#I refuse to put that kind of thing on them

[thebibliosphere]

Calling you out for excellent self-talk strategies.

I’ve noticed in your posts about ongoing health that you often finish up with something along the lines of “I am experiencing Situations and Limitations, and this is ok. It is unpleasant, but still ok”

(Ok as in morally neutral, not as in everything is fine and normal and should be ignored)

And like… I can’t articulate how much I appreciate seeing that. It’s helpful as an outsider to see things put into context like that, and it’s also excellent modeling. Because I try so hard to talk to myself the same way, but sometimes it’s… just… really hard. And seeing other people using the same words makes it feel a tiny bit easier, for me, like it’s a little more real. And maybe it is actually ok.

Thank you for noticing, and I’m glad it’s something you find validating.

It’s actually something I’ve learned from radical acceptance therapy.

Too many people think that acceptance means either giving up or that you’ve found a way to be positive about something, when in reality it is a neutral stance.

I work daily to accept the curve balls my complex health needs throw at me. I am not happy about them, and nor do I need to be.

I refuse to embrace toxic positivity and say I am thankful for the challenges I overcome because I am not. No one needs to be thankful for surviving suffering. You are not obligated to find meaning in your pain.

It can just be something that is.

But nor should I view myself as negative.

I can acknowledge that I have negative feelings toward it, but I refuse to assign moral value to my situation because health is morally neutral. I will not berate myself with shoulda, coulda, woulda. That’s the path to madness and one I’ve been down many times before.

It’s far more healthful for me to say, “wow, this sucks. What can I do in this moment to care for myself that is realistic and mindful of my limitations?” and move on from there.

Sometimes the answer is “nothing” in which case I accept that all I can do is rest and be kind to myself over it.

It’s hard. But it’s a skill worth learning.

[captainuranium543]

Ft headcanons nobody wanted part 2

-natsu will occasionally get genuinely jealous over his friends owning appliances for heating. Why should they need those things when they have him, if they just call him over her do a way better job then any of those stupid gadgets. He finds out gray owns a hair dryer and immediately becomes a jealous ex girlfriend. He confronts Lucy in her apartment one night acting so serious he she doesn't even get mad that he broke in, then just goes "care to explain this?" And puts a lighter on the table.

- Wendy is very very quiet. Creepily so. Not elaborating but I think you can imagine the kinds of situations this leads to.

- Mira's eyes glow in the dark and it creeps everyone the fuck out

- erza has the worst hoarding problem. Her dorm room is entirely piled floor to ceiling with boxes of meticulously organized random items she refuses to throw out for some reason

young Mira: "alright this is ridiculous why do you even have this"

Young erza: "say what you want but when you need 746 packets of Mcnolias sweet and sour sauce and find your supply baron I'll be laughing"

- levy is one of the few members of the guild who actively sought it out to join. Before fairy tail she was an orphan and a student studying magic. She left to join fairy tail to learn more about magic in general from real world experience.

- laki will sometimes build creepily realistic wooden statues of her guild mates and leave them around in inconspicuous places so when you find them they scare the shit out of you. Sometimes she hides them too well and it takes years to discover them.

- Lucy has actually written several unpublished novels and the only other person who's ever seen them is levy. Lucy thinks their crap but levy carefully annotates every single one.

- laxus used to occasionally be forced to go on jobs with erza and Mira when they were young both to help and to make sure they didn't kill each other and he hated it.

- I think I might have said this before but I firmly believe levy, Lucy, freed and jellal later on all form a book club because they love reading, the problem is they all have vastly different tastes in book so they can never decide what to read each week and usually just end up playing Scrabble and talking shit about their various teammates

"please guys trust me this one's good"

"I am NOT reading Colleen Hoover Lucy and that's final"

- this one's based on city hero but I personally believe erza and Erik find a shocking common ground over motorcycles. Erza likes vehicles in general and Erik took up bike racing as a hobby, since discovering this is the longest they've been able to be in the same room together without someone throwing a punch.

- Wendy visits lamia scale regularly still to hang out with chelia. she usually brings romeo and they all go out to do whatever dumb kid stuff they want. (Tbh I just like her having friends her own age)

-lucy sometimes randomly lets her rich girl's heritage show in random conversation and it's always jarring. You'll be having a normal chill convo with her and then she'll look you dead in the eyes and ask you what colour your personal carriage was growing up.

- Natsu is genuinely a really good cook he just has a terrible taste so nobody wants to eat his food. For reference he only ever cooks his food because he enjoys doing it to him it tastes fine either way.

- if you had asked the fairy tail guild who the scariest guild member was in early season 1 the answers would have been erza, guildarts, laxus etc all the usual suspects. Once season 2 starts however the answer is unanimous. It's juvia. Juvia is fucking terrifying when she gets mad. You don't realize how scary water can be until it's filling your lungs and as your vision blurs until all you can see is her merciless stare.

- Mira and freed can drink blood for demon reasons. gray can too after getting devil slayer but he thinks its gross. Surprisingly so can gajeel because of the high iron content.

- gray the type of guy who's bed has only the smallest thinnest blanket on his bed and usually it's on the ground cuz he gets too hot

- meanwhile erza is the type of girl to have so many pillows, blankets and plushies on her bed you wonder how she fucking sleeps in it. Mf has a NEST.

- Lucy isn't even surprised anymore when she finds people in her house, she doesn't know how they keep getting in and honestly she doesn't care anymore she's to tired to deal with it.

- freed plays a lot of really fucking weird instruments. Idk it just seems like something he would do.

- bixlow can speak most languages and it's always really surprising when he randomly says smth like "oh yea I can speak ancient nirvid no prob" like that's totally normal

- if laxus and freed ever did get together (in my heart it's cannon) evergreen and bixlow would be their biggest haters. Yea they love them and they're happy for them but also EW. GROSS. GET A ROOM.

[miaoua3]

Hello,can you write something about scoups (arranged marriage or sugar daddy)?

hii! sure i can! im gonna go for sugar daddy hcs because that’s more my style (and also because arranged marriage trope never really made sense to me unless your parents force you to marry them so lmao). anyway i hope you enjoy this!🫶

Sugar Daddy! Seungcheol Headcanons:

sugar daddy! seungcheol who got jokingly told he should find himself a sugar baby because he has this all money that he barely spends so might as well “invest” that money and at the same time find someone to spend his days with since he’s been kind of miserable and hard to look at because of how lonely he’s been these last few years

sugar daddy! seungcheol who at first dismissed this idea, thinking it’s ridiculous- who would even want to spend their evening with miserable 35 year old ceo that is a bit socially awkward and stoic at times?

sugar daddy! seungcheol who however couldn’t stop thinking about this ridiculous idea for days until finally, purely out of curiosity (liar) made an account on one of the apps for that sort of stuff, who put way too much thought if the picture he was using as his profile picture was good enough

sugar daddy! seungcheol who spend many nights surfing on that app, swiping left and right, talking to many women who were trying way too hard to impress him and who were lacking this little something that he was looking for, though he wasn’t sure what that something was

sugar daddy! seungcheol who then one night came across your profile, who was mesmerised by your beautiful eyes from the get go, who swiped right so fast, hoping that you would swipe right too…only to see that you already matched him

sugar daddy! seungcheol who spend days talking to you, who was being so respectful and cute, always asking about your day first before anything else, who always says that he doesn’t really like talking about his job and that he would much rather spend listening to you talk about whatever you want

sugar daddy! seungcheol who finally got the courage to ask you out after two weeks of talking every day to you

sugar daddy! seungcheol who made sure to prepare the best possible date for you even when he had little to no experience with dating, who pulled up to your apartment complex in his best audi, who spend entirely too much time slicking his hair back, clad in his best armani suit, who was anxiously rubbing his hands together, waiting for you in front of his car…until you stepped out in the most beautiful red dress ever, making his heart stop beating for a second

sugar daddy! seungcheol who took you to the best restaurant in the whole seoul city, who made sure to be the biggest gentleman ever- opening the car doors for you, as well as every other door, who kept his hand respectfully on your back as he walked you to your table, who pulled out your chair for you, who made sure to pick out the best wine according to your tastes that you mentioned him the first week you were talking

sugar daddy! seungcheol whose heart squeezed with pain when you finally told him the reason behind you joining the app, who gently held your hand as you explained to him how unsupportive your parents were of you pursuing your dream and getting the degree for it, how you have to work multiple jobs to make the ends meet and how you actually just got off work before the date and how you only had an hour to get ready for it

sugar daddy! seungcheol who made sure to take care of you after that date- inviting you on dates every few days, paying you way too much for it than you previously agreed on, after a month you were able to quit one of your jobs, making you have more free time to go on dates with seungcheol (which was totally his goal), who also bought you so many nice stuff because “every beautiful woman should be able to have the nicest of things she dreams of having”

sugar daddy! seungcheol who even after three months of seeing each other and spending almost every day together still refused to sleep with you- you were just so young, more than 10 years younger than he is, who didn’t want to taint your innocence with his dark thoughts and fantasies

sugar daddy! seungcheol all but forgot about his promise he made to himself about not sleeping with you the second you kissed him like a starved woman and with your beautifully big and shiny eyes asked him to fuck you

sugar daddy! seungcheol who didn’t think he would be so into being called ‘daddy’ in bed until one night when he was pounding into you mercilessly, his hips slapping against the skin of your ass, your tear filled eyes looking up at him as you let the word slip out, which made every thought disappear from his mind, focusing on making you cum around his dick while moaning “daddy” the whole time

sugar daddy! seungcheol who started constantly referring to himself as your daddy in bed, he could be fucking you against the glass window of his luxurious condo, his chest pressing against your back as he’s pounding your pussy, his hot breath brushing against your ear as he asks you “who’s your daddy? hm? does daddy make you feel good? cum. cum around daddy’s dick, cream around it”

sugar daddy! seungcheol who after months of this routine eventually caught feelings for you, who was so afraid of messing this up with you, but who couldn’t being himself to stop from seeing you, from taking care of you, who hoped that his feelings would eventually just fade away with time

sugar daddy! seungcheol who let out the biggest sigh of relief when you admitted to him your feelings for him in a shaky voice, who immediately kissed you senseless as he too, in a shaky voice, admitted “i love you too, so so much my sweetheart”

sugar daddy! seungcheol who gets upgraded to boyfriend! seungcheol and who couldn’t be happier about it. who moves you in with him within a month of you two being officially together, who makes you focus all of your energy on your studies (and him)

sugar daddy! seungcheol who was the best thing to have ever happened to you❤️

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

i hope this is okay for you! i think i overdid it on the daddy kink but oh well lol

[wannabehockeygf]

Melting - Clayton Keller

"So you'll smile at everything I say, You got some soft lips and some pearly whites, I wanna touch them in the dead of night, Your smile ignites just like a candlelight, Then somehow, I know everything's alright."

*** request: i smushed the two requests I got today together, so it's #2 "Five more minutes?" plus #11 "You fell asleep on me, I didn't want to wake you up." another prompt requested was smutty, which I am happy to do, but you should probably re-request. summary: a mediocre first date turns into something more intimate word count: 4.1k pairing: clayton keller x fem!reader warnings: none just teeth rotting fluff! notes: - I love my man clayton more than anyone else. i will always be happy to do any requests for him. - saw one of my grades grade drop from 92 to 76 today so I needed a full reset and I guess that reset was writing fluff! - based in Arizona because I'm still in denial

italics represent flashback

gif creds: keller-clayton i gave up putting gifs in my fics a while ago but LOOK AT HIM I JUST WANNA KISS HIS FACE ALL OVER. *** The last thing you remember was standing on that tenth hole of the mini-golf course, wondering if it was socially acceptable to call an Uber in the middle of a first date. Mini-golfing had felt more like a middle-school field trip than an actual adult date. And if your performance had been any indication, you weren’t exactly “fun at parties” material. By hole six, you were already praying for the windmill to sweep you off your feet and put you out of your misery.

You weren’t trying to be dramatic, but let’s be honest—you sucked. Badly. You didn’t just miss the hole; you missed the general direction. The ball took off like it had a personal vendetta against you, disappearing into the bushes half the time. By the tenth hole, you were seriously considering feigning a headache, or better yet, an existential crisis, to bail early. Maybe there was a black hole you could throw yourself into.

That’s when Clayton saved you.

Well, saved might’ve been a strong word. He asked, “Do you wanna ditch this whole thing and go back to my place?”

Cue all your alarms going off at once. Yeah, you knew exactly what that meant. First date, cozy house, late-night drinks—he wasn’t subtle. You were supposed to say no, laugh it off, maybe suggest a different venue.

Instead, you heard yourself agree.

You thought you’d stay for a bit, make a polite exit before things got weird. But then, you ended up at his house—a stupidly nice one, complete with a pool, basketball court, and palm trees that looked straight out of a vacation ad. Like, was this guy a finance bro? Or did he have one of those mysterious jobs where he’s always "working on something big?" Either way, it felt excessive.

Then came the wine. Hesitation turned into a sip, which turned into three glasses, and somewhere between one of his stories about traveling to Europe and your sarcastic commentary, you ended up on his lap, his hands–

“Am I the asshole for-”

Immediately, the noise cuts out, and you hear a soft curse coming from… under you? “Shit!” Clayton hisses, taking a deep breath which you feel completely. 

You stir, blinking against the sunlight spilling in through unfamiliar curtains. For a second, you can’t quite place where you are. Your brain is doing that sluggish, half-awake thing where it refuses to connect dots. All you know is that you’re warm, too warm, and there’s something solid beneath you.

Wait, why is your pillow breathing?

Your eyes snap open fully, and sure enough, there’s Clayton—underneath you. You’re sprawled across his chest like some kind of human blanket, legs tangled with his, your face smushed into the crook of his neck. Casual. Totally normal. Just your typical Saturday morning human pretzel situation.

Oh god.

Panic prickles up your spine, and you stay perfectly still, trying to figure out how you got here. You remember the mini-golf—barely—and the way you’d been one sad swing away from asking if he had a time machine to rewind you out of the entire evening. Then there was his house, the wine, his stupidly perfect jawline. And… oh right, that situation.

Your mind goes from zero to a hundred in seconds, racing to catch up with reality. You’re on top of him. Like, full-body contact, face-in-his-neck, can-feel-his-breath-on-your-skin kind of on top of him. Oh god, what the hell happened last night? Did you…? No. No, you remember now. Mostly. You didn’t sleep with him. Right?

You chance a glance at his phone screen out of the corner of your eye, and yup—he’s casually scrolling through TikTok like this is the most normal thing in the world. Like you're not literally draped across him like some kind of half-conscious sloth. The soft, muffled sound of a Reddit story video plays from his phone, but it's drowned out by the thunderous beat of your pulse in your ears. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath you, steady, calm, like you didn’t just wake up using him as a human mattress.

How long have you been like this? How long has he been awake? He’s obviously been up long enough to decide that reaching for his phone was preferable to trying to extricate himself from your limpet-like hold. You mentally groan. So, what now? Do you play it off? Pretend to still be asleep until he leaves? Just roll off him dramatically and flee the house?

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to vanish into thin air, but no such luck. You're still here, still on top of him, still melting into the soft heat of his skin.

How the hell did this happen?

And then, like a bad movie montage, it all comes flooding back. He’d pulled you onto his lap, his hands steady on your hips as if they’d always been there. The warmth of his touch had sent shivers down your spine, and you weren’t sure if it was the wine or something else entirely making your head spin. You could still feel the smooth drag of his palm as it slipped under your shirt, fingers teasing along the curve of your back. Your heart had been racing so fast you were pretty sure he could hear it.

“You’re—uh—comfortable?” you’d asked, your voice coming out breathier than you’d intended.

Clayton had chuckled, that low, rumbling sound that made your stomach flip in ways you weren’t proud of. “Very.” And then, without another word, his lips were on yours, soft but insistent, like he was waiting for you to tell him no.

But you hadn’t. At least, not at first.

Instead, you'd leaned into him, your hands slipping into his hair, tangling in the soft strands as the kiss deepened. He tasted like wine and something sweeter, something that made your brain go a little fuzzy around the edges. You could feel the heat building between you, the way his fingers dug into your hips just a little harder, pulling you against him until you were practically straddling him.

For a moment, it had felt like this was exactly where you were supposed to be—right here, in his lap, his mouth on yours, and your body pressing into his like it was the only thing keeping you anchored to the earth. But then—then something in your brain had clicked back on, the fog lifting just enough for you to realize what was happening.

Your heart had stuttered. You’re definitely not in the right headspace for this

You’d pulled back, breathing hard, your forehead resting against his. “I—um—maybe we should…” You hadn’t known how to finish the sentence, and your words had tumbled out in a mess of half-started thoughts and awkward pauses. Clayton had stilled, his hands dropping from your waist instantly, his eyes searching yours with something like understanding.

“Yeah, of course,” he’d said, his voice soft, and you could tell he wasn’t mad, wasn’t pushing. He just…stopped.

And that’s where the details get a little blurry. You must have fallen asleep after that, the wine and the tension finally catching up to you.

And now, here you are, waking up on top of him like some kind of oversized cat, his phone buzzing softly beneath your ear as he doom scrolls some more.

You shift, just slightly, testing the waters. His hand, the one not holding his phone, brushes absently against your back in response. A lazy, absent-minded gesture, like he’s forgotten you’re there but also somehow hasn’t.

Is this... normal for him? Just scrolling through TikTok with a girl sprawled across him like he’s some sort of makeshift mattress? Maybe this is his thing. Maybe you’ve entered some weird new level of dating etiquette where waking up on top of your date is a normal, acceptable thing that people do.

You finally muster up the courage to move, rolling onto your side—slowly, carefully, like you’re disarming a bomb. Clayton’s arm, previously draped across your back, falls away, and you find yourself sitting next to him instead of on top of him. Progress.

He glances over, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since you’ve woken up. There’s no awkwardness, no tension, just a soft smile that somehow makes you want to crawl back into the crook of his neck and stay there forever.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice still rough from sleep, and you can feel it in your bones.

Oh god, you think. You are so screwed.

“Hey,” you mumble back, trying to sound casual but knowing full well your voice betrays you. Your throat is dry, and you really, really wish you could just dissolve into the couch.

Clayton lifts his phone. “You fell asleep pretty quick after the wine,” he says, like he’s giving you a status report. “Didn’t want to move.”

Oh no, that's fine, I love waking up like a koala in a tree, clung to a guy I barely know. It’s totally my thing, you think, but what comes out is a garbled, “Thanks. Uh, yeah. Long day.”

You can feel the heat creeping up your neck and spreading to your cheeks. The mini-golf disaster, the wine, the whole making-out-on-his-lap thing—it all feels like some weird fever dream. But here you are, awake, on his couch, and somehow still alive.

“Well,” he says, stretching slightly and glancing at the time on his phone, “if you want coffee or breakfast or anything… no rush.” There’s something about the way he says it, all nonchalant, that makes you think he’s done this before. You wish you could bottle up that confidence and chug it like an espresso shot. But then he continues, “Or… you could come back here?”

You stare at him for a beat, trying to process what just came out of his mouth. Come back here? Like, back to the human pretzel situation you’d just barely escaped from? There’s no way he’s serious. But when you look at him, his face is soft, his eyes sleepy in a way that makes your heart do an embarrassing little flip.

You blink, your brain scrambling for a response. You could say no. You could grab your things and make a polite-but-hasty exit, chalking this whole thing up to “well, that happened.” But then he shifts slightly, his hand still resting casually on the couch, so close to yours that the warmth of his skin is almost tangible. His voice is soft when he speaks again, barely above a murmur.

“Five more minutes?”

Oh. Oh, that’s unfair. He’s not playing fair. You can practically feel your resolve slipping through your fingers like sand. Five minutes? What kind of heartless person says no to that?

You glance down at his hand, at the way his fingers twitch just slightly like he's waiting for you to move. It’s such a simple invitation, but for some reason, it feels like the world’s biggest decision. Your internal monologue is in full gear, screaming at you to think this through, but your body betrays you almost immediately. Before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re leaning back into him, your head finding its way to the curve of his shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You can feel his breath catch just a little as you settle against him, and for a second, the room feels heavier, like the air itself is thicker. His arm instinctively comes around you, gentle but steady, pulling you just a fraction closer. His warmth seeps into your skin, and you’re not sure if it’s the leftover wine fuzzing your thoughts or the fact that you’ve somehow wound up here, in this moment, but for once, your brain doesn’t race to catch up. It just… stops.

His heartbeat is slow, steady, beneath your ear, and you feel like you’re floating in this weird bubble of peace, suspended between the moment you just left and the one you’re trying to make sense of now. His hand rests lightly on your back, his thumb absentmindedly tracing a soft pattern that sends tiny sparks up your spine. The room is quiet, save for the occasional hum of the air conditioner and the soft rustle of the sheets as he shifts to get more comfortable.

You can feel the weight of his chin resting against the top of your head, and it’s such a small thing, such a casual, barely-there gesture, but it feels like everything. You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him, the softness of the moment. This isn’t what you expected—hell, none of this is what you expected—but here you are, breathing him in, his chest rising and falling in time with yours.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, his voice rough with the remnants of sleep. You can feel the vibrations of it in your bones, deep and gentle, as if he’s scared of breaking the stillness.

You nod, but it’s not enough, not when your face is pressed into his shirt. “Yeah,” you manage to mumble, your voice muffled by the fabric. “I’m okay.���

More than okay, actually.

He hums softly in response, the sound a low rumble that makes you feel like you could stay like this forever. And maybe that’s what scares you. How easy this is. How comfortable it feels to be wrapped up in him like this, even after the absolute chaos of the night before. You can’t remember the last time you felt this… safe.

There’s a part of you that wants to analyze every little detail—wants to pick apart why you’re so comfortable in his arms, why you’re not sprinting for the door, why your heart is doing this stupid fluttery thing every time he shifts even the slightest bit. But instead, you let yourself just be.

For once, your brain doesn’t go into overdrive. For once, it doesn’t matter what happens next, or what the mini-golf fiasco meant, or whether you’ll see him again after this. All that matters is the quiet, the warmth of his chest under your cheek, and the way his fingers trail lazy circles on your back.

You’ve only known him for, what, a handful of hours? Yet somehow, this moment feels like the calmest you’ve been in a long time.

His phone buzzes again, and you feel him shift slightly beneath you, but he doesn’t check it. Instead, he tightens his hold on you just a bit, his arm pulling you closer until you’re tucked into him so securely that it’s almost hard to tell where you end and he begins. But suddenly, it starts to feel slightly suffocating, and you can’t help but try to ease the tension, even if it’s in a weird way. “I’m guessing you don’t go on dates often?” you try to joke, but it sounds largely breathy.

Clayton stiffens for a moment, like he’s been caught off guard by your question. You can feel it in the way his chest stops its steady rhythm under your cheek. The hand that had been tracing lazy circles on your back pauses mid-motion. For a split second, the comfortable cocoon of warmth and quiet you’d both been wrapped in feels like it’s stretched a little too thin, like the moment might crack under the weight of the question.

Then, he lets out this weird, choked laugh. It’s not exactly a hearty chuckle, more like the sound someone makes when they’ve been caught with their hand in the cookie jar and aren’t sure how to explain themselves. You shift, lifting your head slightly to look at him, and when you do, you’re met with a sight that almost makes you snort. Clayton—mister “I-have-a-stupidly-nice-house-and-know-exactly-what-to-do-with-my-hands-like-it’s-no-big-deal”—is blushing.

Blushing.

His cheeks are a shade of pink that would’ve been adorable under any other circumstance. But seeing him like this? The guy who confidently pulled you onto his lap last night and didn’t even blink? Yeah, it’s throwing you off, and the tiny, embarrassed laugh that bubbles out of you isn’t helping.

“I—uh—what?” He stammers, shifting awkwardly beneath you. His arm, the one that had been holding you so comfortably, suddenly feels unsure of itself, hovering like he’s debating whether to pull you closer or shove a pillow between you to create some much-needed distance.

You blink up at him, trying to hide your amusement. “The date. I mean… you don’t seem like the ‘mini-golf-and-wine’ type.”

His blush deepens, and he clears his throat, his gaze darting away from yours like he’s desperately searching for an escape route. “Yeah, well, uh… I don’t really do this often.”

You peek up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Not often, or not at all?"

He chuckles nervously, and it's not that smooth, rumbly laugh from last night. It's more like an awkward, I’m-really-not-used-to-this kind of sound. “Not at all?” he says, but it comes out like a question. His face flushes just a little, and you can’t help but smile at the fact that, despite owning a house straight out of a Malibu dream, he's clearly not as suave as he seemed.

“Wait, seriously?” You shift slightly, trying to get a better look at him, but this only makes him more flustered. His hand, which had been resting casually on your back, retreats to his side like it’s suddenly self-conscious. “But you have this”—you gesture vaguely at his ridiculous house, the pool you vaguely remember seeing through his sliding glass doors—"and you don’t date?"

Clayton looks like he wants to sink into the couch and disappear. He rubs his face with his free hand, groaning softly. “Yeah, I know it doesn’t make sense.” He hesitates, glancing at you before continuing, “I’m just… busy, I guess. Work and stuff.”

“Oh, work and stuff, how mysterious,” you tease, unable to resist poking fun at the vague excuse. “You make it sound like you’re Batman or something. Got a secret crime-fighting career on the side?”

His laugh this time is real, shaking off some of the tension. “If only. I mean, I could rock a cape…”

You grin, glad to see him relax, even just a little. “So, what’s the deal then? You have this nice house, you’ve clearly got some kind of job that lets you travel to Europe, and yet… no time to date?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you some kind of super-busy finance bro who’s married to the grind?”

Clayton cringes, but there’s a sheepish smile pulling at his lips. “No, no finance bro stuff. Just… um… sports?”

You stare at him, blinking slowly as the realization hits. "Wait… sports?" Your voice comes out more confused than you intended, and it lingers in the air between the two of you. Clayton shifts, his expression growing a little more sheepish, like he’s just admitted to something far more embarrassing. You raise an eyebrow, silently urging him to continue.

"Yeah," he finally mutters, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to work out the tension. “I mean, it’s not a big deal, but, uh… hockey. NHL, actually.”

You blink again, processing the words as they hang there. Hockey. NHL. Him.

“Wait, like… you’re a professional hockey player?" you ask, almost breathless. Your heart stumbles for a moment, and you try not to make a big deal out of it, but the surprise is clear in your voice. He nods, awkwardly.

"Yeah, but it’s not like I go around telling people that." He glances at you, gauging your reaction. His cheeks turn back to a faint pink, and suddenly, his earlier confidence from last night seems to vanish.

You squint at him, tilting your head. "Wait, so... you just let me ramble about mini-golf without dropping that bomb? Was this like a test or something?"

His eyes widen, and he waves his hands defensively, nearly knocking over the throw pillow. “No, no! It wasn’t a test!” His voice is frantic, trying to backpedal from your accusation. “I swear! I didn’t think it was relevant… I just—” He stops, rubbing his temples like he’s regretting this entire conversation. “It’s been a while, okay? I’m just… I’m just glad to have someone warm here for once that isn’t my dog.”

That soft confession hits you harder than you expected. The vulnerability in his words sinks into the quiet between you, and you find yourself melting into the moment. You smile softly, shifting in his arms to look up at him fully. There’s a warmth blooming in your chest, and it has nothing to do with the cozy blanket wrapped around you.

A professional hockey player? You’d barely noticed his muscles last night, all lean and casual under his t-shirt, too distracted by the chaos of mini-golf and his awkwardly charming attempts at flirting–better than your other Hinge dates. Now, though, the pieces are falling into place—his house, the sleek car, the fact that he was clearly trying so hard to make a good impression despite his obvious nerves. He wasn’t trying to hide his life from you… he was just so genuinely out of practice that he didn’t know how to navigate it.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look at him, your forehead still resting lightly against his shoulder as you tilt your head up. His face is flushed, and he’s staring down at you like he’s expecting you to bolt at any second.

You let out a breath, your fingers absently tracing the hem of his shirt where it’s bunched around your waist. “You really should’ve led with that, you know,” you tease, your voice light as you try to keep things from getting too serious. “Might’ve saved us both a lot of confusion.”

Clayton groans, burying his face in his hands for a second before dropping them back to his sides in defeat. “Yeah, well… I didn’t want to, like, make it weird,” he mutters, his blush creeping back up his neck. “I just—god, I’m really bad at this, huh?”

You can’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Nah, you’re not that bad,” you reply, your voice gentle. “Just… out of practice.”

The silence that follows is easy, the weight of his chin resting on top of your head once more as you both settle into the moment. His arm eventually returns to its place around you, his fingers grazing your back in slow, lazy circles, and you let yourself sink into the warmth of him again. It’s so soft, so quiet. It’s almost too perfect, really, like you’ve stumbled into some kind of dream you didn’t even know you wanted.

He clears his throat after a beat, his voice hesitant. “So… if I’m this bad at dating,” he says slowly, “Does that mean I’m not getting a second one?”

You blink, surprised, and tilt your head up to look at him again. His eyes are soft, full of that quiet vulnerability from before, and you feel your heart stutter in your chest. You weren’t expecting that, weren’t expecting him to be so earnest about wanting to see you again.

You open your mouth to respond, but your brain falters for a second. A second date? After everything last night? After finding out he’s an NHL player, of all things? But then his gaze catches yours, and there’s something in his eyes that makes it hard to say anything but yes.

“Well,” you say slowly, your lips curving into a teasing smile, “I guess that depends.”

“On what?” He tilts his head, genuinely curious.

“On whether or not our next date involves fewer golf clubs and more dogs.”

His face lights up, a real, boyish grin spreading across his features, and he lets out a soft laugh, the tension in his shoulders melting away. “Yeah, I can definitely do that,” he murmurs, his hand sliding up your back to rest just between your shoulder blades. He pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You’ll have to meet him first, though. He’s got final approval.”

You chuckle softly, the sound muffled against his chest. “Well, let’s hope I make a good impression, then.”

There’s another pause, and you feel his breath catch just a little as he presses his chin against the crown of your head again. “You’ve already made one,” he says quietly, almost like he doesn’t want you to hear it.

Your heart skips, your chest tightening in a way that feels both exhilarating and terrifying. There’s a softness here, a tenderness that you didn’t expect, and it’s seeping into the space between you like warm sunlight through a window. You’re not sure what this is yet, not sure where it’s going or what it means, but for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel like you have to know. You’re just… here, in the moment, wrapped up in him and the warmth of his arms, and that’s enough.

Maybe it’s more than enough.

[live-laugh-legolas]

What are the fellowship's favorite fall activities?

The fellowship’s favorite fall activities

Aragorn:

-This man loves a good bonfire

-He’s so proud of it too

-Does that dad thing of standing back to admire it with his hands on his hips

-He doesn’t like s’mores much but he teaches everyone how to toast the perfect marshmallow

-He loves roasted pumpkin seeds

-He would love a good hayride too

-He would enjoy helping Sam in the kitchen; and by helping I mean kind of being in the way and just doing what he is told

Legolas:

-He attends every farmers market and craft fair

-Ik these pop up all year really but I always see them most in fall

-Also not really an activity but he is constantly smelling the air

-Like you know when you first walk out the door and the cool air just carries the scent of the leaves?

-*sniff sniff*

-Not a fan of scented candles though

Gimli:

-Flannels

-This isn’t really an activity but he is always pumped to go full lumberjack aesthetic

-Will chop all the wood for Aragorns bonfires

-He refuses to go apple picking; Legolas made fun of him too much for not being able to reach

-Does love going to a pumpkin patch and picking the biggest pumpkin

-*slaps pumpkins as he walks by to “test the structural integrity”*

Boromir:

-First in line to get a pumpkin spice latte

-And he gets his Uggs out

-Man loves his comfort

-I imagine he has fond memories of going on a trail ride with Faramir

-It’s the perfect weather to take the horses out and it’s a beautiful view

Frodo:

-I think he likes horror films

-Like he will watch them anytime but in the fall he can convince his friends to watch too

-He isn’t scared by them; he hopes he will be but usually it’s too predictable

-He does not watch these films for a few years after coming home from the journey

-Chugs apple cider

-He would have those sticky gel window decor things that change with every season/holiday

Sam:

-He loves to be able to bake all the autumnal dishes

-Spice cake and pumpkin pie are chefs kiss in his mind

-He doesn’t care much about Halloween; instead he spends October preparing for Thanksgiving

-He also won’t admit it but that he enjoys when his friends mess up his leaf piles

-Like he will rake it up into a huge mountain of leaves just for Pippin to jump out of the nearby tree into the pile (btw leaves do not break your fall much. You will hit the ground)

Merry:

-This boy has the Halloween decorations out the second he steps on a crunchy leaf

-Fake spiderwebs EVERYWHERE (never puts them up after the events of lotr for Sam and Frodos sake)

-He also feeds the wildlife so they will be ready for winter (You’re not supposed to do this)

-He has fed a bear and was just casually friends with it (do not do this. I repeat, do not do this)

-Spooky season is very important to him and he takes it very seriously

Pippin:

-He carves pumpkins religiously every year

-Makes the pumpkin helmet

-And gives the innards to Sam so he can bake with them

-If he didn’t munch on it all while carving

-He loves jump in and/or run through leaf piles; but he won’t rake them himself because where is the fun in that?

Gandalf:

-He maybe doesn’t particularly enjoy this but he doesn’t dislike it initially

-But he finds himself in a corner maze

-The hobbits convinced him to go with them but he lost them about 10 minutes in

-He has been in the maze for 3 hours now and is no longer having a good time

-Grumbling and swearing at every dead end

-The hobbits better hide by the time he finds his way out (there is nowhere to hide; he will find them)

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Negotiations (Joe Goldberg x gn reader)

Summary: Joe puts you in the glass cage and makes you negotiate for your freedom

Warnings: typical creepy Joe behavior (implied stalking, obsessive behavior, kidnapping, etc.), the reader either doesn't understand the full gravity of their situation or just doesn't care

A/N: I realized I never officially wrote something for it so here y'all go (this was written super quickly so idk if it's any good or not)

"So I had to do it, you see. I had to get rid of them. I had to save you," Joe insisted frantically, sounding like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was you.

You'd woken up in the infamous glass cage underneath the bookstore he worked at, curiously looking around. The only thing you'd said so far was to ask where to you, to which he replied "somewhere safe". Talk about ominous.

"What if I need to go to the bathroom?" You spoke up suddenly, as you soon realized upon inspecting the inside of your new home that there wasn't a toilet. There was, however, a bucket.

"Well..." He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck as he avoided the question. It didn't take much for you to put two and two together.

You gave him a look that was a cross between disgust and disbelief. "I can't pee in a bucket, Joe."

"I'm sorry, but I can't just let you out." He felt bad, sure, but he had to do this. He had to make sure that you were safe, even if it meant making you a little mad at him.

Crossing your arms, you turned in the opposite direction, refusing to look at him. Clearly you weren't too fond of your new living arrangements and were choosing to pout.

"Oh, come on, it isn't that bad," he lied upfront as he watched you. It was that bad, actually. Using a bucket to go to the bathroom was pretty gross.

And now he was starting to feel bad for putting you in this kind of situation. Anger was one thing, that he could handle. He could brace himself against that, or he rationalize away your worries or fears, but you seemed less genuinely upset and more annoyed than anything else.

He let out a heavy sigh as he contemplated his options. You were ignoring him, and he just couldn't have that. "If I let you out, you have to promise not to run away from me or anything like that. Understood?"

As if on cue, you turned back to face him again, a look of hope in your eyes. "Really?"

Joe tried not to let out a laugh when he saw you get close to the glass and press your face against it. "Yeah, really. Just- you have to move in with me. I don't want you living alone anymore. And I have to know where you are at all times."

Sure, he knew he could just follow you like usual, but he wanted you to be able to trust him. "And there's certain people that I don't want you hanging around anymore. Deal?"

Oh, god, what was he saying? This was going to be too much to put on you all at once. He should've just started with one small thing and gone from there, he shouldn't have given you an entire list-

"Deal."

Your voice instantly cut through his thoughts. Part of him wanted to believe you, even if he was a little suspicious that you'd agreed so quickly. Then again, you seemed so sincere, trusting even, observing him the same way anyone who truly loved their partner would: like he was the only thing that mattered.

"Could you let me out now? I really need to go pee."

Rolling his eyes, he made his way over to the door of the cage and unlocked it, letting you out. "Remember what I told you, alright? I don't want to have to put you back in there," he tried to make himself sound stern, to show you that he wasn't playing around when he said that.

To his surprise, you responded by giving him a hug. "You're such a sweetheart, caring about me so much," you muttered affectionately.

He couldn't stop himself from melting into your touch. If this was an act, it was certainly working.

"I'll never, ever leave you."

God, you were going to be the death of him. "And I'll never let you go," he promised in turn.

He really meant it when he said that. He was never going to let you go. Not that you seemed to mind.

End notes: I don't know if this is any good or not honestly. I really wanted to write something for Joe but I was kind of at a loss for what exactly to write about so 🤷 send me some ideas though if y'all want

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[jean-dieu]

All my protag from Dragon Age!! An idiot, an idiot, a sweetheart.

With very important informations regarding them of course.

Below the cut is just me rambling about them with actual informations, you can ignore LMAO

Artemis Tabris is a city elf with a fierce personality. Extremely stubborn, he refuses to stay silent in front of whatever discrimination he and his people can face. He's extremely protective of his friends and his family. Of course, it was only a matter of time before he would do something that would put him in big troubble. When his wedding day is interrupted in the worst way possible, he seeks vengeance for all the women, not caring for the consequences. He was glad to become a grey warden, as he thought it would give him the opportunity to finally be properly respected and to protect his family more than ever. He did lack the proper discipline though, often just doing whatever he wanted to do. His main past time is annoying Alistair, mostly by rubbing his relationship with Morrigan in his face. It started as more or less of a fling, but he grew very attached to her in the end, even going as far as searching for her despite everything. In the end, he gives up, and ends up with Zevran instead, and the two men manage to find happiness in life.

"Nacht" Hawke will never say his real name because he thinks it's lame. No, he's a hero, he's the main character, he's so cool, so he gets to name himself. He's a sarcastic piece of shit. He loves to annoy Carver, and the two of them doesn't go along. Despite his many flaws, he values friendship more than anything. Varric is his bff for life, and at this point they probably have matching tramp stamps tattoos. He's fiercly pro-mage, not exactly like Anders. Nacht's point of view is just "I was born like this and I just think I deserve the right to live". He's in general very against people in position of powers and in favor of the common folks. There's not a day that goes with him and Fenris fighting then kissing right after. He resented Carver when he chose to join the Templar, but they both made peace in the end, agreeing that they'll never manage to get along, but accepting to protect each other because they're family.

Aloysius Lavellan would gladly do anything else instead of being the Inquisitor. Still, the weight of the world on his shoulders is too overwhelming to ignore, and he's doing his very best to lead the organization to success. What he lacks in leadership and charisma, he makes up with determination. Cullen is coaching him for public speaking, and Josephine to polish his public image. Aloysius is in general too soft and too gentle to be a leader. He's shy, introverted, anxious, and always wondering if he did the right thing. Still, with a bit of help, he actually manages to become a worthy leader, respected for his humility and overall kindness with his men. He still doesn't know how he managed to secude Iron Bull but he's very happy about it and he loves him so very much. He tends to be kind of naive but he's very knowledgable on the world. He knows everything about plants and can rambles about them for hours. He's friends with every companion. He's a great mage, and he's always eager to improve his skills and magic, and he's not the type of man to rest on his laurels.

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

.

[stuckinapril]

I love Tumblr because nothing matters here truly. There are no influencers. Having followers doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a site where people post their sporadic thoughts and rb pretty pictures. Anyone who thinks any of this matters is woefully missing the point

[anonymocha]

finally coming out as a dyke in 2023 is realizing i dont need to pretend to simp that Guy just because everyone else in my friend group does

[bacchuschucklefuck]

Ooh what's barbarian Figs subclass

m flipfloppin between giant and totem (def reskinned) for her rn! giant would be Really funny for junior year and there's some thematic stuff for the transformation element I think would be interesting, but just purely on a character basis I think fig would love totem esp. as a barbie girl in freshman year. if I land on totem I kinda imagine it like a wuxia animal style thing tbh, mostly just because the idea of someone coming into a fight expecting typical movie shaolin choreography and getting Teenager That Mauls You To Death is entertaining to me

[thelioncourts]

it's getting more and more difficult to engage in fandom as a large-scope community because the only thing that actually gains any kind of popularity is meme content created by people who 1) don't want to interact with the story as it's being presented 2) want to engage with dark content only when it fits the narrative they wish the entire story to have 3) truly have such a high level of media illiteracy that they view everything as a full-blown attack versus education/discussion. and it's frustrating because you'll see the most insanely inaccurate takes get regurgitated by the same 25 loud people who, in turn, influence the meme content that gets created (or the meme content is just being created by those same 25 loud people) and so the meme content is a direct reflection of the level of thought/analysis being put into said fandom and it makes the memes not even funny, just caricatures of what they could be. and everyone is so bent out of shape at the thought of being told they're incorrect, that they're wrong, that conversation is impossible because they're so determined to do anything to showcase their assumed superiority as opposed to learning and listening in any kind of capacity.

I'm not saying anything that hasn't been said by people much more eloquent than me, but it sucks so much watching stories that are truly complex and that have so much work put into them be reduced to twitter popularity controlled by people who don't know what they're talking about.

[butterflieswhisper]

hhelp wait this is so funny. didnt you follow me forever ago after a scott themed october song analysis . sorry if you dont remember that and this ask doesnt make sense but this is still funny to me

hi!!!! yeah. it was the cherri crane lives art i think and also where you made your flower husbands tag! I have never really interacted with fh outside of you (and like, seeing pretty fanart) but i am nonetheless deeply invested in your interpretation specifically!!! I honestly haven't watched jimmy outside of rats and the beginning of empires2 either i genuinely have no clue what they get up to you just seem to have a lot of fun with it

[sexynetra]

Hi Rachel, I'm so sorry that happened to you... It's crazy because with the fics we've been living in a world of characters, not bothering the real people with them. Hope you feel better! Also, Marcia deleting the tweet kinda means she cared enough to not spreading the negativity towards you.

Thank you 💕 I’ve been very careful about keeping the two separate so this was. Very uncomfortable and demoralizing. But everyone has been so sweet and supportive (on here I am not looking at twitter you can’t pay me enough) and I have a lovely support system and I have decided I am not letting a shitty hating ass bitch who literally READ my novel length story keep me from writing this story I’ve dedicated so much time and blood and sweat and tears into. I’m really grateful Marcia deleted the tweet. I don’t know her intentions posting it and I don’t know her intentions deleting it but I’m glad she did it quickly and I hope that if she had a genuine issue with fic being written about her she would actually say something serious about it and I would of course listen and respect that! But for now. The post is down (from her), people here are helping keep me afloat, and this is all just a blip that will blow over soon (I’m praying)

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

I don’t know if you already said this elsewhere, but did the Zenin ever hurt Megumi in a way it simply wasn’t possible for them to explain? Like being poisoned or bitten by one of the dozens curses? Did Gojo catch them red handed (the red is literally megumi’s blood💀)?

The first time that they hurt him in a way that they couldn’t explain away was the last time they hurt him, because Gojo immediately cut them off and refused to ever let them ever get near Megumi again. The Zenin didn't fully realize this at the time they had custody, but legitimately the only reason why it got as far as it did was because Gojo didn't know.

They weren’t exactly advertising “yeah we beat him when we have him” to him, but it wasn’t exactly because they thought gojo would put a stop to it, per se. They didn’t tell Gojo anything they did to Megumi because they felt absolutely entitled to him. They didn’t want Gojo’s input or interference, and they didn’t like feeling like they had to ask for permission around this with Megumi. But they didn’t think he actually would cut them off from him.

In the Zenin’s mind, Gojo doesn’t love Megumi. He’s never loved Megumi. Megumi’s just a political pawn to him, a way to insult the Zenin and steal their most valuable technique for his own. And he got way more value from letting them see him. He got to have his influence on someone who was very likely to be clan head one day—if Megumi’s cut off from them entirely, he’s not moving towards being clan head. He got a bargaining chip with the Zenin—he could further his own goals by offering them more time with him. Megumi’s a powerful piece of leverage but only if Gojo actually uses him. Him intervening to protect Megumi by severing all contact doesn’t further his own goals, so when it all came to a head, they pretty blindly assumed that he wouldn’t give a shit about what they had just done to Megumi, because at the end of the day, they thought he was going to keep using Megumi for his own ends, which meant giving them access.

Instead, Gojo immediately pulled the plug on the entire situation. They never touched or saw him again. The first time that Megumi saw them after the incident that made them go no contact was when Naoya came to pick him up at his school.

[racc00ning]

thinking of changing my blog layout... feeling silly... thinking about Red Things and Raccoons and Pretty Flowers. :3

(also realized I should probably make an intro Post for the blog? bc we use this blog way more than we do our other side blogs and they have full out intros, so-)