#my playlists are the chef kiss emoji
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Chefâs Kiss
Is it evil to agree to have dinner with my hot next door neighborhood daddy and his kids with an agenda of my own? Maybe my dear!However I am literally at the front door of his home taking a breath and then knocking on it hard. A few minutes pass as I hear feet shuffle to rush over and open it a firm and assured handshake is offered as I cross the threshold into his home and I know it is far too late to back out now.
âHello! I made itâ
âGreat to see you! Lawrenceâ
âMay I ask?
âTake a lead off and sit â
âIâll get you some wineâ
âThank you! Perfect for meâ
âWhat did you say?â
âI made these for you â
âReally! Oh sweet!â
âIâll have some later â
âAre you sure?â
âI donât want to ruin my dinner â
âYou wonâtâ
âI promiseâ
âWhy are you âŠ.â
âYes!â
âYou are right! Iâll have oneâ
âCorrect! Sit down at your dinner tableâ
âOk! Canât wait â
âActually on the couchâ
âEat as much as you want â
âI shouldnât but heckâ
âThese smell so lovely â
âYou are a confectionery geniusâ
âHaving a moment hereâ
âSorry! You should open a bakeryâ
âOne day! God willing but for now eat it upâ
I watch him dig into one cup cake like a tiny delicate treat tasting it like it is the most all inspiring and chef approved marvel of a cup cake on a level never seen before as his eyes are all a glow taking them in one by one of course. I left him to his station on the couch lost in a sea of sweats and love entering the kitchen I begin to look for a wine glass, uncork the champagne taking a sip as he munches on completely ignoring everything around him.
âAre you alone tonight or will we have company?â
âJust us budâ
âPerfect! Why donât you finish the last one â
âWith pleasureâ
âI feel weirdâ
âHow so?..â
âLight! Dumb! Drunk!â
âCan you tell me who you are?â
âChris Lyle! Right? I thinkâ
âYou got it! Do you know where you are?â
âFUCK No! Who cares?â
âDo me a favor?â
âWhy are you wearing a suit?â
âDude! Hell no!â
âYou are a bro manâ
âI am about to go change â
âYeah! Do thatâ
âMwahahahahaha! As plannedâ
I knew it would take him at least a hour to change because he no longer can focus on anything in particular except for all of me itâs my secret ingredient simply put and you will love it really itâs my bodily fluids mixed in with my scent. While he trudges away his cellphone begins to ring alerting me to a text I receive, I reply back to not come home tonight because I need some time for myselfback and I get a smile a emoji form all of his kids like itâs the latest fad all do sudden any way I am getting side tracked.
The plane is halfway completed as I grab my got to bag placing it on the table slide the zipper down the side pocket to retrieve my phone, I swiftly connect to my cell to his speakers shifting through my playlist in my music app and I land on hypnotic tunes as I press play and raise the volume. It is a list specifically attune to my chemical make up so only someone who is connected to me will be affected, upstairs the minute the first track hit his ears the lights went out in his eyes and he began to undress and I take over the kitchen rummaging through his fridge I begin to prepare meal mixing spice made with my bodily fluids.
âMmmmm! What is that delightful aroma?â
âItâs my spices I createdâ
âThey are heavenlyâ
âMay I help!â
âSure Chris! Dance across the floor â
âIâll slideâ
âSomeone is in a good moodâ
âNever felt more alive â
âYou are a great cookâ
âOk bro! Taste this for meâ
âOh Lord!â
âWhat? No good!â
âYou have to sell this â
âSeriously! I think this is made with love â
âBlood sweat and tearsâ
âLiterally!â
âWhy do I feel attracted to you ?â
âYou are straight right?.â
âI thought soâ
âKiss meâ
âMmmm! Oh fuck that! I love you Master!â
The end
#chris evans#hypnosis#mind control#reprogramming#hypno slave#hypno submission#mind control slaves#hypno love#cooking#chef#chefs kiss#Chefs Harem
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MAXX! :))) hope you are well.
for the emoji fanfic ask game ;)
đđ¶đąâđ€Čâ
Sorry for so many haha, you don't need to answer them all, but I'm very curious!
Hiii thank you for the abundant ask<3
đ Tell me about an up and coming wip please!
This might not be a particularly interesting answer but the only thing that Iâve really been trying to work on has been the structure and pacing of the next few chapters of orpheus, since I have them all mostly written but canât get to a place where Iâm really happy with them. I might be overthinking it. Unfortunately I also just havenât had the time + energy to sit myself down and really figure it out. :( Ergo all the snippets, which is the only way I can get something out at least.
In slightly better news: I kind of have the next two installments in the I clawed my way into the light series finished?? Sam and Steve and their collective and individual issues are finally getting their moment in the strange, poetry-question-mark spotlight!
However Iâve got some intense life stuff coming up so it might be a month or so until I post any of the aforementioned in full đ
đ¶ Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?
I usually do, and I have unhealthily elaborate playlists for all the characters + some fic-specific ones, but recently Iâve found listening to anything with distinct words in it messes with my concentration. But in terms of whatâs being playing on loop: Dorma and to a lesser extent Marionette by Keaton Henson (all of his instrumentals are *chefs kiss* but in general Iâve just been having a Keaton renaissance when it comes to stevebucky. Welcome back 2016 I guess)
â What's a trope you will never write?
Iâm a ânever say neverâ kind of person, but⊠Hydra Trash Party. Which, I know, is ironic considering one of the very few fics I have up right now features Steve/Rumlow, but that one while still meant to be kinda fucked up is very much purposefully neither here nor there (and non-explicit). I just personally donât enjoy reading HTP and itâd probably mess me up way more than Iâd like to try and write. ÂŻ\_(ă)_/ÂŻÂ
â
What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?
Answered this guy here!
đ€Č Would you please share a snippet of a wip?
This isâŠnot even a snippet, tbh, but also I donât know when Iâll actually have the time to rework/finish this, so. Just for you, a very long Natasha-focused (plus) wip half-scene under the cut:
âMost other animals only smile when they mean to attack. Did you know that? You should never hold your hand out to a dog whose gums you can see,â Ivanâd said, dabbing at the bloody bite on her chin with a towel that smelled like a distillery, impish twist to his thick mustache. âOr a man who smiles too much, for that matter.â
Natasha only saw the dog once after that. A month later Ivan hadnât come back to the house for a week and she went out looking the next day, winding her way out of the dead-end street and all the way up Nevsky Prospekt, looping past the crowds gathering water out of shelling holes and the hospital that was now blackened by fresh, smoldering ruins. She walked until the light on the horizon had grown tired and purple, until her legs had almost given out and she had to sit down on the icy pavement. The body of a frail old man lay face down on the ground by the side of the road across from her, his cap thrown back a few meters away and the bald top of his head unnaturally caved in, matching the bruised coloring of the sunset.
It took her a long moment to notice the dog, its bent form and the crumpled body forming a singular silhouette.
The memory is transmuted, stretched thin and faded in places â from time, for a change, she thinks, instead of just manipulation. But she still remembers her hand closed around a solid weight in her pocket, a comfort against the deafening pounding of her heart. She remembers the dog with its lifted head, its snout soaked red and sickly gums anything but bloodless for the first time. Remembers that split second of hurling the brick at it with all the might her thin body could manage.
It wasnât a thought-out act or even self-preservation, really. The dog had been far away and otherwise preoccupied. It wouldnât have bothered her. The reasoning was bone-deep and nauseating: she hadnât eaten in two days, the only person who had cared for her was gone, and the sight of the blood had made her stomach growl. That brick was her only defense against a world tilted entirely off its axis.
It was a while before she fully understood what Ivan had meant by that joking addendum to an otherwise plain instruction, too cryptic for her mind to decipher at that age. It took one too many broken bones and one too many greedy hands on her body and one too many lifetimes lived unwillingly for it to fully translate.
Now, looking at Rumlow grinning that familiar killer smile and thinking heâs hit gold, itâs crystal fucking clear.
It isnât new, really. Sheâs met many men like him, often enough that the novelty of exposing them has worn off: ordinary men, utterly predictable in their enjoyment of violence and small in the way of not being able to shape their fear into something more useful. Men who thought their want for power made them anything other than a soft target. Men who thought that, when the time came, they'd be above begging for their life.
It gets boring, after a while, how quickly they all learn. She should know. Itâs what gave her her name, back before she decided to hang up that particular title, trade it in for an upgraded version, a cleaner image. Black Widow, Avenger! has a far better ring to it than Black Widow, assassin.
Just because you stop calling a thing something doesnât mean it stops being it, of course. It might forget, for a while, become domesticated; but the nature is still there.
The children of the Red Room all understood that from the time they could walk. The Soldier understood that, or at least well enough that they had to keep burning it out of him.
âShit. Is that what this is, then? Really?" Rumlow is saying, still derisive through cracked teeth, still playing a game he thinks he knows the rules to. "You got yourself a spot on the five oâclock news under Captain fucking America and suddenly you think that makes you the guy with the bigger stick? That that changes fuck all for you?â
âOh, no. Believe you me, I tried being that guy. It didnât end well for me. Or anyone else, really.â She inches the chair forward, the scrape of the metal loud in the empty apartment, and makes her voice drop to a conspiratorial tone. âBut you wanna know what I realized? There are always going to be little men with big sticks, and most of us will never get to be them. And it turns out it doesnât matter all that much in the end.â
âBig or little, every stick has its breaking point. Every weapon has its expiration date. You live through a regime or two, and you start to catch onto that real quick.â She cocks her head at him with a pensive expression, fingers running absent over that same old thin line under her chin by habit.
In retrospect, the dog she came to understand much quicker than the advice. Natasha had been hungry and afraid most of her life, too.
Itâs not the only scar she has by far, but it carries the most straightforward memory. For years it served as a reminder, as banal as it was, of what trust was worth; of what you could do when you got your grubby little hands on it.
âI suppose they wouldn't teach you this since the shelf life of your usefulness was never meant to be all that long, but let me tell you a secret, Brock,â she continues, flipping the knife back the right way around and leaning in. Sunny side up, Yelena used to call it, wry. Drive it in far back enough, right past the optic nerve, and everything spills right out. She doesnât miss the way Rumlowâs eyes track the motion, the whites showing just enough; the first crack in the facade. "You don't beat the guy with a big stick by getting a bigger one. You do it by making him think he's got you under his boot, you understand? That heâs got you all figured out. You beat him by making your spine less breakable than the stick.â
Hereâs the other thing about trust: if you keep yourself in the business of lying to earn it, thatâs all people start to expect from you. Your loyalty is immediately suspect. So is your anger. You keep yourself leashed for long enough, everything becomes a dishonest front, even to yourself.
Like anything else in life, it becomes a habit. A very useful, easy one, at that. Or at least until one day you wake up and you realize that the parts of you you were working to protect are dying out; withering. Theyâre forgetting their own name.
The attempt at a headbutt is predictable at best. She backhands him for it, follows up with the handle of the knife on the second strike for good measure.
âNow that wasnât very smart, was it?â She says, admonishing. âAnd to think we were getting somewhere.â
âWas that sermon meant to get me to talk?â Rumlow manages after a heaving moment. Thereâs a long gash down his cheek thatâs deepened, bleeding steadily onto his front. It paints less than a pretty picture with the swelling thatâs already pinkening up, bringing the angry criss-cross of scarring over the rest of his pale face into sharp relief, but it feels strangely at home. Not that artistic visionâs ever been her strong suit. âBecause if you think getting smacked around some really counts for anything other than good foreplay, youâve really lost your touch.â He looks back up to grin at her, a useless show of fearlessness. âHell, ask Rogers. Iâm sure thatâll be an interesting conversation.â
But fuck, itâs hard work, breaking a habit. Even harder work: honesty. Graceless and inarticulate and inefficient, like the feeling boiling back up in her now as she looks at Rumlow, the bloody flash of his canines in the dark, and thinks of that paralyzing feeling on the wrong side of an OR window, the shameful horror of letting the world be spun on its axis and pulled from under her again. Thinks of Rogers with his broad shoulders curling in and in and in, the whole of him turned inside out in a deserted parking lot. Trust given and earned.
The next blow has Rumlow spitting teeth.
"Nah. Just thinking out loud." The knife stops half an inch under his eye, makes a home in the oasis of bruised yet unmarred skin.
Rumlow doesnât flinch. For all of his talk, he still knows better. But she can see how his whole body freezes up, an uninterrupted taut line; the exact moment it registers for him, just how much of the picture heâs missing.
Volchonok, Ivan had called her for a while, in those early days. Itâd never stuck like Black Widow did, never had the same marketing potential, but itâd never really stopped applying, either. Hungry and afraid and alone and willing to kill for the things that made her less so.
The name mightâve changed, the circumstances. The nature didnât.
Natasha smiles; too many teeth, bloodless. "How much can your spine handle, do you think?"
Itâs all too easy, in the end, to let the leash go.
(Iâm sorry??)
#asks#ask game#vostok3 ka#thank youuuu<3 this was very very fun! sorry it took a second like I said life is picking up#my fic#snippet#natasha romanoff#brock rumlow
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Hi, Annie! Hope you're doing okay after last night episode đą I just wanted to tell you that recently I've been literally âšobsessedâš with the OMS playlist, the "Hailey" part is really chef's kiss, I can't wait to listen to all the other songs Jay is gonna write about her â€ïž And on that note, maybe you could share some emojis about the next chapter? đ Thank you so much for continuing to write about them, it's one of the things that keeps me going (even if I stopped watching PD at the end of last season, I still enjoy reading ff about them) đ„°
Hey anon. I'm managing - still super sad but I'm trying. Hope you're doing well too. Thank you so much for your message about oms. It is definitely appreciated right now - the motivation to right is pretty scares with all the sadness in the fandom so this really does help. I love that you love the playlist - I've gone through soooooo many songs to find the right ones, so it warms my heart that you enjoy the songs too. Thank you for reading the fic. oms has brought me so much joy this season, and I'm really excited for you to see the rest of the fic. For now, here are those emojis. See you Sunday!
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Unhinged About the Jonas Brothers
From the compilation album thing I did. So I will include every song that is relevant.
Everything I excluded from the blog post. Not all horny. Mostly just impulsive thoughts no one else cares about.
Cut so it doesn't kill your dash.
"Inseperable" by Jonas Brothers from Jonas Brothers, 2007
I still have a delusional belief that if Joe ever got to know me, he would fall in love with me. But I doubt he'd ever get to know me. So we'll never know.
"Sorry" by Jonas Brothers from A Little Bit Longer, 2008
GOD-FUCKING-DAMNIT, NICHOLAS! Man has always been talented as fuck as soon as he was able to sing and he never ceases to amaze me.
"Burnin' Up" by Jonas Brothers from A Little Bit Longer, 2008
These nerds from New Jersey put their whole pussies into this fucking song. Let's not forget that Joe is my sexual awakening with that whine in his voice in the opening verse - plus the white pants in the music video. đ©
"Pushin' Me Away" by Jonas Brothers from A Little Bit Longer, 2008
This song can also be linked to my sexual awakening probably. Joe Jonas' vocals have done a lot for me. Sexually.
"Love is On It's Way" by Jonas Brothers from Music from the 3D Concert Experience, 2008
It is the song equivalent of the đ„° emoji.
"I'm Gonna Getcha Good" by Jonas Brothers from Music from the 3D Concert Experience, 2008
JOE'S VOCALS ARE SO FUCKING GOOD FOR NO REASON! Like fuck it UP, Joseph. We stan.
"Live to Party" by Jonas Brothers, 2009
RELEASE "LOVESICK" AND "SCANDANAVIA" YOU COWARDS!
"Play My Music" by Connect 3 from Camp Rock, 2008
I have issues with the retcon of making Jason and Nate brothers to Shane in Camp Rock 2: The Final Jam. Because they were not brothers in the first movie. Nate says "your Uncle Brown" to Shane. Also Jason says, "Camp Rock is where Connect 3 connected". I will never get over that, but I do love and support the Gray brothers regardless.
"Make It Right" by Jonas Brothers from Jonas L.A. (Music from the TV Series), 2010
It's the kind of song that could inspire a one-shot if Joe had any good characters for me to write about that aren't forever teenagers. It is on the Joe fic playlist, though.
"Heart and Soul" by Connect 3 from Camp Rock 2: The Final Jam, 2010
Camp Rock 2: The Final Jam gave us the ICON that is single dad, Jason Gray. Gave us lovesick Nate who blessed us with "Introducing Me". Sequel Shane is SUPERIOR to Camp Rock Shane. And that is the hill I will die on.
"Only Human" by Jonas Brothers from Happiness Begins, 2019
I am obsessed with them. Would risk it all for these losers (affectionate) from Jersey. Joe and Nick's vocals are *chef's kiss*
"Happy When I'm Sad" by Jonas Brothers from Happiness Begins, 2019
Trying not to just scream about Joe's vocals, but they're great.
"What a Man Gotta Do" by Jonas Brothers, 2020
I would like to dedicate this song to Joe. Like what a man gotta do to be totally locked up by you? I am genuinely asking. Please tell me and I'll do it, Joseph. Do you think if I sent Joe a Valentine's Day card with the lyrics from this song, he'd respond? Maybe that'll be how I shoot my shot with him.
"Mercy" by Jonas Brothers from Space Jam: A New Legacy (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack), 2021
Nick has a tattoo on his arm that says "Mercy" but he got it years before this song. But it's a fun little correlation.
"Selfish" by Nick Jonas, Jonas Brothers from Spaceman (Deluxe), 2021
Nick put his whole pussy into this album. And this song is so fucking good and it deserves all my love and affection. Which it has.
"Do It Like That (Pop R&B Remix)" by TOMORROW X TOGETHER, Jonas Brothers, 2023
It is the only song from a K-pop boyband that I will allow. There's so much regarding me and K-pop boybands. I am the perfect demographic for them so if I allow myself to fall into that hole, I will NEVER resurface so I just avoid ALL K-pop boybands at all costs. BUT I'LL BE HONEST, I was TEMPTED to listen to TOMORROW X TOGETHER because of this fucking song. ALSO the way Joe looks in the music video. The man makes me UNWELL!
"Miracle" by Jonas Brothers from The Album, 2023
JOE'S VOCALS! JOE'S VOCALS! JOE'S VOCALS! JOE'S VOCALS! JOE'S VOCALS! That's it. That's why it's on the list. Also Nick's vocals. But Nick's vocals sit backseat to Joe's here. LIKE THE MAN DELIVERED!
"Strong Enough (feat. Bailey Zimmerman)" by Jonas Brothers, 2023
JOE'S VOCALS! JOE'S VOCALS! JOE'S VOCALS! The man makes me [REDACTED] with his voice. JOSEPH PUT HIS WHOLE PUSSY INTO THOSE VOCALS! đ©
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lmao tfw you bring a lemon to a knife fight
#also follow me on spotify#@violetskys#my playlists are the chef kiss emoji#mwah !#âand i love ya babyâ if youre feeling a little emo#ârawr xdâ if youre feeing really emo#<3#Spotify
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MINI-CELEBRATION FOR 500 FOLLOWERS
[NAVIGATION]
STATUS: CLOSED. Thank you to everyone who participated! All interactions are under the tag #vesuviaâs 500 followers beach party. I love you all!!!
writing this at 495 followers because iâm hyped af <3
ANYWAY, iâll take you guys following me as a sign that you all think iâm cool đ so thank you!!! iâm at half a thousand omfg i love u all thank you for reading my stories and being fun people to be around with. i enjoy interacting with each and everyone of u and it makes my heart swell (in love, not cholesterol buildup) :â))
July 2, 2021 05:50 to July 9, 2021 11:59
A C T I V I T I E S
đ munch a bunch » ask me anything.
âïž under the heat » send me something to cast my mutuals as. (you may take inspo from my fandom list here.)
đ over the net » iâll tell you a random story from my life. (bonus points if you tell one of yours.)
đ shell collector » send me this emoji and iâll show you some cool/random object that i own.
đ dance with the waves » just send me 2-4 facts about u + ur gender + angsty or fluffy + a character and iâll give u a song from my playlist thatâll serve as your theme song with them! || AVAILABLE FANDOMS: Harry Potter (Marauders and Golden Trio), The Lunar Chronicles, The Maze Runner, and Stranger Things
â± shelter shade » tell me your first impression of me and iâll tell you my first impression of you! (moots only!)
tagging my beloved moots under the cut and writing them a little something! <3 this is a long list so im sorry omg i probably should have made a separate moot appreciation post but i didnât expect it to be this long and iâm too lazy hshshs anyway thank u!!!
@mauvea, thanks for interacting. jk thatâs not all ilysm!!! youâre hella fun to talk to and i enjoy âšinteractingâš with you mwah <3 PAULA HNGGGG dobby simps unite
@selenesheart, i still havenât forgotten you scripting draco to call you spanish pet names đâđ» iâm sorry nsndjww aside from that, ily! u cool af like- hnggg
@elevatorsdoor, DANIELAAA!!! no i still have not forgiven you for bombing my ships but youâre an effective person to be with in the diner so ig youâre alright đ jk ily mwahhh
@railmeharrypotter, your url alone is *chefâs kiss* and omfg i love simping over harry w u hehe more simping days to come <3 iloveu sm omg youâre chaotic too and i love that (even tho u do me so dirty in cyms)
@lovegoodsgf, bestie youâre one of my first moots here i still remember the tongue twister days iykyk skskdnx i love you and your headcanons oml
@just-another-multifangirl, EMMA JAM EMMA JAM BABYYYY youâre literally so sweet??? and fun??? what a perfect combo ilysm my beloved chaotic, chaotic bestie!!!
@holden-caulfield, lia jfc i havenât been reading a lot of fanfics lately but your works are literally so immaculate and perfect and immaculate and have i said perfect? iâm in love with your writing ilysm youâre like an older sister to me ily mwah <3 adding emojis for spice: đ€Șđđ„”
@mendesxruel, one o my first moots!!! youâre like an older sister but also a baby sister at the same time??? like i want to protect u but i want u to protect me too hSHSHS i love talking to u sm oml
@gothboutique, your url is so pretty like??? and youâre like one of the cool kidsâąïž no actually you are hAHSBSA your posts are chaotically pleasing and thatâs a fact. ily holly!!! :*
@romqnticizer, iâm low key scared of u sometimes because u have this intimidating aura but omfg when we talk youâre literally so cool and chill aaaaa đčđčđč <this is the trademark of our friendship
@prettygirlkay, AYYYEEEE ITâS MY ANGST BESTIE AHAHAHAHA pls youâre so relatable and your writing is so pretty??? like??? i love u hnggg
@meiitanoia, youâre the sweetest person ever. there, i said it. you hype me up so good omg and youâre a literal sunshine ily <3
@shadesofvelma, i stand by vel&ves supremacy. weâre only either a comedy show because weâre a joke or a dramatic soap opera becauseâŠwell, drama. jokes aside you give off cool kid energy iâm so honored to have u as a moot oml mwah bestie love u
@oeuryale, yep yep yep never forget cotton eye joe. maâam youâre a ray of sunshine đ€§ ilysm and i enjoy interacting w u A LOT.
@eunoniaa, another famous moot what??27282 NIA you wholesome but also chaotic being ily!!! pls iâm still low key intimidated tho hHAHAAH
@hellounicorn, rhea rhea rhEAA A ANDID i honestly donât know what to say except that every interaction with you is so eventful hHAHAHA youâre funny af and creative ;*
@gwlvr, iâd be lying if i said i donât wait for your reblogs hHAHAHAHA omfg i feel so loved and appreciated whenever you quote my works!!! literally the best omfg thank you sm and iloveu mwah đ
@slut4drvc0, babi omg we donât talk much but ily hngggg *convulses* youâre so pretty omg and hella fun to talk to!!!
@starless-starkov, ah yes, my fellow cool person who also likes to change icons. but thatâs ok, weâre both icons ;pp your name is so cute and pretty btw mwah love u
@potters-heart, well hello fellow harry simp. mad respect to you hAHHAAHHA i feel comfortable talking to u ily
@ronsmommy, jade we donât interact much but i feel honored youâre a moot- YOUâRE FAMOUS HNGTJEIOWW anyway omg ily you talented af
@untowardflower, hello mum. SHSJEJW mara i look up to u oml i love u sm youâre such a spirit animal aaaaa ily
thereâs literally so much more i want to say but canât because this is gonna be a very, very long ass post. next time imma make a separate post for this mbad thatâs on me and i canât tag any more of u all :<
more moots i literally love with all my heart and i think deserve the world: @gxtitobxby @arcaneslut @mrzweasley @just2bubbly @gingerale2017 @illiicitarts @mellifluousart @omgrachwrites @amourtentiaa @roonilwazlibweasley @hey-there-angels @annemagus @babydraco04 @dracomalfoys-wh0re @ronsbadidea @ronsonlywhore @mais-e @cupids-crystals @damianxmeg @miss-casually-cruel @mistress-riddle @angeloniaa @alice1nwoderland @toms-diary @messrsmoonee @artxemqs @harmqnia @destourtereaux + LITERALLY EVERYONE AAAA ILY ALL MWAH MWAH
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5 Times You Posted about Him, and One Time He Posted about You | Chris Kreider
I sent an anon to @kreiderriderâ way back at the end of April for Chrisâ birthday and still havenât stopped thinking about it, so apparently Iâm writing it now. also for @bobohtuzzoâ for our never-ending loop of being mean to each other with Chris gifs.
TL;DR: this is Taylorâs fault for making me a Kreider girl, and and both hers Bayanâs fault for encouraging and enabling me.
length: 2.8k words
You knew when you started dating Chris that he was not social mediaâs biggest fan. And that was fine. You were hardly an influencer yourself, and you were pretty sure you followed more dogs than people on Instagram. So the pictures you took of Chrisâ Chris being cute, Chris doing mundane things, Chris with his bitchface onâ stayed firmly in a locked album on your phone.
Until one day when you were sitting on the couch, leaning against Chris while he read a book, flipping through Instagram stories on your phone. One of your friends from high school had posted a cute picture with her boyfriend, and you paused to look at it. Chris rested his chin on your shoulder to peer at your phone.Â
âTheyâre cute,â he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to your shoulder. You hummed in agreement. âHow come you never post about me?â
You twisted around to look at him. âFirst of all, how do you even know that I donât? Second of all, you want nothing to do with any sort of social media.âÂ
Chris flicked your nose. âMika tells me things. And I donât hate social media, I just donât really get the point of it. Who the fuck cares what Iâm doing every second of the day, who I got lunch with, where I got lunch? Anyway, I donât really mind if you post about me every once in a while. I donât want you to feel like you have to hide our relationship just because I avoid Instagram like the plague.â Chris pressed a kiss to your forehead to punctuate his sentence.Â
You settled back in against Chris, resuming your mindless scrolling, and looking forward to the first opportunity to show off your boyfriend.Â
Chef Chris Chris loved to cook. Part of it came from his absolutely ridiculous diet, you knew, but he also enjoyed the quiet time that cooking gave him, a way to be productive without requiring a ton of energy. The kitchens in either of your apartments were often filled with the smell of something good, for lunches, for dinners on nights off, for a quick meal after a game. Chris rarely let you help him with anything, which was fine because you preferred to bake, and it let you watch him.Â
There was something about watching Chris cook that you just adored. He would always end up so focused, a strange intensity in his eyes that resembled the look he sometimes got on the ice. But then you would say somethingâ a stupid joke that youâd seen on the internet, a funny story from work, or a something ridiculous your dog had done that morningâ and he would laugh, his eyes lighting up again, and his dimples showing.Â
Tonight, Chris was standing over the stove making a risotto. You had begged him for it during a rare full weekend off at home for the Rangers, and he had finally conceded. One of your playlists was playing softly in the living room, and you were perched on a barstool at the island, your dog curled beneath your feet. You werenât sure if he wanted to be close to you, or if he was just waiting for Chris to give him a piece of chicken.Â
Chris was stirring the risotto intently, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth a little bit. You were already scrolling through your phone, so you couldnât resist snapping a quick picture for your Instagram story, simply throwing an emoji of a chef in the corner.
You were checking the views on your story later that night and responding to the few people that had replied to it, when Chris saw your phone screen.Â
âHang on, gimme that,â he said, pausing the hockey game he was watching. âHow did I not notice you take this?â He looked closer at your phone. âAnd how many fucking followers do you have, holy shit.â
You took your phone back, seeing that Brett Howden had asked why he didnât get any dinner. âI got a bunch more after I started dating you,â you said. Chris looked concerned. âDonât make that face, you dork. I donât really care, and if I did, I could just make my account private.âÂ
Chris still looked a little alarmed at the number of people who had seen him cook dinner, but he turned back to the hockey game, anyway.Â
Sing Us a Song There was a piano in Chrisâ apartment. It was tucked away in the spare bedroom, and he avoided playing it when people were over, even when it was just the two of you. You had lamented that fact once, and Chris had said something about just wanting to spend all his time focused on you. You let it go, but that didnât mean you werenât dying to hear him play, especially since everyone who had could only compliment him.
It was nearly Christmas when you let yourself into Chrisâ apartment with your spare key. The two of you had spent an entire weekend decorating, and the space was absolutely filled with Christmas spirit. You had been baking cookies, and you were dropping some off for Chris to bring home to Massachusetts and his family. You smiled as you heard the familiar chords of âCelebrate Me Homeâ echoing through the apartment. Your penchant for listening to Christmas music at all hours was beginning to rub off on Chris finally. You paused, though, when you realized that the voice drifting through the apartment was not Kenny Loggins, but Chris.Â
You set the cookies and your purse down gently on a counter, kicking off your snow boots and quietly making your way through the apartment. You peered around the doorway of the spare bedroom. Chrisâ back was to you, since the piano faced the windows looking out over the city, as he continued singing. You slipped your phone out of your coat pocket and began recording. You made sure to keep quiet as Chris began playing âThe Christmas Song.â You stayed there for a minute longer before putting your phone away and walking into the room.
Chris jumped a little as you put your hand on his shoulder. âYour hands are freezing, Christ, Y/N. How long have you been here?â
You kissed his temple. âSorry. Just came to drop off cookies and couldnât resist listening to you for a while. I wish youâd sing for me more often.â Chris blushed all the way up to his ears.Â
Later that night, back home and with a pie in the oven this time, you edited the videos you took a little bit and put them up on your Instagram story. You left it captionless.
Your DMs were soon filled with people commenting on how talented Chris was and begging for more videos of him. You screenshotted them allâ maybe a little smuglyâ and sent them to Chris. All you got back was an emoji sticking its tongue out at you.Â
Somewhere on a Beach There was absolutely nothing that you loved more than a good vacation. As the Rangersâ bye week approached, Chris was getting desperate to get out of the city, and you were looking forward to a week on a beach.
The Rangers won their last game before the break, and then the two of you were on a plane to Hawaii for some valuable time in the sun. Chris had found a rental with a private stretch of beach, and you both had bags full of books to read.
âChris, you need to put on sunscreen!â you yelled as he walked across the sand, sunglasses perched on his nose and book in hand, on the first day. He had complained but let you cover him in sunscreen; he got burnt anyway.Â
Mika made a crispy potato joke later that night in response to Chrisâ whiny text.Â
You got a couple good Instagram posts out of the vacation. One was simply pictures of you that you had made Chris takeâ âlike a good Instagram boyfriend, babeâ â plus a couple well-executed timer shots of both of you on the beach: sandy toes, sunburnt nose. The other was a small collection of photos you took of Chris throughout the week, in various positions in various chairs, all with a different book. Your favorite was the time you had caught him asleep on the beach, book still clutched precariously in his hand, mouth hanging open as he burned in the sun. I will never understand how he can read a book a day and still never run out of books, you had typed as a caption.Â
Dog Lover Chris was sick. You were sure he had been fighting through shit for nearly two weeks but had been too stubborn to admit it, and he had finally hit a wall. You had caught him leaning heavily against the bathroom sink that morning, dizzy and nauseous, as he attempted to get ready for practice; it still took both you and Mika yelling at him, with more than one threat to call Quinn and/or his mother, before he agreed to stay home.Â
You had forced him to at least eat a piece of toast before you let him collapse on the couch under most of the blankets you had in your apartment. You sent Mika a picture of Chris in his fever haze, zoned out while watching the morning news.Â
You luckily had the day off, so you were able to stay close to your idiot boyfriend with a penchant for ignoring injury and illness. It started storming after you ate lunch, rain lashing against the windows and lightning lighting up the dark New York sky, shrouded with clouds. Chris was still slouched on one end of the couch, barely having moved all morning. You were sitting at the other end with a book, his feet in your lap and thumb idly rubbing circles on his ankle, having ignored Chrisâ protests that you were going to get sick, too.Â
Later, when you were making dinner, you peeked into your living room to check on Chris. He had thrown most of his blankets onto the floor, and he was sprawled out on his stomach, solidly asleep. Your dog had crawled up onto the couch with him and was laying protectively over Chrisâ legs. You smiled at them before reaching for your phone to take a picture.Â
First you sent it to Mika: âSometimes I think heâs only dating me for my dog.â with an eye roll emoji. Mika laughed at that one.Â
Then you posted it on your Instagram, this time with the caption everyone knows dog cuddles are the best medicine. Your replies were flooded with get-well wishes for Chris.Â
Best Friends Everyone knew that Mika and Chris were pretty much inseparable, both on the ice and off of it. You and Irma had bonded over it one night, when what was supposed to be a nice double date devolved into Chris and Mika discussing the chances of various teams winning the Cup. It had only been November.Â
You teased the two about their codependency, but honestly it was endearing. Mika ended up over for dinner more nights than not, and you texted him more than you texted your mom. Mika sometimes crashed movie nights at Chrisâ apartment, and all three of you ended up in a tangled mess of limbs and blankets before the end of the night without fail. It was completely undeniable that Chris loved Mika, so it was inevitable that you loved Mika, too.Â
The Rangers were having another outdoor practice in Central Park. You loved going to any practice, but the outdoor ones were especially fun to watch. It always seemed like half of New York showed up to watch, and the boys were always more energetic and idiotic than usual.
You hung around close to the boards behind one of the goals during practice. You got some good pictures of the boys warming up, including one particularly cute one of Artemi sticking his tongue out at you. As practice went on, you took more pictures as various Rangers sped past you. The best opportunity was when Chris scored a â frankly ridiculous, honestly â goal over Hankâs shoulder, set up perfectly by Mika. They slammed into the boards next to you in celebration, and you managed to snap a great angle of that smile Mika seemed to reserve specifically for Chris.
All of the WAGs and families were allowed onto the ice after practice ended. You carefully made your way over towards where Chris and Mika were lazily leaning against the boards near one of the benches, nearly running over tripping over Igorâs dog in the process when he ran in front of you, gleefully dragging a leash behind him.Â
Chris was facing you, but he didnât see you approach. You, however, could see the dorky grin he had aimed at Mika from where he was slouching against the wall. As you got closer, you took out your phone and snuck one more picture of the two of them.
You couldnât resist posting those pictures of your boys. You made sure to tag Mika, adding on the caption someone tell me how I can get a boy to look at me the way Chris and Mika look at each other.Â
Mika replied with an eye roll emoji and a blue heart. Irma replied with about five cry-laughing emojis. Chris just looked offended.Â
His Turn Chris had managed to convince you to join him for a week in Connecticut, and you had managed to convince him to let you drive up. He grumbled about it all the way out of the city.Â
You had your sunglasses on and your hair was loose around your shoulders. Chrisâ phone was plugged into your aux, but he had turned on your own road trip playlist. (He complained about your taste in music most of the drive, too.) As you got closer to Connecticut, Chris rolled the windows down. Every once in a while, you glanced over at him, only to already find him watching you with a smile on his face, eyes crinkly and dimple showing.Â
You were singing the words to a Taylor Swift song at the top of your lungs, laughing as the wind ripped the words from your throat and out the window, when Chris reached over and picked up your phone. You turned to look at him.
âEyes on the road,â he scolded, still holding your now-unlocked phone. You raised an eyebrow but turned back to the highway in front of you.Â
The song changed again, this time to a Queen song, and you laughed again. Chris started singing along with you, and you forgot that he had been taking a picture of you.Â
Later that night, long after the sun set, you got a notification that you had been tagged in a new Instagram post, by @2kreids0. You squinted at your phone screen, confused. You were sitting out on the porch under the stars, and Chris had gone in for dessert (something still stupidly healthyâ âItâs the offseason, Kreider!â you had protested) only a couple minutes before.
Still frowning a little, you tapped on the notification. A picture of yourself, with the sun in your face and hair blowing out the window, laughing, eyes bright underneath your sunglasses, filled your screen. It could only have been taken by Chris in your car earlier. You looked at the Instagram handle again.
âHey, babe?â you called as Chris stepped back outside, trying to balance two bowls and two glasses of wine. He looked up at you. âDid you make an Instagram?â Chris blushed. You looked back at the picture, this time reading the caption below it: Iâll drive anywhere with you, just to hear you sing your favorite songs.Â
Chris had moved to stand next to you, still blushing to the tips of his ears. âI might have.â You laughed, taking your glass of wine from Chrisâ hand and pulling him down for a kiss.Â
âI thought you didnât see the point?â you asked.
Chris shrugged. âI didnât. Then you started posting pictures of me all the time, and I started to understand why people share the things they love for everyone to see.âÂ
âYouâre a sap, Kreider,â you said, all fondness. You smiled at him from behind the rim of your wine glass as he took another picture of you. âIs this what Iâm like?â you asked. Chris let out a surprised laugh.Â
The next morning you were tagged again by Chris. You rolled your eyes. When you opened the notification, you saw the picture from the night before, but there was also a second one, one you didnât know Chris had taken. It was of you, of course, but you were glaring at something on your phone over your coffee mug, glasses on and hair a mess. This time he had captioned it get you a girl who can do both.Â
âChristopher!â You were already beginning to regret showing him exactly how to work Instagram the night before. As you heard Chris laughing his way down the stairs, though, you thought that you could really get used to it, even if Chris probably had some revenge posts in store for you.Â
#cait writes things#chris kreider#chris kreider fic#chris kreider imagine#nhl fic#nhl imagine#hockey fic
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Chđya brainrot is real they're so hot together like perma freeze also? Also!! If chđya not canon why hydro and cryo artifacts same domain hmm?????? HM???
Modern!AU is pretty broad so I'll do like a general thing uwu
Lmao Kaeya's the type that's always on his phone but never replies to messages or answer his calls?
Like he'll reply a select few people but if you don't fall under it he won't
Bold face lies too he'll tell you his phone died while he's texting someone back to your face tf
Childe's phone is either always busted p badly or its a brand new one
It's cuz he's always be fighting and he rich rich
Y'all have a group chat like since y'all together uwu
Y'all never really have like personal convos either HAHAH it's always in the gc
Unless y'all planning surprises for each other
Kaeya is meme king, knows all memes even real obscure ones sends them to the gc all the time
Childe's the type to like take a selfie while he's away from y'all "a selfie just for you [kissy face emoji]"
You also get texts from him randomly "I'm gonna fight this person"
Kaeya's usually a step ahead HAHAH "no"
No context and then you'll get Childe's text ":("
Really cute!!!!!!! I think he video chats w his family almost everyday if not weekly? And if y'all around he'd tell y'all to join
I think Kaeya's super fashionable? Like his style immaculate [chef's kiss]
Childe's only fashionable cuz he's rich
Also the amount of Kaeya's piercings depends on how punk he is in the modern au uwu
But all modern AUs he has at least 1 nipple piercing and you cannot convince me otherwise
They're also both involved in shady shit like most modern AUs they're shady asf
You love them tho cuz they do be the best uwu
I think Kaeya has a lot of followers on social media because he's so fucking pretty
But he only post thirst traps because he's sexy and he knows it
His main account is a meme page
None of his friends excepted otherwise
Childe doesn't really so social media? Prolly cuz of his shady shit
This doesn't apply to all the modern AU tho just some uwu but like in general
Childe's like dirt rich like eat the rich rich so expect him to bring you to like real fancy dates and get really expensive gifts
I like to think he's a sugar daddy
Sugar daddy AU đ©
Kaeya's different like if you go out he gets free drinks a lot? Cuz he's so sexy
And he'd be like thanks!!! This my partner btw AFTER they buy him drinks
Cuz he's a lil shit
They both love taking pictures of you? If not selfies w the 3 of you?
They're just the type to flaunt their relationship uwu
They prolly have like a Spotify playlist filled w songs that remind them of you. Cuz they're cute like that
#Y'all i stayed up to finish the archon quest??#And I'm hysterical rn#Like wtf#Also the fight in golden house?#Hot#Did kaeya tank childe like a champ? Yes#Very seggsy#I've never been more attracted to Kaeya AND Childe#This 4* fugging bitch tanked 3 stages of childe w/o dying!!!!!!!!!!!!#I love 1 man out for murder and 1 man that can stop him tf#Childe#Childe x reader#kaeya#Kaeya x reader#tartaglia x reader#tartaglia#childe x reader x kaeya#shanna writes
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đŸ and to make it harder, it can't be from an AC related playlist<3
laaaaaame, now I can't do an infodump [pensive emoji] okie fine, let's see... Lionhearted - Billie Marten mostly, I just love her style, it's soft and has a yearning tone that just, *chefs kiss*, but also this is from my CĂĄrth and Robbie playlist, and it fits them both sm, they both feel like they aren't enough, and certainly not brave enough to face the shit they go through. And they both got a whole truckload of emotional baggage and trauma, and usually they don't share it with others, but they can with each other most of the time, and just.... soft..... ;v;
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đđ»âĄ to ask for a dance
send in one of the following emojis and my muse will react . accepting
They had been raiding all liquor stores of one of the buildings in Kabuki-cho for the better part of an hour; Melissa and Dyuuku had taken one of the cars from the Beach and returned to downtown to scrounge up some supplies for their respective activities back and the repurposed resort, focusing on the unknown little spots that most people wouldn't be familiar with in that area.
Between the two of them, they had a long list of tentative locations to visit and check - all the tiny places that only the residents frequented and which had better chances of having been untouched by other people in the Borderland. That day, Dyuuku had been following the former hostess along old bars and drinking joints she remembered seeing around - while also doing most of the heavy-lifting where the bottles were concerned and working as a bodyguard of sorts just in case something happened.
But it was a blessed afternoon - things were quiet. No one interrupted their hunt for alcohol and it was easier to forget the dangers of the world outside for a moment, particularly when Melissa found an old radio and dusted it off out of curiosity, fiddling with the buttons. Surprisingly enough - it turned on. Apparently it was powered by batteries, and old enough to work at the Borderland.
"Wow - do you think this can pick up something out there?" she asked the man, turning around to look at Dyuuku who was currently sitting behind the counter of the old bar they happened to be visiting. He was about to respond when some music came from the radio and it startled both of them - it was startlingly loud for the quiet setting they were in, and Melissa turned it down instinctively. A tense pause followed - both with ears and eyes wide open to try and capture any sound or movement from anyone else that could be around the building.
But no one came - they seemed to be really alone on that day. Releasing the air she had been holding in, the former hostess returned her attention back to the radio, and cautiously adjusted the volume. They hadn't dreamed it - the old thing was picking some dancing tunes, an old Beatles song even (a cover?). She laughed at the absurdity of it all - the fact that she was listening to sweet and innocent tunes like these in a land that was everything but.
"Would the lady grant me this dance?"
His voice had Melissa once more focusing on the chef - and the way he had his hand held out to her and a smile on her face got her mirroring his mischievous expression in a second. The woman left the area behind the counter to rejoin him, and couldn't hold back a burst of laughter when he raised his eyebrows at her and even bowed slightly.
"This lady would very much like to," she responded, giggling still by the time she took his hand - and was pleasantly surprised by how easily Dyuuku moved in sync with the music. Whoever was out there - they were going for a playlist of old dance songs and shuffled through some rockabilly classics, including the first covers by the Beatles that came on when they found the radio.
And well - apparently 'dancing' was also something to be added to the ever-growing list of the skills that Dyuuku possessed. She had never really seen him by the parties held at the pool area at the beach so Melissa had wrongly assumed he didn't care much for dancing - but apparently it just failed to be the right occasion (or type of music). He expertly led her, including some twists and turns when they were close, and then eventually pulled the ex-hostess up for a short, sweet kiss when one of the songs ended.
"I know we came for the booze but we really should bring this back with us - and batteries, if we find any at these abandoned kombini," he said, and Melissa nodded, an impressed smile coloring her lips while he gently helped her back to her feet and released his impromptu dance partner.
"Agree - no way you're not showing me what other moves you got after this surprise, Nakahara. Let's hope our mysterious broadcaster has a good playlist."
#Dyuuku#kcshaku#v: Alice in Borderland#valentine's day emojis#replied#awww this was cute#to counter the angst from your last prompt#;)
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15 mayhaps?
15: Talk about some of your favourite creators: what do you love most about their creations?
oh my goshhhh i have so many favorite people, I'm gonna have to limit myself to just sides creators on tumblr otherwise this will go on forever bdskfh
@rondoel - your art style is so fluid and expressive!!!! i love how the characters are all just so lively and filled with personality; not the mention the gorgeous outfits you put them in wow!! the high school au makes me grin like a madman every time I see a new part and the king au makes me want to scream thank you <3
@impatentpending - your writing is literally the light of my day, stars of my night *chefs kiss* the way you give each character their own tone of voice in my head???? didnât even know that was possible I love you forever <3 kill the lights has been in my browser tabs on my phone for a whole month because I haven't had the time to get back to it but I'm on chapter 9 last I remember and I am So in love with logan and roman okay
@meowthefluffy - your art style is so soft and expressive, I feel like your sona would give me the best hug if I ever met her bfkdshfkds and also lust roman???? that boy gives me Feelings okay, I cant decide if I want to hug him, send him to therapy, or give him the Gay Eyes (or all three)
@romanapologist - hi iâd personally die for you and your art okay okay listen- roman protection squad?????? we can tag team and beat up janus, you have the vibes for it. also your animatics are incredible and iâve rewatched the record player song one so often; I blame you entirely for that song ending up on three of my playlists
@spectralheartt - SPEC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! spec i love u and id die for u if u asked ok ur voice is angel song to my ears and ur edits are chocolate to my eyes (i like chocolate very much so you are in luck!!!!) i think i am incoherent but pretend there are heart emojis here bc I'm on desktop
creator asks!
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Hello! :D I saw you ask for music suggestions in the tags of my clocktower post; while most of it isn't necessarily as 'bouncy' as the rest of your playlist I warmly recommend the Donkey Kong Country Tropical Freeze soundtrack as far as platforming goes! Check out the song "Wing Ding" for example, maybe you could like it! Have a good day :D
DKC music is (chef kiss emoji) so absolutely yes!!!
some chill with the bouncy would work well i think!
(also, since i found their playlist on spotify, methinks i'm gonna slap some Hyper Potions onto the list too, their music is great)
#bluebudgie#sorry it took me a hot sec to get to this ask! i was doing a lot of art and lab running yesterday
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ANNIE!! congrats 100 is a big milestone!!! gimme all the moots ones please!
thanks graceđ„șđ
đ„°- a compliment:
your whole blog theme is just âšđ„°đ *chef kisses*
đ- a handwritten note: (pls donât make fun of my awful handwriting hdhshsgssg)
đ§ââïž- a list of things i associate with you/your blog:
penelope garcia
penemily
morcia
that one morcia scene on alaska
this emojiđȘ
this emojiđ€
đ- a playlist with songs for each letter of your url/name:
m- money by the drums
o- oui ou non by angĂšle
r- redbone by childish gambino
c- choke by idkhow
i- i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys
a- amour plastique by videoclub
a- a-punk by vampire weekend
đŸ- a reaction pic that reminds me of you:
i donât really know why so donât ask međđ
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u already know what's going on... music note emoji for hamlet, horatio, and/or ophelia! depending on how many u wanna do!
ok so i was like âhow abt hamlet & horatio & opheliaâ and then i was like âwasnt i gonna make a playlist for them anywayâ and then i made a playlist but!! here are the ones with the most accurate vibes.
the happy ones - beatrice eli oh GOD this song is so. chefs kiss. the vocaaaals. aside from that this has that good good âthings are awful rn, but i love youâ energy. also yes. hamlet does need therapy. all of them do.
obsessions - marina and the diamonds hhh.. anxiety. is hamlet/horatio/ophelia a healthy or bad relationship? apparently i canât decide. this song is raw and awful and it makes a little more sense for hamlet/ophelia but ghhhh they are all mentally ill and struggling itâs projection hours.
a better son/daughter - rilo kiley i have never in my life heard a better hamlet song. the hatred for a mother. the depression. the everything sucks. but this one is more hopeful and thereâs support from his friends and his family and horatio & ophelia.Â
thank u!!!!
#hamlet#goosemixtapes#asks#hamlet/horatio/ophelia#playlists#h2o#june original#hhgsjdhhjsdgffdskfjhs im sorry i went overboard#ik everyone and their aunt-mother has used that exact image for their h2o aesthetics#but it's perfect...
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lethal combination is my favorite song by The Wombats đ„șđ„șthe acoustic version is *chefs kiss* (also if I may request usage of the đ§ emoji ty ily)
i kNOW ugh i think my fav song by them is give me a try tbh but lethal combination the acoustic is so GOOD i have it on my writing playlist i just love it
<3
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Commission #2
For @nelwynp. Based off a very very old ficverse from wayyyyyyy back in the day called âFrecklesâ which may or may not be found on LJ. Makoto/Nephrite.
Commissions are still open!! Check out the details here or all the other commissions currently available here!
Long distance relationships are statistically known to suck, and honestly, I wouldnât have considered myself the rose-coloured glasses type. The real world doesnât care that youâve probably, maybe, already gotten your share of crap thrown at you, starting from the death of your parents, and think maybe it should cut you a break. I knew the chances of Nick and myself making it were slim. He would be busy, surrounded by strangers a whole two states away. Sure, weâd known each other since we were kids, and maybe by now, he had become the one constant in my life-- my North Star, perhaps-- that forever friend whoâd seen me at my worst and didnât care in the least. And maybe--- maybe, finally, Iâd finally told him those three words that had been nagging at the back of my subconscious for the last year of our acquaintance. Heâd said them back, and it was only then that I realized how much Iâd needed to hear and say them.
Still, I saw him off on that cloudy morning with dry eyes and homemade eggs Benedict-- that is to say, that I fed him and double-checked to make sure that he had not misplaced anything important. The apartment that heâd been living in was stripped bare, and all of his worldly goods were in the trailer of the U-haul which would take him to his new home. I was plugging his phone into the car charger in the front console when his arms wrapped around me from behind, and turned me to face him.Â
Nick has always been a good-looking guy, in that sort of rugged, All-American way, with broad shoulders and a great smile, and Iâd learned at some point in our long acquaintance that he gave the best hugs-- the type that lifts you slightly off your feet and makes you feel like some type of dainty damsel even when youâre six feet tall in heeled boots. Itâs no different now, and maybe I hung on for a moment too long, myself. Heâs not much of a cologne guy, but his sweatshirt smells like laundry soap and Iâm pretty sure heâd used my shampoo that morning again, because his hairâs super soft-- and the flowery scent is not nearly as girly on him as it is on me.Â
âCall me when you get there.â I hope to Hell, of course, that the fact that my voice is muffled against his neck disguises the unsteadiness.
âIâll call you every day.â
I wouldnât hold him to it, of course, but I didnât say anything to that effect, and I watched as he drove off, and then headed off to the gym for a punishing three-mile run on the treadmill followed by a full hour of kickboxing to a playlist of angry girl rock, and if I cried in the shower afterwards, no one needed to know that.
He did call that night, though. And the night after. And the night after that. And soon, it had become a routine, and maybe I should have given him more credit the whole time. Before I knew it, two months had passed, and he flew down for a long holiday weekend, and after weâd christened three separate rooms in my apartment, we got caught up in person. Iâd heard so much about his new place and the people heâd met at his new school that I probably couldâve picked his favourite and least favourite professors out of a crowd.Â
This became a thing, and so for two years, we did the long distance thing. He heard about the awful day when the stand mixer went rogue and how I was still picking bits of cake batter out of my hair two hours later. I heard so much about one particularly persnickety city inspector on a project he worked on that I learned to hate the guy as much as Nick did. Our reunions were sporadic, rapturous and never long enough, though half the time we eschewed actual dates in favour of staying in and just being ourselves together-- watching movies, working out, buying groceries and cooking meals, falling asleep so close together that it was hard to tell where one of us ended and the other one began.Â
We spent that first Thanksgiving at my place-- Friendsgiving, really, cooking a huge meal in a too-small kitchen, inviting all of our old friends. I shooed Nick and James out of my kitchen and chatted with Raye as she snapped a bowl of green beans for me and sounds of the football game filtered in through the living room. She was a ball of nerves-- James would be meeting her very formidable, very rich, very conservative father when he went over to her home for Christmas. Said father would not be amused to find his only daughter not only dating, but actually fully living in sin with a mouthy city boy-- when Nick had moved out, James and Raye had gotten an apartment together. Amy and Zach had arrived a bit later, because heâd had to pick her up from the hospital where her shift had run over. Kevin and Mina, on the other hand, were at her parentsâ house out of state. Sheâd texted me all types of sad face emojis about how the cranberry sauce had come out of a can and the mashed potatoes had come out of a box, but I had no sympathy. She had parents who cooked for her for Thanksgiving, didnât she? Besides, if she really cared about food over time spent with them and Kevin, she would have told them that she had Ebola and came over to my place instead.
At any rate, against all the odds, we somehow managed to make it work, and two years, three months and six days after that first time that I told him I loved him, he was on his way down to visit again. Iâd gone up to see him get his Masterâs degree two months ago and heâd taken me out around the town to celebrate with his friends and classmates. Some of them had met me before, but to those who hadnât, he introduced me as his girlfriend, and from the easy acceptance, I knew that everyone present had some idea of our history. It had been a wonderful weekend, but I was a bit nervous about seeing him again today. Something had come up, very recently, and I wasnât sure how he would take it.
At first, I had thought nothing of the symptoms. Fatigue and a bit of nausea doesnât tend to alarm anyone right off the get-go. Everyone knows restaurant hours are brutal, and as an apprentice chef, any task, no matter how mundane or unpleasant, might get assigned to me on any given day. Certainly, I might get to spend one day arranging delicate edible flowers and a compote of ripe berries around and on top of fancy panna cottas, but the very next, I might be doing nothing but washing dishes and running out garbage. The kitchen I work in specializes in a rotating seasonal menu, and at the time, calamari was in season. Certainly it is delicious deep-fried with casino butter and lemon wedges, sprinkled with sea salt and cracked black pepper, but itâs definitely not as appealing raw, slimy and fishy-smelling. Itâs enough to make anyone lose their appetite doing prep early in the morning. But then I was late. And not to work, if you know what I mean. One week stretched into two, then three. The nausea didnât go away, even when my day consisted of making large quantities of bourbon vanilla buttercream frosting for strawberry white chocolate cakes. It was a week ago that I picked up two different pregnancy tests from Walgreenâs. Both results had come back to tell me what I kind of already knew, deep down, and I was honestly terrified down to the bone.
I had always wanted to have that maybe-stereotypical home and family someday-- the cute house with gingerbread trim and the white picket fence and the garden full of old-fashioned flowers, a husband who loved me and our children and went to baseball games and dance recitals with equal enthusiasm. I wanted to be able to be the mom who baked cupcakes for the bake sale and cookies for the big jar on the kitchen counter, and volunteered to chaperone field trips to the science museum. That had been my own mother, from those distant reaches of old memories, and though Iâd lost her, I knew that it was in me to keep her legacy alive.Â
But I had not intended to do so when I had just started my career, unmarried and still living in a tiny college-campus apartment, with a boyfriend who lives two states away, who might not even want kids. God! That was a discussion weâd never even had.Â
The door swings open, though, before I could think about it any more. Nick has a key to my place, of course, as I do to his. Sometimes he calls, but sometimes he just arrives, like today, a little ahead of schedule. Iâm caught up in one of those long, tight hugs, a warm and familiar hand cupping the back of my neck, and maybe he feels a hint of desperation in my kiss. When he pulls back, his eyes are warm, but full of concern. âEverything okay, Freckles?â
âUgh. Can you not call me that? Weâve talked about that.â Oh, Gods... A baby with his brown hair and my green eyes. His dimples and my freckles. I can almost picture a little girl, toddling on chubby legs, riding on his shoulders, picking dandelions in the yard and blowing the fluff away in the wind. Iâd teach her to bake chocolate chip cookies and read her stories where the princess saved herself and buy her pretty dresses for picture day and sturdy jeans for playing outside in. I loved her already, but she wasnât supposed to even exist.Â
âHabit. And you scrunch your nose up when youâre mad, and I shouldnât like it, but I do.â Nick presses another, shorter kiss to my mouth, then tips up my face. âBut you seem a bit out of sorts. Whatâs wrong?â
âHow could you tell if Iâm out of sorts or not when you literally just walked in two minutes ago?â Itâs an evasion, and Iâm sure he can and will spot the bullshit and call me out on it.Â
âBecause Iâve known you since we were kids, and you donât have to say or do anything for me to know when youâre out of sorts.â Nick pulls me gently over to the love seat, and sits me down, keeping one of my hands in his as though he expects me to bolt at any moment. âEverythingâs okay, right? You didnât have anything particularly horrible at work this week that I recall from our conversations.â
No, this week hadnât been bad. Breaking down chickens is fairly mindless work once you get the hang of it. And the resulting bone broth is wonderful for someone who finds it difficult to keep food down some days. Nick deserves the truth, of course, and maybe the ripping-off-the-bandaid approach is best. I shut my eyes to his all-too-perceptive, all-too-loving gaze, and set my teeth.
âIâm pregnant.â
His hand tightens on mine and his next inhaled breath is sharp, but I plow on. âI know itâs not expected, and I know we were careful, but⊠it is what it is. You donât have to worry, though. Iâm not some delicate little miss whoâs afraid of raising a child. The executive chef at work loves me, as he should, and Iâm sure theyâll work with me when the time comes for maternity leave. And in this day and age, itâs not a big deal to be a single mom. Iâm keeping this baby and sheâs going to get the best life that I can give her, growing up.â I donât know why I was so certain I was having a little girl. But she already existed, to me, and at that moment in time, she was probably only the size of my pinkie nail. âShe will never doubt, for a moment, that sheâs loved.â
âOf course not.â Nick finally speaks, and his voice is an awed, slightly choked-up whisper. I sense him moving, then one big, warm hand rests on my still-flat stomach, followed by the press of his lips. âWeâre having a baby. Wow. Okay, so I guess I should get on with what Iâd already planned to do, even though Iâd planned for this to be a lot more romantic.â Belatedly, I realize that not only has he moved, but he is down on his knees in front of me, one hand on my stomach, the other one digging into a pocket, and then he pulls out a small black velvet box, flicks open the catch.
Iâm not much of a jewelry type of girl-- I wear the same earrings, every single day, but working in a kitchen greatly limits the practicality of going around with bracelets and rings and do-dabs. Still, stereotypical though it might be, Iâd always wanted that classic diamond solitaire engagement ring from my husband-to-be, and now, when itâs staring me in the face-- princess-cut and set in platinum, I find myself speechless.Â
âLita Oakley, love of my life, will you marry me?â
Of course he doesnât mince words. In a lot of ways, I guess weâre past that point. But I draw my hand back a moment before he can slide that ring on.Â
âI donât want you to propose to me because Iâm pregnant and you feel obligated. Youâd end up regretting it, and that would kill me.â We didnât live together now, but if we did someday, and then it all went south, and I had to walk into an empty house bereft of his presence and his things and even the way heâd always kick his shoes off any which way by the door rather than make sure theyâre put up where no one can trip over them, I knew it would break me in a way that hadnât been possible since my parentsâ deaths.
Nick rolls his eyes, though, and huffs out a breath before digging deeper into that little velvet box, all the way underneath the white satin. He takes out a crinkled paper receipt, and unfolds it, and drops it on my lap. âYou are so stubborn. Do you know that? Take a look at that receipt, will you? Just⊠humour me.â
I do. Itâs from some jeweler in his state, and the price of the ring of course makes me wince a little. Itâs definitely not cheap. But then I read it a little closer, and see the time stamp on the top. It was purchased at 4:26 PM on the sixth of December, two whole years ago. Perhaps six months after heâd moved away.
âI got it as soon as I could afford it, and Iâd been saving up for a while. Probably not very well-thought-out of me, when everything was so up in the air. But Iâd always known that weâd be here together, someday, and Iâd be asking you to marry me. Anyway, itâs got nothing to do with the fact that youâre pregnant and everything to do with the fact that Iâve loved you for as long as I can remember, and thereâs no one else in the world for me, and itâs too late to return this ring, anyway.â He pulls it out of the box, and I see something shining, trailing from it. âI know you canât really wear rings, working in a kitchen. So I also got a necklace that you can wear this on, if youâll just say yes. Please say yes.â
âHow are we going to do this?â I blurt out, as that other infamous symptom of pregnancy-- emotional hormonal tears-- makes its appearance. I blink and try to sniffle them away, but Nick simply puts the ring on my finger, silvery necklace dangling from it, and gets up to his feet, pulls me gently to mine. âYou live so freaking far away.â
âNot anymore I donât.â He tugs me close, and kisses me again. âMy lease is up in a month. I figure I can get another U-haul, and con the guys into helping out. Iâm pretty sure that the people can put a good word in for me to get hired in somewhere local-- dumb jock notwithstanding, I worked my ass off these last few years and have the credentials and grades to prove it. Since my lease is up in a month anyway, might as well look for a new place to live. Some place that can be baby-proofed, and definitely not a top floor apartment with a janky elevator like here. Canât have my pregnant fiancee struggling up five flights of stairs every day.â
He makes it seem so simple, really, as he pulls me in for what promised to be an extended cuddle session.Â
But maybe-- maybe it would be.Â
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