#Sprout Gear anon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tenetikles · 5 months

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Same anon,

Gnome: "Well, technically that's how it started. Had a few times the group I worked with needed to get information from people that were less than forth coming. Learned that some races react differently to soft or harder interactions and time. Originally, I was just the person that kept the gear in shape or that was the idea. The leader, the cheap bastard she was, assumed things could always be fixed no matter how mangled it was.". The gnome pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, "What is it about people not knowing some things have a shelf life? especially if you don't take care of them. "

"Anyways, keeping all the material did come handy when crafting some restraints to hold who we needed. Some had weak stomachs, underarms, you name it. Found out some people with tails, wings and horns had those bits protected for a reason."

He takes out a worn book with notes of those he's had to get information out of. "Horns can show their health for some. The color, shape, length and how durable it is. Some are sensitive from where they grow others can enjoy them being held, grasped, or played with. Massaging the base can relax them or get them riled up. Take it as you will." Pointing to the image of wings, "Wings were interesting, for some, having their wings tied had...interesting results. Some panic almost like a chicken with their head cut off. They thrash about, yelling, even biting. Good for mental stress. I guess they feel trapped. The feeling of drowning for some depends on how tight their wings are held. Some have enjoyed it, others not so much. Those with feathers tend to have sensitive frames,l I believe. Light grips or hard can get them talking. Those that have leathery ones, the webbing is what gets them. Very fragile, you'll need to apply oils or lotion to weight them down and prevent tearing. After that, well your choice. Seen some stand at attention and barely move. Eyes opened wide, jaws open and stammering. Their wings add stress from where they sprout. Massage there, tickle, pinch and they just crumble, melt, turn into putty. Same with the horns."

He turns to the tail portion of the book, "this was a bit different. Depending on the race and their health, either nothing happens or something happens. One or the other. Made friends with a tiefling that let me mess with his tail. Base of it where it comes out of the body can tense up like it wants to crush something. I almost lost my head. The hips can take them from stiff and wanting to kill you to a limp noodle. Tested it with other tieflings and it varies. Others need their back massed with, others the underside. I may need to get more info. "

Taking out a small ball, "learned that gags came in many shapes and durability. Different races have different jaw strengths and their teeth can either break it or be broken. Also puts stress on the jaw, always thought it had no purpose. I was wrong. Some serve as a way to prevent the wearer from hurting themselves. Clenching can be bad for your jaw and teeth. Wear them out or break them or you could bite your tongue, though I've learned some are into that. Gag can force their jaw into certain positions, either putting physical stress on them or preventing them from having themselves. Some clench their teeth like lifting weights when trying to resist in some situations, not all mind you but enough. Some gags stop just shy enough to stop them from trying, but they try anyway. Some have a bit of resistance to push the jaw back, you waste energy and mental strength try to focus there instead of where you need to. Others are rings, some people like to play with the tongue or put something in. They need to give measurements and I need to know how long the sessions are meant to last. Rings can be made of metal, rubber, leather or some lesser materials. They get stressed too and can hurt some. They never listen or read the warning. Learned people like to play with the lips and tongue, I think they described it as making them a play thing. Our mouths depending on your background and teaching are special. You speak, eat and what ever. Someone takes ownership of it, you feel...lesser I think someone told me. Like you have become theirs, inch by inch as they take more from you or give back. Which brings me to the last one I make. One that's perforated. They can be soft or hard, allow drool to pass and they can have liquids added. Some increase your heart rate, not too heavily, just enough to help with breathing. Some have slow acting stamina potions, health potions things to make you salivate. A little salt, honey what ever you want. Just remember to support the head, hydrate, and take care of the straps. There can bend, stretch, twist, but just like people they have their limits."

Putting the book away, he brings out a few colored jars, feathers, pinwheels and brushes soft and hard bristle.

"now some of these can be used before, after or during. This red jar has oil that acts like a healing spell. Massage it into the frame where the stress is most apparent. Smoothes the area and relaxes the muscles, wear good gloves. The blue one, helps to remove the ability to feel things. Helps with dealing what you need to, once it wears off they'll know what they hadn't felt. it also can be used after your down if you're on friendly terms. Helps them recover, just make sure to watch of them. Massage the areas, elevate the right part and rest. Green one, helps boost the sensation. Not really much is needed to affect an area. Mix a teaspoon with water and apply. Use brushes to really get them. Let it set and have fun. Pinwheels can be effective, especially on softer areas. Find the pattern of trail that works for you and they'll break. Feathers can be useful. Soft or stiff blades can trace over the sensitive bits, the bits depend on you. Keep an eye for twitches and jumps. The quill can trace and poke. Uses it where you like. The smallest cracks can lead to big fractures and even bigger messes."

I can imagine him saying this to the victim as he prepares his tools, Patrick Bateman style lmfao

The victim nervous and struggling in their binds as he explains what exactly he’ll be doing

The victim waiting in anticipation and anxiety because they don’t really know what was coming

Anon you broke me 😭😭 I want this— dare show yourself in my dms?

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myhuman · 1 year

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2 for the question thing tbh which guy are you? the modernity of flint on gears, controlled; or the rawness of flame soaking through the wood, down to your fingertips. going anon because this is making me sound gay

🫡 anon this is an awesome question and also to be honest it does kind of make you sound gay but that's because technology is inherently homoerotic

dude this is a hard fucking question (just deleted like 2 paragraphs)

I really like both sides. "the modernity of flint on gears, controlled" really just reminds me of how industrialism has changed us, I feel almost cold towards the idea. There's such an inherent cold of machines, and I know on tumblr we've really defined machines with their own warmth of the sprawling style of wires and cords and plugs and ports to that of organs and I think the most important thing to remember is the human hands that had spent so long blueprinting and crafting such things... which is what I'd really wanna say, but our machines are still cold. Our factories are disgusting and churning things with indifference that is largely an amalgamation of capitalism and mingling cultural aspirations for never-ending work. I think our machines are hungrier than our people that we have to dig up the very life of our planet just to make these fucking things. As much as there's beauty in the internet and connecting and having made these machines of spectacle and wonder there's something insidious lurking in all of it that I can't help but feel more disturbed as our new technology comes to really kill us from the inside out.

"the rawness of flame soaking through the wood, down to your fingertips" is much more distinctly human. Warmth and skin is very primordial, more familiar to me. It is also much more directly something that's going to kill us, but like after a wildfire there'll still be some life to sprout from our little ashes. But it does still kill us. With this, I don't really think it'll be kind enough to leave anything but our bones left. I think bones can still count as something left to remember us? Already consumed by the flames of something and I'm not sure what but it doesn't really matter because either way it will still kill us. I can't help but think of it in comparison to the other option though, that my mind still sticks to like ants to sugar. I'd really rather something leave nothing of us behind than kill us from the inside out ...

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luimagines · 2 years

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Okay but think about how badass a reader that has the ability to control flora would be. Need a specific herb for that dish? They've got you. Need a softer place to sleep? Just wait a minute, they'll make a nice plant bed for ya. Wanna smell better? They're already growing very fragrant herbs and flowers.

Many members of the chain feel as though the reader would be easily harmed in a fight because they tend to create/grow flora that are easily destroyed. That is the general consensus until they encounter three lynels (I have no idea if they actually travel in groups please go with it 😅)

The chain's protective instincts kick in and the smallest + reader kick in immediately. However, our dear reader is far from helpless. They are targeted by one of the three lynels, but before any of the Links can react, thick, coarse vines with thorns, and tree roots rocket out of the ground, restraining the beast. The beast puts up one hell of a fight, no surprise there, but the reader has it handled. The thorns grow exponentially, causing the lynel to begin to bleed out. The lynel's weapons and other gear are ripped away. With one final push from the reader, a vine penetrates a wound in its chest and expands until the lynel is no more.

With one beast slain, the reader moves on to protect any Links that may have fallen by creating nearly impenetrable canopies over them. When that is finished, they jump into the rest of the fights by once again restraining the beast, taking its gear, and ultimately allowing the Links to land finishing blows much easier than other fights.

After everything is settled, the wounded have their canopies withdraw so Hyrule and the reader can tend to them. Sky got a pretty nasty hit to the head, and Wars had quite the laceration ranging from his shoulder blade to the other side of his ribs.

Reader carries seeds that have been blessed by the fairies in their world that will grow into plants that have immense healing properties. The two get them fixed up. With the little energy they have left, the reader creates one large canopy that will enable them to camp for the night with (hopefully) minimal problems.

I believe the reactions of the chain would be as follows (please add on if you want!!!)

Time: taken aback for exactly 0.5 seconds before getting back to it

Twilight: will probably ask reader to grow an ordon pumpkin (he carries pumpkin seeds around lol, gotta have snacks that double as slingshot ammo)

Warriors: wants to know how tf a plant chrysalis suddenly encased him, then is thankful the reader can hold their own in more ways than one

Legend: "you couldn't have done that earlier?"

Wild: wants them to spar with him only using their magic abilities and staying in one spot... and other shenanigans involving natural sedatives/stimulants

Sky: once he wakes up, he's confused until wind excitedly tells him about how badass the reader is. Then he's disappointed he didn't get to see it lol

Wind: in awe, a little jealous, mostly wants to partake in plant shenanigans and hijinks with wild

Hyrule: 0-0

Four: I FUCKING KNEW IT

- can I assign myself an emoji and establish myself as a consistent anon? I totally get it you don't want to do that :) if yes, can I be ☀️?

Also, how do you feel about longer asks like this? I don't wanna cross any boundaries

Thanks!!

Absolutely Sunshine!

I have a masterlist for anons who send in literal stories. I don't mind the length at all. :D

I have a few regulars as it is, so take a seat and relax, we're all friends here.

Also this Reader gave a bit of Poison Ivy vibes.... just.. with out the whole backstory and desire to wipe out humanity.

Time would probably want to know how it would work the way it does. I bet he's seen some flora magic before. But with their powers, can they make the deku tree grow any bigger than the mere sprout he currently is?

Wild.... no drugs dude, chill. This won't count into your enchanted food.

Poor Sky though. He didn't get to see Reader save the day and be the best of the group for a chance.

Wind is totally going to rub it in his fac- I mean, recount the entire thing with theatrical flair. :) Obviously.

.....And with Warrior, I guess the only thing that comes to mind is from Critical Role Campaign Two... with Forge in the seaweed roll. I won't go too into it for spoiler reasons. But he comes out a bit beefier.... So Warrior less of a twink then?

The rest are stellar. Spot on interpretation. Thank you for your contribution. XD

#pinky replies

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drxwsyni · 4 years

Text

Petrified (pt. 6)

Yandere Erasermic x f!Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

a/n: So, I’ve got the rest of this fic planned out which means ideally, writing the rest of it should be easier. I’m so sorry for how long it took me to finish this part, I just had to figure out where I was taking the whole story first. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

A big thank you to those few anons who so kindly sent me some inspiration for this fic. I really appreciate the help, and it greatly assisted me in forming the outline to the rest of the story <3

*Sidenote*: Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist! Also, I’d recommend looking at the warnings listed on Ao3 for the whole fic. There’s a lot of them, and some of you might like the heads up for future chapters (it will have slight spoilers though).

5.2k words

Warnings: Reader experiences panic attacks, severe anxiety & claustrophobia, coercive behaviour

The progression of the night felt slow, but perhaps that wasn’t such a horrible thing―it allowed your mind to grow accustomed to the seemingly endless rambling of a certain blond. That, and you could appreciate the unfaltering patience of his partner, who like you listened dutifully and made the occasional response to whatever the voice hero had chosen to fixate on.

And surprisingly, the frustrating agreement you were quite literally coerced into began slipping from your recollection, at least for the moment.

You’d admit, the two men had some fairly captivating stories. It was becoming a sort of norm for you to idly exist alongside them while they spoke. As a civilian, and one with relatively no past experience when dealing with heroes or villains, you were more or less forced to let them take the reins on the back and forth between the three of you.

That is unless they wanted to talk about what flowers were best paired together, or the step by step process of tending to some particularly high maintenance plants. You assumed they didn’t, and stayed quiet in your ways.

And so time went on, you nestled into the corner of their couch in the small but comfortably furnished living room, the fuel burning fireplace giving off a warmth that settled the nerves that had been sent skyrocketing not too long ago.

For the second time that night, your eyes drifted to the clock hanging on the wall―6:52 pm.

In moments like these you were able to be thankful of Shouta’s perceptiveness, him following your gaze without you realizing his actions. It wasn’t until he voiced his own concerns of not wanting to keep you up too late that you had the realization of his observances.

Naturally, you had no qualms with the idea of your departure.

Hizashi wasn’t as accepting of it, being the overly affectionate person you hated him for, but he would always listen to Shouta before he did so with you. And with a stern glance and brief assurance, his own opinions gave way in favour for the erasure hero’s.

You tried insisting that calling a cab home was no issue, but you rarely got your way with the two, and tonight was not going to be an exception. That reality had you sitting in their car on the way back to your apartment, Hizashi in the driver's seat and still managing to find something to discuss. At this point you weren’t sure if you preferred the nearly deafening silence of Shouta’s company, or the never ending chatter of his partner, but that too was out of your control when you were seen off by the visibly exhausted man at the door just minutes ago, him favouring to remain home to clean up for the night.

The speakers were playing low, some unrecognizable channel broadcasting soft rock while you politely listened to Hizashi drone on as he drove the car through town. It had begun raining just before you left, the distinct but quiet noise of downpour hitting the windshield having a somewhat soothing effect.

It was greatly appreciated, when the sound of Hizashi’s voice was growing in intensity the more excited he became with the topic at hand. You didn’t have the heart to tell him to lower his tone, and so you did your best to contain any brief winces when the pitch raised just above a comfortable level.

When the sight of your apartment complex came into view through the rain splattered glass and street lights reflecting off the droplets, a deep sigh of relief escaped your lungs. Paying attention to the exuberant man after such a long and mentally tasking night was difficult, but somehow you managed to pull it off. You gave yourself some credit for surmounting the task, fully prepared to bound out of the vehicle to your awaiting bedroom the second the chance to do so arose.

The car came to a halt, Hizashi putting the gear shift into park outside the complex. You waited for the doors to unlock, getting ready to say your goodbyes.

You felt a warm hand rest atop your thigh instead, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Before ya get going, I just want to mention one last time that what you’re doin’ at work really isn’t the best idea, sunshine. I know, I know―you like helping people with that cute lil’ quirk of yours. It’s just the whole thing isn’t treatin’ ya very well, you can’t tell me it’s something you’re really okay with keeping up.”

The leg that wasn’t being held down by the blond’s hand bounced anxiously―the action itself unconscious, and movements small to the point where he didn’t pick up on it. His gaze was hard set on your expression, and the raw concern in his eyes was only unsettling, the exact opposite effect it should have.

Salvation was just a few metres away, but with the car doors still locked, it might as well be in another country.

Your eyes trained on the passing cars at the intersection down the street, plastering the best casual look across your face. Inwardly, you prayed he couldn’t sense the way your heart rate had picked up to a racing pace, and the somewhat unsteadiness to your breathing.

“It’s hard, but the job is all I have. Not just for money, but I really do get satisfaction out of working there. And...while this isn’t really the first time I’ve had issues because of my quirk, I can’t just let it stop me from doing what I love.”

Without even looking at him, you could tell how much he disapproved. And you didn’t need the visual confirmation when the grip on your thigh got tighter, and the noise of breathy exhale sounded off next to you. “Sunshine, you’re only hurtin’ yourself. It’s not worth it to do that over a job.”

For once your eyes met his, only for a moment, with a small and brief surge of what you think may have been confidence. Could’ve been stupidity, either way it had you replying with an edge. “You’re one to talk, don’t people like you get hurt all the time for the sake of your job?”

There was a pause, and in that silence you feared for your life.

But then the blonde gave an amused chuckle, removing the hand from your thigh to wave off your confrontational remark. “It’s different for you, I’m supposed to get hurt if it means I’ll protect someone else. And even then, I’m ready to rock with a little help from my friends. My wounds are healed and then it’s back to business―your aches are long term. And for what? Those pretty flowers are gonna die no matter what ya do, no need to put yourself through it to give them a few more days of air time, honey.”

All you could do was smile, even though the condescending attitude was killing you in more ways than one. To drive your fake expression of positivity home, you mustered that awful customer service voice that you’d summon when having to deal with some less than savoury individuals.

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re right, Hizashi. It’s just...I’m really dedicated to my job, and I have been for a long time. I don’t think we’ll be able to agree on this, but that’s not a big deal.”

He gave you a lasting look, as if trying to find answers that he wouldn’t get from spoken responses. Dismissively, the blond shook his head, unlocking the passenger door. “Alright, alright. I’m not gonna change my mind on this though. And ya better hold up your end of the deal either way. I don’t think Shouta or I could take another scare from you so soon, got it?”

Oh, you heard him loud and clear.

You nodded in agreement, “Of course, thanks for the ride home. Oh―feel free to tell me if you have to cancel any of our plans if something comes up too.” Hurriedly, you were collecting your handbag that was strewn across your lap, reaching for the handle and pushing the heavy door open.

“Sure thing, hun!” Inwardly, you cringed for the thousandth time this night at his unwelcome pet names, giving a final smile before gently shutting the car door.

The sound of rain lightly coming down around you, with the damp heaviness in the air felt like an atmospheric and emotional reset. One that you needed―your pent up anxieties were ready to break through the walls you put up since the second you stepped out of your apartment. And you almost forgot about them too, the feeling of consistent dread becoming something that lingered alongside all your other emotions. It never went away, and it’s not that you stopped noticing it completely, rather you had to push it down to keep up a calm facade.

And now, you didn’t dare glance back in Hizashi’s direction as you made your way to the front entrance of the complex. Because he would see the look on your face, lower lip quivering, eyes watering and expression just barely holding it together.

The distraction of a normal conversation was ripped from your body, and the prospect of having to worry about balancing work as usual without looking like a liar came crashing down on you.

You could only hope that the walls were thick enough for your neighbours to be protected from the sounds of your sobs.

_____

Petals grew with a lively plushness, leaves sprouting a new sense of vitality. It was a beautiful display of plant life.

And you grew tired.

Your most recent purchase of concealer was doing a good job dissuading people from that fact however. Even after a long work day, it remained masking the dark circles underneath your eyes. Nothing changed for a while, except for the notion that you were getting better at keeping the drawbacks of your dedication out of the spotlight.

Arrangement after tedious arrangement, your quirk brought life back into the greenery like it always did. You only wished you felt as healthy as you looked. The sight of a blemish free and lively complexion as a result of your new makeup routine made you a little jealous, knowing the truth.

You never felt so concerned and drained over the reality of your general state before now.

Those two heroes wanted you doing what they thought was best for you, which they had no right to decide. And although you resolved in secret to simply put up a front of agreeableness, their demands still had an effect.

Paranoia was one of them.

Having them walk in on your work shift unannounced was a slim possibility, but it was a possibility nonetheless. Ideally, you would save the fairly high priced makeup for those impending weekend nights spent with the two. Yet, the prospect of either of the heroes catching you off guard, and quite clearly unchanged from holding yourself back, kept you reapplying the product day after day.

You went into the ordeal with high hopes, but with each passing shift your doubts only became more incessant. Going through the motions of what was normally a mindless routine became taxing, even just days after seeing the two. And so, when the time rolled around a week later to give them what was pretty much a progress report passed off as a friendly get together, it was difficult to maintain a straight face.

No amount of astonishingly good food, or engaging stories by the fireplace could take your mind off the question that by all means should pop up.

And it did―merely proving your conceptions of what they really had in mind for nights like these. For some ungodly reason the two sought to control this part of your life, one that if it weren’t for them might not be a big issue. Without the emotional strain, your body would be able to handle the effects of utilizing your quirk in a way that was manageable.

It was their fault you felt as if the end of a work day couldn’t come sooner, and the fumes of energy you retained nearly weren’t enough to get you home each night.

And yet, as they sprung the expected question upon you, demanding to know if you were following through with your end of the ‘agreement,’ they seemed none the wiser to your blatant lies.

Well, aside from the fleeting glance Hizashi sent to Shouta, which was promptly disregarded, you’d effectively averted another crisis. It was back to settling into the background of their company, losing yourself in their words for the moment where the questionable reality of the situation went over your head.

Perhaps if you grew closer to the heroes under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t feel so gut wrenchingly apprehensive whenever you caught yourself coming to greatly enjoy your time with them. It was like an internal betrayal―your body unable to disregard the oppressive behaviour they exhibited, while simultaneously longing to have gratitude for their hospitable nature.

By the end of the night, the semi-forced meeting had you feeling as drained as any work day would, and then some.

In fact, you never fully recovered from it.

You only got worse, the need to apply more concealer and muster everything in your being to force a smile on your face during the day being the bane of your existence. It was all because of them, and they didn’t even know.

If you weren’t so miserable, you could almost laugh at the whole thing. They were the ones urging you to take better care of yourself, and yet it was them who were keeping you from doing so. It’s not like you could just heed their words and stop using your quirk―your livelihood depended on it. Tips were hard to come by in your occupation, and the only reason why you earned so much was due to the advantage you held in the workplace.

The frustration was what had you crying yourself to sleep some nights, at least when you weren’t too exhausted to simply pass out the second your head hit the pillow. You began devising ‘what if’ scenarios that would only have to do with ways to avoid Shouta and Hizashi. Ways to weasel your way out of meeting up with them.

Maybe you could fake being sick? They would just come check up on you regardless.

Perhaps you could move to another city? You didn’t have the funds―and what if they followed you?

Why don’t you just ask them to end the agreement?

...Don’t lie to yourself, you’d rather lose your job than face that level of confrontation.

They were an active nuisance even when they weren’t directly in your life. And so when they were present in that sense, the feeling of unbearable stress only increased tenfold.

Hizashi was one for texting, the sound of a message alert from your phone instinctively triggering your heart to drop in your chest like a Pavlov dog. A painful reminder in the times you managed to free your worrisome mind from their unintentional torment.

And then there was the unannounced visit from Shouta on your way home. It only happened once before the next dinner night, but it was enough to break down the wall you’d built for the ensuing occasion that would hopefully protect your weak heart from shattering under the stress.

He walked you home, catching you on your way back from work. It was peculiar, to say the least. A hero as busy as him actively ignoring his duties to see a civilian who was in no danger whatsoever back to their apartment. You initially questioned him, and he blew off the concern with the defence that this type of occurrence was very much in the rage of heroics that needed to be done.

You weren’t in danger, but you might’ve been if he hadn’t showed up. It was a logical action taken by him, and you shouldn’t worry about it.

Shouta was quiet on his feet, and you might’ve thought he’d left you be if it weren’t for that distinct rustling of his capture weapon shifting as he walked next to you. He was a man of few words, and seeing you home didn’t require much conversation when he was simply doing his duty as a hero.

You arrived at the complex, safe and sound. Physically at least.

As always, you had to adjust from keeping your anxieties to yourself, to being so overwhelmingly aware of them in the privacy of your own apartment. The floodgates were opened, and bottled up emotions no longer had a need to stay hidden. Coming home was never supposed to be so painful, but it was when you were forced to spend it trying to calm down from the chance day.

_____

They let you make dessert for your next meeting. The both of them were deeply impressed by your skills, offering their own extensive words of praise.

Expectedly, it wasn’t enough to have them forgetting the real reason why you were there. You were thankful when Shouta asked how you were doing this time―he always got straight to the point.

But you ended up yawning midway through dismissing their concerns, and of course they pressed you on it. It wasn’t intentional in the slightest. You didn’t want to give away that your limbs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds with how tired you were. Or how your existence could now be chalked up to getting ready for work, going to work, and recovering from work―with a sprinkle of uncontrollable meltdowns on the side.

You told them it was getting late, and they had offered you a drink, so naturally you were a little tired from it. No big deal, right?

Of course, they said.

And so you went home not too long after, Shouta in the driver's seat, stoic and silent as ever. Maybe it was your hazed over mind playing tricks on you, but his demeanour felt...off. Like he wanted to say something, but was holding himself back. Perhaps it was for your sake, or he just assumed you were too worn out to really take whatever words were floating around in his head to heart. So instead he kept a close eye on you the whole way home, stealing concerned glances that you never met with your own gaze. He was tense―the white knuckled grip on the wheel gave it away.

Shouta never gave you evidence as to why he was acting as such, and you never asked him to.

_____

While you may have been growing accustomed to their presence even in the slightest, it didn’t stop your body from shutting down in the areas that you needed most.

Resilience was your strong suit in the time before meeting the two men. But life was testing you around every corner, and you were failing these tests with worse results each time.

It was Wednesday, the halfway mark in another week that felt all too long for you to be able to stomach. Unforeseen obstacles were becoming a norm lately. Making sure you were stocked up on enough caffeine so you didn’t black out, pinching yourself to stay awake in the slower times at work, consciously paying attention simple actions so you didn’t trip over your own two feet. Generally, it was the small stuff that was making your life harder alongside the more glaring issues you faced.

And now, the obstacle was getting home. It’s not that this wasn’t always a task in itself, but it never developed past the routine of ensuring you were heading in the right direction when your mind chose to wander.

This time you were sure the route you were taking was correct, but something was in your way.

Your ears rung at the high pitched sirens going off around you. The flashing lights of firetrucks, ambulances, and other various first responder vehicles lit up the steeped darkness of the night. A crowd had formed at the police tape line blocking off one side of the street, the group effectively taking up any space left to get by on the other side that wasn’t bombarded by emergency personnel.

The sight seemed like an insurmountable feat, especially in your state. Physically and emotionally drained, the gathering of onlookers stood as one of your worst fears and largest challenges yet. Whatever had earned such an audience was beyond you. Realistically, you needed only to regard the response it was given to know that whatever had happened, it was quite serious.

And it was preventing you from moving forward.

There was the shortcut to your left, one that’d worked for you before...until it didn’t. The warnings of Shouta and Hizashi ran through your head, bringing on a new sense of anxiety. It was just what you needed―the words of the two most intimidating men in your life keeping you from seeing yourself home in a calm manner.

You couldn’t take the alleyway. The only option was right in front of you.

Deep breaths.

It was only roughly twenty or thirty feet of crowd. Tightly packed, and relatively unmoving. You didn’t have the heart to rudely shove your way through the condensed gathering, fearing the looks of disapproval from those you tried to get past. And so you weaved through slowly, barely getting out a passing “Pardon me,” or “Excuse me.”

Distantly, you were aware that your voice was so small amongst the muddled conversations of strangers and still blaring sirens, that the probability of anyone hearing your forced politeness was slim to none. But the action made you feel better, even if nobody knew that you were having these concerns. At least you were trying to be wary of others.

But you didn’t get the same care in return.

Rudely, an observing civilian shoved you to the side, selfishly trying to get a better view. You stumbled into another body, earning a curse of annoyance for your clumsiness. With a racing heart hammering in your ears, you gave a distressed apology. It earned you no leniency.

You can block them out, just focus on getting out of here.

Another harsh force collided with your back, sending you to the pavemented ground. The feeling of your knees scraping against the harsh surface didn’t register. The notion that tears were welling in your eyes didn’t either. Only the sensation of panic, and the ability to simply breath becoming more difficult was able to surface in your consciousness.

You pleaded with your body to stand up, and somehow you did, no thanks to anyone around you who could’ve very well assisted you. Through the thickness of the crowd you couldn’t even see where the bodies dissipated. All you could do was blindly move forward.

Nobody cared about how overwhelmed you quite obviously were. Or at least that’s what you thought, not being able to completely tell, or ask for help to hopefully alert someone of your extreme discomfort. They only needed to remove their focus from whatever scene warranted so much attention in front of them for a second to realize what they were unknowingly doing.

And yet, of course nobody was that conscious of their own actions. Not like you, who even amidst the chaos of being shoved in every which direction still desperately tried to minimize your own damage. It was for the sake of those who paid no mind for your own comfort, you fearing whatever might happen if you didn’t.

The presence of so many people was suffocating. If you didn’t think you were claustrophobic before, you certainly knew you were now.

You were exhausted, stressed, partly injured―although that fact still hadn’t set in yet―and unbearably on edge.

And then you were out.

You don’t remember going through the motions, just that now your body wasn’t compressed by countless others. A few seconds went by and you felt your sense of balance come back to you. But you still felt nauseous, and in lifting a hand to your face you realized that you were crying, feeling the distinct wetness against your fingers.

Out of the need for mental self-preservation, your brain essentially forced you into autopilot. You found your legs moving away from the crowd, and down the route that would lead you home. It amazed you by the time you shut the door to your apartment that you hadn’t passed out. The way you still shakily sucked in breaths in quick succession hadn’t stopped, and your hands could barely keep steady as you fumbled with the locks on the door.

The work bag weighing you down was unceremoniously dropped to the floor, and you tiredly trudged to the kitchen table. Had you gone any longer without rest, you could’ve very well collapsed right there on the floor. Thankfully, you made it to a chair before then, burying your face into your arms that were folded over the table as you slumped against it.

Tired and weak sobs wracked your worn out body, and you let the steady stream of tears be soaked up in the sleeve of your hoodie. As for how your mind was fairing, you couldn’t really tell. Getting a grip on your wavering thoughts felt impossible. It was an uncontrollable back and forth between what had happened, and fleeting attempts to ground yourself.

That task of focusing on the present wasn’t something you could do alone, at least not at the moment. But the sound of your phone ringing could. Your heart stopped at the auditory intrusion, and hesitantly you pulled the device out of your pocket.

The caller ID had you relapsing, broken cries unable to be contained for a few seconds as you tried to figure out how to deal with this new and greatly unappreciated problem. Your eyes scanned over the buzzing and lit up device, reading over Shouta’s name repeatedly.

You let the call go to voicemail.

A moment of reprieve―and then the ringtone started for a second time.

With bated breath, you stared at the device. You could let it go to voicemail once again. You could blow it off as not being near the phone when you were inevitably questioned on the occurrence.

Or you could answer the damn thing now, and be done with the weight of the night.

On the final ring before the automated response kicked in, you pressed the ‘accept call’ button. In lifting the phone to your ear, the gruff and concerned voice of Shouta broke through before you could make any move to initiate the dreaded conversation first.

“Sorry to bother you, just checking to see if you got home safe. There was an incident in your area in case you weren’t already aware…”

The line went silent as you took a moment to collect yourself before giving a response.

You sucked in a deep breath, “I’m alright, thanks for calling.” The appreciative lilt in your tone was as genuine as you could make it. But the shakiness, the crack in your voice as you spoke―it was a dead giveaway.

“...Then why do you sound like you’ve been crying for hours? You need to tell me if something happened, (y/n).” Even with the way the phone call distorted his voice, the sternness still pierced your resolve as if he was standing right in front of you.

Your words were shaky as you felt a plethora of distressing emotions bubbling rapidly inside of you. “I said I’m fine, Shouta. You don’t need to―”

“Don’t lie to me. You know I’m only asking because I’m worried about you, alright? Clearly something’s wrong, just―tell me what happened.”

You wondered if he was aware of just how unfriendly he sounded while saying something like that. It was more so a harsh command for a response, rather than a gentle urge to inform him of your wellbeing. Like he was bothered with you trying to remain strong, and not burdening him with your problems.

That was your issue with Shouta―a hint of what you could only assume was annoyance lingered in his words where you were concerned. At least, that’s how it was when you were behaving in such a manner that didn’t comply with how he’d decided you should act. You’d seen him in a light that was enjoyable. When you first met him, or after he’d already chewed you out during those Saturday nights and thus no longer felt the need to pressure you on what truth you’d developed over your state.

Unfortunately, right now your state went against all those lies you told. An emotional wreck, beaten down by the hands of those too caught up in some captivating scene to take account of the consequences to their ignorance.

Determination was wavering in your mind, and if you didn’t end the call soon then the chance of making all the effort you’d put into keeping them from the truth would be for nothing.

“Really, everything is okay. Listen, I’m sort of busy right now…” You stifled a sob into a clenched fist, “I-I can’t talk at the moment, I’m sorry―I have to go.”

Your finger was flying to the ‘end call’ button as soon as the words left your mouth. His protests rang through the speaker, but exactly what he said was beyond you.

The line went dead, and your phone shut off. It clattered against the wooden table as you dropped it. Your hands lifted to rub the hot tears falling down your cheeks, full body tremors wreaking havoc as you remained seated.

In the silence of your apartment, your emotions settled into a static numbness. Your eyes remained trained on the table, mindlessly taking in the details of the wood’s grain. Whatever would happen as a result of you abruptly cutting off the conversation wasn’t a scenario you could formulate.

The screen on your phone remained black, and you made no move to turn it on. You never checked it for the time that was passing as you remained utterly drained at the kitchen table. Something in the back of your mind told you that yes―you could very well get up and go to bed. Or maybe you could bring yourself out of this empty feeling with a distraction.

You could even call Shouta back, perhaps apologize for behaviour that was out of your control...

...No, you couldn’t do that.

Possibilities of various actions presented themselves, and yet you remained unmoving. Your breath had steadied to a slow intake and outtake, disregarding the quivering that still persisted. You didn’t want to think about what had happened, so you didn’t think at all.

You settled into that state for an unknown amount of time. And it took a while, but slowly you could focus on the background noise around you. The air conditioner hummed from the vents against the wall, the thumping of footsteps from residents above you sounded off a couple of times.

Actually...there were more than just those few footsteps.

Still in a daze, you trained your weak focus on that sound. Distant, then coming closer. You turned your head to the front door of your apartment where they stopped.

Three loud raps against the frame. Firm, steady, and done with purpose.

Your heart sunk into your chest.

(End of part 6)

_____

Taglist: @roseloverofpastels @shinsous-eye-bags @tjhonoluluprezstitch626 @pekusofixus @riathearora @glitterypinkkitty @elektraeriseros @hadesnewpersephone @axolotleyeliner

#yandere bnha #yandere erasermic #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere hizashi yamada #yandere my hero academia #yandere mha #yandere eraserhead #yandere aizawa #yandere present mic #yandere hizashi #yandere #yanderecore #yandere writing #yandere x you #tw panic attack #tw anxiety #tw claustrophobia

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selfship-confession-box · 1 month

Note

selfshippers who are upset because their f/o doesn't have a lot of content are so valid 🩷 - 🌱⚙️

#self ship #self shipping community #selfshipping community #selfship #self shipper #self shipping #self ship community #selfship community #f/o #f/os #🌱⚙️ anon #Sprout Gear anon

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anthonyjlockwood · 3 years

Note

running fingers through hair + Alex/Luke/Willie 💜

thank you for the prompt, anon!! 💜

here it is on ao3!!

Luke is having a terrible, terrible day.

He doesn’t really know why it’s been so bad, either. But it started off with yet another fight with his parents at breakfast, and then he’d forgotten his song book at the house and had to go back for it, which led to another argument about why he was “wasting away his Saturday playing with that band of his.”

On his bike ride over to the studio, it started to rain, and the cutoff tank he was wearing was decidedly not waterproof, so halfway through the quarter-mile ride, he was drenched.

He just wants to forget about his parents, and the rain, and play music with his friends.

But even that idea is soured when he walks into the studio. Willie’s there alone; it doesn’t look like Alex, Bobby or Reggie have arrived yet.

Luke stops in the doorway once he sees Willie, suddenly feeling very hot despite the cold rain that’s making his shoulders shake.

He doesn’t like to use the word “jealous”, ever. He also doesn’t like to use the word “avoiding”. But over the past few weeks-- months, really, if Luke’s honest about it-- he’s gotten this really strange feeling in his stomach when he’s around Willie. And when it’s Willie and Alex together, that’s almost worse.

He’s not sure if it’s the whole “third wheel” concept that bothers him; he doesn’t think so, because Reggie and Bobby have been together for months, too, and it’s never bothered Luke to be around them.

But being around Willie and Alex together is… strange. It almost feels like Luke’s missing something, or missing out on something. Like when he forgets his favorite hot dog topping combo and only realizes once he starts eating that while the food is still good, it's not right.

Luke shakes off any awkwardness along with the last drops of rain, and throws Willie a smile that he hopes looks effortless.

“Hey.”

Willie looks up at his voice and smiles back immediately. He’s one of those people who just can’t not smile, and his happiness is like an airborne case of the measles. Luke catches it like a frisbee and can’t help throwing it back.

Something inside him relaxes a little, despite the lingering stress of the fight and the tension of the cold. His muscles ease with a shiver. “Where is everyone?”

“Alex and Reggie are inside with Ray, helping him set up the new T.V. he bought. Bobby’s not here yet… He said he’s gonna be late,” he lowers his voice to a whisper. “I think he and Reggie had a fight or something.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around,” Luke sighs.

Willie gives him an understanding smile. ��Emily again?”

When Luke doesn’t respond, he tries again. “Why don’t you come sit?”

This, at least, Luke can do; he doesn’t want to talk about his terrible day and the terrible things he and his mom said to each other. But he finds that he does want to sit next to Willie, and let his friend’s positive, easygoing nature cover him up like an umbrella, shielding him from the negative thoughts running through his head.

He walks over to the couch, kicks off his shoes, and collapses on it dramatically.

Willie doesn’t indulge his theatrics, though. He just shuffles closer to Luke on the couch and says, “Y’know, I snuck out to come here. Caleb didn’t want me leaving the house.”

Willie’s uncle Caleb-- his legal guardian-- was a buzzkill on a good day. On worse days, he’d try to hold Willie hostage in his room… Luke didn’t know if it was a control thing, or what, but if Willie had to sneak out for this, he knows it must not have been a good day.

“Caleb’s been acting really weird lately,” he goes on.

If there’s one thing Luke can say about Willie, it’s that he has a knack for filling silences. He knows when other people around him are feeling uncomfortable, or if they just don’t want to talk at all, and he fills in the silence effortlessly.

Luke’s no introvert, really, but on his bad days when his mind is in the neutral gear and no matter how hard he hits the gas, he doesn’t go anywhere… sometimes he likes it when Willie takes over the driver’s seat.

“What’d he do?”

“He just… he’s so… controlling,” Willie says at length. “Needs to know where I am all the time, who I’m with. He asked me if I’m dating anyone new.”

Willie turns his head away to roll his eyes, but Luke notices. He’s heard about Caleb’s problems with Willie’s dating life-- all the questions, second-guessing Willie’s choices…

“And then, this morning, he asked me if I’ve ever thought about getting a haircut!” Willie complains. “Like, what the hell is that?! Could you even picture me with shorter hair?!”

The image of Willie with short hair has Luke laughing before he can stop himself. He claps his hand over his mouth-- Willie’s complaining about Caleb; the last thing he needs is to think Luke’s laughing at him-- but Willie sees anyway, and groans.

“This is not funny!”

Luke snickers. “Sorry, Rapunzel.”

Before he can realize what he’s doing, he leans forward.

Willie stiffens at his approach, but he doesn’t shy away as Luke gently brushes a hand through his hair. It feels soft and smooth under his fingertips, like a blanket. He relaxes under Luke’s touch and closes his eyes, going still as a statue.

Holy shit, Luke thinks. I’m petting my best friend’s boyfriend’s hair. What the--

He yanks his hand back, and the movement causes Willie to startle slightly. He looks up at Luke with wide, worried eyes. “What happened?! Is there a bug on me?!”

“N--no,” Luke chokes out. “It’s just… sorry. It’s just your hair.”

He lets out a low, awkward laugh and just prays for the moment to end, for the embarrassment to just see itself out like the unwanted party guest that it was.

But then Willie joins in on the laughter, and the sound fills up the room-- and Luke’s heart-- with a comfortable warmth that overshadows any regret that might’ve been there before. When their laughter finally fades out into silence, Luke misses it immediately. He isn’t sure why he’s feeling this way; usually, losing his mind over how cute Willie was is Alex’s jam. And it’s not like Luke hasn’t appreciated Willie for all that he is-- he’s just looked from a distance. Up until now, he’s been like one of those peacocks at the zoo, something that’s okay to admire from afar but impossible to touch, impossible to get close to.

“Willie--”

Alex chooses that moment to come back into the room, grimace on his face as he quietly shuts the door behind him.

“So… it doesn’t look like we’re having band practice today.”

“What? Why?!” Luke needs music like he needs air; especially right now, when all he wants is a distraction from these thoughts about Willie. Off-limits, his-best-friend’s-partner Willie, whose soft hair and easy grin are still taking up way too much space in his mind.

Playing music’s supposed to fix that, just like it has fixed every other thing that’s gone wrong in Luke’s life recently. Losing himself in his songs is the only surefire way that he knows to not think about his problems for a while. Running the band practice, making sure that Bobby’s guitar is tuned to perfection and that Reggie knows when to come in during the chorus… it’s those organizational things that distract him the best. Because even though everything’s going to shit inside his head, on the outside everything looks perfect. It sounds perfect. It’s all as it should be.

“Reggie and Bobby are still fighting because Bobby swatted at a bee on the way to the studio, and Reggie just stopped immediately to yell at him for it because ‘bees are essential to nature,’ and ‘they’re his friends,’ and he was offended. Bobby texted me all this.

“So now Reggie’s refusing to come to practice-- or go anywhere else with Bobby-- ‘til he ‘apologizes to the bees’.” Alex snorts. “So we won’t be seeing them for a while.”

He finally crosses the studio to the couch and settles himself down on Willie’s other side, dropping his bag to the floor. “So what have you guys been up to?”

“Not-- not much,” Luke stutters. “We were just--”

“Luke was just saying how gorgeous my hair is, how much he wants to run his fingers through it. He said it’s like the finest silk from China, the most glorious, flowing--”

“Shut up,” Luke chokes out a laugh. “Alex, we weren’t--”

Alex doesn’t seem too bothered, though. He grins at Luke easily and says, “Willie's hair really is something, isn’t it?”

Luke feels his cheeks turn cranberry red. “It-- it’s alright.”

“Alright?!” Willie asks incredulously. “I believe you compared it to Rapunzel. It’s Disney Princess-worthy!”

Alex lets out a poorly-concealed snort and shoves Willie playfully, knocking him into Luke like a domino. He shoots Luke a grin over his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“He’s modest, too!”

“Luke said he’s gonna be our Prince Charming!” Willie says with glee.

“Luke, why didn’t you tell me you liked Willie’s hair so much?” Alex teases.

“Hey, it’s only fair,” Willie protests, with an impish smirk that sends shock waves through Luke’s small intestine. “If I have to listen to you wax poetic about Luke’s arms all day, you should be able to handle-- appreciate, even-- that Luke thinks my hair is sexy.” He flips his hair, for dramatic effect, and winks at Luke. “‘Cause it is, you know. He’s absolutely right, and he can say it!”

“You’re relentless,” Luke grumbles. His face feels like a campfire.

“Willie!” Alex’s eyes widen, his own blush sprouting on his cheeks now, like Fourth of July fireworks. “You weren’t supposed to--”

“It’s fine, Hot Dog,” Willie chuckles. “I think Luke feels the same way about you. Right, Luke?”

“Wait, what?!” Luke splutters. “I--”

Luke stops himself, because he was about to deny that, and… he’s not fully confident in his answer, anyway.

He and Alex tried something, years ago, way back before Alex even met Willie… but Luke had been scared back then. He was still scared now-- the prospect of crossing that line from friendship to more, when so much was at stake… their friendship, the band. Luke’s sense of security.

He can’t still like Alex. He shouldn’t like Willie.

And liking both of them?

Alex and Willie are still staring at him, still waiting for the answer that would make or break the entire afternoon. And Luke opens his mouth to say no, to try to salvage whatever he has left of Alex’s friendship, of his own self-respect… but apparently his brain and his heart and his mouth are not all on the same page, because the word that leaves his lips is, “Yes.”

He braces himself for the impact; for Alex’s eyes to widen in realization. For him to try to backtrack, say that Willie hadn’t meant what he said. For Willie to use whatever paranormal charisma skills he seemed to possess to try to get them all back on track-- to make some sort of joke or change the subject.

He even prepares himself for one of them to tell him to leave. He wouldn’t blame them, honestly.

But none of that happens. What happens is that Alex steps forward slowly, shakily, and looks at Luke with a strange expression-- fear, confidence, and desire all morphed into one.

Luke’s never seen Alex look like that before, but the sight of it sets his heart pounding in his rib cage again.

“Can I… can I try something?”

Luke nods, so Alex steels himself and grabs Luke by the wrist, pulling him in and smashing their lips together.

The kiss is warm, and fast, and Luke’s heart is beating out of his chest but the sleeves of Alex’s hoodie are soft against his bare arms. He pulls Alex closer, needing more of the unexpected comfort, and Alex obliges, swinging one hand around Luke’s head to hold it in place against his.

Eventually, Luke does need to pull back and catch his breath. When he does he finds Alex’s gaze on him intently; and behind him, Willie is watching carefully, too, braced for Luke’s reaction.

He just… he kissed his best friend. In front of his boyfriend! And neither of them look particularly bothered about it…

How the hell did Luke’s day turn into this? How did he get to this point, panting in the garage studio, sweat prickling against the back of his neck, Alex looking at him like that, fresh out of a kiss, and Willie… looking like he wants to join in?

“Shit, Alex,” Willie teases, letting out a trembling breath. “I don’t think you’ve ever kissed me like that.” His eyes settle on Luke. “Can it be my turn now?”

The kiss with Willie’s a lot different. It’s warm and soft and comforting like Alex’s was, but there’s an edge to it. Luke feels like a teenager again, almost; like he’s doing something he shouldn’t be… but that just makes him enjoy it all the more.

Kissing Willie is like speeding down a highway on a motorcycle-- he can feel the rush of the wind in his ears, the room spinning around him, but he feels grounded to the seat all the same.

It’s exhilaration; it’s jumping out of an airplane with no parachute, and the rush of it only makes Luke want more.

Luke still doesn’t know how his day had turned from bad to how it is now; full of possibilities, full of nerve wracking love and things Luke didn’t even realize he was craving.

When Willie pulls him back in for another kiss, Luke decides he doesn’t even care. He’s just happy to be along for the ride.

#julie and the phantoms #julie & the phantoms #jatp #jatp fanfiction #jatp fanfic #luke patterson #alex mercer #willie nolastname #lalexie #them 💜#i'm still taking these prompts if anybody wants to send one btw!

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pupshine-funtime · 2 years

Text

Hello!! Welcome to my blog :D I primarily make original stim gifs from footage I record ! (currently on break from making gifs because I got unmotivated, but over the summer I'll make loads of stim gifs out of footage I've been filming and accumulating!)

You can call me Arlo or Sprout \(๑╹◡╹๑)/ I'm genderqueer and my pronouns are he/him and ze/zem/zer/zers! I age dream (and rarely agere) to 2-5. I love making gifs and sewing agere gear from scratch! I have over 200 stuffies!! I use tone tags and I would prefer if you used them when on my page because they help me. /gen

Now, what will I post here? I'm mostly an agere and stim blog! I also love clowns and cartoons so there'll be some of that too. I am currently making my own (stim) gifs either from scratch or from others' videos so send a request and I might possibly make some :D (I'm like a stimboard supplier tehe. /silly) My blog is completely SFW!! I will always try to make sure I tag a warning if I would ever post something that needs a warning, but if I miss something please lmk what I need to tag! /gen

Spam liking and reblogging is okay!

My tags, anon list, (navigation coming soon), DNI list, and terms of use are under the cut ↓

My tags: reblogging any of my posts is okay!

#Arlo's stims - gifs made from footage I recorded from scratch and made myself of various things! Credit me if used.

#Arlo's rec stims - gifs I made from pre-existing videos, credit the video or me/the post if you use.

#Arlo's stimboards - any stimboards (and moodboards) I make, mix of mine and others' gifs (or photos). (do not repost as-is)

#Arlo's text posts - my text posts of various things. (do not repost)

#Arlo's crafts - art I create whether it be agere gear, drawings, or colorings. (do not repost)

#arlo babbles - personal thoughts, likely about agere things (do not repost)

Anon list: 0

Navigation: (not linked/made yet.) Types of Regressors, OG Stims, Rec Stims, Stimboards, Moodboards, Stuffie Adventures

--------------------------------------------

OVERALL I BLOCK FREELY IF I FEEL UNCOMFY

My DNI list for my safety. DNI IF YOU/ YOUR ACC IS:

not appropriate for a child to view

NSFW /NSFT

If you post/reblog/interact (can be seen in your likes or follows) "18+ only content"

DDLG/ABDL (and varients)

kink/BDSM

pro-ship

MAP/PEAR

believe that agere is nsfw

believe DDLG/ABDL can be sfw

gore account/content

vent account/content (small or tagged is okay)

anti-agere

homophobic, transphobic, racist, ablist, zionist, ect

anti-DID/OSDD (sysphobic)

anti-therian or furry

anti-neopronouns or xenogenders

I'm prone to blocking blank blogs (because of bot issue and to avoid nsfw) so keep that in mind before interacting because I might do that to you (sorry!)

Please make sure to read that above and check if anything applys to you, thanks!

My gif terms of use:

Do not use if you apply to my DNI.

Do not use for NSFW content.

Like the post of the gif if you save/use.

CREDIT ME AND CREDIT OTHER GIF MAKERS!

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT ALWAYS SUPPORT OR AGREE WITH THE CHOICES AND OPINIONS OF CREATORS OR THEIR CONTENT I MAKE GIFS FROM. Also I don't have any sort of paid subscription to streaming services or even ads on YouTube so if I watch media to make gifs of something with harmful creators I guarantee they are getting 0 dollars and 0 cents from me.

(Side note: my gifs are to capture real life moments, in a way. Meaning, I like taking the videos to live life in the moment and enjoy sensory experiences more. It's a way I capture moments in life. While some of my gifs aren't candid, they aren't completely curated either. I still like capturing whatever the moment is, how it is, because THAT is what I want to love.)

Thank you for reading and have a good day!

#introduction post #sfw agere blog #stim blog #pinned post

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dourpeep · 3 years

Note

my theories were correct sprout is def the type to impulse buy candles soft hehe

but anyways- hello!! long time no see!!

I’ve been

In my silly little bed

avoiding my silly little tasks

But yeah school is a drag and my procrastination is very high indeed

I want to draw spooky things (been meaning to draw a spooky pfp for my art account and wow suddenly we’re five days into october) but i have several assignments on my back and when i seem to DO have free time all my inspo and energy is gone and i end up playing genshin instead-

SPEAKING OF i did the calculations and once i reach 29,760 primos i’ll have my guaranteed xiao AND a guaranteed banner 5* hehe- scaramouche pls mhy, I’m at around 20,600 primos ish…

Other genshin stuff, finally got the courage to turn on inazuma commissions, am two recipes away from mastering all cooking, and on the grind to level up the sakura tree :DDD world quests are kind of a drag for me but inazuma’s are decently good! yes teared up just a tad in the sacred sakura cleansing-

Also been jumped back into working on my genshin oc/semi-self insert, the vision manifestation info from the stream helped quite a lot since I set my up to make them a full kit with percentages and everything haha….totally didn’t have to remake her skill, burst, talents- AHEM-

Also designing them is pretty fun! I’ve been analyzing genshin designs (truth be told there is close to no symmetry to be seen) and how they translate into in game movement. However i’m completely stuck on her hair- (everyone got bangs bro they’re just superior)

I know this sounds like i’m researching as if my character is actually going to be in the game, but it’s fun and gets the brain gears goin! Enough brain rot for now hehe don’t wanna fill up the ask-

Alas, thank you for asking! Sorry for the info dump- I’ll be peepin here and there, and keepin you busy with asks!

-🃏

OIFHEIH my anons having theories on me man that's wack--I wholeheartedly support this please continue nodnod

I have also been

in my silly little bed

avoiding my silly little tasks ehehe who needs to do tasks when you can nap

But like...listen. I keep forgetting it's already October it feels wr o ng. Feels weird. But also oddly nice because time's passing by quick. But also not nice for that very same reason. Regardless, time is passing and it feels like it should still be August or something

AH GUARANTEED XIAO IS VERY GOOD MUAH MUAH LOVE XIAO BIG LOVE FOR XIAO

He's my MVP so I'll yell from the rooftops about how good he is as a unit

Scaramouche...when he does decide to have a banner, I'll roll for him. I don't know if I'd use him (if he's a catalyst) though--eh! We'll see. I'm also eyeing Itto! I love the little interactions he's had w/ Kujou Sara ehehehe

Oh--ohhh man I really like the world quests and stuff--they feel like you're more involved w/ the place if that makes sense??? And the Sacred Sakura one??? My he a r t OTL (': that one had me blubbering..ueueue

AHH YES THAT SOUNDS LIKE SO MUCH FUN!! AND MAKING YOUR OC TRANSLATE AS IF THEY'RE GOING TO BE IN THE GAME OOOO

big brainnnn big braiiiiiinnnnnnn

Gotta say, the asymmetry is great. Psychologically, it keeps the brain occupied with visual elements so that it doesn't get bored, thus translating to players not being easily bored with seeing the characters because of that nodnod

tasty

Ah! And ofc!!!! It's always fun to have nice casual chats like this :DDD

I have a lot to say and I'm lonely

#anon asks #joker 🃏 anon

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steves-on-a-plane · 4 years

Text

Just a Small Favor

Part Two / Part Three / Words: 1175 Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Other Characters: Bucky Barnes Summary: Bucky invites Steve and Reader over to dinner because he has a small favor he’d like to ask of them. Request: “Hiiii. Can u write something about being steve’s wife and Bucky wants to have a bby(single father) so reader offers to be the surrogate and steve doesnt agrees.” - Anon

“What do you think Buck wants to talk to us about?” You asked, walking up the driveway to Bucky’s house.

“Well, back in the day, this is what friends did.” Steve told you, gearing up for another old man speech. “They would invite each other over just to socialize.” You rolled your eyes. “To discuss how each other’s lives are going.”

“Except when have you ever known Bucky to want to socialize?” You asked, ringing Bucky’s doorbell.

“Did you make him brownies?” Steve eyed the glass baking dish in your hand jealously. “I love your brownies.”

“I know, so does Bucky that’s why I made a batch for everyone.” You said. “It’s what polite house guest do.” Steve couldn’t argue. He knew you were right, bringing a dessert to dinner was the polite thing to do. The front door opened and Bucky greeted Steve with a hug and you with a kiss on the cheek.

“I hope you’re not hungry.” Bucky apologized, “I’m a terrible cook.”

“It’s okay, [Y/N] brought brownies.” Steve assured as you followed Bucky into his dinning room.

“Well then the entire dinner is saved!” Bucky announced cheerily. “Seriously we’ll just have those for dinner.” He reached for the baking dish in your hand.

“I’m sure whatever you’ve made is fine Bucky.” You laughed, tugging the dish just out of his reach. You put the brownies down on the table. You and Steve sat at two of the place settings while Bucky occupied the third. Despite his protesting, the meal Bucky had prepared was impressive. There was a full beef roast in the center of the table, with roasted green beans, homemade mashed potatoes, and brussel sprouts.

“Since when can you cook?” Steve asked as Bucky began to serve the dinner.

“I used to help my mom a lot when I was a kid, but I actually followed a recipe for the roast.” Bucky clarified. With the food portioned out, everyone tucked into their food.

“This is amazing, Bucky.” You remarked. “Can you come over and cook us dinner every night? You might be a better housewife than me.”

“Nah,” Bucky shook his head slightly embarrassed. “Rodgers would be lost without you, and I wouldn’t look nearly as good in your clothes.”

“So what’s going on Buck?” You ask, stabbing a brussel sprout with your fork.

“Can’t a man invite his best friend of almost a hundred years and his wife over for dinner without having an ulterior motive?” Bucky asks, very poorly feigning innocence.

“That’s what I’ve been saying.” Steve obliviously supported his friend.

“Actually, Steve, [Y/N] is right.” Bucky admits. “I “I have a favor I wanted to ask you both. I was going to wait till after I buttered you up with food, but…”

“I knew it!” You whispered across the table at your husband. “Whatever you need Buck, we’re here for you.” You promise, placing a hand on his forearm.

“[Y/N]’s right,” Steve nods. “You’re family, Bucky.”

“Well I’m glad that you both feel that way because I’m looking to start a family of my own.” Bucky told you.

“That’s great! Who’s the lucky gal?” Steve asked excitedly.

“Well, that’s sort of the problem.” Bucky sighed. “I’m tired of waiting for the right gal to come along to start a family. So I started looking into my options. Adoption is one, but I was really looking into the idea of surrogacy. I was hoping maybe you and [Y/N] would…”

“You want to have a baby with my wife?” Steve snaped filling in the gaps for himself.

“Yes! No…Kind of. Not the way you’re thinking.” Bucky fumbled to explain himself.

“Steve, I think you’re over reacting a little bit.” You tried to smooth things over. “I don’t think that Bucky was suggesting that he and I…Were you Buck?”

“What? No! No!” Bucky agreed quickly. “I just mean a purely scientific surrogacy, they do it all in a lab. Not the, ah, old fashioned way.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“That’s my wife.” Steve repeated again.

“He knows that Steve. He was the best man at our wedding.” You reminded your husband.

“Some best man!” Steve huffed. “Trying to have his way with my wife!”

“Whoa!” Bucky held his hands up in surrender. That was not what he was saying at all.

“Steve!” You hissed. “He’s you’re best friend, he’s not trying to…”

“Not anymore!” Steve hissed.

“What?” You didn’t believe what you were hearing.

“He’s not my best friend anymore.” Steve explains.

“I think you need to calm down.” You told him very seriously. “You can’t come back from something like that, so I suggest you don’t say it again. We’ll be happy to help you Buck.” Steve opened his mouth but you put a hand up to stop him.

“No, I don’t want to cause any trouble, for either of you.” Bucky said, he was only looking at you, too afraid to look at Steve.

“He’s not in charge of my body.” You said pointing at Steve. “I get to decide what happens, and I would love to help you start your family.” You finally turned to look at Steve. “Now you can can get on board and support your friend or…actually no that’s the only option. Bucky never asks you for anything. The one time he does, you don’t get to throw a fit about it.”

“It’s dangerous, [Y/N]!” Steve argued with you. Then you understand why Steve is so upset and what triggered his angry reaction. He was worried about something bad happening to you. You crossed the room so that you were standing next to Steve. You reached out and held either of his hands in one of yours. You look up at Steve and stare directly into his eyes.

“Honey, it can be risky but not as risky as back in the day.” You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s safer for everyone, mothers and babies. I’ll be okay, and so will Bucky’s baby.”

“You don’t know that.” Steve shook his head. His rage has simmered slightly by now and he wasn’t raising his voice.

“I’ll be paying for everything.” Bucky added. “You wont have to worry about a thing. I’ll even pay for a housekeeper if you want so that [Y/N] doesn’t have to lift a finger the entire time she’s pregnant.”

“It’s going to happen either way.” Steve complained, “So it’s not like I have much of a choice.”

“No.” Bucky shook his head. “I won’t do it without your blessing. Your my best friend, Man.” Steve closes his eyes and thinks.

“A best friend who should have had your back the first time you asked.” Steve nodded. “[Y/N] is right, it’s her body, but for what it’s worth, I think you’ll make an amazing dad.”

“Great. Now can we all get back to dinner? I’m starving.” You asked walking back towards your seat. “What sort of details do we need to work out to get this started?” You looked to bucky as you picked up your fork.

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes FF #Bucky Barnes Fan Fiction #Bucky Barnes Fan Fic #Steve Rogers x Reader #Steve Rogers FF #Steve Rogers Fan Fiction #Steve Rogers Fan Fic

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