#goodbye 2023

[snoopyoftheday]

snoopy of the day

[creatingnikki]

another year is ending and I want you to know that it is okay if you:

have not healed from the things that happened/did not happen from six months ago. just because the year is ending it does not mean your grief is too.

don't have any "fun" NYE plans to ring in the new year. this life is yours to live across days and months and years, and you can celebrate days other than the ones heavily marketed and shoved down your throat to shroud you in severe FOMO.

have no resolutions or goals for the new year laid out in elaborate lists or shared on social media or with your friends. you are braving through this life trying to do your best every day and hold the fort and so of course you know, deep down you know what is needed from you for you going forward and of course you are going to work in that direction. good luck love.

have not become a "better" version of yourself by any of the tangible or conventional measures. that kind of bettering is mostly to serve others, not yourself.

are not happy with yourself/your life as it is now. you're a work-in-progress, remember? and if you're progressing in a direction you do not like, then it's time to change the blueprints and the strategy.

take time off social media around this time to protect your mental health and whatever little joy you have managed to keep.

don't want to spend too much time reflecting on how this past year went and doing various forms of 2023-wrapped. again, it's your life. you can also revisit this year in memories and pictures and feelings whenever you'd like. it's not like you don't still visit 2012, 2017, and 2022, right?

feel disconnected from your friends, family, lover. I know this is "ideally" a time to be celebrated with your loved ones. but life is not ideal, is it? it's just life. and if right now you are not feeling the love, the joy, or just don't have the headspace or social energy to engage , that's alright.

are finding comfort in simpler things like a TV show from the 90s or that book you first read at sixteen or that slice of strawberry cake or a random post like this you come across.

don't feel hopeful, encouraged, or excited for the new year. given everything that's happened in the last couple of years, on the macro and micro level, it's only natural for you to feel weary as well as wary. when the good things happen, when the healing happens, when things begin working in your favour over time, you will automatically feel all those things. it's okay if until then you choose to be neutral.

[without-ado]

Happy New Year! (x)

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Ravel

A Seams Christmas special oneshot | Moodboard

{ Part IV: Notch | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: T

Summary: Joel swings by yours with a little something before Christmas dinner at Tommy and Maria's.

Warnings: Unapologetic fluff and softness, inspired by this ask from @casssiopeia from the beginning of the year, no use of Y/N, very lightly edited

Word count: 2k

Notes: I'm so proud of writing up this little drabble. I've been in such a weird place with my writing, I'm just happy to end the year on a creative high. Obviously, I'm a few days late to Christmas, but better late than never!

There is a voice in my head telling me that this isn't good enough, that it doesn't hold up to what I was writing earlier this year. But I need to rewire my brain. There is no such thing as 'good' or 'bad' when it comes to fanfiction. All fanfiction is good fanfiction. This is our hobby, not our jobs, and we need to be kind to ourselves.

I am posting this at 11:59pm on New Year's Eve. Happy new year y'all, I hope Joel and Pin can bring you some festive cheer ❤️

Joel is this close to have a fucking breakdown.

He would measure out how close this is between his thumb and index finger if they were not currently tangled in webs of yarn, rapidly unravelling from from the bottom of what is supposed to be a sweater.

Your sweater.

The book that Lucy lent him months ago lies on the table before him, the pages yellowed and dogeared, open at the the easiest pattern of the lot to knit - a simple pullover in chunky yarn, in your favourite colour.

Well, it was supposed to be easy, anyway.

Despite Lucy basically holding his hand throughout the whole project, he’s had far less time than anticipated to work on it. Too many nights he finds himself at Tommy and Maria’s, elbow deep in dirty baby’s clothes and diapers, making himself useful for whatever needs to be done around the house. 

Even Ellie chips in without being asked, often bringing back food from the canteen and making sure the severely sleep-deprived adults are eating, if not well fed. Joel honestly doesn’t remember how he did it with Sarah as a clueless twenty-something, with an even more clueless younger brother.

As he attempts to free himself from the quagmire of wool, he grimaces at the stiffness all over his body, feeling it especially in his back after sleeping in an armchair all night with a rapidly growing two-month old.

He’s too old for this shit - but there’s no saying no to the little rascal with Tommy’s nose and Maria’s eyes.

The knitting needles clatter to the floor when he jumps at the front door opening and slamming shut, a frustrated fuuuuuuck slipping past his gritted teeth. 

Ellie’s voice rings out loud and clear as she scampers up the stairs, getting progressively louder until she’s outside his study. ‘Hey! Did you remember to put the potatoes in the oven? We have to leave for Tommy’s in an hour - dude, what the fuck is happening?’

‘What do you think is happenin’?’ he growls.

Crossing her arms, Ellie leans against the doorframe wearing a far too amused expression. ‘Maria said no gifts.’

Joel rolls his eyes. ‘It’s not for Maria.’

The teenager squints, perplexed, at the bits of wool in his hands. ‘What is that meant to be?’

‘... A sweater.’

Ellie bites her bottom lip, holding in a poorly concealed giggle. ‘I think a sweater is meant to have sleeves.’

‘You think?’

‘Want me to go get Lucy?’

With a heavy sigh, he mutters, ‘Fine.’

At the arch of her half-eyebrow, Joel adds begrudgingly, ‘Please.’

Ellie grins, sneakers skidding on the floorboards as she takes off. ‘Hang in there, old man!’

Despite the cold, his palms are sweaty, sticking to the kraft paper wrapped haphazardly around the even more haphazard package clutched tightly in his right hand. 

The night air mists before him in puffs of white as he shuffles a path through the falling snow. His ears are tingling from the cold, and flexing the stiff, frozen tips of his fingers, Joel knows he should’ve worn his gloves. They weren’t in their usual place by the door though, and he was so frazzled that he barely got his shoes tied up before dashing out the door, sending Ellie ahead with the potatoes (that are definitely undercooked) to his brother’s.

Your cottage glows yellow and orange in the darkness, and your stairs no longer creak when he trudges up them, having fixed them just in time before the first snowfall.

He hears your footsteps come from deep within this house when he knocks. Your eyes are wide when your door cracks open tentatively, but then your lips curve into a smile - the smile that he takes with him and keeps him warm when he has to leave Jackson for days-long patrols.

‘What are you doing here?’ you ask, ushering him inside, not batting an eye at the snow he tracks inside. ‘I thought we were meeting at Maria’s.’

Pressing a kiss to your lips, he softens at the way you lift your face towards him to catch it, careful to keep the parcel out of sight behind his back. ‘Yeah, we were, but thought I’d see if you need a hand with anythin’.’

‘Such a gentleman,’ you tease. 

A low fire burns in the hearth, the wood he chopped for you in the fall stacked in a tidy pile next to the mantelpiece. Sweeping his eyes across the living space, he spots the book with the cracked spine that he reads when he’s here on the coffee table, next to yours. On the other side of the couch is the Christmas tree that he cut for you, and he watched you dress it up in tinsel and fairylights one night after a quiet dinner and before hot cocoa under thick blankets.

He likes seeing himself at your home. In the things he does for you; in his things, casually scattered around - like they belong in your space.

‘The pies are in the kitchen, could you please put them in a bag?’ you ask. ‘I’ll just grab my coat and we can go.’

‘Sure, sweetheart,’ he answers, waiting until you’ve disappeared into the bedroom before setting down the present under the tree.

He’s leaning against the back of the couch when you pop back in, a few layers deeper than when you left him, the pies nestled safely in a carrier bag by his boots. 

‘Shall we?’ you ask brightly.

Joel hesitates, wondering if he should wait until after dinner to tell you about the present. It only takes his eyes darting to the foot of the tree for the briefest moment for you to catch on. The slow smile that stretches your cheeks and lights up your eyes warms him from the inside out.

You cock your head to one side, playing coy. ‘What’s that, Joel?’

He shrugs, feigning cool. ‘Why don’t you go ahead and find out?’

His chest physically swells at the way you dash towards the tree, landing on your knees in uncharacteristic recklessness, the impact only softened by the rug underneath. You cradle the lumpy package to your chest like something precious. ‘You got me a present.’

He settles on the end of the couch next to you, his heart beating harder in his ribcage than he’d like to admit. ‘Don’t get your hopes up, sweetheart.’

You frown at him. ‘Why?’

‘You’ll see, but I wanted to give it to you anyway.’

You open the package carefully, as if it was wrapped in the fancy paper people used to buy at the shop. Joel holds his breath when you peel it away to reveal what’s inside.

He’s far too inside his own head to hear your inhale that sounds a lot like wonder. You pick up the sweater gently, shaking it out, and Joel winces when he sees it in the flicker of the firelight.

Disastrous doesn’t begin to cover it. Lucy managed to connect the sleeves to the shapeless body in a last-ditch salvage attempt, but one is clearly longer than the other. The stitches are untidy, some have obviously caught onto something and pulled loose. Rough around the edges is putting it kindly.

Joel wants to reach out, grab it, chuck it into the fire and let the flames swallow it whole.

Finally, the silence gets the better of him, and he blurts out. ‘I’m sorry.’

You stare at him, stunned. ‘What?’

Under his whiskers, his cheeks flush in embarrassment, and he rambles, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinkin’. You deserve better sweetheart, here, let me -’

You almost lose your balance keeping the sweater out of his reach. ‘Don’t you dare, Joel Miller.’

Confused, he watches you rise to your feet, shucking your outer coat and another layer. ‘What are you doin’?’

Grabbing the sweater, you slide it over your head and thread your arms through the sleeves. The soft knit drapes over your curves, too big over your shoulders and the hem falling unevenly, higher on the right side than the left. One sleeve is long enough to cover half your hand, while the other sits right on the wrist.

And yet. 

You’re beaming like you just picked up something at Bloomin’dales or whatever the fuck those department stores were called back then. 

‘I love it,’ you declare, no trace of irony in your voice, as hard as he’s trying to find it.

He scoffs in disbelief. ‘C’mon, sweetheart, you’re just sayin’ it -’

You surprise him, grabbing him by the scruff of his collar and dragging him towards you to plant a firm kiss on his lips. 

‘I love it,’ you repeat slowly, with conviction, as if willing him to believe you. ‘Thank you.’

He doesn’t quite still, but he smiles and kisses you back. ‘Merry Christmas, sweetheart.’

‘Since we’re doing this -’ you trail off, sliding out of his grip to reach around the back of the tree, pulling out a neatly wrapped gift. ‘This is for you.’

Joel pauses. 

For him.

For the longest time, nothing had been for him unless it was soul-crushing grief and pain.

And yet here it is - his name on the tag written in your neat handwriting. Something he can hold in his hands. For him.

His fingers tremble when he reaches out. The package is soft, and the paper crackles under his grip. He all but tears it open, uncaring of the way the wrapping falls to the floor.

A laugh bubbles out of his throat, and you look relieved at his reaction. ‘You like it?’

It’s not quite a Santa hat. It’s a chunky dark red beanie with a white brim folded back, and topped with a white pompom. 

‘My ears were so cold walkin’ over. It’s perfect,’ he says, pulling it over the crown of his head. Of course, it fits just right, sliding soft and warm over his ears. He adds with a wink, ‘Y’know what, I might just shimmy down some chimneys after dinner.’

‘As long as you shimmy down mine too,’ you retort, not hearing the euphemism.

Joel quirks an eyebrow at that, one large palm squeezing your backside through the layers. ‘That an open invitation, sweetheart?’

You duck your head, more out of habit than actual shyness, with mischief in your smile. ‘Don’t be so crude, Joel Miller.’

Adjusting his new hat so that it sits comfortably, he points at the pompom and jokes, ‘Shame I can’t wear this on patrols.’

Right on cue, you hold up a finger. ‘Funny you should say that.’

He chuckles when you pull out a second, plain black beanie, as if out of thin air. ‘You really thought of everythin’, sweetheart.’

You shrug playfully. ‘I’m smart like that.’

‘I know you are,’ he smiles.

‘Merry Christmas, Joel.’

His lips find yours again in a slow, lingering kiss that has you leaning into him for more when he pulls back. ‘Thank you. For everythin’.’

You hold his gaze - heavy with meaning, light with joy. It wouldn’t take more than a tilt of the head towards the bedroom to derail your evening plans, and you both know it.

In the end, you’re the one who stays strong. Taking one step back from his warmth, you reach for your coat. ‘We’re late, we should go.’

His eyes widen. ‘Wait - you’re not wearin’ that to dinner are you?’

‘Of course I am,’ you say, buttoning up your coat over the sweater.

‘You don’t have to, sweetheart,’ he almost pleads with you.

You grin, heading for the door, blowing out candles as you go. ‘Too bad, I’m never taking it off.’

Joel shakes his head with a wry huff. ‘Well, I hope not never -’

You have one foot out the door when you suddenly remember. ‘I almost forgot - you left your gloves here last time. They’re in the cupboard by the door.’

Ah, that’s where they went. He opens the drawer and pulls them on, one after the other, the leather, worn smooth with age, creaking as he wraps his fingers around the handles of the carrier bag.

Joel is about to follow you out the door when he pauses over the threshold. Glancing down at the black beanie in his grasp, he reaches up and hooks it on the coat rack, nestled among your clothes.

He hopes that when the time comes for him to wear it for the first time - maybe on a patrol that will take him away from you for a few days - it will smell like you.

Gorgeous dividers by @firefly-graphics ❄️

More notes: I hope I will return to the main series in the new year. I've missed these two lovebirds, I hope you enjoyed this little interlude! ❤️

[warpedwings]

Misha Collins • 2023 Moments

[risiblesvmours]

My favorite ex and i

[penguinclover]

Day 231

May you still be my companion next year and forever

[iamsherlocked1479]

Happpy New Year

Stephen Strange x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: explicit content 18+, slut shame, chocking

Description: Stephen doesn't like that you recived a compliment, he doesn't like that somebody would even consoder they had a chance with you.

——————————

Most people are drunk right now, you’re not denying that you were, of course nobody leaves a Stark party completely sober. All beat it, most of the guests haven’t left yet, they were currently counting down to midnight last you heard the ball will drop in 10 minutes, but you couldn’t care right now. You’re currently pressed up against the padded wall of what looks like a gym, technically you hadn’t left Stark Tower yet, with your legs neatly parted over Stephen's shoulders as his tongue glided through your slick folds. 

“Oh fuck steph- we’re gonna miss the countown, we have to- shit.” Your eyes squinted shut and your hand tightened in his hair as he drew you closer to an orgasm. Your statement was thoroughly met with a grunt and a quick “I don’t care sweetheart” as his tongue continued to lap its way around your clit.

This had all started because Thor complimented your dress, he meant no harm of course only stating that you should belong with the Asgardian gods. But like always Stephen was jealous, he hated that a man would even consider himself worthy of being able to see you the way he did, a goddess in your own right. So after that one incident, at exactly 11:49pm Stephen had enough of the looks you were getting, even though you only had eyes for him, and proceeded to pull you into the nearest empty room and show exactly how only he could make you feel.

“Shhh, sweetheart, don’t want anyone hearing those sweet sounds you make for me.” He said, snaking his hand up your body to cover your mouth as you came. He lifted your legs off his shoulder and pinned you between him and the wall. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you, your hands continued to work on the buttons of his shirt as they had done earlier before he dropped to his knees for you. “Ah, ah sweetheart” he grabbed your wrists and moved your hand to his tight trousers where you palmed him through his clothes, “we gotta do this fast, i want all the others to see me kiss you at midnight.” He purred as he spun you around, tracing his cock between your folds before pushing you against the wall with a deep thrust. 

You didn’t like jealous stephen, but you loved the way he fucked, he was normally so gentle and kind making sure to touch and kiss you everyway possible before slowly drawing out orgasm after orgasm. But jealous Stephen, he fucked hard, he wasnt one for yelling or arguing, so he would take out his frustrations by pounding into you, he wanted to prove how fast he could make you cum how only he could make you feel that good. 

“You’re mine you know that right?” He purred as he sucked and nibbled at the pulse point on your neck leaving a purple mark for all to see. His cock had the perfect curve making it rub right against your g-spot in this position.

“Steph- please, i know im yours, fuck” you cried as his hand snaked around your neck bringing your head to his. He squeezed slightly, not enough to make it hard for you to breathe, but enough for your hand to clamp onto his wrist and walls to clench around his cock.

“Did you like the way Thor looked at you?” He moved his free hand to pull your dress down just enough to expose your tits to the world. “Did you want him looking at these?” He groaned with his cock twitching inside you. He grabbed on one of your tits, roughly massaging it in his hand and pinching on the nipple. “You know you’re so beautiful, I know you know every man smart enough wants you, admit it you like the attention.” He hissed, kissing your neck and thrusting even harder causing a pile of weights to tumble to the floor. “Tell me sweetheart, do you enjoy the attention?”

“Ye- shit, yes stephen. Fuck.” You moaned, your legs shaking at the overstimulation. He spun you around so that you could see yourselves in the mirrored walls, one hand gripped your chin and pointed you towards the mirror, while the other clung around your abdomen holding you in place as he kept himself inside you.

“Look at you.” He hummed in satisfaction, you looked at what you saw, your dress creased, tits popping out over the top of your dress, mascara running down your face, legs shaking, “look at us” you looked at him through the reflection, eyes darkened, hair stuck with sweat to his forehead, shirt falling down his shoulders and his trousers down only just enough to get his cock out. It was a sight to see, yet a sight you and stephen both loved to see, he loved showing you what he can do to you, and you loved that stupid dumb sarcastic smile of his. 

His arm that wrapped around your waist slid down to your clit as he continued pushing inside you, his fingers played with your clit using his precum that dripped from you as a lubricant, adding to the pleasure. You squeezed your eyes shut as you could feel that knot tightening, threatening to break as your insides fluttered. Stephen moaned at the sensation of your walls clenching around him.

“Open your eyes” he demanded “I want you to watch as I make you cum, i want you to realise you’re a slut, but you’re my slut.” He grunted as he felt himself drawing closer to his release, his fingers now frantically swiped up and down your clit and with his cock still hitting your g-spot, the sensation became unbearable and the knot snapped, this felt different your felt yourself dripping onto him and creating a small puddle on the hard gym floor. Your knees buckled and you melted to the floor where Stephen set you on all fours, still making sure you can see yourself in the mirror. He kept himself inside you as you slumped, trying to catch your breath

“You see that, that's how good I can make you feel. Tell me what you are.” he said, giving you a single hard thrust causing the sound of skin on skin to echo through the dark room.

“Yours.” you said through breathless moans, this landed a firm yet satisfying slap on you ass as he sped up his motions.

“My what?” he said “speak up” he said moaning, following his own ecstasy

“Your slut.” you cried out, holding yourself up as you could see in the mirror that he was completely lost in the chase for his own orgasm, so you angled yourself that you were pushing yourself onto him every time he entered you. “I’m your slut stephen, yours and yours alone, my pussy is made for you.” your words only encouraged him as he moaned with the satisfaction that the lesson he had been trying to teach you had finally sunk in. 

“That's right sweetheart, your mine” His trembling hands practically vibrated as he gripped the fat of your hips turning his knuckles white. You looked in the mirror, the smell of sex filling your nostrils, you looked at the sight behind you, his biceps straining through the sleeves of that white dress shirt you loved so much, his muscular chest shining with sweat. That was the man you fell in love with, every inch of him, even his salt and pepper temples he hated so much, you loved him.

“Say it again sweetheart.” he begged, he was so close.

“I’m your slut Stephen. I want you to fill me up, make your slut drip with your cum Stephen.” you called out with a victorious smile as he came, strengthening his grip on your waist. His body caved on top of yours as he littered your shoulder with kisses.

“Did you fuck out that atitude?” you asked with a giggle

“I don’t have an attitude.” he stated, sitting back on his knees and watching his seed drip from you. “I just like to make my opinion clear.” he smiled when you jolted as he pushed his cum back into your sensitive hole.

“I think you did.” you got up and put your underwear back on, which had been left at the door, the face he pulled when he realised you were just going to keep his seed inside you almost wanted to make you do it all again, but you did have a deadline to meet. You watched as he buttoned up his shirt and tucked himself back in place. “You know I love you and only you right?” 

“Of Course i do.” he walked over and kissed your forehead “i just wished other people understood that.” he clicked his fingers and your makeup and hair neatened themselves up like nothing had happened and linked his arm into yours.

“It was just a compliment Stephen, Thor didn’t mean anything by it.” you laughed to yourself as the hum of the party grew near

“You don’t know that for sure.” Stephen joked back as he grabbed two glasses of champagne and handed one to you.

“I know you’re jealous.” you looked at him and he rolled his eyes

“So what if I was?” he smiled “Sometimes i think you prefer it.”

“So what if I did?” your brow quirked, he opened his mouth to say something when you were interrupted by the rest of the guests beginning to count down and stephen lead you to the balcony where the others where

“3… 2… 1… Happy new year!” Stephen pulled you towards him and locked his lips with yours with a passionate kiss, you had to grip your glass so that you didn’t drop it on impact, he pulled you closer to him, allowing you to rest on his chest before finally parting.

“Happy new year sweetheart.” he smiled and gave you another peck

“Happy new year.” you smiled back

“Now correct me if i’m wrong but we need to go home, i haven’t seen you naked since last year.” he pulled your wrist

“That joke wasn’t funny last year and it still isn’t” you gave him a pity laugh

“Then why are you following me?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I have to say i might have gotten a little carried away with some of the language there, but im not appologising, this was based of a dream i had a few weeks back and i thought i'd turn it into a lil end of year gift for you all because in january i will have bneen posting for two years which is crazy to me because this year we have grown from around 50 followrrs to 250! which is even more crazy so, hope to get back into the swing of things next and hope you all have a great new year love ypu all sm! <3

[bruneburg]

[imagine-all-the-people]

When you have to work New Year’s Day 😅

[callmefirefly]

[ninasdrafts]

Congratulations. You've made it. Again. It shouldn't come as a surprise, but if it does - if you had to fight to get here, if you had to claw your way to the end of this year - that's fine. If you've been waiting for the final days to roll in after a cozy (or a crazy?) Christmas, they are here at last. Close your eyes. Think of everything you've achieved this year. Think of moments that made you wish you could bottle them up and keep them forever, warm days drenched in sunlight and laughter that made your stomach hurt and people who make you feel so light it feels like flying. Imagine how many more moments like these 2024 will have in store. I hope you find the courage to chase them. I hope you hold on to these people, no matter what life throws your way. I know the missing won't stop, it won't go away, but I hope you'll find it easier to bear. Don't forget that problems aren't solved overnight, but that things do look different after a good night's sleep. I hope the next year will bring you closer to the person you want to be, to the person you are meant to be. Please don't be afraid of change. Of growth. Of letting go and moving on. It's a process, one that does not end with December 31st. It begins and ends with you. And in one year's time, you'll be sitting in the exact same spot, wondering how you got here - but maybe you won't. I hope you'll know, hope you'll remember how you pushed through. Maybe in one year's time, you'll look back at the greatest year of your life (so far). From the bottom of my heart, I hope you do.

hi, 2024 / n.j.

[without-ado]

“Deadline” by Bianca Bagnarelli

l The New Yorker l 2024 l Jan. 1 & 8

[hedjeroo]

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! 🎊🎊🎊🎊

[artblockau414]

Happy New Years! Enjoy a sneak peek at our Betty!

[sheismo]

The New Year Is OTW. Let’s Prepare! 🤎✨🤞🏾