometowns had spirited off to Atlanta, happy to spend their time drinking and dancing and fucking instead of slogging through another run, three miles up, three miles down.

Normally, Alton would have joined them in their carousing - it was easier to pass the time with the effortless camaraderie built during a training camp than bored and alone. 

But today had been a bad day. The sound of swords and the shift of sand beneath his feet followed him out of his nightmares, the humid summer of Georgia morphing itself into the baking, dry heat of the desert. 

His shouts must have been real, because when a hand came to shake him out of his dream, the first face he saw was not that of a grouchy NCO, but of a blood-caked Saracen, eyes alight with righteous fury. 

Alton didn’t think. He had grabbed the knife from under his pillow, an old thing that had been sharpened more times than he could begin to count, and was on the man in less than a breath, pressing the blade into the side of his neck. The familiar thrum of blood beat against his fingertips, the grit of sand scratched his gums. He knew what he had to do, had done it a thousand times, a thousand thousand times, what was a little more bloodshed spilled across his feet-

Alton had blinked, and came to himself in a rush.

Instead of an unnamed Saracen, the ashen face of Johnny Martin stared up at him, eyes wide behind the knife.

Alton drew back his hand, retreating almost as quick as he had lunged earlier. He mumbled a quick curse and apology as he stepped out of arm’s reach from the man. It wasn’t until Martin’s eyes widened even farther that Alton realized his tongue was slipping out Arabic of all things.

Usually, Alton was better about remembering himself, who he was almost as important as where he was. But for whatever reason, his demons had decided to catch up with him that night.

After a quick smile and some quip about the Krauts in his dreams, he managed to wave an only-slightly-mollified Martin off. The shorter man apparently hadn’t forgotten it though, if his watchful eyes during chow that morning were anything to go by.

Alton was just glad that no one else was awake to see it, at least. That was the last thing he needed.

And so, instead of joining in on a weekend of broads and booze, Alton found himself waving away the invitation by an eager Smokey and bemused Alley. When the horde made their way out of the barracks, fantasizing in bawdy terms about their planned misadventures, he felt like he could breathe easy.

Fucking finally.

~~

Alton took another drag from the cigarette. He watched the smoke curl, up and up until it faded into nothing amongst the darkening sky.

The lighter was a welcome weight in his hand, grounding him to this time, this life.

The design was worn by now, details barely visible after a half century of worrying. It still managed to amaze him, sometimes, what people could do with the smallest of canvases. Alton didn’t feel the same wonder however, wasn’t as mesmerized by the beauty man could create as he once was.

But in the quiet moments, he could still appreciate the time some French craftsman took to transform a hunk of metal into a small token carried around by a dead man.

Luz had spied the lighter one weekend, and laughed at him for using something so old-fashioned. Alton just shrugged, not caring to admit that he was still getting used to having a light at his fingertips. It wasn’t all that long ago when he was still lighting a pipe with a flintlock pistol, and not so long before that when he would carry around a flint and steel.

Time was passing all the more quickly these days, technologies changing and advancing, and everyone was obsessed with needing things to be quicker, cheaper, simpler. Alton scoffed. He could hardly find it in him to care.

He glanced down at the lighter in his hand, shifting it back and forth in a practiced motion and watched as the light skittered across the sides. 

It had shown flowers, once. A veritable garden of carnations, daffodils, and lilies of the valley, with leaves spilling across the front panel onto the back. They represent good fortune, he was told. Good fortune, luck, and hope. 

When the merchant described it to him, eyes ablaze with a passion known only to those with wares to sell, Alton didn’t try to hide the snort that escaped his throat. 

Fortune and Luck had abandoned him long ago, and hadn’t returned since waking up in a battlefield abandoned by all but the dead, sword in his chest and blood in his mouth. 

And what the fuck was Alton supposed to do with hope?

It was the quote on the back that had caught his eye, all those years ago in a street market in Reims. The beveled edges had faded with time, the familiar letters Alton traced were more memory by now than any physical mark. Une vie honorable est une vie éternelle.

An honorable life is an eternal life.

Alton couldn’t help but stare at the message, both then and now. He hated that goddamn word. Immortal. Unending. Eternal. 

They were such flowery words, used by people who craved what they couldn’t have, what they shouldn’t. The romanticized idea of the everlasting, the fountain of youth, the gift of life! Alton was sick of it.

This wasn’t life. He was a fucking dead man walking. And he sure as hell didn’t do anything honorable to deserve it.

months ago, while thinking about the absolute insanity of the almost...cavalier? attitude we see alton more have over the course of the series, an idea hit my brain: what if there was a reason nothing seemed to phase him - not panzers, not being a breath away from a car wreck, not bastogne, not speirs? what if this wasn't his first war? that thought spiraled me into a minor insanity that is this: my immortal soldier!alton more au, loosely inspired by the movie the old guard (2020). the idea is that, once upon a time, there was a soldier in a land many centuries ago. one day, he died in battle. and then, he woke up. and then he died. and then he woke up. over, and over. drawn to countless battles, conflicts, and wars, each one etching itself into the core of his soul. a never-ending cycle...until one sweltering summer, where he found himself at a training camp at the foot of a mountain. anyways. at some point, i plan on writing this as a full story, but that is admittedly a long ways away. however, in celebration of alton more's birthday today, i wanted to post my favorite scene that i've written for this au! it's set sometime at the beginning of the story, in the early days of camp toccoa. mostly, it's just a character study of this version of alton more. hope you enjoyed! and of course - happy birthday alton more!

(song insp.)

taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @coco-bean-1218 @bucky32557038ww2 @georgieluz @samwinchesterslostshoe @xxluckystrike @next-autopsy @ronald-speirs @land-sh @ronsparky @panzershrike-pretz @theredrenard @kyellin

[silverislander]

i'm thiiiiis close to just blocking the whole j/v tag and/or the individual tags for both characters :)))

[donaviolet]

Friendship is the most special thing in the world because no award could be give me bigger happiness than jumping around in my room and smiling because my pookie asked me if I wanted to match pfps