#had to use a new gif because i am having Thoughts about that new haircut

[gabbysdawsons]

💞 + Cody my fave dino girl

Owen. they're just so ridiculous. like that man is- 40 and also like her best friend. neither of them knows how they got here but they're here and they have to deal with it.

James. they have kind of a strenuous relationship at times, but ultimately they're sisters and that's what matters.

Meeko. that's her baby. her favourite dinosaur ever.

Claire- they just have such opposite personality types that it's fun to see them interact.

the way i both ran out of people and also- very honestly have to put Will. like they are just <3 i love them

and bonus Jon because They are kinda dumb silly blondes and they are in love <3

send me 💞 + an oc and ill tell you my top five favorite dynamics of theirs

[mentally-gone002]

pretty genius boy

summary: spencer gets a haircut!

a/n: i am obsessed with jesus spencer and boyband spencer so… i decided to do a little fic abt him because he’s my husband (im delulu)

————————————————————————

the front door to mine and spencer’s apartment opened, signaling that he was home. 

he was earlier than expected. 

and so was i. 

i kept washing the few dishes that were left in the sink, blowing at a strand of hair that tickled my face when it grazed my cheek with my lips drawn to the side without looking up as spencer wandered into my line of sight, greeting me with a quick “hey” that caught my attention. he wasn’t looking at me, but at a file from work in his hands.

when i looked up i dropped the glass in my hand and then flinched when it hit the sink basin with a loud thud. “oh, my god!” i raised my voice is shock. “your hair!” 

he flinched at the glass thudding into the sink and then pursed his lips into a smile. “yeah,” he nodded. “what about it?” 

i scoffed, abandoning my chore with soap still clinging and dripping from my hands. “what about it?” i reiterated. “spencer… you chopped it all off!” i reached him and we stood toe to toe and i was craning my neck to see his new haircut. he looked very different. 

he frowned a little. “is that bad?” 

i shook my head quickly to make his frown disappear. “no, no, it’s just… i thought someone broke in at first glance.” i stifled a laugh, reaching a soapy hand to his hair. “give me an hour and i’ll tell you how i feel about it.” 

spencer nodded, laughing gently to himself at how i was looking at him. “okay.” he leaned down to my height and kissed my forehead. “i missed you.” 

“i missed you too.” i smiled into the second long contact. “and i miss your hair!” i frowned. 

he smiled. “it was too hot.” 

“you’re right.” i agreed with my arms crossing over my chest.

“i think you misunderstood the correct meaning of the word ‘hot’ in this context.” spencer told me.

i whined. “stop being so… genius. let me mourn the loss of your beautiful hair.” 

spencer rolled his eyes. “okay. you mourn, i’m gonna go shower.” 

i nodded and watched him disappear into our bedroom before walking back to the kitchen. i dried my hands and grabbed my phone, dialing penelope’s number. 

“hello my lovely!” she answered the phone in the same cheerful manner she always does. “what’s up?”

“spencer got a haircut.” i told her. 

she gasped, already intrigued. “what’s it look like? please tell me it’s not bad.”

i laughed. “it’s not bad it’s just… i wasn’t expecting it at all when he came home. it’s so short.” 

“how short are we talking?” she asked. 

i hummed. “think like… harry styles from one direction, but less fluffy.” 

the woman squealed over the phone. “oh, reid has a boyband haircut!” i could hear her typing quickly before she stopped, there was silence and then she giggled. 

“what’s so funny?” 

“i can’t wait to see his hair! he always has good haircuts. and if it’s anything like harry styles i’m going to go insane.” 

i laughed. “i told him to give me an hour to get used to it. i like it when it’s long because i can braid it.” 

she gave me a pitiful ‘awe’ and then asked, “do you think he’ll grow it back out?”

i hummed. “have you seen all the haircuts he’s had over the last few years? he never sticks to one for too long.” 

penelope agreed with a simple hum as i started walking towards our bedroom. “i’m gonna go, just wanted to update you on the ever changing plot of my life.” i chuckled, seeing the bathroom door adjoined to our bedroom open slightly. 

“i enjoy the updates. say hi to boy genius for me!” 

“i will.” i laughed and then hung up the phone prior to pulling the bathroom door wider for my entrance and then pushing it partially closed again. spencer was hidden behind the dark olive green shower curtain but that didn’t stop me from peeking around it to stare at him. 

his back was to me but i still focused on his wet hair that was a few shades darker and the smallest sight of muscle definition over his back. 

maybe i didn’t need an hour for his short hair to grow on me. 

i withdrew my head from the shower curtain and left the bathroom, smiling to myself with the fond thought of him in my head. 

i went back to the kitchen to finish the dishes and by the time i was done spencer was back in the room with me, a tee shirt covering his chest and sweatpants covered his legs. 

“hi.” he rounded the island in the kitchen to stand beside me at the sink, back to the counter. he looked down at me with the same kind eyes he always had. 

i smiled and shut off the running water so that i could move and stand between spencer’s legs. “hi.” i studied his messy towel dried hair prior to reaching up and touching some of the strands, twirling them between my fingers, then letting my hand slide down to touch his face. i looked into his eyes before saying, “i know it hasn’t been an hour, but it’s grown on me.” a smirk slipped over my lips as he grinned as well. 

“i knew you wouldn’t need an hour.” he teased lightly, leaning down to capture my lips with his for a brief second. 

i scoffed. “how did you know?”

“i’m a profiler, honey.” he reminded. 

i nodded gently, sighing contently. “ah, yes. i forgot.” my smile reflected my teasingly feigned innocence that spencer smiled at. “but seriously, i love it. it suits you, and you’re as handsome as ever.” i winked, smiling widely. spencer kissed me again. i could feel how his lips curled into a grin. “pretty genius boy.”

spencer tucked his head into my neck. i knew he was smiling.

i put my fingers in his now short hair, loving how easy it was to comb my fingers through it now.

[sherlockig]

Hello my little grieving friends (aka my CREW!)

I just want to talk about how much our flag means death has given me. I have not had internet friends since i were a teenager. They all kind of disapeared over time in the same way as high school classmates went away. I have been on this blog on tumblr since 2010 and i have never experienced what ofmd has given me. Not even in my very derranged ca 5 year long sherlock-era did i get to befriend and know this many amazing people who live in my phone. Some of you have come and gone and that is life, but some of you are still here and I hope I get to keep you here for a very long time. Max can not stop us and I want to be here with you until tumblr is put down like the beloved rabid pet it is.

I think we are all taking the news very hard and I think it's important to remember what it is all about really. It's about love and family and above all else the crew so i just want to show some love for my beloved mutuals. And i hope maybe some of you will be inspired to do the same because its what we need in these dark times. We need to be a lighthouse guiding each other to shore.

First of all @gentlebeard - Ella💕 my beloved honey 🍯 I can not explain properly or even believe how lucky I am that I found you and that I get a little good morning from you every day. We have been talking every single day since the first message over a year ago and I don't remember or want to remember how i survived before that. I will treasure the time i spent drinking pina coladas on your balcony in the sun forever and i hope i will get some more time on that balcony this summer. I have found a pirate bar in Sweden so we can continue our expensive pirate drinks theme that we started in Berlin. There is no one else i want to spend 6-8 hours talking to over the phone.💕My partner in crime, lasagna partner and floor person or whatever nicknames we have come up with during this time. You are not just the perfect friend to have, you are also funny, sweet, smart and a expert at making fanvideos that make me cry my heart out and laugh my lungs up - sometimes at the same time 💕💕

@blakbonnet - Meow my darling💕 you were the first one i really started to talk to in the fandom and i am so glad i did. You brighten my days and i love talking to you you brilliant humanbeing (i often find myself thinking i have listened to much to cabin pressure because i struggle to use any other word than brilliant to explain things.. the Arthur runs deep in me) also thank you for being my personal skincare guide in life!! Your fics, your art, your edits, your gifs, your meta the whole you make my dash a better place and we are all happy to have you! There is nothing you are not good at and i am both a bit jealus and impressed by you. Its Meows fandom we all just live in it 💕💕

@youshouldseemeinadeerstalker - Nes my dear💕 We may not be talking very often but I know I always have you there. I loved our vacation together and we had so much to talk about that we didn't even realize that the same song kept playing in my car so long that it messed up my spotify wrapped. It was amazing taking naps with you outside ruins of castles and in botanical gardens and living together in the worlds smallest hotel room. I hope we can get lost together in more cities than Hamburg and Copenhagen. (preferably without rain and sickness and maybe with a map) 💕💕

@darkinerry - Marlena 💕 its a pleasure getting weather and work updates from you and i am always interested in knowing what you have been up to and what you have to say. It brightens my day, please never stop!! Your videos and gifsets can make any day better and you are always kind and funny which are two things i appreciate hugely in my friends!! 💕💕 + You have the coolest haircut out of all my mutuals 😌

@aha-my-villainous-thoughts - Ash my wife💕 my love💕Nothing can make me scream, blush and giggle as much as your fanart. You have this style of everything you make from fanart to dolls to interior design that is so special and breathtaking. One day we will drink so many lattes in a cosy cafe and then sniff lush products for the rest of the day. 💕 You are always there for me - as a online shoulder to cry on or to motivate me with the smuttiest wips ever. I am happy to be mutual married to you 💕💕

@bizarrelittlemew - Ida 💕- my thirsting for rhys brother in arms. I can not imagine tumblr without your gifs or your posts. I love screaming with you over a picture of rhys darbys bicep. I am so happy i got to meet you this summer and i really hope it will happen again. We are not that far from each other, just some miles and a stupid bridge; we can make it. You are always a sweetheart and an incredible friend who write the hottest fanfiction ever💕💕

@dickfuckk - josh 💕 (who I also thought for a long time was called tyler) I dont know where the fandom would be without your bts blog! its a international treasure and a service to humanity. i don't know how you do it. 💕You always have everything i have ever been looking for and as a bonus you are witty and funny like no one else. I am so happy i got to meet you and spend a whole day in your company! 💕

@izzy-b-hands - Holden my absolute darling!💕 I am so glad I got the chance to get to know you! You are smart, funny and kind and my izzy mutual tm. You are always there for me with kind words and I am still forever shipping izzy and the third badminton brother which I think is the best headcanon I have ever helped coming up with. 💕

@funforahermit - Kristina 💕 Your love for Rhys and your gifs are a staple on tumblr and my dash. I know where to go when i need someone to understand how hot Steve is (even if we have agreed that he is yours and Murray is mine which i still think is a fine deal). I very often make or see a picture of Rhys and my first thought is "I NEED TO SHOW KRISTINA THIS" so you live rentfree in my brain 💕

@rainbowcrowley - Addi 💕If i ever start playing wow again you bet i am gonna be talking your ear off about my little frost mages progress but in the meantime i am happy to have you on my dash and even if we don't talk that much are you a beloved part of my dash and brighten it daily.💕💕

@fandomsmeantheworldtome - Maria💕 You were one of the very first people i found in this fandom and your gifs might have helped my rhys obession taking form. You might be into many things I have never heard of but its a pleasure seeing your excitement over everything. You are always a ray of sunshine and i love that so much💕💕

@tabbystardust - Tabby dear💕 You are the kindest person I know who I always get the strongest need to hug and hold close. Your fanart is beyond this world and i adore it like nothing else. Its always both hot and soft in the best way ever💕 I am always excited to get kitty updates and to hear about your ramen receipts. I hope we can still meet at the con next year! I am game if you are!! 💕💕

@hummingbee-o0o - Humming 💕 (i dont know your name sorry) I am always excited to hear your thoughts and metas about everything ofmd related as well as your beautiful art. 💕 it was a pleasure to scream about season 2 after every watched episode!💕

@xoxoemynn - Emy 💕💕 i am so happy to be mutual with you! 💕You always bring joy to the people who get to be around you and fill my dash with the same. We might not talk often but i know you got my back! That is the kind of person you are!💕

@saltpepperbeard - Jodi💕 No one write tags on tumblr dot com like you. There is nothing that can cheer me up more than see that one of my posts has gotten a whole ass novel written in the tags and then i instinctively know that its you who have left your wonderful mark. You are always excited and such a lovely human to be mutual with. 💕 And on top of that you make incredible gifs that make my heart stop!!! 💕💕

@autumnbois - Kai 💕💕 I hope you are doing okay. We might not talk much right now but you were there for me when i needed it most and you are a good friend to have living in my phone.💕💕 I will think of you whenever i see something related to scream and your love for piccrew always make me smile💕

@edsbacktattoo - Jams, jams jams! 💕 We are never online at the same time because of the damn time differences *shakes fist* but you are a staple in this fandom. Your art is incredible and you are the sweetest cookie in the jar. You are funny and always spread good energy to everyone around you and I love that with my whole heart💕💕

@kiwistede - Sam 💕 Your love for stede and rhys is unmet and i love you for that. You are always a good source for some rhys darby insanity and we all know that is what i treausure most here in life! 💕💕

@stedesearring - Kaitlin💕 You are the sweetest and kindest soul out here always spreading joy and love like the sun of my dash. 💕 I always love seeing you and i am happy to have the pleasure to have you as a friend in my phone! 💕💕

@stedebonnets - Ara 💕 Where would we be without your gifs?? without your joy?? without your blog?? without you?? No one knows! I am so happy to call you a mutual and friend and you always bring a smile to my face. Always!!💕💕

@appleteeth - Liz 💕 No one is quite as normal about rhys darby as you and it a pleasure to watch! Speaking of pleasure.. your fic the slightest touch is an all time favorite of mine and i would be embarrassed to tell you how many times i have read it... you are one of my mutuals that i am baffled that they want to follow me. Its a privilege! 💕

@as-a-creww - Caroline dear 💕 You are a beloved mutual and your blog are a permanent part of my dash and i want to keep it like that! you are the friendliest of the friendliest and what is more important than that?? 💕💕

@nandorisms - Ed dear💕 Your shameless reblogs makes the world go around. You are always sweet and a much needed wwdits addition to my life. I count you as a dear friend living in my heart!💕

@londonlock - Londie! 💕💕 The only sherlock mutual i have left and i am very happy to have kept you! 💕 I might have left those days behind me but you know as well as i that sherlock lives in my soul and seeing some sherlock and john love on a daily basis keep me grounded and on top of that are you such a romantic and beautiful human being! 💕💕

@follovver - Tanya 💕 My fellow Swedish ofmd fan! I am very happy to have found you! its nice to be able do discuss it in my mother tongue and i hope we one day can do it live! its to bad we never met when we went to the same uni (or maybe we did but didn't know) Du är fantastisk!! 💕

@wastingyourgum - Al💕(which i always read in my head as artificial intelligence and giggle because it make me feel like you are a robot) My fellow rhys friend. You bring me doses of darby when its most needed and your blog is always on fleek 💕💕

@xray-vex - Xray 💕 100 % one of my funniest mutuals!💕💕 You make hilarious posts that no one else could even dream of coming up with! Always top tier blog content and what more can a girl ask for??💕

@jellybeanium124 - Nina💕 I can not imagine my blog without you! Your posts are always a delight and you are so nice and sweet and funny and incredible (even when you make math mistakes kisses kisses) You bring a honest joy into the fandom that we could not live without! 💕💕

@thunderwingdoomslayer - Nellie 💕 My official rhys darby gif provider who I come to as if i needed a new hit of an illegal substance. I salute you and thank you for your service!💕💕

@forestofsprites - Green my dear 💕You might have gone from ofmd to be the supernatural provider of my dash but that does not stop you from being the kindest forest spirit i know. Your presence is calming in a way i can not explain and i am glad to have you and your love for meg here.💕💕

@cheersmequeers - Kate💕💕 A big puzzle piece to bring my dash together. Always filling it with my favorite gay pirates and i love having you here. Always friendly and full of love.💕💕

@sugashook - Sugaaa💕💕 You know i am in love with your art! Your art is always on top and it bring me back to life every time. I keep the dress i bought from you on the outside of my closet so every morning its the first thing i see and it sets the day right!💕💕 I wear your art on my tshirt to the gym as often as i can hoping to lure in a ofmd fan between the weights but that has not happened yet sadly!! Never stop making your art!! The world would be at loss if that happened 💕💕

@lacefuneral - Jay 💕(should be called YAY because that is what i say when i see a new selfie or fashion post from you) You are a fantastic friend and i love your love for stede and you are always kind and patient in a way that makes me comfortable to ask you questions about something i might not be familiar with. You are forever my moth mutual in my mind 💕💕

@meanmisscharles - Charles 💕 In my head i call you charles but i don't think that is your name but i hope its okay with you! Always friendly and sweet but ready to fight the bullshit the other spread! and such a source for good music recommendations!! 💕💕

@forpiratereasons - Darcy 💕literary no one does it like Darcy! Aways bringing the best ofmd posts to my dash and ensuring i don't miss anything! You are incredible! 💕💕

@blackbeardskneebrace - Miles my dear 💕 You make incredible art both the cute and amazing ofmd art but also the gorgeous historical art you post. Its a pleasure to see you talk about history but also about our beloved gay pirates. Your snoopy ofmd art will live in my heart forever and i think it might be healing me a bit. Maybe even watering my crops and clearing my skin! And those valentine ofmd arts from last year. I am 100 % gonna bring them back this February like beloved decorations you store in the attic. 💕💕💕

@awkward-fallen-angel - Heather 💕 You are one of the sweetest people i have had the pleasure to come across. You bring a big excitement and attention to the things you like and it moves along to everyone near. I mean i have watched long critical role videos just because you spoke so warmly about them and i wanted to know what it meant. I love having you here. 💕💕

@mxmollusca - Mx 💕 (dont know your name so i am just calling you that) I mean you are an incredible writer. I have only managed to read ifwts once because i cried so much that i am scared to open it again because i might just never stop crying. You are creative and funny and absolutely totally normal about rhys darby which in my book is a very good thing to be. And besides that you are a very friendly and nice mutual who is always a pleasure to interact with. 💕💕

@poisonintopositivity - Lilias💕 We have not talked much but we have been mutuals for a very long time and i hope you know that i appreciate you greatly as a mutual and you always but the best posts on my dash!💕💕

@glam-hutchence - Birb 💕💕my dear bird lover! You are a sweet potatoe and i love reading about your love for music and the concerts you go to.💕 Its so nice to take a little part of your life. You are always there for me and i always get happy when i talk to you. You are like a little happy pill! 💕💕

@turtles-on-turts - Turts 💕 Whenever i see a turtle i think about you. Its your brand! You make amazing art! and the ones on canvas always blow me away. 💕💕 Its incredible. You are also so very pretty and i have that picture of you in your depression robe with all the pigeons imprinted in my mind because it such a cute one. You are always very friendly and i love reading your personal posts as well. 💕💕

@vonlipwig - Franky 💕 You bring me lots of normality about rhys darby but these days also a huge bunch of normality about david tennant which i appreciate a lot. You are very nice and i stand by my assesment that you have a very cool aura!💕💕

@haeva - Mar my beloved💕 You bring me my wifes emily and valkyrie and a bunch of amazing posts about everything i can imagine. You are loving and sweet and good at maths which i am always very impressed by. I love being your mutual and doing ask games with you is a pleasure!💕💕

@mykonossalome - Myko💕 When i see moomin i think of you because i know how much you love it. We dont talk as much as i would like but the interactions we have had has meant a lot to me and i love seeing you posting about the things you love! 💕💕

@cottoncandiescupcakes - Cupcake 💕 I love that you are always so excited over our boy the swede and its a pleasure to compare language with you. We can continue fighting if the swede belong to the dutch or the swedes but that is a pleasure!💕💕

@mister-brightside - Andrea my dear💕. Your art is always perfect and whenever i see a picture of izzy giving the middle finger i think about you! Its your brand and its your picture now and no one can change that. You are sweet and caring and a lovely mutual to have. thank you!💕💕

@merryfinches - Kylie 💕 What can i say more than that i ADORE your fanart. The colours the style the softness of it all is exactly what we all need in these times. Every single time it shows up on my dash it makes my heart grows softer and my love grow stronger! I love it so so much. 💕

@ofmd-ann - Ann 💕 You glorious glorious gifmaker! Your gifs are always beautiful and these last days you have saved me with your wrecked edits. As a supplier of rhys darby gifs i love you forever. You are a hero love. 💕💕

@usersukuna - Bia 💕You are a gif magician. Your gifs are perfect and you are also very kind and sweet and i am so glad i can call you a mutual! You light up tumblr like no one else and i am always happy to see you on my dash.💕💕

If you are not in this list it does not mean that i dont love you or have forgotten about you it means that tumblr has put a limit to how many people you can tag which sucks. But if i follow you then it means i love and appreciate you. 💕💕💕 And you know what? We will make it through this hard and trying times of greedy streaming services putting an end to our gay pirates show. I love you all and you know what??

We will make it through as A CREW!

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Part 12

I am sooooooooooooooooooooooooooo sorry for this.

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Angst (!!!), murder, blood, guns, violence, death.

(I PROMISE EVERYTHING WILL BE OKAY! You've just gotta trust me.)

Word Count: 2,724

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

He can’t take the silence any longer. You should have been home hours ago.

All his texts go unanswered and his calls go straight to voicemail. You’ve had late nights at the HYDRA base, but never this late – never an early morning kind of late.

He knows you’re capable. Knows that you’re one of the strongest people, the best agent, the best everything, but something doesn’t feel right. He can’t feel you. He knows that’s stupid – that he isn’t psychic or empathic or whatever he’d need to be to feel someone’s presence when they’re not in the room with him, but he’s always felt you. 

He can feel you down in his bones, his body unable to forget your voice, your laugh, your smell, your body beside, on, under his own. There’s no one in this universe that he knows better, that knows him better, than anyone else. 

Used to know. Until he fucked it up. Until he fucked everything up and drove you away. Drove you so far away that you weren’t even on the same continent for months, that you never picked up the phone and called him, that you didn’t send any silly texts at 2 am like you used to. He was too embarrassed and ashamed of his reaction to contact you first. He thought it’d be too impersonal to apologize over the phone and admit how scared he was when you confessed to loving him and how sorry he is for what he did afterwards.

That’s why he sent Steve and Sam to bring you home: so that he could see you again and explain himself to you and hopefully confess that, yes of course he loves you too. He was so nervous as he watched the quinjet approach, worried that you wouldn’t like his outfit, or the stubble on his jaw, or his new haircut that he got for you because he remembered how often you’d run your fingers through it and comment on how hot you thought shorter hair would look on him.

But then he cornered you in that hallway. Felt his heart break as you told him that you got over him, that you didn’t love him anymore and never did in any meaningful way. You assured him that you could be friends again if that’s what he wanted.

Of course that’s what he wanted. Of course he wanted to be friends. But he also wanted everything else – what you had before that night at the movies and what you could have had after. He wanted the date nights, and forehead kisses, and hand holding. He wanted the quick fucks, and makeout sessions, and love-making. He wanted all of it with you.

He still does. 

But you don’t.

He will forever regret the words he said to you that drove you away and dissolved the love that you felt for him. He will never forgive himself for taking away your future together. And after that disastrous conversation with you about Petre, he feels like he’s gone right back to square one. He doesn’t know what to do with his emotions and can’t express himself properly to save his life.

He knows what you said, knows the meaning behind the individual words you spoke to him last night: that you and Petre are not together in any way. But Bucky knows that isn’t what Petre wants – knows that Petre wants you in a way that Bucky used to have you, that Bucky could have had you, and more. Because Bucky sees the way that Petre looks at you, the way his eyes follow you around the room as you say hello and chat with his family when they’re around.

Knows that Petre has already asked his mother if she knew of anything else about you before he moved forward with a proposal, if there was somewhere specific he should do it, what else to bring besides his grandmother’s ring. Petre had been across the room with Tessa during this conversation, but Bucky’s serum-enhanced hearing picked it up and he knew that Petre was head-over-heels for you because how could he not be?

He’ll also never forgive himself if something happened to you at HYDRA. Your argument from last night has been lingering between the two of you, and he doesn’t know what to do to fix it – it’s just the actual process and action of initiating that conversation and exposing his squishy insides to you that causes his brain to shut down and his mouth to spew out stupid shit. He knows that you would never turn him away for being vulnerable, but just the way he’s acted when feelings have come up… it leaves a sour taste in his mouth and he’s sure it’s left one in yours as well. 

But you were supposed to call him at lunchtime and he would have said everything he’s been bottling up right then and there. Would have blurted it out because god damn him and his stupid mouth because every time he’s tried to bring it up, he’s fucked up and he hurt you. He doesn’t want to – can’t do that to you again. If you had just called when you said you would, it would have all been cleared up by now and you’d be home and hopefully in his arms and, and, and.

But you didn’t call. You’re not home. Bucky hasn’t apologized.

He’s already called Steve and requested backup – he’d rather be safe than sorry. Now all he’s waiting on is –

His phone that he’d left faceup on the countertop before him beeps and the screen flashes with a notification. Tony finally sent the link to track your location, letting him know where you’re at. Before his heart can even beat again, another message scrolls across the top of his screen.

That’s all Bucky needs before he races out the door, not even bothering to grab a coat before the door slams behind him. Tony’s second message burns behind Bucky’s eyes and makes it hard to think.

Hurry. Something’s not right…

***

The ATV Bucky ‘borrowed’ off one of the neighbors is perfectly capable of getting someone where they’re going, but Bucky grew frustrated with the speed as soon as he raced away with it. He’d have been happier on his souped-up motorcycle, roaring down the roads and sending gravel flying, but it’d be impractical on the freshly fallen snow and hilly terrain. 

His heart stutters in his chest every time he looks down at your tracker’s location and doesn't see it moving. There’s no way you’d be sitting idly in one spot deep in the forest, nearly 20 miles away from the HYDRA base and the house you’ve been sharing with Bucky. The home the two of you have made since arriving.

He thinks of how the two of you should be at the house now - fast asleep, maybe in the same bed if he’d found the right words to tell you what’s been going on in his head, why he was being such a asshole yesterday and how he never should have said any of the shit he did – or at least phrased it better, correctly. 

Every time Bucky remembers your fight last night, he feels the air leave his lungs and a fist form in his throat. The way your face had crumpled when he said you could be together again but then immediately shifted into a flat stare, no emotion evident when you told him that he was the reason that could never happen. Your broken voice when he tried to approach you again when he followed you home. The wrenching, muffled sobs he could hear you trying to smother across the hall as he laid there wide awake, his own tears soaking the pillow.

If Bucky could turn back time, he never would have asked you to be friends-with-benefits. His emotions were all over the place and he was still relishing his freedom, his autonomy that had been returned to him. He didn’t think he wanted any kind of committed relationship back then because he thought it would suffocate him, make him feel like he wasn’t his own person anymore, that there was someone that he had to answer to again.

He should have known that you wouldn’t have made him feel that way – that you are the exception to every rule and that you always helped build him up, never once did anything that made him feel suffocated or out of control. He’d been the one to initiate your friendship, he’d been the one that sought you out for no-strings-attached sex. You’d only ever been there for him, followed him when he needed to get away from the others, listened when he needed to talk to someone. Loved him when he didn’t want to be loved.

And what did he do with that love? He threw it away, crushed it under the sole of his boot in that alley way, let you walk away from his life when you should have worked it out together.

When he’d finally gotten his head out of his ass and realized that all the late nights, deep conversations, the comfort and warmth he felt in your presence: that was love. He didn’t recognize it at the time, but he knew that you were important to him, that you were the only one he could spend so much time with and not become overwhelmed. It took you leaving for him to realize everything that you did for him, all the support you offered. 

He spent a lot of time with his therapist after that. He used to be so angry at you and he knew it was unfair, that it wasn’t logical to be so mad at someone for falling in love, but he was. His therapist listened to his deepest, darkest, most wretched feelings about you, about himself. They helped him to realize that he wasn’t mad at you, that he was only frightened of the love you had for him and the feelings that brought up in him. He didn’t realize he found himself so unlovable and broken that he didn’t think anyone could love him like that. Could love him like you do. 

Did. Love him like you did until he ruined that love like he always knew he would, deep down. It took a lot of time and effort, but he finally understands what he feels for you. 

But now it might be too late.

Bucky is only a mile out from your location when he hears the barking of dogs and men yelling to each other. He pushes the ATV faster, dodging between trees and ducking under branches. Seconds later, Bucky sees lights bouncing off of a decrepit shack and agents wearing HYDRA uniforms scrambling around. 

He takes one hand off the handle and pulls his pistol from the waistband of his pants. He clears the treeline and jumps from the vehicle, ducking and rolling onto the ground. The ATV flies forward and knocks down one of the agents. They all turn to investigate the commotion, and Bucky starts firing.

He shoots one, two, three people off of their feet and they collapse onto the ground in pools of blood. Realizing at this point that Bucky is a threat, the others around the cabin pull their weapons out and aim for Bucky. He clears the next six with one shot each, leaving only two standing and no bullets left in his magazine. Bucky launches the empty pistol straight into one of the assailant’s temples, sending him sprawling. At the same second the pistol leaves his hand, Bucky sprints at the remaining HYDRA agent and slams his metal fist into their face, blood and bone splattering.

Grabbing the gun from this last agent, Bucky grips it in his fist and enters the building. Pivoting side to side, there’s no one immediately in his line of sight. He can see blood spatters around the room, in front of the bookshelf and desk, and a pool of it right in front of him in the archway between rooms. Bucky can hear someone just on the other side of the wall and he adjusts his hands around the gun, finger hovering over the trigger. 

Quickly rounding the open archway, Bucky finds his worst nightmare.

He sees you lying motionless on the ground, your warm, red blood steaming as it puddles around your body. A HYDRA operative stands over you, gun poised and ready. 

Without another thought, Bucky unloads the weapon. He riddles the final agent with bullet holes, ensuring that their finger will never pull the trigger on you. He doesn’t watch as they fall, instead running towards you with only one thought in his head: Please. Please be alive.

Bucky reaches your body where you lie on your side, facing away from him. He quickly rolls you onto your back and watches as your head lolls from the motion. 

“Y/N,” he calls hoarsely, placing his hands on your cheeks and patting quickly. “Y/N. Doll, wake up.” 

Your eyes remain closed and you don’t move. Heart in his throat, Bucky places his fingers on your neck.

Nothing.

“Oh god,” Bucky whines.

Nausea roils in his stomach as Bucky places his hands one over the other on your chest, fingers interlocked. He begins compressions, forcing your heart to circulate what little blood remains in your veins. He feels your ribcage creak and groan under the pressure, knowing he will break bones but hoping the effort will revive you.

Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. 

Bucky removes his hands from your chest and uses them to tilt your head backwards, opening up your airway. He clamps your nose shut and presses his lips over yours, forcing two breaths into your lungs. He returns immediately to chest compressions, counting up to thirty again and repeating the process.

“Come on, doll. Come back to me.”

It feels like hours that Bucky crouches over your body, working hard to manually pump your heart and keep your brain oxygenated. He doesn’t know how long you’ve been without a pulse, but he’ll do anything to give you a chance at survival.

A loud whirring sound comes from outside and Bucky can hear boots hit the ground. He panics for a second, wondering how he’s going to keep you safe while also keeping you alive, until he hears Steve’s voice.

“Buck? Y/N?!”

“In here!” Bucky yells frantically.

Multiple people come barreling into the kitchen where Bucky is administering CPR. Shock and dread wash over everyone’s faces at the sight in front of them, but Bucky doesn’t have time for them to stand around. You don’t have time.

“Help her!” he cries, lungs and muscles burning. “Please!”

Natasha tries to rush forward, but her booted leg slows her down. Steve and Sam collapse on either side of your body, Sam pushing Bucky out of the way to start his own compressions. Bucky thunks to the ground, his body exhausted from the fear and effort of the last little while.

Wanda runs in, using her powers to suspend the regeneration cradle in the air and bring it over to you. Tony and Nat help Steve and Sam lift you up off the ground and into the machine as Bucky watches your cooling blood drip, drip, drip from your body.

Wanda’s face is wet with tears as she picks the cradle back up with you inside. Using a pulse from his palm, Tony blows a hole in the kitchen wall. Scraps of paper fly off the table and land near Bucky. Wanda takes you directly outside and into the waiting quinjet, Nat and Tony running alongside her. 

A blast of cold air from the open wall slams into Bucky and chills him to his core. He looks down at himself and finds his hands and legs covered in blood. Your blood. One of the pieces of paper catches his eye as it turns red where it lays on the floor. He scoops it up gently and tries to make out what is written.

Bucky can tell instantly that it is your handwriting, but it’s nearly illegible now. He can barely make anything out, and what he can rips his heart to shreds. A wet hiccup tears out of Bucky’s throat and his hands start to quake uncontrollably as he stares at your words.

In case these are my last words,

Don’t be sad. I wish that I could  have spent the rest of my life with you. I just want you all to know that I love you. so , so much. 

“I’m too late,” he whispers. “She’s… she’s…”

Steve and Sam grab either of Bucky’s arms and drag him to his feet. 

“We’ve gotta go, pal,” Steve says. “We’ve gotta get her to Helen!” Nodding his head, Bucky allows his friends to lead him outside and onto the jet. 

He watches you lying in the cradle, not moving, the entire way home.

Part 13

Tag list: @jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshine @happinessinthebeing @nash-dara @calwitch @stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283 @terry2227

[daydream-cement]

hello, i would like to request a one-shot of Larissa's kid coming out as transmasc and sort of explaining to her what it is (in my case I am trans and some what a man,but most of the time just nb) and she accepting them and just fluff, if possible reader could use they/he pronouns

Love You All The Same

Larissa Weems & transmasc!reader

Authors Note: I've had a few requests to write something similar. I've been a little nervous to write this because I want to be responsive to the transmasc experience. I hope I did this justice <3

I used the prompt from anon to write the intersections of the reader and my own personal conversations with my nonbinary partner to write this. And a huge thank you to my sweet @booitsrue for helping me write this.

"No... Mom. It's not quite like that..." Your mother sat on the couch with you. Her leg was tucked under the other and she leaned against the back of the couch, her head propped up on her hand. You could tell that she was trying hard to understand your gender as she nodded and looked at you with serious intent, "I identify more with masculinity than femininity and for me, most of the time I'm non-binary with a preference for masculinity."

"Okay..." She was nodding, her eyes staring off into space as she considered your words, "And... and your pronouns would be they/them, right?"

"No, no, I use he and they." You gesture with your hands as you speak, allowing them to help you get your point across.

"Okay... So he/they?"

"Well, yes, but I prefer they/he. So I am non-binary and a masc person, but have a preference for non binary pronouns." You go into a little more depth with her and you can see the flash in her eyes when everything seems to click for her.

"Oh- I see. I see! So... when I call you sweetie or dear... will- does that make you feel bad? Would you like me to change those pet names? I don't want-" Larissa cut herself off, nervous that her questions would sound out-of-touch or ignorant, "What would you like me to call you?"

"Your pet names are okay, mom." You were happy with the questions she was asking as it seemed like she was really thinking about the way she thought of you.

"Would you like to go to Burlington and get new clothes or things that you need...what else would make it easier-? Or- ???"

"Well, clothes is just part of it..." You glance down to the blanket covering your legs, nervous for her reaction to some of the changes to come, "I would also want to discuss getting a haircut, and having my name at school changed to a nickname, or preferred name... hormones... and all that can come a little later. I think- I think I still have to settle into all of these new things..."

"I see..." Larissa was silent for a moment after she spoke, mulling over how she could help you with these changes, "...So would I call you my son-? Or my child? Both??"

You stop and think for a moment, looking back up at your mother and smiling at how concerned she was to learn all of this new information, "Son, son works."

She reaches out, pressing a hand to your cheek, "Thank you for talking with me about this."

"Yeah.. Of course." You lean your face into her hand, happy for the contact and comfort from her.

"I love you all the same... if not more." Her nose scrunched with her last three words, emphasizing how much she loved you. Then she pulled you into her, offering you a bone-crushing hug with kisses scattered all over your face and head.

[crossedsabers10s]

I don't know if you see those or not but everytime I need a pick me up I always go and read your fanfics. "Quill dipped in red" is a particular favorite since it's a sort of anthology of the genius happening in your head and I just wanted to say thank you 🫶

The stories you elaborate on have been breathtaking and the snippets are perfectly teasing for more. I've been going over Quill and I would very much love more of "blood of the covenant" if you have extra thoughts on it. It's just a wonderful concept with Kol knowing them beforehand and sharing some kind of affection towards them, especially your version of Damon and Enzo. It feels fun.

Oh and thank you for sharing your talent -🥀

Thank you!!!!!!

Having an Original Vampire turn up on the doorstep and wait for entry like it’s something owed—again—leaves a bad taste in Stefan’s mouth. Damon, who somehow knows this one and refuses to elaborate as to how, stares at the problem lurking on their porch, eyes narrowed, face unreadable.

Unreadable, except, it appears, to the problem himself. “Well?” says Kol. “Are you not going to offer hospitality to an old friend? I’ve had a long night of stabbing Niklaus, I’d like some refreshment.”

Blood flecks his hands, his shirt—a get up straight from the seventies, complete with the haircut to match—is crusted underneath his fingernails. Judging from the smell and the silver dagger held loosely in one hand, he’s telling the truth.

Damon eyes him a second longer. Then turns a deliberate look Elena and Stefan’s way before looking back at Kol.

“I will,” Kol says, bloodstained hand over his heart, “of course, refrain from afflicting your little brother and the doppelgänger with permanent harm for the duration of….” He thinks for a second. “Oh, let us say a week.”

Damon’s eyebrow arches.

Kol sighs, but concedes. “Any harm, permanent or no. Physical only, mind you.”

Damon nods, apparently satisfied. He looks at Elena, who shakes her head. She’s the one that needs to invite the Original in. “Damon, I don’t think—“

“I’ll buy you your own Original proof house,” Damon offers before she can say no. “The others already have invites into this one anyway. What’s one more?”

“I think this is a terrible idea,” Stefan announces, knowing no one is listening. As suspected, he’s ignored, save the short glances they both give him.

“A new house?” Elena says, unimpressed. “That’s, what? Three now? I don’t need a new house, Damon.”

Cajoling, Damon says, “But do you want one? I’ll throw in an in-ground pool.”

“What am I going to do with a whole house? I have a home. And this house. Remember?”

Damon’s nose wrinkles slightly at the reminder. Stefan can read that expression—Damon dislikes having a place he considers his in another’s hands. Elena’s little invite game could have easily ended in blood rather than laughter. “Vampire proof safe house! You can have your friends over for sleepovers. I won’t even ask for an invite, I swear.” He pauses, then throws her a grin. “Unless you want me there.”

Elena frowns harder.

Smile dropping off his face, Damon glares.

Elena glares right back.

Both Damon and Elena keep looking at each other, locked in a battle of wills, reading each other's minds just to argue about what they find there; he’s glad Elena, at least, seems to have an idea of what’s running through Damon’s head, because Stefan doesn’t have a clue.

He’s still kind of hung up on maybe or maybe not having an adopted brother that no one bothered to tell him about.

How legal can this adoption be anyway? Does it count if their family branch is dead?

“Salvatore,” the Original says. Stefan doesn’t flinch—because he has remained very much aware of the 70’s themed Viking standing on the porch—but he does turn to Kol, leaning back on his heels and crossing his arms. “This is pathetic. Is this not your house?”

Damon breaks his staring contest with Elena—the one he was losing—and looks at Kol and gestures to Elena. “Yeah, well.”

Kol shakes his head, smirk curling at his lips. He resembles Elijah more than Klaus, but that expression could have been copy pasted right from the Hybrid’s face. To Elena, he says, “I’ve already sworn not to harm you. If you’d like to negotiate further: I do believe I have information you’d be interested in knowing.”

“Information?” Damon questions. He frowns at Kol, tilting his head and studying the Original. Stefan can’t see what Damon sees—Kol looks perfectly at ease, standing there, blood splattered and smug—but Damon is obviously picking up on something. If he didn’t know better, he’d call his brother concerned.

Concerned. For a vampire quintuple times their age and no doubt just as capable of destruction as his siblings.

Damon turns to Elena, eyes the slightest bit wide. “Elena….”

Elena studies him for a beat. Her sigh sounds a lot like concession. “You really are friends, huh?”

Remaining silent, Damon nods.

She nods back, something passing between them. “Alright. Alright. Kol—Kol, right?—I invite you in.”

Kol grins. “Thank you, doppel-dear.”

In a split second, he’s off the porch, suddenly inside the house. Stefan hadn't seen him move.

Their newest guest has scrubbed up and availed himself to some of Stefan’s clothes—as they're closer in height than the Original and Damon. Stefan isn’t all that great at judging ages normally, but Kol looks young, sitting on a sofa in borrowed clothes with a mug in his hands.

“So,” Stefan starts, wanting to get this oh-so important information out of the vampire before he conveniently forgets. “You said you have information?”

Taking one last sip from his mug before settling it aside, Kol hums. “Yes. Elijah undaggered us, as you well know—“

“Yeah,” Stefan bites out. “We were there. I almost got shoved into a fireplace. I remember.”

Kol ignores the interruption. “—but, somehow, it turned into an even more surprising family reunion.” Without further ado, he informs them, “Mother has been resurrected. Somehow. Bogus, isn’t it?”

“Your mother,” Stefan says, flat.

Elena echoes his disbelief. “The Original Witch?”

“Yes,” Kol says, waving a hand. “Her. Very freaky. I bugged out before he could go totally whack-job or Mother could finish the guilt trip she was on.”

Elena almost chokes on an inhale. When Stefan jerks his head towards her it's to find her mouthing the words bugged out to herself.

Stefan frowns in thought. “Do you know why—?”

“Or how,” Damon interjects.

“Why or how your mother has been brought back to life?”

Kol smiles brightly. “No.” He claps his hands together and turns to Damon. “Now! That’s my price paid. Tell me what I've missed. Give me the skinny.”

Elena makes a wheezing sound. Stefan pats blindly at her arm.

Damon thinks for a second. “Let’s see… you disappeared in ‘78.”

Kol wrinkles his nose. “Yes. My brothers caught up with me.”

“Right. And then shoved you in a box for a few decades.”

Damon nods thoughtfully to himself, then offers up a brief summary of world events. One that focuses mostly on musical development and random facts that Stefan cannot fathom the reason he included them. Kol pipes up with questions about this or that or what happened to them—a few of the names Stefan recognizes. The rest have faded into history.

Elena, who has been up all night and the night before, is yawning. She almost nods off once Damon starts listing musicians.

Damon finishes with a promise to get Kol a phone with internet and a matching computer.

For someone who has had three decades of random facts shoved down their throat, Kol seems nonplussed by the deluge. He’s probably used to missing years worth of developments. How many times have he and his siblings had to adapt to a new century? “And your brother?” he asks, glancing at Stefan for a second before dismissing him. “Not that one, the other.”

Stefan does not twitch. He’s not sure how he feels about Damon suddenly having another brother, but he doesn’t think he likes it.

Not because he’s jealous.

It’s just concerning. Damon’s spent a century complaining about not being an only child and suddenly he adopts some random guy? Some random guy than an Original knew about before he did?

“He’s fine,” Damon says. Elena suddenly seems much more awake, and is looking at all of them in turns, like she’s not sure who she should be paying the most attention to. “In Spain like I said. Actually, uh, what’s the time? He might have caught his flight out by now.”

Kol makes a go on motion.

Damon shrugs. “He’s on the way here. Told him I found you.”

“Found?” Kol repeats, drawing out the word like he’s unsure about its meaning. “Found implies you were looking for me.”

“Yeah,” Damon says with no hesitation. “We did.”

Kol blinks. “You… did?” Whatever shock he’d suffered is swiftly recovered from. “Of course you did, no doubt you missed me.”

“Eh,” Damon tips a hand back and forth. “Sometimes.”

“You missed me,” Kol asserts.

“Fine. A little. We searched the city for almost three months.”

“Lucky you didn’t find me,” Kol says. “Or, rather, find my brothers.”

Damon shrugs again. “Maybe. We, uh, kept looking for a while”—Stefan isn’t sure how long a while is, but suspects it’s longer than Damon feels comfortable admitting—“before we bit the bullet and asked a favor from Bethany.”

“Bethany?” Kol says, sounding surprised. Stefan doesn’t recognize the name, but he seems to. “London’s Ripper?”

Stefan goes still. A Ripper?

“Yeah,” Damon says, not looking Stefan’s way even as he tries to burn a hole through his brother’s head. “Charged us through the nose for it. Got her girlfriend to do a locator spell, one of the good ones, the kind that should have given us your exact address plus your social security number. Except it didn’t do jack. Valentine doesn’t fudge spells. So, we figured you were dead.”

“What did you pay?” Kol asks abruptly, gaze intense on Damon. “For the spell.”

“Nothing.”

“Do not lie to me.” There is a killer in Stefan’s living room. One with a straight backed stare that has seen this world turn for centuries. It doesn’t matter that Kol looks like he should be in school, that he is wearing borrowed clothes, had come to their doorstep to escape his family imploding, and speaks in outdated slang. All of that has been stripped away to reveal a monster in their midst. “It doesn’t matter if it didn’t go as planned. Bethany is cunning as she is ruthless. She would have had you agree to pay for the attempt.”

“Nothing,” Damon says again, unperturbed. “We just… owe her a favor. To be collected when she chooses. You know her, she’s probably going to sit on it for a century or two.”

Some of the intensity fades from Kol’s face. But not all. “That’s not better,” he says lightly. “You realize that’s worse than a straight exchange.”

Damon only rolls his eyes.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Stockbroker's Clerk pt 1

I don't know if the title of this one just never stuck in my mind, or if I have never read it. It's not the most inspiring title ACD has ever written, so maybe I just forgot about it.

...which saw Holmes and I leave the comforts of London to visit the city of Birmingham...

Oh hey! It's Brum. That's kind of cool. If I did read this as a kid it probably wouldn't have meant much because I'd been to London but I hadn't been to Birmingham. However, now having spent a not insignificant portion of my life living not too far from Birmingham and a year working there (for no money, ask me my opinions on unpaid internships, I dare you), this definitely means more to me. I'm not super familiar with Birmingham, but I am familiar-ish.

Shortly after my marriage I had bought a connection in the Paddington district. Old Mr. Farquhar, from whom I purchased it, had at one time an excellent general practice; but his age, and an affliction of the nature of St. Vitus's dance from which he suffered, had very much thinned it.

Not to try to deskchair diagnose or anything, but does Old Mr Farquhar have Parkinsons? Is that what he's saying? I guess there are probably other illnesses that manifest as involuntary motion, but that was where my brain went.

The public not unnaturally goes on the principle that he who would heal others must himself be whole, and looks askance at the curative powers of the man whose own case is beyond the reach of his drugs.

Yeah, this sucks. I mean, surely if your doctor's still alive they must be doing something right. Also, this reminds me of that old brainteaser about the two barbers in town. Do you go to the one with the good haircut or the one with the bad haircut. Obviously the one with the bad haircut because he doesn't cut his own hair. Doesn't really work for doctors, I suppose, but that was my immediate thought.

I heard a ring at the bell, followed by the high, somewhat strident tones of my old companion's voice.

Oh wow. Holmes came to Watson. On his own two feet. He didn't just send a letter. Watson didn't show up on the doorstep of 221B at a loose end because his wife was visiting her 'mother'. Holmes actually walked right into Watson's house.

And inquires after their health. He is doing all the socially correct things. He is getting an excellent score in being a house guest.

“To-day, for example?” “Yes, to-day, if you like.” “And as far off as Birmingham?”

I actually went and looked at a Bradshaw's guide to look this up, because I was interested in knowing how quick a train to Birmingham was in the 1890s. About 3 and a half hours, apparently. These days the fastest train from London Euston to Birmingham New Street is about an hour and a quarter. If HS2 (ugh) ever gets finished, they say it will take 49 minutes. But yeah, 3 and a half hours is a bit of a trek for a spontaneous trip (in the UK, I know in the US you think that's a perfectly normal amount of time to travel to get breakfast, but these stories are set in the UK so I'm keeping my UK expectations glasses on.)

“I perceive that you have been unwell lately. Summer colds are always a little trying.”

Holmes hasn't seen his bff in a little while and needs to show off. Perfectly fair.

“I am afraid that I rather give myself away when I explain,” said he. “Results without causes are much more impressive. You are ready to come to Birmingham, then?”

Hence why he hasn't explained why he's going to Birmingham. I love that Holmes is always eager to show off his working and teach Watson, but then we often get this little 'oh, I shouldn't have explained, it's so much more impressive if it's a mystery' moment afterwards.

“Ah! Then you got hold of the best of the two.” “I think I did. But how do you know?” “By the steps, my boy. Yours are worn three inches deeper than his."

I was confused by this because I was thinking 'surely the best one is the one with the best doctor, so that's more on Watson than the building.' Then I realised that Holmes is talking from Watson's perspective, so the best one is the one that came with the most patients. So yeah. Pre-NHS medicine was wild. 'Oh a new doctor just bought my practice, so you're his patient now. Also he believes in Miasma theory. Good lu-u-uck. Toodles!'

The man whom I found myself facing was a well built, fresh-complexioned young fellow, with a frank, honest face and a slight, crisp, yellow mustache. He wore a very shiny top hat and a neat suit of sober black, which made him look what he was—a smart young City man, of the class who have been labeled cockneys, but who give us our crack volunteer regiments, and who turn out more fine athletes and sportsmen than any body of men in these islands.

A yellow moustache and a shiny top hat. That's very distinctive.

Getting a bit condescending and classist again at the end there, Watson.

a half-comical distress

Dude. 'Guy looks so sad I almost laughed' is such a thing to say. Is this supposed to indicate that some of his distress is exaggerated, or is Watson just laughing at him for showing emotions? I guess it's not very stiff-upper-lip of him, what what.

"It is a case, Watson, which may prove to have something in it, or may prove to have nothing, but which, at least, presents those unusual and outré features which are as dear to you as they are to me."

Holmes is really there saying right in front of this guy that his case is so weird he just had to tell his friend. This is so unprofessional, I'm laughing.

Imagine someone coming to you with a problem that's really upsetting them, and as soon as you hear it you're like, 'we have to get my bff' and then after you've dragged your friend in as well you say ''OK, so bestie, this might be pointless, but it might be super weird, and I know you love the weird ones. Listen to this."

Oh god... Watson is like one of those nurses who posts weird cases on tiktok. He really is. Oh no. Now I've thought that I can't unthink it. No!

“The worst of the story is,” said he, “that I show myself up as such a confounded fool. Of course it may work out all right, and I don't see that I could have done otherwise; but if I have lost my crib and get nothing in exchange I shall feel what a soft Johnnie I have been."

OK, so when ACD said cockney he meant 'hold my beer, I'm doing slang.' Right, gotcha. This is going to be a thing.

Also, I love this man already. This is such a me thought process. I hope he doesn't turn out to be a dick. I will feel so betrayed.

I'm not going to quote the entire next passage, my tl;dr summary of it is:

Mr Pycroft used to work for a company that had a financial crisis and had to let him go. He got a good reference, but because so many people were let go, they were all trying to get the same jobs. He's running out of money and applying to every job he can find, but no luck. He saw an ad for a job at literally The Best Company, but they only accepted applications by post, and he got the job. And he's getting a 33% rise on his last job.-

I'm already getting bad vibes about this. 'only apply by post'?? No in person interview? Job seems too good to be true? Getting paid more than in his previous job when clearly there's so much competition for jobs at the moment that they wouldn't need to do that to attract applicants?

"...up came my landlady with a card which had “Arthur Pinner, Financial Agent,” printed upon it."

If he has it on a card then it must be true.

“‘Well,’ said he, ‘the fact is that I have heard some really extraordinary stories about your financial ability. You remember Parker, who used to be Coxon's manager? He can never say enough about it.’"

Look, my company gives me security training like... constantly. I have seen so many videos about phishing and spear phishing and smishing and all other ishings that some of it was bound to stick and this. CLASSIC fraud technique. Name drop someone official that the mark will know? Classic. Establishes a false connection and a false sense of authenticity. Oh well, if he knows Parker he must be alright.

Also, appealing to Mr Pycroft's ego... this is absolutely and totally not a scam. Can't you see how he's got 'Not a Scam' written on his forehead?

“‘Now that shows real application!’ he cried. ‘That is the way to prosper! You won't mind my testing you, will you? Let me see. How are Ayrshires?’ “‘A hundred and six and a quarter to a hundred and five and seven-eighths.’ “‘And New Zealand consolidated?’“

Yeah, he doesn't know what any of those things are. He's not checking anything. He's just asking you questions to seem real and like he knows stuff. He doesn't know anything.

"'My boy, my boy, you are very much too good to be a clerk at Mawson's!’"

Oh boy... is there a scam within a scam happening here? Like, I was already suspicious about the job he got at Mawson's, and now there's another layer to it? What convoluted webs are being woven here.

“‘Ha, ha! I think I would risk a little sporting flutter that you don't go there at all.’"

Ah, well that explains the answer to 'what's going to happen when he turns up to a job that doesn't exist.'

“‘No, sir. By that day you will be the business manager of the Franco-Midland Hardware Company, Limited, with a hundred and thirty-four branches in the towns and villages of France, not counting one in Brussels and one in San Remo.’ “This took my breath away. ‘I never heard of it,’ said I."

“‘I must be frank with you,’ said I. ‘Mawson only gives me two hundred, but Mawson is safe. Now, really, I know so little about your company that—’ “‘Ah, smart, smart!’ he cried, in a kind of ecstasy of delight. ‘You are the very man for us. You are not to be talked over, and quite right, too. Now, here's a note for a hundred pounds, and if you think that we can do business you may just slip it into your pocket as an advance upon your salary.’

Aaaaaaand there's the convincer.

Oh boy. Mr Pycroft was being smart about the thing and then they come in with the £100 note and he's lost.

“We picked him out of the gutter, and he won't leave us so easily.” Those were his very words.’ “‘The impudent scoundrel!’ I cried. ‘I've never so much as seen him in my life."

Yes, that does seem weird, doesn't it. Why would a person you have never met who offered you a good job be so insulting about you? Hmm.

“It was a quarter of an hour before my time, but I thought that would make no difference. 126b was a passage between two large shops, which led to a winding stone stair, from which there were many flats, let as offices to companies or professional men. The names of the occupants were painted at the bottom on the wall, but there was no such name as the Franco-Midland Hardware Company, Limited."

I just have this image of Leverage in my head of Sophie talking through the comms to Nate:

"We have a problem."

"What kind of a problem?"

"He's early."

"What do you mean he's early? He's not supposed to be here for another fifteen minutes, the sign's not up! Hardison isn't in position!"

"Well, I suppose when you convinced him this job was important you convinced him a bit too well, Nate. I told you 500 a year was too much."

"He wouldn't have quit Mawson's for less."

"Well now he's fifteen minutes early and he's looking at the companies in the building and We're. Not. On. There."

"Stall him!"

"I'll do what I can, but even I can't convince a man he's seen a sign that doesn't exist."

"Yes you can."

"Well yes, but I shouldn't have to. And that was an entirely different situation, Nate. You know that... You've got five minutes."

"Give me ten."

“‘This is a directory of Paris,’ said he, ‘with the trades after the names of the people. I want you to take it home with you, and to mark off all the hardware sellers, with their addresses. It would be of the greatest use to me to have them.’"

Well, at least it's not copying out the encyclopaedia Britannica this time? And this time the dumb task at least seems partially relevant.

But unlike Mr Jabez Wilson, whose shop was next to a bank, Mr Pycroft here doesn't own property, so why would anyone need to get him out of the house? Especially all the way to Birmingham? Obviously there's got to be a lot of money involved as they gave him £100 as a convincer. (About £10,300 in today's money). That's a hell of a lot to toss away on a whim. There has to be a massive payout.

"'Don't overwork yourself. A couple of hours at Day's Music Hall in the evening would do you no harm after your labors.’ He laughed as he spoke, and I saw with a thrill that his second tooth upon the left-hand side had been very badly stuffed with gold.” Sherlock Holmes rubbed his hands with delight, and I stared with astonishment at our client.

I've got to assume that this means Holmes recognises the tooth (It's a very distinctive tooth) and that's why he's so excited about dentistry.

Also, getting the impression that this work is not very urgent.

“You may well look surprised, Dr. Watson; but it is this way,” said he: “When I was speaking to the other chap in London, at the time that he laughed at my not going to Mawson's, I happened to notice that his tooth was stuffed in this very identical fashion. [...] I could not doubt that it was the same man."

Oooh, yeah. That makes sense. It also implies we're working with a single antagonist rather than a crew. Unless all the other members of the crew are either easily recognisable criminals or just terrible at acting. But it being the same guy totally makes sense.

"Why had he sent me from London to Birmingham? Why had he got there before me? And why had he written a letter from himself to himself?"

I mean... I honestly don't have a clue about this one. Clearly there must be money involved, or else giving away £100 would be ridiculous. All that Mr Pycroft has done so far is go to Birmingham and read through lists of French retailers. It's got him away from London.

UNLESS... the job offer from Mawson's was real? I mean, it had red flags all over it. But if they're planning to do some sort of stockmarket crime with the Best Stockbroker in London then convincing him not to go to work and then sending an imposter in would work. And there is at least one other person involved, but they were needed to pretend to be him. That seems to be the only logical explanation at the moment. So he really did get a job at the best place in town without an interview?

Sending him all the way to Birmingham seems a little excessive, but I guess he'd know all the other places in town and Birmingham is the next biggest city in the country. Finance is pretty centralised in the UK, and I can't imagine that was different in the Victorian era.

Mawson's needs a better hiring policy, though, if that's the case. First they don't even know if the person who turns up is the person they hired. Second, someone managed to get information about a new hire from them before that new hire even had their first day.

If that's not the case, and the Mawson's job was also fraudulent as I initially believed, then I have no clue what's going on.

[goodgrammaritan]

Gratitude Journal

Saturday I had my last session with the therapist I've been seeing for the past year. She is leaving the practice, so I had to decide whether to immediately seek someone new or take a therapy break. She gave me some referrals, but seeing that by this point in our work together I was only seeing her once a month, and that that was sufficient, I told her I'd decided to try going without for a bit.

I thanked her for the work we'd done together, and for pushing me out of my comfort zone into trying new things. (For instance, we did sand tray therapy, something about which I was a bit skeptical, but that resulted in a decrease in the nightmares I've been having about my junior high bullies, nightmares that had been occurring with various frequency for 22 years.)

We both agreed that I was doing well, and that our therapy sessions of late had been more me reporting victories and successes, talking about how I used my therapy skills to cope with difficult situations, rather than expressing shame and regret about how I'd handled things. I told her that I was going to continue tracking my daily moods, and utilizing my support system.

After our session I talked with Noah about it, and asked him to keep an eye on me and tell me if I was hyper focusing or obsessing or falling into bad habits. I told him I knew I was asking a lot, but that I would also be doing my best to be vigilant about my behaviors and actions. He was 100% on board, and told me that he was going to be teasing me about things, because that's just his way of getting me to laugh at myself or take a step back and examine my behavior. He said that if I noticed him teasing me repeatedly about the same thing that that might be a problem area. I laughed and agreed that that was a good plan, and was generally feeling very optimistic.

Here's the thing: Saturday was a packed day. I had done my workout in the morning, then I had my therapy session, then Noah and I picked out new tile to repair our floor and also made a stop at Home Depot. I also did three loads of laundry. And I felt good about all of it, but that's a very spoon-heavy day.

So Sunday I woke up exhausted, had very little energy, and was just going through the motions and being a little morose. I expressed a desire to still attend a yoga class, and Noah said he was surprised because the entire day I'd been all "I'm so tired, I don't want to do things, I have no energy, blah blah blah." And he said it in a bit of an exaggerated tone. He left to get a haircut and I decided to do some proofreading work because sometimes that helps my mood, but then I thought, "Hey, he's teasing me, am I wallowing?" And that was enough to kind of jolt me out of my mopey behavior. I told him about it when I got home, and I said it was rude of him to make me follow through on my post-therapy emotional regulation plan just one day after my last therapy session. "I was planning on doing this, but not so soon!" So we laughed about it, and I asked if it had really been a problem, and he said not really, but sometimes I get comfortable being depressed because it's familiar.

"I'm always depressed."

"Is that your secret? You're always depressed?" Noah asked, paraphrasing The Avengers.

"Yeah, I guess."

Then he said "The Incredible Sulk!" and I burst out laughing. I pretended to be appalled, but come on, that shit's hilarious. So, I'm happy to report that my post-therapy strategies are already a success.

9/5/23

[galactic-pirates]

Fandom Asks for 2022, presuming I can remember what actually was last year

You know what, I get no asks so I ask myself because why not? If I feel like doing something then just do it. Fun can be had. There are no limits. This is my tumblr and I can ramble as I please haha.

So there were 25 questions and I'm just going to see what I feel like rambling about because I do just feel like rambling this evening. I'm having thinky thoughts about fandom because I miss it. I'm in one of those "fuck it, there's no point" kind of moods. I made plans for the year and I am doubting myself. I don't think I can do it. I don't think I have the skills or the spoons. I wasn't good at fandom shit either but hey I had the excuse that it was just for fun, so it didn't matter. I mean it mattered, and it ate at me that I was never as good as I wanted, but it didn't mean doom.

Thinky thoughts!

1) Favourite characters this year

Breanna Casey - Leverage: Redemption. Now I love Leverage and I do love Redemption but the vibe is off. I can't put my finger on why but it's not quite right. I have speculated that it feels like the whole show is a bit exaggerated, like everything is cranked to eleven. However, Breanna is a delight. She is smart and sarcastic, a total nerd, I'm more Parker's generation than hers but I feel like she represents my viewpoint on the state of the world. Also she's gay and might be asexual (hello laptop sticker) and so that's even more like me.

Erica Ortegas - Star Trek: Strange New Worlds. The moment I saw this character I thought I would like them. I love their haircut and their humour and they are badass and there is just never enough of them. I thought my favourite character would be Number One but might be a tie. For all that Ortegas has a criminal lack of screentime, they steal every single scene with awesomeness. Also this show is the prettiest show in the world. It looks incredible on my TV.

2) Favorite ships this year

Like LOTS obviously because I am a multi-fandom obsessive but Trek and Seven and Raffi were a surprising addition. I wasn't expecting it and then bam, they have taken over my brain and hello I didn't need a new fixation but yes just think about nothing else ok? Fun fact! I actually made this gif ^^ because Saffi Prompts is something I helped organise (it's on hiatus atm) and I also put together the Saffi Bingo which didn't see really any traction at all (I sent out cards but I think I saw one fill and that's it). But hey I was all in with these guys.

What makes me so freaking sad is my list of projects for them is HUGE. Like so many drawings and I started writing fic. I have partly plotted a huge season long novel-length rewrite starting at the end of season one, and going beyond season two. I LOVE that idea so much and now I have quit fanfic it is never going to exist. It built on what season one gave us with Soji and the Romulans. Maaaaybe I might have drawn a little teeny tiny bit on Stargate but c'mon replicators and Ancients and it's too damn easy and too much fun.

Oh! Oh! And let's not forget my Raffi on Voyager. I had a crapton of notes and that was just for Seven's first season. To be fair the fic started life as just an image of them kissing in a Jeffries tube and then I gave it plot. I had thoughts and feelings and sometimes I think too deeply about certain episodes and get mad and this is how fanfic happens. Like I'm not even sorry.

I'm not sure how many thousands of words will never see the light of day. Maybe if my drawing skills improve enough I can do one of the dozen drawings I have on my list for them. At least I am still doing fandom art.

3) Favorite TV shows to watch this year

I really want to say Picard but honestly the version in my head is better. Probably shouldn't say that but honestly it was criminal what season two did to Elnor and Soji and just generally. It threw out amazing stuff from season one to focus on an "out of nowhere" storyline about Picard's mum which just ugh.

Honestly the show I have probably watched the most faithfully has been the original Leverage. It is my comfort show and I can rewatch it a bazillion times and don't care.

4) Favorite books read this year

Dragon Gate! Dragon Gate!

Ok I read 42 books last year. I made a real effort. Considering a couple of years ago I probably didn't even read 1 I have come a long way. Anyway, Lindsay Buroker is who I want to be when I grow up as a writer. Rarely ever before have I read something and just wished so hard that I wrote it. Usually I don't vibe with stories that way. I can love them to death but always with an element of "but I want to fix you" but her writing style is similar enough to my own but so much more skilled that I am inspired, and motivated (when I'm not having crisis of self-faith that is) because man I want to write like that.

Dragon Gate is what happens if dragons and magic and all the fun of airships meets Stargate. When I tried to do this writing thing back in 2016 I indie published 2 novels in a series that was basically magic meets Stargate as a general description. So if I do say so myself it's a great premise. My interpretation was very different of course, I mean it started out on Earth and there were aliens but I digress.

Anyway, I'm now reading through as many of Lindsay Buroker's books as I can. Perhaps I'll subconsciously learn to write better through eagerly absorbing the words with my eyes. I mean it's not likely but one can dream.

5) Favorite song, album, or artist to listen to this year

According to iTunes Replay it was Set It Off or Linkin Park or Simple Plan or Panic at the Disco. Although I think my stats got a little warped as I decorated my house this year and my hands got paint on them. So whatever album I set to play in the morning, was repeating all day because I couldn't touch my phone.

11) Biggest squee moments of the year

You mean people don't use squee anymore? Sorry I'm a little stuck on the fact that there was an explanation attached to the question. Anyway! I have to go with a late arrival of the announcement of Jedi: Survivor because OMG I want that game so badly.

After playing Fallen Order I must have googled daily for months hoping there would be some kind of confirmation of a sequel. Once that happened I think I stopped my daily googling but I kept waiting for news and now there's a date!!! (March 17th)

Honestly Fallen Order was the best Star Wars game I have played bar none because the lightsaber combat made sense. Lightsabers are one hit weapons - when they hit - and so having them whittle down a healthbar never felt good. The combat in this game is just epic. The story is great too and the characters (special shout out for BD-1). I can't wait to play more.

24) Fandom resolutions for next year

Last Question! Honestly I don't know because I don't know. Ok no that's not an answer but look I reblogged that "year of the OTP" thing and I want to do it. I have a Leverage bingo card and I have IDEAS and I want to do that. I have signed up for the Bering and Wells exchange (due February 14th) and the Bering and Wells Big Bang.

I want to do ALL THE THINGS!

But time, and spoons, and other commitments, and spoons (always with the spoons). I can't do everything and wanting to do things doesn't magically make them happen. Something has to give, something always does, and so I guess that's my resolution - to decide NOT to do things, because I actually can't do them. Which is super fucking sad by the way.

I'm not good enough. I can't do it all.

Buuuuut I really kinda want to.

It would be so freaking cool to make the projects that live rent free in my head a reality. Perhaps rephrase the resolution to something a little less miserable. Like a suggestion to pace myself, to not over-commit, to think before jumping in with both feet, to not let my single-one-track-obsessive-fixated-mind lead me down an unsustainable path.

And to stick with my resolution to quit fanfic, because burning down all my glorious plans, and opening up those documents again will not serve me longterm. However, much I wish my fanfic ideas could be made reality.

[brainwormsnotgummyworms]

Did I Lose a Piece of Myself or Has She Been There All Along?

How to retrieve blocked messages! 

How to see blocked messages when their number is blocked. ✨

I had blocked his phone number on my phone, I just got a new laptop and all of his texts he sent me while he was blocked just loaded.

When I open my laptop and it shows the last message they sent me after I blocked them. 

How to find blocked messages on iPhone. 

I caved. It started with one TikTok: a video of a teenage girl with her hand over her mouth, her perfectly manicured acrylic nails shining under the white light of her screen, and her bulky rimmed glasses glinted with a reflection of an image of the young girl recording herself. Her slicked back bun and golden chunky hooped earrings were covered with a black-and-white rounded text stating how she found her “blocked messages folder” on her iPhone–unveiling the thousands upon thousands of text messages she received from her ex. All of which consisted of the, “Take me back” pleas.  I don’t know this girl and I don’t know her ex, but I do know myself and what happened between my ex and I–the seemingly heart wrenching story which truly was just a break-up that was waiting to happen at least eight months prior. As I begged and sobbed in the stairwell of my summer dorm, he averted my eyes and laid back upon the concrete wall. “Why am I not enough for you?” I asked between stifled tears. 

Why am I not enough for you? The desperate question danced mournfully in the empty hall–its forlorn message dripped with deplorable pity and anguish as it bounced from wall to wall. 

I never received an answer, but maybe it's better that way. 

The day of the break-up, he had unfollowed and unadded me on all platforms about fifteen minutes after everything happened. To retaliate, I blocked him on every app that I could–except his phone number, of course, because how else would I send desperate texts asking to stay friends!? Eventually, when I finally accepted he would never come back or return my drunken calls, I blocked his number on my birthday; it helped to never know whether or not he would’ve sent that sneaky “birthday text” some of us wish to receive after the breakup. 

Over the past year or so, I have changed into the new and improved woman I like to think of myself as. A new degree; a new home; a new career; a new haircut; a new wardrobe; a new circle of friends; a new piercing or two; a new flourishing girl he will never know nor touch. Even with everything that has changed, I cannot help, but remember how I felt that day in the stairwell–that, in itself, was a new feeling I had never felt before. 

I have moved-on (or at least that’s what I tell myself). I go on dates, I chat with new guys and girls, I fantasize, I flirt, I bat my eyes and purse my lips, and, worst of all, I still think of him. I think of him in the same way you stress about having to pay off your credit card when you spent a little too much that month or when you go to the doctor’s office hoping that your symptoms are not as serious as the internet makes it out to be when you search them up on Google. He clouds my thoughts like an oil spill in a fresh green lake; the thick, black liquid shines rainbow on the baby duck’s yellow feathers as it tries to escape the woods. It’s just a dark storm which always looms at the back of my mind no matter how many sunny days I have. 

Today, I found myself getting sucked back into the haunted forest of lost memories–my normally yellow feathers now slicked back in gleaming black goo. I watched the tutorials and did as they said: 1) Opened my Phone app. 2) Clicked on my voicemails. 3) Scrolled alllllll the way down. 4) Found the tab that said, “Blocked Messages.” My heart began to race and my head was pounding. I couldn’t believe it was so easy to access this “hidden secret” that was seemingly right in my face for the entirety of this past year. As I readied myself to open up the forbidden chambers of Blocked Messages, I envisioned the waterfall of voicemails from my ex just as the girl in the TikTok did. I imagined his voice creeping through the phone and finally asking me through broken tears, “Why am I not enough for you?” I finally clicked on the tab after what felt like an eternity, my hands trembling, just to find…

Spam calls. 

It was all the spam numbers I had blocked throughout the year–nothing else. Taken aback, I listened to nearly every voicemail trying to convince myself it was him. Maybe in this voicemail I’ll hear him on the other side explaining it was a fake number because I blocked him on everything else, but he regrets everything that he did and he’s so, so, so, sorry, I thought. But it never was. It was always an automated voice message telling me to press 2 if I wanted to continue the call, then, click, silence. 

Something happened that I wasn’t expecting to happen. My heart dropped in disappointment, my throat tightened, my face felt warm, and I could feel the tears pool in my eyes. I was sad; I was sad he never tried to reach out once. It finally hit me a year later that he didn’t care like I thought he did. Selfishly, I always pictured him crying in his room in heartbroken angst in front of an ex-girlfriend shrine realizing that leaving me was the biggest mistake of his life. Now I know that never happened. In fact, I was the one crying in heartbroken angst–not him. 

As I let the sadness settle, like a baby bird taking cover beneath its mother’s wing, I swiped out of the Blocked Messages tab just to find another tab right above it titled “Deleted Messages.” My curiosity got the best of me and I sheepishly opened this second tab too–finding something I didn’t necessarily want to see. I saw all the voicemails he had left me during the relationship; I forgot I never fully erased them. I clicked on the latest one back in October many moons ago, but I couldn’t get myself to listen to it and hear his voice echoing in my cobwebbed mind like nails on a chalkboard. 

I read the transcript. I remembered this day. It was near Halloween. As we stood in front of the bar, he yelled at me in front of his friends. He had never yelled at me like that before. We weren’t even fighting, but he yelled at me. Shocked at his actions, I ran back into the bar as he waited outside, “Please call me back. I don’t want to end the night like this,” he sighed, “I love you.” The transcript ended. 

I

love 

you… 

I read those words, but I didn’t remember feeling loved then. 

What I did remember was how horrible I felt that night after he screamed in my face to back off.  I remember when he told me he hated being around my family. I remember when he hung out with his “girl best friend” late at night and turned off his location for hours.  I remember when he told me how in love he was with another girl and it wasn’t fair she didn’t want him back.  I remember when I told him I didn’t want to have sex, but he still did it anyway.  I remember when my roommate told me he was hitting on her.  I remember when he lived at my apartment and refused to help me with the bills. I remember when he would have outbursts when I wouldn’t use my money to buy him weed.  I remember downplaying my own success because he would get jealous of my achievements.  I remember when he told me I was never supposed to be long-term.  I remember when he knew that one of his friends sexually assaulted me, but we never spoke of it.  I remember when he would talk about the future and he would always leave me out of it. 

I remember, I remember, I remember. Suddenly, it clicked–the biggest thing I needed to remember. This was not someone I loved or missed, but someone who hurt me so deeply that a bandaid was never going to be enough to fix the broken bones he had left behind. 

For a long time, his leaving made me feel as if I had lost a part of myself, but it has occurred to me that I never did. While he may have tried to take the best parts of me away, destroying them like bullets through glass soda bottles, I have since grown, changed, and transformed. My heart may have bruises, but it’s still intact–capable of being loved and loving others once again. It’s not that a part of me is gone. Instead, roses and daisies have finally sprouted between the cracks in the sidewalk. I was the biggest stranger to myself when I was with him, but now I know myself like no other. A wave of peace, serenity, and glee washed over me and waves hit the sand upon my mind: he will never be the forest fire devouring the flowers, trees, and wildlife in my dearest meadow. 

I stared at the screen as my finger found its way from the bright blue “Clear All” header. As I clicked it, my iPhone asked, “Permanently clear deleted voicemails?” 

Clear All. 

Despite erasing the little bit of history I had left, I had never felt so much more complete. 

[shedoessoshedoes]

a sunday kind of love

The weekdays are full of the rushing New Yorkers are known for, Saturdays are sometimes–usually–filled with more work, and what Charlie calls “expensive adult activities,” but on Sundays, Nora and Charlie are lazy.

wc: 2,293

tw: tiny bit of nsfw

read it on ao3

When I wake up and roll over, Charlie is nowhere to be found. I open my eyes, look at the wrinkled sheets on his side of the bed, and smile. It’s Sunday. 

Charlie has been back in New York for four months now, and in that time, we’ve settled into a routine. We decided immediately that he’d move in with me; the rent-controlled apartment, after all, was his before it was mine. The weekdays are full of the rushing New Yorkers are known for; I wake up before dawn to ride my Peloton, and we both work more than we should, me in his old office at Loggia editing books, him working from home doing the same, both of us slurping down exorbitant amounts of caffeine. Occasionally, we distract each other with sexy texts at lunchtime. When I come home, he pulls me into his arms, whispers my name into my hair, and we order takeout together–usually with me perched on his lap, the menu open on his laptop, and call Libby and then Charlie’s parents while we wait for our food. We eat, then work a little bit more on opposite ends of the couch, our feet tangled together, until we get too distracted to be any good at what we’re supposed to be doing. We stumble to bed together, fall asleep, wake up, and do it again. Saturdays are sometimes–usually–filled with more work, and what Charlie calls “expensive adult activities” (refreshing the sheets with my overpriced laundry detergent, placing a Whole Foods order to be delivered for the week, Charlie’s weekly haircut, my weekly blowout, etc. etc.). But on Sundays. On Sundays. We are lazy. We lay in bed. We make out, and read, and make out some more. Charlie goes and gets bagels, and I mobile order coffee for him to pick up on his way. If we’re feeling particularly energized, we go to Freeman’s. We have slow, hot, sex, and I wonder how I ever thought I could be as happy as I am without this man in my life. 

I pick up my phone to see a text from fifteen minutes ago. Just left for bagels. Order the coffee in twenty. I love you. I smother my smile against my pillow and place the order at our favorite over-priced local shop: an iced Americano with oat milk for me, and a nonfat mocha for him. We’ve reached the point in April that I believe calls for iced drinks to return, but Charlie disagrees. Apparently the 40 degree weather doesn’t scream spring to him. 

I haul myself out of bed and set about opening up all of our blinds to let the light pour in. The bookshelves in the living room are arranged alphabetically, and I light the candle on the table in the middle of the room before taking a shower. Just because Sundays are lazy does not mean I should be oily for them. I’ve just stepped in when I hear the door to the apartment open. Not five minutes later, the shower curtain pulls back, and Charlie gets in with me. 

“Hi,” I say, leaning back into him as he pulls my back flush against his chest. 

“Good morning,” he replies, mouthing over my ear and down my neck. 

I turn, reaching over his shoulders to get the soap, and he catches my mouth with his. I smile into him. 

“Have I ever mentioned,” Charlie starts, punctuating each word with a kiss, “how much I love you in the mornings?” 

“No,” I reply, letting him press me up against the shower wall, soap forgotten. “Do it now.” 

“Stephens,” he says, kissing a path down my chest, going to his knees, “you’re fucking perfect in the mornings.” 

When we manage to pry ourselves out of the now-cold shower forty-five minutes later, I go in search of our bagels. Charlie, God bless him, had the forethought to finish his coffee and put mine into the fridge, and I’m in the middle of a long pull when he strides into the kitchen. Some careful maneuvering had left my freshly blown out hair mostly dry, but his is still dripping down his neck. I stare at him. He stares at me. 

I speak first. “Two thoughts. One, I want to eat my bagel before you try to fuck me again even though you look more stupidly hot today than usual. Two, as soon as I’m done with my bagel, I would love to go for round two.” 

“God, our nightmare brains are the same, Nora,” he replies, reaching into the bag and pulling the food out. 

I shrug, and slather the cream cheese onto my bagel. He shrugs right back, a smile tucking up into the corner of his mouth. 

“So,” he says, mouth full of food, “sex, nap, Freeman’s, dinner?” 

I laugh. “Some might call that a perfect day. Can we go and get sushi tonight?” We leave to visit Sunshine Falls later this week, and I’m already going through New-York-food withdrawals. 

“Since I know you so exceptionally well, the reservation is already made.” 

I smile into my bagel. We finish in silence, basking in the day. I never knew that life could feel so relaxing. I’ve learned that Charlie feels the same way. We’ve both given up so much for the people we love, put ourselves under so much stress as we try to succeed, that it’s been hard for us to come to terms with the ending we got. I think both of us are more grateful every day. 

Charlie turns to put the trash away, and then I’m on him, lips against his, fingers twisting into his hair as I take us back down the hallway to our room. He scoops me up and then we’re tumbling onto the bed, his fingers pressing into the silk of my sleep set. I arch up into him, and he groans, rolling so that I’m straddling him. 

“I. Love. Sundays.” I say, pressing my hips into his as I pull off his t-shirt and then my own. 

“I’m partial to them myself,” he agrees, before pressing his hips up to slide his pants down. 

Mine follow a second later, and then I’m going down his body, tracing a path with my hands as I do so, until I reach what I’m looking for. He’s already hard, and we’re so comfortable with each other now that it’s as easy as breathing to slip him inside my mouth and have him shaking in minutes. He pulls me off before he can come, and I shoot him a glare, but then I’m underneath him and there’s a pillow under my hips, and then there’s not much room for much complaining at all, seeing as I’m completely occupied with Charlie, Charlie, Charlie. 

When I come, I squeeze around him, and he follows quickly after that with a choked “Nora,” and then we’re both still. He’s starting to fall asleep on top of me and I shove him off before he can. 

“Wh–come back,” he pleads. 

“You’re too hot,” I tell him. 

He grins much too widely at this, and I elbow him before pulling the covers up around both of us. “If you want to be woken up in twenty minutes by my overheated thrashing, feel free.” 

He groans. “But what if I like your overheated thrashing, Stephens? Have you ever considered that? Maybe the joy of holding you in my arms outweighs the potential annoyance that comes from–” he’s cut off as he yawns, and I huff out a laugh. Who would have thought? Charlie Lastra, stage-five post-sex clinger. 

“Your argument is tiring you out, Charlie,” I tease. “Go to sleep before you lose.” 

He hums in agreement, eyes already closed. “Love you.” 

“Love you, too.” I look at him for a minute. Sometimes, when I watch him sleep, I feel overwhelmed that he exists. 

I wake up in a glowy daze, sunlight pouring in through the windows, Charlie’s heartbeat echoing in my ear. I tilt my head up to look at him, and he cracks an eye open. “Freeman’s?” he asks. I nod, and we trip out of bed in our race to get dressed. 

We make it outside twenty minutes later, and Charlie pulls me against him as we walk. “I like it when you wear my clothes,” he declares a few minutes later as we cross a street. I have on one of his button downs with a pair of my jeans, and I look up at him in surprise. 

“What?” 

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve just noticed you doing it every once in a while and I just like it. It makes you look cute. And I think I like seeing that I’m such a big part of your life that you can just…grab something of mine and it’s not a big deal.” I smile, lean into him. “You know, most guys I’ve dated hated when I wore their clothes. I was always just as tall as them so they usually just looked like my own.” I shrug. “I should have guessed you were secure enough in your masculinity that that Bigfoot-esque quality doesn’t come through in you.” 

He laughs, and we start through Central Park. Our subway stop is just on the other side. As we walk in, Charlie nudges me. “Look.” 

I glance over to where there’s a couple standing underneath a tree. As we watch, the man kneels down, and the woman starts to cry. Before he can even get his ring box open, she’s kneeling down with him, saying ‘yes’ over and over. 

“She’s brave,” Charlie says, as we continue on. “Saying yes without seeing the ring.” 

I nod in agreement. “If I ever get married, I would choose my own.” 

He looks at me in mock horror. “If? You’re planning on leaving me, Nora?” 

“Did I forget to tell you? I just reconnected with my MOM date. Remember Blake? We leave for Vegas tomorrow.” 

“God, I forgot about him.” Charlie shakes his head, starting down the stairs to the subway. 

“How could you? If not for that failed date, where would we be?” 

“Nora,” he says, “as soon as you landed in North Carolina, I think both our fates were sealed. 

We ride the subway like the annoying couple we are, hands holding onto one loop above our heads, bodies pressing into each other, swaying with the movement of the train. When we finally reach our stop, I lace my fingers with Charlie’s and pull him up to the sidewalk. 

I push the door to Freeman’s open, and the smell of new books washes over me immediately. I take a deep breath in. Charlie does the same next to me. Fuck, I love a bookstore. We split up without talking about it, the same way we always do. No one needs the pressure of someone looking over your shoulder as you shop. 

My hands linger on a few different titles: a new adult romance about the son of the president and the prince of England, the fourth book in a romance series about a family set in the early 19th century, a Hollywood murder mystery set on a tropical island. I settle on a contemporary novel that’s been out for a few years; my coworkers have been telling me to read it since it came out. It’s about two college students and the ways their lives weave together, and it’s supposed to absolutely tear me apart. I can’t wait. 

I go to find Charlie, and he holds out his find to me. “Bank robber dressed as a bunny takes an apartment showing hostage.” He shrugs. “Thought it sounded different. Seems like it has a good bit of dry humor.” 

“You do love that,” I say. “If nothing else, it’ll be entertaining.” 

We pay, and make our way back to our apartment. I immediately plop down onto the couch. “What time is the reservation?” 

Charlie sits down on the opposite side, pulling out his book and handing mine to me. “Seven-thirty. So we have an hour and a half before we have to go.” 

I lean over to kiss him. “Perfect.” I twist so my head is in his lap, and pick up my book. Our lives are stressful, and busy, and I love everything about it, but it’s moments like this that I realize just how far I’ve come since Libby dragged me to Sunshine Falls, North Carolina for the summer. 

I’m able to understand now that Libby can take care of herself, that she’s my sister, not my child, and that taking care of myself should always be a priority, too. I’ve learned to let more people into my life; Charlie in particular, of course, but also the new friendships I’m growing at work, both with my coworkers and with my authors. Most importantly, I’ve learned to savor every moment that I have. I can’t live in survival mode for my entire life, doing everything I can to make sure my life follows a picture perfect plan. I do still, of course, have ideas of how I want my life to go, but I’m okay with the idea now that it might go in a slightly different direction than the one I have planned, and I have no one besides Libby and Charlie to thank for that. They’ve both given me so much, and I thank them for it every day. I look up at Charlie, his brow furrowed as he reads, and smile. I can’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, but I do know that as long as I can have Sundays with him, I’ll be okay. I take a deep breath in, open my book, and start reading. 

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

Yay!! thank you so much for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments and constrictive criticism is always welcome. My asks are open: let me know what you want me to write!!

[electrosuite]

hi idk if you accept requests but if you do: could you please do tasm!peter x reader where reader cuts their hair short and they get really nervous about it bc they had long hair for a while and really insecure abt their new hair and peter supports them and how he could react with their s/o with short hair ? pretty plsss (it could be also she/her reader!)

im cutting my hair this week and i’m actually nervous about it so this could be me a lot to do it (for reference i’m cutting my hair like nayeon from twice during more & more era of u want to search it lol) pls and thank u very much have a nice day <3

warnings: mentions of smut

word count: 568

masterlist

a/n: i am always down for requests y’all, sometimes my creativity isn’t what it usually is and i could use all the ideas i can get lmao

It’d been about three years since you’d had a haircut, and you needed one desperately. It was more than halfway down your back and it was a pain in the ass. It was heavy and only made you hot, which meant it was always up. In turn, it always gave you a headache from pulling on your scalp. Not to mention washing it. You probably spent more on shampoo and conditioner than rent every month.

But Peter never hated it. He thought it suited you and he loved to play with it, twirling it around his fingers and running them through it.

But his favorite part was being able to pull it during sex. When he’d have you on all fours and could keep you exactly where he wanted you, wrapping your long locks around his hand and gripping it tightly.

You’d mentioned cutting it previously but never went through with it. When you brought it up you could tell he was apprehensive because he loved it, but he’d always said you shouldn’t let his opinion weigh your decision.

When you found yourself in a salon, a cape over your front and your hair separated into small strands, you were more nervous than expected.

“Ready?” asked the hairdresser, wielding a trusty pair of silver metal scissors. You took a deep breath, looking over your current look one more time.

“Ready.”

And with that, she was chopping strands as evenly as humanly possible. You could hear the hair lightly hitting the floor and couldn’t hold back a nervous chuckle.

‘No going back now,’ you thought.

The entire process took about half an hour, and once it was over, there was a noticeable weight difference. You couldn’t help but run your fingers through it, pushing both sides back with your middle finger and thumb of one hand.

It was short. It barely touched your shoulders, and didn’t even reach your collarbones.

And you looked hot. You didn’t expect to like it as much as you did. But despite all of that, you wondered what Peter’s reaction would be. You hadn’t told him you were cutting it, so it would be a complete surprise to him.

So when he crawled up the fire escape outside your room and looked through the window at you sitting on your bed facing his direction, he wasn’t sure how to react.

You looked up from your phone to see a completely awe-stricken expression on his face, your only reaction was to smile. You walked over and opened the window, leaning against the sill on both hands.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” you joked, a bit nervous at his silence.

He shook his head. “No, I just...” His pause made you raise your eyebrows. “Wow.”

“Good ‘wow’ or bad ‘wow’?”

“Good. So good.” He crawled into your room and examined your new look closer. “You look hot.”

You laughed at his boyish answer. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like it or not.”

“Honestly, I think I like this better.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Well it feels a hell of a lot better.”

He just looked at you, examining the look further. He could see your shoulders and collarbones without your hair blocking them, a.k.a. his favorite places to kiss.

So he decided to take the opportunity, and you had almost no time to react before you were on your back with his mouth all over you.

[ilici]

drunk on you.

Summary: C!Schlatt was known as the drunk who didn't care about anything besides himself. That all changed when Y/N showed up, he's never been so infatuated with something like he was with Y/N.

NSFW MINORS DNI !

Warnings: Size kink, choking, subspace, gagging, unprotected.

Word Count: 2117

Schlatt was in his office, when he heard Tubbo and Fundy's muffled voices growing closer to his office. He was in no mood for business, he was slightly buzzed from drinking more vodka. If he drank anymore, he'd be absolutely hammered, but he held himself back as he had a meeting for Manburg later that day. Hearing the knock he dreaded the most, he grunted wanting to ignore them, but once again a knock was heard this time more eager sounding. "President, we need to talk to you. It's urgent." Funny's voice ripped out into the silence, and Schlatt just glared at the shut door. Not answering, the door was swiftly opened by Tubbo, and Fundy looked at him as if he were crazy.

Tubbo walked in, his horns showing prominently after his haircut, "Hello Schlatt." Tubbo said, nonchalantly as if he's done that more times than once. Funny gave Schlatt an apologetic look, before following Tubbo inside, his orange fur popping as Schlatt's office was dark and dull. He wanted it to match his "heart" as if he even had one. So he forced Niki and Fundy to paint it, "What do you guys want?" Schlatt said, already annoyed at their presence, "We have someone new who joined Manberg, we tried to tell you yesterday but you kept yourself locked in here." Fundy explained, on edge afraid if he said one thing, the bottle of vodka that was on Schlatt's desk would be thrown at him.

Schlatt slowly looked over at the fox, as his eyes were glued on Tubbo, annoyed that he entered without permission for the eleventh time. "So? What's it to me?" He asked, and Fundy sighed, "Sir you're the president, it's mandatory for you to know if someone joins or leaves." He announced, and Schlatt just stared at him, face holding no emotions. Fundy gulped, fairly loudly, which made Tubbo glance over at him, grabbing his wrist so he would relax. "Well, who are they?" Schlatt asked, wanting this conversation to end already, "Apparently they are Sapnap's adopted sister. Dream and them went into the snow biome across here, and found her there. They took her in for a couple days, then she left and wandered into Manberg and asked if she could stay." Tubbo said, noticing how on edge Fundy was. Schlatt looked at him, "They didn't kill her on the spot?" He asked, genuinely confused.

"No, probably because she was already on the brink of death from starvation. She has amor, netherite to be exact, I've also heard from George that she is good at combat." Tubbo added on, catching Schlatt's attention. "Why didn't they just leave her there to rot?" He asked once more, and Tubbo sighed, growing annoyed at the fact that Schlatt keeps asking why they didn't let her die. "Sapnap apparently felt guilty, and wanted to take her in. I'm guessing it took a lot of persuasion, because Sapnap now has a cut down his face from which I am assuming is from Dream." He explained, "Where did you get this Information?" The president asked, and a new voice spoke up from behind Tubbo. "Me." A much softer voice said, which caught Schlatt off guard.

Schlatt wondered how he had not noticed her before, but what threw him off even more was the fact that he could not see the girl. She was behind Tubbo, and Tubbo was already very short, so how old was this girl and how short was she? "Show yourself." He said, intrigued, and a small girl, decked out in netherite stepped out from behind Tubbo. It amazed him how small she was, she had to have been an inch smaller than 5'0. "What's your name?" He asked, and Y/N looked him in the eyes, her eyes held little to no emotions, "Y/N." She said, her voice strong and confident, "How old are you?" He asked, and Y/N just looked down, as if this conversation bored her. "I'm legal, if that's what you were wondering perv." She said, noticing that Schlatt was indeed checking her out.

Schlatt chuckled at her, "Fiesty aren't we?" He said, and Y/N glared at him, her E/C piercing through his skull. "Only with old men like you." She replied, and Schlatt let out a huff of air through his nostrils, almost as if it were meant to be a laugh. "She's welcome to join Manberg." He said, and Tubbo looked down at the girl, "Come on let's go Y/N." He said grabbing her wrist, his other hand still occupied with holding Fundy's. Dragging the two out, quite literally, the other two were stumbling on their feet trying to keep up with the teenager. "Slow down." Fundy pleaded, and Tubbo finally came to a halt when they were out of the building, "Y/N you will need to take your armor off, it's sorta a rule not to wear it in Manberg." He said, and Y/N audibly sighed as she took off her amor. Once her helmet was off her H/C hair finally showed itself, her H/L blowing in the gust of wind.

"You look pretty." Fundy said, now being able to see her without the amor, "Thanks I guess?" Y/N said, not really used to compliments. Her outfit consisted of F/C shirt and jeans. Her combat boots complimented the outfit, "Well we already gave you the tour yesterday, so if you need anything, you know where to find us." Tubbo said, as the two walked to their designated areas. Y/N looked around to try and find something to do, but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming up behind her. "Hello Schlatt." Y/N said, turning her head to the side where he now stood. "How'd you know it was me?" He asked, and Y/N just looked away, "You reek of alcohol, I basically smelt you." She said, and Schlatt scoffed and looked at her side profile. Schlatt being way taller than her, made him think of very inappropriate things he could do with her. "I don't appreciate that." Y/N spoke up, and Schlatt gave her a weird look, "I can hear your thoughts. They are very loud and fairly annoying." She told him, and Schlatt just looked away.

"How can you read minds?" He asked, and Y/N looked away, "I don't want to talk about my past." She mumbled, and Schlatt just nodded looking back at her, "So tell me what I am thinking of right now. Prove me wrong, because I don't believe you." He said, and Y/N looked over at him blankly, "What happens if I don't?" She said, wanting to bother him. Schlatt smirked, "You already know." He whispered, and Y/N rolled her eyes. "You're disgusting." She said walking away from him. Schlatt chuckled watching her walk away, before he walked away to go to the meeting he was having with Quackity and George. The entire meeting, his mind was thinking about Y/N in many ways.

It's now been four months since Y/N joined Manberg, and Schlatt has been on her ass at any moment he could. Y/N couldn't deny the feelings she was growing for the overly horny man. She could hear everyone's thoughts, but Schlatt's always overpowered theirs, which annoyed her because he kept her awake during the night with his lewd thoughts. "Fuck you Schlatt." She groaned tossing and turning in her bed, trying to sleep. Currently, Schlatt was having another daydream of him ruthlessly fucking the shit out of Y/N. She mainly couldn't sleep because of how loud his thoughts were, but she also felt this itching sensation that she tried to get rid of by touching herself but she simply couldn't cum. She never could, which was causing her sexual frustration to sky rocket. Letting a frustrated scream out, she threw her pillow at the wall before she got up.

She was now wearing her night shorts, and one of Fundy's shirts that she borrowed, from three months ago. Slinging her door open, she didn't care about the cold air biting at her bare legs and feet as she stomped her way towards Schlatt's house. "You fucking horny fuck." She grumbled on her way there, and Jack, who was awake watched her angrily make her way to Schlatt's house. He silently laughed to himself, as he knew why she was going there. He's caught her doing this many other times, which they bonded over and now the two were super close. "Don't kill him." Jack slightly shouted, and Y/N just flipped him off as she continued her way towards the rather ugly birch wood house. Ripping the door open, not even caring to knock at this point she basically bolted to his room. "Schlatt you motherfucker." She said, slinging the door open, and Schlatt looked over at her.

"What seems to be the problem princess?" He asked, and Y/N glared at him, as his eyes were glued to her thighs. "I will rip those horns right out of your goddamn head." She threatened, and Schlatt laughed getting up, his white t-shirt and black sweat pants, now visible. Walking over to her, he stood in front of her, dangerously close, "Do it." He whispered, and Y/N shoved his chest roughly, which he just stumbled back a bit before going back to his spot. "It's two in the morning princess, and yet here you are. In my room." He whispered, this time his voice huskier which sent a chill down Y/N's spine. "This is your room, what are you going to do about it?" She dared, and Schlatt chuckled darkly, "You already know." He said, as Y/N got deja vu from their first interaction like this.

Y/N bit her bottom lip, as Schlatt roughly grabbed her thighs hoisting her up and throwing her on his bed. Y/N let a giggle rip through her throat, as Schlatt was now hovering over her, his shirt already discarded. "Eager are we?" She teased, and Schlatt growled, "I could drink so much alcohol and be absolutely wasted, but somehow you make me so much more drunk." He said, and Y/N grinned, "Do it." She whispered, as Schlatt thought of just fucking her then and there. Schlatt groaned, and ripped her clothes, literally. "That was Fundy's shirt.." She groaned out, and Schlatt chuckled, "That's why I did that princess." He said, before flipping her over, "Ass up now." He said, giving it a harsh slap as he quickly took off the remaining clothes he had on.

"Mouth open, now." He said, and Y/N opened her mouth as he quickly shoved his fingers down her throat keeping them there as she gagged onto them. Chuckling, he teased her entrance with his tip, before he roughly thrusted into her, making her gurgle from a moan, choking a bit from his fingers. Using his other hand, he pushed her down into the mattress as he thrusted into her with no remorse. Once he saw tears streaming down her face, he pulled his fingers out of her mouth, letting her cough to catch her breath. "God you're so beautiful." He whispered to her, as he sped up his thrusts, not caring if she was now overly sensitive since she had cum on him seconds before pulling his fingers out. Y/N only let out a couple sounds, which were supposed to be words. She was too far gone to form sentences, "Awh, is my cock that good that you can't speak? Did my cock do this to you princess?" He teased, and Y/N barely heard him, making him realize how far gone she was. Wrapping his hand around her throat, he choked her smirking.

This only made him feel even more egotistical, as he did this to her. After a couple rough sloppy thrusts, he let his cum feel her up to the brim. Pulling out, he fell down beside her, catching his breath while Y/N was attempting to come back. Getting up, he walked over to his bathroom dampening a rag before coming back and cleaning her thighs, and wiping the sweat off of her body. Throwing the rag back into the bathroom, he laid beside her, pulling her body to his gently not to hurt her. Jack smirked, as he realized what happened when he saw a stumbling Y/N walking out of the house, wearing a pair of Schlatt's sweats and one of his shirts that reached her knee's basically. "Well I'll be damned, he killed your guts." Jack said, and Y/N picked up a rock chucking it at him, "Fuck you."

[brasister]

Its finally coming to an end. Season 5 is the worst season. The writing is terrible, the characters make zero sense and nothing feels satisfied. I can only see myself playing this season twice for Finn/Suresh. When am I getting bits. This season is so boring, it doesn’t focus on love or lust. Just damn bullying time after time.

Kat- I don’t feel bad for her, if her character was nice to us I would throw Finn to the curb. But her relationship is based on lust. They can only be compare to Lottie/Gary and I would say Lottie/Gary worked better, if Mc is not in their route they only have eyes for one another. Even if Finn plays Kat with Arlo, Kat is also to blame for her fuck ups. She hates us so much she kisses Suresh when we’re with him, just to make us jealous. She kisses Alfie too, and look at her now supporting Arlo/Meera the girls who bullies us the most. So no fuck Kat, I could care less about her feelings or letting her be with Finn.

Dana- I don’t hate her as much as before. She’s an okay friend but she’s the worst female li of all seasons. She will not be getting a chance after bringing Gabi back and being in a couple with her. 

Meera- HATE HER, waste of space. We could have had new characters, potential li if fusebox didn’t decided to bring this bitch back just to leave again. Meera wish she was Hannah, Hannah can make it to the end with new clothes and a haircut. But Meera gets NOTHING and not even Alfie would consider leaving with her. All that bullying for what? What was the reason, what was the purpose? 

Gabi-  I don’t have much thoughts on her, she feels invisible to me. Could be bc I’m not playing Suresh route just yet. But she seems like a background character, so I don’t hate her nor love her, she’s just there. 

Lulu- I would play her route if they didn’t leave it this late in the game. I love her as a friend, the only girl I would ever talk good about. Fusebox keeps leaving last minute li, I can only do that for Angie/Youcef/Oliver/Will and I don’t have the energy to keep playing this season over and over again just for her. Sorry.

Johnny/Nicolas- I will not forgive fusebox for teasing us again, they wasted gem scenes on them and Eddie/Arlo just to be confirm they are not li. Hate them but love their stupid faces. I hope someone can write a good fanfiction of the three boys. *sighs* Why is everything a joke to them and why couldn’t I slap them for making me look like the bad guy. A black eye couldn’t hurt, its what they deserve. Throwing water did nothing but give them a smug face to leave with.

Alfie- Just LEAVE with Meera. His just going to end with Kat, since they wanted to play kissy games behind me & Finn. His not a good friend to Finn either. Alfie is a damn player and played Meera. I did wanted them to work, but fusebox doesn’t like good relationship, so instead we got Meera focusing on us and Alfie just proving my point of being a fake nice guy, who is trying to one up Suresh. Alfie just fucking sucks, his not a sweet guy, and his actions screams player. I rather have Eddie back then to have Alfie stay another night.

Suresh- I’m still waiting for a real redemption arc, why the hell would he mention Gabi like that. Thats not what I wanted to hear. His falling into the background to me because his not standing up for us, or saying his on our side. Hell he even help Johnny/Nicolas pack. Like what the hell is that about, you say you love us but helping the douche who made us look like the villain pack his bags. As if last week wasn’t bad enough with Gabi/Meera kissing and marrying them. 

Finn- His the only good li and thats a shame. His a player, and I’m starting to hate last minute rush relationships. I love him but fusebox refuse to give us what we had in season 2, plenty to pick from and written well li. I can’t wait for this season to finish to start playing season 2 again. Finn is only trash because of his actions with Kat. But I rather have him then what I’m getting from the others. It has its drama and smoking hot redhead finally. I knew I declared to be a Finn stan from the beginning for a reason, even if I get crumbs. But his been the only nice guy and real friend in my opinion 

Lets hope we can finish the last 6 episodes with a good li or the money back in our hands for all our suffering

[spencersstrawberryjello]

Treat People With Kindness (The BAU)

Summary: Garcia gets Reid into Harry Styles and everyone subsequently loses their minds over it.

Content: Honestly just funny I’m not sure what to call it

MC’s name/pronouns: No alternate main character, just Spencer.

Word Count: 1706

A/N: This whole fic was inspired by the fact that a fan gave Matthew Gray Gubler a Treat People With Kindness pin, which then sparked my friend Emily and I to theorize that Spencer Reid would absolutely be a Harry Styles stan. So yeah, this is literally just the product of one fan interaction lmao

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

“I got a good feelin’.”

“... What’s he doing?” Emily leaned over and whispered to JJ, who just shook her head.

“I’m just takin’ it all in.”

“Ok, what happened to Reid?” Morgan joined them, and they both shrugged, watching Spencer walk through the doors of the office. 

“Floatin’ up and dreamin’.”

“You know, maybe I need to add him to my drug test list too.” Hotch had stepped out of his office, trying to hide his grin as they saw Spencer making his way to his desk, headphones in and practically dancing over to his seat, mouthing every word of the song he was listening to. He plopped down in it with a little spin, opening a file on his desk without ever taking his headphones out. 

“Try ‘Dancing with the Stars,’” Emily laughed, and JJ broke away from their group, heading over to his desk. 

“Hey Spence,” She rested her arms on the divide between his desk and Emily’s, tapping on it to get his attention. 

“Maybe we can find a place to feel good.”

“Spence!” She tapped his arm this time, and he practically jumped out of his skin, turning to face her.

“And we can treat -”

He quickly tore the headphones out of his ears, setting them down on his desk and looking up at her, clearing his throat.

“Sorry. I was listening to something.” He gestured to the headphones still connected to his phone, as if that wasn’t already obvious. 

“Yeah, I noticed,” JJ laughed.

“Do we have a case?” 

“Nothing yet, you’re good.” She tried fruitlessly to hide her grin, and he gave her a strange look.

“Ok…”

“So,” She plopped down in Emily’s chair, rolling it over to sit near him, “What were you listening to?”

“Oh!” His face lit up, and he grabbed his phone, holding it out for her to see. She put the headphones in her ears, hearing the final moments of the song he’d been jamming to.

“And we can treat people with kindness, find a place to feel good.”

“Harry Styles?” JJ laughed incredulously, handing him back his phone. 

“You’ve heard of him?” He asked, taking the phone and sitting it back on his desk and turning back to her.

“I’m pretty sure most people have heard of him, Spence.”

“Ok, well, I hadn’t. But on Saturday I was speaking at the University of Mary Washington with Rossi, and one of the girls gave me this, after the lecture,” He grabbed his bag off the back of the chair, pointing to a round pin clipped on the strap. It was enamel, with light pink on the inside and a red rose in the center, encircled by the phrase “Treat People With Kindness” in black lettering. “And you know, naturally I thought it was a good message so I put it on my bag and I thought that was all it was. But then I ran into Garcia.”

“Oh god.”

“I was walking in yesterday and she saw it and kind of freaked out a little bit, and pulled me into her office and played me the song - the one you just listened to - and it was amazing and so I told her I thought it was amazing, which made her freak out even more and then you called with a case so I left, only to receive a a YouTube playlist a few hours later that she told me I had to watch every video on or she’d stop printing the case files for me.”

“You know she loves you too much to actually do that, right?”

“I mean, the odds were low, but I wasn’t going to risk it. Either way, I sort of listened to every single song on Fine Line and Self-Titled in one night and also a whole bunch of interviews that she sent me and he’s really funny and his music is great and the moral of the story is I kind of love him.”

JJ sent back in her chair, dumbfounded. “Dude… you mean to tell me Garcia made you a Harry Styles fan?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“I - Penelope!” JJ left without another word, making her way into Garcia’s office. Spencer just shrugged, returning to the file he was looking at - and his music - as Garcia spun to face JJ.

“Jennifer, my love, to what do I owe the pleasure? New case?” She asked. JJ just shook her head.

“You broke Reid.”

“I did not break Reid!” She defended with a grin. “I merely helped him reach his true form.”

“He willingly used technology, and he came into the office today practically dancing to Treat People With Kindness. So yes, you did break Reid.”

“JJ, dear,” Garcia got up from her chair, taking JJ’s hands in the doorway, “Do you remember when Reid got that adorable little shaggy haircut?”

“Despite the fact that he changes his hair like every month, yes, I do.”

“And do you remember what Hotch said?”

She thought for a moment, then her eyes widened in shock. “You did all of this… because of the boyband joke?”

“Like I said: true form.” Garcia returned to her chair, spinning around with a laugh. “In my defense, I didn’t know he was going to get a Harry Styles pin. I just took advantage of the opportunity when it presented itself. I already failed at teaching him to worship Lady Gaga, I could not miss another chance to try and pull him out of the dark ages.”

“You are ridiculous, you know that?”

“That’s why you love me!” 

JJ laughed, leaving Garcia’s office and heading up to hers, ruffling Spencer’s hair on her way by.

“You should grow your hair out again.”

“You think so?” He reached up and fussed with his hair, just as Garcia emerged into the main room. 

“Spencer Reid, my beautiful boy genius, did you do what I asked?”

“Garcia, I figured out how to download music to my phone because of you. So yes, I did what you asked.”

“You are officially my new favorite person.”

“Hang on, what is this all about?” Emily asked. Garcia grinned, hardly able to contain her excitement. 

“I’m finally bringing the lovely Dr. Reid here into the 21st Century.”

“Penelope,” Emily raised an eyebrow at her, “What did you do?”

“Garcia thinks she did something revolutionary by getting me into Harry Styles’ music,” Spencer clarified. Emily immediately clapped her hand over her mouth, about to respond before Derek piped up from his desk.

“Oh, she converted you too?”

“‘Too’ - you mean to tell me that you, Derek Morgan, are a Harry Styles fan?” Emily was looking between the three of them now, practically in shock. Derek just laughed, holding up his hands.

“What can I say, the guy’s got an incredible voice.”

“And the make up of his songs is so interesting as well; I mean, when you look at the music he’s produced in the last few years in comparison to what he performed while he was a part of One Direction -”

“Oh my god please tell me you’ve also listened to One Direction,” Emily said, laughing when Spencer nodded. 

“I don’t understand why you guys are making such a big deal out of this. He’s a singer, it’s not like he doesn’t have fans,” He defended. 

“Reid, two months ago you didn’t even know who Lady Gaga was. This is kind of a big deal.”

“Conference room in five,” JJ walked through the group, heading upstairs as everyone else got up to follow her. 

“Do not think I am dropping this,” Emily pointed at Derek and Spencer before jogging to catch up with JJ. Derek laughed, falling in step with Reid. 

“So, what all did Garcia make you watch?”

“Oh, just a bunch of interviews. I did some of my own reading though -”

“Of course you did.”

“- and what I found really interesting was One Direction’s actual rise to fame. Because the thing is, they didn’t even win X-Factor. They came in third, and yet they became the most famous group to come from that season of the show. In Forever Young - their book - they talked about their time on X-Factor, but it was so strange to me because their first album - Up All Night, that came out not even a full year after they finished the X-Factor live tour - sold 4.5 million copies within the first year. And they just kept growing… Morgan why are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry,” They’d walked into the conference room by now, sitting down next to each other at the table while Derek tried to stop himself from laughing, looking at Reid in disbelief, “You read their book?”

“And their Wikipedia page - I told you I did my own reading!”

“You said you did some of your own reading, you didn’t say you’d memorized everything about their career!”

“Eidetic memory, remember?” He tapped his forehead, and Derek rolled his eyes.

“You never let me forget. I’m assuming you know everything about their solo careers as well?”

“Well I got into Harry’s stuff first, but I ended up reading all of theirs since I didn’t have anything else to do last night. It’s just so interesting to think about what One Direction’s situation reveals about human nature and celebrity culture. I mean, a lot of their fans are dictionary definition erotomaniacs, and yet -”

“I shouldn’t even be surprised that you read this all in one night.”

“Like I said: didn’t have anything else to do.”

“As much as I’m glad you boys are bonding, we have more important things to worry about than Reid’s newfound love for a British boy band,” JJ interrupted.

“Niall Horan’s actually Irish -”

“Spence. The case.” She pulled up the photos on the screen, and Spencer nodded, opening the case file in front of him as JJ began to review everything they needed to know. She finally closed out, and Hotch grabbed his tablet and rose from the table. 

“Alright, wheels up in thirty.”

Everyone nodded, gathering up their things and vacating the room. Spencer and Derek trailed out after everyone, Spencer picking up the conversation as soon as JJ finished. 

“You know, I’m considering learning how to knit - there’s this cardigan that Harry wore...”

[vdlest]

His Muse

Characters:

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary:

Tony and Pepper are finally tying the knot. And your date for their wedding is none other than James Buchanan Barnes, your best friend.

Warning:

None

You couldn't feel more happy for Tony and Pep, they've been planning this whole event for more than a year and it's finally happening today. They're finally tying the knot!

All of the Avengers are attending their wedding. Everyone confirmed their attendance. They didn't want to miss the big day for Tony and Pep. They've been together for a long time now, so when everyone found out about their upcoming wedding, everyone got so excited about it, everyone got busy on checking their schedule, and the perfect outfit to wear.

Your schedule isn't a problem to you, neither your outfit. You have no idea who would be your date 'cause everyone have, but you.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror one last time before you finally head downstairs. You, Wanda, and Nat brought your outfits altogether, so you are confident that you are wearing a perfect attire. Yet, you're still not quite happy for not having someone to accompany you for the event. Clearly, Steve Rogers is coming with his neighbor slash stalker (God he hated that word) Sharon Carter, though they're nothing but friends. Nat and Bruce, Vision and Wanda, Clint and Laura, are no doubt will come together as each other's dates. Sam asked his sister Sarah to come with him. That leaves you to have no choice.

You admit, you're just really waiting for one person to ask you. Bucky. Your best friend.

But you thought he'll not gonna ask you because some girl from the research team have been eyeing him. So maybe, you'll really go alone. Anyway, Wanda and Nat made sure you wouldn't feel alone.

You went downstairs and to your surprise you saw Wanda, Nat, Vision, and Bruce talking to a guy whose back is facing your direction, so you can't see his face.

"Oh, there she is," Wanda said when she saw you, making everyone face your direction.

You finally saw who the guy is. It is Bucky.

The moment your eyes met, his lips form a smile, making your heart skip a beat.

You did not recognized him because of his new haircut and his facial hair is gone. You admit that he fits with clean cut and this kind of look, although any look will definitely fit him. 

You went all the way downstairs and approached your friends as you give Bucky, who is staring at you as you walk towards them, a questioning look, "What are you doing here?" you asked him.

Before Bucky could answer your question, the rest of your friends excused themselves and announced that they'll just wait for the two of you outside. Now it's just you and Bucky, alone.

"You look beautiful as always," he suddenly said as your eyes meet again.

It's not everyday that you hear him compliment you. You two are best of friends and he often annoys you because of his sarcasm and cocky attitude, but you're not sure if his intention is to annoy you by telling you that you look beautiful. You don't want to make yourself a clown so you did not let your guard down.

"What are you doing here, Bucky? You're supposed to be with Steve and Tony," you crossed your arms in front of your chest while questioning him, "They need you there."

"I fixed everything that I need to fix. I cleared out my tasks and that gives me time to finally be here," he replied, making you more confuse.

Your brows furrowed, "Why? You're not supposed to be here at the first place. The last time I checked, we all talked about meeting at the venue, right?" you asked him.

"That's the original plan," Bucky answered.

"Then why are you here?"

"To fetch my date."

His date?

"Bucky, I have no time for your jokes, okay? So quit it. Stop your jokes and stop fooling around, we are needed in the venue in a few minutes and we all need to leave now," as you are about to turn your back to him, he walked around in front of you. You stared at him and you saw on your peripheral that he's holding something on his hand, when you checked, it was a corsage.

A corsage like what Vision and Bruce gave to Wanda and Nat.

You looked into his eyes again and you see seriousness. He's really serious about the thing he said about fetching his date. It's you.

"But I thought?"

He grinned as he grabbed your hand, "You thought I'd ask the woman from the research team?" he chuckled and put the corsage he was holding in your wrist, "There's no other woman I'd like to date in events like this but my muse, and that’s you," as soon as he finishes putting the corsage on your wrist, his eyes traveled back to your eyes, "You're the only person I want to take in my arms every single day. You're the only woman I want to date for the rest of my life."

It took you so long before you process everything but you soon realized that he's not just claiming you to be his date, he's also declaring what he truly feels for you.

"I'm sorry for not asking you earlier, nor telling you about this feeling of mine, but it's better late than never. Right?" he asked you.

"But what made you decide to tell me all of these now?" you asked him.

He squeezed your hand, "Because Tony and Pepper's wedding made me realized that I am not getting any younger. God, I am a hundred and six years old already. I don't want to miss anything in life anymore. I don't want to regret something for not doing anything. So here I am, telling you that it has always been you inside my heart and I didn't had the guts to tell you right away because I didn't think you'd deserve someone like me, someone with a dark past. But I can't stand seeing you with someone else, so I worked out myself and be the man you deserve to have," he walked closer to you and leave a kiss on the back of your hand, "I hope you could give me a chance."

Before you could open your mouth to say anything about his declaration, the front door opened and you and Bucky saw Vision's head.

"We hate to interrupt your beautiful moment but we are running late, I believe," Vision said, finally learning how to use the door properly.

Bucky answered, "Yeah, coming!" he yelled.

The door closed again and your eyes met Bucky's gazes again. You saw in his eyes how he wanted to hear your answer.

You smiled at him as you put your hand on his cheek, "Let's talk about this after the wedding, okay? Shall you and your date go now?" you linked your arms to his.

He nodded, "Let's go, my muse."

-v.dl