#and I think a little simplicity is useful =3

[rafesangelita]

⊹₊⟡⋆♡ cowboy!rafe always snuck into farmer's!daughter!reader's room to give her a goodnight kiss.. but what happens when their innocent little kiss turns into something much more?

warnings: sweet fluff, flirty banter, brief flashback, daddy kink lol, sneaking around, unprotected sex, dirty talk, rafe covering your mouth, crying, overstimulation

a/n: i’ll be opening req’s soon! lately here i’ve been wanting to get out some of my own prompts since over half of my works are all req’s.. but i’m excited to see what you girlies send me! find more of farmer’s!daughter!reader and cowboy!rafe here <3

wc: 1.2k

“open up, doll face.” you sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as rafe lightly tapped on your window. he made you so giddy, you scrambled up from the warmth of your sheets, unlocking the hatch before helping him climb in. “i thought you weren’t coming..” you whispered, pouting up at him as he snickered. “y’gotta have faith in me, sweetheart. when have i missed a goodnight’s kiss?” rafe cupped your face, both of you smiling against each other’s lips before melting into one another.

you always felt so warm and fuzzy inside when you and rafe got to share your secret little moments together, the simplicity of just being together without having to worry about someone catching you two made both of your hearts swell. rafe knew how to sweep you off your feet with a single kiss, a string of giggles tumbling from your mouth as he not-so-quietly threw you onto your bed. “rafe!” you scolded him, your heart beating in your ears as he slotted himself between your thighs.

“my daddy is next door! what if he hears..” you slapped his chest playfully, the man above you arching a brow. “daddy? i thought i was your daddy.” your cheeks heated in embarrassment when you recalled the quickie you two had in the barn not too long ago. rafe had you bent over a hay bale, his thrusts making you unable to speak until he asked you the golden question.

“hmmph! fuckin’ say it. tell me what i wanna hear, who’s your fuckin’ daddy?”

taking your bottom lip between your teeth, rafe smiled as he shook his head down at you. “you just thought about it, didn’t you?” snapping you out of your flashback daze, you laughed when he leaned down and pressed a wet kiss to the column of your throat. he smelled like soap, the slight stubble on his cheeks tickling your skin. as if your hips had a mind of their own, you grinded your clothed cunt against rafe’s thigh, a whimper leaving your lips at the lack of friction.

“hey,” rafe cupped your tits through your flimsy night top, “you thought i wasn’t coming tonight, right? that’s what you said.” your eyebrows knitted in confusion before a gasp slipped from your mouth. “yes..” rafe trailed a hand underneath the waistband of your sleep shorts. “so why don’t you have any panties on?” you froze, eyes flickering down to where rafe ran a finger between your folds. keening, you couldn’t help the moan from leaving your lips.

rafe stared at you for a moment, his eyes growing dark as he clamped a hand over your mouth. “i’ve been thinking about this pussy all day. ‘think you can stay quiet for me?” of course you couldn’t.. and rafe knew that. you stared at him with wide eyes, butterflies fluttering in your tummy when he took himself out of his pants. “i mean it. we don’t want your old man chasing me down with that shotgun of his, now do we?” you shook your head, your eyes fluttering shut when you felt the head of his cock prod at your entrance.

you shrieked, his hips rolling into yours as he slowly bottomed out inside your cunt. if it wasn’t for rafe’s hand muffling your scream you’re sure both of you would be in deep trouble right now. rafe rested his head on your pillow, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he started thrusting. feeling his weight on top of you like this had easily become your favorite thing, the closeness of it all made your heart sing. “fuck, i could never get used to this.. ‘feels like the first time all the time.” he grunted.

you held onto his wrist, your thighs hugging his waist as he kissed the side of your face. “taking me so fuckin’ good, you were made for me, yeah?” you whined, your eyes watering as rafe continuously hit that soft spot inside of you. your headboard started hitting the wall, a smirk gracing your boyfriend’s features. “rafe!” you whispered, tearing his hand away from your face. “s-slow down!” you attempted to push him away while simultaneously trying to keep your noises to yourself.

rafe picked up his pace, wrapping a hand around your throat. “can’t..” you shook your head, your chest rising and falling as the knocking of your headboard only got louder. rafe cursed under his breath when you cried out, working fast to get you turned over so he could push your head into the pillows. “what did i tell you?!” he scolded, landing a smack to your ass. you didn’t have any time to react to the stinging sensation on your backside, your orgasm washing over you once rafe started stroking your clit.

you fisted the sheets underneath you, biting down on your lip as white hot pleasure blinded your vision. rafe made no attempt to soothe you, instead he wrapped your hair around his fist, pulling you up as he nipped at the sensitive skin in the curve of your neck. “sweetheart?” you gasped when your father’s voice sounded from the other side of your bedroom door. you cleared your throat, frozen in place as your door knob rattled. “answer him.” rafe spoke in your ear, his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

“what?!” you stammered, heavy tears rolling down your cheeks as rafe continued to rub hard circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. “answer him or i’ll make you scream.” you wanted to shoot a sassy ‘you already did’, but you didn’t dare chance it. your chin wobbled, your mouth falling open in a silent moan. “y-yes?!” you called out, glaring at rafe over your shoulder when the sound of his hips slamming into you bounced off of the walls. “you alright in there?” you bit the back of your hand, your head falling weakly.

“is this a girl thing or somethin’, should i call your aunt?” your cheeks heated, a chuckle sounding from the man behind you. “no! i’m o-okay!” rafe pulled your hair again, his lips close to your ear as he whispered the dirtiest things you’ve ever heard. “what would your pops think, huh? catching his perfect little angel getting fucked like this..” your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your knees slipping out from under you when rafe pushed you flat on your sheets.

“alright.. goodnight!” you ignored your father’s voice, the only thing your brain allowing you to process was rafe cumming inside of you, his fingers digging harshly into the flesh of your hips. “shittt,” he hissed, “son of a— fuck!” it was his turn to cover his mouth, his muscles constricting as you practically milked him for all he had. you reveled in the feeling of his hot cum filling you up, the thick ropes still connecting you two even after he pulled out.

you sighed, both you and rafe panting in the small space that was your room. “you okay, doll?” rafe kneeled down at your side, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your lips. blinking at him, you nodded before pulling him next to you. “it’s really late..” you yawned, glancing at the little clock on your bedside table. “i know.” rafe grumbled. there was nothing he hated more than having to leave you like this. wrapping his arms around your waist, rafe waited until you fell asleep slipping out of your window again.

[quinloki]

Tagging X Reader Fics

Hey all - I saw this post going around and wanted to make an easy, two-cents kind of post to go with it.

Primary Point: If you want to keep your tags clean, Moonpaw's request actually helps. You can tag "x reader " "reader insert" and then just the character name. Instead of 4-5 different ways the fandom uses a character name plus all those variations of that name and x reader.

Example:

[ x reader, reader insert, donquixote doflamingo, doflamingo, doffy]

vs

[donquixote doflamingo x you, donquixote doflamingo x reader, doffy x you, doffy x reader, doflamingo x you, doflamingo x reader, doflamingo x y/n, etc.... ]

Secondary Point: I love Fantasticsnail's description of x reader as a sort of RPG journey style story. Sometimes there's parts of the character insert that need to be defined for the story's sake, and generally there aren't, and sometimes we define parts because it' comforts us as writers (and sometimes those variants aren't for everyone And That Is Okay Too.)

Just make sure you tag your stuff.

You can warn about other details in your CW or Notes prior to the story start. If you want folks to know you prefer y/n, or you use [name] or whatever, that's a good place to do it.

I'm not saying you *have* to do things this way, but too much variance in tags makes it hard for people to avoid what they want to avoid.

Just like you don't want to surprise someone with dark content unexpectedly, you don't want to surprise them with x reader or even canon x canon!

Everyone has a right to curate what comes across their dash, and please, remember, don't censor your tags T-T Nothing sucks more than being afraid of spiders, having that word blacklisted, and seeing spiders cause someone decided to tag #sp!ders or some such.

Tumblr tags aren't smart. Simplicity is best ^_^

[aeroring]

oh yeah btw i added like 3 more pronouns to my blog description because lol i felt like it

[thinkinonsense]

Logan thought of the day from a fan!::

Old man Logan being all domestic with someone around his age. I don’t think a lot of people think about the concept but I genuinely enjoy the thought of Logan having a wife he’s desperately in love with. Been married to for years on end 😭😭 him calling her sweet nicknames, combing her hair or buying her things he knows she loves.

(NSFW thoughts just for the hell of it: him still being an amazing lover in bed. Like sure the man isn’t as fast or agile as he used to be, but he can still absolutely ruin your shit. Pouring all of his love into you in the absolutely most animalistic manner possible before collapsing cause his back hurt like a mf)

You don’t have to write anything you’re uncomfortable with but those were just my thoughts! Love your blog, take care 🙂‍↕️💚

aw! this is such a cute concept! i'm currently working on a series rn but i wanna write a full blurb about this in the future<3

old man!logan with a mature!reader

over the years, you and logan have definitely been through some shit. full on yelling matches, jealousy, near death experiences, all of it. no matter what, he always comes back to you with those water colored eyes that you adored so much.

idk why but i think logan would enjoy the simplicity of doing things like laundry, cooking, and dishes together. he always says he wants to help you but somehow his hands sneak up your sweater and his lips always end up on your neck.

late at night, logan will pull you on top of his chest and play with your hair until you fall asleep. during the day, he will put your hair up for you or style it in a simple brain if you need his help.

old man logan loooovvveeesss passionate kisses. you're always running late to work in the morning because logan can't simply give you a quick peck on the lips.

when you two finally have the 'kids' conversation, something snaps in logan. he's constantly hard just even thinking about getting you pregnant.

logan definitely wants a little girl for many reasons but especially because he's worried that if he had a son, he would only inherit the worst of logan's traits.

the two of you never had an actual wedding and nothings official but logan gave you a ring that you never part with. neither of you need a piece of paper to prove your love to each other.

old man logan can still put it DOWN in the bedroom. it's not as rough or fast as it used to be but he still leaves you whimpering and seeing stars.

he thrives off of taking this slow. logan loves making your legs shake and building up your high.

he wears his wedding band on the same chain as his dog tags because he's afraid of it busting due to his claws.

you love putting on an old record late at night while he smokes and you lay in his lap, reading a book. just enjoying each others company.

you are the only person that gets to see logan in his most vulnerable state. he lets you wrap up his scars, clean his claws, kiss the tender and bloody flesh.

logan always promises that he's done fighting but you know the truth.

he's a sweet talker when your irritated at him.

one time you joke about getting old, something about wrinkles or not looking as pretty as when the two of you first met. logan doesn't let it slide. he spends all night long assuring you that you are still as beautiful as the day he first saw you.

[j-nope-not-today]

HP characters reaction to s/o being a muggle

Harry Potter

He does not care

Literally doesn't have an opinion on the subject

Bc he loves youuu and not your magic or non magical abilities

I really feel that his main concern is some snobby witch/wizard being rude to you

But could give a fuck less if anyone commented on you being a muggle

"Okay and? So what if she/he can't do magic. She's/he's still great in bed."

10/10 will say some snarky/sarcastic ass shit if someone is rude to you about it.

He is THE Harry Potter

He would probably love for someone to point it out so he can say some shit back about it.

He will defend you through thick and thin.

May god have mercy on whatever poor soul wants to be prejudice against you.

Will love doing muggle things with you. I mean he did grow up as a muggle.

Otherwise though he loves you and your muggleness very much. It reminds him of home ❤️

Ron Weasley

Aww your his little cutie patootie

Will brag about it to anyone who will listen

"Oh? Well my gf/bf made me dinner from scratch."

He'll brag about literally anything he can. It could be the simplest shit too

Is very impressed that you do everything and without magic too

He'll start doing things without magic just to appreciate the simplicity of it

But yeah..definitely tells everyone and their mom about how proud he is to be with you

Ain't no one gonna be rude about it either. He will guaranteed shut that shit down as soon as it starts.

Fred Weasley

He loves it.

Loves absolutely everything about it

Not to mention he loves it even more because romancing you is so much more fun for him

Will always pull a fancy magic trick from out of his sleeve to impress you or flirt with you

"For you beautiful"

Does complain about doing things without magic

But will begrudgingly do so to please you

But yes. He will complain about it the entire time

I don't think anyone would be ballsy enough to insult you or say some rude shit about you being a muggle

Knowing fred that would start world War 3

But he looooves you. Vv much

George Weasley

Admires you so so much

Bc how do you do it?

Will watch you do the simplest most mundane shit and come out of nowhere with a

"My god you look so fucking gorgeous right now love."

Wouldn't complain about helping you do stuff without magic

I think he finds he enjoys it much more without magic. It's more rewarding

Will beg to do muggle things with you absolutely wants to experience it all

Just like with fred. Ain't no one ballsy enough to say something lest they want to die

But he absolutely adores you and everything about you

And will remind you every day how much he loves you

Draco Malfoy

He didn't expect to end up with you

But he sure isn't complaining

And he'll be damned if you lift a single beautiful fucking finger when he's around

He will 100% dote on you in his every waking moment

For a second you might be convinced you aren't a muggle

He uses magic for just about everything and will not let you do something when he can do it for you

"Listen dear it's just simpler this way. Let me do it."

Your spoiled and he'll make sure you know how appreciated and loved you are

Can never wrap his head around muggles.

Thinks you make everything way more complicated than it needs to be

And should anyone be insulting or rude. They might find themselves hexed or cursed.

Neville Longbottom

This man LOVES you

Will not for a second let you think otherwise

And he'll probably absolutely love doing muggle things with you

And you will have a garden

I can just see him loving gardening with you. The muggle way.

Will randomly whip out flowers and small little gifts for you

Just to impress you

And he'll definitely have words for anyone who wants to be rude to you because how dare they?

To him. Your absolutely perfect

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a moment / Part 3

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.5k

Note : I’ve got so many people requesting to be tagged and for that I love you all! Please let me know if you wanna be tagged! P.s. I am just about to watch Agatha and I’m so nervous and excited at the same time!

Series Masterlist

“The Wandering Man”

Tuesday night.

When you got to Bucky’s place, it was quiet. 

Too quiet.

The lights were too dim, the air felt too still. The apartment had been waiting for something, or someone, to breathe life into it.

Bucky led you inside without saying much, only a few words of reassurance, and a few how are you holding up?s here and there.

He showed you to the guest room, small but comfortable and cosy. A soft bed was tucked into the corner under a window that overlooked the city lights. It felt both safe and strange, for reasons you could not quite comprehend yet.

You stood there, unsure of what to do with yourself. You didn’t know if you were supposed to feel relieved, maybe grateful? All you felt was confusion. 

Before long, he returned with a familiar-smelling cup of tea. It was your favourite tea, even though you could not recall ever telling him before.

Bucky he set the cup on the table. His smile was soft, almost practised, as if he had rehearsed how to be gentle with you. 

You stared at it for a moment, then back at him, before picking it up. The tea was hot in your hands, the steam curling in a way that should have felt comforting— but instead, the scent of it haunted you like a ghost haunted an abandoned house.

You took a sip. “You knew.”

“You always liked it.” Bucky offered a small, almost shy smile. “You used to make it for me when I had trouble sleeping.”

I wouldn’t accept it. I didn't think I deserved this, Bucky thought to himself, but he decided not to tell you. Yet. 

“You should get some rest,” Bucky said, his voice gentle. “It’s been a long day.”

You nodded, but the moment you sat on the centre of the bed, you knew sleep wasn’t going to come easily. The gravity of everything—the missing years, the lost memories— pressed down on your shoulders, making your chest constrict.

Bucky's quiet support, staying with a friend,  should have soothed you, but his kindness felt like an intrusion—a reminder that you were a stranger in your own life, occupying a space you no longer belonged in.

Wednesday.

The next morning, you woke to the scent of coffee. 

Bucky knocked lightly on your door before stepping inside, holding a mug. His smile was hesitant as he handed it to you.

You accepted it with a quiet “thanks.”

“Everything can be as slow or as quick as you like. Some of the others want to see you, but you don’t have to unless you’re ready.” He paused for a second, before saying, “You can stay with me as long as you want.”

His voice was calm, steady, trying to keep your world from spinning too fast. You nodded, weighing his offer.

As you sipped the coffee, warmth spread through your chest. It was perfect. The perfect amount of milk. The perfect amount of sugar.

He knew.

—

The conversation unfolded slowly throughout the day, a gentle ebb and flow that mirrored the tentative trust being rebuilt between you and him. 

At first, it was just small talk, safe topics that didn’t demand too much of either of you—things like the weather, the view from his apartment, the streets below. As the day wore on, the conversations grew a little deeper.

“You’ve lived here a while?” you asked, glancing around the living room, noting how sparsely decorated it was. There was a sense of calm in the simplicity, but with it a hint of reluctance to make this space feel truly like home.

“Yeah, a couple of years now,” Bucky replied. “It’s not much, but it’s quiet.”

You nodded, sensing the weight of his words. “Quiet can be good,” you chuckled, almost cathartic. “I guess I don’t really know what I need right now.”

His blue eyes were understanding, though you could tell there was something hidden behind them. “That’s okay.”

You offered a small, grateful smile. 

The longer it stretched, the more peaceful the silence became. You were not friends yet, not really. Not him and this version of you.

But if you trusted him before— and your instincts told you that you did— he must be a good person. 

So far, you enjoyed his company, and he did not demand friend out of you, not the same way Sam did. 

He was not disappointed by your lack of acknowledgement. He just seemed to be happy you were there.

For now, you could just live in the present, as if standing at the edge of a doorway without needing to cross it just yet.

Then, after sensing your ease, he shared a memory, trying to fill the gaps that were left in your mind. 

“Do you remember the time we went hiking outside the city? I think it was after Happy’s birthday party. Everyone else was hungover, but you dragged me out at the crack of dawn.”

You blinked, trying to pull the threads together, but nothing came. “I don’t... I don’t remember.”

“We got lost for hours.” Bucky smiled faintly, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “You swore you knew the way, so I didn’t bother questioning you. I just followed.”

“I-I’m sorry.” you said quietly, unsure of what the nature of the memory was.

“No, no.” He chuckled lightly. “We ended up finding this little stream. We just sat there for a while, didn’t talk much, just... listened.”

You tried to picture it, to feel that day as vividly as Bucky seemed to, but all you could grasp were shadows. “I wish I could remember.”

“You will. Or you won’t. Either way, it’s okay,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. But beneath the calm mask he put on, Bucky’s thoughts churned. 

He had secretly loved that hike. But when you coaxed him out that day, he had been cold, distant, as always. He had criticised everything you did, grumbled when you got lost. 

But you? You were calm that day, as you had been every other day. You were patient with him. You had seen that he needed to get out of his apartment, see the world that he inhabited for once. 

You pulled him out of the darkness that day. Kept him sane. 

God, I’m sorry... for everything you don’t remember. For everything I said and for everything I didn’t, he thought to himself. 

He didn’t let it show, though, didn’t let his guilt fade into the background. Instead, he focused on the present, the small victories of connection that he made with you, hoping it would make up for all the distance he put there before.

—

Later, after ordering dinner and eating quietly, you sat together on the couch. 

You mustered up all the courage you could find asked him something that had been on your mind. “What was I like?”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, knowing he needed to choose his words carefully. “Strong. Stubborn,” he told you. “Kind. You always saw the good in people.”

You stared at him, searching for any clues of insincerity and found none, though the tremble in his lips suggested there was more to his answer than he was letting on. 

Still, it was hard to reconcile the person he described with the emptiness you felt now. Hearing him talk about you—about her—you began to understand why everyone seemed so hurt about losing who you became in the last four years.

You nodded, trying to imagine that version of yourself. “It’s hard to picture.”

Bucky glanced down. He found it hard to picture who he was before all this, too. 

He had changed so much in the past few days. He had changed so drastically in the way he treated you, that he was torn between whether he should remind you of what he'd said before your mission.

His own words echoed in his head: ‘I feel like I can't breathe around you.’

Seeing you like this, disoriented and vulnerable, he questioned if you really needed to know how cruel he'd been before.

For now, the guilt of it now belonged to him alone. 

He knew he would have trouble hiding the ache in his chest, knowing that he had hurt you, knowing that he had pushed you away when all you had ever offered was kindness.

But maybe that thrumming pain was worth it.

This was his second chance. 

He could be better. He could finally be the friend you deserved, even if you never remembered what had happened between you. 

He could be patient, he could be there for you, without the burden of the past hovering over every word. Bucky didn’t know if you would ever regain your memories, but for once, he didn’t need to fix things. 

All he had to do was be there.

“You don’t have to picture it,” he said gently, “you’re still that person.”

As you spent the rest of the evening getting to know him, he realised how much he had missed this—your presence, your laughter, even the way you furrowed your brow when you were lost in thought. He had been so afraid of it before, afraid of getting too close. 

Almost losing you had shaken him to his core. This time, he wasn’t sure he could survive pushing you away again.

So, he didn’t.

Thursday. 

Bucky stood by the door of the medical bay, his posture tense. He watched carefully as the doctor completed the exam. 

He had taken you back to the compound to see a doctor, to get you properly discharged. You did run out, after all. 

You sat on the table, blinking against the harsh lights, your mind struggling to clear the fog that clung to your thoughts.

The doctor's explanation confirmed what Bucky had already suspected. The confusion, the disorientation—it was all normal after what you'd been through. He had said it was a good thing you were staying with a familiar face, though you didn't have the heart to tell him he wasn’t familiar to you.

Everyone around you just told you that he was.

When the doctor finished, Bucky gently helped you down from the table. He guided you through the sterile hallways, bringing you home to his apartment.

Friday. 

Bucky’s bathroom was dimly lit, a faint glow from mirror nightlight casting uneasy shadows against the walls. You stood in front of the mirror, hesitating to look at the reflection that would greet you. 

You’d avoided it until now, not wanting to confront the parts of yourself that didn’t make sense. The parts that didn’t look like it belonged. That didn’t look feel it belonged.

But today, after hours of consideration and glancing at your reflection, you dared to lift your eyes to meet the unfamiliar person staring back at you.

The image of your own face was uncanny. 

The ends of your hair were frayed and split, the wear of weeks without proper care was evident. 

There were the scars. Angry, jagged lines that trailed down the side of your face, ghosting over your cheekbone, one disappearing into your hairline. Those were the scars from the last mission, they had said. The head injury that cost you your memories. 

Your eyes trailed down, seeing bruises scattered across your shoulders, deeper marks that told stories your mind couldn’t piece together.

You lifted your hand, making sure your reflection followed you. Making sure this was still you— and it was.

You didn’t recognize this person.

You didn’t recognize yourself.

The grief that you had been avoiding for days struck like lightning— the years stolen from you. The friends you couldn’t remember, the disconnect your soul felt from your body. Your chest tightened as tears spilled over, and you clutched the sink, knuckles hurting.

Keep yourself together.

You’re stronger than this, dammit.

The bathroom door was barely ajar, but it was just enough for Bucky to catch the muffled sound of your quiet sobs. 

He knew how disorienting it was— how painful it could be, waking up and not recognizing your own life. 

He stepped closer, knocking on the door before opening it. "You okay?"

You quickly wiped your eyes, straightening your posture. You tried to compose yourself before he could notice, but you didn’t know you were too late.

“Yeah,” you sniffled, forcing a shaky laugh. “It’s just… I think I need a trim. My hair’s a mess.”

Bucky nodded, the lines of his forehead softening. He knew that wasn’t why you were crying, but he didn’t pry, didn’t push. If you needed time to admit to him— or to yourself— how much you were hurting, he would wait, even if it meant waiting forever.

“I can help,” he offered quietly. "I trim my own hair. I’ve got the scissors for it."

You hesitated, biting your lip. “That would be good.”

Bucky left for a moment, returning with a small set of scissors and a comb. The nothingness between you was gentle, not awkward at all. 

Bucky stood behind you, his touch careful as he gathered your hair, brushing through the tangled strands.

His hands, though large, moved with a delicacy that you didn’t realise he was capable of. He barely spoke as he worked on your hair, methodical and focused. 

You couldn’t help but notice how close he was, the soft sound of his breath on your ears. His metal fingers occasionally grazed the back of your neck, sending a slight shiver through you.

"The scars and bruises," he said softly after a few moments, as if he could sense your tension. “They’re a part of you. Doesn’t mean they’re all of you.”

You wanted to believe him, but it was hard to see anything beyond the damage when you didn’t know where it came from. 

It was hard to accept the version of yourself that had come out of that mission that had ruined your life, though you didn’t even remember how.

“I don’t even remember how I got them,” you whispered, your voice thick. 

“But that doesn’t change who you are.” Bucky paused, his hands still in your hair for a brief moment. “It doesn’t change what you mean to me.”

Your breath hitched at the implication of his words, but you didn’t say anything. 

He resumed trimming, the sound of the scissors snipping through the strands echoing in the room. 

“You’ve got a lot of split ends,” he said. "I’ll take care of them."

You managed a soft laugh, despite the tears still burning at the corners of your eyes. “Thanks, Bucky.”

He continued working in silence until he finished. 

“There,” he said, setting the scissors down and stepping back to admire his work. “I think you look beautiful.”

As you once again looked into the mirror, you looked a bit more familiar. 

Bucky had trimmed your hair from memory, from what he remembered it looked like when you first joined the team, hoping it would help. 

“Bucky?” You called after a moment of silence.

“Hm?” He replied.

“Do you think our friends can start visiting next week?”

-to be continued…

Taglist: @hzdhrtss @irisk12 @tayyyystan @seventeen-x @lomlbuckybarnes 

@greatenthusiasttidalwave @avatarofthetimelords @bckynatt @winchestert101 @zemosprincesa 

@nngkay @hiireadstuff @sapphirebarnes @thatesqcrush @bethexo07 

@florie1 @nyutasgirl @coraliix @harrysgothicbitch @jules-and-gemss

@infqnitysblog @isnow-0r-never @roofwitty779 @baw1066 @wasalreadyhere

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[letsgetrowdy43]

A room of our own—

Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

Request: Hi! I’m not sure if we can combine the prompts but if so could I please request 🐞with the prompts, “Okay, we need to decide whose bedroom it is that's going to be ours from now on. I feel like I'm back in high school, sneaking from one to the other every second night!" (Roommates to lovers), and hearing them snore a little for the first time, maybe the snoring is small, quiet and you can't help but giggle since it's kind of cute, or maybe it's quite loud and you realize you plan to spend the rest of your life with this. With Jacky, love your writing!!

Warnings/notes: Thank you so much love <3 This is a little suggestive, but sos so sweet so please enjoy!!

End of summer celebration!!

Jack stirred awake, the early morning sunlight filtered through his linen curtains. A yawn erupted from his mouth as he turned on his side to be face to face with his girlfriend, eyes still fighting off sleep as he noticed that she was already awake. His girlfriend lay on her side, propped up on one elbow, watching him with a soft smile as he reached out her hand to fix his messy curls, grinning at his bedhead as he caught her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of her wrist.

She had grown used to waking up and seeing him first thing in the morning, but today felt a little different— waking up under the same covers as him, limbs tangled with his felt like the start of something more permanent.

“Morning,” she whispered, brushing a few strands of hair away from his forehead. He smiled sleepily, reaching out to pull her closer, his face buried in her neck as he soaked up the intimacy of waking up with her by his side. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep as she smiled into the crown of his head.

She hesitated for a moment before speaking, her tone light but with a hint of seriousness as she thought back to the night before—the whispered conversations, the laughter, the warmth of their bodies pressed together under the covers. “Okay,” she began, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back, grinning at the feeling of his gentle grasp on her hips as he pulled her hips to his, “we need to decide whose bedroom it is that’s going to be ours from now on. I feel like I’m back in high school, sneaking from one to the other every second night!”

Jack lifted his head slightly, blinking away the last remnants of sleep as he processed her words. A slow smile spread across his face, and he chuckled softly. “Yeah, it’s about time we figure that out, huh? Feels like we’ve been playing house without actually picking the house.” She giggled, the sound vibrating through him as he held her close. “Exactly! I mean, it’s fun sneaking around, but I think it’s time we make it official. No more sneaking.”

He grinned, his fingers brushing along her side. “Agreed. Let’s pick our spot. Maybe we should just flip a coin.” She laughed, shaking her head at the simplicity of his suggestion. “Or we could, you know, think about it logically? Your room is closer to the bathroom, but mine has better light and decor…”

Jack smirked, leaning in to kiss her lips, a slow, mind-melting kiss that had her brain foggy the second he pulled away to smirk as he continued their conversation “Or we could just alternate, keep things interesting.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re impossible, you know that?” Jack shook his head as he flipped himself on top of her and began pressing kisses to her exposed skin, "I. Am. Not," he said in between the sloppy kisses.

She laughed at his lack of seriousness before her hands cupped his cheeks and pulled his face up to look at her, "if you want to think logistically, my room is cuter and it is the furthest away from Luke," her eyes telling of what she was implying as the kisses stopped and he grinned at her genius. "You're so smart," he kissed her collarbone, "I don't know how I got so lucky," he pressed a second kiss to her sternum as she laughed at his lust-blown pupils.

She laughed, her hands still cradling his face as she looked down at him. “Well, you’re not too bad yourself,” she teased, her tone playful as she ran her fingers through his messy hair. “But seriously, if we’re going to be sharing a room, there’s something else we need to address.”

Jack paused, lifting his head to look at her with a curious expression, a grinning pulling at his lips, expecting a cheeky joke, “Oh? What’s that?” She hesitated for a moment, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheekbone, “You snore. Loudly.”

His eyes widened in mock horror, and he immediately rolled off her, sitting up on the bed, “I do not!” She couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction, sitting up beside him and poking his side as she grinned at his dramatics, “Oh, but you do! It’s like a little rumble, but you know what? It’s actually kind of cute.”

Jack groaned, burying his face in his hands for a moment before peeking at her through his fingers, as she dipped down once again and kissed the scar on his shoulder, “You think my snoring is cute?”

She nodded, her smile softening as she reached out to take his hand, their fingers intertwined as she scooted closer to his side. “Yeah, I do. It’s just… you. And if I’m being honest, I don’t really mind it. It’s part of what makes this whole thing—” she gestured between them, “—feel real. Like we’re really doing this, you know?” Jack’s expression softened, and he squeezed her hand, pulling her even closer until their foreheads touched. “Well, if you can put up with my snoring, then I guess I can handle your room being ‘cuter’ than mine,” he said with a grin.

She laughed, leaning in to press a sloppy, teeth clashing, smile wide kiss to his lips, the playfulness of the moment blending with the deeper emotion they both felt. “Deal,” she whispered against his mouth.

As they lay back down, tangled in each other once more, the thought of Jack’s snoring no longer seemed like an issue. It was just one of the many little things that made their relationship theirs—imperfect, but perfect in its own way.

-

-

-

[alivegirldetectiveagency]

The show gives us very little information about edwin’s life. i’m pretty sure all we know is (1) he read detective stories (2) is father would call crystal a bobtail (3) he was presumably bullied (i say presumably because the ritual could have been a first incident but i find that unlikely just cause. the severity of it)

i hope we learn a little more if we get a season 2 because i think edwins childhood would give interesting insight into him (this goes for all the characters actually) but i think we can make a lot of assumptions about what his life was like based off the time period

(disclaimer: i am not an expert by any stretch of the imagination, so i apologize for any inaccuracies)(and for any typos)

this post got kinda long so the rest is under the cut

edwin lived from 1900-1916 which mostly encompasses the edwardian era (1901-1910). for the purposes of this post i will be talking as if it was all edwardian for simplicity and also because the last few years of the victorian era and the first few years after edward vii would have been very similar. i am also operating under the assumption the paynes were upper class because (1) vibes (2) edwin is very formal which would have been emphasized the most in the upper classes (3) he had the time and money to go to boarding school which still wasn’t very accessible (although education was growing in importance)

the importance of childhood was growing in the era and there was a lot more leisure time and entertainment. still, etiquette and manners were very important so there would have had the “seen and not heard” attitude towards children. in upper class families, child rearing would have been done by a nanny and not the mother. the father as head of the house would have been strict and interacted little with the children. so edwin probably saw very little of his parents while growing up even before boarding school. since edwin was a son his father might have taken him out for things like shooting/hunting but that would have been just him and his father (and brothers if he had any). also edwin does Not seem like he would have enjoyed that so i dunno if much bonding would have occurred during those outings. family time in general would be rather brief. He would have had more time spent with siblings his age since younger children would have spent most of their time in the nursery/with the nanny.

i’m going to brush past the school life part because i do not know much about it other than that he would have started at st Hilarions around 13. and that i’m pretty sure corporal punishment was used in boarding schools like it at the time? (not entirely sure on that front it depends on if the school is state sponsored) we can infer from the show that edwin did not have a Great time at school but i don’t know what the specifics would have been like

etiquette was very very important. i don’t think the edwardian era was quite as strict as the victorian era but there was still a LOT of social expectations. including the perfect posture george rexstrew does as edwin. etiquette would also include addressing everyone properly and limited affection. you also wouldn’t really touch anyone! not to get their attention or shake hands in greeting or clapping someone on the back. Self control was everything even in times of excitement or distress. Social classes were very strict although the industrial revolution created the neavue riche so social mobility was not impossible. new rich families often tried to adapt the traditions of the (aristocratic) upper class but integration was slooow. (Middle class families would adopt trends from the upper classes too). while formality was important, language in general was simplifying partially due to mass newspapers. if you’ve ever read Oliver Twist or another Dickens story, the language is very verbose and hard to follow which is par the course for victorian literature but less so for edwardian literature.

speaking of literature and entertainment we know edwin liked detective stories. he reads a max carrados story (which started in 1914) to charles and in edwin’s death flashback you see him with a detective penny/dime novel (in the scene you can read “The Aldine Tip Top Tales, High Hat Harry” and google tells me the rest of the title is “The Base Ball Detective”). Edwin probably also read Sherlock Holmes which was still popular. Growing up he might have Peter Pan/Peter and Wendy (the title changed after its initial publishing in 1904) and The Tale of Peter Rabbit (1902). And more short stories and dime novels (like the Aldine company ones) since they were getting very popular at the time. Entertainments like the Winter Gardens and Pleasure Beach in Blackpool were also growing popularity. but generally outdoor upper class entertainment would have been tennis, hunting, or racing. (fun fact the 1908 summer olympics was in london so edwin might have watched it as a child!) there also would have been a lot of dinner parties but those would have been for the parents to maintain or increase social status and not necessarily include the children.

overall edwin’s childhood probably included a lot of extravagant entertainment. He would not have spent much time with his parent so unless edwin had siblings his early childhood would have probably been lonely. canon does not suggest he really made friends while in school either.

Canon and fanon has touched on how edwin’s social skills took a hit from being in hell for 70 years (which is definitely true). But on top of just escaping hell, edwin is using knowledge/skills from a vastly different social era when he first meets charles. it must have been really jarring the first few years of being friends because charles’s ideas/experiences with friendship were WILDLY different than edwin’s

[soaringwide]

Pick a Card: What makes you feel alive and inspired in life?

PILE 1 🩷 > PILE 2 🩵 > PILE 3 ❤️

We are all driven by different things, and it's easy to lose track of that when you are distracted by the noise of the world.

Today, I want to look at what lights up your spark, what makes you feel alive and inspired in life.

Whether you want to simply get to know yourself better, or get a little reassurance in a difficult time, this reading is meant to be empowering and uplifting, and help you remember what makes life feel soulful for you.

Remember that this is a general reading meant for many people. Take what resonates and leave out the rest. Never forget that you are the leader of your own life and you make the call on what you want to do, believe and think, or not.

If you like my style, feel free to check out my paid readings on ko-fi or the link bellow.

book a reading ★ all PACs ★ pinned post ★ instagram

PILE 1 🩷

Cards: The River, Ace of Cups, Judgement, the Devil, the Hermit, 3 of Pentacles

Life is a flowing journey for all, but you take it to heart.

You feel the most alive and inspired when you embrace what the great current of life brings to you in order to wash away the decaying parts of yourself and shed your old skin.

To you, life is all about transforming yourself. The Existential Grindstone putting pressure on what needs to change and forcing you to be born anew. You do not like being stagnant, for murky waters poison your sense of purpose. You like movement within yourself, and knowing that you are always growing, always learning and expanding.

You are not scared to go into the depths of yourself to face your own limitations and shortcomings. There is a humming in your heart, a whisper calling for change. You are an eternal student of life, dedicated to becoming a better person and experiencing life in its purest form: as a journey toward yourself. There is a well of patience and a vivid energy in you, merging wisdom gained from experience and the pure heart of youth.

There is a subnote about healing here, and I think, one some level, you feel the most soulful when you manage to shift things within you and witness the metamorphosis happening within yourself, so that you can sooth your pains and let go of the past. I see you being hyper aware of the darker or heavier aspects of yourself, and you are not scared of them because you know that within them lie the opportunity to bring more light, to expand and rise above. To break the chains stopping you from feeling truly alive.

I also believe that you wish for a fairer world, and that you know that it all start with yourself. And while appearing very in tune with your deeper self, which implies holding the most tender part of yourself secret, I know that you do not lose sight of the world around you, and that by building yourself, you can help build a better world too.

You will feel unaligned with life when you swim against the current. The world is a river carrying you and connecting us all, and in this life, you will feel the most alive and inspired when you accept to flow with it, to let events and people shape you, helping you build yourself, helping you write your own unique story.

PILE 2 🩵

Cards: The Castle, Death, 4 of Wands, the Lovers, Page of Pentacles, 10 of Cups

For this pile, I'm getting that you are well aware of the illusions of materialism and consumerism, and that you don't want to get lured in by dulling comfort and shiny luxuries. Most people accumulate things to build walls around them and to fill the void inside their soul, and it is possible that you were like that at some point, but you realized it led nowhere and embraced a deep change of your way of living and experiencing life.

I think your soul craves simplicity and honest connections with people, and that you feel the most alive when you manage to break away from the decadence of our post modern way of living next to each other (rather than truly together) and obsession with accumulating senseless things. "Why do we constantly need more, and when is more ever enough?" Could be a pretty significant idea for you and something your draw inspiration from.

You see this issue clearly and feel inspired by the dream of a more authentic and open world, and world that you could share with people you love and cherish.

It's like you want life to be a great party where everyone is equal and we all have enough to live and love freely, and when you manage to dive into that, do your part on your level, you feel invigorated, inspired and alive. It's also possible that you seek situations that encourage this feeling and feel inspired by that. Little moments of truth stolen from the surrounding madness that you see in the world.

I think connecting with people, from friends and family to heartfelt exchanges with strangers, is so important to you and make you feel soulful, and I see you either dreaming to have your own love nest (family of any kind, or community), or already having it and feeling the happiest when you can share these simple and authentic moments with your loved ones.

Life is a gift to be experienced with others, what is the point of living if only for yourself?

PILE 3 ❤️

Cards: The King, the Magician, 10 of Cups, 4 of Cups, 7 of Wands, Ace of Wands, Strength

You are someone who feels the most alive when you can lead the way and leverage your influence, skills and knowledge for the greater good and happiness of those around you.

You have a strong and proud soul, a regal heart and you know you can do lot of good with your positive influence, be it by protecting, leading or inspiring others to do more and better.

You are highly motivated and dedicated to make your wishes happen in the world. You feel highly stimulated when you are pushed to overcome struggles and obstacles, when you can rise above and prove yourself. You are highly resilient and will not let others make you feel small and weak. On the contrary, I think that inspires you to expand and become a greater version of yourself.

For you, time spent waiting passively for life to bring you what you want is wasted time. You find indecision and uncertainty distasteful and always strive to become more. The world will not open its doors for you if you do nothing, and you find that extremely stimulating and it gives you a sense of purpose that make you feel alive.

You might be someone who collects hobbies and passion because you enjoy learning and expanding your range of skills. You feel the most alive when you feel busy and can work hard on something you set your mind to. You want to be a master at many things, and you enjoy the process of reaching that point more than the actual end of the journey.

You want to be able to show the world all that you have accomplished, and it's pushing you forward and keeping your inspired.

[aithusarosekiller]

I see you all saying that Sirius is the pretty much the only one with 'Reg/Reggie' nickname privileges and I raise you: The obligatory sibling-assigned stupid nickname that nobody else uses bc he already goes by a better nickname everywhere

Most people can get away with shortening his name to 'Reg' bc of laziness/simplicity (he gives up trying to correct them after a while) and a few friends and family can manage a 'Reggie' in the right situation (it's thin ice though) and at some point Sirius decided he wanted a stupid nickname to use when he chose to be annoying bc why did everyone just settle for the easiest one?

Enter: Lulu and Regsy. Possibly the two dumbest nicknames there are.

Literally nobody else uses them bc 1) they sound ridiculous, 2) he'd hex them, and 3) who would even think of such silly nicknames?

Sirius uses them though. Not frequently, he usually says Reg like everyone else or full names him when he's angry.

But when he wants to mess around? Suddenly it's' Hey Regsy, can I ask a favour,' 'OI, LULU LMAO' Obviously Regulus finds it INSUFFERABLE. Whenever he hears Lulu (he HATESSS this one) he knows he's gonna get something thrown at his face or he's about to be bullied into an early grave. When Sirius pulls out the faux-sweet little 'Regsy' he's being asked to cover for him or lend him something. He is forever glad the names don't catch on with most people.

[shirecorn]

Shirecorn's Ponyverse Masterpost

So for the last 2 months I've fixated on doing redesigns based somewhat loosely on My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. I've had so much fun filling in the gaps and extrapolating until my version is less of a redesign and more of an AU.

"Ponies" are three species of sentient hoofed creatures that populate Equestria. They worship giant goddesses that fill the sky and ferry the moon and sun across the world.

Tag navigation

#Shire draws mlp - drawings only. Leaves out the lore

#Skyscraper gods lore - drawings, posts, and asks that expand on the world. Talks about biology, genetics, ritual, society, politics, religion, but mostly creature design and magic.

#Skyscraper Gods - Art, asks, posts, and fanart! Everything to do with both my little pony canon and my version of things. Includes drawings without lore, and lore without drawings. This is the tag to browse to make sure you see it all

Characters

In progress: Discord

○ The Mane Six ○ All Alicorns,

○ Rarity ○ Fluttershy ○ Flutterbat ○ Applejack ○ Pinkie Pie ○ Pinkie Pie Pegasus ○ Rainbow Dash ○ Twilight Sparkle ○ Raritwi ○ Spike

○ Princess Celestia + Princess Luna ○ Princess Cadance + Shining Armor + Flurry Heart ○ Sunset Shimmer ○ Sunburst ○ Apple Bloom + Scootaloo + Sweetie Belle (Cutie Mark Crusaders) ○ Big Macintosh/Ochard Blossom (she is a woman) ○ Granny Smith ○ Mr & Mrs Cake + Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake ○ Maud Pie + Mudbriar ○ Trixie Lulamoon + Starlight Glimmer ○ Cozy Glow ○ Zephyr Breeze ○ Escape Room Guy + Dusty Pages ○ Berry Punch/Berryshine ○ Vapor Trail ○ Bulk Biceps ○ Tempest Shadow ○ Flim and Flam ○ Queen Chrysalis + Thorax + Ocellus (Changelings) ○ Autumn Blaze (kirin) ○ Rain Shine (kirin leader) ○ Sky Beak (hippogriff) ○ Starcatcher and Skywishes (G3)

Lore

○ The 3 pony species ○ Breeding/genetics ○ The 4 Alicorns stories ○ Gods of non-pony species? Seapony god? ○ Unicorn Horns: Starlight physics, Different shapes, Alicorn horns, Horn colors, ○ Where did Spike come from? (1) (2) ○ Your daughter has won the favor of God (fic) ○ Nightmare moon playlist ○ Cutie marks are cultural not physical: (1) (2) ○ Starlight Glimmer's hometown and her cult ○ Alicorns don't fit inside buildings ○ Discord is a headache to behold ○ Government in the world of gods ○ Gender and matriarchy ○ Scootaloo's flightless disability ○ Equestria Girls Vs Skyscraper Gods, existential horror ○ Pinkie Pie breaks the forth wall because she hopped worlds once ○ Vampire fruit bat ecology and virus ○ How ponies caught it

Meta

○ Using Skyscraper Gods as inspiration (2) ○ Why I like expanding on MLP: its simplicity ○ MLP Creature designs are already good ○ If you don't like my designs ○ I'm just having fun: (1) (2) ○ Mane 6 doodle to finished design ○ After ponies ○ Designing based on birds and animals ○ Starcatcher dove

Shitposts and Doodles

○ My fursona in mlp style ○ Daytime! Nighttime! ○ Baby god ○ Local horse fistfights the sun ○ Shining armor alicorn ○ Sunset shimmer becomes god (2) ○ Poodle rarity ○ Zephyr Breeze thinks RD is a man ○ Season 9 ○ Why is EQ an hour long ○ Being held at gunpoint to watch Equestria Girls ○ World's gayest dash ○ 18 pounds of crake

Fanart by others

○ Fanart tag

Commissions

○ People request a lot and that normal ○ Prices are low because I'm already fixated

Ko-fi requests || Classic commissions

Shirecorn Discord

Join any tier of my patreon to access my art discord

○ See WIPs, discussion, the occasional meltdown, and more ○ The content is all done through discord, so if the patreon looks dead it's all just on the server instead.

I hope you enjoy seeing my MLP creations as much as I enjoy making them!

[lovebvni]

repetition (a pick-a-pile)

in honor of my friends kai ( @klxudykai )and nile (who doesn’t want to be tagged), i want to do a little pap! this will be black white and purple themed for them too (their pfp colours)

i know both of them are going through cycles of repeating their actions over and over, and it is hard for them. i know it’s frustrating — hell i hate repetition. but you find peace in it.

this pick-a-pile is just advice for your manifesting and/or shifting journey. there is no real theme, but i asked spirit to bring up something you need to repeat for each pile.

this pap is intuition and shufflemancy-based. i am not using tarot nor cards at all for this. this is also for entertainment purposes. take my words with a grain of salt AND please do not use this as legal or life advice.

now, inhale and exhale. believe in your intuition, and pick a picture.

[1 ; 2

3 ; 4]

pile 1 the spiral.

hi pile 1! here’s confirmation for your pile : cycles, crying, cynical, the letter c (in your name of in the name of your significant other. casey and clark stand out.), puns, clairaudience, crown, clowns, (a lot of words w the letter c jesus christ..), underwater, drowning, sinking, the sea, oceans, water (s), fix your face, black, sexism, activist, reality shifter, cyclones, spirals, “i feel like im not seeing any signs/progress”

well pile one, you could feel like you are stuck in a cycle. just a torpedo and you’re getting hit with the same things over and over. you’re wondering why things aren’t changing, why this won’t end, but it’s because YOU won’t change. this is the harshest i think i have ever been in a pick a card, but you really need to get over yourself. realize you aren’t the person you should be, throw that person away and reinvent yourself. you want a lot in life, and you aren’t going to get it if you don’t decide to change yourself. the universe chose you for a reason, but if you keep having your own pity party, you aren’t gonna get anywhere. stop getting mad when you’re being told the truth. it isn’t there to hurt you. it’s there to help you. the truth is a tool. and as long as you keep ignoring it, you keep hiding from the monster inside your closet, it’s never gonna leave. it’s gonna haunt you. it’s like a negative spirit. lure it out and keep it coming. it is gonna hurt, but it’s worth it.

your required repetition is “continue to listen and change yourself. transformation.”

the waiting season is one where you need to work, don’t keep sulking.

now to interpreting your song, her by poppy. you have been trying to be someone else that you are not, for someone else. the chorus

“I'm getting to know her And all of her anger You won't recognize her If you encountered I'm getting to know her And all of her anger Picked herself up Put her back together”

you need to change and you know it, and you don’t know how. start with your anger, your sadness, a strong emotion and unravel it. unwrap it like a gift. keep pulling to you get to the root of the cause — hold it.. nurture it… and get the mud off it.

see this as a new start, pile one. i love you. you need to know you’re strong, and you can do this. don’t get annoyed, because i know you’ve been told this before. fix your face.

pile 2 ghouls

hello pile 2! here’s confirmation this is your pile!!: fairies, love, purple, green, heart chakra and third eye chakra, shadows, “on a silver platter”, polite, scars, romance, sacred, girl blogger, skull and bones, doja cat, fear of success, screaming, pink, sexuality, white, sensuality, fire and ice, opposites, blood, self sabotage, royalty, alternative, goth, knight, disability, multilingual, this specific dynamic, vampire

simplicity. simplify everything. that’s all spirit is saying. don’t over complicate things. that’s like all spirit is saying u guys 😭😭

they r literally saying clear your mind, just be the person you are meant to be. listen to your intuition, be creative, have love in your heart, even when times are hard, and let emotions flow.

spirit told me your manifestations are actively coming in 😭😭 idek why you’re reading this pac! like there are no notes, nothing else you need to do. just listen to your intuition and be in tune with yourself. god i love this pile bc yall r js so sweet and light hearted — like there’s so much hidden positivity here that’s waiting to come out.

good job on how far you’ve come, and hav fun where you’re going! love you pile 2!

pile 3 — unclear memory

hi pile 3! here’s your confirmation: “even a worm will turn”, disappointment, ditsy, protector, big eyes, proposal, hobbit core, hermitcraft, minecraft, silence, under another’s control, blush, light colours (pastels), resting, new opportunities, distractions, distant, chapell roan, wlw.

you’re over possessive but you cut out your heart. or someone else cut it out. you need to get your priorities straight. there’s so much going on in your brain. they all lead to the same thing, don’t they? like how a spider web meets in the middle.

you’re sad, i can tell, but you won’t let anyone know. you think you’ve done enough, or even too much, but in reality you’ve been distracted. you’re trying to hide your main in overworking. doing too much.

your repeating advice is “get back on track and focus on your morals”.

but dont become some else. become yourself. stop holding grudges. get yourself back.

pile 4 — kisses

hi pile 4! here’s confirmation this is your pile: shadow work, brooklyn nine-nine, wolf pack, furry, july, suicidal but continuing, height difference, jumbled thoughts, flowers, blue and pink, wash off the makeup, ombré, counting crows poem.

this is my dogs favorite song 😭😭

pile four, you have been looking for outer validation when you don’t need it. you’re searching for signs, for love, for confirmation you’re on the right path when you really jay need yourself. you’re putting yourself down and other people/the universe on a pedestal. YOU ARE THE UNIVERSE!! REALIZE THAT!

what you say goes. what you want will happen. and that’s that.

your advice is as follows ; “you need to just rest.”

and i think that’s great advice. sit down and relax. listen to music, meditate, be at peace. work on yourself. try journaling too!! it will help.

thank yall for reading!! <3 i hope this helps someone. finishing this at 5:55 pm btw!!

[maplecaster]

Deciphering Jerma's Water Tier List

on stream, jerma was talking about how he and his girlfriend holly made a water tier list by doing a blind taste test of a few brands. then he put on the screen this abomination:

chat was very confused, and unfortunately jerma was too, this honestly looks like some kind of strange ancient indecipherable code. however i was able to figure it out so i want to share what it means.

let's take a look at the right side for now because it's simpler

we see three columns- one unlabled, one labeled "grade" and one labeled "which?". jerma told us what some of the letters on the left stand for, so it's safe to assume this is just a list of water brands. he never said what E stands for so i had to guess. Reverse Osmosis is his water filter, but i'll be calling it a brand for simplicity.

knowing this, it's clear the "grade" column is what this person thought of each brand. we can also see that the same letters reappear in the "which?" column:

this means they weren't only making a tier list, but also a little guessing game for which brand they thought it was. (this person got 4/6 correct!)

now that we know this, let's look at the left side again:

Ah. Mhm. Well, if you look at it, it's not really that complicated. it's formatted the same way as the last one:

...almost. firstly, the very left side just has numbers, 2 3 5 1 6 4, this was the order the waters were tested in. presumably, these numbers are also the order in which the other side of the board was graded. the last brand, RO, doesn't have a guess, probably because the person just knew, either from taste or from process of elimination.

jerma seemed to really identify with this side, which would mean holly is the one who wrote it (you can't have the tester write their own results.) i was skeptical of this. there's no way holly would make something this unorganized and messy, and i can't see jerma labeling those columns on the right. that's when i noticed this detail that i've been skipping over..

these cut off letters at the top. i'm fairly certain that's an H on the left and a J on the right, which means jerma is the one who wrote holly's results messily and holly is the one who made the labeled columns. (i also think jerma's results were written first, despite them being on the right)

with all this information, i wanted to recreate the table. So i did

Hope everyone enjoyed it

[noneorother]

The art director & the Good Omens book cover tier list of doom, part 1

part 1 l part 2

This is going to have to be a multi-part series because there are *checks notes* 64 different covers that I've found so far.

I am your resident Art Director/Good Omens enthusiast, and welcome to my completely meta-free book cover tier list. Listen, making a book cover is HARD. I should know. But while we salute these artists for their hard work and time, I think we can all admit that once in a while, the vision is just not on. And on very rare occasions, publishers seemed to have managed to commission the cover art directly from hell... 1. The original UK cover

Ahh, the standard by which all shall be judged. We're starting off with a nice & easy cover, with adorable woodcuts of Aziraphale and Crowley flanking a custom Good Omens font! While I have to take a few points off for the terrible kerning of the word "GoOD", the blockprint vibes and general bitchiness of Aziraphale's teeny weeny wittle face, along with the sick colour palette puts the orignial in my good graces. Tier: Great

2. The duelling US covers

Progress! Hail to the designer who figured out trying to make "GoOD" and "OMeNs" fit the same width was a fool's errand, and even managed to IMPROVE on the original handmade title by adding a little halo and devil's tale to the design. Aziraphale and Crowley are facing each other, while also managing to serve absolute cunt. Aziraphale is wearing EIGHTIES SNEAKERS. Crowley's little snake boots have HEELS. They've managed to keep the woodcut vibes and colour simplicity, while balancing out the full title of the book. Both authors get to trade off on who's name comes first! Dare I say, this is a work of genius. I could dock some points for Crowley's sad bat wings growing out of his right clavicle, but who am I to question greatness.

Tier: Blessed by God Herself

3. The Halo Master Chief(?) cover

How the mighty have fallen... As a Canadian child, I was subjected to maybe the most horrifying ad in existence by the War Amps warning children about machine safety. This cover is the paper embodiment of that ad. I am confused by the purple haze. I am frightened by the seeming ethereal flatness of Adam and Dog. I am strangely aroused by Aziraphale's eyebrows, and intensely saddened by the terrible outline/drop shadow they had to inflict on the type to fit "Pratchett" in that god awful space. Tier: WTF

4. Germany, Ein Gutes Omen covers

This cover inexplicably exists in two colour ways: red and teal. I put the audiobook cover here so you could experience the full illustration, and also how fucked up it is that they cropped the book version to include three horse-people of the apocalypse, but cut off DEATH on the regular cover. Points must be given for drawing a pretty slick Bentley, but I think we have to take even more points away for turning Crowley into a Ray Charles/Mike Wazowski hybrid. The ducks are nice. Tier: Not so Good (Omens)

5. Germany, Ein Gutes Omen covers continued

I don't know if the German designer of this cover *knew* that they were using western yeehaw cowboy woodblock letters when they made this cover, but judging by how they spaced the rest of the text at the bottom, THEY DID NOT CARE. And that seems to be a running theme for this one. We get kind of a duality thing going on with the black and pink background, but it just seems like somebody whispered the general themes of Good Omens into a jar, and threw it down a well, and this poor chap came along and picked it up. The baffling choice to align every piece of text on the cover *except* Neil Gaiman's name which is right aligned and rotated 90 degrees (not even real vertical type) will haunt my dreams, I think.

Tier: Bad

6. US, UK The Traffic Jam cover

For the love of Good Omens, WHY. I can think of so many more interesting symbols to put on the cover of this book than the ODEGRA SIGIL TRAFFIC JAM. Props for keeping the good colours and type, but like, I think this cover was secretly designed by @amtrak-official, or someone who just really, really likes public works. Tier: Does the Job

7. France, De bons présages cover

Leave it to France to make sure people know that Aziraphale and Crowley fuck severely. While I can't condone leaving out half the title of the book (and thinking a red carpenter's square counts as decoration), I can begrudgingly acknowledge that Ron Pearlman and Benedict Cumberbatch's love child is excellent Crowley casting. I think I give this a solid dark academia/10. Tier: Good (Omens)

8. France, De bons présages covers continued

Just imagine with me, if you will, the absolutely hilarious reality that this cover posits: Good Omens is exactly the same in every respect, but Crowley drives a pink 1950s convertible. Why do all of the colours on this cover look like they've been pre-digested? Why are the font choices and placement so bafflingly bad. My face is the demon's face holding that car. I feel his pain.

Tier: WTF

9. France, De bons présages covers continued

Minus points for not managing to write the full title of the book once again. I don't know what it is with the French. They seem pretty set on Good Omens being demonic. While I do appreciate a good Bosch-style demon party, the dude in the middle confounds me. All-caps Museo Sans that isn't even *centred* in the frame is just so lazy. I am le tired. Tier: Bad

10. France, De bons présages covers continued

Uhh. The font. The font is okay.... I think? Yeah. The font and kerning are. Okay. OHHH GOD I LOOKED DOWN BELOW THE TEXT WHYYYY. Tier: WTF

END of round one. I need a nap.

[daistea]

If you ever have the time, would you ever feel like taking a request with mithrun x an elf reader who's been taking care of him for a while? I've been thinking that they'd know of each other pre-demon, but weren't well acquainted (different circles, and reader is more introverted (like misril)) at the time until post-demon where they help nurse him to health and mayhaps join the canaries as a healer/support for the group.

If that's too specific, that's fine! You can take liberties.

If youre like "yeah that plain just won't happen with mithrun/hes not like that", that's fine! You don't need to write it if you don't want to

I don't want to force you or anything; it's just something that's been floating in my mind, recently!

Of course my friend! You asked so nicely <3

I think I’ll use she/her pronouns for the reader with this one if that’s cool! 

Sooooo I’m assuming Mithrun was one of the Wardens in his squad. I don’t recall if it ever mentioned if he was in the first squad or the second. If it’s the second, then Milsiril might’ve been the Vice-Captain of his specific squad at the time, and Mithrun was her second in command like Pattadol is to him now. Cus u know Pattadol is second in command because she’s nobility, and Mithrun is nobility.. Yadda yadda. Let’s just go with that for simplicity’s sake. And since there’s only two Wardens to a squad, I’ve taken the liberty of making the reader a criminal, but it’s for something stupid like… jaywalking lol. Jaywalking using black magic. Or uh maybe using black magic to heal. Both? Two criminal charges, you rebel you

anywho..

tw suicide, mental illness, self harm, blood

Dungeon Meshi Spoilers ahead! 

4500ish words

"Vignettes of a 40 Year Old Desire" - Mithrun x elf/healer female reader

●・○・●・○・●

Getting started was the hardest part.

You took a deep breath, your hands hovering over the wound. The slice in Mithrun’s arm was clean, with no brutal ridges. It would scar, but it would be a straight, neat white line on his skin when it was over. Even Mithrun’s wounds were perfect. 

“Are you okay?” He asked. His voice was soft, and it reminded you of warm blankets on winter days. Your eyes flickered up to meet his and he offered a smile. 

“Yeah,” you said. You sat beside him with your legs curled up beneath you. He sat with his legs criss-crossed, casual as if his bicep hadn’t just been nearly sliced open by the sword of a living armor. He had to be in pain, it was a deep wound. You’d managed to stop the excessive bleeding, but the paleness of his cheeks betrayed that he was feeling weak. 

Still, starting was the hardest part. 

You summoned your stores of mana, connecting to the spirits that made up the world. They were all around you, willing to obey, willing to lay upon Mithrun’s wound and graft his skin back together. A soft light glowed from beneath your palm as you ran your fingers around the edges of the wound. You weren’t sure why getting started was difficult for you, perhaps it was the feeling of magic pulsing through your veins that startled you, or the very fact that you had the ability to defy nature in this way. And there was that little bell that rang in the back of your mind, that urge to go further, deeper, darker. 

That damn bell and its ringing had gotten your ears clipped. 

You pulled back from Mithrun, letting your hands drop into your lap. “Done,” was all you said.

He blinked in surprise, then lifted his arm to inspect the spot where he’d been sliced. There was a faint scar, but it would probably fade if he got some sun. His lips twitched into a frown at the sight, but that expression immediately died, pushed aside and replaced with a smile. Mithrun didn’t need the sun, actually, he carried enough shine in his smiles…. Is what someone stupid would say. 

“Thank you,” his voice was soft, polite. He pushed down the sleeve of his canary uniform and rolled his shoulders. Nearby, the rest of the team was setting up camp for the night. They laughed and passed around a wineskin. There was a spot on the ground between two of your peers, saved for Mithrun. Milsiril was a distance away with her back pressed against the wall and her knees pulled up to her chest. She had a sewing needle that she meticulously threaded through the body of a ragdoll. 

You expected Mithrun to stand up and cross the room to join the others. Yet, he didn’t. He stared at you, two silver eyes filled with curiosity. You returned the look and raised a brow as if to silently ask what he needed. 

Finally, Mithrun offered a slightly bashful smile, “You don’t really socialize much, do you? Oh,” he perked up, eyes widening, “I don’t mean that in a bad way, of course. I mean, you’re shy, right? I just don’t know that much about you.”

And that drove him mad. 

You were entirely too aware of Mithrun’s true nature. The others were too busy basking in his light, caught up in his orbit, trapped in his web. Even Milsiril deigned to notice. She could’ve if she wanted, she simply didn’t want to— it would be like looking in the sun, and once you got past the blinding light and actually looked, you would already be burnt. 

You saw the looks on his face when nobody was looking. You didn’t mean to see them, you didn’t mean to stare, but it had become a habit to watch his reactions. There was a flicker of irritation in his eyes sometimes, the hint of a frown when someone didn’t play his game exactly how he planned. There were moments when his shoulders would tense and his smile would turn tight. There were moments he’d avoid answering questions about himself and turn the subject around on the inquirer to keep his history and feelings and thoughts hidden behind a very sturdy, well-guarded wall. 

You were more interested in him than you’d like to admit. You’d drawn several conclusions: Mithrun genuinely enjoyed the company of others, but he couldn’t help himself, he couldn’t help but scowl when they weren’t looking and judge their decisions and look down on everything they said and did. He even did it to you.

Which was precisely why you avoided him for the most part. You didn’t want him to know more about you, to provide more ammunition so he could reload his weapon and fire it straight into your back. 

So, all you had to say was, “Yeah, we don’t really talk much.” And you smiled as innocently as you could before standing up and wandering to a corner near Milsiril. 

Mithrun’s eyes lingered on your back. He was probably making that face he made when displeased that his charm didn’t work; analytical, a hint of darkness, one could practically see the red-inked assumptions scribbling onto parchment in his head, destined to be filed under a wildly critical and exaggerated category and kept there until the end of time. 

You only wished you understood why he was like that. 

Mithrun disappeared without warning. The squad had been dispatched to the Central Observation Tower because yet another person had disappeared in the area. Mithrun offered to take his friend’s scouting duty into a dark tunnel because she was afraid of spiders and was convinced that there were millions of them in that specific dark tunnel. Milsiril offered to send you along with him, but at that time you were trying to heal a sprained ankle of another squad member. Mithrun waved a dismissive hand and smiled, “It’s no problem. I’ll be fine on my own, but thanks!”

That was the last you saw of him. 

Milsiril had someone slumped on her arm. She held them up, breathing heavily and covered in dirt and blood and dirty blood. You rushed toward the scene. The person had silver hair caked with quickly drying streaks of red. His head lolled. But he was breathing. Thank goodness, he was breathing. 

Milsiril gently laid Mithrun on the ground. Immediately, you sat beside him, your hands on his cheeks and forcing open his eyes— eye. Singular. The right one was a mess. There was no time to question that, though. You summoned a light spell and opened his eyelid and black irises greeted you. Weren’t his eyes silver before? It was dim, too. Yet, his chest moved up and down and his heart was still beating. You let go of his face and he closed his eyes again, head lolling to the side as he let out a soft exhale. 

“So, this is where he’s been?” You asked Milsiril.

She nodded, “He became the dungeon lord. This place…” she glanced up at the twisted walls and long corridors that led to nowhere. There were monster corpses nearby. So many monsters, strong ones, weird ones with horrific teeth and eyes. “It’s a representation of him. I never knew…”

You knew, sort of. You just didn’t think it would get to this level. You didn’t think he’d fall to the demon. You didn’t think—

There was no time for thinking. You had to get started on healing him. For once, getting started wasn’t so hard, not when your heart raced, not when you were desperate for someone to live.

When Mithrun was conscious again, you offered your hand to help him stand. 

He didn’t take it. 

Of one thing you were certain: Mithrun of the house of Kerensil had no desire to live.

“You should’ve let me die.”

You perked up at the sound of his voice. It was the first time Mithrun had spoken in perhaps a month, and his vocal cords betrayed that fact. His voice was scratchy with disuse, and it was a struggle for him to speak. As you glanced over your shoulder to look at him, he didn’t bother meeting your eyes. His gaze was on the window near his bed, but he wasn’t looking at anything, not really.

“I should’ve let you die?” You echoed. You could hear the anger in your own voice. Mithrun didn’t care, you knew.

He simply nodded. A lock of silver fell over his bony shoulder. His collarbones were too pronounced. The sight made a fire start in your chest. 

“Mithrun?” You asked. 

He turned his head to look at you. One eye, as black as an endless pit, landed on your face. The other was covered by bandages. 

And he waited. He didn’t actually care about what you had to say, you knew. But you had to say it. 

“Don’t ever say those words to me again.”

Mithrun only stared, “Alright.”

Then he returned his attention to the window that he was not looking out of. 

You don’t know when or why you started to care so much. 

You’d always cared about people. You’d always wanted to help. But you didn’t even really like Mithrun before the dungeon incident. Now, his recovery was all you could focus on. And you were absolutely obsessed with the state of things. 

“I don’t know what to do,” his brother whispered, desperate, “I’ve hired so many caretakers but they just don’t do anything for him. I mean, they do things, but he’s not getting any better.”

Someone had to break the news to him. “I don’t think anything we do is going to make him any better.”

“I want him to be better,” his brother furrowed his brows and took a deep breath.

You wanted the same. But for now, all you could do was keep Mithrun alive. As long as he ate and slept and breathed, that was good enough for now. That was all he could manage. 

You visited the Kerensil family home more often these days. You weren’t sure why, but you cared. When he screamed at night and scratched himself to the point of bleeding, you healed him without a word. When he got ahold of a kitchen knife and put it to his throat, you wrestled it away from him, then helped his brother install locks on all the cabinets and drawers. When Mithrun snuck out at night to go slaughter every goat within a 50 mile radius, you cleaned the blood from his hair and hands. 

You’d basically moved in. The captain had given you permission to dedicate time to Mithrun’s healing, since they would’ve liked to have him join again once he was better. To the other Canaries, this was part of your sentence. To you, this was part of your purpose. 

You and Mithrun talked a lot. You talked the most. He stayed quiet, so you weren’t sure if you could consider it as actually holding a conversation. You weren’t sure if he was even listening. But once, when you were softly explaining the importance of getting rune shapes exactly right, you stopped and stared at your hands. You’d begun to enter dark territory, the study of black magic that had brought you to this place in life. 

The silence stretched on for a minute or two before Mithrun tilted his head. His hair was splayed out on his pillow and his good eye was open, blinking, slightly alert. 

“Continue,” he said. 

So you continued. And he stared at the ceiling. And you knew that he was listening. He didn’t care, of course, but he was listening. 

One night, Mithrun nearly hit a vital organ with a piece of glass from the bathroom mirror that he’d shattered. 

You healed it, the light from your hands growing brighter than usual. Your shoulders were tense and you couldn’t help but scowl and growl and mutter. 

Mithrun just looked at you, “You know this isn’t what I want.”

“I don’t care,” you answered immediately.

He grit his teeth, “I don’t want to live.”

“I want you to live!” You exploded. He flinched backward, but no emotion passed over his face. He simply stared. You gulped down your feelings and continued healing him. 

Maybe that was selfish of you. You didn’t care. 

Milsiril was a mother. Milsiril was a caretaker. Milsiril was a toymaker and she knew how to wind them up and set them on the path again. 

“I’m ready to go back into the dungeon,” Mithrun said. His voice was still scratchy, but he was sitting up on his bed for once. He’d gained a few pounds and his shoulders weren’t sharp as knives anymore.

Milsiril only shook her head, “Not yet, I’m sorry.”

Mithrun looked at you as if he expected you to ally with him. You knew him the best, you knew what he wanted in life. You even knew what his secret desire was, the one he couldn’t admit to himself. 

You shook your head as well, “You’re still underweight and you haven’t quite gotten the hang of taking care of yourself yet.”

Mithrun’s expression only darkened, “Then let’s keep practicing.”

Where Milsiril was more concerned with making Mithrun socially acceptable enough to rejoin society, you were much more concerned about his living conditions, health, and dignity. It was a relief that he’d stopped trying to pick the locks on the knife drawer. It was not a relief that Mithrun was planning for his inevitable death against the demon— not that he’d admit that. 

He wanted different things now. No longer was his goal to die from withering away, but rather to die at the hands of the god who once served him. Still, it involved him dying. There was this feeling you had inside, comparable to the feeling you had when you were first being hunted by the Canaries. You knew it was inevitable that they would find you and jail you or make you join them. Anticipation rose in your chest until it finally burst when they tied up your wrists and clipped your ears. 

Now, anticipation was rising again. It had been rising for the last twenty or so years that you’d spent at Mithrun’s side. You could only wonder when it would burst, and when you’d end up as scraps on the floor like the shreds of a popped balloon. You could only wonder. 

When Mithrun rejoined the Canaries, you went with him. He said nothing about that. You were the one who cut his hair shorter for functionality reasons. You were the one who delivered his new uniform and made sure it fit. You were the one who sat on his back as he did push ups for training— which was actually the most fun with him you’d had in the last twenty years. It was kind of silly, but it was good to see him willing to do things like exercise and challenge himself, even if his end goal was just to reach the demon. 

There was a lot of teasing involved when you two returned to the Canaries. 

“Are you in love with him or something?” Helki asked behind his hand. He cast a glance at Mithrun, who was sitting nearby and silently staring out the window. 

You made a face, “With Mithrun? No. I love him, but not like that.”

“Are you sure?” He snorted, “You’ve been like his little wife for the last few decades.”

“I don’t think I would consider all that as wife-like,” you retorted. 

“Why do you do it, then?”

Was it truly so impossible for someone to comprehend caring for another individual without expecting something in return? Or not having a motive? You supposed there was a motive, but it wasn’t romance. You just… cared. You wanted him to stay alive and get better. And he was relatively better, now. Relatively. 

You patted Helki’s shoulder, “Because he’s my friend. Nothing more.”

You didn’t notice, but Mithrun’s head tilted. He always listened to you, even when you didn’t think so.

“Can you help her?” Flamela jutted a thumb toward where you and Mithrun sat. Her voice, louder than everybody else’s in the Canary’s headquarters, caught your attention. Mithrun kept his arms crossed and his gaze on the recruits training outside.

Cithis blinked in surprise. Her eyes landed on you and you returned the look with a hesitant smile. 

“It’s a lot to explain,” Flamela continued, “but Captain Mithrun needs help and [name] needs a break.”

Your brows furrowed. You hadn’t expressed needing a break before. You were fine. You liked taking care of Mithrun. Yet before you could protest, Flamela was already walking away. And Cithis stood there with her hands folded and her eyes curious, analyzing. 

Dread settled into your chest.

“You’re not some helpless baby, Mithrun,” you didn’t mean to yell, nor pace, nor gesture so wildly with your hands, but you couldn’t help it. “You’re not a dog, not a slave, not someone who can be exploited for entertainment! You’re a person and you deserve respect!”

Mithrun only raised a brow, “So, you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you,” you snapped, sounding quite mad at him. Yet you pulled yourself together and took a deep breath, “No, Mithrun, I’m not mad at you. It’s not your fault. I just wish people saw you as more than what you’re going through. You’re the damn Captain of the Canaries now, you’ve risen above some really tough shit and you’re capable and strong and—”

Lord. 

The realization hit you like a slap to the face. 

You froze, mouth hanging open, eyes on Mithrun. He only stared, as he tended to do, waiting for you to say something. But you couldn’t. You’d been slapped in the face by reality and now everything ached. 

“I’ve got to go,” you managed to squeak out before running toward the door. You left his bedroom behind and darted down the hallway of the Canaries Headquarters. You shared a room with a few other criminals, but they weren’t there when you burst inside and collapsed onto your bed. You were in your late 100’s yet there you were, screaming into your pillow like a 60 year old. 

You’re in love.

“I’m in love,” you said out loud, which you immediately regretted because that made things real. 

You’re in love. You’re in love. You’re in love and it hurts so much because Mithrun could never love you back. Were you a masochist? Probably. Your heart hurt. You suddenly understood the concept of heartbreak, it felt as if your heart was about to physically fall apart. Realizing that you’re in love should be a happy moment. It shouldn’t hurt so much. 

Alright, you decided. You’re going to ignore it like an adult. You’re going to take this secret to the grave. 

Captain Mithrun’s team was a mess. 

But they were fun. 

“Hey,” Lycion elbowed you one night at the dinner table. He leaned down to whisper while you were mid-bite of a piece of chicken. “Do you think the Captain would let me check out the fighting scene on that island? Like, we could put off the whole negotiations thing for a day so I can go see it?”

Mithrun personally wouldn’t care, you knew, but he would refuse Lycion’s request for the sake of getting into the dungeon faster. You swallowed your food and sent him a glance, “Why’re you asking me? Pattadol’s the one that does all the decision stuff with Mithru— the Captain.”

“But you know him best.”

True enough. Still, you were just the healer, still a criminal sentenced to another 40 or so years of Canary service. You sent Lycion an apologetic smile, “Sorry. I don’t think he would.”

“Can you ask him?” Lycion used that purring voice he always utilized on certain targets unwilling to obey. 

You remained unaffected, “I don’t see why you think me asking him would make a difference.”

“The Captain would do anything you asked!” He explained, “Within reason, of course. You’re his girl.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you forced the satisfaction down. “I’m not his girl. And he pretty much does whatever anyone tells him to do as long as it doesn’t interfere with his goals, so I’m not any different.”

“You’re blind,” Lycion muttered, “so blind.”

Mithrun had been pulled into the stupid pit thing or whatever with that stupid Kabru guy. You were going to pull your hair out. 

When he reunited with the Canaries, he actually looked rather well-taken care of. You begrudgingly admitted that Kabru may not be as stupid as you thought, but you couldn’t let go of your anger at the entire situation. You still wanted to pull your hair out, mostly because you were resisting the urge to wrap your arms around the Captain and squeeze until your bodies melted together. 

Mithrun noticed your stress and slowly approached you. He patted your head, “I’m fine,” he said. 

He could be shot in the chest and he’d still claim to be fine. 

“When this is all over,” you managed to say through the fog of anger and worry and adoration and fury, “we’re taking a holiday. We’ll go to the Eastern Archipelago and we’re sitting on the beach and we’re going to do very safe things like build sandcastles or take naps.”

Mithrun looked down at you. He stared, as was his tendency. Then he raised both brows and you thought that just for a second, there was a hint of a smile on his lips. An affectionate smile. Perhaps it was hopeful thinking, an illusion brought forth by stress. You weren’t sure. 

His hand that was on your head slowly ran down the side of your cheek and to your chin, lifting your face so you’d look at him. He didn’t hold you for long, though, letting his arm drop to his side when he had your attention. “When we have time, I will go where you go,” he said. 

You wanted to smack him in his stupid beautiful face for being so sweet. What was wrong with him? Was he in a good mood? You could only narrow your eyes in suspicion. 

Of course, Mithrun walked away after that, back to the mission at hand. Yet his words echoed. I will go where you go. 

That was more like something you would say to him. You’ve made the decision to be at his side for the last 40 years. You would follow him to the ends of the earth. 

Surely, he didn’t mean it. 

But then again, Mithrun wasn’t in the habit of lying unless it served his purpose. And he wouldn’t lie to you, of all people. Surely not. 

The demon was gone and Mithrun had lost his purpose in life. 

How scary, you thought. How terrifying to lose your one reason for living. You’d most likely be on the ground, slumped up against a tree and expecting to wither away just like him. But unlike you, Mithrun had people who cared for him, who wouldn’t accept that fate for him, who loved him. 

Senshi and Kabru said their pieces. The Canaries all agreed with a chorus of encouragement and opinions and friendship. 

You offered your hand, like you always did, like you’d been doing for the last four decades. 

He took it. 

Mithrun placed his hand in yours. And the anticipation bubble that had been building in your chest for so long finally popped. But you were okay. It was okay. He was okay. 

Mithrun pardoned you, surprisingly. You told him that wasn’t necessary and that he should use his pardon on someone else who had a longer sentence. There were only 40 years left for you. Surely they wouldn’t be as long as the last 40 years had been. 

“No, it's you I want,” Mithrun said rather casually, “you’re staying with me in Melini.”

He wanted something. He wanted you. 

You forced yourself to stay upright, “Alright. If you insist.”

Living with Mithrun in this state was very different. It was fun, heartbreaking, difficult, easy, calm, chaotic. Some days, he laid in bed and stared at the wall. Other days, he made noodles and walked through the forest and sat on the beach with you, doing very safe things like building sandcastles and taking naps. Many people in town assumed you two were married. You always corrected them, Mithrun never did. 

He observed monsters and would need healing sometimes. You would push up the sleeve of his tunic and trace your fingers along old scars, none of them perfect. Then, heal him, as you tend to do. 

“Are you sure you want this?” Mithrun asked one day. 

You looked up to meet his eyes. Ink black, your favorite color. “What?”

“You can spend your life any way you want now,” he explained, his voice flat, “you’re free. I’m not your burden anymore.”

Your heart clenched in your chest. “You have never been a burden to me.”

“I used to hate you for keeping me alive.”

“I know.”

“And you never hated me?”

“I sometimes did,” you admitted softly, fingers tracing over his skin. You recalled this certain scar, from a pair of scissors you wrestled out of his hands at two in the morning years ago. “But it was the kind of hate that only stems from love.”

“You have always treated me like a human,” Mithrun murmured. His free hand went to your chin and lifted your face, “Like someone that deserves to live. You loved me despite my inability to give you anything in return. But I’m able now,” he leaned closer, “so allow me this.”

Damn. That had to be the first time you’d ever heard Mithrun say anything like tha—

He was kissing you.

It took you a moment to realize what was happening. His lips were on yours and your heart felt as if it might explode. Your hands shook as you raised them, eventually finding their way to his hair. That felt right. This was right. He deepened the kiss, slowly pushing forward. It was slow and careful and calm. It held so many words that neither of you were able to say. As he gently ran his hand up your thigh and to your hips, you couldn’t help but shiver. 

40 years of longing accumulated into this moment. In a dark house in a new kingdom in a demon-free world, you started something new, and for once it wasn’t difficult at all. 

[dead-boys-club]

†  normal : hawks.

❥ scenario: this is a cluster fuck of different writing based on concerns and desires of keigo with his civilian lover. * it's written like this because the request wasn't really specified, so you get the answer in multiple different way. ❥ no triggers; not rated. however, this does have spoilers - i think?? ❥ i don't have any beta readers - you get what you get. ❥ this was a request <3

I apologize - this ended up so much longer than i originally anticipated.

let me start off first with a few little hcs that come to mind.

One: when it comes to the idea of having a normal life and what to do about it, keigo is going to keep it to himself until he can't anymore. he already assumes it's a doomed thought - he's government/commission property, right? he's not allowed to have a normal life and he's well aware of the fact that as long as he's useful, he doesn't have much of a say. He would keep an eye on you, watching you go about your daily routines with a consent nagging voice in the back of his thoughts; constant longing, wariness - it's almost as if it's splitting him apart to have all of these thoughts. thoughts that he continues to tell himself he's not allowed to have. even when he's mid mission, he still has the idea of your future in the back of his mind. he's very much going to suffer in silence over it.

Two: his idea of normalcy, to him, is quite boring but that's the point. he often lays awake at night, imagining what it would be like to have a small house, somewhere no one can find, maybe with a garden and a pet - something so domestic with you causes his bones to ache and makes him restless. those imagines, so whimsical and pretty, always turn to nightmares the moment his eyes close because.. what if something happens to you? he would find himself teetering on the edge of his own ability to keep sane trying to have his own life. all he wants is simplicity; routines.. a home with love, laughter - no broken promises, bloodshed or the idea of one of you not making it home.

Three: he does have one idea. one idea that's so.. awful and pathetic that he wonders if he'll sound crazy even bringing it up to you. running away with you. it would be possible, right? he could find a way. your optimism would make up for the uncharacteristic lack of his own in that moment when he finally lets the idea slip. he wants a life where he can just be present with you and maybe that's what needs to be done. [ SPOILER? ] when keigo loses his quirk, despite his fears of not being able to protect you.. he really starts holding onto the dream of being with you, normal, enjoying life. after all - how can you be a hero without a quirk?

Four: even if he brought it up to you before, he would still battle it before finally coming to the decision to do something. he would sit with you, probably very uncertain and unsure, even though you'd already seemed enthusiastic about it. he would explain his thoughts, his nightmares, his fears.. his desire to keep you safe and keep you happy, away from the life he'd grown tired of. he loved saving people but he just wanted something he never had the chance to have before. he would offer you the chance of a fresh start, just the two of you, repeating to you, your comment that everyone can be free of the shadows of their past if they take the right steps.

with your support and thrilled agreement to follow him, because honestly, you'd follow him anywhere. he would find himself grasping at hope as you spent time planning, chatting about the future you both wanted. it would be frustrating. yes, it was decided but he would have his moments of feeling like he was stopping your life as well but he would be so conflicted, he couldn't find a balance between the pros and cons that didn't make him feel selfish.

✧*̥˚ first tiny drabble *̥˚✧

keigo had spent years pining over the idea of normalcy - a home, a loving family and the pleasure of living an every day life; an idea he'd abandoned countless times due to being a hero. the ache in his chest grew worse when he'd met you, a civilian who had chuckled off his hero persona and saw straight threw it, smiling and brushing it off; you saw him as just another person and that moment, he began to dream that maybe he could be just that.

your ability to stand by and cheer him on through everything furthered the chaos on his mind, something he kept from you the best he could. you supported him through the challengers and dangers that came with being a hero and at the end of the day, you greeted him the same way and welcomed him home, letting him shed the skin of 'hawks' and live just a few hours as himself. you brought him solace, anchoring him to reality as he battled having a double life. time passed, though, and he could only handle it alone for so long before realizing he couldn't just ignore the growing desire to have a normal life.. he just knew he had responsibilities that he couldn't simply walk away from. they wouldn't let him.

he battled with the secrets, the lies, his past, your safety.. all of it was becoming too much.

after one rather harsh mission that left you both a little shaky, keigo found himself staring out the window, the evening sky bleeding into night and his bones aching beneath skin and muscle. that didn't matter though. you sat beside him, quiet, and giving him the space to relax, just content to have him home.

'this.. i love this,' he finally spoke, voice holding the softest tinge of regret, and followed by a sigh. 'being here with you, so close, it's everything i've ever wanted.' he couldn't deny his enjoyment of his career but truly, nothing beat getting to sink next to you and not think anymore.

you squeezed his hand, silent encouragement for him to continue, curious where his thoughts had fallen.

'but..' keigo shifted, words having heavy in the air as a frown ghosted over his features. 'they don't like it.. this isn't the life i'm supposed to be living. they're call it a liability and.. well, that puts you in danger.'

understanding the concern, you were growing afraid of where the conversation was headed. 'it's not like i didn't know the risks when i agreed to be with you.. i love you, regardless of the danger, you know that.' that felt to easy to you, tightening your hold on his hand.

the blond tipped his head to look at you, tired and a little overwhelmed, 'and i love you, too, more than anything.'

you frowned. 'but..'

his shoulders slumped and he squeezed your hand. 'but,' he repeated, 'am i being selfish? risking your safety just for a few hours of being normal, it's not fair to you.'

immediately, you began shaking your head, firm with how you chose to respond. 'Keigo, you listen to me. this isn't just about you or what you want - it's about us, isn't it? i chose to be with you because i love you and i trust you; because i fully believe in you. so what, with you or not.. i'd be facing risks every day with the world we live in. i'd rather face those risks with you.'

he swallowed hard, eyebrows briefly pulling together. 'that's what scares me. you're willingness to put yourself in this position.' he didn't like admitting it but he had no choice, feeling backed into a corner with the world around him, making his choices for him. 'it's something so.. real.'

it took a moment for you not to chuckle, knowing it would earn you a look you didn't need, and reached to cup his face, thumbs brushing gingerly at his features. 'we will face whatever comes out way together. i'm not going anywhere.'

his eyes slipped shut, leaning towards the warmth of your touch. 'i know,' he mumbled, tone making it obvious just how low he felt. 'just.. i need to figure it out, how to keep you safe.. how to make all of this work.'

'and we will.' you smiled, leaning up to press a lingering kiss to his forehead, 'if we aren't facing them together.. well, that's not real love.'

he didn't respond, just pulled you closer, finding solace in your words and presence. keigo knew that with you, he'd already found a home, nothing else mattered - he just needed to keep that safe.

✧*̥˚ another small drabble but with spice *̥˚✧

tension was an awful thing and it hung thick in the apartment as you and keigo as he paced, his demeanor fractured in frustration and agitation. you sat, silent, watching him with concern, knowing full well that his outburst didn't come from something so surface level. his deep-rooted fear of losing you, your safety, it was getting to him.

'kei..' you pleaded barely above a whisper, breaking the silence. 'i get that you're concerned, and i unde--'

keigo turned on his heel to face you, the expression he held so intense that you were a little surprised. 'but nothing!' he hadn't even realized he raised his voice. 'do you understand what could happen..? what could happen to you just because you're with me? what they could do to you?'

you were honestly a little confused; you weren't sure if he was speaking on the topic of the commission or villains anymore but you brushed that aside. his words cut deep, the fear and desperation as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. it made your heart weep to see him in such a pent up state and as you stood, you thought carefully over what you were going to say.

'i know it's dangerous. i know.. we have things coming at us from more than one side,' you began, keeping your voice as steady as you could manage, trying not to let your own whirlwind of emotions make things worse. 'but, i can't just walk away.'

he shook his head, jaw clenching for a second. 'i'm not asking you to walk away, i'd rather be on my knees begging you not to,' he said, his voice becoming softer. 'what you don't understand is .. is i don't know what i would do if something happened to you. i need you to be careful. i need you to stay safe.'

'i am careful. i'm always careful,' you frowned, 'i know how to take care of myself. did you forget that? i made it how long before i met you?'

closing his eyes, he shifted his weight and took a moment to collect himself, struggling to rein in emotions that felt like he no longer had control over. when he finally spoke, you could hear the regret laced within the words. 'i know you do. it just scares me to think i could lose you.. because of me.'

you hated the way tears welled up, the weight of his words settling heavy on your shoulders and you weren't sure what to say. reaching out for his hand, you held onto it tightly.

'i love you.' your voice trembled and you took in a soft breath. 'i'm not going anywhere.. and i'll fight tooth and nail if something ever happens. but, i need you to trust me as much as i trust you.'

looking down at your hands, then up to you, keigo's gaze softened. 'i do trust you. it's hard.'

'i know.' carefully pulling him into a tight, comforting embrace, you took in a deep breath to keep from falling apart. 'we'll figure it out. we always do.'

✧*̥˚ thoughts *̥˚✧

as impossible as hawks would think it was.. i don't think he'd ever be with someone who agreed with him - because he needs someone by his side that is willing to fight for him and face the world with him. maybe a completely normal life wouldn't be something he could have, not with his quirk, but his s/o would do everything in their abilities to give him as many normal moments of they could.

hawks would grasp on to every single moment he could - despite the worries and concerns. however, if she were in danger.. i think he would probably shut down. he's very rational, very logical - he knows it's possible but if it actually happened? i don't think he would be able to handle the way he felt.

so, let's go into some hcs about her getting hurt - and i'm breaking this down, outside of a scenario, for the simple fact i don't have a scene base.

✧*̥˚ if his s/o actually got hurt *̥˚✧

let's start off with his initial reaction because not a single person could look at me and say he wouldn't feel guilty; he'd feel like his entire world just shattered to pieces. everything they'd talked about, fought about - it had become reality. he would be overwhelmed and probably angry with himself about not being able to protect her, thinking over and questioning every single little choice he'd made that lead to not being there for her. he would blame himself. if this happened, say.. like during the mla arc and she was a casualty, i think he'd become very.. how to say, merciless with whoever he was against, because he'd be fueled by the racing thoughts of; is she alive? is she okay? does she hate me? i failed her.

not a single thing would matter to him until he got to see her and the moment he learned where she was, he was off - almost begrudgingly finishing what he needed to, first. he's probably not in the best shape and he doesn't give a single shit about anyone around him - he just needs to get to her. he would be so desperate to find her, words almost not coherent as he asked around the staff.

it would take everything in him not to be on his knees the moment he saw her in a hospital bed, feeling like he didn't even deserve to be called a hero when he couldn't save the one person he truly loved. however, i will say, he's not going anywhere. he would be by her side, barely sleeping or eating, ignoring others, refusing to leave until she was leaving with him - he would be reluctant to have his own injuries looked at because they didn't matter. those around him, they wouldn't recognize him - the hawks sitting beside her bedside was someone that no one else knew. the tears, the cursing; he was in pain and struggling with heart ache just being there.

as he sat there, holding her hand, he'd be left with his thoughts and let's be honest.. hawks is not a character that should be left with endless time alone with his thoughts. doesn't matter the topic. his confidence would be broken. his own self worth would be trash. hawks already has moments of believing he isn't worth a grain of salt but he'd be so caved in that he would doubt his ability to be a hero, a partner, a human being. in his mind, even being a hero that's supposed to keep countless people safe, he would have failed his most important role.

as she began to recover, hawks would slowly sink into a world of contemplation on what to do when she was out. he'd have done something he thought was even shittier than letting her get injured - he would write out a break up note, because he didn't feel worthy of facing her. she would never see it, he couldn't do that but he debated on if no longer being connected to her would help; maybe it was the only way to keep her safe. he would tell her this and it would be a very heavy, very draining conversation and he would feel like absolute shit for putting her through something so emotionally and mentally exhausting after what she'd been through but.. he would be a little relieved when she lightly hit the back of his head and told him to stop thinking that way.

hawks would walk away from this with even more determination to be better; to be a better partner, hero, etc. he'd become even more vigilant and serious, needing to do what he could to make sure she never ended up hurt again. even though she reminded him that he couldn't always be there and things happened - he would still do his damndest.

even if his lover could bounce back and reassure him, i think a situation like this would honestly be pretty traumatic for him. he already struggles with guilt and regret and that would just deepen - it would be something he would bring up every blue moon, needing to vent and hide away with her for a day or two just to deal with the thoughts and feelings that came with them. because of her, ignoring the AFO quirk situation, he would accept that.. things couldn't be perfect, couldn't be as simple and normal as he wanted.. but he would just have to make due with what she made normal for him, and he'd be happy with that. he would still think about it.. dream of a home, peace.. and he would hold onto hope that one day he could have that but until that day, he would work with it and just be happy to have someone who cherished him so much.