#cancelled flight

[cissyenthusiast010155]

I’m alive, still on holiday, but stuck in Greece because my flight got cancelled. Haven’t been posting much as it’s been hectic trying to find a way home… So no worries about my lack of posting, I’m alright! 💞💞

[tobbogan-13]

my flight got cancelled because of a mass it outage but pretty sunrise 😍

[secondlifep]

Only took an extra day to get back to the US. 🤦🏼‍♂️🙏🏼😅🛫

[elizabetharzanisketchbook]

The worst kind of red eye flight is the kind that boards the plane and then says just kidding — try again in two days, 2022

[catsandclutter]

Airport really said "plane broken, gtfo plz, email woth refund maybe"

[inatyzzy]

well uh im stuck in new jersey now i guess

and there are no flights that exist for me to take that arent either pricey as FUCK (1,700 for one way) or are too late for me to get to (since im helping my bro vend at supercon)

so looks like ill be making an 18 or so hr drive with my bro (literally no stops- 4am to 11pm in one go)

im so exhausted

[syntaxaero]

big dragon doing... big dragon things :3c

[omgbilly]

☆ no peeking ☆

18+ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴀʀᴇʟʏ ʙᴇ ᴄᴏɴsɪᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ's ᴀ ʟɪʟ ғʟᴜғғ ᴀɴɢsᴛ ᴍᴀsʜ-ᴜᴘ. ᴄʜᴇᴇʀs, xᴏ. ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ɴᴜᴅɪᴛʏ (ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛᴏᴛᴀʟʟʏ ʙᴇ ᴡᴏʀsᴇ, ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ). ᴅɪsᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ ɪs ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴀᴅᴠɪsᴇᴅ 'ʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛs. ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.3ᴋ

It was finally quiet, save for the sound of the shower running in this outdated, dirty bathroom. You peeled the sticky, blood-soaked clothing off your body—piece by piece. The heavy iron stench of the crimson substance would’ve made you wretch just months ago, had this not become your new normal. You stood in front of the vanity in the tiny basement bathroom, hands braced on the sink for the support you so desperately needed in this moment, as you gazed at the stranger returning your solemn look in the mirror. Sure, you were covered in someone’s blood and your hair was a tangled mess, but it was more than that. Your cheeks had sunken in slightly; the bags under your eyes had bags, and you had that thousand-yard stare that you had only ever seen described in novels.

It’s days like today when you miss who you were; before the Boys, before this whole “take down Vought and burn everything to the ground in the process” initiative that they were after. That Butcher was after. Butcher was…something else entirely, a true enigma—in your humble opinion. Every time you thought you had him figured out, he pulled a 180. He was good looking, incredibly attractive, but you never saw him entertain any potential love interests. You had, however, caught the isolated glance your way once or twice. The occasional brushing of hands that lingered longer than that should have…

A gentle knock sounded at the door, prompting you away from your thoughts before they went too far down the forbidden path that is Billy Butcher. You were brought back to the current moment in time; one in which you looked like a feral animal, blood splattered across your face. You were too quickly reminded of the harshness of your reality, and it sent you into a vicious spiral.

“Yeah?” you sniffled, trying your best to conceal the sound of your hyperventilating. It wasn’t like it would be weird that you were on the verge of a complete and total breakdown. Virtually every one of you has had a full-fledged “they’re coming to take me away” moment or two. And it’s honestly expected given your newfound line of work in…what’d you tell that cute guy at the bar the other day? Extermination? Waste management? 

“It’s, uh, it’s Hughie,” a soft voice emanated from the other side of the cheap, thin door. “We’re going to grab something to eat. Need us to bring some food back?”

You instinctively placed your grimy hand on your bare stomach. You hadn’t eaten a proper meal in what felt like weeks, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could reasonably keep this up. Your hand moved towards your chest, resting firmly above your heart in an attempt to settle down. Breathing deeply and clearing your throat, you replied, “um, yes, actually. Thank you, Hughie, I’m…famished, honestly.”

You could almost hear the relief in his voice as he gave you a brief farewell before you finally built up the strength to move towards the shower. You gently stepped over the wall of the yellowed porcelain tub, instantly enveloped in the hot water. Under any other circumstance, the heat of the water would have been too much to bear but you knew only water from the depths of the fiery inferno that is your hellish life would be able to fully cleanse your body of today’s events.

After what felt like hours, and the struggle of bringing yourself to actively wash your hair, face, and body instead of just lying on the floor of the shower and crying, you turned off the stream of water and stepped out of the shower. You grabbed the nearest towel, scratchy and worn, and wrapped yourself in it. Your feet slowly padded towards the door, pulling it open. Somehow thinking about nothing and everything all at once, you were in your own world as you rounded the corner out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel when you collided into the chest of a much larger person. You let out a startled yelp, hands raised to push against the wall of a human that you had, quite literally, run into.

“‘Ello, dove,” Butcher grinned, his eyes shimmering with amusement as he wrapped his arms around you to keep you from toppling over. 

“W-what are you doing here? I thought, I mean, Hughie said that you guys were…” you stuttered, fumbling over what to say.

“You thought you had this whole place to yerself and could parade that pretty arse around like y’owned the damn place?” he chuckled, hands migrating lower down your back before pulling you closer to press firmly against him. 

His accent was absolutely delectable and it, coupled with the sensation of his large, rough hands on your bare skin, sent shivers down your spine. Your body had a surprisingly visceral reaction to both with goosebumps erupting all over your body. Staring up at him, you couldn’t help admiring his rugged features. You had always thought his deep-set eyes were black, but up-close they were a beautiful dark brown that housed his trademark intensity. He had small scars, barely noticeable, peppered across his prominent cheekbones. His thick dark hair was longer than you typically would prefer in a man but the slightly tousled appearance only added to his tough, masculine exterior. You felt your arousal stirring deep in your belly, yearning with a desperate, uncomfortable desire for him to move his hands to another part of you. You weren’t sure if it was his touch or the sudden chill you felt that had your whole body on edge.

“Bit nippy in here, yea?”

You tensed, becoming keenly aware of the feeling of his clothes against your naked figure. You looked down in horror, mortified, to see the tattered excuse of a towel you once donned was in a heap on the floor. You instantly felt heat spread rapidly across your face, undoubtedly apparent to the rugged Brit before you. Your heart was beating out of your chest. God, strike you down now—save you from the embarrassment.

“Butcher, oh my God, I—”

“Relax, love, I ain’t looking. Here,” he interrupted, removing his hands from the small of your back agonizingly slow. The gentle trace of his fingertips as he pulled away left a trail of fire in their wake. He didn’t break contact with your pleading doe eyes, as he waved one hand and placed it over his eyes as a show of good faith and took a—small—step back. 

You cleared your throat, expectantly. “You better not peek.”

He let out his low grumble of a laugh, acknowledging your unspoken request with a small shake of his head and a breathy sigh before turning around. You immediately bent down, scooping up your towel and scrambling to wrap it around you as quickly as you could. Your trembling fingers eventually were able to secure it around your bust after dropping the corner twice, exposing your breasts. You glanced up, thanking the big fella upstairs that Butcher was turned around and unable to see you pathetically take a full minute to hide your shivering body.

“You’re fine, Butcher, I’ve got my towel,” you voice quietly, stepping to the side as you begin to scurry past him to your room. 

I’m never gonna hear the end of this, you think to yourself, your face still flushed. You all but sprinted the few remaining feet of the small, cramped space when you caught a glint of light in a large vanity mirror hung on the wall at the end of the hallway. You stopped in your tracks. The mirror offered a perfect view of the hallway but more, specifically, the exact spot of where you previously stood, naked and fumbling with your towel. In the same mirror, you saw Butcher’s devilish smile appear from the shadow of his dark beard accompanied by a mischievous wink before turning on his heel of his boot and disappearing around the corner of the opposite end of the hall.

[happyheidi]

[keepitdreamin]

Black Sails tarot part 1 (2, 3, 4, 5)

realized i never got around to posting these tarot cards i edited last year. going to post in multiple parts so tumblr doesn't yell at me and i'll link everything together

i did print these in an extremely limited run of exactly two copies: one for myself and one for @horribleherstories for xmas. if you also want to print them, feel free; these should be high enough quality

[synesthete-sylke]

do you think it hurts, when you fly too close to the sun? or is it really the fall that kills you?

anyways scotts sos ending huh. dude needs to stop killing himself lol but i can at least Try and make it a bit angsty :b

[coffeeghoulie]

I'd love if you wrote more hockey dewther. You mentioned they shared an apartment when starting out so there had to be moments where those oblivious idiots acted like a couple or others thought they were already one. Any backstory insight would be lovely though.

so I knew exactly what to write for this one, the only person who knew this scene existed before you sent this ask was @askingforthesun, but you're right, there were so many moments that those fools acted like a couple long before they knew they had feelings.

featuring the beginning of Aether's journey into being a cat dad, Dew growing out his hair, and Swiss lovingly starting trouble.

also tagging @forlorn-crows and @nocturnalghoul for hockey shenanigans (though there's no real hockey in this lmao)

divider by @ghuleh-recs <3

"You looking forward to playing in the big leagues, Dew?" Aether asks, folding the last of Dew's many, many band shirts into a cardboard box, folding the flaps shut.

"Moving cross country again for hockey?" Dew takes a deep breath, slumping back against the back of the couch. "No's not the right answer, huh?" He says, packing his own box full of stick wax and tape and skate laces. "It's the majors. Of course I'm looking forward to it. I've been working for this for my entire life. I'm excited. Just. Um. I don't want to leave you all by your lonesome. You're codependent."

He snarks, but Aether's been in close quarters with Dew for two years, has lived with him for a season and a half. There's the bite of worry there.

Aether hums, eyes darting over as he hears the skittering of tiny claws on vinyl. A kitten scrambles into the living room, big amber eyes and red fluffy tail, as she chases a toy she's been playing with on legs too long for her body. Aether sets the box down, scooping up the kitten he'd gotten a few weeks ago. She's tiny, or Aether's hands are just huge, because she fits perfectly in his palms.

"Hello, little Lady," he coos, grinning as she purrs, rubbing her little cheek against him. He turns back to Dew. "Don't worry about leaving me, Dewey, I've got your replacement right here."

Dew's expression softens as he looks up at the tiny cat in his hands. "Gimme," he says, reaching out to Aether. "Gimme the baby."

Aether's never been able to deny Dew anything. He sets Lady down into Dew's waiting hands, her paws splayed out as she settles in his lap. Dew scratches under her chin and smiles at her, warm and toothy. The way he smiles when he thinks Aether can't see.

Lady's delighted by the change in location, meowing loudly and little ears flicking as Dew pets her. "Gonna miss you, little girl," he whispers, and Aether looks over at the boxes in their living room, pretending he can't hear. Most of them will go in storage, but the rest will get shipped to Dew's new apartment several states away.

"Yeah, probably shouldn't have gotten a kitten right before the season starts," Aether says. He sits down on the couch next to Dew. Not touching, but still close.

"She'll be good for you," Dew says, not looking up at him. His hair's just beginning to brush the tops of his shoulders. "I know you'll make a great cat dad."

His lips quirk up. "Aw, so sweet of you."

"Yeah, you know me, bruiser Dewdrop, so sweet," Dew says absentmindedly, reaching for one of the bundles of skate laces he'd thrown into the box. It unravels as he grabs it, and they both laugh as Lady's eyes lock onto the aglet. Her pupils blow from slits, fascinated.

She bats at the lace, little, white needlesharp claws extended. Dew smiles warmly, not looking up as Aether pulls his phone out. He makes sure that his phone is silenced before snapping the picture of two of the most important things in his life right now.

Eventually, Lady rips the lace from Dew's loose grip, rolling onto her back to bat at it with her hindpaws, ever the little hunter. Dew lets her play, turning to face Aether as he slips his phone back into his pocket.

"For real though, are you going to be good out here?" He asks, real, genuine concern slipping into his voice. "I mean, I'm sure I'm going to be seeing Kärnan on the back of a Ghouls jersey before long, but you good?"

Aether shrugs. "I mean, I got by just fine before I met you." He chuckles, and Dew turns back to the kitten. Soon, they will finish packing up Dew's things, and the apartment will be half as loud.

And because Dew's halfway across the country, there's no way that he will know when Aether gets that picture printed in a little glossy 3 by 4 and tucks it into his wallet. And it stays there.

It stays when Aether gets the call not even six months later, the Ghouls' first line defenseman having suffered a severe knee injury and needing a replacement while on injured reserve. Dew's right about his name on the back of a Ghouls' jersey. They're both surprised about how quickly he was right, though.

The picture stays for the four seasons he plays with the Ghouls, stays when he's voted captain twice in a row. It stays when he falls in love with his best friends, is accepted into their arms as one of their own.

It stays completely a secret until one winter night, warm lights on in their apartment. Snow's piling in the corners of the window panes, and Lady, full grown now and elegant, curls up on the couch next to Aether. He's got his laptop on his lap, one hand idly petting through her russet fur, the other typing as best he can. There's music coming from the kitchen, Swiss playing something from his phone as he finishes up making a bagel, late night snack. Water runs in the other side of the apartment, Dew taking a long shower.

Aether pats at his pocket, cursing softly under his breath when he remembers where he put his wallet when he got home that afternoon. "Swiss," he calls. There's the clatter of silverware in the sink, and he sticks his head into the living room, licking cream cheese from his fingertip.

"Yeah, Aeth?"

"Would you be a dear and grab my wallet?" he asks, smiling warmly. Swiss matches his grin.

"Sure thing. You getting the tickets?"

"Mhm," Aether hums as Swiss steps back into the kitchen. "It's not going to be that good a view to be watching hockey from, but it'll be nice to surprise them regardless."

"Very much so," he calls. It only takes a moment before Swiss is back, paper plate with his bagel in one hand and wallet in the other. He doesn't have a good grip on it, and it falls open, revealing that secret picture of Dew. "Oh, what's this?" he teases, jovial. "Who's that handsome young man?"

Aether snorts, even as color comes to his cheeks. "He doesn't know about that one, I'd like to keep it that way."

"Well," Swiss chortles, plopping down onto the couch on the other side of Lady. She mrrps, disturbed from her sleep, but she happily presses her face into Swiss's hand as he pets her. "I believe I recognize my step-daughter. This must be from before the big leagues, huh?"

Aether sighs, ignoring Swiss's favorite joke. "Dew'd just been called up. Half a season before me."

"God, how did you not know you were in love with him then," he teases, taking a big bite of his bagel.

Aether snorts and rolls his eyes, pulling a card from his wallet and typing in his information. "I don't know," he admits. "But I know now."

Swiss wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulls him in close over Lady's curled up form. "Yeah. We know now."

[soscarlett1twas]

Flight Home

↳ Andrew and Darling make their way back to London. ↳ 664 words

A month and a half. 46 days. That was how long Andrew had been abroad.

For a man who had never left the United Kingdom before, he took to travel quite easily. Darling joked about him being in “vacation mode” quite often, as he exchanged overcoats for tacky button-ups, glasses for contacts, and his usual demeanor of propriety for laxity. Andrew had gone off the deep end for their vacation.

And what a trip it was. The Caribbean, and each island which made it, was beautiful. They had run away and ended up in Wonderland.

But all good things must come to end.

As the plane moved down the runway, Darling shifted their headrest to place their head on it comfortably. They sat in the middle seat, pressed between Andrew, who had the window luxury, and a kind older woman who boarded before them. Andrew had offered his seat, but they declined. The flight home was for them to sleep.

He intended to sleep as well, of course — but island hopping and all the flying which accompanied it did not acquaint him well to airplanes. Only long into a flight, with a stagnant incline and smooth air, could Andrew find himself able to close his eyes for a few hours.

Darling’s hand laced into his, pressing lightly into his palm. He smiled as they closed their eyes, dropping limp into the seat, prepared to rest for the night.

After he whispered ‘goodnight’ and kissed their hand, he turned his attention back to the window. The harsh lights above them morphed to a more appropriate blue, darkening the internal cabin.

He watched the runaway lights as they became quicker and quicker, eventually forming into a singular line as the plane angled itself upwards. The takeoff was smooth, barely a jolt, taking them into the air.

Beating air silenced any other sound as the airport became small beneath them, its surrounding trees becoming shrubs as they furthered the incline.

Jamaica — their final destination, and now their waypoint before home — had their airport on the coast. So water, in its clean, cerulean colors that struck Andrew, a regular viewer of the Thames, as heavenly, quickly exchanged the concrete scenery. He watched it fade beneath them with fondness. London had many things. Clean water was not one of them.

When he turned his attention to the landscape however, his reverie lapped into his throat, making it feel hollow with emotion he couldn’t describe. Constellations of lights painted the ever-distant island, marking exactly where each city was, swaths of dark forests between them. Winding roads around the shoreline were trailed by sparkles, not unlike the runway. Cars moved to a steady pace along them.

And Andrew realized how much he had missed this.

Escaping was what he dreamed of. Still, he clung to it, his eyes holding onto the island as it got smaller, his neck hurting from craning to watch the window. But for all the love he had for him and Darling’s adventures, for all their memories made, it was the familiarity of home that kept him glued to the sight.

As Jamaica departed from his view, he turned to face, back straight, the seat in front of him. Darling’s eyes remained shut.

Andrew squeezed their palm, and their weak return confirmed their fatigue.

He watched them, a sight unable to be taken from him — their lashes against their face, the curve of their lips, the crown of their head — and sunk into his own chair.

He loved their travels. He loved them, peacefully dozing away to whatever dreams. But, finally on track to returning, he could not help but crave the physical location of his life. The one he could confidently say was his, not a “vacation mode” spectacle of his chaste lust for adventure.

Andrew scoffed to himself, shaking his head, his glasses, finally saved from their case, slipping down his nose. Home. What an easy thing to hate. What an essential thing to desire.

[androidboy]

whenever he buys me something and i accidentally peep the price

[artemisiatridentata]

due to circumstances (stuck in my house feeling like a caged animal bc of wildfire smoke) I have crocheted another fish! I stuffed this one with old clothes instead of polyester fiber filling like the previous ones I’ve made, and I actually like it way better bc the extra weight makes the fish so realistically floppy! and it’s perfect for whacking people with! >:)

Alt text for video: Two short clips of my hand holding the crocheted fish and flopping it around to demonstrate how the weight makes it move realistically. In the first clip I’m holding the fish by the middle and flopping it up and down. In the second clip, I’m holding the fish by the tail and making it wiggle from side to side. In the background of both clips you can hear my brother practicing the mandalorian theme on the piano. End alt text.

[eponastory]

My Dude...

It's fan fiction.

I know, I know... I'm writing one right now that has Aang doing some crazy shit because Katara is self-aware, and Aang is possessive. She straight up leaves. She had enough of his shit.

But you've got to be honest here...

Aang is actually like that.

Seriously. Katara is Aangs literal comfort blanket.

Which is what we see. I mean, if you also look at the comics, you get the same thing. It's pretty much one-sided and all about Aang in that relationship.

So yeah, we're gonna write about what we see. Keep in mind that most of us OG fans are well into our 30s now and we've seen a thing or two. We don't like Aang for various reasons that are very valid.

So you do you, and we're gonna do what we do.

But seriously... this isn't a fucking airport. You don't need to announce your departure.

Bless your heart.