#anyone who knew my old blog knows I posted about this before

[tlou-obsessed]

Siblings actually feeling like siblings is my absolute favourite thing in shows:

siblings sharing one braincell:

The same crooked smile:

And in the first 10 minutes or so you already know the dynamic between these two, Joel knows Tommy will tease him endlessly about the t-shirt being inside out, being an older sibling, when making a mistake I look at my younger siblings first because I just know they are gonna be insufferable about it. But Tommy respects the hell out of Joel, he immidiately puts out the cigarette when told so, this is responsible older brother Joel, who will bail him out of jail...

He's also the person he looks to, to make the decisions que 'What are we doin', Joel':

also the fact that they got two guys with patchy beards is dedication to me, they wanted these two to be genetically brothers:

These two walking in sync never fails to get me, they are walking the exact same way:

Also haven't seen each other in quite a while and doesn't miss the chance to tease little brother:

all I have to say is Gabriel and Pedro were dedicated to show us they were brothers and I love them for that.

[4unnyr0se]

❥ tsukishima plays the waiting game

warnings: fem! reader, pre and post timeskip! tsukishima, tsuki gets slapped, reader is a sweetie, yamaguchi and hinata mentioned, tbh its mostly fluff

MDNI | No 18+ content here, I just don't want minors interacting with my blog

word count -> 785

part two

Kei Tsukishima wasn’t the best at showing affection at all. He only liked and respected Yamaguchi, but apart from that, there wasn’t really anyone he thought merited his honest and most sincere loyalty and trust. Sure, he respected Daichi when he was still in high school, but Daichi was his captain. It was different.

Then, you moved to Miyagi and enrolled in Karasuno in mid-April. You were placed in the same class as Yamaguchi and Tsukishima. Apparently, you had scored in the top 1% in your old high school, much to Tsukishima’s chagrin. He assumed you would be just another one of those academic bitches (like himself) who only cared about what directly affected them. 

That was the first time Tsukishima was wrong. 

You were sickeningly sweet, so much so that many people thought it was just an act. Tsukishima first thought this, too, that a wolf was hiding under that fluffy sheep wool. But no, there wasn’t. You were genuinely nice without ulterior motives, always volunteering to tutor students after class. You even helped Yamaguchi with his English vocabulary and grammar. He didn’t even have to ask! That’s how sweet you were, and Tsukishima hated that. Well, only at first. 

He knew he liked you the second you snapped at him, calling him an asshole in front of the entire Karasuno team. He was practicing serves and missed completely, the volleyball slamming into your torso as you walked by the practice gym. Instead of apologizing, he blamed you for being in the way. 

Instead of you apologizing for having dared to be in the way of a rouge volleyball, he was met with a cold smack in the face. Vulgar words left your mouth, your face heating up in anger as you called him out for being a stuck-up prick who didn’t care about anyone but himself (and maybe Yamaguchi.) The Karasuno team stood in shock as you screamed at him, your usual friendly and kind demeanor long forgotten. Hinata thought that Tsukishima was absolutely going to murder you, but instead, the lanky blonde just stood there with the tiniest blush on his cheeks. You called him out; you slapped him. The sweetest girl in Karasuno slapped him and humbled him in front of his teammates. You weren’t just an innocent little lamb, you bit. And Tsukishima liked that. 

Tsukishima never acted on his urges in high school; he was too busy with class and volleyball and Hinata’s bullshit to worry about romantic relationships. But he caught himself sneaking glances at you throughout high school, no matter where he was. You two were always in the same class, weirdly enough. Graduation eventually came, and lo and behold, the two of you went to Sendai. He was on a semi-volleyball scholarship, and you had a full academic ride because you did. And to his horror, or perhaps delight, you both had the same entry-level statistics class.

He first noticed that you had a sense of personal style that he approved of. Tsukishima had only ever seen you in the Karasuno girl’s school uniform before, so it was a pleasant surprise to see you wearing a spaghetti strap tank top with a wool cardigan and loose jeans. It was…cute.

Tsukishima was taken aback when you walked up to him after class, bowing your head slightly to apologize for screaming at him when you were in high school. He smirked and accepted the apology, pushing your head down further. 

“You also slapped me and called me an asshole, remember?”

You became flustered and started apologizing even more, tilting your head with sparkling eyes.

“I know, I’m really sorry. I don’t want any bad blood. How can I make this up to you?”

“Go on a date with me.” It came out of his lips so fast that Tsukishima didn’t have time to cover it up with a cough. How could he let that slip from his lips, he always thought before speaking. He thought before doing anything! He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, looking away in embarrassment. “Go on…just go on a date with me, please. I’ve liked you since high school, moron.”

You smiled and hugged him, squeezing his torso with all your might. Of course, Tsukishima thought this was adorable, he was a foot taller than you. “Of course, I’ll go on a date with you! Where?” You asked as you looked up, the prettiest smile plastered across your shining face. Fuck, Tsukishima was totally screwed. He’d give you the world right then and there if he wasn’t so proud. 

“My dorm? Yamaguchi is out with friends for the weekend.”

“Yamaguchi has friends other than you? Damn, he really grew up.”

“Indeed,”

Tsukishima’s side of the dorm was immaculate. Spotless, organized, and decorated with dinosaur posters. It was cute and nerdy, making you smile. Maybe deep down inside, he wasn’t such a jerk.

[amorchai]

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐌!𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒.

written for my old blog but never posted!

pairing(s): tasm!peter parker x reader

words: 926

warnings/tags: established relationship, r is implied to have a period – however, not ultimately gender specific.

it had been early evening, the sun setting across the horizon of new york, a faded orange hue emitting in the small apartment window of your kitchen as you stand by the stove. you’re scrolling through your phone, trying to relocate the recipe with your ingredients waiting by the countertop.

however, from the moment you pour water into the large pot atop the heating hob, you jump at the sound of a tapping window. turning your head, you’re met with the masked face of spider-man, a dorky wave sent your way.

leaving your things to the side, you wipe your hands across your apron before walking towards the tiny window to push open, allowing peter to stumble into the room. “hey, baby,” his adorable voice starting as he tugs the backpack from his shoulders to place on the wobbly kitchen table which tilts upon impact, “still need to fix that,” peter notes to himself while pulling his mask off.

his spikey hair flops in front of his eyes as he discards the mask to the side, facing you with open arms who smiles at him warmly with the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen. peter places a kiss on your head as you melt into his chest.

“thought i’d find you in here at this time.”

“you know me too well,” you reply, mumbled against peter’s chest. he smirks, hands trailing up and down your arms softly while looking over your head to the array of ingredients, “what’s for dinner tonight?”.

pulling away from him, you walk towards the kitchen counter and back to the food ready to cook, allowing peter to follow you like a lost-puppy, arms swivelling so he can cuddle you from behind.

“noodles with veg, going to make some curry sauce,” peter hums approvingly, against your head. “that time of the month?” asks peter, knowing they’re two of your comfort foods merged together.

“yeah.”

“well, perfect timing, because in that case…” peter trails off, arms dropping from your side and allowing you to start cutting some spring onion, curiously listening for him to continue.

usually on days like this, he would stop by your apartment before going on patrol, leaving a bag of fresh clothes to change into when he would return to your side for night-time cuddles. however, tonight he has a thicker bag containing more things.

“what’s that, pete?” you ask curiously when the shuffling from behind stops, you turn your head to catch a glimpse of his face. he holds up three books under his chin with his eyes squished into an innocent, happy smile to show off.

“got you these,” his voice a murmur as his gloved hands moves the books into a tower while returning to your side to show you. cheesy romantic stories, laced with fake dating tropes or colleagues to lovers because it became a tradition to both read the same cliché books and talk about the scenarios afterwards.

you knew while he got you these, it was partly because he loves those categories himself and knew it would be up for grabs once you’re done. plus, you had little space left around the house for your endless books, mainly bought with or by peter himself, feeding the addiction.

but ever since dating you, finding your love in books appeasing and was able to take the time he lost when becoming spider-man to start reading again. your favourite date with your spider-boy being reading days in the café or under a tree during a warm summer’s day.

“thank you but you know more than anyone that i don’t need more books, pete,” you giggle and glance up at his proud and giddy expression as he dismisses your comment to show you the cover to the second book. “this cover reminded me of you, i really liked the purple background and illustrated flowers, plus this is also fake dating!”

you watch the way peter gushes, unable to look at the covers as you mainly focus on his reaction to his gestures so sweet but he considers casual. “are they all fake dating?” you ask with a grin, peter checking the third book before meeting her eyes, flitting between each one with his dorky smile matching yours.

“yup,” a pop in the ‘p’ while he responds.

“do you sometimes wish that you fake dated me first before we fell in love?” you ask in a teasing tone, watching as peter leans closer, nudging your nose as he shakes his head lovingly. “you didn’t give me time to, by the time you spilled the coffee on me i was already head over heels,” you scrunch your eyes at his response before he continued, “which is the cliché romantic meeting i’m more than happy to claim, we’re our own romance book, baby.”

with a kiss upon your lips, peter begrudgingly moves away with a displeasing groan while placing the books beside his bag, “gotta go on patrol, i’ll be back later, ‘k?”. you nod with a smile, turning back to the counter but watching peter as he moves to the open window, mask in hand.

“i’ll leave you some food in the fridge.” you comment as he slides the mask back over his face, leaning out the window but willing to respond normally, “thank you, baby. i better come back to you asleep with one of your new books.”

“you bet. be safe, spidey.” you reply, watching as he gives you a thumbs up before shooting a web at the building across, shouting while he jumps, “love you, baby!”

amorchai masterlist . taglist form

amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[siffrins-therapist]

👾censoredmandibiles Follow

OK time to settle something

EDIT: this post WAY ended up breaking containment. GO CLUTCH YOUR PEARLS ELSEWHERE

🦑tentacleovi Follow

YO FREE BLOCKLIST IN THE NOTES HOLY SHIT

#RIP OP's notifs #i don't go here but i suggest making popcorn before diving into those notes #some of it is puritan bs you'd expect #some of it is discourse i never even knew existed

41.6K Notes

🕷️friendofcharlotte

I think a painting my friend got at a thrift store was painted by Mr. Italy Veneziano? Is there a way to authenticate it? Google isn't helping.

⭐wishonadeadstar Follow

Try here. Turns out my nan's portrait of her farmhouse was originally painted by Mr. Romano when he was living in NY during the 1920's.

🕷️friendofcharlotte

THANK YOU

8 Notes

📽️bisexuallightinggoggles Follow

hey yo so the US rep put like 100 hours into playing that game Spiritfarer just this week... anyone want to go check on the guy??

💿newagepirate Follow

There are literally government workers who's literal job it is to check on him

⛰️lesbianmothernature Follow

how tf do you know he put 100 hours into playing a game anyway????

📽️bisexuallightinggoggles Follow

We're friends on Steam. He adds like everyone who asks.

And for everyone in the notes asking what Spiritfarer is it's one of those cozy simulator games here's the trailer.

#isn't the 'deathiversary' of his friend Davie this week? #i'm definitely not the first person to think of that #okay looking at the notes was a mistake #like i'm not one of those ppl who puts #'DNI if your username makes fun of davies death' but #immortal or not #even if it happend centuries ago #you can still be sad your FUCKING FRIEND DIED

12.3k Notes

🥾hikingawayfrommyfeelings Follow

So if I become a citizen of Ladonia can he just... visit me through my computer?

🦝trashypanda Follow

He gets mad when you summon him :(

🦘callmejoeythewayi Follow

"summon him" Like a fucking demon?

🫒shrekbignaturals Follow

We are NOT rehashing that old discourse.

🎱magic8saveme Follow

Oh god I just revived my blog after escaping x/twitter and last time I saw that disk hoarse, my dash was just post after post of this for DAYS

🪄magictrio-dropout

#was there actual discourse about whether the nation-people were demons? #cuz the discourse i saw on my dash was #whether tales of things like demons vampires and #other immortal or 'came back to life' creatures #were born from when the nation-people resurrecting #or like #doing creepy stuff

IDK about tumblr or the first bit (I've personally never heard that at least not from anyone being serious) but the other stuff has been debated in academia for decades! One of my literature professors is ADAMANT that the vampire myth can be traced to old folklore about the reps and them reviving and possibly the blood-drinking comes from an evolution of the myth when before, old stories talked about blood soaking the earth where vampires rose. If anyone's interested, here's where you can find my professor's paper about it.

🎃warongayxmas

So like. *grabs a bat and slowly approaches a hornet's nest* Then does the Jesus story have the same roots then?

🫒shrekbignaturals Follow

WE 👏 ARE 👏 NOT 👏 RE 👏 HASHING 👏 THAT 👏 DISCOURSE👏

🥾hikingawayfrommyfeelings Follow

Wtf happened to my post???

#so did OP become a Ladonian citizen or what?

187.4k Notes

🐦‍pinchforawish Follow

MY DAD GOT TO SEE MR ENGLAND LIVE BACK WHEN HE WAS IN A PUNK BAND

🐦‍pinchforawish Follow

TUMBLR WTF HOW TF DOES THIS VIOLATE GUIDELINES

🏴dinotonugget-deactivated

Finally. Proof that the site runs so shittily bc Mr. Eyebrows works for staff

🫎moosecrossing Follow

Spoke the truth and got fucking killed for it

67.9 Notes

[flightlessangelwings]

My Knight in White

Marc Spector x fem!reader

Word count- 4.3k

Dialogue prompt- “ that was for saving my life. “ Action prompt- [ KISS ]: after having been saved from immediate danger by the receiver, the sender, in a state of intense emotion and relief, kisses them to express these feelings.

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), protective!Marc, mutual pining, minor violence, minor character death, harassment of reader (not Marc), damsel in distress, unprotected piv, no use of y/n

About this reader- she is smart but not physically badass, works with Egyptian artifacts but I left it vague so you can fill in for yourself exactly what she does, no specific city where they are is stated either so it's open for you to imagine wherever, no physical descriptions other than body parts

Notes- Posting my October Year of Protectiveness @yearofcreation2023 a little late because of kinktober but I'm so excited to share this! This is expanding on an idea that @melodygatesauthor had months ago who wanted to see a damsel in distress reader and Marc saving her!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifications to stay up to date on when I post!

~

“You’re here late,” Marc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, refocusing your eyes to the world around you. Looking around, you didn’t even realize how long you had been hunched over your desk, studying and cleaning the artifact that had recently been brought in. “Marc…” you breathed as you stretched, your back aching as you became aware of reality again.

He smiled softly as he uncrossed his arms, “You work too much, you know that,” he leaned against the doorway as he watched you. 

Marc loved to watch you work. He loved to watch you do anything really, but when you worked, you became so focused, lost in concentration. You handled the old artifacts with such care and respect, he couldn’t help but linger his gaze on your hands. He had never met anyone smarter than you, and he loved to listen to you go on and on about any topic you found interesting. Marc took it upon himself to watch over you, making sure you were always safe even if you never truly knew just how much he looked over you.

“I lost track of time,” you replied as you gathered yourself and packed everything away, “I didn’t realize it’s after dark.”

“And the fact that everyone else left hours ago didn’t clue you in,” Marc smirked.

“Hey,” you playfully chastised him, “I can’t help it, I just got in the zone, you know. Besides, these new artifacts are so fascinating I just can’t tear myself away from them!”

It suddenly occurred to you that you and Marc were completely alone. He was right- everyone else left hours ago. As you stood up and made your way over to him, you took in his handsome features once more. And the way he leaned against the door made your thoughts run wild. The two of you had known each other for some time now, but you kept your true feelings to yourself, afraid of damaging your friendship or losing him.

Marc looked you up and down, “Want me to walk you home?” he offered as he followed behind you, watching you flip the lights off and lock everything up.

“I’m alright,” you suddenly felt nervous. Marc has been to your place many times, but the shiver that ran up your spine made your heart race, “I don’t live that far.”

He furrowed his brow, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a soft smile, “Thanks, though,” you stepped in front of him before you turned back, “Good night.”

Marc watched you walk away before he whispered a hushed, “Good night.”

He watched you as you made your way down the street in the darkness until he couldn’t see you anymore. Marc had already decided he was going to follow you anyway, watching over you from afar, but when he saw a group of sketchy-looking men with wicked grins sneer and tail behind you, he knew he had to do more to keep you safe.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you made your way down the street. You didn’t make it far from Marc when you noticed that a group of men started to follow behind you, and though you couldn’t make out their exact words, you knew they were talking about you. In that moment, you wished you took Marc up on his offer to walk you home, but you couldn’t turn around now. All you could do was hope you got inside fast before they caught up to you.

“Hey sweet cheeks,” one of them called out to you.

Too late.

You glanced over your shoulder and found that they were even closer to you than you thought, and you quickly bolted down the street without a word. That only egged them on more, however, and you heard them laughing behind you as they sped up as well.

“Oh come on, sweetheart,” they sneered, “We just want to talk to you.”

A gasp escaped your lips as you turned down a street, hoping to lose them. But, your plan immediately backfired as you found yourself trapped in an alleyway at a dead end. And you failed to shake them off your tail.

“Please,” you breathed as fear pulsed through your veins, “I’m just trying to get home.”

The men surrounded you, darkness shading their features, “We’ll get you home, sweet girl.”

The others chuckled as they started to reach for you.

“Please leave me alone,” you tried to sound more assertive, but you knew you didn’t intimate them at all. They were all very muscular and taller than you, and you knew you didn’t stand a chance even if you tried to fight back. But that didn’t mean you were going to go down without a fight.

You screamed when one of them grabbed your arm, and you swung your fist into him as hard as you could while digging your feet into the ground. Gritting your teeth, you tried your best to yank yourself from his grip, but tears of frustration filled your eyes when you realized it was useless.

“No!” you cried out as you tried again, your pleas drowned out by their cackling laughter.

Suddenly, your luck changed.

Out of nowhere, something yanked the man who helped you back and he yelped as he found himself flung against the wall of the alleyway. The other men all looked up as a hooded figure in all white descended down and immediately went on the attack against them.

You gasped as you scurried back out of the scuffle, pressing yourself against the opposite wall as much as you could as if you tried to phase through the wall and disappear. Your eyes went wide as you watched the mysterious hero fight off the men who attacked you, beating and punching them down until none of them moved.

The figure then turned to you, and time froze for several moments.

He raised his hands in surrender, “I’m not going to hurt you,” the voice from under the mask said.

You couldn’t help but feel like the voice was familiar. But, you stayed silent.

“Are you ok? Are you hurt?” your rescuer asked as he stepped closer to you, looking you over.

Your hands trembled, but not from fear this time. Taking a deep breath in for the first time in what felt like forever, you finally replied in a hushed voice, “No,” you whispered, “I’m alright.”

As he stepped close enough so you could reach for him if you wanted, you studied his outfit more. He wore all white, but as he got closer, you noticed it looked like linen wrappings, almost like a mummy. A crescent moon symbol adorned his chest and a white cloak covered his head. You could see the muscle definition even through the thick wrappings, and it made you swallow hard.

You had no idea what came over you at that moment- perhaps it was the adrenaline- but without a word, you reached out for him, grabbed him and pulled your bodies closer as you laid a kiss on his mask where his mouth would be.

It caught him off guard, but he didn’t push you away. Instead, he cradled you close, holding onto your waist with one hand and your arm with the other. It felt warm, comfortable, right.

“What was that for?” he asked with a smirk in his voice.

You smiled at him, “That was for saving my life,” your voice was still hushed, your breath taken away, “Thank you.”

He cupped your chin affectionately. Through the mask, he studied you up close. Everything in Marc screamed to take it off and tell you who he was, but he also knew that knowing his secret would put you in danger. And Marc would not allow that. For now, he would be satisfied knowing you were safe, and that he was just in time. He only nodded, not saying anything else before he broke away from you and leapt up into the air, disappearing into the night just as mysteriously as he appeared. 

You watched in bewilderment as it took your brain several moments to process what just happened. You touched your lips as you realized that you kissed a total stranger, and one who you didn’t even see his face too. But, as you looked around and saw the men laying on the ground, the adrenaline ran through your veins once more and you ran out of the alleyway and quickly made your way home.

The whole time, Marc watched from the rooftops until you were safely inside.

*

In the following weeks, you threw yourself completely into your work to cope with what happened that night. A mix of emotions constantly filled your head, and you found that pushing them away with the distraction of work was the easiest way to deal with them. There were days where you hardly looked up from your desk, so deep in concentration that the rest of the world was a blur around you.

Marc kept a watchful eye over you the entire time. He knew why you were like this, but when others asked he feigned ignorance. No one had to know what happened to you, and it wasn’t up to him to tell anyway. Instead, he chose to keep an eye on you from afar, like he always did. 

Vaguely, you were aware of Marc’s presence in the shadows… and it felt familiar to you somehow. He always kept an eye on you, but after that night it somehow felt different. But, having him close was one of the few comforts you had after your attack. Yet, your mind also wandered toward the mysterious hooded figure who rescued you… 

“Hey,” Marc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. 

You looked up with a startled gasp, not realizing how late it got. Again. “Marc,” you breathed. 

He looked worried, “Everything alright?” Marc asked, “You’ve seemed… off lately.”

Your eyes darted from his face to your desk a few times as you felt nervous suddenly, “I’m fine,” you knew you didn’t convince him, you didn’t even convince yourself.

Marc sighed your name as he settled down next to you, “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m here for you.”

Heat rose in your face, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” you exhaled deeply, “Besides, you’d just make fun of me.”

“Never!” he exclaimed, acting playfully offended before he turned serious, “What’s on your mind?”

The comforting tone in his voice and the warmth of his presence allowed you to let your guard down, “Ok…” you took a breath, “The night I was here late a few weeks ago,” you started, “A group of guys tried to jump me,” your voice quivered and you felt Marc’s hand over yours, “But I was saved by…” you paused as you looked at him sheepishly, “A guy in a hood and something that looked like mummy wrappings.”

Marc’s face lit up as he grinned knowingly at you.

You nudged him playfully as you erupted into a fit of giggles out of pure embarrassment, “See I knew you were going to laugh at me!”

“No, sweetheart I’m not laughing at you,” Marc raised his hands defensively, “I swear!”

Something changed in the air between you as you stared at each other. The light atmosphere shifted and it felt like something heavy lingered between the two of you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you realized just how close Marc sat to you, and your breath caught in your throat as you studied his features. Not to mention that was the first time he called you anything affectionate like that…

“Marc…”

“Listen, I…,” he started, interrupting you.  

Leaning in, you were entranced by him and you hung on his every word. Just being near him and laughing like this made all your troubles melt away. You felt safe here, with him. 

But, before Marc could continue, a loud crash cut him off. 

Both of you jumped up, and you let out a soft shriek. Marc immediately went into defense mode and every muscle in his body tensed. It was late, and the two of you were the only ones in the building. He made sure the doors were locked too, so he knew whoever broke in meant trouble.

“Marc?” your voice shook.

“Listen to me,” he turned to you and placed his hands on your shoulders, “I need you to sneak out of here. Take the back exit and hide somewhere. I’m going to distract them and get a path for you to get out.”

“But the artifacts,” you whispered as you glanced over at the old objects on your desk that you spent weeks cleaning and studying. The first thought in your mind was that these are robbers looking to steal and sell them, and you didn’t want that to happen.

“Things can be replaced,” Marc sounded urgent, “We can get them back. I’m more worried about getting you safe right now.”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him, stunned. Just as you were about to reply, though, another crash made you jump and Marc pulled you in close to keep you calm.

“It's gonna be alright,” he murmured to you, “Just trust me. Ok?”

You pulled back to look into his eyes again, “I trust you.”

He nodded as he pressed his lips together, “Ok,” how Marc sounded nervous, “Stay low. Stay in the shadows. And just get out. You hear me?”

Swallowing hard, you nodded. Then your brain caught up with you, “What about you?”

Marc smirked, “I’ll be alright. Just trust me.”

There was no time for explanations as another crash echoed in the room- they were getting closer. Marc ushered you out of the door and down the hall before he ran in the opposite direction towards the intruders. You glanced over your shoulder at his retreating figure before you made your way down the hall, crouching low and out of sight as you did so. 

As you made your way to the back door, however, you noticed that it was blocked- one of them already made his way there.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath as you changed direction. Instead, you went up to the roof in hopes of finding a place to hide until Marc did… whatever he was planning to do. 

But that plan also quickly backfired. 

You ran up to the roof and into the open area there, but you were met with yet another thug who blocked the opposite entrance from where you were.

“Well look what we have here,” he said with a dark grin on his face.

Letting out a gasp, you tried to run back where you came from, but another sinister shadowy man blocked that path. “Where do you think you’re going?” he growled.

“Please,” was all you could whimper as you felt them close in on you. 

The men just laughed as they stepped closer, reaching for their guns as they did so. But, before they reached you, one of them was yanked back, slamming into the wall. You looked up and saw the same hooded figure that saved you before swooping down from seemingly nowhere.

More of the thugs appeared from the doorway and they yelled as they pulled out their guns and started to fire on both of you. The hooded figure rushed over to you and wrapped his cloak over both your bodies, shielding you.

You covered your head out of instinct, but as you felt a warm presence, you looked up and found yourself face to face with your linen wrapped savior once more.

“It’s you,” you gasped in relief. The ringing of the guns suddenly sounded distant.

The mask started to peel away on its own, revealing none other than Marc. He breathed your name, “Are you alright?” 

“It’s you!” you sounded stronger that time, in total shock that it was Marc the whole time.

“I told you I wasn’t making fun of you,” he flashed a quick smile before he turned serious again, “I don’t have time to explain now,” he said, “I’m going to fight these guys off. You need to hide somewhere until they’re dealt with. I’ll come find you when it’s safe, I promise.”

The intruders and the guns were more pressing at the moment, so you swallowed and nodded. 

When Marc found an opening, he pushed you towards the door, “Go!” he shouted as he turned back to the intruders and fought them off.

You ran. 

Running on pure instinct, you bolted down the hall and turned a corner into a closet. Luckily, no one was around and you hid yourself well. You crouched in the corner as you listened to the grunts and gunshots in the distance. At one point, you covered your mouth to stifle a scream, suddenly scared for Marc. You fought back tears, swearing to yourself that you wouldn’t cry. 

Just as you squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath, the fighting stopped. Silence filled your ears but you didn’t dare move. Your hands trembled slightly against your face as you strained to hear the one voice that would bring you comfort.

And then you heard it.

Marc called out your name as he stood in the hall, frantically looking for you, “Baby it’s alright. You can come out.”

You let out the breath you held, all your fear escaping with it as you leapt up and out of your hiding spot. Down the hall, you saw Marc standing there, his knighty suit still adorning his body but his face exposed. “Marc,” you breathed in relief as you ran towards him.

“Sweetheart,” he sounded just as relieved as he ran towards you with open arms. 

The two of you crashed together in a messy embrace, emotions getting the better of both of you. He rested a hand on the back of your head while the other pulled you in as close as he possibly could. Tears flowed from your eyes as relief washed over you, yet the pulse of fear still ran through you after everything that happened. Vaguely, you heard Marc whispering soft words of encouragement and reassurance in your ear. 

“Come on,” Marc said, “I’m getting you out of here,” he slid his hand in yours.

“But…” you tried to protest, not wanting to leave any of the artifacts alone.

“It’s ok,” he gave you a soft smile, “They’re dealt with. Right now I want to make sure you’re safe.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to process everything. So much happened in such a short time, and you weren’t sure how to react to it. Time passed in a daze as you found yourself at Marc’s place, settled comfortably on his couch with a mug of tea in your hands. You felt safe with him, of course, but you felt like you were outside your body.

The two of you talked for what felt like hours. Marc told you everything- all of his secrets that he kept hidden for so long. He promised you that he would always protect you, and he explained why he didn’t tell you before. As he talked, the sound of his voice calmed you, like an embrace of your heart. Your eyes moved from where they stared at the mug to meet his gaze.

“I promise you, baby,” Marc cupped your face, “Nothing’s ever going to happen to you. I’ll keep you safe no matter what.”

Heat rose in your face, and you were sure Marc felt how warm you were. But, as you stared into his eyes, you felt your heart flutter and his charming gleam sent a rush of fresh emotions through you. Without a word, you closed the gap between your bodies, crashing your lips together. Muffled groans echoed between you as you climbed into his lap and Marc instantly helped you closer. Deepening the kiss, you felt a tingle on your skin as you tasted him, and you felt the reverberation of his moan against your body.

“What was that for?” he asked in a whisper, “Not that I’m complaining.”

You smirked against Marc, “I wanted to thank you properly,” you breathed, “With a real kiss this time.”

Marc cupped your face as he gazed into your soul through your eyes, “Baby…” he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for another kiss.

This time, it felt different. It was desperate and heated, but there was also the warmth and passion behind it. You moaned into Marc’s lips as you rocked your hips against his. He tightened his grip on you as a rush of need pulsed through his veins, and he couldn’t help the way his cock twitched underneath you.

Breaking away for air, Marc saw the look of wanton need in your eyes, and he knew exactly what you were thinking, “Are you sure about this, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

You cupped his face, brushed your fingers along his dark curls, “I’m sure,” you whispered as you kissed him again, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you paused before you sheepishly added, “I’ve wanted this so so long…”

Marc grinned, his face lighting up, “Then let’s do this right.”

Shifting your bodies, Marc stood up and extended his hand. You eagerly took it and allowed him to lead you over to his bed. Excitement bloomed between you and before you even made it to the bed, your hands were all over each other. Kisses decorated your steps as you each tugged at the other’s clothing until you were bare.

You and Marc crashed into his bed, and he quickly laid overtop of you. He paused for a moment, breathless as he took in the sight of you bare underneath him, “Fuck you are beautiful,” he breathed.

“So are you,” you sighed in pure admiration as you grabbed his face and yanked him in for another kiss, “We can take our time later,” you murmured between kisses, “I need you too bad right now.”

“Fuck,” he groaned as he rocked his length along your folds. It didn’t go unnoticed that you mentioned a next time either… But your moan broke Marc out of that thought, and a shiver ran up his spine as he felt his cock against your pussy, “Wet already,” he smirked.

“Please Marc,” you pleaded. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he moaned as he lined himself up with your entrance.

Slowly, carefully, Marc pushed himself into you, causing you both to gasp at the same time. You clawed at his arms, holding on for dear life as the slight burn of his cock stretching you out went jolts of pleasure through your body. Fresh tears filled your eyes at the sensation, and you never felt more alive, more pleasure than ever before.

“Marc…”

He groaned your name as he bottomed out inside you, “Fuck,” he breathed. Marc cradled your face as he rocked in and out of you, slowly at first, but the more you moaned the faster he moved, “You’re perfect,” he moaned, “Shit…”

“Fuck… Marc… You feel so good,” you moaned as you saw stars every time his cock slammed into you.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the tingles of your approaching climax. Your legs trembled on either side of Marc’s body as he thrust into you over and over again and you dug your nails into his soft skin as you clung to him. Incoherent praises flowed from his lips as both your moans grew louder and louder as you lost yourselves in each other.

“Marc… I’m…”

“I’ve got you, baby,” Marc repeated his words from earlier.

Skin slapped against skin as Marc felt his own climax apparach. But, he was determined to send you over the edge first, and with just a few more thrusts of his hips, he got what he wanted. With a loud scream, you came hard, crying out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. And fuck you had never looked more beautiful to Marc.

He kept up his pace as long as he could, watching the show you put on just for him and savoring every second of it. But, Marc’s eyes started to roll back as he felt his orgasm quickly build, egged on by the way you clenched your inner muscles around his cock. And with a groan of your name, he came right after you, spilling himself into you as he did so.

Marc collapsed on top of you, completely spent. But, after just a few breaths, he shifted himself, pulling out of you with a hiss before he laid next to you. You let out a whine at the loss, but quickly curled yourself up in his embrace as Marc held you close. You closed your eyes as you rested your head on his chest, listening to the pounding of his heartbeat against your ear.

“Marc, I…”

“Shhh,” he gently hushed you, “Just rest now baby,” Marc cradled your head as he placed a soft kiss, “I’ve got you.”

You hummed contently as sleep quickly took you over. Between the excitement, the danger and the rush of emotions, you suddenly found yourself exhausted and in no time you feel sound asleep in Marc’s arms.

Marc stayed awake for some time, listening to the sound of your heavy breaths. He knew exactly what you wanted to say, and as much as he wanted to hear you say those words, he knew it was better to wait. He gave your body one extra squeeze before he whispered to your sleeping form, “You’re safe with me, sweetheart… I love you.” 

[swallowtail-lotus]

🔱Secret Lullaby {Poseidon x Goddess!Reader}🔱

Repost of my original post from my old blog.

God, just looking at him makes me want to kiss him 😍

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat in the middle of your greenhouse, patting a small bunny that hopped in your lap. You watched the past few rounds of ragnarok with sad eyes, feeling dread inside.

Being the God/Goddess of peace wasn't easy.

You love humans and everything on Earth, as it is your home. Before you went to Valhalla, you used to live in a forest where no human dared to set foot in unless If they wanted a death wish.

Of course, you never brought harm to humans but you eventually left after Zeus found you and offered you to live with the gods.

Being the secretive being you are, you agreed but only if no deity disturbs you when you wanted to be left alone and to never let them know of your secret place.

So far, no God or Goddess has ever found your greenhouse. Even if they bothered to try, they couldn't find it. This was due to one of your masking spells, which was more effective to deities compared to the humans.

Thinking back on how the gods have tried to get answers out of you, but failed due to your ability to slip away fast enough. Those thoughts escalated to your past, where you were once filled with joy.

With your mother, who had lost her life to another God.

"I miss you, mother. So very much."

You thought, wiping away tears that slowly trickled down your face. You looked down at the bunny, who looked up and sat up. It leaned against your chest, trying to lean its face towards yours. You lifted the small bunny up and felt its face nuzzle yours, an attempt to cheer you up.

"Ah, thank you. I feel better now."

You cooed softly, patting its head with a sad smile. You felt something nudge your leg, something hard. You leaned forward to see a small harp near your right foot and a grey bunny pushing it towards your foot.

You held your hand over the harp, watching it levitate towards your hand. The grey bunny hopped on your right leg, nuzzling your waist while the white bunny copied the grey bunny.

"Such cuties."

You mumbled softly, watching them get comfortable on your lap and stopped to lay down. Your fingers hovered over the strings of your harp, slightly shaking from the sadness building up.

"Hope you're hearing this, mother..."

You muttered under your breath, strumming your harp slowly. Closing your eyes, you let yourself drown in the melodic music from your strumming. You opened your lips to sing quietly.

Soon, the animals in your greenhouse started to gather around, watching and listening to your voice. Then, the plants started swaying slowly to the music. At the end of the lullaby, a voice brought you out of your thoughts.

"What are you doing?"

Your eyes shot open at the sudden voice, growing wider when you saw who it was.

It was none other than Poseidon, the Sea God himself.

You stared at the God before you, internally panicking, mainly about how he knew of your greenhouse. You placed the harp down nervously, fiddling with your fingers.

"I-I was just playing a lullaby. Umm, how did you find my greenhouse?"

You squeaked out, feeling yourself shrink smaller when the God took a few steps forward, not too close to you.

"... It wasn't hard to follow you. I've known for a long time."

He answered, his emotionless face along with his voice sending chills down your spine. You knew very well he never speaks much to any being, even to his brothers. So him speaking to you now of all times baffled you. Truth be told, he has spoke to you more times than anyone else. But hearing him ask about your main hobby was strange.

The reason behind that was most likely because you were a Ruler, the Ruler of Nature.

"So you have. Never expected less from you, of course."

You spoke, gripping your clothes so tightly. Poseidon raised his eyebrows slightly, his shoulders dropping.

"....."

He kept silent, staring down at you with his dull eyes. Your head was down, but you knew he was staring. The sound of his boots clicking away got your attention. You held the bunnies close to you, standing up from your seat.

"See you, Lord Poseidon."

You whispered. Poseidon stopped at the entrance of your greenhouse, giving you the side eye glance.

".... Goodbye."

Those was the last words he let out before leaving. You stood in silence, a confused look on your face.

"What just happened?"

[ramirezmindset]

ғᴀɴʙᴏʏ ʜᴀs ᴀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ?!

ᴍɪᴄᴋᴇʏ ɢᴀʀᴄɪᴀ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

→ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: you've been married to mickey for nearly three years now, but things can only stay secret for so long, especially when a certain Jake discovers you two on a coffee date...

→ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: adult language, but mainly fluff and a few sexual innuendos (no smut) :P definite naval inaccuracies, mickey and y/n are both around twenty-eight years old during this. ↳ wc: 3050

→ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: first post on this blog also first time writing in maybe 4 (??) years eeeek!!! hope it lives up to the hype, feelin funky fresh - requests are open!

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seven years ago

You were a fresh spring chicken. A graduate, an adult, a taxpayer, looking on towards the horizon at your fresh and gleaming new life, the excitement was palpable. You and your best girlfriend, Cara, had moved into your new San Diego apartment a mere seven months ago, both of you having job offers out the door. Maybe being grown up wasn't so bad.

There was one thing missing from your life, you thought, as you looked out the window of the café you and Cara settled on for coffee. You didn't have anyone.

"Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?" Cara exclaimed, a slight smirk on her face. You didn't realise you said that out loud. She knew exactly what you meant by 'anyone', she just loved to tease you. You rolled your eyes at her and chuckled.

"C, you know exactly what I mean. You have Sophie, who, by the way, might as well start paying rent considering she's at our apartment every. Single. Night." Now it was Cara's turn to roll her eyes.

You had always been the shy guy out of your friends, much preferring comics and solo nights in to crazy nights on the trot. It's not that you were against an alcohol fuelled 'gals about the town' evening with all your best friends, but nothing beat the comfort of laying on the couch doing absolutely nothing all by yourself.

And you complain you don't have anyone. The hypocrisy is almost laughable as you take a sip of your coffee. You were just never the type to attract anyone, it's not that you were bad looking, or lacked the social skills to keep someone engaged in conversation, it's just that you never liked the people who approached you. They were always too this, or too that, and despite all of your friends telling you that "his favourite spiderman suit will not affect the sex", you just couldn't do it.

"Yeah, about that" Cara trailed off, running the tip of her finger over the rim of her mug. "Sophie and I have been together for a while now..."

"Six months, three weeks, and five days" You replied, closing your eyes in disbelief at the fact you even know that let alone said it out loud.

"Yes, however long that is" Cara waved her hand at you. "Anyway, Sophie mentioned that her and I get our own place together." She squinted her eyes at you, trying to gage how you were feeling, but you stayed silent, lips pursed.

"Ok" You sighed. "I don't blame you. Do it!"

"Really? You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" You giggled before reaching across the table to hold her hand. "You're my best friend, and I'm so glad that you and Sophie found each other, and I want you to go and be happy and live life and have sex and not have to worry about waking me up 'cos the walls in our apartment are so thin!"

Cara chuckled and shook her head. "Yeah, that is a perk, actually. But now, you'll have an empty apartment, go rent the spare room out to a hot guy or bring someone home and fuck them as loud as you want and-" Her jaw falls slack. "Don't look now, but look now, is that not the most delicious man you've ever seen!"

You turn your head to look in the same direction as her, and sure enough, the most attractive man you've ever seen in your life is approaching the barista just a mere few metres away from you.

"Holy shit" slips off your tongue before you can even think, and you can't stop yourself from staring at him.

He was standing there, looking around nervously, his hands thrust into the pockets of his loose-fitting jeans. A mop of inky curls sat upon his head, just leaving his chocolate brown eyes in your view as they darted around the room. His T-Shirt hugged his biceps almost too well, as if it was made for him, and you could feel your mouth practically watering at the sight of him.

"Cara, kill me right now. Just fucking kill me immediately" You pulled your eyes away from him to see Cara sinking into her chair, her hand covering her mouth as she was nearly crying from laughter. "What is so funny?"

"Nothing, I've just- I've never seen you like this before" She takes a deep breath and rubs her eyes. "Go talk to him! If you don't fuck him, I will, and I'm gay!"

"No! Cara, no, I can barely talk to ugly guys, and he is-" You close your eyes and swallow. "And he is actually raw sex appeal"

Before you know it, Cara is kicking your shins underneath the table, using her feet to twist your knees to the side and practically force you to stand up.

"At least go order another drink whilst he's there! Just smell him, I know you want to!" She laughs as you nervously approach the space at the register next to him.

He makes eye contact with you as you walk past, whipping his head to follow your body as you make your way to the counter. You're internally cursing yourself for wearing a stupid Spiderman sweater for coffee, I look like such a freak, you think.

"1984, Secret Wars" someone says from beside you. You whip your head towards him, eyes wide and confused. "Your sweater. The first black Spiderman suit, 1984, Secret Wars" He smiles awkwardly.

"How did you-" You shake your head. "Yeah, yeah it is" You glance over his shoulder at Cara, who is sat there with her mouth agape at your absolutely horrendous attempt at chat. "Um, it's nice to meet someone who knows this stuff. I felt like a total dork in this sweater five seconds ago"

"You shouldn't" He grins at you, a big, gleaming, shit-eating grin. "I love Spiderman, and I think you're cute as fuck" His hand instinctively comes up to nervously scratch at the back of his neck as a blush rises up your face.

"Thank you" You say, grabbing the coffee you forgot you even ordered because you were too busy tripping over your thoughts when you walked over. "I'm Y/N, by the way"

"Mickey" He replies. "I'm Mickey, and I'd love to take you out"

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present day

It had been seven years to the day since you first met Mickey in the café in San Diego, and here you were, in the exact same spot, with the exact same man, ordering the exact same coffee's, except this time with rings adorning your fingers.

The last seven years had been a whirlwind, Cara did end up finding her own place with Sophie, the two of which were still together, and you did end up bringing a hot guy home and fucking him as loud as you wanted to, just as she said on that fateful day, and instead of renting out Cara's old room, you invited Mickey into yours, turning the now empty second bedroom into your comic shrine just two months after your first meeting.

It turns out, yourself and Mickey had more in common than you could've ever imagined, and for the first time in your life, you didn't feel like a total misfit. When you learnt he was a naval aviator, it was a surprise, but something you were willing to work with, there was no way in hell you were going to let a guy this perfect slip from your grasp. Plus, you knew it would all work itself out in the end, evident in the fact he's now working in the city you both live.

You look down at the wedding bands sitting delicately on your finger, thinking about the life you've shared with Mickey, the love, the laughter.

"Cara, I don't think I'm ready for this" Your maid of honour fanned your face with her hand, her eyebrows furrowed together as you paced around the bridal suite of the beautiful wedding venue.

"Pull yourself together, for Christ's sake!" She replied through gritted teeth, grabbing your shoulder's and twisting you round to look at her. "It is your wedding day! I'm the one that's meant to be stressed out, I practically planned this whole thing. You're walking down that aisle, I will drag you down it by your hair if I have to!"

You closed your eyes, Cara's grip on your shoulders feeling like a tonne. Slowly, you sink to sit down on the floor, probably crumpling the skirt of your perfectly steamed white gown.

"I just-" you sigh "What if he runs? What if he realises I'm not what he wants?"

"Are you crazy?" Cara joins you on the floor, holding your clammy hand in hers. "He's probably just as nervous as you are, and I know that sounds bad considering what just came out your mouth, but that man loves you. He practically kisses the ground you walk on!" You let out a small chuckle at this, you know she's right.

"I'm serious!" Your friend continues. "For the last three years, that man has been hellbent on making you smile. He's like a man possessed, he has been ever since he saw you wearing that horrible Spiderman sweater in the café!"

That part was true. Almost immediately after Cara overheard Mickey say he'd loved to take you out, she stalked over, blurting out a quick "she's free tonight!" before grabbing the coffee out your hand and scuttling out the door.

"That works perfect" Mickey blushed shyly. "If you'll let me?" You remember blushing, and bashfully nodding. You were all jelly legs and a puddle of nerves when your doorbell rang at seven on the dot, looking up to see Mickey's vague silhouette through the fogged window of your front door. Since that day, he's never left your side. You've never opened a car door for yourself, never refilled your own water bottle at night, never spent a dime on a pair of shoes, because, no matter what, he's always two steps ahead, reading you like a book.

"Now come on" Cara said, heaving you up and smoothing out the tulle of your dress. "Let's go get you a husband!"

You were enjoying the peace and quiet of the café, hearing the nearby waves crash and fall through the open windows, and the delicious smell of pastries and espresso wafting around the room, the feeling of your husbands protective arm around your shoulder. He looked at you as if he had the stars and the moon in the palm of his hand, the universe glimmering in his eyes as he opened his mouth to say, what you already knew was, 'I love you'. That was, until, the bell above the door behind you rang and, quite frankly, the loudest gasp you've ever heard rings across the place, louder than the gasp Cara gave you when you showed her the huge rock on your finger when Mickey proposed.

"Fanboy?!" Mickey's eyes go wide next to you, and you can practically see the cogs turning in his head. There was no specific reason Mickey kept his marriage a secret from his pilot friends, though he prefers the word 'private'. Not only did it spare him a whole lot of hassle at work, but it kept you free from the pressure of having to actually have to talk to new people. He knew your distaste for meeting new people, the whole 'What's your name? What's your favourite colour? What do you do for a living?" causing actual bile to rise in your throat at the thought of such boring conversation. So when you nervously requested that he not tell his co-workers about your marriage because, in your own words, "I'll have to meet them and then I wont be able to go out and do what I want", a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

"Fanboy, that is you!" The voice repeated. "And...a girl, oooh!" Mickey turned around to see, who you had learned prior to be 'Hangman', Jake Seresin.

"He's nice" Mickey would say. "But he tries to fuck anything that is female, human, and has a pulse, so he's not going anywhere near you!"

"Hi, Hangman!" Mickey forces out, through gritted teeth. "What are you doing here?" His arm falls off your shoulders as he disappears a few steps behind you to greet his friend.

"Getting coffee and a sweet treat, what else?" He laughs, and you can feel his eyes burning into your back. "And who is this?"

You were hoping he had forgotten you were there as you slowly shuffled further and further down the counter, pretending to peruse the pastries as to avoid any social interaction. Mickey and Jake appear next to you, a look in your husband's eyes that can only be interpretated as 'I'm sorry.'

"Uh- Jake, this is Y/N" Mickey says, holding his arm out in an almost jazz-hand manor, presenting you as if you were a finger painting a child was showing their mom.

Jake makes eye contact with the gold band on Mickey's finger before he makes eye contact with you, his eyebrows furrowing. He grabs your left hand, faster than light, inspecting the matching wedding band, the gold glimmering in the afternoon sun that beat through the window. He grabs Mickey's left wrist, holding your hands up next to each other as his eyes flick between them. Suddenly he drops them both as his eyes go wide and another yelp leaves his lips.

"Garcia, you're married?!" He looks like a proud dad.

"Hangman, please-" Mickey's practically starts begging, his hand instinctively reaching for yours, but is cut off by a boyish slap on the shoulder.

"I cannot believe this!" Jake laughs, throwing his head back, his free hand clutching his stomach. "How did I not realise this? What the actual fuck, have I died? Have I died and gone to hell? A world where Fanboy, of all people, has a girlfr- no, not girlfriend, a wife?!?"

Mickey chuckles with him, shaking his head and blushing. He pulls you into him. "Hangman, we keep this private for a reason, so please can we just keep this between us? As in, my wife and I go about as normal and you keep quiet?"

"Keep quiet? About this? No way, I can't, I've never kept a secret in my life!" Jake is practically squealing, who knew a grown man would be this thrilled over someone else's marriage. "I'm sorry, I haven't even introduced myself, I'm Hangman, my friends call me Jake, or daddy, depending on which friend's you're talkin' to, if ya catch my drift"

You shook his hand politely, a nervous smile on your face. "I'm Y/N, uh, nice to meet you"

"So this is why you didn't want anyone to know" Jake looks at Mickey knowingly, crossing his arms and squinting. Mickey raises an eyebrow and cocks his head in confusion. "What, dude, your wife's hot. Better keep her away from Rooster, don't worry, bud, your secrets safe with me."

And with that, Jake retreats out the café, not even ordering his coffee, or sweet treat.

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Your secret was not safe with him.

Later that evening, you were sat at The Hard Deck bar, where you and your husband were frequent flyers, no pun intended. Cara and yourself sat in the corner, nursing a drink each, catching up on the past few weeks, mainly talking about her upcoming wedding. Mickey was on the other side of the bar, pool cue in hand as he made eye contact with you, stealing a sly wink before turning back to his aviator friends.

"Earth to Y/N!" Cara says, waving a hand in front of your face. "God, I wander what would've happened if I never pointed him out to you at that café!"

You were interrupted by a thundering yell by the front door. "Guys!" Oh Christ. "Guys, Fanboy has a wife!"

"That wouldn't have happened, I can tell you that for certain" You rested your head in your hands, avoiding Jake's gaze like the plague before he inevitably would pull you over to the group. You sank further and further into your seat, practically merging with the chair as to avoid being spotted. As per usual, Cara was sat there with a hand slapped over her mouth, muffled laughter escaping through her palm.

"Fanboy has a what?!" The group yell back, almost in sync, as you make eye contact with Mickey who has his head down chuckling. He squeezed his eyes shut, nervously clamping his bottom lip with his teeth, desperately trying to drown out the thousands of questions being hurled his way.

"Since when?"

"Who is she?"

"Do we know her?"

"Is she here?"

"Guys, I think we should all give Mick his privacy, I mean, there's obviously a reason he hasn't said anything-"

"Shut it, Bob!"

"Tell us everything!"

With a nod of his head, you're rolling your eyes and dragging Cara along with you towards him. Your hand is clamped to Cara's, who's still regurgitating laughter behind you. Micky extends an arm as you get closer, putting the pool cue down to reach under his shirt and pull out his dog tags, a gold ring sitting on the chain.

"Jake!" You call out, playfully furrowing your brows at him. "That was supposed to be our little secret" Mickey's arm finds it's way behind your waist as he places a kiss to your temple, you're more than aware that his friends are looking at you, shock plastered across their faces.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry Y/N" Jake said, theatrically wiping sweat off of his forehead, giving you a quick side hug as a greeting, despite only meeting him a mere four hours ago. "I just couldn't keep it in. Our little Fanboy has a wife!"

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[buckys-little-belle]

Chapter One - The Blue Crayon 

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SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW. 

Warnings - Reader cries, first meeting jitters, brief talks of Bucky’s ‘old life’, mainly fluff 

Word Count - 1,836

Note - Releasing this is really scary, and nerve wracking. I'm worried people will hate my new writing style, or won't enjoy the slight changes to the plot/pace/overall creation. Please know that this means a lot to me, and has really given me back a piece of me I thought I lost. Enjoy, and I hope you love this as much as I do <3

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★ Prologue ★ 

After years of feeling out of place no matter where he went, and feeling like he didn’t belong no matter what he did to fit in, Bucky took a trip to a Cafe he remembered from his old days in Brooklyn. 

The interior looked the same as it had decades ago, the soft blue and green diner furniture was in pristine shape. The metal of the counter looked slightly more scratched and worn, but the whole place had the same feel it did when he first walked in years ago. 

While most cafes offered the same types of coffee and treats, none of them were anything like Cafe BigNSmall. Instead of being on a busy street open to just anyone, it was hidden away from prying eyes on a calm street, and was catered towards Littles and Caregivers. 

It was founded before Bucky was even born, a group of people looking for a place to meet up comfortably, but also create a safe space for other Littles and Caregivers that might also be in need of a community. 

Bucky had stumbled his way into a conversation years ago about Littles and Caregivers, at first he didn’t understand what the conversation was about, but after asking a few questions and being given the address to the hardly known, yet also famous, cafe his whole idea around the topic changed. And after a few visits with his best friend by his side the two of them realised that the community they had accidentally found was one they fit perfectly into. 

Bucky half expected the well hidden cafe to be gone, or at least moved to a different location after all these years, but as he walked along the familiar sidewalk and stopped in front of the building he used to visit weekly, a warm feeling spread along his chest. The feeling of finally finding someplace he knew, and some place that knew him, was the best feeling he had felt in a while. 

Even the ding of the welcome bell was the same, the coffee just as good as he remembered it, and the crunch of the leather covered diner booth sounded just as he had remembered it. 

The feeling of sitting at a table alone though was new, his days spent here were always spent with Steve and other people they had met along the way. But now he sat in his favourite booth with a bag full of activities, and a heart in need of a purpose. He realised that even though the building had stayed the same, he hadn’t. 

Weeks went by as he watched groups of Littles and Caregivers sit around tables and talk, colour, and laugh. He understood why people avoided him, if they knew who he was they had reason to walk away, and even if they didn’t know him as ‘The Winter Soldier” he was still dressed head to toe in black, stood at times a foot above everyone else, and always had an easily read as angry expression plastered on his face. 

It had been a month before anyone talked to him, and although he wished that he could have felt included sooner, he was happy that Y/n was the first person he met, even if it took weeks of waiting. 

. ★ . ✪ . ★ .  ✪ . ★ . ✪ . ★ .  ✪ . ★ . 

The sun was shining brightly through the wall of windows, Bucky’s booth drowning in light, the small plant that sat with a basket full of sugar and cream was no doubt enjoying the nice weather. 

Bucky’s coat sat next to him, his phone buzzing from time to time though he ignored it. Instead of calling Steve back, or making sure Sam didn’t need something he surveyed the room, making sure all exits were secure, and danger wasn’t present. 

He, in a way, had given up the idea that he would meet a Little, or even a friend, but decided that in the absence of someone he would spend his time as - unwanted, and unneeded, as well as unofficial - security for those who spent their days here with friends. 

As his eyes drifted to make sure his car parked on a side street was still in tack he heard a small shuffle next to him, then a small voice spoke. “Um, Mr?” He turned his head to see a girl with tear marks down her face staring at him. Her green shirt’s sleeves covered in wiped tears, her overalls slightly off her one shoulder. 

Bucky just stared at her for a second, waiting for her to fizzle away and reveal herself as a dream, or run in fear when she saw his face, but she didn’t. “Hi.” He cleared his throat, trying his best to put on a neutral tone and facial expression. “What’s wrong?” He asked, shuffling in his seat slightly, his nerves evident. 

“My, um.” Her left hand covered in her sleeve came back up to her face, rubbing her eye before she continued. “My crayon broke.” The girls lower lip wobbled now, bringing up what must have happened clearly causing her distress. “The nice cash lady said you, you migh’ have some crayons?” Her voiced lowered to a whisper now. 

Bucky smiled, the warmth he felt when he first stepped inside a month ago finally coming back. His backpack was filled with Little friendly activities and supplies for this reason exactly. “I do.” He answered, unzipping his backpack and pulling out his carton of 96 crayons. “What colour do you need, Bub?” The nickname slipped out on accident, but the girl in front of him didn’t seem to notice, too awe struck by the box of crayons in front of him. 

She sniffled before answering. “I need blue.” She said with a little more confidence. “Hold on.” She whispered, jogging back to what Bucky assumed was her table. “This one, please.” She pulled out two halves of a blue crayon from her box. Her crayon box was smaller than Bucky’s, only a handful of crayons inside, unlike his though her’s had a small sticker on it that read “Y/n.” 

“Y/n?” He asked, the girl snapping her head to him, her eyes wide. Bucky tapped the sticker on her box, Y/n flipping it over and realising how he now knew her name. “There’s too many blue crayons in this box to know what one you want.” He said, hoping it didn’t come off mean or like he was showing off his ‘better’ supplies. “Why don’t you take the box back to your table and use any of the crayons I have for the day.” He offers, hoping that his generosity could help earn Y/n’s trust over time. 

“Can I jus’ sit here?” Y/n asked, her hands fiddling with the box in her hands. 

“You want to sit here?” Bucky parrots her words back to her, hardly believing that she would want to sit with him. 

“Yeah, if that’s okay.” Her lower lip began to wobble again as she took a step back. “Unless, I’m sorry, I can go.” She said quickly, clearly taking Bucky’s surprise as anger. 

“You can sit here.” Bucky’s words were also spoken quickly, worried if he didn’t say anything right away she would run from him. “No one’s wanted to sit with me yet, I’m just surprised.” Y/n nodded her head and put her small box down on the table before walking back to hers. 

In a minute she had gathered all her things and made her way back to Bucky, her backpack now sitting on the other seat. “You sure that I can sit here?” Bucky noticed her slight change in speech, a clear sign of further regression. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” He smiled, Y/n sitting down but still holding her colouring book to her chest, her back straight as a pin. “I’m glad you came over.” He says in hopes to reassure her he wants her here. “It’s nice to have a friend.” Y/n smiles at that, placing her book down, showing a half done colouring page. 

“I agree, bein’ lonely is sad.” She frowns. “Do you wanna colour with me?” Her tone is hopeful, looking at Bucky with a smile. 

“I’d love to.” He smiled back, pushing his coffee to the side and accepting the page Y/n tore out for him. The two of them colouring their respective pages in silence for an hour before Y/n sat up straight with the biggest smile Bucky had seen so far. 

“Done!” She practically yelled. Bucky had been done for a while now, adding his own doodles around the actual lines of the drawing. “Look.” She slides the book towards him, a coloured picture of a princess and her wildlife friends surrounding her staring back up at him. 

“This is really good, Bub.” Bucky coos, surprised at her ability to stay mainly in the lines of the original lines. 

“You can keep it.” She quickly squiggles something on the bottom, Bucky assuming it’s her form of a signature. 

“Thank y-” His words are cut off by the shrill of an alarm, Y/n digging her phone out of her backpack to turn it off, frowning as she places the phone on the table. 

“I have to go home now.” She frowns as she starts to pack up her bag, pausing to turn to Bucky. “Will you, can you.” She stumbles over her words. “Are you coming here tomorrow?” She eventually asks, her eyes avoiding Bucky’s. 

“Are you?” He counter asks. 

“Yes.” 

“Then I’ll be here tomorrow.” She smiles and finally looks at him. 

Y/n spends a few more minutes packing up her things before she stands. “Thank you Mr.” She holds her hand out for a handshake, Bucky’s back straightening as he realises he’ll have to shake her hand with his left. Instead of doing so he grabs her left hand with his right and shakes that one, her giggles worth the awkward situation. “Bye Mr.” She says, turning to leave, but Bucky keeps a hold of her hand. 

“Why don’t you keep these?” He says, pushing the box of crayons closer to her near the edge of the table. 

“Borrow them?” She asks. 

“No, I want you to keep them.” He nudges them her way a little more. “I think you’ll get much more use out of them than I ever would.” He smiles as he watches her’s grow bigger. Picking them up she does a little jump, her backpack jingling as she does. 

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She spins before whispering a ‘thank you’. 

Before Bucky could say goodbye, or ask for her phone number, she had already walked out of the building, walking down the sidewalk looking at the box of crayons in awe. The broken blue crayon still sat on the table, he smiled, picking it up and placing it in his pocket. The small thing a reminder of the best day he’s had in a long time. 

[sansundertale14x1]

why NauseAxe_404 loves your writing so much…

based on this silly tweet, I’m gonna use ‘Nick’ for this- for ease of writing (and for my poor poor hands.)

no pronouns but ‘you’- little post cuz I haven’t written in a while.- use of the in-game website: "Dumblr", no it's not a typo;-; Proshippers DNI

word count: 878

content warning: brief explanations of canon violence, creepy stalker-ish behavior (NOTHING SEXUAL ATTACHED), Nick being a weirdo honestly.

vvv that isn't my art, and this entire writing is a fanfic for a game " Monster x Mediator" made by HeadLocker! I really recommend playing the game or watching the gameplay, cuz it's really fantastic!

Story under cut :3

Nick’s in love with your writing…(if you already couldn’t tell), but it’s difficult for you to understand why.

Usually, when you'd open up your laptop, it was after a tough shift at your crap job and you just wanted to do something to fill in the time after dinner and before bed. It was always on the shorter side, 100 words each, and was normally just a quick and crappy self-insert fic to satisfy your creative urges from doing a boring-ass job all day. You never really thought your tiny one-shots would attract any attention, but the man you've been staying with proves otherwise.

"NauseAxe_404" is what he called himself, but you've just been calling him 'Nick' for now. He had been reading your old Dumblr blog for who knows how long, and he's taken a major interest in your little shitposts...So much, so that he had taken the time to print out every single one of your posts and personal information pinned to his room's walls. It's extremely creepy...but also sort of charming?

For the last few days or so, you've been held in Nick's hotel room, practically glued to a desk with a typewriter...slowly making your way through a 100-paged fic that he specifically requested of you. Though you technically could stand up and leave...you'd really prefer for your skull to stay in one piece...and not have a bullet put through your temple.

Nick has been staring at you almost the entire time...which only certified in your mind that he is not human. Every time you turn to see if he's still there...like an unmoving fortress, he always is. It's been a solid 8+ hours of you sitting there and writing...and your stomach starts to emit loud sounds of hunger. You pray he didn't hear that, and continue to type away at the dated machine. However, to your dismay, his deep voice chimes in.

"...What page are you on...?"

Nick asks, seemingly trying to speak quietly for you, but his naturally booming voice isn't giving you any favors.

"...uhm..."

You take a moment to review what you have done...it doesn't look like much but it feels like it took AGES to write out...

"About...10? It's not a-"

"That's wonderful, Superstar!"

He cuts you off just as you begin to speak.

Of course, he's going to be ecstatic. You can't fathom why he seems to be so hopelessly in love with whatever you slap on the paper. You're curious..so you begin to speak.

"...uhm...Nick...why do you..take interest in my writing?"

You softly speak, trying to be careful with your words...you can't afford to overstimulate this man.

For a chatty guy...Nick was oddly silent at the ask of this question…or at least for a few seconds.

“I was trying to find a way to ease the boredom and loneliness of this fucking hotel, so…huff…I joined Dumblr and started to search for writing…that was…huff….purposeful…and that could fix me..”

No way in hell your crackfics could change this man...He must've come out of the womb like that. (or...however the hell he was made..)

"...I came across your first post years ago..huff...and fell in love with the way you wrote your love interest....huff...I knew you were talking about me when I wrote all those comments~"

You never looked at comments due to embarrassment...and you honestly didn't think anyone would even care to comment in the first place.

"....you weren't responding to me...huff...so I might've found everything about you in the meantime...huff...just so I could notice you in a crowd...I always will~"

Okay, now it's getting creepy. You hope that by just turning back around and continuing to write maybe he'd shut up...You guess it's sorta your fault for striking up a conversation with the creep.

"All the other writers don't know shit about writing...huff...1k word counts...huff...long and complicated stories that don't make any fucking sense..."

There goes the rambles. You stop typing for a moment to process what the hell he just said. He either is really balls-deep into this fantasy of you being a perfect human...or he's just trying to fluff you up so you'll continue writing for him. He's really delusional, that's it. It's seriously hard to believe your crap was life-changing for Nick.

“Simplicity is the most important part…huff…not describing some stupid walk sequence for 3 sentences…huff…it’s a waste of space..”

"....maybe you just like simpler writing...?"

You softly reply, yet again praying that you didn't accidentally strike a chord with this guy. He stares you down, and even if you aren't looking back at him, you can still feel the burning of his eyes on the back of your head.

"That's possible."

Oh, it's highly probable. He gets so emotional over the tiniest bit of anything, so...He just doesn't need too many words to evoke a reaction...It checks out because you also like to write a straight-to-the-point sorta piece.

"but don't let your mind wander for...huff...too long...my superstar...you've got at least 90+ pages to go~"

Shit, he was right...time to get back to work.

[frodo-with-glasses]

Where have you been?

Uhhh, France?

(That’s a Hamilton reference, btw. I have never been to France.)

So! Another Hobbit Day is upon us. On this day last year, I’d promised you all that we would take another trek through LotR, with all new drawings and poems and fanfics. I fully expected to be finished with Book One by now, at least halfway through FotR. What actually happened is that the blog struggled through the first five and a half chapters of the book before suddenly going radio silent.

So what happened?

Well, as you might expect, real life happened. I won't go into the details here—since it has nothing to do with LotR—but I can explain in DMs if anyone is interested.

Basically, a change in my family led to a reexamination of what I thought I knew about my family, which led to a reexamination of what I thought I knew about myself, which kicked off an intense period of self-improvement.

Over the course of this past year, I began to unpack my family's abuse; I learned about boundaries; I started to unlearn my old people-pleasing tendencies; I reconnected relationships that were broken, reevaluated ones that were in the wrong place, and cut off ones that weren't good for me. I discovered there was a little kid in my head who's been waiting years and years for an adult to love her, and to take her needs seriously, and I finally have the chance to be that adult. And I'm happy to say that I've come to a place where I feel safer in my own head than I have ever been.

Probably very little of that is going to show through on this blog. It's all inward stuff; foundational stuff. But one thing that might affect you guys is that I left my (dreadfully overstimulating and stressful) part-time job, and I'm now working full time somewhere else. As much as I love what I do for a living now, working 40 hours a week does mean that I am become Boring Adult who does not have as much time for interneting. With my current schedule, there is no way I'd be able to sustain the intense schedule of "must post one drawing a day" that I had in the early days of this blog; and I don't expect myself to.

But! I would like to—slowly—get this train rolling again.

I find it hilariously apropos that the last piece of art I posted on this blog was of Frodo suddenly disappearing. From Merry's perspective, he completely vanished without explanation or warning. From your perspective, so did I.

But I find myself here again, on another September 22nd, and once again I'm beginning to feel that pull; that pull to read, and draw, and create, and share, and laugh with all of you. Life has calmed down enough for me that I once again have the mental space to think about pursuing my hobbies. There are so many things I want to do—so much to do with the time that is given to me. And I want this blog to be on that list.

My current goal is to post some new book art every other day. If that's too much, I'll adjust it. But if I find my groove and really get into it, who knows? We might return to your regularly scheduled Daily Dose of Frodo-With-Glasses. We shall have to see.

Anyway. If you've read this far, thank you! If you've stuck with this blog since the early days, thank you. And if you are one of that lovely core Fellowship that has had my back and prayed for me all along, I cannot thank you enough.

This past year has been an absolute ride. Not as difficult as a trek to Mordor, maybe, but not easy either. But no matter where I walked, I knew I didn't have to take the journey alone.

Anyway! Enough sappiness. Happy Hobbit Day! I'm excited to see what the next year has in store for us. 💚

[rangerelizabeth]

“I’m fine. This just happens sometimes. It’s normal for me.”

Hey! I just saw your prompt post and this one reminded me so bad of like something Gale totally had thought was normal (be it like a childhood trauma result or smth) and then John just going “uhhh… no.”

Love your blog btw !

Hi anon! Thanks so much for the ask and for saying you love my blog! @joeyalohadream requested the same prompt (tysm for the ask as well!!) and I had this almost completely finished before I got yours. I'm glad we had the same idea! This is set a couple of weeks after Gale and John first meet as flying cadets at Randolph Field, TX.

Prompt: "I'm fine. This just happens sometimes. It's normal for me."

Word count: 1081

Despite the sun having already dipped behind the horizon, the darkness does nothing to relieve the sweltering heat of the Texas summer as their small group makes the short walk to the bar off-base. With the day off tomorrow, Bucky had managed to convince several of the men to accompany him in letting loose tonight.

Most impressively, Bucky had managed to convince his straight-laced, new roommate Gale Cleven, or Buck, as Bucky had taken to calling him. The minute Bucky had laid eyes on the gorgeous, golden wonder that was Gale Cleven, he knew he had to stake his claim before it was too late. And so, he’d slung an arm around his shoulders and fumbled out some story about Gale looking just like “his old friend Buck, from Manitowoc, Wisconsin.” 

As it turned out, not only was Gale the most beautiful person he’d ever laid eyes on, he was also a damn good pilot, surprisingly shy for his looks and skill, and somehow impenetrable to any of the vices that regular people fall victim to. He doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t dance. And yet, here he is, braving the stifling Texas heat with the rest of them only to inevitably stay seated quietly for the evening, likely nursing a ginger beer.

It had taken surprisingly little pleading from Bucky to get him to agree to come. While they’ve only known each other for the couple of weeks they’ve been flying cadets, their status as roommates means that they’ve been living out of each other's pockets for that time, and Bucky already knows he’s found a best friend for life in Gale.

He can be happy with that—a best friend—despite the way his heart pounds in his chest everytime he so much as looks at Gale. He knows he has to be happy with that, unless he wants a one way blue ticket home before he barely even gets started. Yet, he can’t help but wonder if Gale would have still agreed to come out tonight if anyone other than Bucky had been asking.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Bucky realizes they’ve reached their destination. After ordering their first round of drinks—several whiskeys, and, as Bucky predicted, a ginger beer for Gale—the men scatter around the bar. 

Bucky stays with Gale for a while, chatting aimlessly about everything and nothing, before deciding it’s time to take to the dance floor. Despite Bucky’s best efforts, Gale refuses to join him. Bucky figures he ought to cut his losses and just be grateful that Gale came out with them at all, so he leaves him be. He finds a beautiful blonde to dance with who looks a little too much like Gale to be a coincidence, and they have fun together for a few songs before Bucky finds himself longing to get back to his friend.

He slides into the booth next to Gale, knocking his shoulder against his friend’s. Two other guys from their program sit on the other side of Gale, but they’re engaged in some sort of animated debate and seemingly don’t notice Bucky’s approach.

“You having fun?” Bucky asks.

Gale shrugs. “I reckon you’re having enough fun for the both of us,” he says teasingly, a small smile gracing his lips.

Bucky opens his mouth to respond, but he’s cut off by the sound of a glass shattering across the bar. Some idiot must’ve dropped their drink, he thinks, not yet noticing the way Gale is tensed beside him. But then, the man on Gale’s other side tosses his hands up in the air in whatever conversation they’re having, and Gale flinches hard. 

“Hey, you okay?” Bucky questions worriedly, trying to catch Gale’s eyes. When he looks into them, they’re glassy and despondent. Bucky notices the way Gale’s breaths are coming shallower, his hands shaking where they rest on the table. “Buck?” Bucky tries again, with no luck. 

“Okay,” Bucky breathes out, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, come on.” Slowly, so as not to startle him further, he wraps an arm around Gale’s shoulders and encourages him out of the booth, guiding him outside into the fresh air. There, they sit on the curb of the sidewalk, Gale seemingly still lost in his head, if his unsteady breathing and faraway gaze are anything to go by. Bucky strokes a hand gently up and down his back and waits. 

Finally, Gale lets out a shaky exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly before speaking. He doesn’t look Bucky in the eyes, instead keeping his gaze fixed on the street in front of them. “Sorry about that.” 

Bucky drops his hand from Gale’s back, not wanting to push his luck. “No, don’t apologize,” he says, shaking his head. “What was that about?”

“I’m fine. This just happens sometimes. It’s normal for me,” Gale responds casually, brushing off Bucky’s concerns. “We can go back in, if you want.”

Bucky stares at him incredulously. Not two minutes ago, Gale had been shaking and unresponsive despite Bucky’s best efforts, and now he’s suggesting they go back into the bar like nothing happened? “Do you want to go back in?”

Gale looks sheepish. “Well, no, not really. But I don’t want to ruin your guys’ night.”

“You’re not ruining anything. You’re the one I wanted to hang out with anyways,” Bucky says, trying to ignore the faint blush rising on Gale’s cheeks at his admission. Though it makes Bucky’s heart flutter with hope, now is clearly not the time to dwell on it. “Seriously, though, are you alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just… My dad liked to drink,” Gale starts hesitantly, wringing his hands in his lap. “And when he drank he got mean. Violent. Sometimes, things remind me of it, I guess.”

Bucky’s stomach drops at the implication in Gale’s words. The thought of anyone, especially Gale’s own father, intentionally hurting the kind, thoughtful man in front of him is enough to have him seeing red. Gale’s father better hope Bucky never crosses paths with him or he’ll have another thing coming. But, for now, Gale needs him, so Bucky pushes his anger down.

“C’mon, let's get you back to the bunks,” Bucky says softly, standing and offering a hand to Gale to help him up. Gale takes it, allowing Bucky to pull him up from the curb.

And if they stay there a little longer than necessary before letting go to start their walk back to base, well, that’s no one’s business but theirs.

[bekolxeram]

So... I said I couldn't wait for the plane disaster arc to be over, and I still stand by that statement. If you read my blog regularly, you'd know I loved it, the more plane stuff the merrier, but at the same time, it was a huge relief for me to finally be able to move on.

Warning: long rant incoming

I joined this fandom last season because of my love for BuckTommy and aviation, I've made it clear many times before. I saw comments downplaying Tommy's role in the cruise ship rescue, and I thought, well I know a thing or two about how hard flying is, especially flying a helicopter, so maybe I should write something about it.

Fast forward to last month, someone asked me whether Tommy could fly a plane realistically, so I answered it as they asked, realistically no. I can imagine him flying a light plane as a hobby, but never a four engine turboprop military plane that takes 5-12 crew members to fly, or an airliner that's basically a flying computer. I wasn't even aware of the Airport 1975 pilot transfer theory at first, so imagine my shock when I woke up to multiple posts naming my theory by name, (yeah, I said the water bomber in 2x14 belonged to CAL FIRE, I made my first post about this a long time ago, and I don't think anyone from the other side even made the effort to dig this deep, so those posts were referring to me) each with 400+ notes, and many reblogs by people I'd been following, telling me to shut the fuck up. It wasn't even aware that my aviation hc would be anything close to controversial, it deeply upset me and it fundamentally changed my interaction with the fandom as a whole.

I tried putting my more aviation focused posts under a specific tag that people can block if they're not interested, still, like clockwork, some posts popped up in the main ship tag around 6 hours later, digging up old interviews from Tim saying "Tommy did the water drop, just off screen" or expressing their disbelief that there were still people out there who thought Tommy didn't fly the air tanker.

I wanted to explain my reasoning, but I knew it would come across as needlessly confrontational, so I kept my mouth shut. I saw the pilot transfer theory gaining traction, I knew it was too crazy and too expensive for the show to pull off, but I kept my mouth shut. I even leaned into that theory at one point saying Tommy could be flying the helicopter in that stunt, but still the theory was hyped up more and more and its supporters were gradually getting more annoyed by me. I knew I would feel bad whether Tommy rappel into that cockpit or not, because on one hand, I hate that film with a burning passion, on the other, I basically stood back and watched everyone got their hopes way up then witnessed them getting crushed in real time.

Now Schrödinger's cat box is opened, without Tommy in it, I guess there's no need for me to self censor anymore. So here are some stuff I was too afraid to post when people were still deeply invested in their theory, before we all move on from this disaster arc.

The writers don't care about timeline, they can't even get when Tommy transferred out of the 118 right

Tommy supposedly left the 118 right before Buck joined, so 7 years ago, but in 7x09 Tommy said he joined Harbor 5 years ago. My very first post on this site is about this timeline conflict. My explanation was that it takes some years of training before you can even touch a helicopter at Air Ops (in real life LAFD sends you to LAPD for basic training), so Tommy probably only officially transferred to Harbor 5 years ago.

That led to a lot of comments saying the writers just didn't give a damn, they didn't care to google or get their story right, just accept it. But you don't even need to google. The description Tommy gave Buck in the Harbor tour scene was lifted straight from the LAFD Air Ops website, and you know what? If you scroll a little bit further down, you can clearly see the "at least two years of LAFD AIr Operations training line". It takes less than 5 minutes to read it all through.

Tim said Tommy did the water drop, so it's canon he flew that plane in 2x14

Someone pulled out Tim's interview specifically to disprove my CAL FIRE hc. Yeah, he did say Tommy did the water drop:

But I've never heard anyone from the show said Tommy was literally grabbing the yoke, pulling the thrust levers, flying the plane. A C-130 (or L-100 as the civilian variant) is not a single engine water scooper, it's a four engine monstrosity.

The heavier the plane, the faster it has to fly for the wings the generate enough lift to keep it in the sky, right? Well, in order to drop water/fire retardant in an accurate and effective fashion, the C-130 has to fly low and slow enough that the flight crew has to get used to hearing the "terrain! terrain! pull up!" and "stall! stall!" warnings at all time during a mission.

In fact, the C-130 water tanker usually flies behind a lead plane, most of the time a lighter business jet that surveys the area and plots the optimal route for the water drop. It fires a line of smoke to mark out the designated location for the payload, the C-130 behind it just has to release the water/fire retardant once the nose of the plane hit the trail of smoke.

That coordination is extremely cool.

The C-130 takes at the very least 3 crew members to fly: 2 pilots and a flight engineer, no fly-by-wire on this one, but it usually takes even more for a safer more accurate operation.

I can absolutely picture Tommy being one of the people sitting behind the pilots in 2x14. They didn't have a lead plane, so maybe the CAL FIRE guys asked him to pull his weight, since he was the one who asked for the favor and he was also an aerial firefighter, they needed an extra pair of professional eyes anyway. So technically he did the water drop, but he flew no plane that day. (I have a fully developed backstory in my head about Tommy's involvement in that episode, but unfortunately I'm not a good writer, and it'll probably piss people off more than it entertains them. It's about a clandestine mission à la 7x03 and Tommy's meet cute with his ex boyfriend)

If you've made it this far, you probably really like my blog or aviation stuff, and I think you for your support. At one point, I told myself I would leave the fandom behind if I saw one more post telling me to shut up, I got so closed to it. Now, reading post after post saying leaving the newly reintroduced pilot character out of the show's plane disaster arc is a missed opportunity just makes me, I don't know, kind of sad? I've always thought he's just a helicopter pilot, he wouldn't be much help in guiding the crippled jet down anyway, that I was right, but then what? It doesn't feel good to be right this time. I can accept not seeing Tommy working with the 118 on the ground, I can be patient and wait for a week longer for his presence, but accidentally annoying people with what I thought was fun trivia, watching hundreds of them clown on me for taking the show too seriously, for being a nitpicker, for being too obsessive, I don't think I can ever erase it from my mind.

Let's just hope we can all move on (mostly on my part), and I can return to making bad quality humorous gifs about our boys. I'll still post stuff about aviation, now that it's less controversial. If you're a brave soul you can go search for the tag I created for others to block (#aviation realism).

[all-wrung-out]

Whumpblr Intro

Hey! I've gone far too long without actually making an intro, despite having this side blog up for a bit. So here we go!

I go by Tac when I'm interacting online (my main blog is calligraphic-tac, and that's my chaos-corner where I try to post things I like, things that inspire me, and my more general writing, when I can actually get words out). Pronouns are she/her, although they/them are good backups.

I've been into whump for as long as I can remember, but in my 33 years on the planet, I only learned last year that there's a whole community for it. I'd heard the term "whump" before, and kind of knew what it was, but never made the connection to the type of media I like.

There are some whump tropes that I'll always enjoy, but the favorite flavor of the week is usually on rotation from the following list:

Superhero whump

Kidnapping

Defiant/Stoic/Strong/Snarky Whumpees

Self-sacrificial Whumpee

Pushing oneself until collapse (especially for Heroes/Leaders)

Whumpers who feign rage, but are actually very calculated and careful in their treatment of Whumpee

Whumpers who actually lose their temper, especially when triggered by a defiant whumpee

Team whump

Non-human Whumpee (especially when it pertains to the good, old-fashioned "what makes us human" trope)

Drug/poison whump (Fucked up balance and altered perception, anyone?)

Medical whump (specifically, medical treatment, but "This is gonna hurt.")

Lab whump (especially testing the limits of a living weapon or attempting to forcibly manifest powers that may or may not exist)

The good, old-fashioned Beating trope

Pinned/Trapped

Drowning/asphyxiation

Environmental/Wilderness whump (extreme temperatures and survival)

Animal attacks

Used as bait

Infected wounds (especially when it comes to treatment of said wounds)

Self-surgery or self-care

Mind control (Specifically, conflict between Whumper/Whumpee within Whumpee's mind while Whumper tries to take control. OH! And Whumper causing Whumpee to experience things that didn't happen; I have a really neat story idea for this one!)

I'm sure I'm missing some, but I suppose I can amend this post when I remember some more. Some of my whump tastes are also kind of specific, so listing them concisely can be a challenge.

Not going to list my squicks here. (As the saying goes: "If you don't want someone to get your goat, don't let them know where it's tied.") However, if you're looking for NSFW-type whump, I don't typically write that. (Not for other folks, anyway; I'm rather terrible at it.)

I used to write a lot as a kid, but was often ashamed of my affinity for whump, so any time I tried to write it, I chickened out and wrote something else. I still wrote plenty of action and peril, but the whump was usually not as heavy as I initially imagined.

I've also been in a bit of a writing slump for... oh, goodness... It's going on 14 years now. I really want to get out of it, so I'm hoping whump writing will help.

Fun fact about me: A lot of my stories are grown from a kernel of whump. I think of a specific scenario I want to put an OC through, and then a whole story grows out of it.

Some of my favorite whump blogs include: @whump-me @whumperofworlds @allthewhumpygoodness @emmithar-blog @soheavyaburden @whumperfultime @roblingoblin285 @blackrosesandwhump @evilwriter-originals I'm still collecting whump blogs to follow, so feel free to interact if you're one such blog!

Also, I'm going to be rusty as hell, so please bear with me while I get my writing brain reinstalled in the ol' skull-housing.

Last thing (I know this post is long already): I've seen the way the whump community interacts and I'm happy to be a part of it. I'm not especially social myself, but I'm nonetheless proud to be part of such an amazing group of folks. Keep rockin', y'all!

[finalresidentevilfantasy]

Never Be Enough.

Warnings: Cheating, angst, female reader and use of Y/N.

Summary: Leon's cheating but she knew deep down she could never compete with Ada.

A/N: Hi guys! I'm back with another post! This was taken and adapted from my old blog! I hope you all enjoy!

W/C: 2.2K

She knew deep down that this was always going to happen, she knew that he would never fully belong to her. She wished she could make him happy but she never could, not fully. She wanted so much to hate Ada she really did but she just couldn't, it wasn't her fault Leon didn't love her with everything he had, nor was it his. Unfortunately everyone knew before she did.

“Y/N, we need to talk.” Claire said as Y/N answered the door, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“About?” She asked the question but could bet she knew the answer, Leon had barely been home, working late, the usual behaviour.

“Leon.” Claire sighed and watched as the gears turned in Y/N's head, this wasn't going to shock her and Claire wanted nothing more than to comfort her but she wasn't sure Y/N would ever speak to her again after this.

“What about him?” She bit her lip, she knew and Claire's heart broke in two as she looked at the defeated look on her face, but she carried on anyway, she needed to hear this.

“Listen, I’m so sorry I have to be the one to tell you this, I wish I didn’t.” She sighed. “Leon's been cheating on you, with Ada.” She whispered out and she hoped maybe Y/N wouldn’t have heard, maybe she could forget she ever came here and was the one to break her heart. No such luck, she’d heard.

“I thought so.” She sighed in defeat, eyes finding the floor, Claire felt her heart break as she watched Y/N swallow back tears and keep herself composed.

“I’m so sorry. It started a couple of months ago.” Claire felt her own tears.

“Did everyone know?” She asked and it was so quiet and the heartbreak was so evident that Claire felt her tears fall, she didn’t want to answer this question.

“I’m so sorry, we found out last month. Y/N, I wanted to tell you, I did but he said he was going to and then kept coming up with excuses as to why he hadn't yet.” Claire rambled as she watched Y/N slowly nod as tears made their way down her cheeks.

Y/N had this look about her that was enough to break anyone’s heart, she realised in this moment that the person she could rely on the most, run to for any problem was the cause of her pain. She sniffled as she looked at Claire and sighed, composing herself slightly.

“Thank you for telling me, I think. Well thank you for growing a conscience after a month. I think you should go.” She wasn’t angry, she was hurt. She had no one left she could seek comfort in. Claire nodded.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I wanted to tell you, I really did but I couldn’t, you were so happy and no one wanted to hurt you. I will still be here if you need anything.” Claire said with a sad smile as she left and heard as her door slammed shut.

Y/N broke down, she cried for hours. The pain in her heart was unbearable, she loved Leon more than she could ever put into words, he was her everything. How does she come back from this? Could she forgive him? Pretend she'd never been told so she could keep him that bit longer? She couldn't, no matter how much her heart wanted to her head couldn't follow.

She felt like she’d been stabbed in the back by every single person she’d put her trust into. She knew this was it, when Leon eventually came home that it was the last time she’d see him before she left the house for good. It would be the last time she saw any of them again, she couldn't move past the betrayal of everyone knowing and no one telling her, how they must've all been mocking her behind her back. Even though deep down she knew, she'd hoped her friends would tell her, then again, who was she kidding? They were all Leon's friends first. Of course their loyalties would lie with him, it was unfair of her to expect anything else.

She cried and screamed into her pillow as she wrapped herself in her duvet, she was so heartbroken that she didn’t have it in her to fight tonight and she hoped sleep would take over before Leon came home and she could deal with this tomorrow. But of course the real world was cruel and tended to step on those who were already down. She heard the front door shut and she cried harder, he'd come home early for once, she was going to have to face him and she didn’t want to.

She didn’t want to face him right now, she couldn't, she wanted to sleep and she wanted to deal with the further heartbreak tomorrow, her heart couldn’t take anymore pain today. Of course he heard her, heard her cries of heartbreak and she wondered for a moment if he knew why, but he had no idea, he’d gotten away with it for so long he must've stopped worrying, probably stopped caring if it hurt her in the end.

She heard as his feet rapidly made their way up the stairs and she wanted to hide, wanted to curl up into a ball underneath the bed and just hide from the world. She’d given him so much, she’d done everything for him, been as supportive as she could, worked for months to get him sober, help him through his traumas. She was there through every nightmare, every relapse and it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t enough yet tried so hard to be, but she could never be Ada Wong, no matter how hard she tried and the worst part is that it wasn't his fault he's in love with her, no one can help how they feel. But she wished he'd have just ended things, never let her fall harder for him than she already had.

She heard the bedroom door open and she curled further into herself, she would allow herself to show him how much he’d ripped her heart out, she wanted him to see how open and vulnerable this had left her so that tomorrow morning when she finally confronted him, maybe he’d care, maybe he'd put her first for once.

“Fuck, sweetheart are you okay?” He sounded worried. He was a good actor though, he’d strung her along for months. He made his way around to her side of the bed and crouched down next to her, she stuffed her face further into her pillow as he smoothed out her hair. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? What happened?” He sounded like he cared but he didn’t, he can’t have cared otherwise he wouldn’t have done this.

She couldn’t answer, she just cried harder, because she wondered if he loved her at all, if he felt anything or if she was just someone to warm his bed at night, someone to help fill the void Ada had clearly left behind all those years ago. The more serious they got the more she thought that maybe she'd wormed her way into Leon's heart, taken Ada's place but instead she felt stupid and naïve.

“Baby are you gonna tell me what’s happened?” He asked as he moved so he was behind you on the bed and she shook her head, she was lost in there right now. He pulled her back against his chest and tried to soothe her. Every sweet nothing he whispered felt like it was killing her in the slowest way possible, it had the opposite effect it usually would.

At some point she'd fallen asleep, he’d asked countless times what had happened and she’d cried until there were no tears left, until exhaustion had completely consumed her and she allowed herself one last night in his embrace.

Of course the little sleep she’d had was horrendous, she still felt tired when she woke the next morning.

She pulled herself from Leon's grasp and made her way downstairs as she looked at her phone.

Claire: I’m so sorry Y/N. Please let me know you’re okay.

Chris: Claire told me she told you. I’m sorry, I’m here if you need anything.

She was aware she looked like shit, aware that it wasn’t over yet, she’d cried her heart out until it was dry and now she was about to take the final step and rip it in half.

The world really was a cruel place, she wanted to think about how she was going to approach Leon but she was robbed of that as well as everything else as he entered the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

“Can we talk about last night baby? Are you okay?” Leon said as he eyed his girlfriend carefully and she felt her anger rise to a level that she'd not experienced in quite some time. How dare he.

“Don't ‘baby’ me. I don’t want to hear a single fucking pet name out of your lying mouth ever again.” She gritted out at him and he looked taken aback, truly taken aback at her anger.

“What’s wrong?” He asked cautiously, she could see the gears turning in his head as his panic rose, he knew she knew. He visibly gulped.

“How’s Ada?” She seethed and he swallowed hard as he looked at her. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone look more heartbroken and angry at the same time, it frightened him a little.

“Y/N, I love you, okay. It was a mistake.” He tried calmy and she flared her nostrils as she felt her anger boil over. She found it easier to focus on the anger, the heartache had been too much.

“Bullshit, you don’t fucking love me, let’s get that straight. A mistake? No Leon, a mistake is forgetting to pick up milk not sleep with your," She thought for a second ex? She wouldn't know what to call Ada. "well whatever she is to you." She shouted and he hung his head.

“Y/N, please. We ran into each other on my last mission, tensions were high and I don’t know it just happened. I don’t love her, I love you.” He suddenly looked at her frantically, trying to step towards her but for every one step he took she took two back.

“I don’t really want to hear it Leon. It happened because tensions were high? You carried on for months afterwards.” She snapped and he felt his tears leave his eyes. The truth was he didn’t love her, he really did love Y/N, he couldn't explain his actions, he had poor judgement when it came to Ada, but they both knew that. He has no real excuses for what happened, the sneaking around was fun he supposed, maybe he’d not fully thought about what this would do to her. But he could see it now, he saw it last night as his own heart broke watching her break down in a way he’d never witnessed before and he caused it.

“I’m sorry. Please can we talk this through?” He asked as he tried to step closer as she took a step back.

“Talk? There’s nothing to talk about. You cheated on me and I don’t forgive that, there’s nothing to save between us.” She said and she felt the anger wash away as she said the words, this was it. A two and a half year relationship gone with the click of some fingers, the man she loved was now a stranger stood in front of her. She felt the tears again and when she looked up at Leon he was already crying.

“I’m sorry, I love you, I really do. She means nothing to me.” Leon said desperately as he watched her make her way towards the door. “Please don’t leave, stay and we can talk this out.” He pleaded and she sniffled as she turned around to look at him.

“Leon, hearing that she means nothing to you is worse. It confirms the fact that I wasn’t enough, I made you bored, or I didn’t love you with enough of me to make you feel complete and that hurts worse. At least if you were in love with her I’d understand better why you carried on betraying me, but I don’t. But it's all a lie Leon, I know she still means something to you, please don't insult my intelligence by suggesting otherwise. I really really wished I could've been enough for you Leon, I really do, but I'm not and I can't give you anymore of myself trying." She smiled sadly as she opened the door to leave. “Do what you want with my stuff, I don’t want any of it.” She made sure to slam the door on her way out.

[paintednailsandsoftdetails]

911, a confession

Let me start by saying that I don't really know what I'm doing here, so bear with me. If I actually go through with posting this, and you find yourself tagged and wondering who I am and why, or even if you happen upon it in the tags, I hope you take a minute to read this.

You don't know me, but you've been my community for a while now. I've checked your blogs daily for years, I've read your posts and loved your art and sent you countless anonymous asks to pick your brains- never hate though, because I'm not a Freak.

What I am, however, is a lonely lesbian with depression and (newly diagnosed) OCD, who has always needed some hyperfixation media/fandom to find life bearable. For some ~fun context, I was Raised by the glee fandom, I will die on the hill that watching queer as folk when I was 14 and discovering its fans 10+ years after airing made me who I am, I've got the most bizarrely timed stint in the 1D fandom under my belt, and I find nothing in the world more interesting and also affirming than Queer Reading (verb) media- to the extent that I earned an English degree and wrote a thesis specifically about it.

I haven't posted on here in 1.5 years, since I fell out of my previous fandom (apologies to anyone from said fandom who still happens to follow me and is seeing this, feel free to move along.) But I've been on this app every day since, because of 911.

(starting the read more here to spare you- again especially if you are tagged, I know you're probably feeling miserable rn but I do hope the entirety of this love letter reaches you)

I started "watching" mid season 5- by which I mean I was in a deep depressive state after disconnecting with previous media hyperfixation and, when I happened upon 911 trending while in need of distraction, I quickly fell down a rabbit hole. Tale as old as time, tumblr dot com convinces you that you need to tune into *insert media here* bc its fun and there are gay people! I caught myself up through all the big blogs and by the time May Day was airing I felt like I had a decent grasp on all the lore, all the fandom drama, all the places the writers were "definitely, so brilliantly" going to be taking the show that we had to look forward to, all without ever having actually seen an episode of the show (before you boo me, yes I've watched it by now, even season 1)

But I think it is important, and also a little messed up, that I fell in love with 911 through YOU, through the fans. Obviously watching the show initially through the lens of fan reactions first and not whats actually happening on screen can have some... interesting results. We've heard it all before, with the people who started watching specifically for Buddie around season 4/5 because they saw The Will and by the time they caught themselves up and watched the end of season 6 they wanted their refunds.

Here is where I want to make a clarification- the reason I got so interested, why I started coming back every day to check in on tags and certain favorite blogs I didn't even follow bc I was denying the want to become fully Involved, was because I fell in love with Evan Buckley. I won't lie, it was Buddie that caught my attention first- of course, thats what everyone here was talking about- and as much as I quickly started discover the value of the show outside of them (Henren my absolute Beloveds!!!!! Captain Dad Bobby Nash you are so special to ME. Chimney man of all time i can keep going) none of it was enough initially to bite the bullet and catch up on 5 seasons worth of a show I also knew would have elements I WASNT interested in (Copaganda and Taylor Kelly I am looking at you.)

But then I started really getting into fan's readings of Buck *insert footage of me learning the Buck Begins of it all for the first time* as a character separate from Eddie (as much as people were capable of anyway, and I will say some of yall continue to be absolutely atrocious at it) and I knew I was done for. Buck, this character so full of goodness, and his need to be Found but to also Find his own family and purpose and sense of self, for whom the show's thesis statement concerns the act of working to Make the kind of Love you want to have in this world, even if you were raised without a blueprint for it- I'm sorry but what else were me and my gay ass queer reading inclined hyperfixated brain to do other than take Evan Buckley into the folds and never let him go?

I love Buck. I was convinced by the time the s5 finale was airing before I had actually watched the show that Buck had to be bi. Even if they never did a thing with it you couldn't convince me otherwise and I was also confident that Oliver was portraying him with a similar mindset. I never wavered in that interpretation, even when the utter disappointment of the s6 finale and the failure to do anything truly meaningful character development wise through the lightning strike-Natalia speed run hit, and certainly not as I got fully caught up actually watching the show outside of tumblr live reactions during episode airings. I'll admit I was pretty ready to Check Out after the end of season 6, to the point where I hardly checked in on fandom at all going into 7 until the rumblings of possible canon Bi Buck reached me and I doubled back like "hold on, for real this time?" But when I say Check Out, I mean I was ready to walk away from the hyperfixation with a joint lack of satisfaction with canon & firm conviction that Buck was queer.

Things with Eddie are a lil different- and I want to try and keep this bit brief bc this is ultimately a post about Buck and Bucktommy and I have no interest in unsettling those of you who may have a queer reading connection to Eddie as real as the one I feel for Buck, but unfortunately this conversation cannot exist separately from the Eddie/Buddie of it all- I personally don't think Eddie is queer. I don't really think I ever did, even when I was in the thick of it with falling for Buddie. I know me saying this would cause certain audience to pelt me with accusations of fetishizing Buck or treating Eddie as nothing more than a vehicle for Queer Buck via Buddie- false! I actually think Eddie is an incredibly fascinating character, a deeply compelling representation of grief and fatherhood and masculinity, and also a hilariously weird lil bitch guy. I just don't feel like- especially having removed fanon glasses while actually starting to watch the show, and taking the time to acknowledge that the things about Buddie that appealed to me on a romantic level (this is NOT about their friendship which i stand by being beautiful and important) all boiled down elements I was reading within and onto BUCK specifically, not Eddie. Perhaps an impossible concept for some, the idea that Bi Buck could feel so real and apparent to me primarily divorced from the idea that Eddie had to be queer as well, but I won't bore you with my explanations for it, though I suspect the people tagged and still reading by this point know exactly what I am talking about.

All of this potentially obnoxious prologue to say, I've spent the last however many months falling in love with canon Bi Buck *insert footage of me speed running back into my daily fandom involvement/blog check ins the moment I knew Buck kissed a man*, with Bucktommy, and with Bucktommy fans.

For a long while there I had resigned myself to an odd, though perhaps not as unique as I thought, reality of loving and fully believing in Queer Buck, not necessarily feeling the same about Eddie or Buddie, but also in full agreement with many that already 6 seasons in with literally nothing else having remotely worked, Buddie would be the only satisfying conclusion for Buck's love story. This is again not exactly how I felt about Eddie- but a big part of that for me is that I don't think Eddie's primarily story in 911 is a love story. He's the vessel for telling other important, beautiful stories about fatherhood and forgiveness and that is OKAY bc not every characters story is a love story!!! Evan Buckley's is though (Despite some very weird and confusing things mr stark has just said about his character that actively contradict what hes previously said and what audiences have been looking at and for this entire time, but I digress)

But then! By whatever happy accident we want to call it 911 had Tommy Kinard fall back into its lap as the solution to what felt like the impossible: They found the ONE way they could introduce a non Eddie Diaz love interest for Buck that COULD be satisfying for Bucks story. Someone with connections to the 118 and the shows history and potential for further development within main storylines as his job directly pertains to their plots. Someone with such compelling connections for interweaving these two characters that it got us- including the showrunner- talking about the Red String of Fate. That it got some of the beloved tumblr pals I had been watching for years, who NEVER would have believed they'd ever root for a Buck endgame that wasnt Buddie doing exactly that, and with joy, love, and conviction. Again I'll ask, what else were me and my Buck loving brain to do but take Bucktommy into the folds and never let go? (apparently I hadn't considered that there was apparently horrifying alternative- more on that next!)

As you all damn well know, falling in love with Bucktommy has not come without its trails. I have never seen things in fandom as vile as the things I've seen go down here. And as I mentioned before, I've been IN IT with yall for a while, even if you didnt know it. I was here, lurking, and I know this fandom has had its highlight reels of racism and misogyny and harassment (despite certain factions current batshit consensus that things were "never bad" before *gasp* a couple of people, some over the ancient age *double gasp* of 30 heard about bucktommy through tumblr the same damn way the 90% of you who havent been watching since season 1 heard about buddie and decided to invest)

What happened tonight made me cry, for about 40 minutes straight. And yeah, its been a devastating week for us all for a lot of reasons. On top of the ~national dread (I'm a lesbian in the US btw) today was my 7th out of 9 straight days of open to close shifts in a demanding retail/management position, and I have a head cold so maybe this was just a Breaking Point after a whole lotta shit.

But also, maybe, it was really fucking shitty to watch this play out. I've already seen countless people say it better than I could. Yeah, its a tv show. It's a fictional ship. But its also escapism, a spot of joy many of us were extra dependent on this week. It was something GOOD, queer representation and a love story on national tv days after a horrifying reality set in for queer people, and we are allowed to acknowledge how much losing that sucks just on a general level for a second...

Second over, now lets talk not on the general level. Lets talk about how I've watched real human beings get harassed, sent death threats, be told they are faking cancer and failing to properly grieve dead loved ones, I've watched deeply homphobic language be adopted and incorporated into everyday use despite constant correction and pleas from queer men to knock it the hell off, I've watched homophia as a whole run rampant and unchecked by big blogs, with some biphobia to boot, I've seen some images of horrific anti gay violence and historical trauma invoked as a way to make fun of others, I've seen lesbianism slandered and proffered as an excuse for such vile behavior in a disgusting erasure of the beautiful solidarity that has historically existed between gay men and lesbians in the face of homophobia, and yes, I've seen graphic descriptions of child rape via targeted fanfiction attacks.

Again, others have already said it better than I can: This isn't about Bucktommy. It's about the way that everyone who was Pulling for them as a couple, who DARED to *checks scribble on hand* enjoy a canon queer mlm couple featuring a character (or two) they've grown to care deeply for, has been subjected to all the above mentioned and more, and for...what. For. What.

In the name of a fanon couple that has not been legitimized by the writers in 7 years? of a fanon character interpretation of a canonically straight man (not just assumed straight, verbally assigned straight now on multiple occasions) that people cannot fathom perceiving this show, let alone liking these characters, without? For the version of this story that, if the writers REALLY wanted to happen could have happened so many fucking times by now- especially when the show was coming to what might have been its end in s6- and still hasn't? A version that has been dismissed multiple times by the writers cast crew and every other unfortunate individual who has been harassed repeatedly about it?

And I'm not here to say Buddie is inherently bad!!!! It brought me into this same as the rest of you. I don't even believe it would necessarily be a bad or wrong conclusion for either character or the show were it to eventually, finally happen!! But for the love of god, hear me when i say from the outsider pov of someone who has experience the show in the way I did first through fandom then stepping back to watch for real and now watching it with my mother who is a near Exact representation of the general audience of this show (experienced Procedural watcher, no idea about Buddie or fandom interpretation, had no sense of gay eddie to speak of, and is not shocked but pleasantly surprised by and endeared by Bi Buck) you are SEVERELY deluded if you think what happened tonight by breaking up Bucktommy "makes sense" to any audience outside of buddies who've been writing manifestos for years about how every single thing in this show is "carefully, intentionally, clearly" leading to Buddie canon. I swear to you the people at home do not fucking see it. The people at home saw Buck in a nice, developing relationship that finally seemed to be going somewhere real for him after discovering an important part of his identity late in life, and then they saw that relationship abruptly ended and Buck heartbroken, going to sit with his best, still straight, bud Eddie Diaz. The ONLY people this makes sense for are the people who I am afraid it seems may have legimately bullied this into happening.

And if that is the case? We are sooo far fucking past the point of no return here. There is no true satisfaction in a Buddie canon endgame here for anyone who's lived through the past half a year in this fandom unless you were a perpetrator of any of the horrific shit mentioned above. I mean that with my whole fucking chest. If, and i do think it is a Big Fucking Fat if, Buddie does happen, and you find yourself no qualms happy and satisfied with it as your well earned endgame, I hope you know how rotted you are. And while I'm at it, I hope some way some how you come to see that this was not the carefully crafted beautifully developed loved story of all time you were gods bravest soldier in waiting for. Its just what left after years of meandering storytelling and cyclical character "development" with a bow slapped on top at the last moment because the gift giver was afraid you might kill them if they presented less.

Anyway. I said a million words ago that this was a love letter, and I do mean that. As much as its also been an mental health exercise for me to write this all out. So,

@kinardbuckleys @bucksboobs @kirkaut @tevankinkley @userautumn @sunglassesmish @tommyscurls @ohithankyou @buckxtommy @princessfbi @bigfootsmom @firewasabeast

(And so many other people I'm surely forgetting, and the few artists and writters on other platforms I dared to venture to- maybe never opening twitter again after this xoxo)

Thank you. You don't know me, I never quite got over the anxiety of trying to re-enter a fandom space after a time away, or maybe some of the imposter syndrome or embarrassment I felt accidentally falling in love with this show and Buck by just watching you all talk about him before anything else. But for the last few months, some of you years, you've been my community, my escape. I've loved watching your brains and your hearts work to discuss and create, even amidst the absolute shittiest fandom behavior Ive ever seen. And I am as grateful for getting to experience it from a far as I am devastated at the thought of losing it, of not individually typing in all your blog names (I was too anxious to even FOLLOW you guys truly rip) to see what new content or spec or art or love you had to share about Buck / Bucktommy every day.

In another life- one where idk perhaps people were kinder or showrunners weren't bullied and actors weren't dropped last minute after months of torment and a satisfying canon queer love story for a character who genuinely needs it could just Be in peace- I would have loved to one day put on my big girl pants (aka saved Buck url) joined the fandom for real. To have directly talked to any of you in a way that wasnt... this.

I would have loved to love Bucktommy with you.

[boydepartment]

jake is the type of guy…

a/n: tbh……. i wrote this right after i posted the jay one. i am a HUGE jake stan if anyone reading this is new to my blog. i love my main man very much‼️

MASTERLIST

warnings- none just fluff

wc- 250-300

other members part-

jungwon heeseung jay jake sunghoon sunoo ni-ki

song- classic by mkto

jake is the type of guy who…

🦮runs away from you when he first sees you. if he sees an attractive person- he is sprinting away. jake would rather die than embarrass himself in front of you.

🦮 finds out through one of his coworkers that you thought he was cute. instantly, he is sprinting around seeking you out. when he does of course he gets shy again, he didn’t think approaching you through.

🦮 tries his best to act confident around you, but you can see through the facade. not that you minded, him being dorky added to you already liking him.

🦮 slowly starts to become more comfortable with making conversation with you. he was good at talking, not just calming his nerves around you. but jake gave it time and he eventually built up real confidence around you.

🦮 accidentally lets it slip that he wants to go out with you… like really bad… jake didn’t even know how he slipped up. but it happened! next thing he knew, he was going out on a date with you. and it went really well :)

🦮 even before dating he’d want you to put on the medicine for his sores on his mouth. the other members were stunned that him acting like that didn’t give you the ick or anything. you honestly were just happy to help.

🦮 treats you with respect everyday. jake never wants you to feel like you’re below him in any way, because you’re not. the relationship is 50/50, he never wants you to feel like you don’t have a say in something. the only time where it isn’t split equally, is if one of you is taking care of the other due to one of you being sick, or just having an off day.

🦮 absolutely loves when he can debate with you. jake loves that you both don’t have the same opinions on everything, he loves being able to discuss things on a variety of topics. he loves when you get passionate about the subject, jake loves seeing when you have a glint of spark in your eyes.

🦮 sometimes forgets things. if you change your coffee order abruptly, he will still sometimes order the old one. just give it 3-5 business days for his brain to catch up a bit breaking from routine.

💕🦮 jake is the type of guy who loves when you are your own person. he loves being able to hype you up with whatever you’re doing and he absolutely loves to show you off and talk about you.