#sunday seven

[tacosaysroar]

7

For those curious about what happened with the AI notes from earlier this week, Dolores was a no-show at our Thursday meeting. I won’t have the chance to speak with her alone until Tuesday.

I’m helping to throw a baby sprinkle for my work partner and have been tasked with making a diaper cake. I’ve never done this before — I mean, probably most people haven’t? — but it looks pretty easy on YouTube. Fingers crossed.

We decorated the tree tonight (finally). Adelaide and I each made a mug of chai and were taking turns annoying each other by slurping it. At one point, I looked up from my mug and Adelaide was slowly raising her mug to her lips with BIG eyes and I did an actual spit take . . . all over two pieces of furniture, my purse, my work bag, and my laptop. Whoops.

This is a random one, but I was watching a squirrel cross the road the other day and I’m just so amused by how they pull their tails in tight to their butts to go into turbo mode. (You were warned.)

I put two items on Offer Up a week ago. I had pretty immediate interest on both, one woman messaging “SOLD!!” and both people asking when I was available to meet. I gave them very open options for this weekend. I even agreed to meet in the next town over. Didn’t hear a peep from either all weekend. UGH.

My not-very-old television has kicked the bucket — cue the “sometimes expensive is worse” gif — so NFA is going to help me pick a new one this coming weekend. He���s been in research mode since we discussed, sending articles and texting questions and seems genuinely excited, which is making what would otherwise be kind of an annoying task actually pretty fun.

God, I love eggnog season. If I could continue purchasing it after the holidays, it would really do a lot to take the sting out of January and February.

[magsinhiding]

I caught my dad up on the Taylor Swift news and he was so deeply uninterested.

Both mom and dad are recovering from covid. It’s not been so bad this time around for them, though my dad is taking longer to recover because his immune system is shot from the cancer treatments.

I am surrounded by babies: went to a good friend’s one year birthday for her son. My other good friend is due in 9 days and another friend just texted me today that she’s pregnant with her second.

Got a good walk in around red hook, where I never go. We walked home through Carroll gardens and Gowanus, and I felt really grateful. We get to be on this planet with trees and dogs and brownstones and walk in perfect weather on this Sunday afternoon.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how to be a better friend, how to show up for a support people and also show up and support myself. I often feel like it’s an inconvenience to ask people to hang out or worry people don’t actually like me that much. Then I end up being a shitty friend and shitty to myself.

I am writing this here so I hold myself accountable to get an appointment with a therapist this week. I talked to my mom last week and she asked me how I was handling dad’s cancer, and I answered not at all. Now I feel I have space to process, mourn the fact that he has cancer and be a little less emotionally constipated about it.

Why does all pain connect? The pain of my father’s illness linked to the pain of my extended family estrangement and my self esteem, feelings of inadequacy. It’s never just one thing, it’s all the things.

[dewitty1]

Sunday (Seven)

Got rained out of the market yesterday. It was slow and kind of miserable anyway.(。-ω-)ﾉ

Meant to post my blathering but watched Jesus Camp, and got really upset (traumatized), and had to chill. (╯︵╰,)

Got started this week on a project for a customer who apparently has a lot of projects for me to do, which is fine, but, I wouldn't mind if he spaced them out instead of tacking a bunch on to this first project and wanting it all done in a short amount of time. Like whoa, dude, I'm only one person here, cool it.(ง •̀_•́)ง

We had lovely rain for two days. (Yes, even if it rained me out of "work")ヽ(*⌒∇⌒*)ﾉ

The hummingbirds have been going to work at my feeders this summer! I love it!ヾ(◍’౪`◍)ﾉﾞ♡

The Thursday market was a bit slow too, and so humid. And the people, OMGGGGGGG. Idk why I'm surprised at how icky their attitudes were, since we're are on the conservative side of Washington.s(・｀ヘ´・;)ゞ

I love the warmer weather, and I love being warm, rather than cold, but when it's almost 100°F (38°C) this early (last week) that's a bit ridiculous. ( p′︵‵。)

[pixelorei]

Harmony tuning GONE WRONG !!

Sunday’s plan backfired a bit but we move!

[intrepidacious]

Holiday special request incoming

Steve Rogers x reader under the mistletoe

stay now | s.r.

a/n: i didn't have room to mention it but this was totally loki's fault btw (never trust a loki when there's mistletoe)

They’re like weeds, Steve thinks with an exasperated huff, seasonal parasites that apparently love to follow him wherever he goes; all day long, branches of mistletoe have appeared hanging from doorframes and lampshades and even one of the helicarriers. He’d normally blame Tony or Sam for this, because judging by their shit-eating grins they at least know something, but he’s gotten stuck with Pepper, too, which got him a holler—it was a kiss on the cheek, for crying out loud.

Anyway, the point is that this has been going on for hours and he’s starting to suspect that there’s something supernatural about this infestation and someone should look into this as soon as possible, actually, because there might be some nefarious intent behind it and—

"Steve, you’re stalling," you grin, your gaze flitting between his face and somewhere above his head where he knows, he knows there’s another one of the damn things but he doesn’t want to look up. The alternative, though, is continuing to stare at you, which doesn’t make things better at all and he should really stop doing that and get his shit together pronto and, god, is he blushing?

"We don’t," he starts and has to clear his throat immediately when you take a step closer, "we don’t have to if you don’t, uhm—"

Your hand comes up to his cheek and his voice gives out as you press your lips right next to the corner of his mouth, lingering just long enough for his mind to go blank; and so, when you move away from him again, he catches your chin between his fingers, your smile steady as his heartbeat rushes wildly in his ears, and then he leans in again.

[librathefangirl]

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY TO THE DEMON BROS (and a big fuck you to the demon king)

[wolfpup026]

Seven (+3) Layer Sunday

Thank you for the tags @devilbearingtrouble, @insert-witty-user-name-here, @lgwilt, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening, and @blackbirdofasgard!

I love @devilbearingtrouble's idea of showing seven layers for art, I've never thought of doing that! I could only get it down to ten this time because any fewer looked weird. I'm just doing a Loki painting study right now, as a warm up for my next bigger drawing! Not sure if I'll finish it, I was trying to see if I could do something in a regency painting style (😏) but I realized I don't know how to do that and would need a lot more practice. So I might go a little more stylized instead...

Open tag because it's late!

[henrygrass]

(Pretend it's Seven) Sentence Sunday

I have been thinking about Andrea a lot this past week. So, here's a short scene with her! Thank you for the tags @ironheartwriter @nisbanisba

“Okay, mi amor,” Andrea says, scooping the avocado into a bowl. “Now we need some lime juice to bring out the flavor.” 

She glances over at Jonah, who is standing on a sturdy step stool beside her, peering over the counter. His bright yellow apron, which is just a bit too big for him, is splattered with a few drops of tomato that Jonah chopped with his plastic knife. 

Smiling, she hands him a small lime, already cut in half. “Can you squeeze this for me?”

“Yes, abuela!” he squeals, his face lighting up. 

Jonah hovers his hand over the bowl and squeezes with all his might, his face scrunching up and his tongue peeking out. 

“¡Muy bien!” she says, leaning down to kiss him on the head. She adds a pinch of salt and hands Jonah a wooden spoon. “Do you want to help me stir?” 

He nods and reaches for the spoon, his little fingers gripping it tightly. Andrea wraps her hand around Jonah’s, gently guiding him. 

Jonah’s low hum fills the kitchen as they mash and mix the ingredients together—a tune Andrea recognizes: the same one she and Carlos would hum when he was little and they cooked together often. 

From the garden, she hears Carlos’ booming voice: “TK, don’t!”. 

She moves the curtain aside with her hand just in time to witness TK spray Carlos with the water hose before darting in the opposite direction, with Carlos chasing after him. 

Chuckling, she reaches for the cilantro, joining Jonah in his humming.

Open Tag &

@heartstringsduet @emsprovisions @alrightbuckaroo @welcometololaland

@thisbuildinghasfeelings @lemonlyman-dotcom @decafdino @reyesstrand

@bonheur-cafe @carlos-in-glasses @theghostofashton @tellmegoodbye @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@herefortarlos @strandnreyes @carlos-tk @lightningboltreader @sapphic--kiwi

@ladytessa74 @paperstorm @chicgeekgirl89

@carlossreaders @pimento-playing-hopscotch @goodways @liminalmemories21

(Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed)

[theotherbuckley]

Several Sentence Sunday

I’m alive guys.. I haven’t posted much lately because uni is once again kicking my ass but here’s a snippet from my bucktommy meeting at physio fic au. These men have basically just met and I’m already wanting to smush their faces together and make them kiss but we are so far away from that 😭

He manoeuvres himself until he’s sitting again, closing his eyes as he leans against the wall, trying not to feel sorry for himself.

His phone vibrates in his pocket but he ignores it, knowing it’s probably Maddie asking about his appointment. He’s not ready to answer her yet.

It vibrates again and Buck sighs, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. To his surprise it’s not Maddie, warmth rushes to his cheeks when he sees the messages.

Unknown:

Get home okay?

It’s Tommy 🚁

He’s so kind, checking in to see if he’s okay, even though he drove him home. Buck would cry if he wasn’t already doing so.

His hands shake as he types back, adrenaline and pain rendering his body useless.

Buck:

Elevator broke

A series of dots appear on his screen, indicating Tommy’s typing, before they disappear. It’s hard not to feel disappointed.

He tries to force his mind back onto other things, namely getting up the rest of the stairs before his phone vibrates, this time for longer, Tommy’s new contact flashing on the screen as his call comes through.

Buck stares at the screen, mouth dropping open slightly before he rushes to answer, bringing the phone to his ear.

“T—Tommy?” Buck asks, voice wavering as he speaks. He doesn’t have time to feel embarrassed before Tommy is speaking into his ear.

“Are you okay, Evan?” Tommy says, concern evident in his voice.

“I—” he means to say he’s fine, but there’s something about the worry in Tommy’s voice, or maybe just Tommy in general, that stops him from lying, “I’m sitting on the stairs,” Buck admits as another tear rolls down his cheek. He knocks his head against the wall, closing his eyes and sighing, hiccuping slightly.

“Stay right, there,” Tommy commands. Buck’s in too much pain to properly understand what he’s doing.

“Okay,” Buck whispers.

It could be 10 seconds or 10 minutes later, that Buck opens his eyes to Tommy rushing through the doors to the apartment. Buck doesn’t have a chance to question it because Tommy is right there next to him. He has his large hands wrapped around his face, his thumbs hover over his cheeks like he’s considering wiping his tears away but thinks better of it.

Buck finds himself disappointed that he doesn’t, craving those calloused fingers to wipe away his pain. He wants to lean into those hands, let Tommy hold him, and comfort him — so he does, he can always pass it off as the pain making him delirious if he has to.

Tommy doesn’t question it, too busy checking Buck for any bruising, eyes darting over his body for signs of injury.

“Evan…” Tommy whispers, eyes wide and sad. Buck doesn’t like that look on his face, he much prefers the scrunchy smile. He squirms on the step, pushing his face further into Tommy’s palm to hide.

Tommy chuckles slightly, a soft noise that has warmth blooming in Buck’s chest. He thinks Tommy must have some sort of magic healing powers because he’s already feeling better in his presence.

Tags:

Credit for the idea @bucked-it-up

Tagged by @perfectlysunny02 <3

SSS tags: @bidisasterevankinard @diazheartsbuckley @jeeyuns @honestlydarkprincess @eddiebabygirldiaz @jesuisici33 @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @giddyupbuck @eowon @watchyourbuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @rainbow-nerdss @cal-daisies-and-briars @evanbegins @diazsdimples @wikiangela @bucksbirthmark  @underwaterninja13 @daffi-990 @aspecbuddie @bucks-daddy-issues @tizniz @monsterrae1 @loveyouanyway @hippolotamus @actualalligator @pirrusstuff @actuallyitsellie @dangerpronebuddie @babybibuck @exhuastedpigeon @buddieswhvre @lonelychicago @rogerzsteven @bucksbignaturals @smallandalmosthonest @spotsandsocks @evanbi-ckley @inell @ronordmann @snarkythewoecrow @lavenderleahy

@justcharlie10 @rdng1230 lmk if you want to be added or removed

[ringosmistress]

[bigfootsmom]

seven (ish) sentence sunday

thank you to my beloved @princessfbi for the tag (thank you to everyone else who keeps tagging me in things I’m sorry I’ve been kinda mia😭)

I guess I write coda fics now. The first thing I thought when the jet flew over buck was how tf can he still hear anything and then this was born

Prolonged exposure to loud noises can cause permanent hearing loss. The repeated abuse dampens the cochlear nerve and damages the little hairlike structures, the cilia, located in the ear canal. At 120 decibels can cause ear discomfort, 130 decibels leads to pain, and anything above 140 decibels can rupture an eardrum. Buck already understood all of that in an academic way. It had all been words he read on paper, but he’d never had any of the first hand experience. A jet engine can produce a sound as loud as 160 decibels, depending on proximity and Buck had been pretty damn proximal.

Buck is not thinking about cilia or decibels now. All he’s thinking is jet engines are really fucking loud as he braces an arm against the cement barrier and vomits all over the asphalt.

Tagging

@underwaterninja13 @father-salmon @monsterrae1 @lonelychicago @honestlydarkprincess

@swiftietartt @holdmygum @smallandalmosthonest @shyaudacity @eddiebabygirldiaz

@try-set-me-on-fire @iinryer @eowon @boykisserbuckley @diazsdimples and anyone else who would like to post something!

[magsinhiding]

I made a lemon turmeric cake for a brunch at my friend’s apartment yesterday.

Today I took a walk and got ice cream on the way back for the first time since the fall.

The porn bots are getting more explicit - the last two just had straight porn on them.

I vacuumed today and looked up towels to buy since mine are starting to fall apart. We also need a new bed and couch, but the expense is pissing me off.

We will watch the Oscar’s tonight, and even though I work tomorrow it’ll be from home and a job I enjoy. The Sunday scaries really hit different now.

A friend’s cat died this week. She was 19 but it made me realize all over again that none of us are here forever. I am determined that my cats will die with me, Notebook style, though.

I think more about writing a novel these days. Something a little silly, nothing too serious.

[strandnreyes]

thanks @heartstringsduet @nisbanisba @carlos-in-glasses @emsprovisions !! here’s something from a fic exploring the throwaway line about tk’s softball league

“Nice job, babe,” Carlos praises as he wraps TK in a hug. “You were amazing.”

TK shrugs as they separated. “Eh. I’m still a little rusty. I’ll get better throughout the season.”

Carlos rolls his eyes. “Well, I thought you were amazing. It was fun to watch a game that didn’t end with Owen Strand punching someone.”

TK laughs. “Hey, it’s not too late for that to still happen,” he argues and Carlos shakes his head with a smile. TK grows a little subdued as he looks over at his other teammates meeting up with their loved ones. “We’re going out to celebrate. Families are welcome. Do you wanna come or are you going back to work?”

It’s a fair assumption, but it still hurts to be asked that.

tagging: @paperstorm @lightningboltreader @liminalmemories21 @orchidscript @ironheartwriter @basilsunrise @bonheur-cafe @butchreyes @tellmegoodbye @theghostofashton @freneticfloetry @chicgeekgirl89 @carlos-tk @carlossreaders @henrygrass @reyesstrand @rmd-writes @welcometololaland @alrightbuckaroo + open tag!!

[bekkachaos]

Seven(ish) Sentence Sunday ✨

tagged by some insanely talented people @spotsandsocks @eddiebabygirldiaz @bidisasterevankinard @hippolotamus @diazsdimples @monsterrae1

from the stuck in close proximity fic (aka Buck and Eddie get trapped on a call and they're stuck a little too close for comfort).

This part comes just after a partial collapse where Eddie threw his body over Buck to cover him from debris, and they're a little stuck like that.

"Shuffle back here, under the stairs," he said and they both made awkward movements until they were better sheltered.

Unfortunately, it meant that Eddie would have to stay crouched over him, but at least they wouldn't be at risk of anymore collapsing down on them. Anything that collapsed on them now they definitely wouldn't be surviving.

They were breathing heavily, chests rising and falling into the other. Eddie felt something creep down behind his ear and then watched as a drip of blood landed at the corner of Buck's mouth, then another, sliding down his cheek and onto his jaw.

"Shit," he said. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Buck grunted. "Wouldn't be the first time I've had your blood in my mouth."

Eddie felt something hitch inside his ribs as he looked down at him.

Drip.

Tagging some more lovelies x

@thelikesofus @bi-buckrights @dr-shortsighted-owl @elvensorceress @smilingbuckley @lonelychicago @wildlife4life @jackluvsdaniel @morose-fan @thewolvesof1998 @weewootruck @daffi-990 @spagheddiediaz @honestlydarkprincess @thelovewehad @steadfastsaturnsrings @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @jesuisici33 @tizniz @bucksbiawakening @gayhoediaz @inell

[intrepidacious]

Happy Sunday!

For seven sentence drabbles: Steve Rogers in love with the avengers assistant please 🥺

change of plans | s.r.

a/n: in case you couldn't tell, i love writing smitten steve 🥰

"And then at five you have that—Steve, are you even listening to me?"

"Hmm," he says and you have to resist the urge to smack him in the back of the head with your planner; he has that weird look on his face again that he always gets when you’re just trying to be on your best professional behavior, that distant smile combined with his most attentive gaze. He contemplates you like an artist trying to figure out the best way to map out perspectives, and you know from experience it means he hasn’t taken in a single word of what you’ve just said.

"Remind me to up your caffeine in the morning," you murmur, remembering something you wanted to ask Bruce about and hastily scribbling down a couple of notes while continuing your walk to the elevator; you don’t even notice you’re about to run into a wall before Steve holds out his hand to stop you just in time.

"About that," he says, clearing his throat, "you wanna get coffee with me some time?"

It’s your turn to stare at him, then, wide-eyed and frozen to the spot; his cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink, then, which makes it unlikely that you might have misheard him and so you blink a few times before you hear yourself reply, "I’ll clear your schedule."

And it’s a good thing you’ve taken down those notes earlier because the smile splitting his face makes your mind go completely blank.

[heartstringsduet]

Happy Sunday <3 Hope you're all coping well after the finale. Have some soothing...angst. sorray? this is for the next chapter of A Few Moons Ago. cw: mentions of addiction thanks for tagging me @welcometololaland and @carlos-in-glasses

TK has been here before, said the same exact words to a room of strangers. Felt his lungs try to compress around the words until he pushed them out with force. But this isn’t a meeting with rusty metal chairs and watery coffee, this is a couch he sinks into in a house that is filled with a now familiar and calming scent.

Carlos regards him attentively, sitting up tall with his hands now in his lap. He’s fully human but looks a lot like an attentive wolf with perched ears. It makes TK feel both seen and hunted.

Fixing his eyes on the couch table, TK finally airs himself out.

“I‘m an addict.“ 

Within three words, he has the biggest chunk of himself out in the open. In his periphery, Carlos goes completely still. TK breathes in deep, searches for the bouquet of rejection in Carlos’ scent, find a reason to halt what feels like too much comfort too early. He does find the sharp tinges of sweat, but nothing like he expected. Surprise maybe, sadness.  OPEN TAG &

@carlossreaders @annoyingcloudearthquake @carlos-in-glasses @carlos-tk @future-tense

@paperstorm @strandnreyes @henrygrass @lightningboltreader @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@lemonlyman-dotcom @theghostofashton @ladytessa74 @freneticfloetry

@liminalmemories21 @emsprovisions @sapphic--kiwi @pameluke @neverblooms

@welcometololaland @rmd-writes @alrightbuckaroo @decafdino @liminalmemories21

@tellmegoodbye @ironheartwriter @literateowl @reyesstrand

@butchreyes @corsage @honeybee-taskforce @orchidscript

@never-blooms @irispurpurea @everlastingday @theghostofashton

@nisbanisba @bonheur-cafe @certifiedflower @firstprince-history-huh @denizoid

@nancys-braids @chicgeekgirl89 @ironheartwriter @pimento-playing-hopscotch

@rangersoup @the-126-family @carlos-tk @ladyknight1512 @ameriicansrequiems