#let’s see 2012….OH FUCK RIGHT 2012!!!!!

[10moonymhrivertam]

Things that continually haunt me: New Who’s Companion-contemporary is a year ahead of the year it aired from Aliens of London/World War Three until the rewind in Last of the Time Lords, which resets it to correct contemporaneousness

[ham1lton]

NOT A CHILL GIRL.

pairings: lewis hamilton x chronically online fiancée!yn

faceclaim: jordana brewster

summary: chronically online, funniest on the grid, and the proud owner of a face card that never declines—at least, according to yourself. your fiancé might raise an eyebrow at the first claim, the world might debate the second, but no one’s arguing with the third.

warnings: just jokes. don’t take any of this seriously.

author’s note: hope u enjoy bunny anon! :D

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

liked by lewishamilton, yourinstagram and 187,938 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: celebrity stylist, and fiancée of f1 legend lewis hamilton, yn yln took to instagram stories to share some concerning posts. what do we think about these captions, ham1ltons?

view all 23,837 comments

yourinstagram MAMA I MADE IT

— user1 yn you have dressed some of the top celebrities and this is what you’re excited over??

— user2 forget that. she’s fucking LEWIS HAMILTON!!! and this is what she’s excited over???

user3 this is a v tame post for yn LMFAO

— user4 like she’s posted worse 😭

user5 she’s so unserious i’m obsessed

— user6 my fav wag

user7 i love the fact she’s dressing zendaya, showing up to her hot fiancé’s races and still finds time to shitpost

— user8 she’s so me

user9 she should be embarrassed. she’s grown

— user10 she will never see this btw

user11 i need to know lewis’ thoughts on these posts

user12 she’s the moment. i want to be her so bad.

— user13 successful in her own right AND secured the bag. #needtoBEthat

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

INSTAGRAM LIVE

yn i’m using lewis’ ninja creami to make slushies and sydney isn’t picking up her phone because she’s on set. so entertain me, my little gladiators.

user1 what flavour slushie are you making and why is it pure tequila

yn no. it’s a margarita mix. mostly anyways. all about balance babes.

user2 worst red carpet outfit request you’ve ever gotten?

yn girl some actor asked me to dress him up in head to toe camo… i wanted to be sick.

user3 yn, when’s the wedding? lewis is literally ready to propose again.

yn not until jungkook confirms he’s off the market. i need to know i’m not leaving options on the table.

user4 did you see lando’s post underneath your birthday post to lewis.

yn i did and i’m angry. how dare he be funnier than me on my own shitpost.

user5 who’s better at gift-giving, you or lewis?

yn me. obviously. lewis once got me a pen because “it looked sleek.” it was a nice pen, but still a pen.

user6 yn, if you could style anyone in history, who would it be?

yn harry styles but in 2012. imagine the chaos if he let me near those blazers.

user7 how did you guys meet?

yn via a mutual friend at a party. i thought his choice of shoes was disastrous and he thought i was funny. so obviously i went home with him that night. then i fell in love or whatever.

user8 you are literally the blueprint for chaotic but lovable. never change.

yn never will, little gladiator. never will.

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

liked by yourinstagram, thirstystan1 and 1,098,125 others.

lewishamilton: sunday best, thank you theststyle

view all 19,827 comments

yourinstagram why won’t this damn app swipe RIGHT?!?!?

— lewishamilton wrong app sweetheart

— yourinstagram oh shit 😓 can you show me how to download the right one? ever since ashley madison shut down and farmersonly.com banned me for “unsolicited flirting,” it’s been tough out here.

— lewishamilton maybe try clownsonly.com—heard they’re taking new members.

— yourinstagram wow. this from the guy who once googled “how to impress a bad bitch” and got caught.

— lewishamilton a bad bitch was impressed, wasn’t she? checkmate.

— yourinstagram yeah, well, don’t get used to it. also, happy valentine’s, loser. 💖

— lewishamilton happy valentine’s, clown. ❤️

— user1 y’all are some weirdos 😭🩷

user2 YN GIVE HIM TO MEEEEEE

user3 #NEEDTHAT

— yourinstagram #TOOBAD

— user3 YN PLEASE 😭😭😭😭😭😭

user4 need this relationship NOW

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

— all works taglist: @luvsforme @yelenasloverrrrr @donttouchthegnote @chelle1306 @bloodyymaryy @km-23mr @stinkyjax @f1kenzzz @ctrlyomomma @aliciaablueprint @theblueblub @namgification @tallrock35 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ariellovelynn @shhhchriss @lifeless-firefly @xylinasdiary @evie-119 @itseightbeats @landososcar @velentine @m1892 @blushmimi @evans-dejong @nixisracing @lethalvenus @sainzluvrr @santanasaintmendes @idontknowlmaoo @sainzluvrr @tetetoni @ssprayberrythings @heavy-vettel @tashisgf @daniskywalkersolo @c-losur3 @lestappenslover @linoscrly (see yourself tagged when you don’t wanna be? or you want to be and don’t see yourself? send me an ask!)

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

[greenorangevioletgrass]

if this is a sin, a punishment (a.d.)

Pairing: art donaldson x popstar!reader

Summary: three years, three encounters. Moving on is a fickle thing, and why is it always worse the second time around? (part 1)

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: smoking, drinking, language, greek mythology references, some german slander lol, almost cheating?, art doesn't give a fuck lol, so much pining, hella angst (i swear the next part will be happy i swear!)

Notes: im back! work has taken up my brain capacity, and while im very grateful to write for a living now, i was unable to write for fun lol. but we're back, and i hope we'll have a good time reading. Big up to @ysuftmikey and @tommysparker for being awesome and hearing out my incoherent rambles about this story. But anyway, please comment, reblog, talk to me and tell me what you think about it! Happy reading!

**i do not have a taglist. Follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass andd turn on the notifications to be alerted for new fics and updates!**

Paris, June 2012.

As the new face of Dior, your appearance on the front row of their runway show is paramount. You’re not just there because you have to, you’re there because you love it. It’s equally important that you are well-versed in the thoughts behind next season’s trends of the fashion house. The fashion show is as much a celebration of craftsmanship as it is a coveted social event, and you’re oh so happy to be a part of it.

Or so you said in your Vogue cover story. 

In reality, you’re getting decked out and posing for pictures and scrutinizing the details of every look that comes out because it’s a job. Sitting next to some buff dude in a manbun that barely gives you enough space for yourself.

His broad shoulder bumps against yours, effectively snapping you out of your reverie. “Oh, sorry.”

You’re about to murmur a politely dismissive remark, but it all fades away when you see his face, profile-first. It’s been almost a full year since you last saw that silhouette. There’s no way of forgetting it, even underneath the dramatic lights of the runway, not even if you tried. 

“It’s you,” you breathe out, all wide-eyed and slack-jawed like an idiot in front of him.

He hears you before he sees you, really sees you, and his heart nearly stops. Of course! You’re right under his nose, and he didn’t see you. And how he yearned to see you since that night in London. How he wanted to lay it all out on the line, pour his heart out, but instead what comes out is…

“It’s me.”

The whole world starts again, pretty people milling back around as you blink. Warmth returns to your face, as you finally regain some sense. “Art!”

He murmurs your name as he hugs you, and he never wants to let go. He wants you to fucking come home with him because home doesn’t make sense until you’re here.

“Wow…” he flashes that signature crooked smile as he marvels at you—not stare, marvel. “What are the odds, huh?”

“I know!” You fight the flight of the butterflies in your stomach, but it’s impossible. “You grew your hair out, huh?”

“Yeah, just… trying something new.” His hand reaches up to the back of his neck sheepishly. 

The blond mop no longer frames his face like Apollo incarnate. You can actually see his face better now with his hair pulled back. The depth of his eyes, and the soft parenthesis of his smile. But at the same time, his facial features look… a little heavier now. A little older. More mysterious.

But of course, you can’t say any of that to him, so you settle with, “Well, you look great.”

Art lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. He’s rocked this look for a while now, but he wants—no, needs— you to like it.

“I heard you won the French Open, by the way. Congratulations.” Your hand lands on his shoulder, much like the last time you saw him, but neither of you address it. Not outwardly, anyway.

(If his heart flutters, he hopes you won’t notice.)

“Ah well, it’s… yeah. Thanks!” He can’t help but light up. He wonders if Wimbledon has hooked you into tennis, or maybe, just maybe, you were keeping up with him…? “What have you been up to?”

“I’ve just been in the studio a lot. Recording, mixing, mastering the new album…  boring shit.”

Art shakes his head. He doesn’t believe anything you do is boring. “When’s that coming out?”

“November. And if all goes well, we’re gonna tour it next summer.”

“Holy shit.”

“You know what they say. The devil works hard…”

But this unstoppable force of nature in front of him works harder. It has been almost a year since you last saw him. Eleven months and some 20-odd days since you shared that cigarette on that balcony. Since you broke his heart. And he still looks at you like a goddamn miracle. It disarms the fuck out of you.

“Hey, listen��”

“There you are!” a tall, leggy blonde cuts him off mid-sentence with a kiss to Art’s cheek, rambling in German as she takes the empty seat on his other side.

Fuck. 

Art replies back to her in German, a little more hushed, but your head is already reeling. You don’t know what to make of this feeling in your gut—it squeezes you from the side, and twists you all the way to your throat. Like wringing the air out of you. 

Art smiles almost apologetically at you, his hand falling on the woman’s knee. “Yeah, this is… Tatiana, my girlfriend.”

You exchange pleasantries and shake hands. Maybe. It’s all a blur and you’re fighting tooth and nail to stay present in this conversation. 

You manage a smile, pushing through the ache of trying to sound courteous. Friendly. Normal. “I was just telling Art that I’m going on tour this summer. You guys should definitely come to a show.” Emphasis on ‘you guys’.

Art opens his mouth, but Tatiana goes ahead and answers for him. Her glossy lips pull up into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. She doesn’t even bother hiding it. “Hm, we’ll see. Art is very busy with his own tour, you see.”

“Of course. For sure.” You nod at Tatiana, getting the message. Your gaze barely grazes Art, even though you want nothing more than to reacquaint yourself with his features.

Art watches you turn away, fixing your gaze towards the runway, and his heart aches. The way his hand rests on Tatiana feels cold—he might as well be resting his hand on a railing. 

He keeps his gaze straight ahead at the models coming and going the entire show. And if he accidentally catches a glimpse of your profile, or your manicured hand when he looks down on his lap, he’ll take what he can get. God knows he doesn’t get to ask for anything for more. 

*****

The Dior afterparty is held in some French chalet, and after making the rounds with Tatiana, Art feels himself disengaging from the group conversation altogether. He mutters out an excuse to get a breather and wanders up the winding staircase. There are still people along the hallway, chatting and drinking by old-ass paintings and bust statues and tall vases. 

Art takes a gamble and opens a door, simply eager for some peace and quiet. The knob gives and the room is dark, save for a large bay window on the other side, the moon shining bright… and the girl sitting there.

“Hey, room’s taken!” You flick the ash off of your cigarette out the window, ready to fend for your occupation. But then you catch a glimpse of his face in the light, and you relax. “Oh. It’s you.”

Art feels his face flush. He really should back the fuck off and leave, but his feet only bring him closer and closer to you into the room. “Sorry, I was just trying to find someplace quiet. I didn’t realize…” he cuts himself off when he sees the cigarette between your fingers, and he chuckles.

“What? You know I smoke.”

“A woman of taste, huh?” His eyes flicker to the pack propped on the windowsill in amusement and he wonders if you smoked Marlboro Green because of him (You do.)

You grab the pack and slide a cigarette out for his easy access, but he doesn’t take it. Not right away. Shit, was this a bad idea? Does he not smoke anymore? “Come on, your secret’s safe with me.”

Art takes another look at the cigarette, then at the door. He raises his forefinger in wait, going over to shut the door closed and then rushing over to you with a mischievous smirk at the cigarette. He looks like a kid, giddily settling in for a forbidden vice. 

This time, you’re the one leaning over to light his cigarette. His hair falls over the other side of his face, and you watch him tuck the loose strand behind his ear. His eyelashes resting on his skin as he takes that delightful first drag. He can feel the nicotine hitting him straight to his head, and that’s how he wants to consume you.

You settle back in your seat against the wall, the smoking hand hanging out the window, and Art does the same. He sees your legs folded over to the side, almost touching him, and he has half the mind to pull them over his lap.

“It’s been a minute, huh, Art?” You take another drag, trying to calm your nerves down a little.

“Yeah, it really has.” He throws away his smile up at the moon, amused at how familiar this is. “Why are you hiding out here?”

”My shoes are killing me.” You absently massage your ankle with your free hand, throwing a sideways glance at your pair of So Kate’s on the floor. “And my social battery’s shot down.”

”That’s not very Dionysian of you.”

It makes you smile. He still remembers (though, in his defense, the whole encounter last year was pretty hard to forget). “I beg to differ.” You lift up a bottle of Moët that you stole downstairs. 

Art’s smile widens as he makes a grabby hand at the champagne. You happily hand it to him, fingers barely grazing against him. He takes a swig and thinks, let me just steal your kiss from the lip of the bottle. It tastes better than the five other glasses he had back at the party.

“So how have you been?”

An easy question for a loaded answer. Art shrugs. “Ah well, you know. Still training, still competing…”

“You still pushing that rock uphill, huh?” You can’t fight the knowing grin on your face.

Art groans with a haze of smoke in his wake, leaning back against the wall. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m all about that Sisyphean grind.”

“Shut the fuck up!” The words fly out of your mouth, and it makes him laugh. And you can’t help but laugh with him. “You just won the French Open. Isn’t that like a—what do you call it, a… Grand Slam right there?”

He raises his eyebrows at you, impressed at your improved tennis knowledge. Maybe Wimbledon did hook you in. “Yeah, well… I still need to win the US Open. It’s the only one that counts, right?” 

It’s absolutely ridiculous, Art knows that, but until then… There's no rest for the wicked like him. And you see right through him. It’s almost like looking in the mirror sometimes.

You roll your eyes, and he thinks it’s the cutest thing ever. “What are you, pressed for time? Relax. You’ll get there.”

“Fair point.” Art nods, hiding his flush in another swig of champagne. “In that case, things are pretty good. Training is good, I’m winning matches, hoping to win more…” he pauses, tucking a loose strand of gold waves behind his ear, “Tatiana and I are doing… well.”

He sounds almost regretful when he says it. But then again, you’ve gotten pretty good at gaslighting yourself into thinking it’s all in your head.

“That’s good,” you settle with a neutrally encouraging response. “She seems nice.”

This time, Art gives you the look. And he always looks so smug when he does it too—the little head tilt, the crooked smirk he’s sporting like he’s excited to get the rare leg up from you. It’s adorable.

So you relent, taking the champagne and chasing it with a huff of smoke.

“I’m sorry about Tatiana this afternoon, by the way. Didn’t realize she would be so…” he grimaces as he struggles to find the right word. Domineering? Territorial? Just outright bitchy?

“Nah, it’s fine. I just chalked it up to her… German predisposition, that’s all,” you deadpan, tapping the ash of your cigarette out the window.

“You’re horrible.” Art grins. He loves it.

There’s that smile you’ve been missing. “Besides, I didn’t know you speak the language.”

“I can get by. My coach is German, my best friend speaks German… I’ve been picking up more from Tatiana, but it’s mostly just… angry.”

His words make you frown. That doesn’t sound like a very happy relationship, if your girlfriend keeps shouting angry shit at you in her native language. Art is perfectly aware that you’re catching on.

And again, it feels like the two of you are operating on two levels of communications. The first one is whatever is spouted out of your mouths, and the second through these wordless looks that say so much more. With every exchange, there’s always a choice; to stay on the surface, or dive in.

Maybe it’s the sparkling liquid courage, or the white haze you share in this little nook, but your next response is neither a safe bet nor a daring risk.

“Do you guys fuck in German? Because that can’t be sexy.”

He cracks up, caught completely off-guard by your question. Leave it to you to always keep him on his toes. “No! God no. Absolutely not. That would be terrible.”

“I can imagine! Like, what would you even say?” You sit up to put on your worst voice possible, but making it breathy and porny, “Ja… ja… ooh, scheisse… oh, ich komme!”

Art bursts out laughing. A true laugh that comes from the belly. The kind that makes his face open up. “What in the Hitler was that?!” He keels over in absolute stitches.

“I mean, I don’t know!” 

The two of you laugh longer than it’s funny, like you’re both relieved from this charade of civil acquaintanceship and finally free to be who you truly are.

Which, in this case, means immature goddamn giggly children. 

Art relishes in this warmth. He has missed this so much, that he nearly forgot he never had this with you in the first place. His face softens. “What about you?”

“Oh, I don’t talk dirty in German. It’s unpatriotic.”

“Fuck off.” He can’t fight the giggles that’s taking over him, not when you’re already laughing at your own joke. His mind nearly gets sidetracked with the thought of you in bed. Would you keep making these witty one-liners while talking dirty? Or would you be completely pliant if he kisses you all over ehile balls deep into you— focus up, Art! “I meant… How’s the boyfriend?”

You smile wryly. It was your fault to joke about Tatiana, and now you got what’s coming back at you. You take a swig at the champagne, trying to play it off casually. “Didn’t work out.”

Oh. It’s sad news, really. But why is his heart perking up, knowing there’s no more guy on the phone on her end this time? “That’s a shame. Are you alright?”

“Well, I’m real fresh out the slammer, so… not really. But…” you shrug easily. “I’ll live.”

Art’s face softens. Sometimes the moments of vulnerability seeps through the cracks of your dry humor, and he gets to see the real you. The storm that’s brewing between your ribs. Head against the windowpane, most of your lipstick either on your cigarette filter or champagne bottle. A picture perfect of secret melancholia. 

“You wanna know the weird thing is?” You inhale the cigarette, and exhale the fumes through your nose, eyes still fixed on the darkness outside, the bitterness is just pouring out. “I can always see how it ends.”

“What do you mean?”

The sensations run through your veins faster than your brain can muster up words. The butterflies of initial attraction back then—the elation, anticipation… and that funny feeling, that ache in the gut that paints the picture. The fight or the cold war that ends it all. And how are you supposed to come back from that, knowing what you know?

“I can always predict the end… right at the beginning.” You put out your cigarette and tosses it out, the faux nonchalance rising again. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am Cassandra.”

Art’s heart aches at that. It doesn’t feel right to be good this time. He almost wants to take it back, renounce Cassandra and he’ll give up Sisyphus so the two of you can be something else. Something different.

Something together.

Art puts out his cigarette as he studies your face. The pensive frown, the look of surprise… he loves that about you and everything in between. “I missed you,” he quietly admits. 

And there it is. The air is knocked out of you, and it’s just churning in your chest cavity. “I know,” you whisper back.

He leans in and touches your arm tentatively, and you don’t pull away. You can’t even if you tried. He traces the outline of your hair, his long fingers finding home on the side of your neck. His thumb traces your cheek, so carefully that he fears you would disappear into thin air. He needs you. Needs to know that he’s not hallucinating this.

This moment. This feeling. 

You.

You take his wrist, but you’re not sure whether it’s to pull him away or keep him there. “But we shouldn’t.”

“I know,” he echoes, although the way he fully leans into you is a whole other story. “I wanna kiss you so bad.”

“We shouldn’t.” You want to say it’s just him, you want to say that you’re stronger. Better than that. But the truth is, you gravitate towards him as much as he does to you, and now you’re just sitting there, both inching closer to each other until your foreheads are pressed together. “We can’t.”

He can’t find it in himself to lie anymore. He can no longer bring himself to care about the girlfriend he had, or whatever reason you’re thinking of right now. Valid, he’s sure, but he doesn’t give a shit anymore. “I know we can’t. But we want to, don’t we?”

“I’m not a homewrecker, Art.”

Art lets out a quiet huff. His thumb is still tracing along your jawline as if trying to commit your features to memory. He shakes his head softly. “If anyone’s a homewrecker, it’s me. It’s definitely me.”

“Art…”

“Yes?” You can wreck his whole existence, and he would thank you wholeheartedly. What bliss to be ruined in the hands of you. 

To his surprise, you pull him into a hug—and to be honest, you’re kind of beside yourself too. It makes him pause, but as soon as he realizes what’s happening, he surrenders.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, with one hand caressing his long hair. You won’t give in, not to your desire. Not tonight. But for a moment, you let yourself imagine what it’s like to be in his arms. What it’s like to be his. 

Each breath he takes hurts because you steal every single one of it, but he swallows it down. His arms encircle your waist, and he braves through the pain because this is his only chance to pretend. Art burrows himself into your neck and makes a home there. You gladly let him in.

For the longest time, you just… stay there. 

“I never want to leave…” there’s such pain in his tone. Such sorrow. Defeat.

“Me neither…” It chokes you from the inside out. But he won’t be the one to end it, so you’ll have to take one for the team. “But we have to.” 

He knows that, but his heart shatters anyway. You kiss him on the forehead, lingering as if it would tell him what you wanted to say. All the what-ifs and could-have-beens. It’s all a tangled mess in your throat, impossible to get out.

You feel a droplet where your hand cups his face the same time Art feels a single tear slide from his forehead down his nose. It’s comforting and disconcerting at times. .

For a fleeting moment, Art nearly hopes this is the moment you change your mind. Say ‘fuck it’ and stay.

But you pull away, and all hope is lost. It leaves with your laughter that echoed in this room just moments ago. 

You take a deep breath, and with a gentle swipe of his tears and tenderly fixing his tousled hair, you do the right thing. “I’ll see you around, Art.”

Art barely manages a nod, staring at the intersection between the wall and the windowpane, as you gather your shoes and your purse and pads out towards the door.

Thunk. 

He turns and sees you leaning your head against the doorknob. Your shoulders are shaking in silent sobs, and he wants to chase after you so bad. But before he can move, you turn the doorknob and disappear out of sight. Leaving him worse off than he ever thought after holding you. 

[cursedcatchild]

Ok, so I watched TOTTMNT and I am here to rant. Also, SPOILERS ahead!

So First of all, if I had to sum up my thoughts into a single sentence it would be: For the love of God, put those turtles back together, where they belong!!

I didn’t hate the show, but I didn’t come to like it either. And no, I did not have any prejudgment just because it was a new iteration. Honestly I was super hyped for this version, because the movie was a blast. Yea, I ended up being disappointed. But let me just elaborate on that:

First let’s take a look at our turtles from worst to best in my opinion.

Mikey:

Yepp, ladies and gentlemen so far I have never seen a single iteration where I didn’t come to like a Mikey. He’s always among my favs. But this version felt super shallow. He had just as much screen time in the series as his brothers and yet I still have no idea who this guy really is. His jokes were lame not really landing, I couldn’t really point out any particular goal or insecurity that anyone could relate to. Also, the guy is super oblivious. Like he took ten minutes to realize he walked into a robbery when he went for groceries. Heck he was having a casual conversation with the robbers. 

Leo: 

Another kinda shallow guy. Sure we seen a bit of insecurity, he literally quoted Rise Leo saying “ I’m nothing without them!” but it felt irreal. Because Rise Leo had a reason to think that, he wasn’t as much of a functional member of the team and he was always taken for jokes. But right from the beginning of TOTTMNT we see Tales Leo commanding his brothers, they listen to him  and even say it multiple times how planning is Leo’s thing. So at this point this Leo is just fucking blind. ( Also April slaps instant self confidence into the boy.) 

Raph:

Ok, this is also the first time, but I never really took a liking to a Raph before Tales Raph. Boy is filled with anger and sass, yet he’s not coming off as a total jerk like 2012 Raph. And of course he's not a super softie like Rise Raph ( I don’t hate Rise Raph for being a softie, he's my second favorite Raph) either. He had some fun pipe up and overall a personality I got. I think he’s the most perfect Raph I have ever seen. 

Donnie:

The best character of the iteration in my humble opinion. He was relatable, funny, honestly he was stealing Mikey’s job as the comic relief, but at the same time he’s the smart guy. The boy is ranting about not being the IT guy and then goes reprogramming an evil robot. Oh and he saved so many lifes, because he stopped a fucking train crash. He’s epic, I swear.

(My fave screenshot ever 🤣🤣)

Now story wise:

🔥What the fuck was this dumpster fire?! 🔥Who thought splitting up the turtles would be fine?! 😑Especially in a 12 episode season? Look, I don't mind solo or duo time. There were plenty of good ones, for example Rise. I adored the Mikey vs Leo cook off episode or the Gumbus one, but for the sake of my sanity Rise had twice as many episodes and the turtles were not split up for the majority of the story.

Like I'm not joking when I say they were together in 4 episodes intotal.😨😨

Now I heard rumors left and right that the fact that they need to make a show was thrown at the team at the last minute ( IDK how true is that) , but goodness gracious even if I was presented with the task with a “ Due tomorrow label” I could still write a better story. Especially with the goldmine what the writers decided to ignore.

Yes, something that would've made TOTTMNT be really unique….. School people! We were promised that we will explore the turtles from the teenage side. Ummm….Hate to break it to ya all but I think there is no better way to do that than putting them into school.

It would’ve been fire to see them trying to fit in, balancing all the cool hero stuff with school life, maybe wrecking the school, seeing how other teenangers adjust to the fact that now giant talking turtles are their classmates. It wouldn’t be some crazy mind blowing plot, but I swear it would've been amazing.

Now don’t misunderstand me. Despite the story feeling like being all over the place it wasn’t that super bad, but I’m pissed that it could've been better with ease.

Also another thing that bugged me, is the feeling of something missing. IDK if anyone else who watched it felt like this, but I legit felt like if we just grabbed the for example farm arc from 2012 TMNT and aired it as season 1. The fact that the turtles were split and they kept mentioning that they have always been fighting together made me feel like I should’ve seen them do that.

Anyways, If I did not take your will to watch it away, go and check it out. It's not horrible but not great either. I’m disappointed and I'm gonna need Rise back, thank you very much!

[laswells-ashtray]

Silly NikPrice head cannons?

Oh, I like this one.

John has on at least one occasion switched his TV to an old rerun of Geordie Shore like right around the 2012 era, not because he likes it but because he thinks it's funny to watch Nik stare at the screen in absolute bewilderment at the accents.

Nikolai is an absolute fucking weapon with a tea towel and will skelp John's arse with it if the Englishman makes the mistake of turning his back on him in the kitchen.

Nikolai bought an ugly ass ornament once while in a different country and now he hides it around John's flat for the other man to find it. His best hiding spot so far was in a sunglasses case.

John has been forcefully befriended by his downstairs neighbour, Nikolai, so he makes a point of forcing him to stop and chat whenever they see her. He finds it funny that John gets dragged into a 40-minute conversation with a sixty-year-old.

John's been known to occasionally sit up in his sleep and just stare at the opposite wall and it takes Nikolai actually saying "Let's go back to sleep." for him to lie back down. He never remembers it and it's only just stopped scaring the tits off of Nikolai.

There is a t-shirt John owns that Nikolai has been unofficially banned from talking about because it's old and tattered, and there are so many holes on show that it reminds him of a brothel. But John is ridiculously attached to the thing. Nikolai learned the hard way that whenever he suggests getting rid of it, he ends up in the bad books for the day.

John has a collection of lighters he's accidentally stolen from people while drunk. Nikolai found them one day and displayed them on a shelf; they've both added to it since.

[king-crawler]

HEY HI HELLO

Sorry for the random message here In the asks, it's ok if you don't see this or answer it since you probably got a lot already and I understand if you don't see this!/gen

But first of all, I just wanna say

I CANT BELIEVE I HAVENT WATCHED YOUR ANALYSIS VIDEO SOONER IM SO FUCKING LATE MAN

It's so well done and so fucking funny, I was literally smiling and cackling through the whole thing, it's shocking how similar our humor is

NOT TO MENTION THE END SCENE AREE YOU KIDDING HOW DID YOU MATCH THE LYRICS SO PERFECTLY TO THE FUCKING LORE ITS INCREDIBLE 😭💜/GEN, POS

It's insane how much dedication is put into it, let alone singlehandedly feeding turbo fans as myself

Genuinely thought it's so nice seeing more content for a hyperfixation I've had since 2012, and the fandom coming back along with this video Genuinely brings me so much joy as someone who's loved this movie since I was a kid

Sorry for the ramble but genuinely thank you for making that video, I can't wait to see what other stuff you do, wreck it ralph or not I WILL be tuning in/gen, pos

Okay second of all

The main reason why I'm sending this is because of sometning I noticed while rewatching a scene in the movie

Now, this might be me over analyzing as I usually do but it feels TOO. OBVIOUS.

SO

IN the kart bakery scene where vanellope and ralph go to bake a kart, they obviously make their way into the building and into the main room

You see all the Karts of course, and It pans to the one vanellope chooses

Which, at first glance you wouldn't really pay too much attention, especially when watching it for the first time, she's just picking the model she likes

..but looking back at the scene

Vanellope's kart model, how it was supposed to look, looks very

Familiar

Because the kart she chose..

...is a red and white kart

With stripes down the middle, with a very similar shape to a..certain persons kart. Now this might just be nothing, it's probably just like I said, and over analysis on my part

But the kart the chose looks WAY too similar to turbo's, not to mention the stripe is down the middle, just like turbo's car on the cabinet art of him

And vanellope could've chosen ANY kart

But it was that specific kart she chose, out of any of the karts

Not to mention in some of vanellope's concept art...

(Art made by Lorelay Bove)

..Vanellope's concept design and turbos designs strike SCARILY uncanny resemblances to each others designs

From the helmet and colors

All the way down to her GOGGLES having the SAME. YELLOW. TINT. that candy's have in the movie, which have the same effect here. There's no way that this didn't have the intent to mirror turbo purposefully

So with that in mind, the kart vanellope chose in the kart bakery scene being turbo foreshadowing, wouldn't be too out of place, nor would it be too far off

Turbo's foreshadowing was always prominent, even in the smallest details you wouldn't focus on, just like he's infecting this world as a virus, little by little, everywhere. You. Turn.

Aaaand that's basically all I have to really say

Sorry for the long ramble, I've been thinking of submitting this for awhile now, especially after I told a friend about this and they mentioned that this should be submitted to you

So I decided to go ahead and just do it, no matter how wild my comparisons might sound-

Anyways, I hope you have a good day, night, or what time it may be, and keep being awesome! I can't wait to hear back if you see this! Bye-bye! ❤️🏎🏆

P.s

I've been quoting these since I watched the video and haven't stopped

Thanks for destroying my humor even more-/pos

Okay bye bye now-

-skitters away-

NO YOU'RE SO FUCKING RIGHT OH MY GOD VANELLOPE WAS ALWAYS A TURBO PARALLEL??? CHAT IS THIS TRUE. IVE NEVER SEEN THAT CONCEPT ART OF HER TEEHEE THANKS FOR SHARING

also God. This is 99% just a coincidence with zero merit because its such a common gesture- but Ralph and Vanellope doing their thumbs up.. maybe Turbo parallels ?? and like the EXACT same poses too:

Vanellope having one hand on the steering wheel and the other doing a thumbs up while facing the camera.

Ralph hunched over doing the double thumbs up with the visor tinting his face yellow. EXCUSE ME HMMM?? WHAT THE FUCK??

NOW COULD I BE CHERRY PICKING? PERHAPS. but when Turbo has barely a minute of screentime, there's not a lot i can pick from, and things SURE ARE LINING UP... (I'm cherry picking)

SO SHHHHHH... ❤️❤️❤️❤️ LET ME HAVE MY LITTLE CONSPIRASCY

[marengogo]

UGH!-7: … Time To Pack It All Up, Y’all!

Be Mine (English Version) - by Jimin  [Be Mine (English Version)]

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

–🐺–🐺–🐺–

⚠️TW⚠️: I’m usually vulgar, but in this post, I might have outdone myself .

My dearest Gurls, Bois and Enbys, 

How’s everyone been doing? Are you enjoying Muse? Are you looking forward to RUN JIN? Are you ready for Are You Sure?!? Oh, let 👏🏾 me 👏🏾 tell 👏🏾 you 👏🏾, the excitement is way too real and I can’t even that's literally all the words I can fathom for now, I’m terribly sorry! That being said my Darlings, I’m afraid today’s blog will have to address a point I’m now realising that I must address, and I quite frankly assumed I wouldn’t have to, given that I am part of The Community and all. You see, there seems to be many Gladiators that wander into my neck of the woods completely misguided.  

They seem to think that my blog exist just so I can be present if one day JM and JK have sex on national TV, so that I can gloat in the faces of the Capulet enemy as I slay them with my mighty, and metaphorical, sword and bathe in their “blood” while I celebrating with fellow Montagues. Well, it is with a heavy heart, and great sadness, that I must inform you that frankly my dear, I don’t give a fuck, about none o’dat. Statements such as “Clearly JM has been single” like this Gladiator over here →  [LINK] or “JK has been fucking pussy every hour, every minute, every second” as the rest of Twitter ARMY believes or “They’ve been living together and have 100% been a couple since 2015, if you'd believe they are definitely real, why are you here...” like others on this app can really miss me, cause;

I 👏🏾 DON’T 👏🏾 GIVE 👏🏾 A 👏🏾 FLYING 👏🏾 FUCK 👏🏾.

The reason why I built this little nest in these treacherous woods is because, upon a sudden realisation, while looking at JK & JM, after careful observation and educated guessing, it started to feel like “Oh, hold on a minute … There might be something there …”. The idea that within this band that I adore there might be someone who is part of the community, like me, literally had my head implode, and not only that. It would appear that two particular members who seem to bring out the best in each other, as well as within those whom they interact with, might in fact be in this possible queer relationship, would make it even better, since we all love a stunning and powerful couple.

So yes, I am indeed here for the representation of it all. I’m not sure how many can relate, but as a minority in so many aspects of life, race, gender, sexual orientation etc, the feeling of having a fellow minority out in society who has the means and the will to live there life openly because coming out isn’t a must, we have the right also to not come out if we don’t want to as a minority is very positive and encouraging for all the rest of us, regardless of whether or not we decide to eventually come out or not. 

Though there’s obviously been many others who’d come out before Matt Bomer, he is the one coming out I will never forget. I loved White Collar like borderline obsessed. I watched it when it came out and it was my favourite guilty pleasure show before Suits. What I loved the most was watching him and Tim DeKay interact behind the scenes or during bloopers with the rest of the cast too, goofy as hell! And then in 2012 (three years in) Matt finally came out and took me by a storm, the fact that he had been able to keep his husband and three children hidden for all that time was also 🤯🤯🤯.

Once again, many others had come out before him Ricky Martin, for example, in 2010 but because White Collar was such a big part of my life, I was so ecstatic, it felt like a friend came out. It was also so great to see how much everyone on set, and the fans, were supportive and how much freer and happier he’s been since then. When Mew and Tul confirmed their relationship last month just a couple of months after Thailand legalised gay marriage y’all should have seen my face, I couldn’t stop grinning. All the speculations, the pictures, the public trips, etc etc etc. Anyways, they’ve both gone through quite some drama in the previous years, Mew in particular, so I am indeed quite happy for them.

So if JM and JK are not dating, or there isn’t a single queer person in the whole of bangtan and all have girlfriends and wives, or there are queer tannies and they are dating other queer people, or whichever other possible combinations, as long as they are happy, so will I, because I am first and foremost an OT7 ARMY and all I will always want is their happiness. I am thus afraid that you will not see me shed any tears, nor hear any miserable barking, in this neck of the woods; so~rry.

Guess I’m not packing up after all next time I’m bringing out my luggage best be for my trip to Japan …! So, in conclusion, and just as a reminder for anyone passing by as well, this has been, still is, and will always be a Possibly Queer until proven Definitely Straight safe space, as well as a space where amongst plenty other things obviously all things queer can and will be gracoiusly discussed and analysed to my discretion; You di~g?

Always respectfully yours 🫰🏾💜,

Marengo.

[el-pada]

not gonna even dignify this with a direct response cause clearly you motherfucker lack basic reading comprehension

but hey! lets have a talk abt this

i mainly base my iterations of him (rise, mm and the space 2012) on 2003 which i stated and made clear multiple times here

so most if not all of the leosagi started with 2003, makes sense, its the most he ever interacts with leo in the franchise, they have lots of great dialogue and an interesting dynamic

you wanna know what else this iteration started?

making them the same age range by showing it in a flashback the same arc he is introduced in

right there you can clearly see hes a kid in the same time the turtles were, the artstyle itself does make it confusing at times but like, even hearing him with the akward voice acting this is a kid (0:0 to 0:55)

they even refer to him as "young samurai" still in training

but thats not enough for you? fine, lets look at the comic design

now what are some of the main things that show up in his design?

the scar

the mifune crests

now lets look at the comics!

in the second chapter of volume 1 we get to see a teen usagi a couple years into his training, before working for mifune, what do we see here?

he still doesnt have his scar and mifune crests

he gains those after become a proper samurai, now we can look at history and see that a samurai was able to be trained as young as 15-16, assuming that was usagis age range we can reasonably line it up with the timeline of him serving mifune for a couple years, becoming a proper samurai then eventually losing him and gaining his scar

if we look at canon hes implied to be in his early 20s at most in the comics themselves (the artstyle just isnt kind to him), which is why i dont draw that iteration as leosagi, just draw inspiration from the character writing for usagi

now lets look at the 2003 design!

see something here? thats right!

his scar and crests arent there

the main things that one can use to differentiate between his life as a teenager vs an adult are missing!

"oh but the scar is just stylized, and the crests arent there for simplifying the design"

actually nope! the animators made a concious decision on his design, shown in multiple angles that its a weird eyebrow shape and not an actual scar!

and tomoe's design shows that also shows they very much could add the crests and chose not to, which makes sense as this iteration has the most canon accurate to the comics take on usagis world

and what did i make sure to incorporate into my usagi design? thats right!

no scar or crests in sight!

and if you really wanna get on my ass the fucking writer of rise liked my iteration on twitter lol

so in conclusion suck my dick and balls and do some research before accusing me of something as nasty as that

[tgmsunmontue]

Saga of Solitude 14/21

Nepo!Baby Bradley and his life at USNA and afterwards. DADT fully in force. IceMav AU. (Begun prior to 'It's not who you know' - the non-angsty version). (Side Hangster, which is ALSO angsty).

PROLOGUE (He remembers)

HANGSTER FIRST MEETING (Lonely Nights - set 2009)

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

ONE (2000) TWO (2001) THREE (2002) FOUR (2003) FIVE (2004) SIX (2005) SEVEN (2006) EIGHT (2007) NINE (2008) TEN (2009) ELEVEN (2010) TWELVE (2011) THIRTEEN (2012)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN – 2013

                The Bronco still isn’t up and running, he doesn’t have enough time to dedicate to it unless he’s got weeks of leave. Fortunately Ice lets him bring it home to the house when he’s back so he can work on it without trekking back and forth to the hangar. Then Ice goes one step better and makes Mav finally clear out the garage at Bradley’s house, and he can suddenly store and work on it even in shorter bursts of time. Natasha is still working on getting the engine restored, but she thinks another week of solid work should have it turning over. Of course, it’s getting the time together to work on it which proves elusive. Mav offers to help and Bradley gladly accepts, he doesn’t want to ignore it or have it languishing for years and end up a retirement project. He can see what it’ll look like in his mind and it’s beautiful.

…            …            …

                Pete didn’t think he’d have to knock and wait. Petra just has a friend over, they were meant to be studying. He’s not sure what they were studying exactly, but it wasn’t in any book. Each other’s anatomy maybe. He picks up his phone and paces back and forth in the garage, not ashamed by the fact that he is in fact hiding from his own daughter.

                God fucking damnit, why won’t Ice answer the damn phone already?

                “Pete? Is everything okay?”

                “I, yes, everyone is fine. Physically. Mentally however, I might be scarred for life. I might have scarred Petra for life!”

                There’s a longer than usual pause on the other end.

                “Pete, it’s late afternoon and I will be home in just over an hour, can it wait?”

                “Did you know Petra has a girlfriend?”

                “Oh. Huh. Guess you got your wish about her never being interested in boys…”

                “Ice!” Pete exclaims, because this isn’t funny, although he can hear someone laughing in the background. “Am I on speaker?” he asks suspiciously.

                “No. But funnily enough noise carries through my phone quite well when you raise your voice. I have Slider and Aubrey in the room. I’m actually doing work, because you know, I’m at work?”

                “No no, this is far more amusing than the latest budgetary constraints. What did you see Mav?” Slider asks, and Pete rolls his eyes, remembers now that he’s meant to be coming to stay.

                “Too much. I saw too much.”

                “Maverick. I’ll be home soon. Just take a deep breath. Take something apart and put it back together again… but not the coffee maker.”

                “That was one time!”

                “The first, only and last time. Just… see if you can fix the toaster.”

                “You don’t think I need to talk to her?”

                “And tell her what? The last time you slept with a woman was… what, at least twenty years ago?”

                “I don’t need to give her tips! I was talking more about, consent, and taking things at her own pace… Not rushing into things!”

                “She’s your daughter Mav, she only has one pace and that’s full-speed ahead.”

                “Oh god…” Pete groans, because Ice is so right.

                There’s more muffled laughing and Pete wonders if this is karma.

                “Fortunately Pete, her mother is a lesbian and likely far more equipped to handle the appropriate birds and bees talk,” Tom pauses. “Birds and birds?”

                “Wait. Who gave Bradley that talk?”

                “I did.”

                “When?”

                “About fifteen years ago. Mav! He’s coming up thirty. I hope you don’t think he’s still…”

                “I try not to think about it to be honest!”

                “Yeah well, lucky you. I had to take him through the safe sex talk. Twice.”

                “Huh. I mean, at least we don’t have to worry about her getting pregnant? I’m too young to be a grandfather.”

                There’s more laughter and he wonders if he can put something nasty in Slider’s drink.

                “Mav. Pete. I’ll be home soon. Just go and find the toaster and take it apart okay?”

                “Yeah. Yeah okay.”

…            …            …

                Tom hangs up and looks at Slider and Aubrey, both who are silently laughing. He might as well have had Mav on speaker for how loud his voice had been. He should have probably turned the volume down, but he has no secrets from either of them.

                “Sorry about that.”

                “Oh, don’t be. Seriously, that was the best laugh I’ve had in a long time. Definitely beats talking shop.”

                “I thought it might be something serious.”

                “It is serious,” Aubrey interjects. “To him. And no doubt to Petra as well. Go home sir. I think your family need you there more than we need you here. I have all the material we need.”

                “Okay. Well, if you’re sure?”

                “Of course. Have a good weekend.”

                “You too.”

                She leaves and he stands, starts packing away his things, taking nothing work related home for once given that Slider is staying, which means no time to do work.

                “I’m going to take the rental car and I’ll be around later. After you give me the all clear that it’s safe to turn up. I do not need to be entangled in your family drama.”

                “You don’t have to do that.”

                “Oh, I’m doing it for my sake. Plus I need to go shopping.”

                “Why, what do you need?”

                “Oh, I don’t need anything. You, however, are going to need a new toaster.”

                Tom sighs, because he’s probably right. He needs to talk to Melissa and Sarah.

…            …            …

                “Okay. So family conference time.”

                “This is stupid,” Petra mutters and Ice looks at him, like it’s his fault that she’s this way. Huh. Maybe it is, he has no idea how genetics work.

                “We just think we need to have an open and honest conversation…”

                “Learn how to knock and wait.”

                “Yes, that too, but also, it would have been polite if you had introduced us to your…”

                “Friend. Cassie is my friend. You’ve met her before! I shouldn’t need to introduce my friends every time they come over.”

                “Do you kiss all your friends like that?” Pete asks, and he realizes he maybe doesn’t want to know the answer to that question.

                “Is it any of your business if I do?”

                He frowns, because no, he guesses it isn’t. He looks at Ice, who is rubbing his temples.

                “It was just a shock…” Pete starts again, feeling completely out of depth. Maybe he should have prepared for this better.

                “That’s not my problem! That’s a you problem! And I don’t need to come out. If anything, Tamsin should come out.”

                Pete’s eyebrows go up, looks to Tamsin who is already rolling her eyes and he cannot wait to tell Bradley all about this conversation when they have their weekly talk tomorrow.

                “Do you have something you want to share with us sweetheart?”

                “That I’m straight? Is that what I need to say?” Tamsin asks, looking at Petra with an incredibly unimpressed look and Pete has no idea how to get the conversation back on track, if it was ever on a track to start with. Tom is standing there silently, which is absolutely fucking useless.

                “If the shoe fits.”

                “There’s nothing wrong with being straight!”

                “In this family?” Petra snaps back, sneering at her and Pete blinks. He’d thought they got on well. What the hell is happening?

                “Of course there’s nothing wrong… there’s nothing wrong with any orientation or how you might identify. I would hope you both know that,” he starts, looking frantically to Ice for backup who continues to just stand there quietly.

                “Yeah, so shoot me, I’m the token straight family member.”

                “Okay… what did we just walk in on?” Sarah asks, standing in the doorway and Pete feels so relieved

                “Tamsin just came out as straight,” Petra snaps.

                Sarah and Melissa exchange a look, holding a conversation the same way he and Ice do, years of practice communicating silently. Although he admits he sometimes pretends to misinterpret what Ice wants on purpose just to rile him up a bit.

                “Okay… we’ve already had this conversation. Labels aren’t always helpful.”

                Pete winces inwardly, because of course Sarah and Melissa are all over this, they’re the stable present parents and they know their daughters much better than he does.

                “I know! I’m figuring shit out. Just… can we not talk about it? Please?”

                Then she’s pushing her chair back and running toward her room and fuck, he thinks he’s maybe fucked up.

                “Shit. Sorry. I kind of went about this the wrong way huh?”

                “You think?” Tamsin asks, looking between all the adults like she can’t believe how idiotic they all are. It’s a look so reminiscent of Ice that Pete can’t help but be amused, but he’s got years of practice ensuring it doesn’t show on his face.

                “Just… we love you okay? Know that.”

                “I know. We both know. We love you too.”

…            …            …

                There has been a shift, a subtle one, but still a shift. There aren’t blatant come-ons, but there is definitely less fear, especially among the younger and newer servicemen, ones who have maybe served equal times under DADT and then not, the habits of years not so ingrained and as he watches some of the others hook up and start likely ill-advised affairs he wonders what it must be like to not have over a decade of hiding such a large part of who you are. It makes him a little uncomfortable when he thinks about it too much, so he shoves it down and away, doesn’t let him think about it too much other than in passing.

                Plus he’s not sure whether he’s cut out to be a boyfriend, his relationship with Callum often feeling awkward, like they’re constantly on their best behavior and apart from the sex being really good, he’s not quite sure if it’s the fact that every moment not in bed feels like it’s a first date every time, or whether between him being deployed and Callum’s work they just don’t have the time to make it work. Or, more to the point, the desire to make it work.

…            …            …

                “What are you singing?” Tom asks, because watching his two teenage daughters having fun and laughing will always bring him joy, but the fact that Maverick is standing in the corner filming and grinning like he’s up to something has him suspicious.

                “Hey, all right now, all right now, fellas!”

                “Yeah?” Petra scream-yells and Maverick is grinning widely.

                “Now, what's cooler than being cool?”

                “Ice Cold!”

                “I can't hear ya! I say what's, what's cooler than being cool?”

                “Ice Cold!”

                He meets Pete’s shit eating grin with dead eyes, expression grim. Inwardly he’s amused, but he never passes up an opportunity to screw with Pete if he can, and this is harmless. Petra and Tamsin continue singing and dancing, but Pete’s straightening up from his slouch, looking contrite. He’s glad there isn’t a camera pointed toward him, capturing the expression on his face because he doesn’t think he could keep a straight face if he was being filmed.

                “Ice, Tom… it isn’t…”

                It definitely is something, because there’s no reason for Mav to be acting so guilty and apologetic otherwise. But he can’t keep the grin from his face, loops his arms around Pete and pulls him into his arms and kisses him, still feeling the little swoop of unease about doing this in front of other people, even if they’re his own kids. It’s a slow process to suddenly be okay with being affectionate with Maverick when other people can see.

                “Ew. Gross. Parents kissing.”

…            …            …

                Bradley doesn’t know where he thought he’d be at thirty, and where he is isn’t bad, but he just thought he’d have maybe more of his shit together. Hell, Tamsin seems to not only have a five year plan, but a ten and twenty year plan and if he didn’t know she was Ice’s daughter that would be all the evidence he needed right there. He has another ten to fifteen years of flying if he wants it, he could go commercial and make it last longer, but he doesn’t really know what he wants, so will remain in the holding pattern he’s in. Unfortunately the holding pattern involves having a 30th birthday party he’d rather ignore.

                “You don’t want to invite Callum to your birthday party?”

                “No! Look, Callum and I aren’t serious.”

                “Oh. I thought…

                “Well, you thought wrong.”

                A few weeks later he’s not surprised when Callum breaks it off before his next deployment, telling him that while they might connect physically, it’s not something that can make the foundation of a relationship, not for him. He does think Bradley will one day make some guy really happy, but that maybe he thinks about how much effort he needs to put into his next relationship. He stews over that a bit, because it’s not like Callum was the most available or present, even when they’d spent time together Bradley had felt he’d always come in second place to Callum’s job. Then again, he’s pretty sure Callum feels the same about his job.

                It shouldn’t require effort, it shouldn’t be work. Or rather, he’ll want to do it, so it won’t feel like it’s a chore. His breakup with Callum doesn’t leave him heartbroken, but it does make him reflect on what he does and doesn’t want, and he guesses that’s the whole point of relationships, to find what works and what doesn’t. There were far too many non-negotiables that they couldn’t work through to make anything long-term work out and they already knew that going in, so he guesses Patrick and Christopher were pretty good judges at least.

                He’s deployed with Javy, and he worries briefly that he will know all about him and Jake. He either doesn’t know, or he’s damned good at pretending that Bradley hasn’t treated his best friend like shit. Not that it probably looks that way from a casual observer, but the guilt he feels tells him he hasn’t exactly been the nicest of people. He’s not quite sure how to make it better or right, but at the bare minimum he should probably apologize the next time he sees him. If Jake lets him.

…            …            …

                They find more cancer, but his annual checkups that Melissa bullies him into mean that it’s small. Because Melissa is his doctor he knows he cannot keep it a secret from Sarah. He wonders if he should admit to anyone that there are two women in his life that he cowers under the gaze of. And one isn’t his ex-wife. Sarah might have a special place in his heart, but she isn’t someone that Tom hasn’t ever just acquiesced to. Melissa and now Aubrey, they’re both women that Tom knows, respects and trusts implicitly. And is also a little afraid of if he’s honest with himself, their competency at things he’s not knowledgeable enough about to have as strong an opinion as them. So he trusts them.

                He just doesn’t like it when they join forces.

…            …            …

                He rolls up his sleeves and starts working on the rust spots on the Bronco. He’s only got two weeks, and Maverick is off somewhere he can’t share, but isn’t active duty at least so he won’t worry about him. Although he is still Mav. Tamsin and Petra help him, chattering away about their classes and Tamsin about her plans for study and starting college. It makes him feel old. When Petra complains about not knowing what she wants to do when she’s older he just laughs and shakes his head.

                “You’ve still got a few years yet. Don’t worry about it.”

                “But you knew. Tamsin knows. Dad and Papa both knew. Mom and Mama knew. Surely you figure things out.”

                “Well, I’ll tell you a secret. Sometimes you don’t know and you just go along with whatever feels right at the time…”

                “Is that what you did?”

                “Well… sort of. I didn’t back then but I’m sort of doing it now.”

                “Wait. Do you not know what you want to be when you’re grown up either?”

                He snorts in amusement at her phrasing.

                “No. I guess not.”

                “But you’re ancient! You’re twice as old as me.”

                “Yeah, thanks for pointing that out Pet. I never figured out how to do maths.”

                “Haha. I just thought you might had forgotten at your advanced age.”

                “Wow. Just… wow. The cheek of youth these days. You want me to drive you around while I’m on leave, or do you want to be asking your parents?”

                “Ugh. Fine.”

                “Yeah well, the rust isn’t removing itself. Come on.”

                “Fine. Is Natasha coming to visit? Does she know you don’t want to keep flying?”

                “Uh. No. She’s currently deployed in the Atlantic. Why? Plus I love flying, I want to keep flying.”

                “Oh. No reason. And that’s cool. I just thought you might do what Dad did and become an admiral or something.”

                “I can give you her number if you like. I’m sure she’d love to hear from you. And becoming an admiral is… well, it sure is something I guess.”

                He’s not even making it up, because Natasha asks about them every time they talk, Petra especially, and he knows it might be because Petra is only a couple years older than whatever kid Natasha might have had, had she decided on a different path. It’s his own path he can’t see very clearly at the moment.

…            …            …

                He looks at the movie title, casts his mind back to the scene in the kitchen of his husband and daughters dancing and singing. This will likely give them ammunition for years but the warmth he feels when he thinks about them being silly and loving makes him smile so he goes in and buys four tickets for Frozen.

FIFTEEN

[manchestereyes]

I had kinda dipped out of the phandom during the was era (sorry) so I would to hear how that era led to them being so connected in this one

oh that is so valid, friend! 🧡 i kinda did too since it was announced right when i got my first full time job and suddenly i didn't have time to engage with phandom stuff anymore 😭 but things are a lot chiller now, so let's dive in! (under the cut because this is gonna be loooong--dnp please do not read if you happen to stumble across this!)

i think to get a full perspective on this journey, we really need to look at the full history of dan and phil. how they forged such a deep connection in 2009 and did whatever they could to be together. how they were blowing up more and more in the early 2010s and seeing more opportunities come from this youtube business. and how one youtube glitch could've ruined those opportunities forever.

i'm sure we all know by now how big of a deal the vday video was but if you don't... it was a huge deal. suddenly this very private piece of their lives was out in the open, long before either of them were ready to publicly address it. and it changed everything. yes, their love story was basically documented already, but they never expected those posts would be seen by millions of people one day, potentially even by people who could give them jobs. so they shut down. they insisted they were separate people and made completely different videos while also showing us the family sized box of shreddies they'd bought for the two of them.

and this is where wad comes in. yes i know i'm jumping really far into the future here, but hear me out--in a way, i believe wad is directly connected to everything that went down in 2012. see, phil's told us that he's always been happy doing amazingphil and dan and phil things. but dan's different.

SPECULATION TIME -- IF YOU ARE DAN AND PHIL, PLEASE CLICK AWAY NOW. THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING.

dan grew up desperate for validation from parents who never had time for him and from peers who constantly bullied him. he's always had a voice in the back of his head telling him he's not good enough, and even when phil tells him his videos are great, he still wants them to appeal to all the people who dismissed him growing up. he wants to be his full self, yet he's also terrified of acknowledging that he could be the very thing he was tormented for. meanwhile, phil (as far as i can tell) had that validation growing up. his parents were older and had more money and therefore, more energy to devote to phil and martyn. phil's always been super close with his whole family, whereas dan (from what we know) has only ever been close with his nana and popsie, and now with his mum too. phil had a whole group of friends growing up, whereas dan flitted from group to group, never quite fitting in, and even had no friends for a while. this is why he developed the cynical, sarcastic persona he's worn for so long. it was his battle armor. every time he'd shown his real self growing up, he'd been rejected. but once he saw how lovely we all are, that battle armor was quickly becoming restricting. but he'd spent so long wearing it that now dan didn't know who he was now.

so we got the hiatus, while dan worked out who he was and how he wanted to present himself and threw himself into different projects that did and didn't see the light (rip dinok our strongest soldier 💔)--one of those projects being wad. suddenly dan, theatre kid extraordinaire, who'd spent two tours working with his favorite person onstage, was now facing the prospect of carrying an entire stage show on his own. on one hand, that was terrifying as fuck, but on the other, it was a culmination of all the work dan had done on himself. and he did it. he spent months physically apart from phil only to find that we loved him for who he is. and that was deeply healing for him.

however, being apart for several months was SO hard on him and phil. phil said he was having a lot of trouble with his migraines around that time and i have to wonder if that could have partly been from the stress of not having dan around for long periods of time. and we know dan had plenty of crises on the road that he frantically texted phil about--enough to have him credited as "remote crisis manager" in the wad recording. and that's the thing, isn't it? i think dan especially needed that time apart to realize that he and phil are truly magical together. and with all the pressure he puts on himself for solo content, he knew it would take a herculean effort to put anything out on his main channel. but phil's been working with a really cool editor for his main channel. and the gaming channel has never had that content threshold.

so they finally both dropped the masks (for the most part) and dove into this new version of dan and phil that emphasizes their connection. because it's okay for them to be this close now. they've already worked with some hugely powerful people (and been accepted by their families) and now all they need is us. and we've not only accepted them for it, we've celebrated it--all the way to the finals of the rpf tourney. and i think that acceptance means more to dnp than we will ever know.

tl;dr: dan and phil had to be apart for a while to see just how much they needed each other. and now that they've experienced that, they know they can never let each other go--and that their connection is just as special to us as it is to them, so there's no harm in showing it off every chance they get.

[rosewaterandivy]

twice as many stars - I. entanglement

Summary: Steve Harrington is man who has nothing but time. No, really. Leaving nothing except a vague note, his daughter slips into the past with only a familiar token for an anchor. His busted watch gives him a hint as to the when and where of it all, but does little to calm his nerves.

Or

In order to piece together the present, you have to rewrite the past.

W.C.: 3k

Notes: hi, yes, hello, i am, once again, back on my bullshit. i have no one to blame but myself for this and my predilection for pondering the nature of time and grief and memory. which, if you know me, is not at all surprising!

series m.list | playlist | next

Steve Harrington is 55 years old when you give them the slip. Wakes one morning to the shrill sound of the telephone, the frantic sounds of your roommate saying that she hasn’t seen you in days, and, quite frankly, she’s getting worried.

He talks her down as best he can, maybe you got lost in your work again, or were living in the lab until the end of the semester. These things had happened before, it wasn’t out of the ordinary.

Ending the call with a promise to get in touch as soon as he knew anything, Steve rolls over to paw at the nightstand in search of his watch and glasses. Slipping on the wire frames, he peers down at the face of the watch, its hands ticking along in an orderly fashion.

7:31 A.M. December 14th, 2012.

You’d talked recently, a call a few days prior to check in. You were working on your masters now, an accelerated course that would funnel you into a PhD in Physics. You were busy, like always, and had already purchased your ticket home for the holidays.

“Don’t forget,” You’d reminded him, before saying your goodbyes, “You’re getting me from the airport.”

He laughed and made a note on the calendar stuck to the fridge.

“As if I could,” He replied, smiling at the prospect of your homecoming. “Y’know, I’m not that useless on my own.”

You sighed, voice softening.

“I know, I just worry.”

He could see the minute shrug of your shoulders, would be shocked if you weren’t replicating that same gesture now hundreds of miles away.

Presently, Steve sighs and sets the watch back on the nightstand. He reluctantly rises from the bed, mentally calculating how he’s going to broach the topic of your absence.

The holidays creep closer and closer and though Steve has a general idea of what you’d gotten up to, the possible where and when, he doubts that you’ll be home for Christmas.

Shakes loose the errant thought that maybe you wouldn’t be home at all as the cold water from the shower hits his skin.

He has faith, he’s always had faith in you, even when you were a precocious kid more concerned with the why and how of things. And he’d only panicked briefly the first time you’d slid.

Nance and Rob were unloading groceries as Steve hefted you through the door, snow melting off your blue boots as you hung onto his arm as if he were a jungle gym.

“Well if it isn’t our intrepid explorers!” Nance crowed, crouching down for a hug as you toddled over. “What did we discover today?”

You babbled something about the swings and flying while Steve toed off his boots and helped Robin start on making dinner.

Nancy ooh and ahhed at all the right parts of your long winded story of an afternoon at the park. She let you lead her around the kitchen by the hand, puddles of melted snow in your wake, until—

“Oh my god,” Nancy gasped, her blue eyes wide, “Where’d she go?!”

And, sure enough, you weren’t there, had just left puddles of water where your feet had previously been.

“What the fuck?” Robin squeaks.

Steve feels the goosebumps erupt on his skin, can sense that something’s amiss as he grabs his keys and makes for the back door.

The Silverado starts up quickly, the engine still warm, as he backs out of the drive. He hasn’t a clue where he’s headed, just knows he has to find you. Starts mentally running through a description in case he needs to give one to the cops.

Blue snow boots and a matching coat. Three going on four years old. Brown hair, hazel eyes—

He’s driving past the park when he sees it.

A small child struggling to get on the swings by herself.

He slams on the brakes in the middle of the street, throws on the hazards, and books it from the cab of the truck, door swinging wide open.

Steve’s sock-clad feet sink into the snow, the crystalline crust cracking around sodden cotton as he runs. He supposes shoes would’ve been helpful, but he can’t say he was really in his right mind when he’d left the house.

Reaching the swing-set, he takes in huge gulps of air attempting to quell his racing heart.

“Hi Daddy,” You say with a toddler’s glee, “Go high now?”

A wild laugh erupts from his lips, because you’re there, safe and sound, only seven blocks from where you’re supposed to be. There’s another family making for the swings now, so he scoops you up with one arm and squeezes you tight.

“Tomorrow honey,” He promises, carrying you back to the idling truck, “We’ll be back then.”

Driving back to the house, Steve’s mildly aware of the clock on the dashboard vacillating between several different combinations of time, much like sifting through static on the radio. Makes a note to figure it out later, more content to flick his eyes to the rear view mirror and find you passed out in the car seat.

They’d figure this out— Rob, Nace, and him, there would be time enough.

But now, he’s not so sure.

A slide is one thing, you’d just pop up somewhere else and eventually make your way back home. But a slip, however—

The first time you slipped, Steve definitely lost his shit.

He’d tucked you in and read the story of an old house in Paris that was covered in vines with the twelve little girls in two straight lines until he was blue in the face.

It took more effort than usual because you weren’t feeling well. Earlier that evening, you’d told them you were feeling tilty which Steve took to mean nauseous. Nevertheless he’d taken your temperature and put you to bed.

“Good night honey,” He’d said with a kiss to your brow, “Love you.”

“Night Daddy,” You’d chirped from beneath your covers, “Tell Mama and Mommy too.”

He promised he would, and turned out the light. The soft yellow glow from your night light seeped into the hallway from where he’d left the door cracked.

The next morning Rob was on wake-up duty while he and Nance made breakfast.

“She sleep through the night?”

Steve nodded, swallowing a mouthful of coffee. “Not a peep, no fever either.”

“Huh,” She sighs, taking a seat. “Wonder what it could’ve been.”

And before she can take a bite of her toast, there’s a shout from upstairs, quickly followed by the thudding of feet as Robin rushes into the kitchen.

“She’s gone, and the sheets are cold.”

They’re up and running before he can rightly think.

The bedroom window is latched shut, and no shoes are missing. There was no note or sign of forced entry.

Steve’s heart is racing in his chest, knocking frantically against the ladder of his ribs because he hasn’t the foggiest idea of where you could be.

After the incident with the park, they’d decided as a family to give you tools to cope, strategies to employ. To let one of them know when you felt like a slide was coming on, to focus on the sensations around you when you felt twisty.

Robin had read books cover to cover and had exhausted several notebooks in documenting grounding techniques. And they worked, you were able to stop yourself from sliding generally, with enough practice.

It didn’t happen at school, though you did have to be picked up from the nurse's office a few times before eventually sliding to the local library or park. Only places you’d been before and never far from home.

“Steve,” Nancy said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He jumped despite the warning, and found himself desperately hoping for a sign— something, anything to tell him where you’d gone.

The daycare is called, as far as they know, you’re home with a 24 hour bug. Robin initiates the phone tree, it’s spring break, so the more feet on the ground, the better.

Dustin rushes over as soon as he gets the call. Familiar with your unique talents, he’s not so obviously concerned until he gets a look at Steve.

“You gotta stop misplacing my goddaughter, man,” He quips with a smile.

No response.

He steps over to the couch where Steve has his head in his hands.

“Hey, it’ll be—“

“It’s not a slide.” Steve grates out through clenched teeth, “I don’t know what the fuck this is.”

Dustin rubs a careful hand along his back, listening and observing.

Steve had somehow gotten it together enough to shower and get dressed for the day. Though he wasn’t exactly wearing his finest— his watch didn’t even work.

In fact, the face of it was cracked, glass rivened with white veins nearly obscuring the hands of the watch. It was an old one, something from that apocalyptic spring that he’d never managed to shake.

Dustin knew the watch hadn’t worked since ‘86, which is why it was all the more startling when it began to tick.

“Uh, Steve?”

“What?”

“Any reason that watch suddenly wants to work?”

Steve shook his head, dropping his hands as he faced Dustin.

“The fuck are you taking about?”

He raises his hands in surrender, “Don’t shoot the messenger, I’m just saying—” He nods toward Steve’s wrist.

Where, sure enough, the watch was steadily ticking away. The hands were accurate, even if the date wasn’t, perpetually stuck on Thursday, March 27, 1986.

The realization is a cold shock down his spine.

There’s no way. They’d been so careful about making the stories of his scars kid-friendly, and hadn’t thought twice about mentioning—

It’s a warm spring afternoon when they find you.

Still clad in your Rugrats pajamas and standing at a grave. One hand is clasped tightly at your side, while the other curiously traces the carved letters on the tombstone.

Robin reaches you first, lithe limbs gathering you up in her grasp to settle you against her chest. You giggle as she peppers you with kisses, not knowing anything’s amiss.

“Hello precious one,” She greets, resting her chin against your hair. “Whatcha up to?”

Nancy and Steve soon follow, the latter having to be led because he’s crying so much he can’t see through his tears. They fall to heap around you, hugging you tight in their arms.

You end up in his lap, still staring curiously at the etched polished stone. Nancy cautiously asks a few questions in an attempt to discern what happened. Too entranced with the words in front of you, your answers are less than illuminating.

She eventually begs off after several pointed glares from Steve and a few jabs to the side from Robin.

They’d figure it out, they always did.

“Honey,” Steve says, noting the clenched hand at your side. “What’s this?”

He taps your small fist, coaxing the fingers open only to reveal a ring. He takes it from your hand, eyeing the silver band and dark stone. It feels familiar, though he can’t say why.

You scuttle from his arms, stepping on his legs with all the oblivious grace of a toddler, as you see Dustin walking up.

“Dusty!”

He catches you deftly, arms reaching out to reveal the bats he’d gotten inked a few years prior. He swings you up in his arms, crowing something about your Houdini-esque escape.

A few things become abundantly clear to Steve as everyone rises from the grass and heads toward home.

He thinks it’s no coincidence you come back with a token of sorts, this ring. Nor is it happenstance that his watch has now stopped ticking. But the real kicker is that they found you at this particular grave on this specific date.

Eddie Munson, surely, had something to do with this.

Steve says as much later in the evening. His voice is soft as you’d fallen asleep on the couch, head resting on his leg, and he hadn’t the heart to let you out of his sight just yet.

“You think she, what, travelled back in time?” Nancy asks, setting down her glass of wine.

“She can already— shit, what’s it called?”

“Teleport,” Dustin supplies, coming in from the kitchen. “It’s the technical term for what you all refer to as a slide.”

Robin nods, snuggling against Nancy in the oversized chair next to the couch.

“Is that possible?”

He shrugs, “Doesn’t matter, she’s already proving that it is.”

Steve brushes his fingers through your hair. It’s taking on more of his color now, and its unfortunate refusal to behave. The Harrington curse, Robin had joked. You sigh softly in your sleep, nose scrunching minutely as the conversation continues.

“So if a slide refers to place, what are we calling what just happened? That, assuming we’re correct and she went back to the 80s, it’s now both place and time.”

And well, Nance isn’t wrong.

Dustin nods and takes a sip from his beer. “You said she felt, what twisty, tilty?”

“Twisty is for a slip, tilty was new,” Steve supplies. “Should’ve known something was up when she said it.”

“Hey, no,” Robin says in a warning tone, “You couldn’t have known Steve, this isn’t on you.”

Nice as it may be, it doesn’t quell the shame roiling in his gut. He’s your father, of course he should have known.

Much like he should know now, as he ponders over how best to break the news to Robin and Nancy. Wonders if he can wait it out in the hope that you’ll get back before they arrive. Maybe it’d be better to talk to Dustin first? He was closer to campus after all, could check things out and see if you’d left any clues behind.

Steve shakes his head, knows you’ve gotten far too good to leave anything behind. If you’re gone, then it was something planned in meticulous detail. Hell, you probably hadn’t wanted them to know you’d slipped in the first place.

He pulls on an old MIT sweatshirt, loose collared and bleached to hell from your days learning how to do laundry. Tugs on some jeans and toes on his loafers— comfortable house clothes since he wouldn’t be going anywhere today.

He pauses at his dresser, transfixed by the picture from your college graduation. Mortar board nearly falling off your head and everyone crammed into frame. Steve and Robin hugging you tight, Nancy’s arms thrown over your collar as she stood on tip toes behind you. Dustin had snapped the photo and Steve wasn’t even looking at the camera because he was too busy being so goddamn proud of you.

Youngest graduate in the history of the department, not even old enough to drink and had graduated summa cum laude. Steve didn’t understand it, not like Dustin did, the hold that science and mathematics had on you, the wonders they possessed. But he always had a hunch it had something to do with your ability to slip.

He’d asked about it once, when you were home for the summer, culling through data sets from your latest experiment.

“It’s like, y’know how some people can see colors when they hear music?”

Steve had smiled and leaned against your door frame.

“Yeah, had a friend who could do that once.”

You’d smiled then, and laughed.

“Me too.” You swiveled in your chair, turning from the desk. “So, it’s like that but I can see and hear these threads of time all around me.”

“You can hear them?”

You nodded, “When you pluck a string on a guitar and it vibrates with sound?”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s like that.” Your eyes focused on something to your left, a dreamy look falling on your face. “It’s beautiful, it’s a symphony.”

And he’d left it at that. Like most things in his life, he knew it was something he’d never truly understand. But he’d made his peace with that a long time ago.

Now though, he had to wonder if that was for the best. If they’d done right by encouraging you in this way.

Of course, they all had their theories. Dustin was convinced it had something to do with repeated exposure to the Upside Down. Robin chalked it up to a blip from the universe. Nancy had to be talked down from intervening with a child psychiatrist with a visit from El.

But Steve never really gave it much thought. He’d always wanted to be a dad and considered himself the luckiest bastard to end up with a kid like you. Out of the three of them, he was much more attuned with your wants and needs growing up. Grew comfortable and confident in relying on his instincts when it came to you.

He’d never experienced anything so rewarding in his entire life, and he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth and see your abilities as something to correct. And hoped he was doing the right thing by you in doing so.

Steve goes to put on his watch, the one you’d gifted him several Christmases ago, and stops before he can fasten the band to his wrist. He pulls the drawer of the nightstand open hastily, hand groping blindly for worn and cracked leather, a cool brush of metal.

Prizing the broken watch in his fingers, his heart plummets to his stomach as he hears the soft ticking of its hands. He sets it down gently on the tabletop and rummages around for a circlet of silver and onyx.

He comes up empty handed, of course he does. Stumbling back, he catches himself against the bed and fumbles for the phone. Before he can start dialing, the damn thing rings in his hand, illuminating Dustin’s name.

He doesn’t even offer him the courtesy of a hello.

“I found something.” His voice is tight, restrained like he doesn’t want to break the news to Steve.

“Yeah,” Steve swallows, “Me too.” He drags a hand across his jaw and sighs in exasperation. “You go first.”

Dustin pauses and Steve can hear a crinkling of paper as he unfolds something.

“It’s not much,” He begins. “Just a note from her that says, ‘I’ll see you at the beginning.’”

Hearing this, Steve bites his lip and wishes he didn’t know what it meant. But paired with the evidence to hand, his missing daughter, an intemperate watch, a note, a shuddery feeling roiling in his gut, and a missing token from a lifetime ago—

It would seem that Steve Harrington, age 55 of Hawkins, Indiana, is a man who has nothing but time.

[christophersg1rl]

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬? 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: lots of smut, names (ma/baby/mylove/mama)

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you and Matt were best friends until one day he catches you masturbating.

me,nick, and chris were all just sitting down on the couch watching tv, we didn’t know where Matt went, because the time we woke up he was already gone which sucked because he was your best friend and you loved talking to him. And seeing him (mostly). “𝐲/𝐧 me and nick are gonna go get McDonalds, do you want anything”chris questions as i tell him no because i needed some me time and Matt was out with one of his hoes, as we called them. “Make sure to lock the door once we leave y/n” nick glances at you as they walk out, you immediately lock the door. you decide to go up to your room, you lived with the triplets since you all had been friends since 2012. They treated you like their little sister, except for Matt. Matt always flirted with you, and it made you fucking crazy for him. Sometimes you would even think about him doing things to you at night, it made you go crazy. As soon as you got into your room you put one of your playlists on and dimmed your lights and grabbed your vibrator, it barely made you get off but since you didn’t go around sleeping with the entire world like your bestfriend Matt did, you barely ever got any dick. You slowly take off your lacy panties and put the vibrator right in your clit, it was your weakest spot. Once it was on your clit you moaned loudly knowing that nobody can hear you since nobody was home. The whole time you were thinking about Matt and his fingers slipping in and out of you.

MATTS POV-

I had just parked my car, I was with one of my sides all day, I had no one really and I always needed something to get off, and my side was just always there. I could tell that chris and nick weren’t home because their skateboards were gone, they probably had left to McDonald’s because they couldn’t get me to drive them. I realized the door was locked and grabbed my keys, I unlocked the door and thought nobody was home assuming y/n went with them. That was until I went upstairs and heard whimpers and they were LOUD whimpers. I got scared and said y/n’s name a couple times to see if she would answer. but she wouldn’t. as I open her door, I see her pushing her fingers in and out of her pussy.

Y/NS POV-

I was so close to getting off until I hear my door open. holy shit it was Matt. “OMG Y/N I AM SO FUCKING SORRY” He says covering his eyes accidentally falling on the floor. “OMG MATT ARE YOU OKAY” I quickly put my lacy panties on and go to help him back up. “y/n I am so fucking sorry.” Matt says, as blood drips from the top of his head, he had got a scratch from falling. “oh matty let me help you your bleeding” I whine as I run to get my first aid kit, then run back to my room as I sit him down. “you know you could knock next time right?” I sarcastically say earning a little giggle from him. But I knew this was my chance to do something. I know he’s my bestfriend but, wouldn’t it be a little fun. I continue to take care of his scratch as I get on top of his lap, this ofcourse shocks him but he remains still. I rock my hips forward a little bit earning a groan escaping his lips. “all done matty” I say trying to get off him but he grips my waist. “your not gonna give me a boner and try to escape me already, y/n.” he says, putting his hands on my ass. “so wet already?” he laughs teasing my clothed clit with his big hands. “Matt please.” I moan into his ear, making him stop the teasing. “If you want something ma, you have to ask for it.” he continues to kiss my chest. “Matt please fuck me. I need you, I’ve needed you.” I whine. “how long has it been baby? How long has it been since someone has touched this pretty pussy?” he says now taking off my panties and sticking 2 fingers in me, causing me to moan very loud.he continues at a rapid pace, knowing my orgasm is about to come I moan into his ear letting him know I’m close. “cmon baby give it to me.” those very words made me come so hard and quick, I had never felt that kind of pleasure, it made me want more.”Matt I need your fucking dick now.” I demand. this definitely surprises him as I pull his shorts down and his boxers and god he was fucking huge. It literally slapped his stomach. “I want you to fucking ride me mama, you understand?”he groans as I simply nod and align his cock with my entrance, slowly pushing him into me. when I say he’s huge, I fucking mean it. “holy fuck baby your so tight I might just fucking cum now.” he moans laying his head back. “holy shit matty your so big” I moan jumping up and down his huge cock, I was already fucking close. that’s when I heard “we’re home” coming from downstairs, I covered my mouth quickly. This caused Matt to look up. “I have to get off they can’t catch us” I say trying to get off but he grips my waist once again thrusting into me even harder now, I have to cover my mouth so the boys won’t hear me. “Y/n your gonna be a fucking good girl and cum on my cock and stay quiet.” he demands. “I’m already fucking close baby. I’m gonna fill u up mkay?” I nod as he thrusts into me even harder, I felt my orgasm coming already. “matty I’m about to cum.” I whisper into his ear trying to be quiet as I hear nick and chris looking for us downstairs. “I’m cumming baby cum with me.” Matt groans quietly as we both reach our orgasms together, quickly getting dressed right after to go downstairs.

“So what are we?” I ask before leaving the room.

“Well you’re definitely mine now 𝐲/𝐧.” he giggles walking out with me,

_______________________________________________

A/N - FIRST SMUTTT!!!

[imavikingo]

I was thinking on when Steve lost Bucky for the 3rd time (1st when he was drafted, 2nd when he was told he was MIA, 3rd when he fell) he tried to get drunk to forget, right? If he did that then...

What did he do when he lost him for the 6th time? (4th when he escaped, 5th when Bucky was in cryo, 6th the snap)

I mean technically Bucky died twice, but Steve lost him six times already.

And of he tried to get blind drunk once of those times- did he self-harm in other ways too?

To dull the pain? He can't get drunk, he heals quickly, he can't die easily either, so what did he do?

He wouldn't want to die when he knows for a fact that Bucky is alive ofc, but I can't see him acting normally or without a little bit of reckless energy.

To dull the pain and disappoinment (he can't feel like that, that's Bucky's choice -Cryo-. But how it hurts him tho).

(unrelated to this line of thought but it is relevant to the idea regardless)

That's why I can't fathom the idea of Steve abandoning Bucky in endgame.

He lost him 6 six (6) times already and he just... Went away? To a woman he only kissed once? After all he did for him, the pain and loss?

Even if you don't ship them, you have to think that to be really ooc on Steve's part. Everything in his character arc in the MCU is related to Bucky (and loss). Yes he liked Peggy, but he didn't suffer nor mourn her the same way he mourned Bucky (She was alive, but had dementia and was also very old, and had her own life).

His feelings for Peggy were more a "what if" and lost possibilities than anything.

She was an idea, a fantasy (that's why Wanda used that when fighting with him, right?). Not something real.

He wanted to be with her, but he didn't really knew her or love her (at least I don't think so).

She was the first woman that saw him for him after all. Before everything. But that's it.

He liked her for that (and her strong personality too) but did he love her? He didn't try to get on dates after he was defrosted because he knew people would only see Captain America, not Steve Rogers. He needed to represent an ideal and knew no one would understand (the pain, loss) and have the patience to be with him. That’s why he also highlighted the shared life experience thing.

So she was comforting, reassuring in a toxic and unhealthy kind of way (memories and fantasy aren't healthy when used like that). But still a what if and lost opportunity. He had to let her go at one point. And he did(!) But they had to fuck it up…

I mean... it's the same thing when you're still hung up on an ex. You want to think of the possibilities, the what ifs, the "what could have been" But when you go back to them nothing is like you remembered, nothing is like you wanted and you are dissatisfied and disappointed.

(Because all of that was in your head, it wasn't real).

And besides, he knew she had a life of her own (a fulfilling one at that) so what, he was selfish enough to fuck that up too? Without helping HIM? Without saving HIM? Abandoning HIM? After just being brought to life? After grieving him for another five years? Bucky was his best friend, his companion, his best pal…

He wouldn't do that to him. He would die before hurting Bucky (as they already stablished for most of the fucking movies) He even was like “You don’t understand” when Peggy talked to him in the bars ruins.

I think in canon (not ooc/EG)Steve would entertain the idea, but would decide to just keep it as that: An idea, a fantasy. And move on like he already did before.

Also the idea that it was a Peggy from an alternative universe is flawed because he abandoned HIS Bucky, even if in the other universe he helped or whatever.

In HIS UNIVERSE he abandoned his best friend? Not believable. And the logic of “oh it didn’t change their timeline because it was another one” is also stupid.

They already fucked up with Steve fighting 2012!Steve and also telling him about Bucky (creating another universe more than likely). And they were supposed to be undetected. Not create new universes. Thats also why I’m so keen on the idea of Steve being in a prison or something. He already fucked up once, twice if you think he went to the past to stay.

How can he be free while fucking up the timelines? Yeah, nah.

Also… they implied Steve can’t age in a movie if I remember correctly…. How did he become old?

And the idea that he went to Peggy because “Tony told him to have a life outside of captain america” is fucked up. So what? He relates his Bucky’s existence with work? FUCK OFF. Endgame Steve is fucked up and the worst character assassination I’ve ever seen.

They were just too annoyed with the fans because we ship Stucky (even tho they used that to promote the movies in panels and stuff, hypocrites -​I remember clearly the producers? of the movie talk about gay characters and the actors talk about Stucky in those panels for then…be one of the russos in like 1 second and have that shit ass, fuck ass ending for Steve and Bucky. That shit was vile-).

im also annoyed with some people that now shit on Steve when umh… did you see the movies? The other movies? Not only Endgame? (Btw the only one that got a “good ending” was Tony because he died as a hero in front of everyone -even tho he didn’t want to help at first because he had a good life, the ONLY ONE OF THEM might I add-, everyone else got worse, is dead or they’re neglected and treated as haha funny character or haha funny moment)

Im all for ships and ideas and headcanons (even when I hate them with passion, you do you) but don’t try and use this character assassination as an excuse to shit on Steve. If you NEED to shit on a character for your ship to work, then you’re not doing a good job at it or your ship sucks. Idk what to tell you.

[a-fluffer-nutter]

Rapscallion

A/N - Day one of August's Tickletober! Anticipation is today's prompt, so here is a Deadpool and Wolverine fic! Please enjoy.

Word Count: 975

     “My dearest fanfic readers, you have absolutely no idea how horny I am right now,” Wade let out an exaggerated moan as he stared deeply into Logan’s fiery eyes. Fiery was an understatement, the literal pits of hell could be seen if you looked into his pupils long enough. 

      “I have no fucking clue on why you keep talking to ‘the readers,’ but it's starting to piss me off,” Logan snarled, his to the running across his top row of teeth. 

       “Oh, you are such a tease, Peanut! Speaking of bits, mine has an itch that needs to be juiced.”

      “You are one of the most revolting people I have ever met,” Logan's center claws slipped out from between his joints, lowering just enough for Wade’s wrists to feel pinpricks of anticipation. “What I wouldn't do to tear your bottom jaw off your disgusting face so you could never speak again.”

         “Admit it, sweetheart,” Wade cooed, ready to recoil the second his statement was finished, “You'd miss the blowies way too much.”

        As Wade turned his head away, burying his face in his shoulder, he waited for his wrists to be sliced like a fish filet. However, this didn't happen. Uncomfortably shifting underneath Logan's weight, wrists still trapped above his head. 

       It was a super-secret mission that they were on, Wade had told Logan. Knowing Wade, Logan presumed that this mission was to spy on the Avengers or some shit, especially as Wade kept humming this one “heroic” song that he had told Logan was “really fucking cool in 2012.” While there were no sightings of Thor or Hawkeye, the two, in traditional superhero fashion, did manage to stop some sort of evil entity that wanted to take over Philadelphia. Aside from the Liberty Bell now having a new crack, Wade's fault naturally, the day was saved and our heroes needed a place to crash. Despite saving the day and all, they were a bit short on pocket money, so a grungy Motel 6 was their destination. Logan stayed in to watch TV, which based on the size and shape of it, was miraculously showing films in color, while Wade went hunting for the perfect Philly Cheesesteak. This temporary separation worked exceptionally well until Wade returned and spoiled the end of the film Logan was watching. 

       “It's not my fault your universe was still waiting for Incredibles 2! I thought you'd seen it!”

       “Why would I be watching it if I hadn't seen it yet?”

        “Maybe it's your favorite movie, I don't know. You seem like the kinda guy that would prefer more manly movies like Top Gun, Bridesmaids, or Velocipastor, but who am I to judge?”

      Naturally, Wade continued to push his luck and Logan's buttons, which lead them to our current situation. Logan pinning Wade on the bed, his wrists trapped between two of Logan's claws and Logan's entire weight on top of him. 

       Squirming as if he was wearing “grandma's surprise Christmas sweater,” Wade now looked back up at Logan, muscles tensing in the slightest. 

      “So, are you gonna do the stabby thing? Spaw my blood everywhere like a Quintin Tarantino film?”

      “I'm not sure yet.”

      “Ah, I see,” Wade clicked his tongue. “Well, we don't have to do the whole slicing me up like a sandwich thing. While this joint certainly isn't a Four Seasons, we don't need to Rudy Giuliani it all and spread mysterious liquids everywhere. Wait, who is the president in your universe?”

        “Matthew Perry?”

        “Ah, shit. Those kids from Smosh are psychic!” Logan let out a grumble, reminding Wade of his current predicament. “Shit, um, what should you do to me? Bondage? Sing songs of the French Revolution? Whisper sweet nothings in my ear? Hold me closer, tiny da-ack!” Wade was cut off by his own vocal tic. Logan released one of Wade's arms and when Logan repositioned his own, he accidentally grazed Wade's side. “What the shit, man? You didn't tell me I was gonna need to point out where the scary man touched me on a doll to my therapist this week!”

       “What the fuck was that noise, bub?” Logan mused; one eyebrow cocked upward. Making a humming sound, Logan moved his hand back to Wade's side and squeezed. Once again, Wade made a strangled yelp. 

       “Okay, maybe we can get back to the stabbing and bleeding part again,” a wave of nervousness washed over Wade's words. 

       “Of course, why wouldn't you be ticklish too?” Logan said mostly to himself, and he continued to poke and prod Wade's side, slowly walking his fingers up to the lower rib cage. 

       “Marvel Jesus does not condone this level of violence!” The last two words were an octave higher as Logan decided that was the moment to stop holding back and quickly skitter his fingernails across the sides of his ribs. “Shit! Peanut!”

       Logan continued his assault silently, trying not to smile as Wade writhed beneath him. Shouting out obscenities and references that went over Logan's head, Wade's laugh became increasingly hysterical and frantic as Logan's fingers journeyed upward. 

        “This is communist propaganda! A war crime! Don't you understand the Geneva Convention? You heathen. You rapscallion. A scoundrel. A hippocampus! A flou-!” Wade's words vanished from his tongue, replaced with loud cackles and hiccups. 

       “Damn shame this is the only way to shut you the fuck up, bub,” Logan broke his silence, his amusement of the situation now apparent by the upturned curl of his lips. He was thankful that Wade's eyes were as shut as they could be, Wade seeing this little bit of joy could be a catalyst to something bigger than Logan wanted to deal with any time soon. 

       What Logan didn't know was that Wade was already plotting his revenge. Something so devious, cruel, and sexy, that the world was not prepared for it. 

[puffyducks]

DCRC Week #14 (Part 2)

You already know what the fuck goin on. It's time for Quacklight: Bewitching Vampires in Duckburg AKA Donald Duck Twilight it's just Twilight you guys. I am ready for some HOT Y.A. DUCK ROMANCE!!!!

Why does he walk like that what the fuck is wrong with him

....hey wait a minute-

Everyone say BOOOO DONALD BOOOO he's being a misogynist 👎 it's cause vampires are hot hope this helps

girl 💀 not the claw marks

This is cause Scrooge lives there btw

Let her live her self insert wizard dreams dammit!

CLARA CLUCK SIGHTING LET'S FUCKING GOOOO

AAAAAH AAAAAAAAAAAAH SOMEBODY BUY THEM BROWN CONTACTS dude Dickie is just zonked the fuck out you can't convince me that she's not

NOOO HE GOT HIT ON THE ASS </3

oh nooo... she's stupid...

btw 15 dollars in 1790 is like 500 modern dollars if you adjust for inflation so ya boy is rich as fuck..... ladies 😏

No she's right stop holding out your skincare routine on us Donald. I mean Donward.

I read "SMAACK" and my first instinct was to think that Donald just full power bitch slapped Daisy straight across the face they really should've chosen a better choice of onomatopoeia there

DICKIE SIGHTING hi dickie :3

Listen. I've read this comic before. I thought I would be ready for cunty vampire Magicstone. I was not ready for cunty vampire Magicstone.

Also they don't even get cool new vampire names... though now that I think about it I guess "Magica" and "Gladstone" are already kinda vampire-sounding names aren't they. Like when have you ever met a mf called GLADSTONE?

NO IT WASN'T YOU GUYS FUCKING BROUGHT HER THERE 😭

the NUCLEAR CODES?!?!?!?

oh

They should let Donald bite people more often. Especially Gladstone.

I think he should have shot them with a real gun

So Donald and Scrooge are gonna act like they didn't enjoy the romance movie but here they are, sitting there looking babygirl as fuck, listening to Daisy and Brigitta rattle off about their whole ass YA novel masterpiece. Nice try boys I know what you are 🫵 you like vampire romance suckers

See??? Losers

Ok that's it I don't know what else you want me to say. I haven't even actually read Twilight or watched the movies sorry but I feel like I have a good enough understanding of what happens just from like being someone that was alive from the years 2008-2012. Happy Halloween 🦇 what do you mean it's septemb

[itzzaira]

WHOOOO YESTERDAY'S ART IS DIGITAL NOW!

Poor Leo, he's really going through it isn't he? First he breaks down in front of Raph, Donnie won't talk to him, and then he starts crying in front of a comatose Mikey... at least our boy finally woke up.

Two down... one more ninpo to reconnect with.

This is based on chapter 19 of The Wrong Side of the Portal - a 2012/2018 crossover fic, where after the movie, instead of getting home... Leo gets trapped in the 2012 dimension instead.

With no way to contact his brothers and his ninpo acting odd... either he, or one of the others, must find him a way home... before someone else does.

~~~~~

[Scene this is based off]

Confused, Leo went to look at Mikey's ninpo again, letting out a yelp when he saw a pair of red eyes looking at him, exhausted, but shining with life.

He blinked. 

Mikey stared back.

"...Mikey?"

"...Hm." he groaned, shifting just a little to get more comfortable, unable to do so properly because Leo was sitting on his legs. "...Wha...? Leo...?" He winced. His voice sounded rough.

The older one blinked again. 

...Mikey.

Woke up.

Just like that.

His baby brother. Who had been in a coma two seconds earlier, had woken up. 

But why did-

Mikey had always been a family person.

"..." Leo looked down at his ninpo. Then at Mikey's. 

...Oh.

Ooooh. 

Leo snorted- because even if he still couldn't feel Donnie, he could finally feel the youngest- his ninpo expressing the concern, care, and love he had trouble showing as the box turtle was trying to figure out what the heck was going on, squinting his eyes and smacking his lips. Then he looked down at their hands. At their pinkies.

The four, beautiful dots in front of him. And smiled with relief. He made no effort to remove his hand as he slumped back. 

Seems like Leo's theory had been right after all. He giggled, then burst out laughing.

But then that smile fell. The laughs turned into shuddering breaths as he covered his mouth. Not those heartbreaking sobs from before, but silent tears of relief.

Leave it to Mikey to wake up because of fucking family magic or whatever the heck their ninpo was.

Stuttery hands reached for his own- Leo noted the scars had responded to his ninpo as well- allowing Mikey to see the absolute mess he was in. "Why you cryin'...?" He slurred, attempting to brush the tears away. Before he gave up. And instead let his hand rest on Leo's. "Whas... what's wrong?"

"You-" he laughed wetly because the fact the nunchuck-wielder was worried about Leo after waking up from a fucking coma was so Mikey-like the slider could weep again. Though maybe he shouldn't, he was acting like a crybaby.

Well. This time he had a good excuse.

"Nothing, Michael." He murmured with a smile, putting Mikey's hands down and cupping his face lovingly, then reaching down to gently bump their heads together with a soft churr. "Nothing at all."