#and I genuinely think it would be Jesse

[hyugaruma]

It’s a good day to daydream about Jesse and that shitty little smirk of his

[14dayswithyou]

Teo's favourite number is 8 dawg

now would you say that Ren's obsession has turned into the great despair?

⌞♥⌝ Do you want me to start bawling in this empty McDonald's parking lot or what

[pezpenser205]

captain curly is one of those characters thats like. Yeah okay they were a bit of a bad person, but holy moly they didnt deserve THAT

[deletedelight]

DAVEKAT YURI BEAAAMM

[aliusfrater]

if sams blurry wife was indeed one of sams past love interests, who would you have wanted it to be. not like theres much choice tho but whatever

i started typing sarah then i remembered they brought her back just to kill ber but she was also engaged and had a kid so it couldn't be sarah :/ in my mind's eye eileen chose self preservation and left sam after god poofed her from existence Just To Get Back At sam and dean. that's very eileen. i want to say that it could be lori from 1.07 but she's a sam mirror so it wouldn't work out

it would be really really funny if it was lisa (she had been going for the wrong brother all along. at least this one isn't abusive) or amelia (like imagine the drama of amelia leaving her military husband for sam after All That Time). but there's also adi's idea that she's just cas in a female vessel which to me is cas rebounding after 15.18 but it's also why he wasn't in heaven when dean got there <- related but dj being a nephilim born to an angel mother is a really cool concept

[blackberry-jam]

That post about cannibalism becoming too mainstream and destigmatized by certain sections of the internet and therefore losing its weight and horror and visceral nature just has me thinking about how HABIT ate a baby and everyone was like oh lmao he’s just an edgy cool guy!!!! He’s just like me fr!! Haha!!! Which. I think not enough people are freaked out by the fact that he forced Evan to eat his own child raw and possibly alive. He mentions “the bones” and implies that it took awhile. Like that wasn’t Hannibal-style Brioche With Baby Pâté and Shredded Zucchini in a Plum Vinaigrette, he just opened Evan’s mouth and bit down until the job was done, and I think that says a lot more about Habit than people want to examine. Idk it just. has me thinking. The number of times hurting children comes up in entries and supplementary materials about HABIT is kind of overwhelming, really. I’ve seen people talk about how they think he’d draw the line at hurting children, but the source material goes out of its way to state otherwise- just about every time he’s in contact with children they die. Or worse. He’s the summation of the worst of humanity, the combined aggregate of all of our flaws and crimes, and one of those crimes is cannibalism, so honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if he made a habit (ha) of it.

[a-lesbianshadowinthenight]

was losing my mind trying to think of what lupe would call jess if they actually dated because i feel like jess would not like being called lupe’s girlfriend. and i think it’s very funny to think about lupe coming up with a new label every week, but they’re always really corny or stupid names like ‘my feral companion’ or ‘my butch lover’ to annoy or embarrass jess (who secretly enjoys it)

(if anyone has any suggestions to add pls share lol)

[stabbyfoxandrew]

This one's just for you. I'm a new one. I haven't actually said anything to anyone before. I just really want to thank you. I see you trying every week. And honestly it's really inspiring. And sooo beautiful how you keep showing us your beautiful mind. Thank you so much. Your mind and story telling is ingenious. 🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

y'all are killing me i gotta get off this dotcom before i start crying for real TWT

[stranger-awakening]

I went to a concert two nights ago at the band had a row of LED strobe lights behind them facing the audience that were flashing constantly, which effectively made them impossible to see. Strobe lights at concerts don't usually effect me too much but I've never seen a set up like that before. I've never been to a concert and had a very bright light flashing directly into my eyes which - naturally - is impossible to block out (in my experience, usually, lights face the band for what I assumed were obvious reasons).

So, I started to feel nauseous and because those lights did not stop flashing for multiple songs I realised this was gonna be the whole concert. This band was going to flash a ridiculously bright light directly into the people trying to watch them for seemingly the whole time and no one one their team designing their set at any point realised that was a ridiculously bad idea. So, I did something I've never done before and fully walked out of a concert 15 minutes in, and now I have intense, one-sided beef with one of my favourite bands

[coolcattime]

Playing Until Dawn got the first time where I'm actually the one holding the controller because I wanna play the full game and get my personal favourite ending before the movie and the remaster/remake comes out:

On one hand despite my typical shaking hand problems, I literally got no moment whatsoever in the first Don't Move, so I think playing that weird meditation minigame from Wii Fit Plus years ago has actually given me some benefit.

On the other hand, it had been so long since I have used a PlayStation controller and am struggling so hard to remember which button is which. I am very worried for the quick time events as this game progresses.

[neonsbian]

anne rice is addicted to creating new characters instead of expanding on and developing the ones that already exist

[ojacksonscohen]

finally watched kotfm and lily gladstone oscar winner confirmed. the scene on the stairs had me sobbing in my office

[milkbreadtoast]

Wait does Cedyes actually become a thing? I only follow the webtoon

i have not caught up with the novel (impossible for me to since there's over 800 ch and theyre not all translated) so I can't say anything about where the novel will go and what the "endgame" will be but as far as I'm concerned that's not important... as far as I can say, yes and no..?? TWSB isn't classified as a romance or a BL, so yeseo likely won't get a romantic "love interest" whether it be gay or straight, and my guess is the bond btwn the main trio will be akin to platonic soulmates... I can guarantee that yeseo and cedric won't be making out onscreen or anything... but at the same time imo if ppl don't pick up on the LGBT undertones (specifically with Cedric) then they are not reading it right (/lh i don't like to say anyones interp is "wrong" but... this is like saying killua isn't gay kdbfmd)

I'm just gonna give the answer I gave before and that my guess is it'll be like ORV where no it's not explicitly a BL, or romance, but YET its so extremely and soul crushingly romantic and they end up winning the 2023 tumblr yaoi awards over spirk and sasunaru (this actually happened

[character-kai]

Sometimes I mischaracterize breaking bad characters on purpose because it’s funny to see people get genuinely upset over it. And sometimes I write an hour long video essay as to why Jr was really the main character

[bruisedboys]

love drunk — miguel o’hara x reader

summary — while miguel deals with a drunk and clingy you, you accidentally let it slip that you love him. requested here

grumpy x sunshine!! spidergirl!reader, no pronouns used but implied fem!reader, grumpy miguel, kind of ditzy reader, drunk reader, established relationship, first ‘I love you’ trope, miguel being lovesick, fluff. so much fluff

nav

implied fem!reader 1.3k words

Miguel thinks he should never let you drink again in your whole life.

“Y/N,” he says through gritted teeth, irritated now. Actually, he was irritated ten minutes ago but was doing a better job at hiding it. “Come on. Get off me.”

You’re dead weight in his lap. He wouldn’t mind, he likes when you sit on him like this, only you’re in the middle of the bar and there are at least five Peter’s looking his way and smirking, and he can see Hobie Brown laughing at him behind his hand across the room.

“Whyyyyy?” You drawl, your lips slow and your tongue slower. You paw at his chest and give him a glare that’s about as menacing as a puppy. “You’re so mean.”

Miguel sighs heavily. He picks up his hands where they’d been hovering at your sides, unsure whether he should touch you or not when you’re like this, and gets a good grip on your hips.

“C’mon, get up,” he says. He lifts you off his lap with ease, fingers curling around your hips, and deposits you in the booth seat next to him.

To Miguel’s surprise, you don’t flop into his side or try to climb back onto him like he thought you would. Where seconds ago you were like a rag doll, you sit rigid straight.

“What?” He asks you, genuinely confused.

“Sorry,” you say quietly, frowning to yourself. “I didn’t mean that. You’re not mean.”

Miguel blinks at you. “Oh. No, that’s not why I made you get off, sweetheart. I know you don’t actually think I’m mean.”

Slowly, you brighten up like a wind up toy, springing back to life in slow motion with a big smile painting itself across your mouth, all teeth. “Oh, okay. Can I get back on you now?”

Miguel actually laughs. He’s very tempted to say yes, you can sit in his lap as long as you like. He doesn’t, mostly because you’re very obviously past your limit and you need a bed and some water. Neither of which he can get you here.

“You’re funny, cariño,” he tells you, chucking you under the chin with his knuckles. You beam up at him, eyes squinting so much they’re half closed. He indulges himself in a squeezing of your cheek before breaking the news, “No, you can’t get back on me—“ Your face falls, “—But I can take you to bed?”

Your smile comes back so quick it’s alarming, and you nod vehemently. “Yeah, please.”

Miguel manages to get you out of the Spider-Bar (nicknamed by one of the Peter’s, he can’t remember which but Miguel refuses to call it that. It’s just a section off the second floor of Headquarters where Spider-people migrate to drink.) without you tripping over your own feet. He’s discovering you’re a very clumsy, clingy drunk. That, and you really can’t hold your liquor. He’s only had a little less than you and he feels completely fine. Other than the burning in his chest, though he’s pretty sure that has more to do with you and your presence than the alcohol.

He gets you into an elevator and holds you up when you slouch into his side. His arm around your hip and both of your hands clinging like vines to his free arm, tight enough to ache but he can’t bring himself to ask you to loosen your grip a little. He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy your apparent desperation to stick to him like glue.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. A gaggle of Spider-Women wait on the other side, Jess among them. The younger girls giggle amongst themselves when they see the predicament they’ve caught their haughty boss in.

“Hey, Miguel,” Jess drawls as she sidles past him, Miguel practically dragging you out of the elevator now and out of the way of the girls. “Hey, Y/N.” She grins at your inebriated state, then looks to Miguel, “Early night?”

It’s almost midnight. Miguel can’t tell if she’s teasing or not. She probably is. “Yeah.”

“Miguel’s taking me to bed,” you pipe up, a lustful tone to your sticky, slurry voice that Miguel winces at. He hadn’t meant it like that. Clearly, your drunk mind had taken it that way. He’ll be sure to set the record straight once you’re safe and alone in his room.

Jess laughs loud. “Right. Well, have fun with that.”

She’s still laughing as the elevator doors slide shut. Miguel sighs. He’s not gonna hear the end of that for at least a week. You tug on his arm and smile up at him sweetly, and he forgets all about it.

“What is it, cariño?” He hums.

“Can you carry me? My feet are sore.”

Miguel indulges you. Partly because you’d asked and he’s yet again been tasked with the challenge of saying no to you (which he fails at every time), and partly because you’re slowing him down and he really wants to get to his room before he meets anyone else. He scoops you up easily, one arm hooked beneath your thighs and the other under your back. You giggle dazedly and hook your arms around his neck tight enough that it’d hurt anyone but Miguel, burying your face in his neck, your flyaway hair tickling his skin.

By the time he gets you to his room you’re half asleep in his arms. He’d let you sleep but your suit is constricting. He deposits you on the bed in the dark and switches on the lamp. He only manages to turn on his heels before you’re grabbing his arm, warm hand wrapping around his wrist with a clumsy desperation.

“Don’t go,” you murmur, eyes half closed.

Miguel pries your hand away gently. “I’m not going anywhere. Just getting your pyjamas.”

You allow it but you make a grab for him as soon as he’s back, hands warm at his waist. He stands in front of you and undresses you out of your spidersuit, then redresses you into the pyjamas you keep in his room. You keep quiet other than the occasional hiccup and despite your amorous comment earlier you don’t try anything, even when you’re completely bare-chested and Miguel is standing over you. While he pulls your shirt over you head, your hands find his hips and grip them like somebody’s trying to take him away from you.

He gives you a glass of water which you skull back like you’re about to die of thirst. He refills the glass and when he comes back you’ve turned the light off and buried yourself under the covers. He thinks you’re asleep until he goes to put the glass on the bedside table and your hand sneaks out of the sheets, reaching for him.

“Miguel…” you murmur, fingers brushing his abdomen. You tilt your head up towards him, searching for him in the dark.

“You okay?” He asks, concerned you’re not feeling well. He hopes you’re not the kind of drunk who throws up everything they drank. Though he can’t say he’d mind looking after you even if you were.

“I’m fine,” you say softly. It’s dark and he can barely see your face but he hears your next words just fine. “Thank you for looking after me … I love you.”

Miguel is so shocked he almost drops the glass of water he’s holding. Sure, he knew you had feelings for him. He knew you care for him about as much as he does for you, which is an inordinate amount. To hear you say it is different. His fondness for you multiplies by about a million and the chasm in his chest feels, not for the first time since he met you, a little bit smaller.

He knows you probably won’t remember it in the morning, but it’s been said and his chest is aflame. He sets the cup down and then crouches next to your lovely, tired face, and cups your cheek. He presses a soft kiss to your temple, and then your lips. Your eyelashes flutter as your eyes fall shut and you smile.

Miguel waits til he’s sure you’re asleep to say it back — vulnerability’s never really been his strong suit. He tucks hair away from your face, feeling a bit drunk himself. Just not from anything he drank. “I love you too, mi amor.”

[writing-for-marvel]

Take Me Home

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky starts fiddling with his dog tags while out with your friends.

Prompt: comforting one another

Warnings: mentions of Bucky’s past trauma but not detailed

Word count: 1.0k

A/N: this is my submission for @stellar-solar-flare’s Starry Winter Sky Event 💜 just a short fic as I get back into writing. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

You’re sure Bucky doesn’t even realise that he’s doing it, but it signals as clearly as if he had shot up a flare that he needs you.

The fingers of his flesh hand fiddle with the metal of his dog tags absentmindedly, nervously, and you can see by the distant gaze of his eyes that he has completely checked out of the conversation.

In all the time you have known Bucky, you’ve been aware of his short social battery, and though some people in your life put it down as him being ‘grumpy’, you know the real root cause is much deeper than him simply liking to keep to himself.

Making your way across the room, eyes watching him retreat even further into himself and turning over the dog tag with his fingers with every additional input of the conversation he had been involved with, your heart descends deeper into the cavernous pit his clear suffering is carving into your stomach.

You know Bucky well enough that he’ll suffer through this internal anguish because he thinks you want to stay at this gathering with your friends, rather than coming to find you right away so you can both retreat into the comfort of your shared apartment.

But you’re not about to let him endure this torment for a second longer.

“Hey guys, sorry to interrupt.” You cut across the active conversation, putting your arm around Bucky’s waist, snuggling up to his side, really not that remorseful about disturbing their discussion when you know the outcome will relieve your love of his pain. “My tummy isn’t feeling that great, Buck, do you mind taking me home?”

There is relief mixed with genuine concern for you in his baby blues when these words come out of your mouth that somehow make you love him even more - he’s currently bearing the brunt of his own pain for you, but the moment you mention a made up illness he’s more worried about your health than his own.

Bucky’s arms snake around you, finally releasing his fidgeting hold on his dog tags, as he places a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Of course my love.” Bucky says, only letting you go for a brief moment as you both say proper goodbyes to your friends, before he intertwines his fingers with yours and leads you out the door to start the short walk to your apartment.

It’s chilly outside the restaurant, a soft breeze making you shiver, and Bucky doesn’t hesitate to shrug off his jacket and place it around your bare shoulders.

Ever the gentleman your thoughtful, doting boyfriend is.

“Do you think it was something you ate?” It’s genuinely sweet how naive he can be sometimes, but you are also aware that it comes from a place of trauma where his brain can’t make the connection that anyone would do something selflessly for him simply because they love him.

“Bucky, I’m feeling fine.”

“But your tummy.”

“I could see you had used all of your social battery, and I know you don’t like to be the reason we leave places early, so I made it up.” He stops dead in the street. There’s a moment, a couple short breaths, when Bucky simply looks at you with wide, affectionate eyes, as if it’s taking him a moment to process what you have done for him.

“You made it up?” It’s not an accusatory tone, instead one that almost sounds astonished. You nod with a small smile. “So I didn’t have to be the reason we left?”

“Mhmm. I only want to be out places when we both want to be there. There is no reason for you to feel uncomfortable and have to endure that for me.” You caress his cheek, feeling the stubble on his jaw as he leans into your gentle touch.

“But darling-” He starts, but you trace your thumb over his bottom lip as a distraction and to interrupt, not to be rude, but to show Bucky you don’t play when it comes to his safety and comfort.

“No buts Buck. We’re in this together, you and me. If the roles were reversed, and you knew I was feeling out of place like that, would you have let me stay?”

His lips curl inward slightly, involuntarily, in a way you have come to know occurs when he doesn’t want to admit he’s in the wrong. Without speaking, with just a grateful look that communicates more than he could articulate with words, he kisses you ardently in the middle of the sidewalk.

“You don’t have to hide how you feel from me. I love every part of you, even the parts you try hiding away from the world. You’re safe with me.” Placing your hand on his chest, his eyes regard you with adoration - you’re not sure what thoughts are racing through his mind, but you can see the cogs turning behind his pupils.

“You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Bucky, when are you going to learn that unconditional love means no strings attached? You deserve to be loved wholeheartedly for exactly who you are. And I promise to do just that, for the rest of my life.” You can feel his heartbeat quicken underneath the pads of your fingers.

He encompasses your hand in both of his, leans forward and speaks with a low tone, for your ears only.

“I love you too. I promise, I’m really gonna try to do better with communicating how I feel. Old habits are hard to break, but I really would do anything for you.”

With that, Bucky pulls you close, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, like you’re his sturdy anchor grounding him as he tries to navigate the choppy, rough sea which has been his life. As you continue home, the weight of the evening slips away, replaced by the comforting feeling that regardless how traumatic his life has been up until now, you would always be a safe place for him to come back home to.

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