#aftermath as promised

[royalarchivist]

Jaiden: Cucurucho, you have a lot of power, right?

Cucurucho: ...I don't know. Maybe.

Roier: Ah... Yes, you know, don't act like a dumbass, you have it. You have it, man. Eh?

Jaiden: Is there a way for us to protect all the Eggs? Do you know? I don't want anything to happen to the Eggs that happened to Bobby.

Cucurucho: Ha ha ha

Roier: WHAT? [Smacks Cucurucho]

Jaiden: [Bops him] Headpats.

Cucurucho: Maybe.

Jaiden: [Continues to bop him] Headpats. C'mon, I can get it out of you! Headpats! Chin scratches! Belly rubs!

Roier: [Joins Jaiden in bopping Cucurucho, chuckling and laughs]

Jaiden: Yeah? He's comin' around!

[Jaiden and Roier both laugh]

[mercymaker]

𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍 & 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐄 ・ When the sun has set, no candle can replace it.

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Some doodles of my aus' G-men

[bekkachaos]

Okay but like, another thing with the conversation after the shooting, Eddie calls Buck "Evan", which (correct me if I'm wrong) is the only time that this happens? Because Buck knows love and friendship and that people care, sure he's insecure about it but he's felt it, but Evan? Evan is the one who grew up thinking he was unloved and unworthy of love. Evan is the one who was made to feel like he needed to break pieces of himself just to feel temporary love and affection. Evan is the one who felt expendable (not invincible, not indestructible).

And Eddie knows it, knows that Evan needs to know that all of that is untrue, that he's good and worthy and loved and needed.

[d011zk1ll]

I'm holding them at gunpoint rn

[morallygreyintrovert]

Spent hours of today in tears writing a particularly sad scene in my Destiel fix-it fic and I’ve had to call it for today because I’m feeling so bummed out and feel the need for a really strong drink…

No wonder Dean spent the entirety of the show inebriated, I’m only writing about his life and I’m depressed, imagine living it?

He has to have one of the most tragic story arcs for a character on any tv show ever!

[sesamenom]

Ar-Pharazon from the Reverse Gondolin AU and as Witch-King of Numenor - thanks to @who-needs-words for helping develop this idea!

[valdotpng]

[booasaur]

Warrior (2019) - 3x01

[liquidchocolatecake]

currently captive audience to a knock down drag out fight in my brain between desire to respect the wishes of the creator and not look for anyone redistributing the comic and god i fucking miss wonderlab i miss wonderlab so much you have no idea i want wonderlab back so bad

[creatively-cosmic]

POSTGAME

Red has won the championship. A prequel of sorts to the greater story of Missing Numbers. Told from Blue's POV.

CW: Suicidal ideation.

-

Before he got any closer, I made a grand effort to compose myself, puffing my chest out and shutting my eyes in what I hoped looked like a cocky expression, rather than me holding back tears.

“Well, I THOUGHT I hadn’t made any mistakes raising my Pokemon. But darn, I guess you’re the new Pokemon League Champion…”

I sneered at him, “Although I don’t like to admit it.”

I stuck my hand out, offering a shake as if to officiate yep, you did it, you’re better than me, good job in the way that I’d seen grown-ups do on TV. He just stared at it, still looking like someone had died, not like he’d just done the greatest achievement any Pokemon trainer could ever hope to do?

What an idiot. I couldn’t understand why he cared so much. It wasn’t like HE was hurt by any of this. He should be ECSTATIC. 

He opened his mouth, as if somehow this warranted him using his words. Before he could, though…

The door opened behind him.

If my stomach had already dropped, well. Now it was digging itself a grave.

[yeahbumbleby]

nothing broke me more in yesterday's episode than realizing that the only reason why ruby doesn't describe weiss to little when looking for blake and yang simply is because she thinks weiss made it to vacuo. girlie already racking up seven different kinds of breakdowns and she doesn't even know her best friend's presence on the island is going to introduce a brand new one... please pray for ruby rose because she's about to eat dust this volume

[curiouscalixte]

just finished writing a JJK fanfic in 30hours, feeling like God

[lunar-years]

this fic has turned kind of angsty tbh im so sorry everyone

[rifleseye]

sorry gonna be a little hater about lost light again after having just gone through it

every single time i'm like "maybe i'm being too harsh on lost light. maybe it's not as bad as i remember" and then i read it again and it's actually worse than i remember. it's so so dark in here.

[darsynia]

Sneak Peek: Shipping and Handling Ch 1

SERIES MASTERLIST | HAND(S) OFF MASTER | STORY LINK

Story Summary: Whether it's fair or not, you and Steve are chemically linked. The circumstances may have been unusual, but they aren't impossible to replicate, meaning there could be other couples going through the same thing. Dr. Bruce Banner has asked the two of you to submit to a series of tests over a period of weeks, tests that are meant to keep the side-effects you're experiencing at a minimum, but which also mean you'll be seeing more of each other.

As the days pass, two things become clear: proximity doesn't lift the ardor as much as Banner expected... and though you try to keep it to themselves, both you and Steve feel just as emotionally drawn to each other as you are physically. Are those feelings also prompted by Mistress? Is there any way to figure it out ethically? Will the new way you're both seeing Bucky make things worse... or better?

Length/Warnings: snippet is 530 / this is a horny (but not sexual) snippet, minors DNI

The guy at the security counter calls the apartment with a dubious expression that makes you worried about just how much like a vagabond you look, but eventually nods and directs you to an elevator.

“He’ll meet you in the hallway,” the man says, leaning into the elevator car once you’ve boarded to call out a code phrase you don’t recognize. He gives you one last once-over and adds, “It changes every week.”

When the door closes, your imperfect reflection in the silver coating has you scrambling to adjust the moist cling of your blouse on your breasts. Unkempt twists of hair are glued to your cheeks and forehead with perspiration, and you’d completely forgot that for an easy ego boost, you always apply performance-quality red lipstick for final rehearsal.

In short, the security guy had a point.

The doors open before you get a chance for a last once-over after your adjustments. The best you can do is a weird crossed-arms stance with your hands spread wide to obscure just how lovingly your damp red top is cupping your assets.

Thankfully, the man standing in the hallway is Bucky Barnes.

You rush out, dropping your hands to gesture at yourself with one as you laugh into the other. “Do you see this?” you ask, eyes wide. “I guess I’m lucky the guard downstairs didn’t call the cops instead of the apartment!”

Bucky trails his piercing blue eyes along your outfit, his expression impassive. For the first time ever in his presence, you feel a little objectified, but you shake that off. After all, you told him to look-- and given the growing appreciation in his gaze, he’s at least giving you a bit of a self-esteem boost. When Bucky’s finished, having followed through by taking in your pencil skirt and crimson sandals with his head tipped to the side, he finally looks you in the eyes.

“Nice toenail polish,” he smirks.

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” you gripe under your breath. “Please tell me you have a shirt I can borrow? They still have the heat on at the venue, Babs is tearing out her hair. If the forecast is right about how hot it’ll be tomorrow night, we’ll have to hand out free cups of ice to keep an audience.”

“Yeah, but we got a gauntlet to run before that,” he tells you. The apartment door’s open, and he stands to the side, gesturing for you to precede him.

“If it’s related to another set of metal doors and a scary British man telling me to hide, I’ll just walk home, spring heatwave or not.”

“She’s here?” Steve says from inside. He comes out right as you walk over, and both of you stop within inches of each other. “You’re late,” he says-- but the tone of his voice is the exact same stressed, desperate, needy one you’ve tried not to fondly remember. The words, ‘Oh, Steve, if you’re going for ‘stern,��� be careful! hover up as a possible response, but you can’t imagine saying them in anything other than your flirty lounge singer persona, and that would cross too many lines, especially today.