#I woke up to tumblr exploding

[listenerofpodcasts]

mousey ‼️

[not-quite-humann]

[joyfuladorable]

Kinda wish I could mute posts on here, lol

Edit: okay, I actually can mute thank the GODSSSS

[neroushalvaus]

Tumblr in the 60s

☮ monkeewholock follow

🎉🎉CONGRATULATIONS UNITED KINGDOM 🎊🎊🎉🎉🎉🎉BYE BYE GROSS INDECENCY!!!!🌈🌈🌈 62 countries have now legalized sexual activities between men🌈🌈🌈

🐞 homophilespock follow

SPIRK CAN FINALLY FUCK

🚀 starrfleet follow

They are American, not British... But I'm pretty sure spirk has always been able to fuck since the show is set in the future.

📻 lesbianbobdylan follow

Christ, this is not about your cutesy uwu yaoi otp, go outside and smoke some grass

10,8 t. notes

🌻 flowerpower follow

Politicians are not your friends but damn Kennedy is fine, I look at one (1) picture of him and my head literally explodes

🌻 flowerpower follow

...i just woke up, why is my askbox full

🌻 flowerpower follow

WHY IS HE TRENDING I'M SCARED

🌻 flowerpower follow

guys stop reblogging this it's been like five years i've changed

290,9 t. notes

🎹 nixonsafascist follow

do you think they call him little richard because he has a little. Richard

🎹 nixonsafascist follow

easy website

58,1 t. notes

🇻🇳 shirellesofficial follow

Being the only lesbian in your friend group sucks so bad. "beatles or stones??" i will kill you

🗣 lavendermenaceisreal-deactivated72537262

Disrespecting female social groups for male validation? Typical lesbian behaviour.

🇻🇳 shirellesofficial follow

Mike Jacker isnt gonna fuck you

🇻🇳 shirellesofficial follow

Oh no I think she couldn't handle that

77 notes

✌ draftdodgerdyke

DM me for the addresses of my Swedish and Canadian friends. Do not put your personal information in the reblogs.

🙍‍♀️ silvermilk follow

You should be ashamed of yourself.

✌ draftdodgerdyke

huh??

🙍‍♀️ silvermilk follow

I said, you should be ashamed of yourself. You disgust me. I assure you, when the commies attack us, you will not find your silly little post "groovy" anymore.

✌ draftdodgerdyke

Jesus, don't flip your wig

🙍‍♀️ silvermilk follow

My father fought in ww2 for you ungrateful degenerate.

✌ draftdodgerdyke

Don't see what your daddy's unsexiness has to do with me and my lads taking a sexy sexy trip to Sweden.

#anyway only hot guys dodge the draft

587 notes

🪕 prostitutesandlesbians follow

in every interview i watch of the beatles they are so DONE and trolling everybody, these fucking annoying BITCHES, i need them inside me so badly

🪕 prostitutesandlesbians follow

#this but not john lennon #i just can't forget the heinous things he said about jesus

idk I actually think it was very sexy of him, stop trying to cancel john in my post

✝️ jesusrevolution follow

The reading comprehension on this website is piss poor. John literally didn't mean he was greater than Jesus or better than Jesus, he was just trying to make a point about the world becoming more secular. Cancel culture has gone too far.

🚷 to-hell-with-the-beatles follow

How dare you say we piss on the poor?? Jesus died for Mr Lennon's sins and it's not "cancelling" to send him a few respectably worded death threats to remind him of that. He cancelled our Lord first!

✝️ jesusrevolution follow

Girl Jesus literally said it's cool, I dropped acid yesterday and saw Him and He told me.

🪕 prostitutesandlesbians follow

help the girls (christians) are fighting in my beatles thirst post

6,008 notes

🛼 donovandyke follow

I will be glued to the tv today. If you don't want to hear about it, just blacklist #moonlanding !!

0 notes

🗣 claudeberger4ever-deactivated98975287

Hi I'm new to the Hair musical fandom so I'm not super invested in the whole discourse, but I just felt like this needed to be said: Friendly reminder that not being against the war in Vietnam does not make you a bad person!

🥁 ringoforpresident follow

it literally does tho

✌ draftdodgerdyke

Another win for us hot guys

17,2 t. notes

[transmalewife]

ever since i saw a call out post for someone that mentioned hey watch out they’re trying to raise money* rn so they’re about to start adding meaningless comments to every popular post going around so more people see their url and potentially follow them, i can’t stop noticing how many annoying big tumblrs will add stupid bullshit in the comments of every single thing they reblog. like up to just adding nothing but “yeah” signed with their name permanently to the reblog chain. like this really could have stayed in the tags. makes you think

*raising money for an extremely petty reason that i won’t specify but was certainly not a necessity or emergency. like something so stupid i guarantee you’ve never seen anyone else ebeg for that

[pomefioredove]

boop

summary: booping them + their reactions type of post: headcanons characters: third years additional info: is short, platonic or romantic, reader is gender neutral author's note: this would've been good to post for the tumblr april fool's event but I missed out so you're getting it now instead!

𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐲 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

hmm... okay!

trey often navigates his interactions with other students based on his interactions with his siblings

there's an order to human behavior, after all

especially with the underclassmen shenanigans (he's really seen it all at this point; don't ask)

none of his siblings, however, have walked up to him unannounced and booped his nose

not yet, at least?

it seems to make you happy though, so he just smiles

half of his job as vice housewarden is "going along with it"

he's pretty used to nonsense

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

he's editing something on his phone the first time you try and doesn't even notice it

...and the second time, and the third

it becomes a sort of routine for you

tentatively trying to see how many times you can get away with it before he finally notices and says something

and it only spirals from there, of course

you'll up to him while he's talking to someone else, boop him, and walk away

(much to the other person's confusion)

does he notice? yeah, of course

do you need to know that he notices? ...maybe not

he likes the attention, just let him have this one

𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫 ⋆˚⸙˖°༄✩⊹

he gnaws your hand off

okay, not really. too messy for him

(and the consequences would be such a headache to deal with...)

but he is all grumpy because you woke him up for that

"What was that supposed to be? -_- Don't do that again,"

rolls over and goes back to sleep

you're lucky he reacted as nonchalantly as he did tbh, lions don't like being pet, and he could've kicked you out of his room in a heartbeat for that

(maybe you get a special pass to be annoying)

note to you: don't do that again

𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭 ˚⊹˚₊🕊 ˚✧ ₊

boops you back right away

does he necessarily know what that means? no, but he'll find out soon enough anyway

and based off your body language and expression it seems like a gesture of affection

...which he's all too happy to return

(he's so excited to be touching you affectionately he could explode)

now every time you see each other you end up going back and forth for hours

"boop!" "boop!" "boop!"

that's one sure way to give Vil a headache

(you may or may not end up temporarily banned from Pomefiore for disturbing the peace)

𝐕𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐭 ˚⊹˚₊🕊 ˚✧ ₊

you'd assume he gets annoyed, right?

well, he's a little surprised at first (people just don't go around touching him, after all)

then he just smiles

"Remember what we said about asking before touching, hm?"

you're lucky he thinks you're cute

(if not a little strange)

like, so lucky

congratulations on being the only human on earth who gets away with casually touching his face like that

𝐈𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 ₊✩‧₊˚⊹༄˚₊모‧₊

well. what do you expect

his eyes widen and his face (and hair) go pink and he internally freaks out (but externally just stands there)

"Um... What was that for?"

Idia might be a little more familiar with the conventions of a boop than anyone else

it's what you do to adorable little animals, right? like kitties and puppies?

so... why are you doing it to him?

if you say you "just felt like it" he might believe you

if you say it's because you think he's cute he will be avoiding you for the rest of the month

good luck!

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐚 ✩⁺₊°⊹ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ☽｡°⊹

blinks.

has zero clue what you meant by that

but you seem happy with yourself so it couldn't have been a bad thing, right?

"I'm unfamiliar with that gesture. Is that a greeting from your home?"

you explain that it's a sort of affection you show towards cute things

"Oh, well... you're quite brave. I'm honored,"

he's definitely all sunshine and rainbows for the rest of the week

he's all but giggling and kicking his feet back and forth

no one really questions him

and he doesn't really explain

(if Sebek finds out you booped the heir to the throne of Briar Valley as if he were a kitty cat he will gnaw your hand off)

𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐞 ✩⁺₊°⊹ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ☽｡°⊹

pleasantly surprised, doesn't even question it

he is adorable, after all, he can't blame you for wanting to be affectionate with him

boops you back, of course

after all, aren't you just the cutest thing too?

if you try to walk away after booping him he will find you to return the favor

will somehow make it a competitive sport

waiting for you around corners, hiding in every nook and cranny so that he might catch you by surprise and boop you

(he is totally keeping count of who's ahead)

it makes the school a warzone for like a solid week before Silver's pleas to "please be normal about the prefect" finally work

(AKA Lilia gets bored of it and finds another way to be close to you)

[velvetvexations]

i was listed in the original transandrophobia truthers blocklist by transmisogyny/-/explained. i was 15 with a tiny blog of 6 followers and i had only dipped my toe into transandrophobia theory and reblogged like 4 posts about it. i woke up one day to over 200 followers and saw that i had been tagged in the blocklist. i appeared in the second tmra blocklist too, but not in any others. but like it shook me enough to basically shut me up about transandrophobia. i suffer from mild paranoia but suddenly exploding in recognition triggered a bad paranoia episode. i had lots of harassing anons and i didn't know what to do. i was on tumblr to have fun, i saw someone talking about the specific challenges transmascs face and it really resonated with me so i reblogged a few posts about it, i had zero idea how much drama surrounded transandrophobia until i was in the fucking blocklist. and now i can't speak about it on my blog because of the paranoia it triggers.

transradfems are saying that callout posts against them are transmisogynistic but then the tmra blocklists have hundreds if not thousands of notes and bully people like me into shutting up. it's so hypocritical

I'm sorry, I know what it's like to have paranoia stuck in you real deep after you've been harassed like that. I'm still dealing with what I went through on Tumblr over a decade ago. Your voice matters and I hope you feel comfortable expressing your opinions in the future, but even if you keep your head down you're still a good person who didn't deserve the scars they gave you.

[peachesofteal]

Leave

Part two the Sassy Series but can be read as a standalone.

Simon Riley/female reader 3.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Angst, PTSD, canon typical violence, bombs, blood and injury. Smut, oral sex - fem receiving, praise kink, creampie. Unplanned pregnancy. Everyone is bad at feelings. He's like a bomb. Note: This was never posted to Tumblr, so in honor of the series and to complete the masterlist I decided to clean it up a bit and bring it over here.

The truck is a silent tomb.

Rigid, hard lines of muscle hold themselves still without quiver, eyes darting from the road to the floor, hands to feet. No one speaks. Soap’s fingers tap restlessly on his leg, and occasionally, he peeks around before refocusing his vision on something in the distance, something you’re not even sure exists.

The only one really looking at anyone, is Ghost. He’s staring daggers at you in the rearview mirror, fire blazing in his irises, heat so intense it forces your head down towards your knees. Even Gaz looks away from you now, occasionally nudging his thigh against your own, but keeping his gaze fixed out the window.

You’re fucked.

Simon explodes as soon as you’re all unloaded inside the gates. He detonates like a bomb, raw fury rippling through the air, impact radius large enough that it sends nearly everyone else scurrying. “Sass.” Your call sign is rough on his lips. He motions for you to step away, forcing you out from where you’re lurking close to Soap, rage, and something else, something secret, simmering beneath the surface, something you barely glean a glimpse of when he towers over you.

“Ghost. Listen-“ you hiss, fingers flying to push his hulking body away, anger boiling in your blood. He scoffs, like you’re so easily dismissed. Like you’re a child.

“You’re losin’ it Sass. I don’t know, and I don’t care how you used to operate, but we don’t pull shit like that in the 141.”

“Fuck you, Sim-“

“Don’t use my name right now.” The paint around his eyes is cracked, revealing small swaths of skin, the crinkle of crow’s feet. “You had no idea what you were doing out there!” He yells, and you snap backwards instinctively. “You were operating blind, like a fuckin’ idiot. Cap, and everyone else, seems to think you’re a world class operator but today all I saw was stupidity. Are you stupid, Sass?” His raised voice has captured Soap’s attention, who drifts closer and closer to where the two of stand. “I asked you a question.” Ghost snaps, and you want to melt into the ground.

“No.” you whisper. It’s too much. This is too much. 

“Then why would you do something like that?” He snarls, and you shy away. You’ve never seen him like this. You’ve seen him ruthless, cold blooded, laser focused on target. You’ve watched him shove a pistol in another man’s eye socket and pull the trigger, torture someone, and in the same breath, turn around and save a child from a burning building.

But you’ve never seen this. Gunpowder and rage. Metal and carnage.

You’re about to ask him what the hell his problem is when Soap steps between you both, hand out towards Ghost like he’s trying to gentle a scared animal.

“Take it easy, LT.” You use the distraction to make your escape before he can see the tears that are trying slip down your face.

Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry. 

“D’ye wan’ talk about it?” Soap sits with a thud next you, soft blue eyes shining in the setting sun.

“I think you got the gist.”

“LT can be kind of intense, but don’t take it personally.”

Don’t take it personally. 

Don’t take it personally that last week he was shoving his cock down your throat, telling you how good you were. 

Don’t take it personally that last week, when you woke up sweating and shaking, he pressed his face to yours with a whisper. “Just a nightmare Sass, I’ve got you.”

Don’t take it personally, that five, six months ago in Belize, he was screaming in a field medic’s face, promising to hurt them if you died. 

Don’t take it personally. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He shrugs, slapping you on the back playfully.

“Get some sleep, lass.” Across the gap between two tents, Price and Ghost stand with their arms crossed, murmured words drifting on the wind.

Price glances at you. His mouth moves. Ghost nods, and then leaves.

Great. 

A day passes, then another.

Then a week, then two.

Ghost- Simon, vanishes from your life. Evacuates whenever he sees you coming. At first, you tried to run him down, tried to corner him, get him to talk to you, but he’s too smart, applying his tactical prowess to his new mission: avoiding you at all costs.

One day, you catch sight of his retreating back around a corner and sprint after him, calling his name, not his call sign.

He ignores you.

He’s not Simon anymore, at least not to you. He’s Ghost.

You give up. You have enough sense to know when you’re not wanted.

“Sassafrass!” Johnny gleefully calls out as you duck into the ten for the briefing. Ghost tenses like he’s just stepped on a landmine, but you roll your eyes. Dickhead. You position yourself as far away from him as possible, just to the right of Soap, out of view.

He doesn’t even look at you anymore, anyway. Not like it matters. 

“It’s an easy extraction, get in, grab the target, get out. Don’t over complicate it.” You nod your understanding, and Price gives you a smile. “Sassy, you and Soap will tackle the southeast side of the building from the back door. Gaz and Ghost will come through north. We’ll meet in the middle.” Again, you nod, and Soap grins at you like a goofy faced teenager. “Alright. Let’s load up.” You shimmy your backpack high above your hips and roll your shoulders, partially listening to your partner’s excited, halfcocked thesis on entry tactics.

It's the behavior that catches your attention. The guy looks nervous, skin gleaming with the sickly sheen of anxious sweat, tense and poised, like he’s waiting for something.

You’ve seen it before. Too many times.

“Soap.” You whisper. Your tone is dead serious, and he turns with a question in his eye.

“What’s got ye spooked?” Your gaze flicks over to the guy you’ve flagged. You shake your head, just as your target is swinging his backpack around and unzipping the top pouch.

You try to warn Soap.

You press your comm and try to tell the 141.

You manage to do neither before the world explodes.

Your eyes open to pandemonium. People are screaming. Kids are crying. You can hardly see, debris and smoke from the explosion making your eyes water and practically blotting out the sun.

There’s blood on your face.

Everyone is scattered. The screaming echoes around you, mirroring the screaming in your mind.

Where are you? 

Your comm’s been knocked loose. Your gun is gone.

Your body is not your own. It’s acting on instinct. Fight. Flight. Push. Pull.

It shoves everything down. Everything your brain can’t compartmentalize right now gets locked away in a dark place. You can feel it all, later.

Right now, you have to survive.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Soap yells over the noise, snapping you out of autopilot. He’s somewhere behind you, sense of relief making you dizzy when you turn and see him crouched next to a large chunk of concrete. Thank fuck.

“Johnny? Shit.”

“Yeah. Shite. What was that?”

“A bomb.” You say, dryly. He gives you a dirt look.

“We’ve gotta split, lass.” The ground has a unique dirt pattern to it. The grains are all a different size, different shades of reds, greys, brown. Where are you? They work together, forming a chaotic design, one blanket of earth, dust and dirt swirling together and- where are you, where are you, where- “Sassy!” Soap’s face careens into your point of view. It looks distorted. You jerk backwards, the quick movement making your head spin. “You okay?”

“Where are we?” The words stick to the roof of your mouth. He gives you an odd look.

“Hey, Sassy. You alright?”

“I’m good. Yeah. All good.” A pause. A deep breath. A denial. “You got comms?”

“Negative.”

“Great.”

Johnny is bleeding. You didn’t notice right away, but the crimson stain spreads under his shirt near his hip, and your panic returns, ice slowly spreading through your veins, threatening to freeze you where you stand.

“You’re hurt.” You pat his shoulder, and he nods.

“We’ve got to find the others. Or the truck.”

You can’t find the god damn truck. You have no comms. No guns, only your combat knife and two grenades between the two of you, and Soap is actively bleeding.

It looks bad.

It feels even worse.

“Maybe we should just sit tight.” He grunts, and you startle.

“Yeah. Yeah, Johnny. Let’s just sit here, in the middle of active territory, with no comms, no guns, in the middle of the street. When you’re fucking bleeding out from your gut.” You snap. Confusion flickers across his face. You never snap at him. Gaz? Maybe. Ghost, yeah. Even Price sometimes. But never Johnny. “Sorry. Sorry, Soap. My head is still spinning from the blast.”

“It’s alright, lass.” His voice is calm, smooth. You can feel him watching you from the corner of your eye before he straightens, head turning the other direction. “There’s a hostel, a few clicks down the road. Want to give it a go? They probably have a phone.” You look at him, and then down the length of your own body, tallying and subtracting, plus or minus the odds.

Fuck it. 

It’s not very far, but it feels like a full days’ walk. Your head is still buzzing, proximity to the blast too close, too much, too familiar. It’s scrambled your brain, and you find yourself trying to focus on the back of Soap’s head, breathing through your nose. One foot in front of the other.

Somewhere, a block or two away, a car backfires.

Your muscles flex, and you flatten against the side of the building. Soap is talking to you, but you’re immobile, and you can’t hear him. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Something kickstarts in the back of your brain and your feet move. You give him a nod.

The woman behind the desk is terrified of you. Her eyes go round when you approach, gesturing to the phone, and she hands it over immediately, nervously looking between you and Soap, who’s slumped over in a plastic chair, bleeding.

You dial the number you know by heart without pause.

Soap is leaning against you when the truck roars around the corner, dust fogging the air beneath its wheels. He’s doing alright, your rudimentary medical skills coming in clutch when you decided to pack his wound as you waited, and the woman at the desk kindly gave you some towels for pressure. You flag them down, Price white knuckled behind the wheel, familiar skull mask in the seat next to him.

Your heart sinks.

He’s going to kill you.

When he jumps from the passenger seat, he looks anything but angry. His eyes are frantic behind the mask, wide and darting from you to Soap, pulling him from your side into his as you get closer.

“Johnny.” He says gruffly, and Soap cracks a smile.

“S’all good, Sassafrass patched me up.” He groans, and Ghost loads him into the backseat, sliding in beside him as you take the spot up front.

You’re numb. Price is asking you questions, and you’re answering as best you can, surprised when he seems satisfied after the play the play. He even says you’ve done well, the praise from your captain warming a little spot in your cold body. You nod robotically, shallow smile on your face, and check on Soap in the rear-view mirror, relieved that he’s got good color in his cheeks, still breathing.

You catch Ghost’s eyes in the reflection. They burn into you from behind the mask, pulling you apart to see inside. He doesn’t blink, and you turn away, uneasy.

You stumble away from everyone after you give Johnny a pat on the head. He’s still smiling, and squeezes your hand affectionately, medical team carting him away to receive actual care.

He’s fine. We got here in time. 

You’re staring at the blood in the sink when someone tries the door handle. After it doesn’t budge, a heavy fist thumps against the thin plywood.

“Someone’s in here.” You croak. The fist bangs again, and you sigh, swinging it open to tell whoever it is to go away.

Except, it’s Ghost standing on the other side.

“Fuck off.” The bewildered words come easily, and his eyes narrow. He shoulders through the door, slamming it shut, large hands gripping onto your shoulders and then tugging you into chest, heavy arms pressing you so tight into him that you’re having trouble breathing.

Your heart flips over.

He holds you, in silence, for a moment that feels like a decade. The balaclava scuffs along the top of your head, and he steps back, still clutching you by the arms, looking you up and down.

“Where are you hurt?” He shifts, thumb stroking a tender spot above your temple where you have a scratch, pulling the wet cloth in your grip free and dabbing it to the side of your head gently. 

“N-no. I’m not. Just Soap. I’m fine.”

“Good. That’s… that’s good.” You stare like he’s grown two heads.

“Ghost.” You’re cautious, unsure. Confused. You don’t know what’s happening, why he’s standing in the bathroom, caressing your face, helping you clean up. He holds the cloth under the tap, bringing it back up to your cheek. “Ghost.” You try again. Nothing. Finally, you try; “Simon.”

His hand stops moving. He’s as still as marble in the bathroom, lungs frozen in his chest.

He’s looking into your eyes with a long, dizzying gaze that has your own stunned wide, unable to blink, unable to look away.

Until he lunges for you.

He snatches you by the waist, dragging you out the bathroom and hoisting you over his shoulder. You yelp. “Simon, what the fu-“

“Hush.” He swats your ass like you’re a petulant child, beelining for your tent.

Sometime in the night, when the base is somewhat quiet and the lamp light has dimmed, he folds you in half on the threadbare mattress, pressing your legs back towards your ear, eyes trained on where your cunt flutters for him, clenching around nothing as you wriggle and try to press your thighs together for friction.

“None of that. Be good.” He admonishes.

“Simon. Please.” You’re not too proud to beg in this moment, that’s what nearly dying will do to you. You need him.

He sinks to his knees, still framed between your legs, and rolls the bottom of the balaclava to his nose.

It’s the first time you’ve ever really seen the skin on his face in such a large amount. No paint. No skull. No black cloth. Just his jaw, broad and sharp. His lips, full and wet, flash of tongue darting out from behind his teeth, mouth hot against your pussy, thumbs spreading you open to have his fill.

“There she is.” He murmurs, lips on your clit like a lover’s kiss. His tongue seeks your swollen nub under its hood, and it’s so much, warmth of your body, his face, all of it melting into your skin. Your heel pushes against the mattress as you rock your hips up into his mouth and he chuckles, a hand pressing down on your lower belly. “You taste good, Sass.” You clench, twitching, getting close, orgasm barreling through your nerves, body moving in tandem with each swipe of his tongue, muscles seizing-

He pulls away, hand wiping his face and rocking backwards on his knees.

“What the fuck?” You screech, propping yourself up on your elbows. He’s loosening his belt, and you can’t resist reaching, wrapping your fingers around the throbbing length of his cock. He snatches your hand away, holding you by your wrist and bending you back down, laying his weight on top of you and pushing inside your cunt with a single thrust. It’s been months, yet your body yields to him immediately, aching burn fizzling out as your walls flutter and you whine.

“My girl.” He moans, fucking into you like a man starved. “My good girl.” You stutter out a response, some jumbled nonsense that sounds like his name, sounds like Simon. “My sweet girl, takin’ my cock like you were made for it.” He rears back, pulling your leg to his shoulder, foot dangling next to his ear.

“Fuck, Simon. Don’t- don’t stop please-“ His thumb continues in a circle on your clit, pleasure shooting through your muscles.

“Are you going to come?” you nod furiously, eyes clenched shut. “Look at me.” He bears down on you, gripping your face, and you find his usual guarded gaze nowhere, nothing between the two of you, just two raw currents slamming against one another they’re sparking. You can’t look away.

He thumbs your clits hard, giving you more as he thrusts, rising crescendo forcing insane noises from your mouth, sounds you don’t even recognize, gasping as your orgasm rolls over you like you’ve been hit by a truck. You tighten around him like a vice, and he swears, burying himself deep, walls pulsing around him, pulling his orgasm into you with ease.

You both slips into uneasy sleep, his body wrapped around yours so tight it almost hurts. Your dreams are broken, shattered fragments of bombs from past and present; voices screaming, friends pleading. You scream, pain and fear scratching under your skull, an attack, and bombardment you didn’t see coming. He holds you, soothes you, kisses you, still tense, coiled, ready to spring if need be.

“I got you, Sass. I’m here.” His voice is soft in the dark, fingers smoothing the sweat dampened skin of your face. “I’ve got you.”

Two days later, he rips the rug right out from under your feet.

“What the FUCK is this?” you brandish the stack of papers in your hands at Simon, who sits calmly in the corner of the tent. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t acknowledge your shrieking, your voice reaching frantic pitches of incredulity.

“Can’t have you here.” He says simply, like that’s all the explanation that’s needed. You’re vibrating, rattling with fury, with fear.

“You reported an intimate relationship with Price, to get rid of me?” His eyes narrow behind the mask, but he doesn’t deny you. “Oh my fucking god, Simon.” You laugh, and it’s sour, spoiled. Rotten, like the sickness that’s turning your stomach. This has to be a joke.

“I can’t have you here.” He repeats himself like a broken record, before he’s on his feet and heading for the exit.

“Simon!” You hiss at his retreat, but it’s far too late. It’s too late for all of this. He’s already gone.

He doesn’t come to say goodbye. Johnny shuffles out to the airfield to give you a hug, Gaz and Price with him. Betrayal burns the back of your eyelids as you shake hands with your captain, and he gives you a knowing look. A sad look.

When the helicopter banks over the tents, you see the black spot of someone standing outside, face turned up to the sky, and you stare at the white and black skull until it disappears from view completely.

You’re restless.

Your house is a skeleton, the walls of the rooms empty, silence so loud you swear you can feel it reverberating in the floors. You were technically on leave, but available for transfer, even though you hadn’t put in for anything, and hadn’t put any feelers out for private sector either. There was something glitching in your brain. Something serious after that last explosion. The whispers of self-doubt echo in your mind. You were off after that bomb, there’s no denying it.

You’ve tried to cleanse yourself of it. Of him. Of everything. You stand under the spray of the shower and scrub your skin until it hurts, letting the bathroom become so thick with steam it’s hard to see. It’s the only thing that relaxes you. It’s the only place that feels quiet.

It’s three weeks later when you start to get sick. At first, you think it’s a bug and expect it to pass. You have a hard time keeping anything down, your stomach sending food and water right back up your throat, forcing you to sip electrolytes throughout the day to keep from crashing.

When four days of the same turn into five, and then six, and then a week, you start to get nervous. You start to do the math.

That’s how you end up in the drugstore, staring at the selection of pregnancy tests. Just to rule it out. You tell yourself. There is no way you’re pregnant. You were good with your pills. You rarely ever missed one. Better safe than sorry.

The test glares at you, fully aware of much an affront it is.

“This can’t be happening.” You whisper to yourself in the mirror. “This isn’t right.” Fear ricochets up your spine.

Fuck. Simon. 

[zg0nuwa]

Hey, hope you're fine...and i see that you're another fan for Miguel (we are) can you write the father day with his daughter and the reader as his wife please:(?....(i just hate my daddy issues)

★ best dad ever ! ⎯⎯

i don't think you understand how much power you just gave me with this (i had like half of this written already but tumblr crashed and i was one step away from going into my joker era)

miguel o'hara x wife!reader

warnings ; angsty fluff, i tried experimenting with the spanish but i feel like i failed miserably, lowercase intended, i'm not a spanish speaker so you're free to correct me on the spanish.

miguels work schedule was very unstable. there were times when he would be gone for the whole day and then there were times when he could spend most of the day at home. you understood, for the most part, he had the multiverse on his shoulders no matter how hard you wished for him to have a much less dangerous job. of course not everyone knew why he sometimes had to disappear for long periods of time.

and one of them was your daughter. all she knew was that " daddy does very important things and he has to go but he will always come back ".

this year, fathers day rolled up on a sunday which meant not only your daughter was home but also you. for your husband it was a little more complicated. he woke up in the middle of the night to a notification from lyla about another anomaly going nuts in the wrong universe. you loved the ai but in this particular moment you wanted to explode her with your mind.

" i'll be back before sunset, i promise " with that and a kiss on your forehead he left through the portal in your bedroom.

the next time you woke up that day was because of your daughter. she climbed onto your bed and started to shake you lightly with her small hands.

" mom? where’s daddy? " you opened your eyes to gabi hovering above you with her favorite plush animal pressed close to her chest. she had this disappointed expression on her small face. you knew it was because of miguel being gone. she planned this whole day for him, you even helped her organize everything.

" i’m sorry sweetheart… daddy had to go to work. " you pulled her in so her head was under your chin. she clung to you like a small koala bear as you played with her thick brown hair. definitely his genes.

" but, he promised he'll be back before your bedtime sooo, we can still make something special. what do you say about that? "

after a small argument about who gets the cooking part of preparations, which obviously ended with you being responsible for it, you and gabi got to work. as you were looking through your old mexican cuisine recipe book [ that you definitely didn’t bought only for miguel to feel more at home during meals ] you saw your dughter holding a box of artsy stuff.

" cariño, ¿qué estás haciendo allí? "

" making daddy a poster! it's going to say 'el mejor papa de todos'! " you couldn't help the big smile from appearing on your face. you knew how much time miguel put into teaching gabi spanish and it always warmed your heart when they sat down at the dining table and simply talked in spanish, your husband making little corrections in pronounciation or grammar from time to time. but no matter what he always looked as if he had hearts in his eyes.

★

you knew miguels work schedule was unstable and sometimes took him out of the house for a whole day, and you understood. but gabi not so much. so here you are, 10:48 pm on the clock and no sign of your husband. you spent the past two hours comforting her and promising her that it wasn't miguels fault and that he loved her. finally at around 11 pm she fell asleep in her bed. you turned off the cat shaped nightlamp and as quietly as possible closed the door to her room.

with a heavy sigh you went back to the kitchen to start cleaning everything up. while puting away food into the fridge you heard a specific glitching sound and you already knew who showed up home.

" you're late. " you weren't really mad at him , it was just tiring sometimes.

" i know, i'm sorry love... it's just - things got a little out of control. " you didn’t look at him and his first thought was to come behind you and hug your waist hoping it would make you feel even a little bit better. “ was there something that i forgot about today? is that why you’re angry? “

" i’m not angry, but your daughter is. she planned the whole fathers day for you. "

" ay, coño… " he sounded defeated, tired, and disappointed in himself. you pulled yourself away from him and came up to the poster gabi made, its was rolled in a tube to not spoil anything before the big reveal. you handed it to miguel with a tiny smile on your face. he was a bit confused for a second but he got the memo and rolled out the paper to it’s full extent. you could see the tears forming on his waterline as he chuckled. probably because of the spelling mistake made by gabi that you didn’t have the heart to point out.

" me and gabi made a deal for you, you have take us to the zoo tomorrow, and she demands that you let her piggyback the entire time to repay for your sins. "

" i guess there’s no other option. " he said with a smile.

cariño, ¿qué estás haciendo allí? - honey, what are you doing there?

el mejor papa de todos - the greatest dad ever

ay, coño - oh, fuck

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Twisted Wonderland Boys x Fem Reader in their respective Fairytales (Series)

─────❅───── This was an ask by @cartoonykat I couldn't compile it in the inbox, m sorryyy (╥﹏╥) "Hi, I was wondering if you could do a Twisted Wonderland Boys (Except ortho) x Reader, Where they are in their respective Disney tale, or a fairytale that fits their character?" A/n: This is a pretty broad idea that makes me want to do a whole series about it! Maybe I’ll do everyone… but first I’ll put housewardens and their vice housewardens first! Thank you for requesting this! I was a bit lost how I can do this one but hopefully I hit the right point! It’ll be split into a series, cause when I was writing I realized, it got long. Hope you like it! About the Gender, I put fem, but the gender wasn't that specific in each part, it's very vague. Masterlist

─────❅───── Content Warning: This Fic will be tagged as 16+ since it is a bit suggestive along with mentions of Gorey themes (Azul), it’s very vague. I haven’t finished Book 6 and Book 7 because I’m stuck in Tartarus, but they’re not done here yet. Riddle (Suggestive Themes), Leona (Cussing, Blood mention), Azul (Obsession, Manipulation, Cussing once, Potential Cannibalism? (He eats merpeople who are turned into Polyps). The reason for potential OOC was cause I mixed both the classic Villains with the personality of our beloved boys Due to the Tumblr Limit, Each one will be divided unfortunately, hopefully it's an easy navigation for all of you! ─────❅─────

First Batch would be: Riddle, Leona, Azul Second Batch would be: Kalim, Idia, Malleus

List of Villains interconnecting with each character:

Riddle = Queen of Hearts

Leona = Scar

Azul = Ursula

─────❅───── Sypnosis: After an experiment gone wrong, you and Grim along with Deuce concocted a potion that exploded in your face, you fell into deep slumber, and due to the effects of the potion, it caused you to dream about your boyfriend/s reigning as their… villain counterparts?! And why are you in the outfit of the main character? What’s going on? ─────❅───── Riddle:

When you woke up as Alice, you didn’t expect to see Riddle in his housewarden outfit. This time, however, he was acting a bit strange. By strange, he was hostile with you, reminding you of the time when he was still in his strict, crazy, unjust ruler phase.

You thought that you were probably dreaming because there’s no way Riddle would ever be rough with you like this. Even before, he was often gentle with you, especially knowing that you were magicless. He was harsh with his words, sure, but he never laid a finger on you. The only time he did was during his overblot, but after that, he was the softest man you’d ever encountered.

“State your name,” he glanced at your figure sprawled down Infront of him, voice amplified with authority as he gripped a staff adorned with a heart symbol. He was the true image of a king—or rather, a queen. His authoritative presence reminded you of the true Queen of Hearts, whom he admired and aspired to emulate.

“Riddle don’t be ridiculous” You were hurt that he didn’t remember you since you two were practically dating in the real world, a vein throbbed on his head, patience running thin. He slammed his staff on the ground, the force sending shockwaves through the air and producing a loud clang. "I said, state. your. name.” he glared down at you, looking at you as if you were a feeble flea in front of him. "You're quite bold talking back to me"

Getting intimidated, you immediately stated your name as well as the reason why you were here truthfully, at first, he wanted to laugh at your face, transported to another world? Don’t be stupid, as if he’d believe you.

You managed to convince him that you truly were not from here by pointing out the fact that he didn’t know who you were despite ruling Wonderland. He, as the ruler, should have data on every citizen of his region, right?

That made him pause. He should have beheaded you for disrespecting him in front of his people, but you did have a point; Despite his anger issues and his pride taller than himself, he listened to what you said. “I see” tracing his fingers along the side of his staff. Narrowing his eyes at you, he continued, "If what you say is true, then you will have to stay here until I figure out how to send you back to your world."

“You’re helping me?” You finally lifted your head to look at his expression, wondering if he was lying or not, then again this was Riddle we’re talking about, he doesn’t do empty promises. Scoffing, he turned around to leave, the crimson mantle that draped on his shoulders fluttered prettily, he really was pretty.

“I rather have you gone than stay here for a while longer, so please, do appreciate that I tolerate you” he walked away, soldiers bowing in sync as he left the throne, “Trey, escort them to the guest room” he added, voice fading, Trey walks towards you, offering his hand to help you stand. “Well, this is a surprise, he spared you” he chuckles a bit while you look at him incredulously, unlike Riddle who had a housewarden outfit but a bit more exaggerated; Trey looked like a completely different person with his knightly outfit, and hair still the same, albeit neater than his usual.

“Trey?” you asked, he looked confused as you are, “Yeah? My name’s Trey Clover, you heard your royal highness, you get special treatment” Straight to the point as always, he ushers you to the guest room.

Sitting down on the soft bed, you didn’t know what to do next, will Riddle find a way to get you back home? Wake you up? You didn’t know, but you felt comforted by the fact that some familiar faces were around, despite them not knowing you.

Riddle didn’t understand himself; he kept a close eye on you while you were free to roam his territory. Truthfully, he was going to punish you, when he heard the news about a rat skewering and destroying some of his lands; however the moment he saw you, he felt an odd feeling as if he knew you, keeping his stoic façade as you were pushed inside and in front of him, he was going to be rough as usual with criminals, but for some reason, he really couldn’t with you.

You also acted as if you knew him with the way you looked at him and the way you got hurt with his harsh tone. Seeing you wither infront of him made his heart feel unpleasant and he didn’t want to see that expression you again, so he decided to stop talking to you; It was unlike him to not only halt your punishment but also offer you a bed to sleep in and have his servants feed you.

Should he be worried that you have that kind of effect on him? He could guillotine you any time, but the way you unconsciously trusted him, thinking about having you executed made him feel bad.

Part 2 (Riddle)

[charmedreincarnation]

My sucess story

Trigger Warning: Abusive, homophobia, mentions of suicide

Hey there, Maya! I just had to take a moment and express my appreciation for all the fantastic posts you put out. I can now confirm, without a shadow of a doubt, that shifting is real, manifesting is real, and so is the void. Our desires and ambitions aren't in vain.

I've been part of the shifting community since 2020 when it exploded on TikTok. It might not matter much, but as a gay man, I rarely saw other guys in the community (though Reddit and Amino have a more diverse crowd). I've always felt more comfortable in women-centric spaces because they tend to be less judgmental.

I never saw success stories from guys, especially the kind I wanted to see - like waking up in a new world, not just manifesting money or a girlfriend (or boyfriend in my case >.<). I've always been spiritual and interested in witchcraft, voodoo, deities, and now manifesting and shifting. But it felt like nothing would let me shift.

Growing up with homophobic and physically abusive parents, struggling with poverty, depression, homelessness, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, and more, I began to feel like you could only manifest and shift if your life was okay. I didn't have the luxury of time or safety to practice methods, constantly dealing with noise, verbal abuse, or physical violence.

Then, I read this post

https://www.reddit.com/r/shiftingrealities/comments/14v4lw3/how_to_shift_the_next_time_you_go_to_sleep/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=ioscss&utm_content=2&utm_term=1

It led me to your Tumblr because OP used some of your old posts and talked about the concept of the void. All searched lead to tumblr. A couple of months ago (2.5 ish) after one of the worst days of my life, I went to bed sobbing, trying to block out the noise around me, praying and crying for anything - death, shifting, a new identity...

Everything around me started to fade - it was as if I was being engulfed by a white, serene blanket of nothingness. It was completely silent, and I couldn't see or feel anything. The only thing that seemed to persist was my awareness.

Now, I've read about the void before, but mostly in the context of it being a black, empty space. So, I'm not entirely sure if what I experienced was indeed the void or something altogether different. The concept still baffles me a bit, but I'm learning and growing through these experiences.

Regardless of where I was, my heart was set on reaching my dr.I kept praying and hoping, to wake up in my DR.

I woke up in my Twitch streamer DR! I found myself in a completely unfamiliar yet perfect place. My room was equipped with a high-end PC, top-notch gaming gear, and quaint decor items. Milo, my dog, was there too. I was sharing a mansion in LA with my boyfriend and four other streamers. The house was beyond my imagination, and streaming here was a dream come true. As night fell, my friends and I explored the vibrant LA nightlife, creating lasting memories.

After a week, i can’t lie I almost forgot I had shifted here. Then, I set an intention to shift back into this reality but where I had moved out, lived with my best friend and their supportive parents, mastered shifting and manifesting, had my desired looks, and money came easily to me. And it worked!

Since then, I've been living my best boujee gay life, and I shift all the time. I even created a waiting room where I'm immortal and use it whenever I need a break. I wish I could offer better advice, but like everyone says, there isn't a key to shifting. It's different for everyone. But you can and will shift. You can manifest your dream life. You can and deserve to be happy

Oh my god, I'm so happy for you, love 💕💕. I also completely related to what you felt. I know it can seem like your circumstances are holding you back, but believe me when I say this - that couldn't be further from the truth.

It's that same resilience, and your ability to persist despite the odds, that paved the way to your dream life. There’s nothing, I mean nothing that can stop you. Not wavering, crying, or doubt. Nothing. If you want it, it’s yours.

[one-time-i-dreamt]

Tumblr added a feature called LikesPublic where one day a year, on a random date, everybody’s likes became public. I was on a kayaking trip and when I got back I checked Tumblr and my dash was exploding about weird shit in popular blogs’ likes. I was so mad I missed it that I screamed, “I missed LikesPub?” and then I woke up.

[thepersonnamedsam]

Dinner for two

Picture not mine (Pinterest)

Pairing: Tim Bradford x GN!Reader

Summary: Tim had a lot on his mind when he responded to a call that day. What he hadn’t have in mind, that he was taking out the victim to dinner.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: none, fluff, season 4 spoilers

Note: This is my second story on Tumblr and my first The Rookie story. I hope it’s bearable to read. Feedback is very welcomed!

masterlist / taglist

Tim’s first week as Sargent wasn’t as he expected. Sargent Grey has been observing his every move and he felt like a rookie all over again. Not to mention all the kids boots he is keep finding in his locker. Tim was exhausted. And now that the department hired Aaron Thorsen, the alleged killer of Patrick Hayes, his brain seemed to explode.

That’s why he didn’t see the sniper shooting coming and how the bullet graced the shoulder of a civilian, you. Tim instantly felt bad and rushed to your aid. His hands tried to stop the bleeding, but nothing seemed to help. How didn’t he see it coming? His brain went into survival mode, one of the first times not for his survival.

You were conscious and breathing, a relief for Tim, but for you it meant pain. Pain you never imagined feeling. And the stressed look of the officer above you didn’t seas your own stress. You tried to take your mind off the pain and your eyes wandered. The nametag of the helping officer read ‘Bradford’. His badge had ‘Sargent’ and ‘3483’ engraved. So, the helping officer wasn’t just an officer, he was the Sargent.

Tim saw your eyes on his badge and name tag, and he realized that he hasn’t introduced himself or asked for your name. “Ma’am, my name is Tim Bradford, you were injured, can you tell me your name?”

His words didn’t seem to arrive to you. You saw his mouth moving, but nothing came out of it.

“Ma’am? Do you understand me?” – “I can’t hear you”, you slurred. Tim’s eyes narrowed and for a split second put more pressure on the wound – you instantly moaned. Why wasn’t the ambulance on the scene yet?

“Control, where is the requested Ambulance? I have a gunshot wound to the shoulder, who won’t stop bleeding. Victim also doesn’t seem to hear clearly. I need backup, now!”

Just as he wanted to yell into the walkie-talkie again, the ambulance arrived on the scene. They rushed to you and provisionally wrapped your shoulder with a pressure gauze. They lifted you onto the stretcher, faces after faces appeared over your own and tried to talk to you, but nothing came through to you. Just as you thought you were alone, the pretty face of the Sargent appeared in front of you. Your heart started to race as his hand engulfed yours. His face softened as he spoke to you again. Broken word pieces came through to you and the bits you caught didn’t stop your heart racing.

“You’re going to make it through, no doubt. I believe in you!”

Even when you were rolled into the hospital, Sargent Bradford didn’t let go of your hand. Only when you were rolled into surgery, you missed the warmth of his hand. And when you woke up, you didn’t think you would feel the warmth again, but you did.

“Good morning, I know you don’t know me, but I couldn’t just let you alone, after all it’s my fault you got shot.”

“Wait, what? How can you be at fault for me being shot at?”

“I wasn’t in the right mindset and didn’t see it coming, I’m sorry. It shouldn’t happen, it’s all my fault.”

“Did you pull the trigger?” Your eyebrow raised your eyes bored into his.

“No?” He looked away ashamed.

“See, then you’re not at fault, everyone has a bad day, it happens.” Your voiced softened, you really didn’t think he was at fault.

“But my bad days shouldn’t affect an innocent civilian’s life.”

“I survived and I can walk away with a broken shoulder, but nothing worse happened.”

You didn’t want him to feel bad, about anything. Not just about the shooting. You wanted to hug him and hold him in your arms and tell him everything will be fine. But you couldn’t, you didn’t even know his name.

“Let’s start over. I still don’t know your name?”, you asked him.  

You saw his face, it softened a bit, relieved you weren’t mad at him. “Tim Bradford.”

“Hey Tim, what’s flooding your brain today?” Your psychology degree came to use after all.

After about three hours, the Doctor came and released you. And Tim couldn’t just let you go. Good for him, you weren’t ready for that either. So, when he wanted to say goodbye, you asked him, if he could drive you home. He immediately agreed and led you to his car.

“You know, as a cop I have to remind you, not to get into a stranger’s car.”

“I’ve known you for a couple of hours, so you’re not a stranger anymore”, you smiled at him. “But you are true, even if you are a Sargent, we may want to start our first date not at my house.”

“But you’re injured!” – “True, but still”, you looked at him and had a mischievous smile on your face. “Ah, you’re trying to trick me”, his head dropped in disbelief and a small smile appeared on his face. “So, take-out at yours?”, he asked, and you immediately agreed.

You ordered Chinese, your favorite, and talked about everything. About his start as a Sargent, your job as a therapist. Your family, his family, especially his dad. It felt like you had known each other since forever. Talking to him was just so easy. Nothing felt out of place or wrong. Honestly, it felt like a dream.

So, when you woke the next morning, you weren’t actually sure, if Sargent Bradford even existed. Your pain in your shoulder distracted you from his absence, but your mind still wondered if it was all a dream. What you didn’t expect, was a cup of coffee and your painkillers waiting in your kitchen. Next to it was a note with his number on it. With a smile on your face, you saved the number on your phone with “SGT. Heartthrob <3”.

                                                SGT. Heartthrob <3

                                                                                                      You left early, xx

I know and I’m sorry

I had to leave for roll-call

                                                                                      It’s okay, you made coffee

I did, was it good?

                                                                                         It was perfect, thank you

You smiled and you couldn’t stop the whole day. But your day was boring, you were never off work, you always had something to do, even on your free days. So, this was your first time, since you started the job, that you had nothing to do. To say, you were surprised when Tim showed up at your house, was an understatement. He was smiling and held up a bag of takeout in his hand. “I thought, you weren’t up for cooking, so I brought takeout.”

And you had dinner again, for the second time that week. And it felt exactly the same as last night. With the exception, that Tim stayed in the morning and brought you your coffee and painkillers himself. Breakfast in bed. 

[ishanijasmin]

the 4 horsemen of adulthood

on monday, i consumed a sainsbury’s meal deal and two cream and jam scones and forgot to drink any water until 10pm. or i didn’t so much forget as think, ‘i’m thirsty’ and then just not do tanything about it—i literally don’t know why. i explained it to three separate people today and they were all like, ‘yep, makes sense.’ ??? does it???

it’s been a long time since my self-neglect hit critical mass like that; i went to bed queasy and woke up with a headache and a bunch of my clothes from yesterday heaped in a corner because i’m nearly 30 and i can’t just not drink water for an entire day anymore without feeling it. i have to identify as nearly 30 so that when i turn 30 in six months i’m not hit with whiplash.

i remember being 15 and staying up til 3am talking to my tumblr friends in america. i remember chugging four shots one after the other and then having the time of my life as fast as possible. i remember not stretching, not wearing spf, not being worried about needing a coat. no longer! ageing is just coming to terms with the fact that you do, in fact, have needs, one essential after the next. sleep, sunlight, movement, water: the four horsemen of being an adult, shortening telomeres and all.

someone reading this might think, ‘hmm, sounds like you’re depressed.’ maybe! this year i’ve been in and out of depressive phases, of varying lengths of time—a few days to a week, usually, but sometimes a bit longer. i think part of this is that i never seem to be able to come to terms with who i am. i’m permanently in a mix of white knuckling my own life and holding it together for fear that i might explode.

this year i bought an apartment. i quit a job that was my dream, because having autonomy and not being controlled and condescended to at work mattered more to me than being purpose-driven in the end. i founded a choir, recorded an album, became a trustee, was featured in an exhibition, and went on a bunch of trips. i pulled the rug out from under myself over and over again just to feel like i was alive.

i often feel i am watching myself as a marionette, and big me is poking and prodding little puppet me with a stick, chanting, ‘change! change! change!’ just to see what happens. because i don’t know what happens. now she moves house! now she quits her job! now she starts using different pronouns! now they’ve signed up for a year long pottery class! what will they do next?! who will they become? who are they becoming right now?

a lot of things are scary and i do them anyway because i believe in jumping out of my comfort zone (me, prodding the puppet self with a cattle prod: ‘change! change! change!’). things like showing up, putting myself out there, holding space, reaching out, sending an email, public speaking—they’re the choices i make to have control over my world and my selfhood, even if they do make it feel scarier. it’s not always so deliberate—usually it’s ending something that’s no good for you anymore, which is sad, and feels forced, but choice is change as a process, not as a one off.

and if that weren’t enough, everything is so fast and so slow at the same time! the days are long, the years are short. the days are long. i don’t have much in the way of routine, which theoretically means that i probably experience less time dilation than average. i would be lying if i said the presence of a nine to five actually made me feel better, because i remember being in it, and it didn’t, but it stopped me from feeling like i am metamorphosing at light speed.

that’s the journey, and embracing it (or if not, at least holding on). from the outside, it’s sitting on the couch, going to a museum, eating a pastry for breakfast not because i can but because i can’t think of an alternative, doing admin, catching a friend for a walk, going to the charity shop and leaving empty handed, picking up a prescription, watching 3 minutes of schitt’s creek at a time, bleaching every orifice in your home to stave off fruit flies. from the inside? it’s the wildest ride. let us take a step back, look at our puppet selves, and let them breathe for a hot minute, because change is gonna come, ready or not.

[thefrogdalorian]

All The Nice Things in Life

Din Djarin x Neurodivergent GN!Reader

Word Count: 2569 Rating: General Summary: During your usual weekly trip to your favourite Market on Nevarro, you get a little overwhelmed by all the crowds and noise. Fortunately, you have an exceptionally caring and attentive Mandalorian for a partner, who manages to calm you down and make you see that you are not a burden to him, despite your worries. Content Warnings: Mentions of anxiety/panic attacks and description of sensory overload. Author's Note: Finally got round to moving this fic to tumblr! It's the first I wrote in my Din Djarin x Neurodivergent Reader series and I really hope it brings you some comfort should you ever need it.

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Despite your best efforts to keep the panic that had been threatening to overwhelm you since you had set out that morning inside you, and not let Din see… things had gotten too much for you to handle and you had finally lost your composure. Fortunately, you were back in the sanctuary of the Cabin on Nevarro you shared with Din and Grogu before you fully lost control of yourself. You had tried your best not to give the impression that you were struggling, you hadn’t wanted to worry Din – the man was too attentive to your every need. You hadn’t wanted to ruin your day out but you had just about managed to make it back to the cabin before you exploded.

It had started off just like any other way you spent this particular day – heading into Nevarro’s town centre to explore the weekly Market. Since Din had asked you to move in, it was part of the routine you had enjoyed together. You hadn’t slept particularly well the previous night, nightmares had plagued you, so you already felt slightly on edge. But you hadn’t wanted to let Din down, you knew it was something that he always looked forward to each week. On this particular day, a variety of vendors came to the planet to show off their latest wares that they had accumulated throughout the galaxy. You weren’t always sure how legitimate some of the characters were, given the astonishingly cheap prices, but you had experienced enough in this life to know better than to ask questions. Grogu enjoyed going almost as much as his father did, the little womp rat loved nothing more than running you and Din ragged between stalls, begging for food with his big pleading brown eyes. The number of times you had scolded him for using the Force to try to steal things behind your back was bordering on ridiculous. But you loved the mischievous little boy and you couldn’t help but find a way each week to convince Din to give him a treat of some description.

You hadn’t wanted to give any hint that you felt off that morning when you woke up. 

Due to your nightmares, you were awake and out of bed before Din. You had used the fresher first, when you came out you had gone straight to Grogu’s room, not having the heart to face him – fearing that he would sense that something was off. You had heard Din pottering around the cabin, having a shower in the fresher and eventually padding to the kitchen to brew the caf - as was your daily routine. You brought Grogu in and as the three of you sat down at the table to eat a simple breakfast, it almost felt normal. An idyllic family scene against the chaos and discomfort that raged inside of you.

After breakfast, as Din packed some bags up of things he wanted to bargain with or sell to vendors at the Market and carefully polished his beskar’gam, you knew you didn’t have the heart to tell Din that you weren’t feeling well. You knew that if you gave even the slightest hint of discomfort, that he would have soon forgotten about his own desire to go to the Market and put everything into worrying about your well being instead. It was amazing how caring he was, but you felt like a burden to have someone care for you that deeply. The guilt of feeling like you were somehow ruining his life was too much sometimes. You wondered if he ever yearned for the simpler life he had when it had just been himself and Grogu here.

But you had successfully managed to push those feelings down somewhere deep inside of you and put on a brave face. Things had been going well and you had managed to get over your initial apprehension about going to the Market. A ride on the back of Din’s speeder – with Grogu perched in his little bag – had certainly helped. Any time you got to hold the man you loved so much around the waist and feel the warmth from his body beneath the beskar was bound to settle your nerves.

You had arrived at the Market just before the afternoon rush and when the heat was at its highest. Things had been fine, your earlier apprehension seemed to have been forgotten. Grogu had been a little mischievous, whining for food and looking admiringly at a Loth-cat plush that you had eventually managed to persuade Din to give into his reservations and buy for him. The kid had enough toys, but truly the thought of seeing Grogu cuddling a little Loth-cat was doing wonders for your mental state. The way his little face lit up as you placed it into his chubby green claws and he squeezed it – like Din had once told you he had squeezed and Anzellan droidsmith – did, in fact, soothe your nerves. The sight was one of the cutest things you had ever seen.

You had spent a comfortable hour or so walking up and down the various Market stalls, Din by your side. Occasionally, when you got to more crowded areas, he would place a protective hand on the small of your back. It always made you feel so loved, feeling what good care he took of you and how unashamed he was to show his affection for you in public. You knew how many heads Din always turned, curious glances that were sent the way of you and your shiny Mandalorian. 

But at a certain point – without much warning – things began to feel too much for you to bear. Suddenly, everything felt overwhelming and you wanted to curl into a ball and cry. Not being able to see Din’s face wasn’t helping – those kind, gentle brown eyes that you loved so much. Perhaps it was the heat and brightness of the sun; or the overpowering noise of the conversations of hundreds of people fighting against the yells from the vendors; or the crowds that did not seem to thin no matter which way you turned, making you feel as though you were trapped; or the way everyone seemed to be staring at Din. Your rational brain knew that they were just intrigued seeing a Mandalorian back on Nevarro, but the more irrational parts of yourself felt paranoid that everyone was staring at you – judging you. You felt your head beginning to buzz loudly; every noise felt agonising and every step you took felt heavier and heavier until you could not take another. You had to get out of here.

“Din, I need to get back to the speeder.” You mumbled shakily, before running off back through the crowds towards where you had come from. Your body felt as though it was on autopilot and you were back in a flash. Somehow you had managed to part the crowds and fight your way back.

Mercifully, Din had quickly found his way back to the speeder and you did not have to wait long until you saw him. You noticed how his chest was heaving, he must have sprinted after you. He immediately noticed the way you were trembling and moved to place his arm around your shoulder.

“Is there anything I can do here to make you feel better?” Din asked, his modulated voice full of concern.

You shook your head.

“Do you want to go home?”

You nodded slowly, grateful that he was asking questions that could be answered with a nod or shake of the head. He was so attentive in that way.

“Okay, it’s fine, cyare.” Din soothed. “Get your goggles on and let’s go.”

You clung so tightly that you feared you might suffocate him, but of course you were a trembling mess; even at your strongest you would be no match for the tough mandalorian warrior that you loved so much.

When you made it back to the cabin – mercifully it was a relatively short ride – Din took Grogu to his room for a nap, while you paced in the living area, wringing your hands. Finally, when Grogu was settled, Din made his way into the room. Mercifully, he had removed his helmet and changed into some more comfortable clothes. You respected he had to wear his helmet and armour when you were out and about, but you appreciated just being able to see the man beneath the armour when it was just the two of you here.

“Do you want to discuss what caused it? Din asked, seeing that you were clearly still distressed.

You just shook your head and quickly headed towards the comfortable couch in the main living area. You plopped down there, covering your eyes with your hands.

“Can I hold you?” Din asked, his deep voice never failing to surprise you in how soft it could be.

You nodded, feeling the tears you had been holding in being suddenly violently ripped out of you as Din’s arms snaked their way around your body. With him you always felt safe, you felt a certainty that things were going to be alright that you had been chasing for so long.

“Hey, hey… please take a deep breath.” Din asked, “Match my breathing.”

Din placed your hand on his chest between the two of you, so you could feel the deep breaths he was taking and try your best to match your own to them. But it was hopeless, though you had tried your best to fight it since the moment you had woken up, your anxiety had won the day.

“This is so stupid, I'm so stupid.” You choked out as you sobbed inconsolably.

Din’s heart ached to see you this upset, he wished you could see yourself the way he saw you. The love he held for you and Grogu was more than he had ever hoped to find in his life. Din had spent so much of his life alone and now having experienced the honour of loving another made him wonder how he had ever dealt with life alone.

“You are not stupid.” Din whispered. “You are the furthest thing from stupid.”

“I’m so weak and pathetic, Din. I ruined your day… I know how much you wanted to look at the stalls with the plants for the garden here and we couldn’t even make it that far before I ruined everything, just like I always do!” You said as you shook violently.

“Look at me.” Din said, releasing his strong hold on you but keeping a protective arm around the small of your back as he tilted up your chin to meet his kind brown eyes that were filled with so much concern for you. “You are one of the strongest people I know.”

His words brought your tears out in fresh floods, but they were no longer the violently distressed sobs that had wracked your entire body. You were moved by his emotions towards you.

“You’ve been through so much and yet you’re still here.” Din soothed. “I admire your strength. I wish you weren’t so hard on yourself, cyar’ika. If someone spoke about you the way you spoke about yourself… I would hunt them down and make them pay for daring to speak about the person who holds my heart like that. But it’s you… so I can’t. It breaks my heart to hear you talk about yourself in this way.”

Din released your chin – not before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead – and pulled you back into a tight hug.

“Please tell me what I can do for you.” Din said into your hair, softly.

“Just hold me, Din.” You asked.

Din stroked his thumbs against your shoulders gently and you felt yourself relaxing into his touch. Sometimes when you got overwhelmed, the thought of being held was disgusting to you… but with Din, he always seemed to know exactly what you needed. You knew if things ever felt too overwhelming, though, that Din would take no offence to you asking him not to touch you.

Once you had calmed down enough, you were filled with an overwhelming need to apologise again:

“I’m so sorry.” You said quietly, struggling to meet Din’s gaze. “We were supposed to have a good time at the Market. I wanted to get an ice cream with Grogu at the end.”

“Will you stop apologising please?” Din said calmly. “Grogu had a wonderful time, we spoiled him with that Loth-cat plush, which he’s currently cuddling as he naps. He had more than enough to eat!”

“I’m sorry… dank ferrik! I’m sorry for saying sorry again!” you laughed

“What am I going to do with you?” Din rolled his eyes lovingly and pulled you back towards him, planting a soft kiss on your forehead again. “Apart from spending the rest of my life loving you?”

“I don’t deserve you, Din.” You said, blushing.

“Of course you do… I would be lost without you. I was lost until you and Grogu came into my life.” Din said solemnly, brown eyes momentarily flickering with the pain that life as a solitary bounty hunter had caused him. “But now you’re here… I’m not letting you go without a fight. Even if I have to fight you for being mean to yourself sometimes. Okay?” 

“Okay.” You replied, his words were exactly what your frayed nerves needed to hear.

“We’ll get through this.” Din reassured you. “We always do… you always do.”

Later on – after you had woken up from the nap that Din insisted you take after the exhausting toll getting into such a state had taken on your body – you smiled as you the smell of your favourite dish drifted down the hall and into the bedroom from the kitchen. Din was still learning how to cook properly but he always made an effort for you, despite his inexperience and general clumsiness in the kitchen. 

You walked towards the kitchen, thanking the Force for the day it made you cross paths with Din Djarin, wondering what you would do without him. Din’s face immediately lit up when he saw you walk through the door and – as you sat down to eat with your boys – your heart felt lighter already as you looked at the pair of them. The meal was delicious and clearly prepared with a lot of love, even if it did not look all that appetising… you knew that Din had tried his best. 

After you had finished eating – complimenting Din’s efforts throughout – your favourite Mandalorian insisted that he had a surprise for you. As he pulled the treat out of the freezer section of the conservator, you realised exactly what it was – the ice cream from your favourite Vendor at the market. Somehow he had gotten hold of it; it must have been when you were taking your nap.

As you sat there at the table, indulging in your favourite sweet, creamy treat that the man you loved so much had gone to such trouble to source for you – after realising how upset you had been to miss out on it at the Market before – you realised that this was exactly what you deserved in life. 

You were not a burden, you knew Din would never view you as a burden. You deserved all the nice things in life. 

[iennoganan-aha]

SPIDER-MAN OC‼️‼️ holy fuck the new movie was so good I’m going insane! I craved to make my own Spider-Man oc, it was strictly necessary or else I would have exploded.

I don’t usually post oc stuff on tumblr but fuck you I NEED to share my boy, clown spider deserves to be seen 😤😤

His name is Solomon Barret, he’s an 18 year old art student. They were bitten by a radioactive spider when his art class was having a field trip at an art museum that was close to the science lab that made it. Solomon didn't even notice being bitten since he was hyperfixated on taking notes of an art piece they were observing.

When he woke up the next day, he noticed some strange things in his body but chalked it up to the few hours of sleep he had gotten that night while working on an art project.

He started noticing major differences later on. After discovering his powers, he wasn't inclined to do anything with them. He has never fantasized about being some kind of hero. He decided to use his new powers of being able to stick to walls and surfaces to paint murals onto. He started to paint beautiful murals onto places where no human could get to. He started signing the paintings with 'spider-pierrot' since he loves pierrot clowns and french art and characters.

He designed his costume after a pierrot clown to further his persona as a performance act. He used his powers to be more of a figure who painted beautiful art with powerful messages. He wasn't interested in becoming some kind of vigilante or superhero.

His canon event is that because he didn't use his powers to stop crime, one night as he's working on a painting he sees a someone run past him, the man is shady, but Solomon does nothing and returns back to his painting. He later found out that the shady man was involved in an incident that gets his older brother Esmé killed.

He decided to begin taking his powers more seriously and using them seriously, becoming a vigilante.

He incorporates pantomime into his fighting style and aerial acrobatics, an art form he's very interested in. He uses pantomime as a distraction/diversion tactic, to confuse is enemies. He also will pantomime quips instead of verbally humiliating or joking with them. He has always been selectively mute, and uses sign language to communicate mostly aside from pantomime, but will speak if necessary. He uses his webs in a somewhat puppeteer like way.

He has the standard spiderman powers such as super strength, stick to walls, spider sense, he can naturally create webbing instead of using a device, still deciding on any unique powers he may have, but his fighting style keeps him unique enough for me!

Uhh yeah I like him a lot :>