#birthday and follower celebration

[munsonownsmyass]

Birthday and follower celebration

I just hit 550 followers, so that's amazing enough in itself (thanks to all of you lovely little beans that want to follow me ❤️), but I'm also turning 34 on the 3rd of February, so I wanted to make a little something 😁

And what better way to celebrate than with some games, asks and requests? The little celebration will run from today until February 12th. I hope you'll come celebrate with me. And feel free to send in as many asks/requests as you like 😁❤️

Fuck/Marry/Kill

Send me 3 characters and I'll tell you who I'd wanna fuck, marry and kill. If you'd rather switch kill our woth kiss, feel free to do so.

Would you rather

This one is kinda self explanatory 😆

Top 10

Want a top 10 of my favorite songs? Favorite blorbos? Or maybe food? Just send it in and I'll make a little top 10.

Moodboard

I might not be the greatest at making moodboards, but I love making them.

Hozier requests

I'm so lucky that I got Hozier tickets for my birthday. So I had this idea that you can send in a hozier song and a character, and I could make a little drabble.

Fic requests

I would love some requests. You want a continuation to something? Or want it from a different POV? Let me know.

Or you want something new? Please send an ask. I have some prompt lists here, but feel free to add your own idea, if you want something ❤️

Fluffy dialogue ◇ smutty one liners ◇ subtle love ◇ angry love confessions ◇ lovers in denial ◇ roommates to lovers ◇ late night talks ◇ more smutty one liners

Characters I write for: Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Quinn McKenna, Ryan Yellowstone, Matthias Helvar, Billy Russo, Marcus Pike, Tristan Thorn, Joel Miller.

Characters I'd love to write for: Benny Miller, Will Miller, Frankie Morales, Mr. McCarthy, Zach Wellison, Terrence Swaino, Evan 'Buck' Buckley.

Or if you want to challenge me with something new, you can always ask 😉

Tagging some of the lovely people I've met here. Thank you to you all: @e-dubbc11 @itwasthereaminuteago @theradioactivespidergwen @chvoswxtch @murdock-and-the-sea @mattmurdocksscars @boliv-jenta @wardenparker @lucy-sky @sio-ina-bottle @yarrystyleeza @darlingshane @anna-hawk @jvanilly @k-marzolf @hellspart-timer @danzer8705 @chellestrash @scorpio-marionette @iobsessoverfictionalmen @feelmyskinonyourskin @writerwoed @misspearly1 @toomanystoriessolittletime @bunnelbie @absurdthirst

[wigglebox]

Suptober - Day 4 | Birthday

[devils-dares]

hi lovely can i get a carmy x college reader where she comes to his for dinner when the dining hall food is bad 🥹🫶🏻

YES YOU CAN

he's grumbling, pouring over his notebook with a cigarette dangling from his lips. he can't get this one recipe right and it's pissing him the fuck off. he's so pissed, in fact, that he doesn't even hear the door unlock. he ends up throwing the notebook across the room, burying the heels of his palms in his eyesockets. suddenly, you feel really bad about coming here to bother him, trying to sneak back out.

"what're you doin' here, sugar?" he asks.

"was just leaving, i didn't wanna bother you." he sighs deeply, standing up from the floor. he walks over to you, taking your hands in his.

"what's going on?" you blink a few times, thinking about how stupid your disruption really is.

"the dining hall food is bad and i haven't really been eating much. came over here cause i was hungry and-"

"you wanted me to cook for ya, sugar?"

"yeah," you frown, "but you don't have to. you're stressed."

"and my girlfriend's hungry," he says, kissing your forehead. he squeezes your hands gently before pulling you into a hug, "what can i make for you?" as you think, he scoops you up and plops you on the counter, standing between your legs. he brushes your hair out of your face, smiling at you. the stress lines seem to melt away from his face the longer he looks at you.

“make me whatever you feel like making,” you say, smiling at him, “long as it’s warm, i don’t care, it’ll be yummy.”

“bear secret menu item?” you giggle at his words.

“you’re just saying that so you don’t have to admit to stealing syd’s ideas.”

“syd can butt the fuck out of my relationship.” he starts taking some ingredients out.

“nothing too elaborate, carm, just messy and warm.”

“are you hungry now or can you wait?”

“i can wait. i brought my bag, i’ve got some reading to do.” he nods. you slip off of the counter, grabbing your book and notes out of your bag while he starts to cook. the smells enter your nose while you study, and your stomach grumbles loudly.

“when was the last time you ate?”

“good food?” he laughs.

“any food, sugar.”

“i had… a cereal bar this morning.”

“that’s all?” you nod. he sighs.

“how about i make you dinner, and then get some stuff ready for leftovers?”

“please?” he laughs softly.

“‘course, princess.” he starts to chop up some veggies as you pull out your books and laptop. immediately, the stress of school comes back, and you find yourself rubbing at your forehead already. as you;’re getting into the nitty gritty of your notes from your lecture earlier today, you see a glass of wine get dropped off at the table.

“gotta relax more, sugar. all that stress is gonna take a toll on you.” you smile up at him, swirling the wine in your glass before taking a sip.

“you don’t like this one.” you say as he takes a sip as well, “you hate pinot.” he shrugs.

“pairs well with the food.”

“no it doesn’t.”

“no it doesn’t.” he nods, repeating what you said and agreeing. you smile as he turns around, taking a sip of his wine. you can see the sides of his neck tense up, and you imagine the scrunched up look on his face from the taste of the wine.

“carmy-”

“it’s good, yummy.” he says, taking another sip and fighting the sour look on his face.

“i love you.” you laugh. he grumbles and goes back to the kitchen to cook.

soon enough, you’ve got a steaming hot plate of food in front of you, and your laptop gets whisked away.

“eat, and then study if you need to, but you’re not touching this until your stomach is brimming with food. i’ve got seconds.”

“won’t you come eat with me?” you ask, a pout on your face. he tuts.

“yeah yeah.” he refills the wine glasses, his wine looking much darker than yours this go around.

“cab sauv? not the best pairing.”

“better than fucking pinot.”

[ingravinoveritas]

The thing about being the center of attention is that demanding attention is not the same thing as commanding attention, and some people still haven't learned the difference...

[yoonia]

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊

it's been a hard year so far for the most of us. some of us might be taking some time to wind down, others might be starting anew before the year ends. to spread some love and positivity this month, I want to celebrate my birthday month with you all! it's been quite a long while since I held anything special on my blog, so I'm going to use this moment to celebrate my birthday by giving back for all the love you've given me!

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖙 mini rules: my ask/inbox will be open from 10/10 to 10/20 for this mini celebration! please send an emoji according to the following rules and I'll give something to you in return! 💕

➛ 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰:

🖋️ ⇝ send me any character or pairing that I’ve written (you can choose from any fic listed on my masterlist) plus a headcanon, trope, kink, or au, and then I’ll create a mini visual moodboard with a mini blurb/ficlet to come with it!

➛ 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔰:

📜 ⇝ send me one of YOUR fics (open to all kpop groups and k-artists, send me the title and the links!), and in exchange you’ll receive a mini moodboard based on the vibes I get from the story or the fic summary! bonus point if you add a short paragraph promoting your story in the ask so my readers can see it too!

➛ 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔬𝔫𝔢:

📸 ⇝ send me your kpop bias or fave group, your core aesthetic or your favourite song, fave colour, and I’ll make a mini moodboard for you!

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖞 mini rules: these additional emojis can be added with your main ask — some of these will be posted at the end of the event once I have properly compiled everything!

💌 ⇝ send me a love letter of any kind, and I'll gift you one of the songs that I would listen to when I'm winding down for the night!

🎶 ⇝ what song/music are you currently listening to? send this together with the above ask or separately and I'll make us a birthday bash playlist!

📚 ⇝ is there a fic that’s been living rent-free in your head this year? Include it in your above ask or separately, and I will put together a fic rec list! bonus point if you add a short love letter for the author who wrote the fic or the fic itself so I can give a quick shoutout for them too!

💕 thank you so much for all the love and support that you have given me so far and for being present. it's been lovely to hangout with you all. your existence has made my time here worthwhile. all submitted requests will be posted gradually for the rest of the month!

xoxo, 𝕯𝖎𝖆

[bluepallilworld]

aw it's already march, may my favorite month start :D

[uncanny-tranny]

I love you smile lines and worry lines and grey and white hair and wrinkles and purple spiderweb veins and the process of aging and living in a body that is standing the test of times. I love you experiences that make you wiser and stories that make you laugh, and every little process that happens to get to the point where you have so many memories because you have the fortune to be here and be so radiant

[ro-sham-no]

Sam’s wall breaks, and he won’t stop screaming.

it's his birthday so you KNOW i had to whump my boy

It’s been two days and fifteen hours and Sam won’t stop screaming. 

Blood droplets fly out of his mouth with wracking coughs as he chokes on hurried inhales, mucosal spit gumming up his trachea.

It’s been two days and sixteen hours and Sam won’t stop screaming.

The only times he’s been silent in the last two days and seventeen hours is when he’s unconscious. The first bout - four hours and twenty-three minutes of silence - Dean’d just clocked him in the jaw when it was clear Sam was going to scream himself into involuntary suffocation - diaphragm and abdominal muscles locking up from the abuse. Dean knocked him unconscious for those four hours and twenty-three minutes, after six hours of his weeping and gnashing of teeth.

By the time he had woken up, Dean had shots of sedative and they were two hours into a twenty-eight-hour drive to Bobby’s - if nothing else, Dean’s efficient. Sam didn’t take notice.

And if the sounds he won’t stop making can be described as screaming, then the sounds he makes when Dean has to touch him while he’s awake can only be described as a death wail. Wailing and scrambling to get away from Dean with a fervor that earns them both violent shades of bruises.

It’s been two days and twenty hours and Sam won’t stop screaming.

During the drive, whenever Sam’s anguish would escalate back into hair-tearing, along with beating his fists against his arms and thighs and threatening to bash his head into the windows of the Impala, Dean would pull over to force another dose of sedative into him. 

The sounds he makes while Dean tries to subdue him… Well, even in the most remote location on their route, Dean was afraid the farmer whose house they could just barely see in the distance would be able to hear. It had to have been at least three miles away, with how flat the land was, and Dean was still worried that someone would hear. 

Sam won’t stop screaming, and his screams are deafening- except when he’s unconscious, from the shots Dean gives him, the screaming is just in Dean’s mind. A haunting kind of tinnitus that rings in Dean’s ears, just as nauseating as the real deal, but a touch less heartbreaking.

He only allows himself to sleep for the first few hours of Sam being down for the count, despite the catatonic state that seemed to have taken over him. Dean wasn’t about to risk Sam waking up without him. They sleep together in the car, in the weeds and the bramble off of back roads, hidden from view. Baby’s paint has never been so scratched up.

It’s been two days and twenty-three hours and Sam won’t stop screaming.

They’ve been at Bobby’s for the last twenty-four of those, trying to hold back on the sedative, because god knows they can’t keep it up forever or Sam’s heart is liable to just straight up quit, so they’ve been rationing it. Walking the nerve-wracking line between acceptable amounts of incomprehensible human suffering and causing an overdose that could just kill Sam, for good this time.

On the 72nd hour - that’s two days and twenty-four hours, or three days and zero hours, or 4,230 minutes and zero seconds, or 259,200 seconds and -

It’s been three days and zero hours, and Sam is awake, but he stops screaming.

And on the third day he will be raised…

Dean rushes over to check on him, but Sam is still breathing, heart still beating, body still holding itself upright, and he’s stopped screaming.

Now, though, two lines of salty tears trail down his face. For all his hysteric shrieking over the last three days, through all the rocking and swaying and the occasional distinct syllable of “no” over and over again, he hadn’t actually shed a tear, until now.

It’s been three days and zero hours and Sam’s tears are silent. 

He’s staring far off into the distance - into the wall that’s four feet in front of him - and he is silent. Even his gasps are inaudible. No sniffling, not a single huff or quiver of breath. Just tears.

It’s been three days and zero hours and two minutes and both Dean and Bobby are in the room now, staring at Sam with undisguised fear-horror-confusion. 

They stare at him and he begins to shake. Lightly, at first, but it grows. It always grows. Sam is silent, and he’s shaking, and his eyes stream tears with the consistency of a downpour, and Dean moves back in front of him. He’d stepped away to yell for Bobby out the door when it looked like Sam would live after his abrupt descent into silence. Dean steps back in front of him and reaches out to touch Sammy, and now Sam’s not silent. A three-minute silence and now it’s broken by Sam scrambling backward with a gasp that’s really more of an inhaled moan of fear, hastening back so far that he pushes off of the bed he’d been sitting on.

He crashes to the floor, out of Dean’s reach even as the man leaps forward with a cry of, “Sam!”

But Sam’s flight had been too fast, so he crashed to the ground and has now fallen silent again, but Dean can’t tell if there are still tears because Sam has wedged himself into a ball in the crease between the floor and the wall, form-fitting his back and ass over the baseboards hard enough to bruise. He’s hiding his face in his knees, still trembling, but still silent, so Dean can’t tell if the tears have stopped. He isn’t sure if that would be better or worse.

Because now it’s been three days and five minutes, and Sam’s curled up in sublimation. 

He’s crammed against the wall, his knees are up in front of him, spread only far enough to shove his head between them - but down quite far, uncomfortably so, contorted - but his hands aren’t curled up like the rest of him. Instead, his hands are held out around his legs, stretched around them and then upward, palms out like he’s receiving something sacred. Or like he’s giving it away.

It’s been three days and six minutes and Sam is trembling in sublimation.

The room is silent, Dean and Bobby don’t know what to do, but he isn’t hurting himself and he isn’t screaming so they wait him out.

It’s been three days and thirty minutes, by the time anything happens.

At first, Bobby thinks it’s the creaks of his house. At first, Dean thinks it’s the creaks of his soul. They’re both wrong, they realize, as the sound is actually coming from Sam, but it reverberates in such a way that it’s equally loud from every corner of the room. Dean wonders, faintly and somewhat hysterically, when Sam learned ventriloquy. 

It’s a low but resounding utterance, indistinguishable at first, but becoming more distinct with every syllable, losing its eerie ambience and beginning to actually come from Sam as its focal point. Whatever Sam is saying, deep into his chest in a tone that aches, becomes clearer, but neither of the other two men can understand it.

Sam’s palms are still held up in front of his shins. His head is still shoved between his knees, and he’s still trembling. He finishes his recitation but doesn’t fall silent. Instead, he switches to a language that Dean realizes with a jolt that he can understand the words, seconds before Bobby realizes it, too. 

“Pater noster, qui es in שְׁאוֹל, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in שְׁאוֹל et in terra.”

A sickening aura falls over the room as both lucid men hear the exceptions to the otherwise familiar prayer. “On earth, as it is in שְׁאוֹל,” Sam had said. Sheol, the subterranean final resting place. The pit. “The place of no return, the land of utter darkness and deep shadow.” 

Hell.

Our Father who art in the pit of utter death and darkness…

It’s been three days and one hour by the time Sam finishes his contritions. 

By then, he’d recited that first chant in the same unknown language twice more, alternating it with the Latin rendition of the Lord’s prayer.

Hallowed be thy name…

Dean has a gnawing, sinking feeling in his gut that he knows exactly what that other language is.

Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is in שְׁאוֹל, the deep shadow.

The cadence, the tone; they’re the same. Distorted by the foreign, guttural tones of the other language, but they cut through Dean with the same taste. Sam is repeating the same thing over and over again, just in alternating tongues. The familiar Latin combined with the unfamiliar, grating timbre of the other. 

The repugnant language of the wretched Divine.

Those accursed, winged beasts, just like the one his brother, his Sammy has been locked up with for an earth-year. And who knows what that timeline looked like, in the depths? Nothing sears in your mind quite like the crushing realization that virtually no real time has passed when you return from it, Dean remembers. The rock constantly lodged in the base of Dean's chest, taking up space where his lungs are supposed to go, which screams out, your pain was never real.

Did time distort further the further down you went in hell? Was Dean’s 40-year stint a mere blink in the face of the time Sam had been locked up with that thing that did this to him?

The only reason Dean’s stomach isn’t on the floor in front of him is because his stomach is empty, the pervasive ache of the last few days locking it up tight. Sam has been screaming and Dean hasn't been eating, but he's never been less hungry in his life.

It’s been three days and one hour and Dean’s been crying for every single second of them.

The wailing and screaming had gouged at him, in that way little baby's cries gouge at unsuspecting figures passing by, striking that deep, maternal cord within them. The same way little toddler-Sam’s cries had always gouged at Dean. The same way, too, that not-so-little teenaged Sam’s sniffles into his pillow that he thought were muffled had always gouged at Dean. 

If the screams had been gouging at him, this reverent recitation was gutting him. Viscerally, like a fish being pulled sharply off of a too-big hook that it had somehow managed to swallow down too far. Catch and release turned into a pitiful horror.

But it’s been three days and one hour, now, and Sam’s finished his latest round of the Lord’s prayer - Latin this time - and he’s fallen silent again.

His hands are still held out, despite how bad it must make his shoulders and wrists ache with the tension of his stillness. Before Dean can think to do anything, though, Sam continues, but he breaks the pattern. Instead, his voice is much shakier now, and he starts to plead, the only term applicable to the tone of voice Sam has taken on: wretched, and full of supplication. Pleading, in Latin still,

“Elohim, Messiah - Please take this temptation from me. Please, as you have so graciously promised, benevolent Savior, tempt me not with this Sin of the Flesh. I am too weak, Father. This temptation is too great and I cannot bear it.

Temptation? Father?

The formal tone rankles. The self-deprecation vexes. The use of Father to refer to the most foul being to ever walk above and below the earth seethes and horrifies. Dean is rankled. Dean is vexed. Dean seethes, and he is horrified.

“Take Him from my sight, יהוה, keep me away from His fraternal presence, please, Lord. Balm though He is to my soul, grateful though I am for this offering, I am too weak to refrain from Sin.”

Fraternal? Sin?

“I would naught but bastardize this precious gift, and thine hand wilt be forced against me, as thou shalt flay me apart; dissect me to make penance for my transgressions. I do not wish this, Father, so please: Take Him from me, do not allow my wretched Sin to pervade in thine realm.”

Just because Dean’s stomach is empty doesn’t mean it isn’t trying valiantly to make an appearance. At the word “fraternal,” Bobby had started pushing him out the door. Stunned, Dean hadn’t fought back. There’s bile on Bobby’s hardwood floor outside the bedroom Sam and Bobby were still in.

Sam spoke as if Dean’s presence was the temptation, one too great to bear. And he spoke as if to God, but Dean knew better, he knew where Sam had been. Where Dean let him go. No gods to be seen, not there. What Sin had Lucifer contrived between them, to make Sam pay penance for? What occurred between them for Sam to be… Flayed alive. Dissected. 

Dean’s not stupid enough to believe that's anything but literal.

Bobby swings the door mostly-closed just in time for Sam to finish his pleas and lower his arms.

It’s been three days and one hour and ten minutes, and Sam raises his head.

Dean watches through the crack in the door, concealed in the darkness of the hallway. He’s holding his breath and he’s not sure he’ll ever forgive himself for not rushing right back to Sam's side. But something is holding him back, and he doesn’t want to name it. 

(Fraternal… Sin?)

Sam raises his head but keeps his eyes scrunched shut - tears and snot are dripping down his face, which is a blotchy red but somehow still pallid with fear. He’s shaking worse than before as he straightened his back out, sitting up and letting his legs fold down so he’s cross-legged. Not relaxed, but no longer contorted. Finally, he releases a shaky breath and opens his eyes, pointing down at the floor.

Bobby shifts his weight purposefully and Sam’s eyes fly to him with a wild flinch of fear. It hangs in the air uncomfortably long before he recognizes the man in the room with him, and he lets out a sob of what Dean hopes is relief.

He quickly bows his head and shifts up onto his knees in a simple prayer position, hands pressed together in a booklet of gratitude as he sobs out, “Thank you, Messiah, Morningstar. Thank you.”

Then, with a big sigh, he allows himself to look back at Bobby, but his gaze is clinical, observing. He whispers, through his hitching, wet breaths, “He did it. I can't believe he did it. He’s gone. I don’t have to do it again, not yet.”

Sam’s face crumples as he’s hysterical with relief, and Dean’s clawing his own arms raw and bloody outside the door, desperate to get to the crying baby and soothe it, desperate to kiss toddler-Sam’s scraped knees, desperate to tell teenage-Sam that nothing will ever change the way Dean feels about him, despite whatever darkness he seems to think is inside of him. But still, he’s held back by that unspeakable Sin between them. Lucifer didn’t contrive it, Dean knows that. He holds himself back.

Bobby speaks up then, gruff and wary, “Don’t have to do what, yet?”

Sam startles before finally, really looking at Bobby like he’s a human on the same plane of existence as him, not like he’s a mildly interesting fixture on a non-existent wall.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it, Bobby. It’s good to see you,” Sam cracks a smile, and it encapsulates one thousand shades of grief.

Sam continues quieter, once again to himself, “I wish it wasn’t like this. I’m sorry. So, so sorry. But you’re not Him, so it’s fine, it’s fine…”

Bobby squints at him long and hard, eyeing his more relaxed posture and at least somewhat lucid speech - odd though it may be - before he glances at the crack in the door and gives a tiny eyebrow raise that says, get your ass in here.

Dean slowly cracks the door open and calls out to his baby brother, just as he comes into view, “Sammy?”

His reaction is violent. If Sam was pallid before, he’s now a putrid shade of green, face twisting up in horror as he shakes his head, wringing his hands and mumbling out at first, devolving quickly into yells into the aether, into the corners of the room, “No! No, no- please, you promised, no-”

He collapses into himself on the floor, half hidden behind the bed, putting it between him and Dean. The trembling returns with moans and cries incessantly pouring out of Sam’s mouth as he buries his head in his hands, gripping at his face and whatever hair is in reach with too much force, wailing out a constant stream of no, no, no!

Dean takes an involuntary step forward into the room, drawn in by that maternal wretchedness. Desperate, always desperate, to comfort his baby brother. 

When his boot sounds on the carpet - muted but oh-so-loud to Sam’s ears - the cries lose their shape, hiccupping wails of no quickly becoming unintelligible and increasingly frantic, building and building until it can only be described as a howling scream.

It’s been three days and one hour and fifteen minutes, and Sam won’t stop screaming.

[saradika]

saradika’s summer soirée 🌻💖

it’s hard not to enjoy summer - for me, it’s meant vacations, time with friends, sweet treats (and another trip around the sun!) ☀️ it’s been a minute and some milestones since I did an event - so let’s celebrate with a mini summertime soirée!

my asks will be open from 07/12 through 07/15! please send the emoji with it, so I know which one you’d like!

🖼️ - send me your fave character(s), aesthetic, color, trope, or au, and I’ll make a mini moodboard for you!

📝 - send me one of your fics, and in exchange you’ll receive a mini moodboard based on the vibes!

✍️ - send me a character I’ve written (on here or on @eupheme) + an hc, trope, kink, or au, and I’ll write you a 5-sentence ficlet!

bonus - afterparty:

(to be sent in addition - these will be posted at the end!)

🥂 - got a fave summer song (or a song you associate with your fave character?) Include it in your above ask, and I will make us a summertime playlist! 🎶

📖 - is there a fic that’s been living rent-free in your head this year? Include it in your above ask, and I will put together a fic rec list - perfect for cozying up with after the shindig! 💕

thanks so much for hanging out with me on here, it’s meant more than I can say & I’m so grateful for you! 💖

[mai-mai-lim]

Birth.

[epickiya722]

I'm just realizing that Toge had only turned 17 just a little over a week before he loses his left arm.

[e-dubbc11]

Hello Fall!! (It’s also my birthday month)500 Follower Celebration!

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest//Google.

Greetings and salutations my darling friends!

As you gathered from the title, I have reached the milestone of 500 lovely friends AND it is also my birthday month (it’s the 29th, write that down. Kidding, I’m kidding!) Anyway, I thought it would be fun to do a little celebration. It’s also my favorite time of year, it’s filled with apple picking, cider, pretty leaves, Halloween, all things flannel and all things cozy.

🍂🍁🥮🍺☕️👢🍿🍁🍂🥮🍺

For those that have followed me for awhile and participated in one of these before, I’ll leave my rules under the cut and thank you all so much for your friendships, kind words and continued support. It really means so much to me 💕

So you know the drill by now but if you don’t, here’s the deal…I love doing these but I need you help so please like and reblog this post. I don’t bite so if you feel like sending something in, please go for it!

You don’t HAVE to follow me to participate but I would love it if you did!

Send in as many as you’d like

My very handsome men that I write for are Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Brock Rumlow, Dean Winchester, and a little bit for Donald Pierce and Leo Barnes

Autumn Vibes Are Very Welcome

Send me your character crush, a Fall activity, and I’ll make a moodboard for you (mutuals only for this one, please)

My Favorite Color is Fall

Send me your ideal date night scenario with the fictional character of your choice along with your skin tone, eye color, hair color plus a little description of your style and I’ll do your makeup and pick an outfit for your date. Also tell me any colors you like and/or dislike.

Cake, Candles, and Lots of Smiles

Since it is my birthday month, I’ll leave some birthday prompts under this…

Birthday Cute

Birthday Fluff

Time To Celebrate

November Rain

I love music and I love when I get inspired to write something based off of a song so send me a song and a character and I’ll try and write something based off of it

Embracing Another Year of Beautiful Chaos

Tell me your favorite birthday memory

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Ask anything you’d like to know about my fics

Fall-ing In Love

Pick a fic of mine and I’ll write a particular scene from the other character’s POV

If you think any of my one shots need a second part, let me know!

My on-going series are always on the table for new parts. You can combine that with any prompt you come across

Send me a gif (can be smexy, fluffy, angsty, etc)…and I’ll try and write something based off of it

As per usual, I’ll leave some prompt lists below but you’re not limited to just these. If you find a prompt you like, send it on over.

Soft Spooky Prompts

Halloween-ish Dialogue Prompts

Hurt/Comfort/Angst/Fluff

Protective Prompts

Lazy Mornings

Again, thank you all SO much for following me, I love you all and I look forward to your asks! 💕

I’ll Keep This Open Until 9/20 CLOSED

Tagging some of my lovelies that might be interested: @munsonownsmyass @music-indie-tv @k-marzolf @kayhi808 @fluffyprettykitty @ittybxttykxttytxtty @itwasthereaminuteago @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @jvanilly @stoneyggirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @snowkestrel @ilovewhiteroses @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @danzer8705 @rachlovesactors @snowkestrel @aoi-targaryen @nutmeg17 @nekoannie-chan @vaguekayla @freshabogados @wonderland2425

[fantasticenthusiasttale]

[Click for better quality]

Today it's Donald and Della's birthday, and this year they took a photo to remember the celbration! As Daisy's birthday is around too, she put on her favorite dress to celebrate together!!!

Redraw for comics' lore of this dt17 pic under "read more"

It doesn't matter which Della Duck we are talking about (dutch comics, dt17 etc), because all of them would do this lol

[devils-dares]

I really think Joel deserves some comfort, so please #3 and/or #14 from the Grumpy x Sunshine prompts with Joel x male reader, maybe? Perhaps something with him overhearing some conversations between the reader and Ellie...?

#3 - sunshine is babbling happily & grumpy is listening

#14 - grumpy is realizing what a different (and much more pleasant) life it would be if sunshine was by their side all the time

wordcount: 528

-----

“...and so when Outbreak Day happened, I think he got turned as well, but he never got to finish the run and I think that is so upsetting. Plus, I had to leave my collections at home! At home, El, where a clicker is probably eating the pages. I spent so much money on that damn collection.”

“So where was it supposed to lead?”

“I’ll never know! I think he was supposed to get married but I’m not sure.”

“Thought you said he had a girlfriend.”

“Who died, Ellie.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot.”

Joel sat on the far side of the camp, listening to your voices carry over the air. He loved listening to you talk. You could talk his ear off all day and all night and he wouldn’t care because he loved the sound of you.

You’d been a recent partner, after Tess’s demise. He’d come to hate you, stuck in a mindset that you were here to replace her. He quickly realized he was wrong, with how much you moved around and talked. He’d get every single fact about your favorite comics wrong just so your voice could fill the silence. God, he felt like he could pass a trivia game on your favorite character, the way you’d talk about the comics whenever there was nothing else to talk about.

This was really only the second longer trip the two of you were on, after about eight months of joining. You were refreshing to be around, he noticed. It was like you were an extra ray of sunshine outside and in the QZ.

He was leaning up against a tree, arms crossed in front of him with his eyes closed when he heard you and Ellie start talking in hushed voices.

“So you and Joel, huh?”

“What are you thinking about?”

“What?”

“Me and Joel what?”

“You two look at each other like how I imagine people in love look at each other. It’s disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You’re telling me you don’t have the slightest crush on grumps?”

“We’re calling him grumps now?”

“Don’t change the subject!”

“Shh!” you say, glancing at Joel, who’s still trying his best to stay awake while looking asleep, “Maybe? I dunno, I guess so.”

“I knew it!” Your hand slaps over her mouth.

“Shut up and go to bed.”

—--

“You got that look on your face, eyebrows scrunched. Can’t tell if you’re thinking or constipated.”

“I’m not con- Jesus, you’re just like the kid.” Joel says.

“My main character trait.”

“Flaw, I’d say.”

“Yet you continue to ask me to accompany you.”

“And if I’d ask you to keep doing so?” He heard your footsteps stop crunching in the gravel.

“Continue? With you? You’re not gonna shoot me to shut up?”

“Nice to have some blab on like you to fill the quiet.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a little crush on me, Miller,” you elbow him in the side, “I’m just kidding.”

He hums, but he knows you’re not wrong. He promises to himself that as soon as this thing blows over, he’s taking you back to Tommy’s place for a real date.

[crazyunsexycool]

Val! Heya love.

So, for your birthday ask game. I was gonna choose a trope from the office relationship, but it got out of hand when I liked more than 5🥹.

Can we please have something for Steve and Reader, where at SHIELD they’re incredibly close and have feelings for each other?

Lots of sticky notes on laptops, doodles on briefs, texts to one another under the table about coworkers, fixing ties and hair, and maybe sporadic texts about something to do with“work/meetings” when they really just want an excuse to talk to the other?

Sab, darling!!!

A/N: I loved this request so I hope you like what I wrote for it. Also send in all the other request I promise I don’t mind!!

Between sticky notes, meeting rooms and elevators.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: pining and fluff, some America puns (I’m so sorry they’re only like two but I couldn’t help myself)

You were late and your boss hated when you were late. It didn’t help that when you finally got to the briefing all eyes were on you when you got to the only available seat.

“Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Ms. Y/L/N. Now we can finally get started.” Your boss announces.

You take a deep breath as you look up to find Steve sitting right across from you. He raised an eyebrow at you and shook his head in mock disappointment. You rolled your eyes and smiled before your eyes landed on the disposable coffee cup in front of you. There was a little smiley face with your name on it in Steve’s handwriting. You mouth a thank you and he winks at you before turning his attention to the front of the room. Those pesky little butterflies that made your stomach their home since the day you met Steve took flight again.

~~~~~~~

“Hey Y/N,” Steve calls out to you as soon as the meeting is over. The sea of people in the hallway parts for him. “So how was your morning?” He smiles, the mischief behind his eyes lets you know he’s just joking.

“It was wonderful. My alarm didn’t go off, traffic was horrible and I had this meeting right at the beginning of the day with the most annoying of my boss.”

You hear someone clear their throat behind you. Steve is already holding his laughter as you turn around with a horrified look on your face. Your boss glares at you for a moment.

“Don’t let your tardiness become a habit Ms. Y/L/N.” he states before walking away.

Steve just gives a long whew as he watches your boss walk away. You cover your face behind the files you’re holding before Steve pulls them away in order to hold them for you.

“Did you know he was standing behind me?” You look up at him with a pout.

“Absolutely not. I would never let you embarrass yourself like that even though it was entertaining.”

You just glare up at him, mostly playfully. He laughs as you both get on the elevator. As others get on you’re pushed back more until you end up back to chest with Steve. His free arm comes up and around your waist to keep you up right. You hope he can’t hear your heart beating faster the longer you stand that close to him.

Once you are on your floor you get out while Steve stays on the elevator. Neither of you would really look at each other so you couldn’t see the pink tint on his cheeks and the sheepish smile that played on his lips.

“I’ll-uh I’ll send those reports to you as soon as I can.” You say.

“I’ll be waiting for them.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, see you later.” He says and then the doors close.

*****

Just as you said the reports were ready for Steve. With a pep in your step you go up to his office to drop them off even though there is someone that can do that for you. You frown when you get to your destination as you see that the lights are off. Grabbing a post-it you always carry with you and a pen you write a quick note and leave the file in his drop box.

A few minutes later you get a text.

Steve: Thanks for the vote of confidence.

Attached to his text was a picture of the sticky note. It was a drawing of a stick figure saluting and it says. ‘I know you ameriCAN do it.’

Y/N: You’re welcome. ☺️☺️

Y/N: let me know you make it back safe!

Steve: Always do. 😉

You smile at your phone before putting it away and working on the next set of reports.

~~~~~~

Steve: This guy’s voice is so monotonous that he's making himself fall asleep.

You try to hide your laugh behind a cough while Steve has the nerve to send you a message shushing you.

Y/N: not fair! Don’t make me laugh like that.

Steve: 🤷🏼 it’s true though… don’t look now but I think Linda from accounting is asleep with her eyes open.

You slowly look over and you watch as one of her coworkers nudges her. She starts slightly and then sinks into her chair further.

Y/N: 💀💀 oh maybe you should recruit him for the avengers. He could just give this speech to any bad guy and they’ll turn themselves in just to avoid hearing him anymore.

It was Steve’s turn to huff a laugh and try to cover it by clearing his throat. You were seated in different sections because of your jobs but still managed to be in each other's line of sight. Every time you looked over he would pretend to be nodding off, you shook your head every time before looking away.

****

“I thought that guy would never stop talking.” You say as you meet Steve in the hallway.

“Yeah, that was painful.”

“Oh, here are those analyses you requested.” You hand him a few folders. “Everything is arranged from what I thought would need priority down to low grade issues.”

“Thanks. Here are my completed reports.” He hands you a folder. “Everything is signed, all it needs is your review and it can be filed.”

“Thanks. I guess I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, see you later.” He smiles at you. That boyish grin that makes your knees weak.

When you get to your desk and open the first folder you laugh. Paperclipped to the first report was a doodle of the speaker from earlier except Steve has made him look like a sloth. You take the doodle out of the folder and place it in the small box you keep all of the doodles Steve gives you.

~~~~~~~~

“Hello?”

“Hey Steve,” you say as you look over some information that he needed. “I have that report you requested but you aren’t in your office.”

“Oh yeah, I was called back to New York for a mission with the avengers.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No,” he shakes his head even though you can’t see him. “You’re never an interruption. Is everything ok?”

“Yeah I just wanted to know what you wanted me to do with the report , you know, since you’re not here.”

There was a protocol in place for this occasion. You knew that and so did Steve. Still neither of you could wipe those dopey grins on your faces as you spoke to each other.

“Why don’t you hold on to them and I’ll get them once I get back?”

“That works.” There’s a small silence before you break it. “Well I’ll leave you to it. Please-“

“I don’t have to hang up yet. I mean if you have time, we can talk.”

“I’d like that.”

“Have I missed anything in the office since I left?” He asks as he sits back in his bed at the tower.

“You mean in the three hours since you left?”

“Yup.”

“Of course you did. Now you didn’t hear it from me, but rumor is that Linda from accounting is having an affair.”

“No!”

“Yes. And you’ll never guess with who?”

“Who?” Steve asks excitedly.

“Sloth man.”

“There’s no way.”

“It’s only what I’ve heard, it hasn’t been confirmed.”

“I wonder what she sees in him.”

“A good night's sleep.” You murmur.

Steve throws his head back and laughs. Once he calms down he starts giving you theories about the supposed rumor. Then the conversation turns into other topics. Before you know it you’ve been on the phone for at least two hours when he needs to leave.

“Please be safe.”

“I will. See you in a day or so.” Steve says before hanging up.

~~~~~~~~~

The day had dragged on. Maybe it was because you didn’t have much work for the day. But you had a sneaking suspicion that it had to do with a certain blond haired, blue-eyed super soldier not being around.

It wasn’t until late in the evening and you were working extra hours that you received a very long overdue break. There’s a little knock at the end of your desk. You push yourself a little bit to turn your chair around. Words die on your tongue when you see a bruised up Steve standing there.

“Oh my god what happened?” You raise your hand to lightly touch a bruise on his cheek.

He wraps his fingers around your wrist and you immediately realize how inappropriate it is. When you go to pull your hand away he doesn’t let you. His thumb is drawing a lazy circle on your wrist as he brings both your hands down.

“Just some bad guys. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Why are you still here?”

“I think my boss is still mad that I called him annoying and I’m stuck doing more paperwork.” You shrug your shoulders.

“Well I hope you haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Nope.”

“Good.” He smiles at you and then pulls a bag from behind his back. “Because I brought your favorite.”

“My hero.” You beam before turning and clearing a spot on your desk. Steve places the bag down and pulls a chair from an empty desk and sits down with a bit of a grunt. “So spill it.” You motion to him.

“Just a mission.”

“I need a play by play. Come on please. I read all of your reports, they’re basically a book at this point and I need the next chapter.”

He huffed a laugh. “Fine. But it’s rather boring.”

“You could never bore me.”

“Could I get that in writing? I’d like to have proof for Tony.”

“Sure, I’ll even have it notarized.”

He laughs again and shakes his head. Then he starts talking about the mission. You could sit there listening to Steve talk about anything. After he finished that story you moved on to other topics, work now long forgotten.

~~~~~~~

As much as you hated it, Shield was requiring a certain number of their employees from each department to attend a gala. Because your boss still had it out for you, you were selected to attend.

You were fiddling with the necklace you’d paired with your dress as you walked through the already crowded venue. Someone grabs you by your forearm and pulls you into an empty hallway while you try to throw a punch.

“Woah calm down, it’s just me.” Steve said as he let go of you.

“Why would you grab me like that?”

“I’m sorry I just didn’t want anyone to realize I was here. Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad, it’s just I thought I was being kidnapped.” You frown a bit.

“I’d never let that happen.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, you knew he meant it as a friend but sometimes you wish it was more than that.

“Is everything ok?”

“Honestly, I’m kind of nervous.”

“You are nervous? Why?” You ask incredulously.

“This function is for World War Two vets. I don’t know it’s not the same as if I was dealing with someone that didn’t fight in it. They ask questions and I can play it down a bit but with the vets… It makes me feel exposed.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I have to give a speech. If I find you a seat closer to the stage would you take it?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you .”

“Don’t mention it.”

His large hand takes yours and he pulls you down the hall with the intention of leading you to the seat he mentioned. You tug on his hand so that he stops and turns to you. Pulling him a bit closer you reach up and fix the bow tie. Then your hands instinctively run across his shoulders and down his chest in order to smooth out his tux. He smiles at you then. His eyes light up when he sees you return it. The moment is far too intimate for two friends to be sharing but it feels right nonetheless.

Steve graciously walks you to an open seat and heads to the stage. Just like you knew it would, the speech was a success. Still every once in a while he’d look down at you and you’d return an encouraging smile.

****

“May I have this dance?” Steve had his hand stretched out in front of you.

“Why yes you may.”

You place your smaller hand in his and he leads you to the dance floor. Steve places one hand on your waist and the other takes your hand. As a slow song starts playing he begins to lead, the scent of his cologne is intoxicating in the best ways.

“I thought you didn’t dance.”

“Only with the right partner. Besides, Sam bet that I wouldn’t dance with the most beautiful woman here. I had to prove him wrong.” He says just as he turns both of you and Sam comes into your line of sight, raising a glass of champagne and smiling.

“Steve…”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just thought it was time I told you how I really felt. It’s ok if you don’t feel the same but I learned my lesson the hard way.” He spins you around and pulls you back in. “I like you as more than just friends. Seeing you makes my day, I can literally be having the worst day and you make it better. If it weren’t for you working at Shield would have been a nightmare. You saw me for more than just Captain America and I don’t think you realize what that means to me. It’s never bothered you to have to do things differently or having to spend time teaching me something because I just don’t know about all of the new technology. Most importantly you don’t mock me for it, you accept me as I am. And I’m so grateful you’re in my life.”

Steve dips you and as he pulls you back up all you can do is stare up at him with wide eyes. He smiles fondly at you as he takes your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

“I have to go on a mission. But would you be willing to talk about this some more when I get back?”

You just nod, all words had escaped you at the moment. How were you supposed to respond? You adored Steve but never in a million years did you think it was reciprocated. Steve leans down and kisses your cheek before walking towards Sam. Then you watch as they both walk out. By the time you leave the gala you’re still reeling and trying to figure out how to respond.

~~~~~~~~~

Steve didn’t get back until Tuesday. It had been four days since the gala and since he told you how he felt. He was supposed to be back today. You knew for a fact he was because some of the people on your team had mentioned seeing him. Without being able to take much more you rush to the elevator and press the button for his floor.

Everyone around you rushes out but you are glued to your spot. Standing at the doors is Steve, looking as handsome as ever. His eyes light up when he sees you even though there’s a really bad bruise on his cheek and it’s obvious the mission was worse than expected. Still he steps into the elevator and no one dares walk in, leaving the two of you alone. The elevator starts to ascend but Steve pushes the stop button.

“Hi.” You manage to squeak out.

“Hi, I am free tonight by the way.”

“Oh, good.” You say as you try to hide your smile.

“But another America joke really?” He holds up the post-it note you had placed inside a folder for him to find.

It simply reads: on a scale of one to America, how free are you tonight? With a few stars drawn around it.

“You are Captain America, I have to use that to my advantage.” You giggle at his fake huff of annoyance. “Since you’re a superhero does that mean you’re super free tonight?”

Steve genuinely laughs this time before he turns to you. He finds that you’re already looking up at him with a soft smile.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

“Oh so you think I’m cute.”

“Yup.” He takes a step towards you, forcing you against the wall. His hands rest on the small handrail, effectively caging you in.

“How cute would I have to be to get you to kiss me?”

“I think you’re there already.” Steve says before his lips are on yours.

It was better than what you had imagined. His lips were soft, the kiss was sweet. Unfortunately it was short lived.

“If you two are done holding up the elevator, I’d really appreciate seeing Captain Rogers in my office. Now.” Director Fury’s voice came through the speaker and you pulled away quickly.

You giggled at the fact that you had been caught. The butterflies in your belly were in full flight as Steve smiled at you. When the elevator came to a stop he pressed a kiss to your cheek and stepped out.

“I’ll see you tonight.” You smile at him as the doors close. A few seconds later you get a text.

Steve: It's a date. 😉

[topios]

A comic about deals being made and rejected.