#he just wants the world to revolve around him

[littledes1re]

How to disappear | Chapter: one

Summary: after the passing of your mom, you and your dads best friend get close. You find comfort in him and he does the same because he also once lost something. While a relationship between you two sounds wrong and taboo, your feelings grow stronger. But Joel is an old man, guilt and the fear of losing you too, overwhelms him. So he leaves you.

Warnings: Angst, grief, heartbreak, lots of emotions, (fluff as a flashback), joels alcohol problems, dad that doesn’t care for his daughter, age gap! (23 and 61), crying, kind of depression, smut (as a flashback)

A/N: Okey Okey, I may said next week but I was already done with it so finally it’s here. Some dbf and Oldman!joel angst hehehe. Ngl I kinda hurt myself with this one.

Dear joel,

i‘m still thinking about the first time you kissed me, gentle, careful, caring.

I wish you‘d see how much I love you, how much I love being in your presence, how much I love our midnight talks.

We are both broken, something connected us. You made it a reason to leave me, I made it a reason to call you my soulmate.

I feel heartbreak. I cry myself to sleep, tell me..is that better than us comforting each other and having fun?

I miss our conversations, I miss your smile and your ability to comfort me.

Dad is asking why you are distancing yourself.

I love you, always.

Winter felt like forever.

A never ending cycle of dark and cold days, where the world stays still when snow falls. Lingering loneliness creeping up, as you fall for the hopelessness of it all and allowed the weather to dictate your mood while in the back of your mind the soft touches and whispers swam around of someone you where aching to be revolved around with once again.

Joel Miller.

Your last conversation stuck in your mind like the withering words only an enemy can say to you. Repeating itself over and over till there is only a echo of two words. We can‘t.

But there was no flicker of rejection in his eyes as he touched you, no regret as he cuddled you after his release, no shimmer of a different personality you weren‘t aware of, you knew him long enough. At least you thought so.

The aching in your heart and tummy was one that didn‘t go away no matter how much time had passed. The sadness clinged on you, wrapping tightly around your ribs, making it hard to breathe. It was one that grew each day for the past season, now coming to the point that you feel yourself getting sick from it. Flashes of memories startle you while you want to go on with your day. The glimpse of his brown eyes, landing on your face, soft and gentle the way you always knew him. Faints laughs of you two whenever it’s quiet.

And somehow underneath all of this it remembered you of your mom. The day she passed, the darkness that fell on you, the ability to not think straight as your eyes were hurting from crying. The shock not letting up, moving like a ghost trough life, pretending to function. Time would heal, but it didn’t. Time just showed you how to carry the pain without showing it.

You wanted to be small again, cradled by your mother’s hands, soothed by her voice.

“It feels like time has stopped for you and the people around you don’t care. You somehow have to function, but the person was your sole reason to function.” His eyes were emotionless.

Joel stopped crying after five months. He became a vessel of a man who once showed his kindness through actions and words and now someone who shuts everyone off. Grief is not predictable. It changes, buries itself deep beneath the skin and eats you alive. Joel never asked for comfort. But he gave it to you. He thought he didn’t deserve warmth, he thought he didn’t want to feel joy. But he let you feel all of those things.

The rough patch of his beard tickled your skin as you laid on top of him, nuzzling your face into his neck. The tears were dry on your cheeks, your eyes swollen and red as a headache started to form. His big hands rubbing circles on your back, soothing you to sleep.

“She is watching over you.”

The line that was crossed was blurred. The day you caught feelings was unknown. You just knew that there had been this silent connection between you two right after he decided to knock on your door to check on you.

“How y’doing, kiddo?”

Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t except it from him. Maybe it was the fact that your dad was distant after your mom’s passing. Maybe it was the fact that both of you lost something.

A man you should suddenly avoid because of his alcohol problems; your dad’s sayings. After his daughter’s passing he developed an alcohol problem, something that was clear whenever he was in your house, his eyes hazy, movements too unsteady. Your heart ached for him, never understanding how people do that to themselves. But after your mom, you did. His actions spoke louder than his words. He still helped your father around the house, with his job, with other things. He was there ,only his emotions were completely submerged, a veil placed over them so no one could recognize his true feelings.

That night, changed it all. He calmed your nerves, gave you the comfort you’ve been aching for the past eight months, and after that he finally let you in his heart. Told you what he was feeling. Guilt, anxiety and anger. His lips were quivering, eyes dark and swollen. Jaw clenched, as if he was trying to bite back the sob clawing up his throat. His breath shaky.

“I should’ve been there.” The only thing that he would murmur and then silence. A rather comfortable and understanding one. You don’t say anything, you just watch. Seeing the same emotions going through him as the day you lost your mom. His eyes would finally lift, and they would shine but not with kindness but with anger and sorrow. You could see it.

“An-and I feel selfish. For now coming in here and telling you this while you also lost someone.”

“Hey, hey. No.” Your hand gently lands on his shoulder, slowly moving to his hair caressing through his curls, while looking at him. His eyes softened, suddenly filling full of worry, bottom lip pouting. Looking at you like a kicked puppy. You felt tears leaving your eyes, landing on your thighs, you wanted to hug him. You knew how he was feeling. You also wanted to give him comfort.

“Don’t even think like that. You’re not selfish for speaking it out. You’re human, joel.”

He tilts his head slightly, you doing the same. A flicker of something knowing passing through your gaze.

“And if you really think thats selfish, then i’m selfish too. For wanting to hear it. You should’t carry it alone.”

For the first time, joel let’s go of the breath he has been holding for a long time. It doesn’t fix anything— but in this quiet moment, something shifts.

A piece of his sorrow, no longer carried alone.

He came over more often. Opened your door, sneaked in your bed and cuddled you, whenever your father was at home, you went to his place. He didn’t care anyway. You two had small road trips, where he drove you to his favourite places, music in the background, your head out of the window, enjoying it. It felt safe, it felt right.

Every worry in your head disappearing when he put your head on his chest. Soft humming and fingertips caressing the skin. Your conversations were not only about loss. They were flowing easily, they were funny.

“This thing is gonna give me a heart attack one day, I swear.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, trying to find the right buttons to put it on silent.

“Ain’t working like that, wait—you have a nokia? Where the hell is your phone?” You asked widened eyes, after you snatched his supposed phone out of his hands.

He snatched it back, eyebrows furrowing.

“What about it? Tommy bought me one because they are easy to use.”

“No, no. S’nice.” You tried to suppress a giggle. And as you swallowed you looked around his house, he looked at you with a grumpy expression.

“What? I can’t keep up with your new generation shit.”

“Oh I bet, I bet. I just find it funny.” You finally giggled, laying back down on his couch, holding your tummy.

“Y’know what’s real funny? You don’t even know half of these movies that I showed you.”

You gasped, sitting up again. His face all smug, a smirk on his lips.

“What? They are cult classics c’mon now—“

“Yeah, for old people.” You rolled your eyes playfully, seeing his face all serious now.

Giggling, you stood up as he abruptly did so too, stretched out his arms to reach for you.

And you knew what that meant. You laughed just more, running around his coffee table and he followed you, trying to grab you. And suddenly he did, throwing you gently on the couch and began tickling you.

“J-joel” you couldn’t breathe from the laughter.

You thought your dad would comfort you and be there for you after what happened, you didn’t think it was going to be joel. But your dad locked himself up, ignoring his dad duties. Leaving you alone, not showing his emotions, not letting you show yours. His demeanour was cold, distant it felt like living with a stranger. You understood why. You understood that he also lost someone, but he never once asked how you are, never once opened the topic of Mom again. Deleted it from his life like it never existed. And while doing that he also deleted you slowly.

Your friends stopped texting, one didn’t know how to comfort you. The other one was acting like it wasn’t a big deal. So you also deleted that topic from them, from your father. Joel was the only one who heard you talking about your mom.

And then he left you. So now, you were completely alone.

But maybe you didn’t really love him. Maybe you just loved his comforting. Maybe you just needed someone and he was there. Would you love a man forty years older than you if your father acted like a father? The way he looked at you, worshipped you, made you feel good. Made you feel special. Took care of you. Something connected you two. Wasn’t those signs of love?

“Hurting?”

“No, think i’m good.” You whispered to him. The stretch was unusual, nothing that you haven’t had before but it felt different. It was with joel.

“S’good, real good.” He nodded his head to you. Under the covers, vulnerable, you two were naked. There were goosebumps all over your skin, and his too. Joel lets you adjust on his shaft, worried eyes scanning your face to see if you show any sign of discomfort.

The atmosphere in the room was calm, lights dimmed and if felt comfortable. The first time you really made out with him and laid your hands on his bulge he stopped you. “Wanna do it right.” He took his time, kissing every inch of your body, teasing you, loving on you. Calling you his pretty girl. Making your eyes almost tear up of how much love he was giving you.

He was extra careful as he started to thrust into you, little breaths leaving his mouth, your hands gripping his biceps. A little moan leaving your lips, feeling the pleasure in your belly slowly fill.

His gaze never left you, he noticed it all. The smile you give him, cheeks flushed, trying to breath right and suppress a loud moan. The way he handled you with gentle hands cupping your cheek, kissing your forehead.

“Joel—please.” A coo leaving his mouth, speeding his thrusts into you.

Joel would bite back a groan, his thrusts sometimes sloppy, sometimes losing the rhythm because it’s been so long. But you didn’t care. You loved feeling him all, you loved being with him.

And when he came his face would twist, you would gently touch his face. He would bury himself into you on last time and then hide into your neck, leaving wet kisses while catching his breath. While you didn’t come, you were still content and satisfied to have him on top of you. But of course he realised it and ate you out for one hour, taking his time, giving you the best orgasms of your life.

You never got an answer from the letter. You never got an answer on your countless texts and calls. He cut you out. And you were trying your best to be angry, you really were. But deep down, the sense of understanding was spreading. You knew how much trouble you two would be going through if your father or anyone in your family found out. Anyone in his family too.

The age gap would let everyone turn their heads in the streets.

Your friends, colleagues everyone would think he is a weirdo. That you are a weirdo.

But then you ask yourself why?

Why did he let you develop these feeling for him? Why did he give you a reason to think that he was in love with you? Why did he comfort you? why did he give you this feeling that everything is going to be fine? Why did he make you believe that there was a connection between you two?

A knock pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Can you help me set the table? Joel is also coming—oh and his girlfriend too, apparently.”

AAA this took so long, but i’m actually proud of this. Please if you see mistakes or want to give feedback, feel free to do so.

Thank you so so much for 900 followers, it’s truly unbelievable.🥹🥹

My Masterlist!!!

Taglist:

@vickie5446 @a-goose-on-mars @thatgirlmendo @ihearttdilfs @pickyeater13 @sweetiegirl16 @keseqna @shivispunk @kyloispunk @meetmeatyourworst @joelmillerswife9 @iveseenstrangerthings50 @idrkman @vanishintoyoubby @dlwrish @cuntyhunty22 @glitterspark @tikikiki @millerdilfs @lovelystrawberrysblog @millersdoll @mani-pedro @simp4pedro @angelic1angel @hazzzy418 @valitagun @throttlepascal @speaktothehandpeasants @mystickittytaco @whatwouldsookiedo @sage-babydoll @umadirectioner @neobangverse @stvrl1ghtt123 @midnightmischief10 @ccmoonshine @dendulinka6

[starlightshadowsworld]

Concept:

With the inherent dehumanisation of ability users in Bungou Stray Dogs and how their abilities are viewed in pretty negative lights.

I am really curious about Kunikida and his backstory because his ability at its core is creation.

It can’t create life but as long as it fits a certain size any object Kunikida lays his eyes on can be perfectly replicated by him writing its name down.

There’s a lot of things that kind of power can be used for and one many would love to get their hands on.

Pianoman’s whole job in the Port Mafia was to create fake notes that looked imperceptible to actual money.

If Kunikida looked at one of those supernotes he could create them in droves with just a pen.

It’s a dangerous power.

And he knows it.

To me it feels a lot like how others treat Mushitaro and his ability. Not a person but just another tool that others can use to their advantage.

To do whatever they want with the power they possess.

Kunikida is essentially a walking armoury and the only thing that keeps him in check are his own ideals.

But who’s to say he’s always been that way.

His ideals and his ability revolve around the Agency and Fukuzawa is the only person who he follows unquestionably.

But there was a Kunikida before the Agency.

If we can have a Chuuya who despised the Port Mafia only to essentially become its leaders successor.

If we can have Akutagawa who was once a protector become someone who kills anyone he deems weaker than himself.

Who’s to say there wasn’t a Kunikida who either followed a different code or was forced to do so. Anyone could’ve found him before Fukuzawa did.

In the same way Yosano only ever wanted to help people and was forced to hurt them. We could’ve had a Kunikida fighting for a better world only to be used to destroy it.

All because he was born with an ability and someone wanted that power for themselves.

A story we’ve seen many times over this series.

[grapejuicestyless]

Let Time Pass

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: The one where you grow up. And Harry makes you realize how important time can be. Inspired by an old post I saw on instagram that originated from Tumblr! If anyone knows my reference please tag below!

Time is a valuable construct. But just as necessary as it is, it becomes a dangerous game to play.

For a while, you sit still and watch the world around you move. Yet as a child the days still feel so long and nights are always young. The 7p.m. bed times don’t phase you yet. You scream and cry and beg for another hour on the couch with your older siblings, packed together by your shoulders with your favorite cousins, but you don’t consider how much living you miss.

Because when you are a child, the world still revolves around you. Graduation is a distant memory, you can count on both hands how many years are laid in front of you. The chalkboard is still fairly clean, it reads, “first grade!” and your biggest fear is if you’ll be naughty or nice this year.

You don’t care about boys, or girls, or how to kiss or what to wear. You have freckles in the summer, you love them, and you don’t worry about if your hair looks messy because when you run and play, it’ll fall out anyways. You sit in the backseat, buckled into your booster, and sweat as your father takes a swig of his soda because you are innocent and have not yet learned the difference between drinking and driving and having a drink while driving.

Until, suddenly you’re seventeen. Suddenly you sit behind the wheel of the car you once sweat in the backseat of. There is no man running on the power lines like you once imagined, though sometimes you still stick your fingers against the glass and pretend to run because the company is nice. Some distant melody from a song your grandfather introduced to you when you were a toddler plays on the radio. You hum along and run the stop sign. You can count on one hand how many months you have left until graduation, and the chalkboard now reads, “Senior year!”

You’re getting older, and suddenly time is not nothing anymore, but rather something. You can officially look back at all the memories you haven’t lost, but no matter how hard you wish, the childlike innocence can never return, and your childhood best friends will never come back. You’re getting older, and suddenly the things you once hated, you enjoy now.

You like to feel love. You met a boy in your science lab. He plays with your hair as you lay your head in his lap and promises to love you forever. He asks you to prom, and he matches your dress. He offers you the moon and the stars, promises to shout from every rooftop that he loves you.

He places kisses along your neck, bruises hidden by your collar. You run your pointer finger down the slope of his nose, and you smile at the breathiness in his laugh.

It’s flashy, and it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. Teenage love, young, reckless, vulnerable. You promise to love him forever, and that no matter the distance, you’ll forever be tethered by your love.

But the sky is not infinite. You can only see so many stars at night, and theres only one moon. He ties it to your waist, but he forgets to take care of you, and it pulls you away. It’s puppy love, but it’s all you ever wanted. It’s so perfect and raw and fresh, until it isn’t and the distance grows to be too much.

You can count on one hand how many years of college you have left. How many years you’ll have your summers and can play pretend for just a little longer. You move out of your childhood bedroom. You let your cousins keep your old CD’s. You don’t need them.

Then, he walks into your life.

He’s perfect, in the way his brunette hair swoops around his eyes and the lightness in his laughter. It feels different with him.

You marry him. You wear a white dress, he wears a suit. You feed each other cake and dance to your favorite song. His vows are perfect, and you no longer recall the boy from your hometown who broke your heart.

That’s the funny thing about time. While occasionally, a color or a song may remind you of a distant memory, while you live on your own and explore all the world has to offer, slowly those who left you will leave your mind. You let time pass.

Suddenly you’re nearly fifty. Your oldest is in college now. You can count on two hands how many years of college she has left. She wants to be a doctor. Your youngest just finished the fifth grade. You feel so old.

It’s summer time. You work during the summer now, but get vacations every so often. You use those days to follow your husband on tour when he goes, but as you’ve settled down those years are far and fewer between. He still sings to you, like he used to sing to your kids. You melt at every word.

The cicadas buzz around, chirping into the dimming light. It’s getting late, and your children are eager to leave.

Your oldest kisses you goodbye and leaves to hangout with her girlfriend, while your youngest and middle rush into the yard to play with their new toys. You take a deep breath, and your eyes meet his.

He looks at you with eyes full of love, a tenderness only someone who cares deeply can hold in their gaze. His plate is empty, but he sits patiently waiting until you finish yours, and makes no move to get up until you do.

As you’ve grown, time has become more valuable to you. It’s limited and you realize it more and more. What you once longed for, waited for, becomes a distant memory. Childhood is gone, and adulthood feels overdone.

Your husband doesn’t show you off like a diamond ring, he doesn’t yell from the treetops or promise you anything extravagant. He gives you his most precious belonging. Time. He gives you time, and he sits with you happily, just letting time pass.

Nowadays, your back hurts too much to move. You’ve lived on the same block for nearly forty years. You’ve never changed, yet your neighbors swap like revolving doors. They know you and your husband as the lovely old couple.

You’re shorter now, more fragile. But your husband holds your hand and keeps you safe. Your kids bring your grandkids around.

They’re dressed up in nice clothes and ironed polos. You hand each of them fresh and clean chalkboards, and you write down the year in time to hold it forever.

They love you, they visit regularly. But as time becomes more important to them, suddenly it’s just like how it started. You and him.

You have photos of your grandkids beside the ones of your children on the mantle. You bake cookies for the neighborhood children and hand out candy on halloween. Your husband still sings, he sings to the children and he still sings for you.

Time becomes fragile. It becomes limited. Still, he sits with you, and he lets time pass as you eat. Slower than before, but still steady.

You love him, you’ve never known anything more.

You move out of the old house one day, you can’t live alone. You give it to your middle child and move in with the youngest. She still rushes to finish her food after all these years.

You sit alone now. Your hands are shaky, your time is almost up. You think back to the first time you looked at the sky and noticed the clouds moving. How your heart raced when you saw how quickly they brushed by.

You keep all the old photos up in your small guest room. You don’t have the energy to decorate it anymore. Your grandkids photos are on the dresser beside your kids photos, but you keep a small picture of him on your bedside table, and you kiss it goodnight.

He gave you his time, up until he ran out. You gave him yours, and when he wasn’t there to take it, you gave it to your family.

Time keeps moving, and thats the scary part. It never stops, it never goes back. You can only keep moving forward.

You don’t remember your high school lover anymore. Your memory is poor. You can’t recall the words to your grandfather’s favorite song, and when it gets lonely you miss your father. You get cold some nights and ache for your husband. But life keeps moving.

When you leave, thats all anyone can do. And when the loving warmth of a grandmother is lost, all your family can do is offer each other their time.

[geeky-politics-46]

Fluffy Sinister Stephen Strange Headcanons

Random thoughts I have about fluffy Sinister Strange. I separated them into SFW and NSFW. These may be elaborated on and expanded on later. If there is a specific headcanon you really want a story about, let me know in the comments or an ask.

SFW:

He wouldn't tell anyone, but he's more of a cat person than a dog person. They are quieter, and he thinks they are smarter. 

He has a specific place for everything, but it is an organized chaos. Stuff is seemingly everywhere, but he can tell you exactly where everything is down to the most obscure item.

He is a terrible cook. Every now and then, he gets the idea that he will surprise you with dinner. It usually ends with lots of crashing sounds and swearing.

When you are cuddling, he likes to be the little spoon more than the big spoon. You often go to sleep with him as the big spoon, only to wake up and have him in front of you as the little spoon. You always hold him a little tighter when you find him as the little spoon.

He hadn't really cared much about grooming before he developed feelings for you. In fact, he had stopped looking in the mirror almost completely. His first real hint that he had it bad for you is that he starts caring how he looks again. 

He's incredibly touchy feely once you are together. He loves to have you in his arms and will often go out of his way to be in the same room as you just so he can touch you in some way.

He genuinely thinks you are the most amazing creature in the multiverse. Sometimes, he catches himself studying you, trying to figure out if you really are a human or if you are some kind of siren or goddess turned flesh. He does not know what he did to earn your presence or if he just got insanely lucky, but he swears he will never take you or your love for granted. Not even for a single second.

The first time you have an argument, he practically has a full mental breakdown. He's sure you hate him now and that his reason for living is gone without your love. He doesn't mean to be such a drama queen, okay maybe he does a little, but everything in his world has been life or death for so long he doesn't remember any other way to be. Once you get him calmed down, he becomes very aware that he overreacted very quickly.

He hates apologizing and you may never actually hear the words “I'm sorry” without explicitly telling him he needs to say them, but he will go out of his way to show you he's sorry. Flowers, other gifts, holding doors for you, doing chores, etc. He will eat crow in his own ways, but he really would prefer not to actually say the words.

At first, after you arrive, he will occasionally get so caught up in his own work and in his own mind that he forgets you are there. So you have made Mr. Big Scary Sorcerer nearly jump out of skin on several occasions just by giving him a cheery “Howdy.” After all, no one else has been there for the longest time.

He didn't realize how much he had started talking to himself until you arrived. He suddenly became self-conscious of it, changing his full volume speaking to mostly murmuring under his breath. He is aware that actually makes him look crazier.

NSFW:

Thanks to being trapped in his universe alone he is incredibly sensitive the first time you have sex and he has to try really hard not to cum almost immediately. He still didn't last very long, and it definitely embarrassed him, but he was ready to go again almost immediately.

He also hadn't really felt much need to masturbate until he found you and you showed up there. After a while all thought of sex had just stopped. Suddenly, he felt like a teenage boy again. Everything you did got him aroused. You were the only thing his fantasies revolved around. He had a lot of wet dreams about you after you arrived and before you got together.

He was also a bit of a peeper once he discovered how attracted he was to you. Trying to catch glimpses of you getting dressed or undressed. Shamelessly staring at your ass if you bent over. He even debated “accidentally” walking in on you in the shower or the bath a few times. If he thought he might have heard you touching yourself, he absolutely urgently needed something from your room at that very second.

Definitely has a copy of the Kama Sutra in the Sanctum library and definitely wants to try every single position in it. In fact he has it marked with colored post it notes based on which ones he wants to try with you first.

He has magically hidden all of your clothes on more than one occasion to try to convince you to either spend all day in bed with him or just walk around naked. He's okay with either one frankly. He always gets a cheeky smile when he's busted but never pretends he isn't pleased with himself, because he is very pleased with himself.

He worries a lot about how he compares to your former lovers. So when you start having sex he tries his absolute hardest to make sure you cum hard every single time. The first time he can't make you cum he nearly has a meltdown. 

Definitely has his kinky side, but more than anything he actually really craves vanilla love making missionary or cowgirl position sex with you. It's an intimacy and a comfort level he has not felt in a very long time, and it nearly brings him to tears.

Is a big fan of mutual masturbation. He just loves watching you. The way your breathing changes, the way your back arches. It's like art to him and almost as erotic as touching you himself. He also likes to study how you touch yourself so he can expertly do the same later.

Thanks to his universe being completely barren and destroyed he will take you whenever and wherever he wants, but he has a soft spot for taking you against the large window bearing the seal of Vishanti. He likes the idea that someone could see you, but they won't because there is no one else there. He's not sure he could actually handle someone else seeing you that way. 

Like the other Stephen's, he has a lingerie kink and loves gifting you all sorts of pieces to wear. Some more demure and innocent, flowing nighties in soft silks and satins. Some barely cover anything at all and are intricately made of delicate lace in rich deep colors. He will pay attention to which pieces you like and wear the most, but some pieces are pulled right from his naughtiest fantasies.

His favorite position is you on top riding him, but he does like to plant his feet and thrust up into when he gets close. He gets the best view in this position, seeing every inch of you, but still gets to help set speed and pace. If he's feeling really soft he'll pull you down to lay flat on his chest as you grind on him and he thrusts in and out of you. He also loves that when you're on top and he hits that spot just right he can literally watch your eyes roll back in your head.

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[orangepeelknives]

ms. orangepeelknives you’ve got me completely crazy abt that mack-will-leno post

bcoz i love the thought of leno being very supportive and teasing of will’s huge crush on mack like yada yada i’ve been hearing abt macklin celebrini from the hockey community, from the media forever. But no ones ever talks about that kid’s smile or his floppy hair quite like will 🙄 still, he’ll tolerate will’s lovesick musings but he won’t tolerate celebrini thats for sure

and mack has no reason to hate dislike leno, he just doesnt like that theres history between him and will. There’s a version of will only gabe and leno know, theres inside jokes he’ll never get, theres a version of will that isn’t his. But he’ll tolerate leonard if he has to, strong emphasis on tolerate

now i need to know what will feels in between of all of this !!!!!

suddenly his friendship with leno and gabe isn’t living in each others pockets but fleeting texts on off days between games and random insta stories of congrats… but also now he has mack !!

mack who’s been on his radar forever and now he has him, he learns this guy is just as crazy as him, just as intense about hockey.

will is such a sentimental guy who holds all he loves close to his heart but hes still just a kid, just a guy, and his whole world now revolves around hockey and being good enough to help carry this franchise and mack, and he’s sorry he couldnt keep up with the BC boys, its just been hectic

So what’s will now 😃 part of him misses the simplicity of BC and he maybe that includes the people related to those memories, but another part of him loves the new energy of being in the big leagues with mack and theres no simplicity anymore but at least theres mack

sorry for rambling, will smith hockey is just my special little guy and i hope he achieves as much as he wants huhu and i’d hate for him to be caught in between his two lives two friends’ weird jealousy

-🐚

shell anon NEVER apologize for your beautiful mind!!!!!! every message in my inbox is a GIFT!!!!!

and this one is just. such a perfect messy little love triangle that isn’t a love triangle. i’m kissing it on the forehead and telling it it’s my favorite.

because YES. will smith, little golden retriever golden boy will smith, is the center of this orbit and it is so quietly painful for him. because it’s not just about past vs present. it’s about what version of himself he gets to be with who.

with leno and gabe, it was the before. it was college dorms and dumb pranks and watching film on the floor with empty gatorade bottles and too much popcorn. it was comfort and inside jokes and someone else understanding what the usntdp did to your brain without needing to explain it. it was easy. until it wasn’t. until will pulled away.

and he did pull away. that’s the thing that makes me craaaazy. he chose to. he chose to leave boston when everyone wouldve understood him staying to play another year. indirectly, he chose mack, before even really knowing him.

and then. THEN. there’s mack. who’s intense and annoying and weird and always there. who asks for everything with his whole chest and doesn’t even notice that he’s doing it. who doesn’t make will feel like he has to compete with some ghost of his own softer past—because mack doesn’t know that version of will. will gets to be new again.

but the kicker. the KICKER. is that mack also has no idea what leno meant to will. he doesn’t know the soft parts. the things that were just theirs. the inside jokes that still make will smile when he sees leno’s number flash on his phone. and that drives mack insane. not jealous in a possessive way, but in the way that someone who’s always trying to be enough gets when they realize someone else got there first.

and will? sweet baby will? he’s just in the middle of it trying to keep the peace and be okay for everyone while slowly unraveling under the pressure of being the emotional glue for two people who are NAWT friends. do we know the true extent? no. do they hate each other, or find each other annoying? we dont know!!! that is the beauty of the web.

anyway. thank you for letting me scream with you. will smith hockey is the most normal guy alive and he’s being psychologically dismantled by his own need to hold everything close to his heart like it won’t burn through his chest. let him rest. let him cry in a target parking lot. let him be loved back the way he loves.

[ulteri0rm0tives]

It's actually so heartbreaking that in the temperance ending Johnny just.. leaves. Gets all these calls, maybe even texts, from people who don't know the extent of what happened. Who are accusing him, that are mad at him. Especially in the frame of reference that this was V's last wish. That it was V who gave the body up. That it was V who wanted this, wanted to save Johnny, Johnny essentially powerless to stop them ('just scared for ya').

And the thing is.. Johnny just lets everyone. Lets them make their own conclusions, lets them be mad at him. Lets them blame him. Lets them think, that after the love of his life the person who's ever wholly understood or cared about him the most like no other ever could had 'died', that it's his fault, that he could do that to them... Or just lets them think the worst of V as their final lasting impression or mark on this world. Doesn't try to defend himself nor V. He just leaves. Just takes it.

And you would think. You would think the one he would at least tell is Kerry. That the one to actually understand the most would be Kerry. I don't think any of the other love interests could get the whole engram situation like him, they don't have that personal history or connection to the code on the relic like he did after all. Kerry knew Johnny. Enough at least. But Johnny doesn't tell him, and Kerry just thinks V ghosted off on him and Johnny just lets him think that. And it just makes you wonder.. why would Johnny do that? Why would he do any of this?

[the-casbah-way]

to me the most insane thing about the thick of it fandom is the fact that everyone seems convinced that malcolm tucker is a) some kind of untouchable sherlock holmes type genius and b) an all-round sweet caring guy who only ever does bad or dubious things for purely good or logical reasons. we are not watching the same show, it would seem

[ravencromwell]

The poem evokes human greatness and human vulnerability. People are “godlike” in their courage and skill, but even the greatest mortals fall and clutch the dust between their bloody fingers. The beautiful word minunthadios , “short-lived,” is used of both Achilles and Hector, and applies to all of us. We die too soon, and there is no adequate recompense for the terrible, inevitable loss of life. Yet through poetry, the words, actions, and feelings of some long-ago brief lives may be remembered even three thousand years later.

--Emily Wilson's introduction to the Iliad

[good--merits-accumulated]

i fear i am endlessly predictable (writing new dps au which is once again fantasy with Arthurian elements)

[lloydfrontera]

i just realized how delightfully ironic it is that javilon rebelled because he thought it was shameful for the king and adeline to grant rakiel's request when just a few weeks later javilon will be fully enamored of him. completely gone for the man. like. yeah babe adeline had to live in his court for a couple weeks but you're gonna kneel at his feet and beg him to stroke your hair. you are not the same lmao

[simptasia]

why didn't charlie call claire "luv". why didn't he throw out a casual luv at his friends. he's a northerner what else is he good for

[bleue-flora]

https://www.tumblr.com/tobi-smp/765541010649530368/tobi-ctommy-lore-in-2024?source=share

I can't decide what you want me to say... I mean I think I covered all the points of why this doesn't work already... in fact I’d say half of that roleplay seems like there like literal feelings as ccJack expresses when he first logs on, and the other half seems to be ccTommy trying to retcon stuff to please his fans in with ccJack actually outright disagreeing with him. Mind you I planned on watching it but honestly Tommy’s comment about op pissed me off to the point that I didn’t care, however given that comment and Jack logging on as a joke to begin with that sets the tone for this to take place and that context is important. Also, Jack literally spawns in the prison so let’s say we are retconning shit, what are we retconning? Because the bench was in prison, Jack was in prison with his first statement being basically ‘bet you didn’t expect to see me be here again’ framing things as we’d expect taking place right after the finale for Jack. And if he’s in the prison then that lore took place, meaning Jack set off the nukes like he says so in the messages. So, we can’t retcon the finale it happened and that’s why Jack is where he is, what you are changing is the potential aftermath. However that still doesn’t make sense to me. If the Incident stopped the nukes and the Egg, then if they have their memories and are wandering around as if things never restarted then presumably the Incident didn’t happen, but if that didn’t happen, then the nuke and Egg wouldn’t have been stopped so they’d be dead… right?… unless we gotta recon allll that lore — oops but wait we can’t because Jack literally spawned next to the bench Tubbo placed in the prison so that lore has to be canon to make sense… so then we are back to the Incident Had to happen to stop the nuke and if it did happen then we do some speculation and such and say everyone left and Tommy and Jack stayed, which again more work than accepting the actual lore.

Also - who is Tubbo selling honey to if everyone is gone? - and if people could leave this whole time why didn’t they before? (Unless we just mean leave the area aka the start at their Incident houses?)… which in that case everyone didn’t leave, Tommy left and went back to the dsmp area and presumably not many followed… like I just it doesn’t make sense, I want to be on your side innitors I really do, I want to understand you, in the same way I want to understand why retconning the staged finale makes sense to people, but this finale just doesn’t work. It’s closer to George’s whole stream that turned out to be a dream… like it’s this same thing like staged finale, where people take the part of the lore that aligns with their narrative, not taking all the truth just the bits they like. And that’s just a headcanon/fanfiction at that point. Just because you took lore doesn’t make it true, you took some of the facts but not all of them to use it to fit your idea but that doesn’t mean it actuality fits your idea. And spreading posts with screenshots with no links to videos or clips or full context just - OMG Jack and Tommy did lore and retconned the finale - which is not what happened. Context is important, in the same way reading someone’s posts without the connecting ones or months later can become harmful to people. It’s taking things out of context and then cutting off the edges to make it say what you want. Like it’s a huge part of the political problems right now because people can’t even agree on the damn facts.

Why? Because this right here. This grabbing things that align with your beliefs and ignoring the other facts and logic that contradicts it. It’s the picking and choosing - oh I like this lore so that’s canon but I don’t like this so that’s not canon - It’s shaping the truth to fit your narrative and claiming it’s still truth even when it no longer fits. Tommy burning down Tubbo’s house doesn’t align with how you view Tommy as this golden boy -> oh it’s not canon. Dream pretending to be evil to get put in prison -> yea that’s not canon. The finale where Tommy and Dream see eye to eye for the first time -> yeah that’s not canon. But this short convo a year later after the dsmp has officially ended, where Jack is literally disagreeing with him -> yea of course that’s the real canon.

It’s like taking a book and ripping out pages you don’t like and then glueing pages over the other ones in the end and trying to sell it as an original copy...

[marcmorrigan]

finding their heading

OCs: keijo (he/they) | eiden (he/him)

[wifeguycyclonus]

Orion Pax is naive, he’s just not naive the way ppl seem to think he is

[tales-of-chivalry]

I wanna post so bad about like. My Mordred because I saw a post that's like "reblog this and tell me about your mordred interpretation" but like mine feels so Out There since he was made before I really got into Arthuriana and it feels like there are barely any writings that share my view of Mordred but. He's also so important to me and I don't want to change him....

[ichigosoju]

🕸️