#divider by bunnysrph

[reocidal]

HONEYMOON PHASE — A. MIYA

cws; swearing, gn?reader but it gives fem to me even tho theres not descriptions of reader or gendered pet names, married life, tooth rotting fluff, yeah.

wc; 605

"'s it too late," atsumu's voice is muffled and his words slurred as he speaks, face buried in your shoulder.

"mm?" you respond sleepily, not really listening to him. strong tan arms are wrapped around your middle, and you absentmindedly curl your fingers into his untoned bleached hair. he purrs at the feeling, pulling you closer to him so he can press his mouth to your neck, grinning lazily. you make a slight noise of protest as you feel his teeth against your neck, and then he bites you, really bites you, to make you shut up.

"mmh, leave the jackals, y'know? fuck 'em, i could become a hermit or a monk or somethin'."

a drowsy, surprised giggle bubbles out of you, and his smile widens in response. he likes making you laugh.

"tsumu," you say, and he realises with glee that you still have your rough, lower-than-usual, sexy morning voice. "tsumu, monks can't get married, i think. and they have to be bald."

he groans, but you're not sure which one it's in response to. switching tactics, you half-heartedly try to push him off you.

"lemme stay here," he whines. "i love you, i wanna—"

"tsumu, no," you chide him, and he quiets down like a kicked puppy. raising his head, he pulls your left hand to his lips and presses a kiss to the spot just above your wedding ring before he gets up with a sleepy yawn.

"five years into our marriage and you still don't let me sleep in," he says with a pout.

you ignore him, pausing mid-movement to admire his sculpted figure and the way his body moves as he transfers his wedding ring from his finger to the chain around his neck. when he notices you looking, a bright, boyish grin lights up his face. "can't risk losing it," he tells you, still smiling. you can't help but mirror his expression with your own giddy, lovestruck smile.

you're fixing up breakfast in the kitchen when he comes in, although he's still not dressed to leave yet. you turn to him, smiling when he nuzzles his face into yours. "baby, can i drive you t'work?"

you shake your head, hands coming up to cup his face. "you're already running late, love."

he rolls his eyes in response, angling his head to kiss your palm. "baby, best friend, love of my fuckin' life. is it such a crime to want to spend more time with you?"

"we have all the time in the world, tsumu," you say. "eat quick and go."

"not leaving the house without you," he says sulkily. "they can practice without their favourite setter for a bit."

"favourite? that's debatable," you tease, sitting down next to him with your own breakfast. atsumu kisses your knuckles again with a sly grin, ignoring your dig at him. "but i'm your favourite setter."

"you're my favourite everything," you say, and then you laugh as the red spreads across his cheeks and his nose and the tips of his ears. your breakfasts remain untouched as he leans in to kiss all over your face in a bid to distract you.

"are you flirting with me, y/n l/n?" he asks.

"maybe," you reply, still laughing.

he shuts you up with a kiss. "what if we skip work today?"

"and do what, exactly?"

"laze around, y'know. i just want to stay with you, spend some time together."

"hmm." you pretend to think, but your mind is already made up. "i dunno..."

he kisses your palm, and then your wrist. "please?"

you've never been able to resist those stupid puppy eyes, anyways.

I HATE THIS ITS SO HAPPY. kmsing. drop a like, rb and or comment if u liked this 🤔🤔 husband atsumu u could fix me

[reidgenius]

Low Pain Tolerance | S.R. x Reader

image by reidgif <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Word Count: 1.4k Category: angst, hurt/comfort? Warnings: commitment issues, wildly insecure!reader (it's really just me) A/N: I haven't written for Spencer before, so please excuse any OOC inaccuracies and be nice okay! I am a long-time lurker/admirer of the lovely @pathologicalreid and am writing this for her cutesy margovember event :) Song Inspo: Low Pain Tolerance by Abby Holliday

You never enjoyed running.

Still, that didn't stop you from doing it often. Whether it be on the job or in a relationship, you ran.

To catch a bad guy. To catch yourself before you fall. To stop something terrible before it happens... You ran.

In this instance, you found yourself running from Spencer Reid.

"Would you look at me? Please?" he pleaded.

You knew if you were to turn around that you'd see his glassy doe eyes and be drawn right back in. You knew your weaknesses, and he was certainly one of them. The biggest one. That's why you stayed put, staring at his bedroom wall.

"I can't, Spence." You meant to say it with finality, but it came out more as a whimper.

"You can't look at me, or you can't-"

"Neither. Both."

As the holidays approached, Spencer had mentioned the idea of the two of you making a trip out to Vegas. "Just for a day or two," he'd promised. Though there wasn't much he treasured about home, you knew that his mother was there, and that was more than reason enough.

This evening, he'd brought it up again after letting you avoid the topic for weeks.

"It's only a matter of time before you figure it out," you admit.

"Figure what out?"

"God, Spence, that I'm only bringing you down!" you nearly shouted, though you hadn't meant to. The anxiety took over. "I'm like... gahhh! I don't know how to do any of this, I-"

To your dismay, he let out a laugh as you finally turned to face him. A real, genuine laugh.

"Bringing me down?" He looked at you with an earnest amusement. "Honey, I don't think you realize what you-"

"I'm scared. Okay? Is that what you wanted me to admit? That I'm scared of meeting her?" A single tear gushed down your cheek.

His brows knit in concern as he quickly thought of ways to disprove the common fears surrounding schizophrenia and it's manifestations.

"Baby, schizophrenia doesn't ma-"

"Dammit Spencer, it's not about that! It's- I..."

You found yourself stumbling over your words.

"I don't care about her diagnoses!" you laughed. (Of course, you did care, but that wasn't what was scaring you.) "I'm scared of this!" you said, waving your hands between the two of you. "I don't want to rush it. I don't want to get her hopes up..."

You let your legs give way to sit on the floor against the wall, your head in your hands, mumbling to the cold hardwood.

"I don't want to get my hopes up."

There was it. That was the truth.

You weren't used to it. You weren't used to someone asking you how your day was and really caring. You weren't used to the notion that a man would want to wrap himself around you at night and keep you close. You'd never been one to draw much attention from men. Or women. Or anyone, really.

Naturally, you figured that there must be something deeply and inherently flawed in you. Something Spencer had yet to discover.

So, being with him was... terrifying. You were constantly waiting and wondering when he'd conclude that you weren't as pretty as he initially thought, or as witty, or as intelligent, or kind, or...

And it would only be cruel to drag Diana into this. To have her think that perhaps her son had found his person. To have her thinking that she might be meeting her future daughter-in-law. It felt cruel to yourself, in some twisted way, to pretend that this was all going to last.

Spencer was typically a fast thinker, but your admission had the cogs in his brain working overtime. You were afraid of him? Of your relationship?

He padded over to join you on the floor, keeping a little distance so as not to scare you.

"Get your hopes up? You don't-" he gulped, "I mean... you don't think we're gonna- that this is gonna work out?"

Still speaking to the floor, you sigh, "I don't know, Spence."

You were exhausted. Incessantly feeling like you're on the brink of being "found out" can do that to a person. It's not that Spencer hadn't done all the right things. No, he was the perfect partner. But therein lied the issue. He was perfect. And, in your opinion, you were far, far from it.

You took a deep breath through your tears.

"I don't think I can keep doing this."

Confusion. Utter shock. Things had been going so well with you the past 8 months. Spencer immediately began to wrack his brain combing through all the possible mistakes he could've made. Did he raise his voice with you? Had he forgotten some big milestone? Was he not giving you enough?

"Honey I-" he gathered himself, placing a hand on your thigh, "I'm so sorry. Can I ask... what makes you say all this?"

Though you were reluctant, you figured that now was as good a time as any.

"Spencer. I am not good for you! Good enough for you!" With each point, you illustrated by raising a finger, "I am impulsive and I complain and I get weird sometimes when you touch me and I can be a massive bitch and I never know how to-"

"Woah, woah, woah-" He snuck up closer to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and placing his head atop yours, all while you kept rambling. "Why in the world do you say that? Not good enough for me? If anything it's me who isn't deserving of you..."

"No, you-"

He stopped you in your tracks just by saying your name in that beautiful way he does. Like its covered in honey and dripping with admiration.

"You are everything. You may think those things about yourself but I certainly don't." His thumb caressed your bare skin so carefully as he continued, speaking slowly so as to allow the words to really sink in. "You are the most generous person I've ever encountered. You care so deeply about people you love. You are courageous and willing to try all the weird foods I suggest even though you really don't want to." He smirked a bit at that one. "You have taken everything that life has thrown at you and navigated it with grace. You really are just... you're it. You're her. You're the girl - the woman - I've always hoped would come my way but never dreamed actually would. Honey, I've figured out everything I need to know when it comes to how I feel about you."

You sat there, warm under his embrace, pondering his words as he spoke. It's nothing he hasn't said before, granted, in much less grand and emotionally charged ways. But it was like you were really hearing it for the first time. You wanted so badly to believe him.

"I love you," he continued. "I love you so much that sometimes I am afraid of myself. Of what I'd do for you. You, god, you make me so much better."

"I love you, too. Too much," you squeaked out.

"No. Not too much." He leaned back to encourage you to look up at him. "You know I really mean all that right? Just the way you are. Quirks included?"

"I guess. And now I'm just self-conscious that I am so self-conscious..."

"You say that as if I'm not the exact same way!" he chuckles, trying to make light of what is clearly a shared wound. You'll deal with that later. Together, preferably. "Please, trust me. Do you trust me?"

And you did. You trusted Spencer with every cell in your body and hair on your head. There was nobody else you'd ever been so confident in. So, you nod against his chest as your tears begin to subside.

"Good. Now why don't we move this party up into the bed?"

"No offense, Spencer, but the last thing I want right now is to f-"

"No no no nooope! Not that, babe," he laughed. "Just wanna lay with you 'til this feeling passes. Is that okay?"

"Please."

And so, the rest of the evening consisted of cuddles under your massive comforter. Sweet admissions whispered in your ear. The tiniest kisses to your hairline and your shoulder and your nose and your wrists.

By the time you dozed into a worry-free slumber, you believed him a little more.

Perhaps you could let Spencer love you, forever.

[yawujin]

could you do dangonronpa v3 cast x reader where the reader gives them a love note and when they give it to them they run away

i love this idea !! ofc i can do it ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )

💭 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ drv3 cast reacts to being given a love letter

type | react , reader insert , love confessions , cute , no killing game

author's note* just testing out a (slightly) different format for my posts. feedback is appreciated and welcomed !! thank you

shuichi saihara ♥︎

he thinks he knows what it is , but wants to check with them to see if he's correct in his assumption. they've completely disappeared so now he can't :( he tries to hide his excitement. he's opening the letter awkwardly, doing his best to ignore the shakiness of his hands. he reads the letter to himself, in his head. his calm expression from before changes into a soft smile while he spends the rest of his day reading it over and over. he'll need some time to think about what he's going to say to them in response...

rantaro amami ♥︎

"oh? is this for....me?" he's seen that they've already ran off, leaving him all alone with this letter. he opens it , careful to not tear the envelope too much (he'll probs reuse to send a postcard later on) he's kind of flustered upon reading it at first, but as he reads on, he gets happy. he feels himself become warm. it's a nice type of warm. he basks in the feeling while he thinks of what he could possibly say in response to their love note 💭

kiibo ♥︎

he's legit so happy. he's never gotten a love letter before, so imagine his surprise when they slip one into his hands and run away. he's kind of sad that they ran before he had a chance to speak with them, tell them about how much he appreciates it. nevertheless, he reads it. then reads it again, and again. and oh how excited he is to make one in response telling them exactly how he feels!

korekiyo shinguji ♥︎

it's a new, and rather exciting thing for kiyo to receive this letter. he doesn't think of them rude to just run off after handing it ovee to him, instead adding to their mystique. perhaps, they just wanted him to take the contents of their letter all in, all by himself. either way, he reads it and holds it close to his chest. by dawn, he will have his response. he just needs to have a long brainstorm about what he's going to say

kaito momota ♥︎

kaito is shouting at them to come back so he can read and react to it with them still there. but alas, they still leave and kaito is left with nothing but an envelope and some mixed feelings. he decides to open it in his room. when he does read the note, he's yelling excitedly, dancing in place with the note still in hand. he only stopped when he realized he needs to think of a response ASAP so he can tell him how feels by tomorrow

gonta gokuhara ♥︎

gonta wants to thank them for the letter, but they've already taken off. he frowns but opens the letter right away anyway. his frown only turns into a smile the more he reads. he feels appreciated more than anything. he begins writing a letter of his own right away!

ryoma hoshi ♥︎

ryoma, although confused, doesn't mind so much that they suddenly took off. his focus is on tentatively taking the note out of the envelope so it doesn't tear. he begins to read it. he pulls his beanie down to hide his face, and starts to walk off as well. he really hopes nobody saw how red he turned. he's going to be thinking about this for the rest of the week. after he feels less embarrassed, then he'll respond.

kokichi ouma ♥︎

he lowkey wants to start chasing them just to mess with them but decides not to. he needs to get this envelope open straight away! he tears it open the same way a kid would tear open a gift on christmas morning. in all honestly, he thought it would be some prank...so when it turned out to be a genuine love note from them. he didn't really know what to say or do. he'll most likely tease them about how quickly they ran off, not really knowing of any other way to confront them about this

kaede akamatsu ♥︎

she tries thanking them for their letter right then and there, but they run off while she's doing so. she kind of just shrugs it off and gets to opening up the envelope. she's like :o as soon as she sees what's inside. she thinks their note is totally cute! and she *needs* them to know it, too. she's on her way to tell them about how she feels.

tsumugi shirogane ♥︎

"oh dear...." she sighs, watching them run away from her. the anticipation of what could possibly be waiting for her in this letter is killing her so she gets it open soon after they leave.

on the outside she's a blushing mess but inside she's an even bigger mess. she's happy that they took the time to write this note but also kind of lost on what she's going to say in response...she's never received something like this before

miu iruma ♥︎

at first, she's kind of laughing because of how fast they ran away. she thinks they're a bit of a scaredy cat even though she would probably do the same thing 🤭 her cockiness gets shut down quick as soon as she reads what is on the note. she genuinely stunned , and she stays like that for the rest of the day. the girl genius' brain can only work so hard. she sleeps on what her response is going to be and writes it the following morning.

angie yonaga ♥︎

doesn't mind too much that they ran off as soon as they slipped her the note. she waits until after she's prayed to open it up. she reads it happily and then begins to doodle a response on the back of the note, fully planning to give it to them the next day. she wants to see their reaction.

maki harukawa ♥︎

was about to ask them what the note is about before they ran off but it was too late. she's skeptic on what's inside so she hesitantly opens it up. she reads it over, becoming half anxious, half flustered. she touches her hair to calm her nerves. she gives another read so she's certain that all she read wasn't just her eyes playing tricks on her. later, that same day, maki sits down to write a very formal response to them.

tenko chabashira ♥︎

she doesn't know why exactly they just handed this letter over to her and ran, but she's yelling out a 'THANK YOU!" for it. the more she reads , the more she gets excited. she doesn't care about how loud she's getting because her focus is all on the contents of the note. she's going to punch something out of pure excitement!! she's going to make her response as if it was an emergency.

himiko yumeno ♥︎

as she watches them run away, she asks: "nyeh? why me?" after some time of debating whether or not she should read the note, she does. she feels herself getting embarrasingly flustered. she is a little surprised though considering she didn't need to cast a love spell on anyone to receive a note like this this time.

[dailyramona]

[wtchrinthesky]

Summer, Highland Falls

Relationship: Sydney Adamu/Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto

Rating: Unrated, but the constant use of "fuck" might bump it up to Mature

Additional Characters: Natalie "Sugar" Berzatto, Richard "Richie" Jerimovich

Words: ~2.5k

Tags: Hospital Setting, Friends to Lovers (open to interpretation tbh), Songfic (kind of)

Summary: Sydney and Carmy wait to meet Baby Bear.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck!

Expletives are the only thing on Carmen’s mind when he gets the call from Pete that Baby Bear has been welcomed into the world. Rochelle Alexandra, after he and Sugar’s grandmother and Pete’s mom. 3:13am, 8 pounds, 11 ounces. 

Carmy wants to die when he walks into the waiting room. The hospital is warm, almost stifling. Natalie is still recovering, and visitors aren’t technically allowed until eight, relays the gentle woman in scrubs that looks like Claire until he blinks extra hard. He feels a ball of concrete drop in his gut when he meets the scalps of Tina, Neil, Theo, Richie, Sydney, their noses all buried in their phones. Pete had mentioned that Donna was there, too, which made Carmy extra want to die, but the feeling settles the slightest bit in his mother’s absence. He feels guilty for the relief. 

He does not want to be here. 

As the stiff pleather cushion exhales from the weight of his body when he sits, his right foot starts bouncing against linoleum, his fingers worry his cupid’s bow like bricks very shittily falling into place. The Faks are the first (and only) to greet him, boisterous as ever, to which he reciprocates with a nod and a small “hey.” He can’t peel his eyes away from the dove-with-olive-branch pattern on Sydney’s scarf. He wants to kick himself, run for the hills, maybe go and give the third rail of the L a real big hug. He wants to be anywhere other than here. 

He has to be here. He owes it to Nat. He gets that feeling at the nape of his neck, cool and foreboding, the very same that made him observe Mikey’s funeral from the driver's seat of his car. He can’t watch both death and birth from the sidelines. It’s unfair, plain and simple.

Carmy screws his eyes shut and takes a breath, letting the smell of hand sanitizer and the sound of monitors beeping in the distance grab hold of him and yank him toward something more grounding. His eyes open to stare at the fabric wrapped around his chef de cuisine’s braids. It helps. He fucking sucks. God, he sucks. He feels guilty all over again for something he’s not sure of. Familiar voices get distant as they meander out of glass sliding doors for a cigarette. He’d join if he wasn’t absolutely sure he’d book it as soon as his shoes hit concrete.

Somebody coughs. He sits across from his penance, beautiful, wrapped in silk and down-packed pine green polyester. Linoleum walkways split them apart like the Red Sea, a testament to his obsession for perfection. He wants so badly to get a star, to get three, to scoop Michelin galaxies from the fucking skies if it means she’s happy. If it means she’s inspired, if it means she won’t leave. It’s all for her, and that makes things infinitely worse, knowing all he’s done was push her away and make her feel small. 

The consequences of his own actions taunt him, because he loves her, and she does not deserve that. She does not deserve the pollution he brings with everything he does, she does not deserve to be tainted. Barolo Chinato splashes across marble. The setting is ironic considering how fucking sick of himself he is. 

Sydney is running. Sydney is scared, and when she gets scared, she trips over her own feet fleeing. 

The sound of her father’s CPAP machine always made her feel like a coward. Maybe– no, she is definitely one, because even now she’s running. Is there a difference between feeling disrespected and being a quitter? The answer should be obvious, you’re not quitting if it’s out of self preservation, but she always has to make things infinitely more complicated. She digs herself into a hole and then gets mad because she didn’t think she’d need a ladder. Carmy is the same way, she thinks, and gets pissed all over again because he’s been such a dick lately. Like, seriously, she can only pretend to know what’s crawled up his ass and died. She wants to grab him by the ears and shake his head around like a jar of loose pennies. She’s running because she’s scared. Scared of him, i.e., how she feels about him. Scared of what will happen if she stays. Scared of her suspicions being right, that this is more than it really is. 

This is the thing, baby. 

Sydney doesn’t remember her mother very well, but often finds herself looking to her for guidance. It’s innate. The misty words of a lullaby, the only proof Mom ever existed beyond, well, Sydney’s own existence and Polaroids of her smiling face, ring in her mind: Will you carry the word of love with you? Will you ride the great white bird in together?

She constantly has to ask herself if every little thing she does, every choice she makes, are actions of love. The fact that she’s at this hospital at five forty seven in the fucking morning is definitely an action of love. Though, to be honest, it wasn’t like she was sleeping anyways, and newborn babies are kind of the cutest things ever, so it’s not like she’s turning down that opportunity. She has to face the music sometime. 

Her shoe scuffs across white tile and nudges Carmen’s own bouncing foot, willing it to stop. Is this an action of love? He looks up like she’s God and he’s a man that’s lost his faith. He’s always got these big, sad puppy eyes, like he’s surprised that people want shit to do with him. He never looks at her with vitriol, even when he’s over her shoulder during service telling her she’s too fucking slow. Even when he’s blowing up like one of those vinegar and baking soda volcanoes, all red-faced and flailing arms. He doesn’t always look at her soft, but he never looks at her hateful.

Right now, he looks at her like she’s the only thing in the world. It makes her gut tighten, the bile inside it curdle because it’s making it so hard to run. Maybe she wants to stay. Maybe it’d be self-sabotage. Maybe it’d make her a better person in the end. She can’t help wondering if Carmen’s confession under the table was entirely truthful. Sydney doesn’t know if he’s even capable of the truth, considering he’s been lying to himself since he left New York. 

A realization in the form of what feels like her heart growing three sizes just about knocks her off her metaphorical feet, bringing them to a halting stop. She cares about Carmen. Of course she cares about him, she’s cared about him since Eleven Madison Park, but like, she actually fucking cares. She wants to pour all the golden light from deep inside her to her palms and press it into his chest. She wants to free him from his burdens, or at the very least, offer him two extra hands to hold it all. She’ll forgive him over and over again, and it’d be like breathing. She wants to tell him the truth. 

That everything she does with him in mind is an action of love, even if it’s leaving.

“Uh,” She fumbles out instead, in an embarrassing excuse of a peace offering. “I’m doing the Mini. Do you have any ideas about sports organizations involving octagons?” 

Carmen blinks once. Another time. He’s completely thrown for a loop. He’d expected her to just quietly apologize and look back down at her phone. Sydney can tell from his face, once again disbelieving that someone’s making an active effort to talk to him.

“... What?”

“That’s the clue. Sports organization with an octagon.” Her jacket rustles when she shrugs and it’s music to his ears. Carmy sits back and interlocks his hands in his lap after rubbing his brow in thought, like the crossword was life or death. He reels his mind for any sports logos that are shaped like an octagon, and he thinks of ADT for some fucking reason, which is not at all related unless you count home security as a sport. 

Sydney waits for his answer. She’s so patient, and he doesn’t deserve it. If he was her, he would’ve bolted out of the Beef the second he saw his own face. 

“UFC.” He blurts, and a jazzy jingle plays quietly from her phone, and she smiles. He could have a coronary right now and die happy. 

“Nice.” Sydney praises quietly, her foot drawing back across the aisle to hook around the leg of her chair. It’d be insanely childish to play footsie with her, but it’s all Carmen wants to do if it means she’ll smile again and he gets to know it’s his fault. That he’s done the world a good service for once. He refrains, unworthy. 

Once the initial silence has broken, the next one that falls is horrid, so Sydney keeps the conversation going– for her own sake. She shifts, wincing briefly from the ass pain thanks to cheap hospital seats. 

“Uh, what– what do you think Nat’s kid is gonna call you?” 

Carmen was so caught up in the joy of Sydney’s presence that he entirely forgot the reason they were here in the first place. He picks at the dry flesh around a fingernail, growing afraid on his sister’s behalf. She’d called him one night in tears. I don’t know if I can do this, Carmy. Like, I don’t know if I can be a mom.

He didn’t know what to say. When someone is scared, and you don’t know what to say, it’s a good rule of thumb to tell them it’s gonna be alright, you’re gonna be alright, even if you feel like you’re lying. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Sugar wouldn’t be a good mom. There was not a doubt in his mind she’d be a good mom– Hell, she mothered him when Donna failed to. But the fact that he’d turned out how he did made his stomach churn. It wasn’t Nat’s fault, and he feels like a dick that his uncertainty even implied that. It was just… a lot of pressure.  

“Probably just.. Uncle Carmy.” He shrugs, finding solace in the space between Sydney’s eyebrows, which wrinkle when she furrows them in incredulity. Her cheeks dimple to accommodate a correspondent, disbelieving smile.  

“Not even, like, anything fun?” It was so easy to fall into banter with Carmen, even if the right thing to do was be furious at him for how he’d been acting these past few months. She’ll find time to pace in her apartment and scream into her hands about it later. 

Carmen makes a face like he’s being interrogated for a crime he didn’t commit.

“I– I don’t know. Maybe Uncle Bear. Maybe.” 

“Mmh.” Sydney nods and pushes her lips to the side, the digital pattern game she’d occupied herself with now abandoned in her lap. “I don’t even know if I’ll get to be an aunt. I just hope, like, the kid doesn’t say my name wrong, and then I’m stuck as, like.. Bibby for the rest of my life.”

“That’s..” Carmy lets out a soft breath of a chuckle. “I– I mean, okay.”

Syd sits up better and leans toward him briefly, her face almost accused. “What?! Don’t laugh, it’s a genuine concern to have!” 

She can’t help laughing, either. Maybe because it really is silly. Maybe because Carmen is contagious, sticking to her brain like beautiful Tuscan algae to the bottom of a pool. Sydney doesn’t think she ever wants to scrub it off. She’s sick in the head, she ultimately decides. 

Eight A.M. finally rolls around and the Bear's inner circle walk in a cluster down the halls of the maternity ward to Natalie’s room. Tina and Sydney chat quietly, the Faks loudly, both harboring excitement at the new addition to the family. Richie is quiet for once in his fucking life, hasn’t regarded Carmy the entire time he’d been there, aside from brief sidelong glances. He jolts when Richie’s shoulder bumps into his, barely playful. Still mad, but out of love. 

“You nervous, cousin?” He mumbles, perhaps out of respect to new, sleeping mothers. Anyone who knew him could tell he was thinking about the last time he walked down this corridor. 

Carmen shrugs because it’s the safe thing to do, running his fingers across closed lips. His eyes glitter when Sydney rolls her head back in laughter at something stupid Neil had said. “I mean– I dunno. It’s weird, ‘cause it’s like.. Real. Now. I guess.” 

“Yeah, I get that.” Richie nods, unable to restrain himself from tickling Carmen’s face with the “It’s a girl!” teddy he’d bought in the hospital gift shop. Carmy bats it away, muttering “fuck off,” even if he’s smiling. 

He knows the anger won’t go forgotten, and that doesn’t upset him because Richie has a right. But they’re happy for Natalie, and that feeling seems to permeate throughout the entire hospital, full to bursting as his sister says his name and dubs him "Uncle Carmy" like he'd hoped. Doubt completely goes out the window when she asks him if he wants to hold the baby first, fixes his arms to support her head. Sydney briefly peeks over his shoulder, face contorting like she’s hurt by how adorable Baby Bear is. 

“Holy shit,” Carmen mutters, as a newborn fist grasps his finger. Her fingernails are so small, he thinks. Do not fucking drop her, for the love of God, he thinks next. He’s sure his worry is palpable, because Nat takes her back within seconds and sets her in the warmed bassinet beside the hospital bed. 

“She looks like a ham.” Sydney coos endearingly, her grin nearly face-splitting as she curls a finger in front of the baby’s sleeping face. “What color are her eyes?”

“Blue, but I think they’re gonna get darker like Pete’s.” Natalie relays softly, squeezing the hand of her husband. 

The conversation melts in Carmen’s ears, distant and muddled. It’s pleasant, for once. He doesn’t know the last time he’s felt this good, and he finds himself staring at Syd’s profile while she speaks. He doesn’t know if the resentment will return once the little welcoming party ends. He hopes that it doesn’t, not out of worth for Sydney’s care, but a yearning for it. Morning light pours through the room filled with sweet words and laughter, swathing the only important thing in Carmy’s life with rays of sunshine. It pools on her face like honey, and her eyes crinkle when she turns back to meet his gaze. Carmen doesn’t know if it’ll get better. 

All he knows is he needs her. 

[interstellarz]

[catboyklug]

sam & max hcs

title

this is specifically for sam & also max bc im most confident w my interpretations of them but once i play & finish tdp i'll make a post for every single other character .

quick disclaimer that this is for my sorta-AU thing where i make sense of the games and cartoon and comics by saying that each was an autobiographical (or just biographical) piece of media that they signed their rights away to. the comics were more or less exactly what happened, the cartoon was scripted half the time (with the bad day on the moon episode actively having been staged) and the games are more or less 1:1 to what happened except for the occassional references to them being. games.

also this isnt a totally exhaustive list

sammy

canon to get it outta the way: he's black, bisexual, autistic and might be trans & objectum (i hc him to definitely be the last two lmao) . i hc he has Narcissistic Traits tee em and also might have OCD

he started developing arthritis in his 20's, which was made only worse by his horrible posture due to his career path of Massive Fucking Nerd. though he fixed his back posture-wise by the time he formed the freelance police, he still is in a lot of pain near constantly.

even when he makes jokes, he wants to be taken seriously at all times. he wants you to laugh at his cleverness, not at the fact that you find him inherently funny. he tends to take this a bit far sometimes, which is part of one of the many reasons as to why he treated max so terribly in the early telltale games

since he was a pup he's tried to hide the fact he's bisexual, even if he's completely normal abt max being out as gay and doesn't see an issue with it in any sense of the term

he really wanted to be an engineer for years, but the intense sexism of the field, a desire to stick around with max, and the fact that other jobs would pay him better lead him to abandon the thought

though he wouldn't mind having children, he doesn't actively want them as much as max does. this doesn't mean he dislikes children at all, though - he actually likes them more than max does, at least conceptually

not too long after the cartoon's release, he lost contact with most of his family, excluding ruth. this was fully intentional on his part: max's refusal to talk to his family except at gatherings he stole food and drugs from inspired him to take more control of his life and contact with people he's related to

he sort of wants to grow his hair out again, but isn't sure what style to get... (i like drawing him w afros though)

completely opposite to max's feelings, sam feels a strictly familial or platonic attraction to lumpy. and platonic being based offa that plato fun fact is very very definitely relevant here i think (im sorry)

if he went with any other job, it'd have to be letterist, full stop. he has several styles of handwriting and they're all gorgeous

he's a super sweet, incredibly silly drunk, and lets himself relax and show more of his dog mannerisms when drunk enough (thank you celebrity poker 2 i love you)

maxamillion

canonically a narcissistic psychopath who might have schizophrenia. its ok i can reclaim him<333 (no i cant but my partner can) he also has a horrible family life but his family stuck together out of mutual hatred and a desire to reap society's rewards for the nuclear standard

this horrible shithead has prolly claimed to have every physical disability at some point but he's only been diagnosed w/ hypermobile joint disorder / ehler-dahlos

in the more modern time of 2024, he usually sticks to only mocking people for things that are a. traits he shares with them or b. actually disturbing, inhumane or generally Yucky

he's wanted kids for years, which is why he's constantly not-so-subtly mentioning it.

he's a deeply unprofessional drag queen AND drag king and loves playing around with both sides of the coin. he also does drag creature stuff but that's just how he normally looks so!

thanks to the autism and schizophrenia he's very touch averse. the only people he really wants touching him are sam (and sometimes, maybe, rarely, flint paper)

to say that he doesn't have any familial affection for lumpy is understating it. he uses lumpy as his personal (and fully consenting) stimtoy whenever he feels like it, regardless of where or who might see 'em.

he sometimes pretends he's still president to make people do stuff for him. this only works on sam though

though he's physically capable of handwriting so gorgeous it rivals sam, he saves that for the disgustingly cheesy, 'anonymous' love letters he sends him every year or seven

he's a mainer. a mainiac if ya will. grew up closer to the south and he's got some relatives from mass so he's got that masshole/bostoner accent. he's usually good at hiding his accent, but it's obvious when you ask him to say shit like "clam chowder" and "lobster" and "fish"

though he hates most country music, he still loves johnny cash

HES A SYSTEM BTW!!!!

botha them

they invented paralell play. sam w his computers and his papers and max with his drawing and stabbing the desk until it looks like a modern art piece

they're both extremely jealous of other people, but somehow have both missed that. sam's worried he's too jealous and overprotective, while max thinks he could stand to be a little more obsessive

one of their favorite things to do together is go to the comic book store and laugh at how horrible their childhood favorite comics have gotten (or always were)

every wedding shown is canon in some way, but around the telltale games sam started thinking they were just 'ironic' and 'a joke' and etc. despite the EXTREMELY high budget each had. he knows better now

max's whole "not making fun of anyone unless they're enough like him (or suck)" actually extends to sam as well. he's more than fine with making fun of someone bc they're fat or whatever despite the fact he clearly isn't. this is MOSTLY because he keeps forgetting he and sam don't share every single experience.

though sam is against drinking as a whole, the two sometimes go out to horribly shitty bars to get the worst in junk food & beer. every time they do, max happily proclaims that it was the best date EVER.

max almost likes sam's singing, sometimes, but this is usually only because he just really likes sam's voice

neither of them know how to use modern technology. when one finds out a single way a single program or feature works, they excitedly show the other like they just found the missing link between humans and neanderthals or whatever

sam helps with max's injections since max really seriously can't handle needles. it's the worst for the both of them, but the treats and snacks and ten-hour-long movie binges after help with the fear

generally speaking, max can get up and out of bed any time from around 6 to 13. sam gets up at 6:30 or 7:45 exactly every day, which means he usually makes breakfast if he feels up to cooking.

other than the aforementioned horrible bars, they have a lot of 'weird' date locations, like the dog park, the local sewer system, hell, etc.

yeay

[musings-n-museums]

welcome to the museum

Hi there! I'm Izzie, the owner & author of Musings & Museums. This is my Tumblr blog used for creating web weavings, sharing some really cool stuff, and just having a more open place to post aside from my other weekly blog.

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If you want weekly posts about art history + art philosophy + my life, please consider subscribing to my blog!

Here's my blog link!

[astromiya]

SPARKLING, CRACKLING, LITTLE FIREWORKS!

YOIMIYA ! co-owner of astronetwrk with @astrokuni & @astrolors!

₊⊹✧ she/her, call me if you need me!

❇ likes : fireworks !!!! shiny things, and hanging out with lady furina!

❇ dislikes : kuni's attitude.

₊⊹✧ 1800-YOIMIYA'S-LOVE!

💫 keeping up with astro 💫 – anything to do with the network!

❇ yoimiya's chatlog! ❇ – responding to asks, my rambles, general posts!

[enchantedstarfish]

"Can't believe i made something so sweet"

"Think it's bout time I put a baby in my baby."

Ahhhhhh!!!! Moony, you are everything to me. I love this so much. Obessed with this au, forbidden au is new obsession. Also I'm never ever ever getting over the line "I put a baby in my baby." AGHHH, IT'S SO GOODDDD

forbidden au trailer park!jj - cw incest

"just relax for me. hold it open, yeah just like that." jj pushed your thighs closer to your chest, his large tattooed hands a stark contrast to your unblemished skin as he tightened his hold with a groan, watching you drip onto your soft sheets, "you're fuckin perfect you know that? can't believe i made somethin so sweet."

your brows furrow, despite the blood rushing in your ears you feel put off, "what do you mean?"

he glances back up at you, quick and anxious before he plasters a smile on his face, "just feel like i dreamt you up. pretty little thing like you...pretty pussy just beggin for it." bending forward he nips at your plush thighs making you gasp as he sucks a hickey onto your skin, "think it's bout time i put a baby in my baby.

without warning the pushes in, stretching you faster than you're ready for, "wait! fuck-you're hurting-"

you're silenced with a kiss, one much softer and sweeter than you expected with the way he's pushing against your cervix.

"just relax cupcake, papa's gonna take care of you."

[ingeniumstan]

All of my drs :)

fun fact, i actually have the green crutches all the way to the left of the third pic :)

- BNHA / MHA DR

- Streamer DR

- British Teen Streamer DR

- Descendants DRs | I / II

- Figure Skating DR

- Hockey DR

- 2009 Phan DR

- DSMP DR

- Total Drama Island DR

- Royalty DR

- Furry DR

- MCR DR

- Fame DR

- Broadway DR

- Gravity Falls DR

- Spiderverse DR

- Boarding School DR

- The Bad Guys DR

- HP Universe DRs | I / II / III / IIII

- my secret drs >:)

[nectardaddy]

B.I.L.L.S , t. hanamaki

american hero. . . b.i.l.l.s. by towa bird

If I had a dollar then I wouldn't have to bother 'bout the bills. I'm so tired of paying rent.

pairing : hanamaki takahiro x f!reader

cw/notes : poverty/financial insecurity, conversation about/wishing for "what could be" (and a deep dive into the feeling of wanting), use of the pet name "sweetheart," humor as a coping mechanism, language, eating used as a metaphor, lots of metaphors in general, established long-term relationship, I am genuinely very proud of this fic so if you got tagged out of the blue that's why <3

word count : 2.6k

The apartment was dingy and run down, a muted tone of gray that submerged the entire cramped space into desolace. A desolace that bled into the other rooms, through the floorboards, through every nook and cranny of the compact unit - through the bones of the pair that inhabited it. Pictures and posters littered the drab walls. Old developed pictures and various music flyers stuck to drywall with bits and pieces of scotch tape - real frames were far too expensive - as they tried desperately to combat the dreary aura of the space. 

But it was difficult to fight against such longing; around every corner being yet another issue that would only ever be resolved with the one thing the pair didn’t have: funds. Air conditioning that went out every other month, as the landlord was too stingy to really fix it and complained with every call and maintenance request about the issue. Mold in the air vents, water pressure that was just short of a small stream, a lock on the door that barely bolted with a small chain lock that was used as a "replacement" that didn't really do anything. It reeked of dust and mildew, a musty smell that lingered no matter how many candles were lit and blown out. And trial and error to shut the, horribly painted, bedroom room; over the months they learned to turn the knob and slam rather than just slam. 

It was a constricted, at times uncomfortable; limited space meaning old cardboard boxes stayed within the living area or bedroom - mementos gathered dust that all but covered the unit entirely. Memories shoved in a box that would barely ever see the light of day, or simply, didn’t want to. Such a place didn’t deserve such warmth. A god forsaken space didn’t deserve the radiant coziness that came with trinkets and baubles, didn’t deserve the framed pictures - that would crash to the ground anyway, as the drywall often crumbled and fragmented - and surely didn’t deserve the mellow residents who resided in it. 

Both home from work, and both exhausted beyond belief, they sat together on an old, thrifted loveseat. A gaudy flower pattern that was stained and smelled of cigarettes from the latter owners, but a place to sit nonetheless. The man shuffled through a slew of mail, the woman, with her eyes closed and trying not to fall asleep right then and there, sat next to him. 

“I’m so fucking tired of paying this shit,” he grumbled before throwing the envelopes onto the rickety coffee table. A table that was discounted, dirt cheap, as one leg was cracked and wobbly. Oftentimes, it broke when too much weight was put on it, duct tape lined the connection between the leg and table itself. All it held was other envelopes - bills, an array of clipped coupons, and a long forgotten coffee cup, that’s rim was chipped and the handle cracked. 

“Then don’t,” the woman hummed in response, a cheeky reply to a serious notion. An exhaustion riddled in her voice that made him look over and sigh, heart strings pulled taut at seeing her weary form. “We can run away together and never have to see this shit hole again.” 

He stayed quiet for a moment, letting a pause settle between them. Allowed the sound of the fan in the far corner of the room to take over the silence he offered, the hum of it engulfed the room as it rotated to cool the entire apartment. “Maybe we should,” he sighed before a small smile pulled at his lips. “We can go off grid and everything, y’know they make shows about people that live like that, right? We could be famous.”

A breath of air passed through the woman’s nose as she chuckled, and she opened her eyes to look over at him. “You’re an idiot.” Even as she smiled at him, he couldn’t help but notice just how tired she looked. Her eyes were dark and hazy, unfocused even, as it seemed like all she wanted to do was close them again - to sleep. Her work uniform crumbled and wrinkled as she sat with her legs up on the small couch, too worn out to change upon coming, to what they reluctantly called, home. 

Home, to them, was coming back at odd hours. Never fully holding each other as the other had to whisk themselves away - to provide, to work. Times were fleeting, just as much as the money that came in. Gone within a second and drained from responsibilities. Every second together was taken with an ironclad grip, and sewn together with cups upon cups of coffee just to try and enjoy it all.

“Where would you want to go if we had the money to leave?” The off kilter question left his lips easily, without much thought put behind it. Because to him, that's all he ever thought about - leaving. He hoped one day he was able to scrape up enough funds, pack everything up, and leave the cramped unit all together with her by his side.

“Anywhere, honestly, this place sucks ass.” She groaned as she stretched her legs off the loveseat. A series of pops from overworked limbs hit his ears and made him frown - she didn't deserve to be this tired, not for this piece of shit apartment. Not for anything.

“I’m serious.” His normal, almost whimsical, tone went with the wind as he sat up a little straighter. He looked over to her with red tinged eyes, fatigued and strained, that swirled with an unforeseen worry.

“So am I.” A curt reply as she locked eyes with him. A realist, maybe a bit pessimistic to some, but the woman grounded herself in reality more than he. Didn't want to waste herself away with thoughts of what could be than what is. What could be was a sham, a figment of imagination she couldn't bear herself to think about often; as the thought of what is yanked her to the very pits of longing that she would later have to tear herself out of. 

“I know where I’d want to go.” A dream he hadn’t told her before, he wished he had the money to surprise her with it. But that day was far off in the distance, a mere glimmer of a memory, and he cracked under the pressure of wanting to share. At least this way, they could experience the dream together.

“Yeah? Where?” She closed her eyes again and let her head fall to his shoulder. 

“I’d want to go to Tokyo.”

She snorted at the thought, “spare me, Hiro, not this shit again.” A half hearted joke that landed a bit on edge, toed the line of snappy through drowsy laced words. A former wish she had heard before from him, a joke to only go to Tokyo to get piss drunk with friends. 

“No, not the bar hopping thing.” He assured and waved off the remark with a small chuckle. 

“Good, because you do that shit with Mattsun here anyway. You don’t need to drag me to Tokyo just for me to babysit you two idiots there.” Babysitting, truly, was an understatement to the woman. The thought made her cringe as she recalled past memories of his dear friend passed out in their bathroom, head in the toilet and completely out cold. 

“I want to take you to Ueno Park to see the cherry blossoms one day.” His voice was a twinge quieter than before, a bit breathless as he couldn’t believe himself for finally saying the dream aloud. Deep brown eyes shifted over to look at the woman, whose head still rested on his shoulder - completely silent.

The comment had her at a lack of words, letting another silence pass by them once more; but it lingered far too long. A silence that, as moments passed, began to have a weight to it and started to suffocate her. Every inhale became shallower than the last, and she couldn’t find it within herself to take a single breath more of the humid, musky air the apartment provided. She felt herself tumble into the gaping hole of wanting, needing, craving - pure, unbridled hunger for more than what is. A ravishing feeling that took her by the shoulders and shoved, falling head first into the empty, hollow feeling of what could be.

What could be was far from reality, what could be couldn’t happen.

She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked over at him, eyes a bit wider than before and lips parted through means to say something - nothing ever came. “You told me three years ago you wanted to do that.” Quiet words answered her unspoken question and she sucked in a breath. She remembered telling him that vividly, could recall the day to a tee as it held importance to her.

It rained that day, poured down onto the street as they ran back to their shared apartment - a better one than what they had now. Steps taken hastily, hand in hand, as he practically dragged her through the downpour with a laugh. Both forgot an umbrella, so they ran through the rain getting more and more soaked with every step. It wasn’t far from their unit, the pair only went down the street to a convenience store. But the storm they tried to outrun inevitability caught up with them, so the leisurely walk back home turned to a sprint.

Upon their return, they found themselves sprawled out on their bedroom floor. Their clothes drenched from rain and water puddled onto the hardwood underneath them. A silly action, to lay on the floor wet. But neither minded as they giggled and laughed with one another, enjoying the other’s company. 

Strawberry blonde hair stuck to his forehead and he raked a hand through it. A chuckle left his lips from an earlier conversation before he looked over at her once more, “if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you want to go?”

“What kind of question is that, Hiro?” A teasing tone laced within her cadence as she locked eyes with him. Bright and hopeful, full of love, and not an ounce of exhaustion swirling within them.

“One that I’m curious about, obviously, so indulge me.” The whimsy in his words was easily apparent, one of which she got used to quickly. And there was a sass in the timbre of his voice that muddled with care, a juxtaposition to his usual standalone brassiness. 

“What’s yours?”

“This isn’t about me, it’s about you.”

He watched the woman smile before she averted her eyes to the ceiling, scrunched her brows in thought a moment before she looked at him once more. “Probably Ueno Park, in April, to see the cherry blossoms.”

“Are you serious? Anywhere in the world, and you want Tokyo?” He never looked away from the woman throughout the conversation, and when she met his gaze once more he smiled. 

“Did you ask just to make fun of me, asshole?”

“No, god no.” He laughed, lips pulling into a silly smile before he took her hand in his own. “I’m just trying to figure out where I should ask you to marry me one day.”

The inescapable feeling of want consumed her, leaving nothing left behind as she was swallowed whole. A swirling sensation in her stomach that sickened her, made her ill to think about too long as all she could do was stare at him. “Takahiro.” Her words fell to a whisper as eyes flickered between his own, desperately trying to gauge the situation but to no avail. “You can’t be serious?”

“As a heart attack, sweetheart.” The smile he had started to falter, and the concern that saturated her eyes made his heart sink. But through that concern, the smallest, most miniscule, glimmer of need shone through. Even through tired, bloodshot eyes and a tinge of cynicism, she wanted the dream just as much as he, if not more.

“Hanamaki,” she breathed. “Be real for a second-” But she was cut off as he turned to face her, the old loveseat squeaking under the shift of weight, and he took her hands in his own

“I am being real, so put that name away.” Erring on defensive, put a care behind it that she couldn't ignore. A rare seriousness in his voice that made her swallow hard. “I’m taking you to see those damn cherry blossoms at some point, and when I do I'm asking you to marry me.” 

She opened her mouth to say something but promptly shut it, not knowing what to say to the man. But she felt as the ravenous feeling turned to a starved, almost primal, one. Felt her stomach twist into knots at the thought - she wanted to swallow the notion completely. Needed to feel the crunch and snap of it in her mouth, wanted her teeth caught in it, needed it to be consumed until nothing was left. She abstained from could be for too long and needed to devour the concept entirely. 

But could be wasn’t what is. What is left a bruise, tender and raw, that left a rotten taste in her mouth. She felt the urge to spit out the thought as it circled within her mind like a vulture, ready to dive within a split second. “But-”

“We will, I swear.” He cut off her protest and squeezed her hand. But to no avail, as she only looked at him with a sense of apprehension.

“But we're-” 

“I know, I know,” he sighed. Brown eyes slid over to the envelopes on the coffee table, bold red letters catching his attention that made him close his eyes. “Believe me, I know.” A disheartening belief that caused him to take a deep breath before opening his eyes again to look at her. He brought a hand to her cheek, pale fingers gently brushed over her skin with a warmth that was inviting, loving, and selfless. He gave her a small, out of sorts, smile, “but I want to do this. For you. For us. Hell, because we deserve to do something nice. I want us to have something to look forward to other than the same, shit ass, walls everyday.” 

She paused a moment, let his words sink in, before she bit down hard on the concept and refused to let go. “Ok,” she nodded carefully. “Alright, we’ll go to Ueno Park one day.” Could be tasted sweet and savory, mouth watering to think about. It eased a craving that deflected from what is - so just this once, she let herself free fall into it. “Do you even have a ring to ask me with?” 

His smile pulled into a grin at her question, and he chuckled. “Would you say yes to a ring pop?”

With a paltry laugh, she leaned into his hand that was still on his cheek. “As long as it's strawberry, then absolutely, you dumbass.”

“Strawberry it is, sweetheart.” 

However, he didn’t really need the sweet, confectionary ring. In one of the many old cardboard boxes within the living area and bedroom that collected dust - a particularly well kept, small box hidden in the back of their tiny, shared closet - was a ring he bought three years ago. Bought shortly after the conversation was had, when he still had the money to stretch. Stuffed between memories that would barely ever see the light of day, because a place like this didn't deserve such warmth.

But the warmth was willingly given anyway, whether the pair knew it or not.

series taglist (open, send an ASK) + a few moots bc I am genuinely very very very proud of this

@causenessus @softpia @renardiererin @kodzu-ken @phoenix-eclipses

@wyrcan @honeekyuu @wakashudou @wolffmaiden @eggyrocks

@dailyakira @cupidsblonde @mollyrolls @wolffmaiden @zumicho

@jadeoru @sandwhitches

[hometobeer]

♡ if madison beer was your girlfriend ... ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

[kirishwima]

Soph's Super Serious Pinned Section (Under construction)

Soph, 18+ (Age in bio)

About

Comission Info

Ko-fi

JJK Masterlist

HQ! Masterlist

Mysme Masterlist

** More to be added soon **

[theregressionlibrary]

Agere/petre archieve promo post!!

Hi! Thought it was a good time to do one of these! So, if you don't know, this is The Regression Library! Here, we reblog and boost lovely age and pet regression related works such as fiction, headcanons, moodboards, audio recordings- anything!

A lot of people are too afraid to post their fandom regression stuff in the main tags and if a work is completely from scratch then it often struggles to get traction! So what TRL does is reblog and tag works accordingly and add them to our big big list so it's easy for people to find what they can enjoy!

Why send out a promo post? Well, to encourage people to submit more! As much as we love to go out and collect pieces ourselves, we can only search through so many tags. There are just so many different ways different people use tagging, and it's hard to think of all the different pieces of media out there that might have these themes! So! We would love for you and your friends to submit (by ask or DM) any works you have made or you have found. Original works or fandom related is great! Hope to see you soon!

*cough cough, please reblog*

[interstellarz]