#give me that hope you promised

[ziipzeepzop-eez]

S'much as I hate funerals, virtual or in person, I'm grateful for the opportunity to see you off.

The losses may be plentiful, but if there's one thing it taught me: it's strength.

Avoidance? Repression? Numbness? A foreign body giving themselves to protect their own.

How much longer will it hurt? It hurts and hurts until it can't anymore. Then, when you feel coherent again, it slams into your side. Your blind side.

Maybe all these things. But I feel strong and coherent right now, if only a little dead, a little broken, a little stop hurting me please inside.

Bless you. Thank you.

I love you.

(I'm sorry we couldn't be there, uncle. Rest gently. We'll honor you the same way you honored our clan.)

[chloesimaginationthings]

Michael Afton draws FNAF tape girl for Vanessa,,

[heartorbit]

bugs when you lift up a rock

[missingn000]

hey all! i wrote a what-if character study & action fic for if king fought sanji instead of zoro during the raid on onigashima. i'd really love if you gave it a read! thanks so much!

link

playlist

happy reading!

[a2zillustration]

I carried this thing for MONTHS with the EXPRESS PURPOSE of putting Raphael in it (knowing full well Larian wouldn't let me do that, mechanically) and I had one major miscalculation.

| First | | Previous | | Next |

[[ All Croissant Adventures (chronological, desktop) ]]

[[ All Croissant Adventures (app) ]]

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

thinking about how mulder loves to get scully a gift, usually terribly heartfelt, even if disguised as something flippant:

the superbowl vhs tape he brings her when she wakes up from her coma in one breath (and her deadpan "i knew there was a reason to live")

tickets for a football game to watch together in irresistible

bringing her flowers to the hospital in memento mori (he lies, saying he stole them from a guy with broken legs to make her laugh)

the birthday keychain in tempus fugit (and when she finds a meaning to it, he claims "i just thought it was a pretty cool keychain")

that is a man who is always thinking about her.

[honnelander]

asdfghjkl I love your writing. Your Sanji & reader have my heart forreal 🫶🏼✨ keep up the great work 😘

Suggestion: reader having a niche hobby (like knitting/crocheting, or collecting shells, anything really LOL 😆 your choice) and Sanji’s reaction to that

you are soooo sweet thank you!! this request/suggestion was so cute, i loved it.

when i read "collecting shells" i immediately knew what i wanted to write for it and this is how i think go fish!Sanji would react to reader collecting sea shells as a niche hobby:

masterlist

When you had started collecting shells, it didn't start out as a hobby, far from it in fact. You didn't even know collecting sea shells was considered a hobby until Luffy pointed it out to you.

"Oh, wow! You collect shells y/n? How cool!" Luffy gushed with his signature bright smile that lit up his face. That's one of the things you loved about Luffy, he had the ability to make any rudimentary task seem like the most special thing ever. "What a cool hobby!"

And that was when your shell-collecting hobby was born. At first, you had just wanted a souvenir of some sort, just wanting a small piece of each island you visited so you could look back at your collection one day and remember all of the places you've ever been to.

It was something very special to you. So imagine how you felt when you nearly forgot to grab a shell one day, during a routine island pit stop to restock the ship's supplies, when the weather suddenly took a turn for the worst just as the straw-hat crew was making their way towards the ship.

You liked to grab a shell right before you left. Usually, you had your routine: you would go to the closest beach to where the Going Merry was docked at, take a moment to survey the assortment of shells scattered along the beach, and pick out the shell that most reflected your either long or short time on the island. You loved it.

But during that particular trip, your shell-collecting routine didn't go as planned and you nearly had a heart attack at the thought of missing a shell.

The weather had suddenly turned for the worst as you and the crew were walking back towards the Merry. All of a sudden, it started to downpour so everyone decided to run back to the ship as fast as they could before all of the ship's supplies got ruined (well, everyone except for Zoro, who was already back on the ship with his stuff, not wanting to stick around on any island longer than he had to).

As you all were running up the plank to board the ship one by one, Luffy suddenly called out to you from the dock as you tailed behind Nami with Sanji right behind you.

"Wait! Y/n!" he called out and you stopped at the top of the plank to look back at him through the rain. "What about your sea shell? Don't forget to go and grab one!"

You gasped and your eyes widened. Your heart nearly dropped at the thought of forgetting to grab a shell and in turn, forgetting all about your visit to this island. "My shell!"

"Your what?" Sanji asked loudly over the rain, next to you.

You quickly dropped your crate of supplies on the ship's deck, not caring anymore if they got wet or not. "I have to go get my sea shell!" you replied quickly, running past him and back to the dock.

"Don't worry, y/n, we will be waiting right here for you!" Luffy reassured with a nod. "Now go get your shell!" he yelled and raised his fist in the air.

You gave him a grateful smile as you dashed towards the nearest beach, Sanji watching you go with a curious look in his eye before bringing your supply crate inside and out of the rain.

That night, as Sanji was cleaning up the kitchen, you were still at the table finishing up the warm soup he had made that night for dinner (he loved that you were a slow eater, it meant that most nights he got to spend a little bit of extra alone time with you in his favorite place), he asked you about your niche hobby.

"Feeling better now?" Sanji asked, breaking the comfortable silence as he cleaned off one of his knives with a rag, sneaking a look at you with a small smile. "All warmed up from being out in the rain too long?"

You hummed in agreement. "Absolutely," you nearly purred in delight (Sanji felt his heartbeat stutter for a second at your tone. He's never heard you like that before). You looked at the chef with gratitude. "Your food always hits the spot Sanji, but the soup you made tonight just hit differently. It warmed me right up."

"Ok good," Sanji laughed softly, looking at you for a few seconds through his blonde hair, and flicked it to the side slightly. "I can't have you getting sick on me now." He finished cleaning off the one knife, setting it down on the counter, picking up another to clean before he asked with a raised brow, "So, uh, why did you go back today? Something about a sea shell?"

And that's how he learned about your niche hobby.

You told him all about it; about how you wanted a small token from everywhere you've ever been, how long you've been doing it, described some of your favorite sea shells you've found so far, and how you couldn't wait to show your collection to your kids and grandkids someday and in turn, telling them all about your adventures with the straw hat pirates.

As Sanji listened to you explain your hobby to him, he couldn't help but smile to himself, stealing glances at you every so often. He loved listening to you talk about the things you were passionate about. He loved the way your face lit up and your eyes sparkled.

And for something as unique and special as this? He loved it even more because he knew that this little hobby of yours went way beyond just collecting shells, it was your own way of physically manifesting your hopes and dreams. Each shell you acquired was another story you would tell your future kids about. You were sharing a part of your soul with him, and Sanji was completely enamored.

From that night forward, Sanji had decided that he too would start a sea shell collection of his own, without you knowing, so that someday in the future, he could surprise you and your kids with it, with the beautiful sea shells he had secretly collected right alongside you, his future wife, the whole time.

He couldn't wait to see the look on your face someday.

taglist: @mischiefmanaged71 @smolracoon25 @smol-book-nerd @shuujin @amanda08319 @nimtano @your-platonic-gay-lover @lovelymrvl @whiskeypowder

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[god-syndicate-if]

Hello everyone! While ignoring something I wrote all day today and I'm proud to announce that the first draft of the prologue is officially done! I'm going to send it to the beta readers, do a solid amount of edits, and then I should be able to post it!

[avocado62524]

[xxplastic-cubexx]

bro the feminine wiles aren’t even a joke like. im with that anon who thought hellfire gala charles was a woman when they first saw him bc same, that design is insaaaane (/pos). how could u not think that when u see it lmfao. idk whose choice it was to give him a corset but the hourglass figure + female coded jawline combo do not lie. i saw it on pinterest and i was like ohhh don’t lie to me i know an anime girl when i see one- WAIT PROFESSOR X????

and that’s not even to mention movieverse charles ofc. we’ve all seen james mcavoy and his big sparkly kawaii anime eyes, i shouldn’t have to say it. charles xavier is never beating the allegations, i fear

gonna need this ask hung in the louvre i fear

[septimusmoonlight]

You doing ok?

hi

[setmeatopthepyre]

Bulwark

Push. Pull. Breathe.

One.

The ache would fade, he knew, told himself. It always did. Eventually. Even if it didn't go down without a fight. Especially then. Tommy had survived every heartbreak. Every loss. Every injury. Every siege. Until now. This one felt different, now, but it wouldn't be.

The ache would fade. It always did.

Push. Pull. Breathe.

Two.

He knew the steps. Breathe through it. Pull the air into his lungs. Deeper. Deeper. Pray for enough oxygen to sweep across his shores, erode the sharp edges of his feeling. Reach the brackish water inland and flood the sunken place inside of him. Push it back out, hope the floodwater spilling back out to sea took the rubble inside of him with it. Breathe. Deeper. Deeper. Never deep enough. Remind himself that he wasn't built to be washed clean, to gather sentiment like sediment. To feel. He was built to be a bulwark, a fortress. A wall against the tide. Strength carefully constructed to serve as protection. To withstand storms. Built for waves to crash against before they circled back to sea.

Push. Pull. Breathe.

Three.

He didn't need to do anything but breathe. Breathe through the shaking of his muscles, breathe, breathe, count breaths like reps. Out, in.

Push. Pull. Breathe.

Four.

Push. Pull. Feel.

Five.

Fuck.

The clang of iron on iron. Another stone in the fortification of his body. Another stone in the pit of his stomach. He just needed to breathe. He didn't need to feel. That's not what he was built for. That's not what they built him for. That's not - it's not what he built himself for. It might have been. It should have been. It isn't.

Chest heaving.

Breathe.

He was built to be up on the ramparts. Eyes in the sky. The lone watcher on the wall. Scanning for danger, always, always scanning for fucking danger. Don't feel, just breathe. Feelings cloud your judgment. It's not your job to feel.

From above, his job was to assess threats. From below, to be the last line of defense. Hold the line.

Always keep your head on a swivel. Eyes open.

He had. He did.

Breathe. Deeper.

Not too deep.

Hold the line. No matter what.

Hold the line.

Don't feel. Don't listen.

Don't listen to the snide voice in the back of his head, asking,

Alright, you perfect fucking soldier. What is there left to defend now?

--

bul·wark (bo͝ol′wərk, -wôrk′, bŭl′-) n.

1. A wall or embankment raised as a defensive fortification; a rampart. 2. Something serving as a defense or safeguard. 3. A breakwater.

[wisegirl-seaweedbrain]

and the crowd… exchanges confused glances?

[tj-crochets]

Okay now that the ant is almost done: any other requests for semi-realistic but improbably sized creature plushies? Reference images are, as always, a bonus but not required (even I cannot predict what I will make next, and so far at y'all's suggestion I've made a horseshoe crab and an ant in the last week lol)

[flowercrowngods]

making a real post for @rvspecter pls bear with me

anyway harvey hurt fic where after mike is busted and given a second chance at life (or a third, really) and pearson specter litt seizes the chance to instate a pro bono department mike is heading because he wants to get it right this time and harvey will do just about anything to keep him, these two men finally mention this Thing between them and decide to give it a try. and it’s good. it’s fragile and it’s tentative and it’s gentle and it’s the same as it’s always been but with more tenderness, more honesty, more vulnerability (and more sex of course) and it’s good. against all odds, it’s so good.

but then one day, long after hours, donna approaches harvey in his office and her eyes are shining, but it’s not a glow harvey is used to — he never wants to get used to donna’s eyes filled with tears so he asks her what’s wrong, but he’s not ready for the answer. because she tells him she can’t work for him anymore. she tells him she’s leaving him — to work for louis at first, maybe to quit altogether. the fact do the matter is she can’t be the Donna to his Harvey anymore because she’s in love with him and she thought she had it under control but she doesn’t, okay, she doesn’t and it hurts and she wants to be happy for him and mike because they’re so good but all this time she’d never thought that harvey would ever find someone real, and now that he has, well. she can’t pretend anymore that it doesn’t tear her up inside and she doesn’t want to put that on any of them so she’s doing the mature thing and leaving. to heal. to get over him. to come back stronger.

and she’s so, so sorry.

they listen to gordon one last time, they toast to thirteen years one last time — her words, not his, but they drive a knife into his heart nonetheless because harvey doesn’t do one last-anything and yet here sits his best friend and asks for one last night together and who is he but to give her everything she wants and more. she’s his donna — still, tonight; one last night. she is.

he doesn’t tell mike that night. couldn’t, even if he wanted to; because he doesn’t have the words. but in the secure hold of mike’s arms, he says “donna won’t be working for me anymore, starting tomorrow.” and he doesn’t mention how that means that donna went to jessica and louis first, he doesn’t mention that he was the last to know, he doesn’t explain how he wasn’t given a chance to fix this — not this time. “donna quit?” mike asks, and harvey swallows, shakes his head, shrugs. “just me,” he says. “just me.” and when mike pulls him closer and holds him tighter and tells him “i’m so sorry, harvey,” it’s the first i’m sorry that night that he believes.

unfortunately, sorry never fixed anything.

especially when soon after, mike finds out just why donna left. and he gets all up in his head about it, he allows himself to spiral because he’s so ready to succumb to tunnel vision and obsessing over solutions to problems that aren’t his to fix. and so he tells harvey that he can’t be the thing that comes between him and donna. they’re soulmates after all, mike can’t bear to be the one to sever their bond. harvey doesn’t understand. he’s the one who’s supposed to lose his mind over having lost his best friend and pretend like everything is okay, what right does mike have to make that about himself, to take it upon himself to fix everything when harvey’s the fixer, harvey is the one who solves problems and protects people. but mike won’t hear any of that and tells harvey that he can’t do it like this if it means hurting donna because she’s his best friend, too, and he wants to get it right this time. he doesn’t want to build this new life on decisions that hurt his people — not again. he’s hurt enough people, he can’t keep doing it.

harvey wants to ask him why he’s always so ready to protect everyone at his expense. isn’t this thing between them, their relationship, isn’t it meant to stop them from hurting each other? why is it okay to hurt harvey, but not to hurt donna?

he doesn’t ask any of that, only tells him that they’re not in high school, and that they’re either doing this or not, but he refuses to base their relationship on whether or not his best friend is okay with seeing him happy or not. “you’re either in this with me, mike, or you’re out. that hasn’t changed, and it won’t, because donna will get over it and everything will be back to normal before you know it.”

“you don’t know that.”

“yes i do, because we’re grown-ups and we get over things.”

famous last words, it turns out, because mike just slowly shakes his head, agonising over this and not thinking, clearly not thinking when he says, “i’m sorry, harvey. i can’t to this; not like this.”

and all he can do is watch mike’s back as he all but runs from him, dragging his heart behind him, through the dirt, uncaring as bits and pieces of it chip off with every step mike takes, with every second that passes and allows the words i can’t and i’m sorry, harvey echo in the hollow of his chest.

we’re grown-ups. we get over things. well, tough fucking luck.

and this is how harvey loses the two most important people in his life in the matter of a week. before he knows it, he’s alone, left to fend for himself and hollowed out. his walls are broken down, deconstructed piece by piece by carefully, gentle hands to reveal what’s underneath — only for the hands to retreat, letting in the icy cold and accepting what’s inside to wither and die.

there’s a reason harvey specter makes his own luck; the universe isn’t very forthcoming otherwise. a fact that is proven when he finds a stranger outside his building when all he wants is to curl up and breathe through the cracks of his broken hearts that have pierced his lungs, they must have, surely they must have, because he can’t breathe. and he doesn’t learn how to breathe again when the woman — a kid, really, merely twenty-five — reveals that she’s his half sister. because it turns out the reason lily specter was so ready to up and leave all those years ago; the reason she didn’t fight for her family and instead blamed it all on harvey, was because she was pregnant. and she lied about it — for twenty-six years.

amelia selene specter is the little sister harvey has always wished for — but cancer is a curse that rests on the specter family, and while marcus got lucky twice, selene isn’t. she didn’t have the money for medical resources, and it’s eating harvey alive that he didn’t know, that there was no way for him to help her and that there’s no way now.

but there is. because selene has two kids, seven and four, and she needs his help because they can’t get lost in the system, they can’t live with total strangers or be separated because the system doesn’t actually care about children, they only care about not feeling guilty. and she won’t ask lily. these two angels must be kept from her at all costs because she ruined two families already, she won’t ruin this one.

and harvey is obsessed with the thought of more family, he needs to take care of and be there for someone and he’s ready to take on the world to protect his niece and nephew — but he’s not warm, he’s not available, he’s not even at home most of the time, nor is his place suitable for kids.

he agrees to take them in and find a solution though. he promises selene that he’ll be there for them. he’ll always be there. and when he gets to meet them — a few days before his sister dies way too young, way too alive for something like death to not rip him apart entirely — he gets attached instantly and vows to himself and to selene that nothing will happen to them as long as he’s there.

even though harvey just lost his family — the one he chose, the one he was born into, and the one he never got to meet. even though harvey’s entire world was deconstructed with no one around to put it back together. even though he doesn’t know how, because evidently he got it wrong every single time, harvey gets to build a new family with these kids. and though it tears him up inside, it heals something inside him too — and sometimes they balance each other out, and he can breathe again for just a little while as he reads to charlotte because she’s feisty and afraid of nightmares and not listening when he says she’ll be tired in the morning because “i’m tired in the morning anyway, but now i wanna read” and he trades her going to bed for a bedtime story, and she falls asleep with her face pressed into his side.

it’s so frail, though, so fragile, this little family, and he knows what it’s like when everything breaks. he knows what it’s like to lose one’s family — over and over and over again. and he’s terrified that he’s building himself back up the wrong way. he’s terrified because there’s no one keeping him together but both his hands are occupied holding these children that cry for their mama.

he’s terrified because he’s not supposed to be doing this alone. but everyone else has made their choice and he, as always, is just there to bear the consequences and try to turn it into a win.

one day, he will. he has to. and one day, he’s not alone anymore.