#i'm sprung

[tha-wrecka-stow]

You Can Find Pt. 2 -> Here

[dippedanddripped]

T-Pain On How "I'm Sprung" Changed His Life | Billboard Cover

[bumblingbabooshka]

🗣️THAT IS NOT YOUR GIRL!!!! That's LIEUTENANT TUVOK!!! [Patreon | Commissions]

[unicornpopcorn14]

Hc that every time Chuuya is bandaged he's reminded of Dazai and hates it.

And back when they were working together Dazai is always overly excited about it not only because Chuuya detests it, but because finally, he isn't the only one who's gonna be sweating bullets due to the friction, he isn't the only one whose movements are considerably restricted, he isn't the only one seen as a 'poor kid' and taken pity on in the eyes of the public/their enemies, even if only for a handful of missions.

And Dazai will tease him about it, every damn time, poking fun at Chuuya's weak tolerance whenever he complains about them, about why Dazai even does this shit when 'he has no good reason'.

"But, slug!! We're matching!!"

"That's the worst part, I'm associated with a freak!"

But that makes way for an interesting scenario, where the roles are reversed. Where Chuuya, wrapped up in bandages courtesy of a recent mission, comes across a Dazai who's not (due to an attempt, perhaps, or they've been taken from him one way or another).

And Chuuya sees it for the first time, Dazai's wide-eyed vulnerability, him drawing into himself, the faded look in his eyes, like something vital has been removed from his body, much more than an organ or a nerve.

For the first time, they aren't matching when Chuuya is swathed in gauze.

So Chuuya begrudgingly offers his, slightly bloody and crumpled, because he hates being wrapped up in them anyway.

Though he can't help but wish to be encased in bandages more often from then on, just so he can understand, perhaps share, some of that pain...

[cloudybarnes]

I hope that you may consider my request for Draco Malfoy, in which the reader is in Gryffindor house and a muggle. He doesn’t want to admit that he has feelings for her and she feels the same about him but he doesn’t know how to really react to these feelings and picks on her a little bit until the one day she felt the need to stick up for him to a teacher that seemed to have it for him and after that, feelings are confessed and they end up together in the end? If not, that’s okay! :)

Hii thank you so much for the request!! Hopefully I did it justice to how you imagined it :)

Pairing: Draco Malfor x gryffindor!reader

Summary: hidden feelings with draco get revealed when (Y/N) stands up for him against one of their professors

Word Count: 1.1k+

masterlist

✰  ✰  ✰

"Oh bloody hell," Ron rolled his eyes, "here comes Malfoy."

You scoffed, looking over to where Ron nodded his head. The two of you were sat in the yard on a picnic blanket studying for your potions exam.

Hermione, who may have been able to help a little better than Ron, was off helping Harry woo Cho with some scheme he's come up with. Truthfully though, Ron is pretty good with potions.

"Well, well," Malfoy taunted, his two goonies right in tow, "what have we here? Weasle-bee and (Y/N) on a little date? How pathetic."

Draco stood directly over top of where you and Ron sat. He stared down at you with a smirk, not really paying much attention to Ron.

"What, jealous no girls want to be around that nasty attitude of yours?" you smirked back.

Draco scoffed with a laugh, "I'm sure you'd have no problem spending a night with my 'nasty attitude', sweet cheeks."

The way he spoke to you both infuriated you and gave you butterflies. It was pathetic. Draco was attractive; there was no doubt about that. Beside that, he was a complete dick. He was rude to you and your friends, always belittled them, and did his best to push your buttons.

It was infuriating.

"(Y/N) would never go for someone like you, Malfoy," Ron piped up, "you're way below her standards."

Ron was great for defending you, but if you were being honest with yourself, Draco wasn't mean to you. He was a jerk to your friends which is something you couldn't tolerate, but all he really did was tease you.

Draco smirked, "Why don't we let (Y/N) tell me herself if I'm 'so below her standards'. Sweetheart?"

That pet name made your stomach flip, but you wouldn't show it.

You rolled your eyes, "Draco, you're an asshole at the best of times; I would never give you a chance. Now, if you'll excuse us, we've got a potions exam to study for."

Draco scoffed and gathered his two goons and left you and Ron be. 

“What a nightmare that Malfoy is,” Ron stated.

You hummed in agreement, looking back down at your potions book. The blonde boy infiltrating your thoughts, much to your dismay.  

✰  ✰  ✰

In class the next day, you sat next to Hermione with Ron and Harry at the two-person table behind you. You were sat down taking your potions exam, doing everything in your power to figure out what bloody liquid you put in your pot to make a truth potion. 

Just as you’re on the verge of figuring it out, Draco barges into the classroom, late as usual. Snape’s head lifts up from his desk as Draco parades in and takes his seat.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Snape starts and he stands from his chair, “you’re late.”

“Sorry professor, got lost in the halls.”

Snape scowls, “I don’t want your half-witted excuses, Malfoy. I guess you are as stupid as your classmates presume you to be.”

The class starts to giggle, but Draco bows his head with a scowl on his face. You start to feel a little bit bad for Draco. Though he’s a dickhead to you and your friends, you still know how it sucks to be picked on, especially by a teacher. 

“In fact,” Snape continues as he slowly steps closer to where Draco sits, “you may as well just not even bother taking the exam today. Godric knows you wouldn’t pass even if you had an intelligence spell with you.”

“Professor,” your voice shocks you. You didn’t realize your disdain for the way Malfoy was being talked to would lead to this. 

Snape turns his attention to you, “Ms. (Y/L/N)?”

You cleared your throat and looked at Draco for a quick second before bringing your attention back to Professor Snape. “I think it’s entirely inappropriate the way you belittle Mr. Malfoy by saying how stupid you perceive him to be. Draco may not be the top student, but he is clever, and I think it’s a mistake to underestimate him.”

The class stared at you in disbelief. A Gryffindor standing up for a Slytherin is unheard of, especially if the Slytrherin is Draco Malfoy. 

Snape stares as you for a long second before speaking, “everyone back to the exam. Next person to talk gets 20 points deducted from their house.”

✰  ✰  ✰

After class got let out, you walked with Hermione, Ron, and Harry out in the hallways. 

“What has gotten into you!” Harry exclaimed, “Sticking up for Malfoy now?”

“I’m so confused,” Ron mumbled.

“I mean,” Harry continued, “what were you even thinking?”

Before you could even get a word out, Draco’s voice called out your name.

The four of you turned around to see Draco standing behind you. “Can we have a chat, (Y/L/N)?” Draco asked as he turned his back and started walking the opposite direction as you.

You looked to your friends, who shook their heads, but your curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to go anyway.

When you caught up to Draco, he was stood at one of the pillars looking out the window.

“What did you want, Malfoy?”

Draco turned his attention to you, “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Don’t play stupid, (Y/N),” Draco snarled, “you stood up for me in front of Snape, in front of the whole class at that. You called him out for saying I was stupid, then you actually complimented me.”

Draco started to grow a smirk on his face. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you have a little crush on me.”

You couldn’t help the warmth that spread to your cheeks. “I don’t have a crush on you, for Godric’s sake. I just don’t particularly like the way Snape talks to his students. Trust me, it was not because it was you, it was because Snape needs to be knocked off his high horse sometimes.”

 Draco chuckled, “Alright, (Y/N), you keep on telling yourself that.” Draco grabbed his bag off the floor and slung it over his shoulder. He stared into your eyes as his shoulder brushed yours,Draco walking past you and leaving. 

You turned and watched him go, but he stopped a few steps down the line. Draco turned around, smirk on his face. “Maybe next time Snape gives us an assignment, you’ll have me as your study date instead of old Weasle-bee.” 

With that, Draco turned back again, walking away. His last statement sent butterflies straight to your belly. You couldn’t wait to take him up on that offer. 

[kirakirabug]

so long suckers! i rev up my motorcylce and create a huge cloud of smoke. when the cloud dissipates im lying completely dead on the pavement

[coldshrugs]

for those following misery au progress... help i am in love with a throwaway oc

[more than just "suggestive" content below the cut]

"Remind me," Estinien says quietly. He strides slowly across the room toward his ambitious seducer, who undresses by his bed. "Your name is...?"

"Victorien," he smiles. "You may call me Vic, if it's easier to remember."

Victorien moves in front of him, his skin glowing orange-gold in the firelight. He casts his eyes down, making quick work of the buttons on Estinien's shirt, and Estinien admires his lashes from this angle too.

"Vic," Estinien repeats, testing out how it might stick in his mind. His eyes close. He swallows a moan as firm hands explore his exposed chest until his shirt falls to the floor.

Fingertips ghost across his left shoulder. Other than his chirurgeon, no one has touched the craters Nidhogg's eyes left in his skin. He wills himself not to flinch, to stay. Tells himself the violent, still-red, pitted scars are not so different than any other wound earned during the Dragonsong War. He is not monstrous, or bizarre.

Just a man with a history more visible than most.

Vic offers no further touch to that particular expanse of skin, and the heat of his fingertips leaves entirely.

"Does it still hurt?" he asks, voice free of the flirtatious wit he's used all evening. Estinien opens his eyes to find him looking at the scar. Not quite a grimace, more worried than that.

"No." He lifts Victorien's hand and places it on his chest. Somewhere neutral, where only the memories of common scraps and cuts live. "Not anymore."

Vic slides both arms around his neck, and presses his body close, closer. His head falls against his shoulder–the unmarred one–and the flicker of familiarity he felt in the corridor rushes back. Evening air and cold, wet stone. The dreary sky above him, and Io... Io in his arms, her head on his shoulder, her warmth washing over him as his arms wind under her cloak. There is heat on his neck, real heat–Vic.

His lips pass over sensitive skin, clumsy in their eagerness. Estinien steps out of his memory and back to the present, to the hand wandering down his chest, his stomach, into his trousers. Victorien does not delay, his stroke is immediate, urging Estinien to rise and meet him.

He lifts his lips to Estinien's ear. "It will not do for me to have the Azure Dragoon without his lance at the ready. If my hand does not please you, would you prefer my mouth?"

[robindaydream]

Working on a new thing. Details to come.

On the left is Avi (she/her) and on the right is Bax (they/he).

[physically-dead-spring]

Waking up after deactivation was a slow process that, unless you knew what to look for, could go unnoticed. Unfortunately the two that knew what to look for were either facing away or Mal.

First thing that always started was the breathing movements. Or at least, the first thing that could be seen. Other internal things likely started before this, but it wasn't like anyone could really tell and Spring herself was never awake for it.

Small fidgety actions were the next visible change, making it seem much more like she was just asleep rather than dead for a second time.

But truthfully, Spring had been awake and aware for a bit now, just listening to the conversation around her. Waiting for a funny time to interject.

And she finally found it. "Couldn't agree more." She muses with a grin, finally opening her eyes. "Watching arrogant idiots get shown up is always free entertainment."

"About time you woke up." Mal grouses.

"I'm going to put you in a zip file." Spring points at him.

Mal gasps in mock horror. "You wouldn't dare!"

(@emotionally-helpful-illusionist)

[tha-wrecka-stow]

You Can Find The Original Version -> Here

[kairunatic]

Me when I read this:

[teaandinanity]

Question for people who are good at AO3:

Is there a way to force a search to ONLY look for your target pairing as the first listed relationship?

[juuheizou]

Errrmmmmm,,,,,,,,, ik im basically making u relive ur anger and hatred against post rue mutsuki but i need hcs for a a post rue mutsuki who’s a depressed alcoholic and ur the only real one xoxo

Friend, in order to relive it, I would have to have stopped living it at some point. ANYWAY, can't leave anyone who calls me the only real one hanging, so here we go! This is in such a random bullet point format because trying to articulate my thoughts in a way thats actually organized and makes sense is part of why it's taken me too damn long to answer

maybe it's a matter of "show more unglamorous depression/trauma" or maybe it's just vibes, but for whatever reason, I've always seen Mutsuki as a hypersomniac after Rushima, even when it was fresh and I tried to write an angsty hurt/comfort fic (it was HORRIBLE and I RAN OUT OF IDEAS so I gave up and deleted it lmao) about it rather than the action-packed casefic I ended up writing.

he blames himself so deeply for what happened. every step of the way no matter how irrational, in his mind, was all his fault, if he just reacted sooner, if he was stronger, if he just let Torso torture him to death, if he never lived to see Rushima in the first place

he basically disappears all over again once he makes it back to the mainland. barely gets out of bed let alone leaves his apartment, when he does drag himself to work he doesn't talk to anyone and never seems to be all there, and he definitely doesn't go anywhere other than those two places anymore

NUMBNESS. his bleeding heart was the first domino to fall in the lead-up to Rushima, and it's still buried in there, but he's just so... slow... to react... and like I said, often not all there when he's out and about. On the inside he might be crying, or more likely screaming at himself to react to an upsetting case or colleague having a bad day, but instead he's just there, listless and blank like a piece of the background, and only when he's alone in the safety of his apartment will he bawl his eyes out over the situation and his added guilt for doing nothing

in canon, he's a happy, outgoing drunk, and I think his first drink is an attempt to psych himself up for some meeting with Saiko or Suzu or someone close to him, or something like that, that he just really didn't want this new side of him to rip away

it becomes his way to psych himself up for anything he doesn't feel like he can leave his apartment to do but look! if he just has a little drink first, he can do it and won't let those he cares about down, and anyone but the most perceptive and close to him (you know damn well who I see that being) would think great! Look how happy he is! How much fun he's having! We were so worried about him, but look at him, smiling and laughing and talking to us!

before he even knows it, he's drinking to feel normal

from there the consequences can go in so many directions I honestly can't pick just one knock yourself out

[snowangeldotmp3]

who the hell is robin?

(the winter soldier robin au)

(this is a mini au featuring platonic stobin and ronance! for reference; robin is the winter soldier, steve is the captain, nancy is the black widow. @suwunnysideup is the reason this exists, we got to talking abt it and i couldn't stop thinking abt it.)

They’re in broad daylight. In downtown Hawkins. Steve pants, body aching after receiving a blow from the metal arm. Nancy runs alongside him as they stare at the mysterious figure in all of the smoke and rubble. As the smoke clears, Steve catches a glimpse of a blonde bob, a familiar blonde bob. Is that…? She’s alive!  A smile spreads like wildfire across his face. Nancy hangs back, squinting to see who it is. She grabs Steve’s arm, briefly holding him in place, “Steve,” she says, voice low, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Steve yanks his arm free of her grasp, ignoring her warning. He gets closer to the blonde fringe, coughing through the smoke. The blonde begins to turn, and the reflection of sunlight on the metal arm nearly blinds him. His smile drops, a hard lump forming in his throat. He tries hard to swallow past it, forcing himself to speak. “Robin?” he gasps, tears brimming in his eyes and a sickening, lurching feeling in his stomach.

The blonde turns around, and Steve hears Nancy utter a soft oh my god–like a prayer. It’s her. It’s Robin! She’s alive! Oh my god. 

Except she does not recognize them. Steve can see it in the way her eyes remain emotionless, dead. But, he thinks, and maybe he’s just a little too hopeful, he thinks that when he said her name, something registered in her eyes. It’s quickly replaced though, as her eyebrows furrow, fully facing him as she says, “Who the hell is Robin?” She draws the handgun from it’s holster and aims it straight at Steve. His best friend is gone. 

Maybe not, he thinks, maybe she’s still in there.  And it’s foolish and silly and full of hope, but he knows she’s in there. How does he know? She hesitated.

(Later, when Robin is sitting on the chair of the dreaded, but routine, memory wipe machine, sitting in silence as they routinely fix her arm, pieces of her (?) memory resurface. She looks to one of the Russian guards. “That man in the middle of town,” she starts, her own voice surprising her, “who...who was he?”

“You met him earlier, on a different mission.”

This does not convince Robin. No, she thinks. Her voice hoarse from disuse surprises her once again, “I knew him…”

The guards are angry. She can tell at the way they all tense when she says this. The head guard fills her in on what she’s done, what she can accomplish. But this does not satisfy her. It is an itch that she must scratch, a scab that she must pick at. Her voice is soft, but no longer hoarse, as if the return of her memory alone has made her stronger, somehow. “But I knew him…”

This is the final straw, and she briefly hears someone shout “Prep her!”  as the rubber mouthpiece is routinely slid in her mouth and someone pushes her shoulders back, ensuring she sits properly before they place the electromagnetic plates on her skull. She clenches her teeth, waiting for the inevitable, but all she can think about before they pull the switch is; I knew him. I knew him. Don’t forget. I knew him. I knew him. I know him. 

They pull the switch, and the cycle begins again.)

[lesenbyan]

i think the reason Cahcuia's story upsets me so much is that like.

Viera are a long lived species. they can live for thousands of years. there is no way she's old enough to have died from age in the barrier and they give us no plausible way or reason

telling Erenville before he's forced to discover it somewhere else is the only way to give him enough time to come to terms with it to give her the send off she wants from him

telling him earlier doesn't even have to change how Living Memory with them goes if you're dead set on it going this way but it would make Cahcuia feel much more like she actually cares about how Erenville fairs in all this and isn't just saying shit bc she'll be dead and gone

yeah our stated purpose was to kill Zoraal Ja but she knew Sphene's objective for sustaining Living Memory. not telling us about the Endless bc "it just didn't seem important" rings incredibly hollow when we're in LM for .3s before she's asking us to turn it all off which we need to know about the Endless for and she knows we've found the Golden City by then

I really hate when a character is referenced repeatedly throughout a narrative only for them to have been dead for years so everything the narrative made you excited for for meeting them are impossible.

as much as I love Wuk Lamat, I've known Erenville longer, I really wanted to get to learn more about him and I wanted to see him and his mom in happy peaceful times as well as during The Plot and I feel a little bit cheated.

like. if we at least knew when/how she died I'd be a lot more okay with her being dead. but there are 4 or 5 whole instances that would be perfect for telling him and she just doesn't. and not only that but forbade the rest of oblivion from telling him which makes it feel gaslighty/manipulative, and not concerned and caring.

[crispycreambacon]

Taking a break from business exam revisiom to post these. This is Professoar [gets whacked to death with an oar]

(Lyrics on the first image are from My Love Mine All Mine by Mitski, the doodle on the bottom right of the 1st image is based on this meme, and the doodle on the bottom of the 2nd image is based on this post by EggyDaxy on Twitter)