#this is the sort of shit that goes on in my brain a good 70% of the time

[trek-tracks]

Space, the final frontier.

That is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to explore

The strange new worlds of our outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a five-year mission

And, by opposing, end it. To go—to seek,

Once more; and by “to seek” to say we find

The new life and new civilizations

Where man has gone not: 'tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish'd. To go, to seek;

To seek, perchance to find—ay, there's the rub:

For in these voyages what dreams may come,

When we have boldly gone whence we have not,

Must give us pause—there's the respect

That makes a mission of so long a life.

For who would bear the Enterprise of time,

The starship’s wrong, admirals’ contumely,

The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,

The insolence of office, and the spurns

That patient merit of th'unworthy treks,

When he himself might make his voyage on

With a bare warp core? Who would tribbles bear,

To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

But that the hope of something to be found,

The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn

We travel and return, puzzling our will,

And makes us wish to solve those ills we have

And fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience makes explorers of us all,

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is glistened o'er with the stars of thought,

And Enterprises of great pith and moment

With this regard their currents warp ahead

And seize the name of action.

[himbosandhardwear]

Steddie I Different First Meeting I NSFW I Public Indecency I 2.8k words

He's planted. Call him The White Tree of Gondor, he's so planted. Nothing and no one could move him from this spot.

He's going to have perfect line of sight to center stage, as long as no one over 6’3” stands in front of him. He's got his good boots on, giving him a solid three inch lift.

Some people come and go, not as dedicated to keeping their spot. Not Eddie. He's planted.

“You think he moved back?” Some chick yells behind him.

“Doubt it,” her companion yells back, “the point was to get closer.”

“Well I don't know if I can deal with closer. It's only going to get worse when the band goes on, and I'm at my limit for men touching me today.”

“I'm pretty sure there's beer in my hair.”

“A fate worse than death,” she mocks him, making Eddie chuckle. “You wanna bail? He can come find us after.”

“I don't know, Rob, he's just a kid. What if he gets scared?”

“Oh my god, he's sixteen.”

“He's short!” The guy yells shrilly, practically in Eddie's ear. “No way he can see over top everyone's head.”

“Okay, then you stay, dingus. I'm going to go pay $12 for a bottle of water. Come find me after.”

“Rob! C'mon, don't- Rob! Ah shit.”

Eddie almost turns to give the guy some reassurance but he can't, making friends in the crowd is how you end up getting pulled into another direction. He can't chance it. He's planted.

Not to mention his friend was right, the more time that passes, the more packed in they become. Once or twice the guy behind him gets jostled into Eddie's back, mumbling apologies each time. Eddie doesn't bother to reply.

He's determined to ignore the guy until suddenly they're pressed front to back, shoulder to calf, the guys massive hands wrapping solidly around Eddie's waist so they don't fall down, and he's fucked. Suddenly the guy behind him is all he's thinking about.

Of course this turn of events sends the poor guy into apology overdrive, hands ripped back immediately as he stutters his excuses.

Eddie waves it off, still not turning away from the front, but the urge is strong. He kind of needs to see if the guy is as hot as that ten second press against him would suggest. Christ on a bike, he even smells good. At least Eddie is pretty sure that's him, the pine/sugar/sweat combo.

A glance at his watch tells him they've got maybe another ten minutes until the show starts. Five minutes ago that would've been all he would've cared about but now he's got Hot Boy Brain Rot and can't focus.

Which is why the next time they get pushed together, Eddie does absolutely nothing to help correct, he lets the guy pull him back and very nearly fall flat on their asses. The only reason they don't is because they fall into the people pressing forward.

“I swear to god, I'm not doing this on purpose,” the guy says with a chuckle that warms Eddie’s already sweaty skin. He hasn't let go yet, his enormous hands hold Eddie upright, skin on skin where his shirt has been cropped.

He's lost his mind completely, because he puts his own hands on the ones circling his waist and squeeze, a soft acceptance of their predicament. It could mean nothing if the guy is straight - maybe, probably, he's not good at judging that sort of thing - but if the hot guy standing behind him is in any way interested, he'll understand.

And praise Dale, raise hell, he does! Long fingers tighten, slide, tighten, before letting go again. He's pretty sure the guy just stuck his thumbs into the indents at the top of his ass too.

Which is when he realizes there's a not zero percent chance the guy thinks Eddie is a girl.

He forgot he's wearing a kilt, which idiots seem to think is a skirt 70% of the time he has it on. Combining that with his hair being down and the fact that he hasn't turned around at all… Fuck.

You're 6’2” right now. Maybe that's enough of a hint. Or your hairy legs? No, it's way too dark to see that far down, no way he-

Eddie squeaks as the guy runs a finger tip along the edge of the kilt. Luckily, it's too loud for the sound to travel, that would've been devastating.

The guy leans forward and whisper/yells, “Is this okay?” into his ear.

Eddie nods, takes a miniscule step back, bringing himself closer. He's gonna take this as far as he can before they either get kicked out for indecent acts or the guy realizes what he's doing and bashes Eddie for ‘tricking him.’ The smart thing to do would be to fucking turn around and confirm his stupid gender but… it's nice feeling wanted for a moment. Nice enough for whatever the consequences are.

An arm snakes around his middle, a fucking nice arm, all sinewy and freckled and brown, causing a surge of giddiness. They're pressed together again, this time on purpose. The guy seems to instinctively know Eddie has this spot picked out because he doesn't let anyone push them or get between. He does, however, laugh every time they get jostled closer together. It's infectious too, makes him smile along every time he hears that giggle. If the guy doesn't stop being adorable soon, Eddie is gonna fall in love.

Whoops. Too late. There's an enormous cock pressed up against his ass; any semblance of control or ability to play it cool goes right out the window.

He's never been more proud of himself for taking up street hockey with Jeff and his cousins than this moment. Some asshole had said to him, years ago now, ‘No one wants a bottom with a flat ass,’ and Eddie let that settle into a deep seated neurosis that pushed him into sports. Casual sports, that actually turned out to be pretty fun, but still…

Anyway, he's got an ass worth pushing against now, which is doing fantastic things for the whole ‘accidently luring a stranger into simulating sex acts at a concert' thing he's got going on.

Good god are they playing with fire right now. Yeah everyone is distracted by the drum tech setting up but it's not like they're invisible here. The guy to Eddie's left is just as close as the one rubbing off against his ass, if he glances down he's gonna see what they're doing. That thought only brings Eddie closer to finishing, untouched, in his underwear. His own erection is being held down by his boxer briefs, which are always a good choice when wearing a kilt. Shit happens in the pit, he's never been keen on flashing his bare ass to everyone if he takes a header.

He's snaking a hand down, trying to be subtle, but he needs to squeeze his dick or he's going to start crying.

His new friend must catch the movement because his right hand follows the trajectory, sliding right along with Eddie’s, until they're both stalled out, cuping his hip instead of his erection. Eddie thinks about passing out, he's so turned on and terrified. Either the guy knows he's about to touch a human penis or he's about to get an unwelcome surprise.

Before Eddie's heart can explode and kill him, three things happen rapid fire:

The lights go completely dark, signifying the start of the show, which makes the already packed stadium lose its collective shit.

Then there's a call from behind, the dreaded, “Heads up!” Eddie only just manages not to burst into tears as his one true love has to let go to support the weight of the asshole crowd surfing above them. He makes sure to pinch the fucker as he takes the weight of his stupid leg as it goes by.

Then, immediately after, there's another crowd surge as the first lick of Blackened rings out around them. Adrenaline pumps through Eddie like a lava flow, two desires waring within him making it impossible to choose. Does he turn to find the man of his dreams or does he stay the course and watch the greatest metal show of all time?

Considering this is the third time he's seen Metallica live, he turns around.

He's gone. The only people behind him now are two chicks with their tits painted white and gold and a middle aged biker.

Awesome.

He keeps looking but no one near fits the right description, not even close. Why the fuck didn't he turn around and just look at the guy? At least then he'd know who to look for after the show.

It's not like his night is completely ruined or anything. He jumps in the closest pit and takes his disappointment on the poor bastards unlucky enough to crash into him, and he has a splendid time with that. It wasn't his original plan, he wanted to stay center stage and actually watch the show this time, but he's too keyed up to stand still now, better to shove his fellow man and get elbowed for his troubles.

By the time James is wailing out the final insane notes of Battery, Eddie is thoroughly beat. It's a slog getting to the back of the stadium but he's determined to beat the crowd to the pissers. The night was fun and all but he's ready to go. Ready to stick his hand down his pants(kilt), relive the oddest and hottest encounter he's ever experienced, and then forget it ever happened.

He's made it as far as the merch line when a familiar voice yells his name. He looks back and sure enough, Dustin Henderson is waving at him like a semaphore code operator. Goofy ass kid, Eddie loves him to death.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asks after giving him a back slapping hug.

“Surprise early birthday gift, I didn't know until yesterday or I would've told you.” His whole body is thrumming with excitement. It must be his first metal show. You wouldn't know it to look at him, he's got a whole mini-Eddie thing happening, which is adorable.

“That's awesome, dude. You didn't want to stay till the end?”

“I already saw their setlist and calculated the timing just right to get in line before the crowd let out.” Of course he did. “What about you? Taking off?”

“Yeah, I've had…a weird night. Good but weird.”

“You wanna ditch in line? Looks like they still have plenty of T-shirts available.”

He laughs. “Nah, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home. I'll see you Saturday?”

“Totally, wouldn't miss it-”

“There you are! Jesus, Henderson, I thought I lost you. Your mom would kill me if something-”

The guy finally stops bitching but only because he's staring at Eddie like he's seen a ghost.

“Uhh,” Eddie drawls, confused.

“Steve! This is Eddie! You know, from Hellfire, at Tech.”

It would be appropriate for them to shake hands, he thinks, but the guy is just staring at him, going more and more red as the seconds pass. It's a good thing he's pretty because his social skills could use some work.

“Hey dingus, did the beer in your hair finally soak into your brain.” The woman standing to Steve's left knocks on his forehead with a knuckle, making him flinch.

“You guys okay?”

Eddie is too busy being strapped into a roller coaster of emotion to respond to Henderson’s quiry. It can't be this easy, fate has never been this kind or cruel to Eddie, not at the same time. His dream man can't be Dustin's babysitter/big brother Steve. That guy drives a BMW and listens to Supertramp, which he only knows because he followed Dustin out to the parking lot one night. Except, Steve is gorgeous and fun and a good dude who worries about his kids, and is smoking hot.

He knows Steve knows he knows now, his own face has gone beet red, and they're just staring at each other, like some kind of gorgon in a bathroom mirror situation.

“What is this? Why are you being weird?” Steve's girlfriend - Rob? - asks. “Wait, oh my god, is Dustin’s other dad, your imagined arch nemesis, the Guy in the Crowd? Holy shit, he totally is, what are the fucking odds!” She cackles.

Wait. He told her about that? And he knew I'm a guy? And he thought we were nemesis? That's so hot.

Dustin is going on about Steve's apparent low self esteem and how Steve needn't worry about his loyalty and how he loves them both equally, which is sweet, but he and Steve are still just staring at each other.

“I know a good diner around here,” he blurts out when Dustin finally shuts up. “They have all you can eat pancakes.”

Steve's eyes do something devastating, adjacent to cows touching grass for the first time. “I like pancakes.”

“Let's get pancakes.”

“Okay.”

They start walking away, dazed, until Dustin reminds them of his presence, loudly and with much insult. “Steve! You drove us here!”

“Shit.” He turns back. “Right. Sorry. C'mon, we're getting pancakes.”

Dustin looks to Rob, as if to say, ‘What the fuck is going on?’ She replies back with a sort of ‘I don't get paid enough to explain this to children’ and ‘I know, he's hopeless but we love him’ both kinda look.

“What?” Steve asks.

“I'm still in line, dude. I want a T-shirt.”

“But-”

“No buts!” Dustin screeches. “Pancakes can wait!”

Eddie wishes they would figure it out soon, he still has to piss.

Rob, bless her, she's Eddie's new best friend, takes Dustin under her arm and asks Eddie, “Where's the diner?”

“25th and Dudley Ave. Called Roxy's.”

“Got it. Go on, I'll bring your son after he's got his stupid shirt.”

Dustin is the epitome of disbelief. “What! No! Guys, don't leave me with Robin!” He yells, to which Robin responds by putting him in a headlock.

“Go! Run before he figures out what's going on.”

Steve doesn't need to be told twice, apparently, he grabs Eddie's wrist and yanks him toward the exit doors. It’s exciting, running away with Steve, even though they’re only running from Dustin. Still, it leaves them both breathless by the time they get to the end of the block, both laughing about how ridiculous it all is.

“God. Haven't run like that since…well the last time the cops were after me.”

Steve just grins, hands on his knees, looking like a former athlete, all deep breaths and physical therapy style stretching. Fucking hot jocks, ugh.

Eddie wants to mount him.

Which brings them up to the awkward part: acknowledging what happened.

Steve braves it first. “Hey, I, uh, I don't want you to think I go around doing shit like that.”

Eddie, ever the opportunistic asshole, says, “Shit like what?” When Steve's face falls to horror, perfectly timed, and Eddie loses it. “I'm kidding, sorry, I'm just fucking with you. It was definitely me.”

“Dick,” Steve says but he's laughing.

“Yeah, that's me.” They sort of instinctively move away from the street, closer to the less busy side storefronts. “In the interest of honesty, I should tell you, I wasn't entirely sure you knew I wasn't a girl, that's why I sort of hesitated right there at the end, before we got separated.”

Steve looks baffled. “Huh?”

“You know.” He waves at himself. “From the back I could be a tall chick. Cause of the kilt and the hair and everything.”

He shakes his head. “Dude, I saw you from like four rows back. Why do you think I stopped where I did?”

Fuck. Okay. That's…awesome. He jams a whole fistful of hair against his face.

“Also, even if you had turned out to be a tall chick, not a deal breaker. You're fucking hot either way.”

“Okay, Romeo, cool it with the compliments before I make you finish what you started right here.”

Jesus tap-dancing Christ, that smirk should be illegal.

“Right here against the jewelry shop window? I'm not opposed.” Eddie very seriously considers the pros and cons of that but before he finishes, Steve laughs. “Better not. I was promised pancakes. And Lord have mercy if Rob and Henderson get there before we do.”

He's right. God dammit.

“Fine but for the record, which I feel goes without saying, I do put out on the first date.”

Steve laughs. “Never would've guessed.”

By the time they get to Roxy's, Steve has his arm around Eddie's waist, pinkie tucked deep into his kilt.

[parisiterileymoon]

Yoo i just read your angel dust x reader in the 40s and it was great! If you ever need to write something in italian i'll gladly translate it for you (i am italian)

Btw are your requests open? If so then can i ask for a sort-of follow up to your aforementioned post? Reader goes to hell after getting shot by angel's dad, some years pass and angel dies too but they don't know they both went to hell and assume the other one is in heaven and one day they meet again out of luck and recognize eachother after having a conversation in a bar or something like that (btw if you could refrain from calling him anthony too much it would be greatly appreciated, nothing against that it's just that my dad is named antonio and it feels kinda weird to read a fic with my dad's name lol, but if you want to call him anthony anyway i don't mind at all), thanks for reading!

If my request violated any rules please tell me so that i won't make the mistake again

You are incredible! I adore how detailed this request is. I will use as little “Anthony” as possible lol.

Angel dust x reader (1940s follow up…or part two?)

C/W: cannon typical violence, grief, loss, mildly suggestive, survivors guilt, regret, crying LOTS of emotions.

~~

70 years. 70 years is how long it’s been. 70 years since you have seen him. It was startling at first. You never thought you would see him again. For a while you just held eachother. You sat there, your face nuzzled in his fluff. “Oh my god I have so much to tell you.” He smiled down at you. He began to talk about the family. You didn’t listen. You just stared at him. At how beautiful he is. You held his bottom set of hands and rested your head on his chest. You’ve never seen him so happy. This beautiful man you have been waiting for him for what it feels like an eternity and he’s finally here. You are in his arms at last. “Hey are you listening?” “No. I’m not. I’m sorry but…you look so happy. I can’t help but think…I mean it’s like- my whole brain is occupied by the thought ‘holy shit…this is it. This is what I have been waiting for. What I have been wanting.’ I’ve waited seventy years, my angel.” Tears well up in both your eyes. “Oh…oh my god.” He grabs your face and pulls it up to his. He kisses you. Not a kiss full of heat, but not with any less passion. A kiss filled with love and adoration. A kiss from a man missing the love of his life for 70 years. 70 years filled with pain and agony. For a moment, he forgot his pain, suffering, trauma, and tears. You are his everything. You are the reason he wanted to hang on. The shred of hope that you might reunite. “I thought you went to heaven” he said after he pulled away. You shake your head. “Why?” You laugh pitifully “I’ve done terrible things…” he sighs. “Because you regretted it. Every time. Every time you shot or stabbed you felt horrible. You brought flowers to their graves. You cried, tha-that can’t mean nothing!” He looks confused and angry. How dare they deny the love of his life entry to paradise? You are the kind of person to cry when Bambi’s mom died every time. Without fail. You put a chocolate smile on his pancakes once! “You’re too good for this shithole, (____)…too good.” His voice shakes as he said your name. You kiss him. Comforting, passionate, painful, sweet, and loving. “If I went to heaven I would’ve never seen you again.” You looked into his eyes. There were so many emotions swirling between the two of you that night.

I think the moral of this story is that…I don’t know hold on to the people that love you.

~~

I cried well writing this. Any feedback is encouraged. Thank you for reading🫂

[goldenstarprincesses]

As a fellow middle school fan getting dragged back in due to brain tired from school your post about England not showing to the Revolution is living in my brain

Broke: Arthur crying in the rain at Alfred leaving and we feel bad for him getting rejected

Bespoke: Due to salutary neglect Arthur literally hasn’t been to the colonies in like 70 years and when he turns up huffing and puffing Alfred just goes ‘Oh now you care’ and tries to bite him

Academic burn out 🤝Middle school comfort media

How bad of a father Arthur was to America really depends on my mood, but man, I have a entire list of headcanons regarding being a terrible one. Was he as bad a France or Spain? probably not. But he sure did help fuck up a perfectly good baby nation!

If I think about it to much I start imaging a little toddler America scared and alone. Unsure of how they work or how the world around them works. Like, the original English caregiver Arthur dumps them with gets freaked out as soon as they realize their charge isn't "normal" so little America has just to kinda just figure it out themselves for the first 100 or so years. Involves a lot of wondering around the woods, towns, and then getting run out/t least once killed by humans. I generally headcanon Arthur sorta gets his shit together after gaining control of Canada, and that when he starts providing some sort of support. But even though his money is being sent, he's still not around and so when he shows up near the end of the war (if he dose at all) American is 100% past any parental feelings Arthur selfishly/naively expected them to have

[sabakos]

.

Quite frankly I think the madness means I should be allowed to say "retarded" even if it *is* true that my IQ was over 180 when they tested it in middle school. Apparently my mother won the fight with my father about not telling me that information, which is a good thing because I did not need *that* piece of information on top of all the other nonsense I had going on. Not like I can even brag about that anyway, who would believe me? I don't even quite believe it myself, it's more likely my dad has early onset dementia or is lying to me or trying to flatter me for some unknown reason. Great thing to bring up casually over lunch, like oh hows the brisket sandwich btw you are literally smarter than god.

If it really is true I kinda wish nobody else growing up had access to that information either though? The personal half-hour long moral lecture from the middle school principal about how I needed to "stop being so lazy" because of how incredibly smart I was when I started not doing well in my classes does make a lot more sense in retrospect, but since none of these people in my life who apparently cared so much about how much of a "genius" i was provided any material help I think it would have been better if i had been left alone.

But also fuck all the other IQ-obsessed people even more honestly. fuck your stupid "you scored really well on pattern matching and word puzzles and shit so you need to contribute more to society and solve all the greatest problems" mindset. i dont owe you shit, if it really is true that any of this shit makes me so much better (which I doubt, honestly...) then I stand by my teenage attitude that being smart meant I deserved to work less hard to fulfill the same expectations as everyone else and that the excess slack belonged to me. go find a "gifted and talented program" bootlicker with perfect handwriting to sort your fucking spreadsheets; im going to do the bare minimum that still lets me have a cheese budget.

and on top of it all turns out I'm literally fucking psychotic anyway so up yours, society. if I worked my ass off in my 20s to change the world before my brain exploded maybe they would have blamed it all on that, but for my part I'm glad I got to indulge in all the "leisure" that I did, and with any luck I've got 50-70 more years of this to not "make anything of myself." maybe i'll be lucky enough to land a boring programmer job where the stress doesnt poison my brain and I can slack off a bit without anyone noticing when the emails start sounding poetic. but fuck your stupid cult of the genius im not going to save the world or cure cancer, if all goes well then excepting maybe some alternative lifestyle bullshit im going to live as a fucking normie and keep to myself. boil the goddamn world for all i care.

[pathofreason]

huge slash random as hell to do esque list.

feel free to ignore or tell me how you keep yourself in check ex. diary, notion, etc. liking this so i can save it lol + i think i'll pin it too

make new emails ; come up with email handles. need emails for:

instagram, spotify, letterboxd, discord, pinterest, fragnatica, last.fm

tumblr

games (hsr, gi, etc)

college (will keep using the same one, listed for visualization) *

sort of professional ish sounding email *

? github , etc *

notion ??? i'm scared of having personal data stolen even tho i would assume it happens all the time but this is why i always have a handful of diff emails for diff things so mostly none are linked and i'm unsure if i should have the notion one separate from the rest etc.

* possibly the same one as the one for college? maybe make a new one? github should be same as the pro one but i have no github acc yet unfortch. etc. college one is mostly just getting emails forwarded there, etc

will think of more things for the email section later. if there even is more to think about

think of good usernames a la "pathofreason" that can stick for a while and aren't cringe/won't need to be changed after 3 months. same goes for the emails

make a FUCKING notion account dear god. i have obsidian but it does not feed my aesthetics hungry brain at all

not nearly as important as anything else in this post and almost done already but need to really stabilize it - - - lists of favourites: films / writers / directors / musicians / philosophers / fashion designers / songs / albums. will add more if i remember

MAKE LIST OF GROCERIES I WOULD BUY WEEKLY.

DAILY ROUTINE INCLUDING:

10k steps minimum

waking up between 5:30 and 9:00 + at most 10:00 on days off, 11:00 to 12:00 if feeling unwell or hungover

going to bed between 22:00 and 00:30

at least 70% healthy food. if unhealthy then eat insanely little and balance

water consistently no specific goal in ml

stretching for mobility

light workouts at least 30min while doing something else (watching youtube, cooking etc)

study minimum 1h

write in diary/journal when i do start - and i should start asap

hand cream at night

shower - no hair

TAKE GOD DAMN VITAMINS ETC

brush teeth morning and night

WEEKLY (ish) ROUTINE INCLUDING:

read book(s). no weekly page goal

watch one film per week

listen to the only two podcasts i enjoy will not list them here

wash hair twice a week (wednesday and weekend?)

exfoliate once a week or every second week if no energy

thursday casino after classes for free €10 "ladies night" on machines DO NOT STAY LATE

WHEN GOING OUT:

gloves

scarf

lipstick/gloss/eyeshadow

sunglasses

€100 MONTHLY BUDGET COVER:

extra for groceries if needed - estimate weekly €15 monthly €65

bus ticket if needed - €15

hygiene necessities - estimate monthly €20

if i don't use it up for these then i can spend it on whatever i want. most notable and common options coffee, makeup, clothes

ORGANISE:

spotify (playlists)

lists on letterboxd (decide favourite films finally)

closet - do i even have a style? get rid of cringe shit from years ago. get in touch with what i have and if i need more or replacements or declutter etc

book collection

phone. the entire thing

CLEAN AND ORGANISE MY ROOM AND APARTMENT

START REPLACING WHAT IS LEFT OF SHITTY FOOTWEAR AND COATS/JACKETS/ETC

NEED TO BUY:

socks that don't suck ass

small pouch for my makeup that isn't ugly looking

l'occitane hand cream

lip balm(s)

coffee capsules for machine

pajamas

WANT TO BUY:

mac lipstick in diva

dior single eyeshadow in beige mitzah

chanel eyeshadow quad - haven't decided which one

those perfect €165 red boots (thin heels unfortunately) i found but don't remember the brand

NEED TO FIND:

good coats in general

good snow boots

good sunscreen - it's almost winter rn so not necessity for rn but very important

WANT TO TRY:

"skincare" - idk if i'm being gaslit by social media tho i'm 20yo idk if this chemical shit even matters other than sunscreen ofc

WANT TO FIND:

real fur ushanka

(real duh) leather gloves

chanel lipstick i actually like

nail lacquer that isn't in an ugly looking bottle : clear, red, beige. etc

MIDTERMS START ON THE 19TH GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER AND FUCKING STUDY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND ALSO WORKOUT TO GET FUCKING SKINNIER DAMN!!!!! AND GET ORGANISED!!!!

[longhands-the-second]

Trimax vol. 3 notes

UGH UGH UGH

This cover is so sexy. The colors make my brain go brrr

I read and typed this the night before, oops. I needed something to make me less bored and sad and by god I got it. (<- has so much homework he doesn’t even want to look at it)

1- Based on what i’ve seen of future installments there’s a trend in the particular kind of body horror nightow likes to draw huh

The color of blood? Literally blood? I wasn’t sure if he was actually crying blood in the previous volume or not or if the tears were just darker bc art shit. I think his vibes are like that of a bird of prey. If that’s what we’re getting at here? (At least this version of him is. Stampede is a different beast. Somehow both cuttlefish and like, crow? I’m still yelling about the stampede finale-)

Does having high bullshit tolerance make you less human somehow…? What’s the logic here?

Is wolfwood saying that to him directly? Fucked up if so. He does NOT need more piled on him right now

2- im just flashing back to 98 wolfwood saying he’s never fired a gun before-

Does gray have the same sort of top that Vash had? The almost-tubing on the sides? Or is that just a favorite design thing?

That was pretty much all just fight scene huh.

3- EW EW EW

god, it’s only just now hitting that these are the faces of people he knew. People he cared about. Christ.

:( i want to get off of mr bones wild ride

I’m not like. Gagging or anything i just hate it.

The thing about Vash being quiet angry is that it’s almost got this elegance to it. Like his mind has left his body and he’s just running on his experience and skill now. He’s pissed and he’s dissociating. I feel like the whole room gets icy when he’s like that, even if you’re outside in the suns.

NO OH NO GOD-

FUCK I KNEW THAT WAS GONNA HAPPEN AND I STILL WASNT READY

4- does. Does he know him???

Oh hell.

He set off the sprinklers???

WET HAIR VASH

5- brad is much more of a character than i was expecting.

God i can just hear wolfwood in that moment

Well. Yikes.

HAHAHSJSJJS milly jumpscare

6- what the fuck that piano is so cool

Seeing vash with both arms feels illegal somehow

Or no, does it have some kind of cover on it? Or is that what it looks like below those gloves?

He is SOOOO not okay right now

Woah damn is that what luida looks like here?

Im sure he’s just beyond relieved to see people lived.

Oh wow. Im… proud of him for admitting it? Something like that? God he looks so tired

“Woah vash you’re fucking ancient aren’t you???”

7- he is a solid 70% leg. Good for him.

He looks so normal it’s very strange.

True immortality???? Maybe that’s why knives is baby smooth every time we’ve seen him. (Ick.) (there’s some part of me that wants so badly to like knives on the grounds that I understand where he’s coming from but he’s literally the fucking worst.)

There goes his arm. Again. Why is it always that one?

He genuinely reads like a different person with his hair down. Maybe that’s just me.

Did. Did nightow give mike mignola a copy of trigun. Better yet did he read it? We’re asking the real questions here.

(I made a poll for Vash’s vibes and the results are mostly exactly what I expected? Will post my findings. Manga Vash has the most variety so far.)

((Will I be able to do anything cool for Vash’s birthday? Who knows. Crossing my fingers I can hold it together that long, I am SO done with my summer classes and I wanna go home.))

(((I have had the worst stampede brainrot recently. It’s the purple color scheme and the flowers and the everything at the end. It fuckin EATS. I want to hold him gently.)))

[oreosmilkshakes]

Mine; Part 2

Summary: A continuation of the first one.  Pairing: The Winter Soldier!Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 1.9K Warnings: Mention of torture A/N: Well, as requested, here is part 2! Enjoy and comment on how it is! Edited and checked by @thebestdecoder​  ED/N: Apologies for any mistakes made in editing, RedBull doesn’t work on me anymore. Taglist: @tastingcevans @missingartist96 @generationallyfluid @paniniirae @felicityofbakerstreet @roguesthetic​ @igothroughphasesalot​

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the team came to be, Strike Team, led by Rumlow, had them surrounded with guns pointing at them. In no time, they cuffed Steve, Sam, and Natasha and threw them in the back of an armored truck.

“It was him,” Steve began, eyes on the cuffs. He felt a massive sense of guilt especially since finding out Bucky was alive and that he didn’t bother to find him after his fall. “He looked right at me like he didn’t even know me. Instead, he looked right at Y/N,” Steve was still in disbelief that Y/N’s soulmate was Bucky. Sam looked up at Steve. “How is that even possible? It was like 70 years ago? What’s worse is that that killing machine is Y/N’s soulmate,” Steve squeezed his eyes shut, choosing to avoid answering the second question. “Zola. Bucky’s whole unit was captured in ‘43. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. They must have found him and--,” Natasha shook her head slightly, weak from her untreated wound. “None of that’s your fault, Steve,”

Steve sighed lowly. “Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky,” Natasha leaned back. “None of it is your fault, Steve. Even losing Y/N. I just hoped she did manage to escape from..from Bucky,” She was weakening and Sam took notice fast. He turned to the two soldiers. “We need to get a doctor here. If we don’t put pressure on that wound, she’s gonna bleed out here in the truck,” The first soldier ignited his stun rod, Sam leaned back a little. What he didn’t expect was for said soldier to attack the second, knocking him out effectively. Maria sighed, removing the helmet. “Ah, that thing was squeezing my brain,” The team was surprised to find an ally among the Strike Team. Time to make their big escape.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Slowly, Y/N came to be. However, it only came in short bursts. The first time she came to be shortly, bright light penetrated her eyes. She couldn’t see well, only blur filled her vision and in no time, she passed out again. The second time Y/N came to be, it was dark and the air smells stale. She tried to move but she couldn’t. She gave up and drifted back into the darkness. The third time Y/N came to be, she was fully conscious now. Her eyes fluttered open, accustoming her eyes to the dimly lit room. It seems like she was held hostage in an abandoned building but Y/N didn’t know for sure. The only giveaways were the newspaper-covered windows and the fact that the room she was in looked like a bedroom. Her eyes focused on the silhouette and almost instantly, fear sprouted in her chest. Y/N tugged hard on the binds, panting softly as she tried to get her hands and feet out of the bonds. 

(gif credited to the owner)

The Soldier turned to Y/N, his movements silent and intimidating as he moved closer to the woman. His metal hand reached out to touch Y/N’s cheek. He could not bring his soulmate back to HYDRA or else they would kill her. He knows HYDRA was ruthless in this sort of thing. So, to protect his soulmate, he took her to a safe place.

Y/N whimpered, scooting backwards until her back hit the wall. She shuddered when she felt the cool metal touch her cheek.

“Stop..get away from me,” Y/N begged quietly. All her training as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was failing, the terror growing in her was overwhelming. The Soldier could easily kill her with a flick of his wrist if she wasn’t his soulmate, of course. 

“When I first saw colours, I never imagined my soulmate to look as gorgeous as you,” The Soldier’s voice was low, his metal thumb stroked her delicate cheekbone. 

“Don’t touch me,” Y/N attempted to sound strong, moving her face away from The Soldier’s touch. A low growl escaped the assassin’s lips, a metal hand gripped Y/N’s face lightly. “You are mine, doll. You belong to me because you are my soulmate. Even if you don’t like it, I don’t care. You will learn to love me,” The Soldier leaned in, the tip of his nose brushed against Y/N’s. The agent gulped, avoiding eye contact with the monster.

A soft beeping caught Y/N’s attention. It came from The Soldier. The assassin growled, annoyed by the sudden interruption but he had work to do. Without saying another word, The Soldier left, leaving Y/N all alone in the abandoned building.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Turns out, Fury was alive and on a long journey to a full recovery. It was apparently better for S.H.I.E.L.D. to believe that he was dead so HYDRA could work at a full scale and risk exposure.

Natasha was patched up and the team was gathered around a table for a briefing. Fury picked up a photo of Alexander Pierce, looking at it with his one eye. “This man declined the Nobel Peace Prize. He said peace wasn’t an achievement, it was a responsibility,” Fury threw the photo on the table, leaning forward. “See, it’s stuff like this that gives me trust issues,” Natasha sighed softly. “We have to stop the launch and find Y/N,”

Fury sighed. “I don’t think the Council’s accepting my calls anymore and as for Y/N, we will find her. It’s only a matter of time until we do so,” The director opened a case, revealing three chips.

“What’s that?” Sam looked down at it. “Once the helicarriers reach 3,000 feet, they’ll triangulate with Insight satellites, becoming fully weaponized,” Maria turned the laptop around. “We need to breach those carriers and replace their targeting blades with our own,” Fury added.

“One or two won’t cut it. We need to link all three carriers for this work because if even one of those ships remain operational, a whole lot of people are gonna die,” Maria sighed softly.

“We have to assume everyone aboard those carriers is HYDRA. We have to get past them, insert these server blades. And maybe, just maybe we can salvage what’s left-,” “We’re not salvaging anything,” Steve cut off.

“We’re not just taking down the carriers, Nick. We’re taking down S.H.I.E.L.D. ,” “S.H.I.E.L.D. had nothing to do with this,” Fury fought.

“You gave me this mission. This is how it ends. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s been compromised. You said so yourself. HYDRA grew right under your nose and nobody noticed. And we still have no way of knowing how to locate Y/N. For all we know, she’s either dead or taken by Bucky,” Steve heaved out a heavy sigh of anger. “Why do you think we’re meeting in this cave? I noticed,”

“How many paid the price before you did?” Steve growled lowly.

Fury looked down and sighed. “Look, I didn’t know about Barnes,” “Even if you had, would you have told me? Or would you have compartmentalized that too? S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA, it all goes,” Fury sighed, deciding it was best to give in. He leaned back on his seat, eye on Steve. “Well, it looks like you’re giving the orders now, Captain. As for Y/N, Hill and I will work on that. We still have some tricks up our sleeves,” Fury nodded to Hill.

Steve looked at Sam and Natasha, nodding. “Then we’ll suit up,”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The Soldier stood on the edge of the building, mind fuzzy and hand twitching. HYDRA electrocuted him, giving him another mind wipe. But this time, it wasn’t easy for a clean wipe. The Soldier had begun his resistance a long time ago. His cerulean eyes took in the colored view of the city. That was something those scientists could never wipe or know and that is The Soldier’s discovery of his soulmate.

The Soldier disappeared from the roof, making his way into the abandoned building. Y/N gulped, eyes widening as she heard heavy footsteps getting closer and closer. She worked her hands quickly, dragging a sharp edge of a broken wood against the rope. She silently cheered when the rope snapped free. The footsteps were close now and Y/N kept her hands to her back.

The Soldier stepped into the room, towering over her seated form. Y/N gripped onto her little weapon, glaring up at The Soldier. He approached her, eyes dark and expression was even darker. “What do you wa--,” Y/N was cut off with a metal arm gripping her arm. The Soldier pulled the agent to her feet, pinning her against the wall. His dark eyes examined Y/N’s features. He needed comfort after what HYDRA did to him again. The torture never stops. It never does. If The Soldier showed signs of disobedience, he’ll get shocked. Any signs The Soldier showed to HYDRA that was related to him being disobedient would get him punished.

The Soldier sought comfort in his soulmate, his nose brushed against the exposed skin on Y/N’s neck. ‘No, this wasn’t supposed to happen!’ Y/N mentally scolded herself. The Soldier felt warm though. But nothing about him smelled good. The Soldier smelled like smoke and gunpowder. Nevertheless, Y/N leaned into The Soldier’s shoulder. ‘What are you doing? You’re free, he’s vulnerable, attack him and run!’ Y/N’s mind reminded her. Shit, it was right. “I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered. She gathered all her strength and shoved The Soldier off her, the assassin grunted in shock as Y/N made a run for it. “Блядь! (Fuck!),” The Soldier growled,  immediately taking off to chase the woman. Y/N looked over her shoulder, eyes widening as the gap between them was closing and it was closing really fast. Y/N turned a corner, almost slipping. She had to find a way out fast. The Soldier was fast on her tail.

Y/N has never felt so much fear in her life. Not even when the Earth was invaded by the Chitauris. She dug into her sleeve, slipping out a small metal ball, and threw it at The Soldier. A bright flash and a deep groan indicated that the assassin was disabled. For now. The route down to the first floor was blocked and it seems like the only way is up. So up did Y/N went. “Soulmate!” The Winter Soldier roared in anger, his thunderous voice echoed throughout the stairwell.

Y/N’s hairs stood on end, looking down to see that The Soldier was climbing up the stairs twice as fast as her. “No, no!”Y/N cried out, trying to reach the upper levels of the building as fast as she could because The Winter Soldier was just a level below her. The frantic woman burst through the roof door, looking over her shoulder. However, when she looked to the front, it was too late. Y/N skidded to a halt, missing the edge of the roof and slipped. She screamed in fear, her hand grabbing the ledge.

(gif credited to the owner. Just The Soldier running)

The building was old, almost crumbling down. The edge of concrete Y/N held broke under her weight, the woman screamed in terror, flailing her arms to try and reach something to save her from the freefall.

Was this the end for Y/N?

[licncourt]

I know you get quite a lot of these but you have any more headcanons about Daniel and Louis' friendship? I just can't get enough of them!

Also what are your opinions about Daniel/Louis as a ship? It's kind of a rarepare but there's something about this ship that I find very appealing, and your headcanons make me ship them even harder.

Have a lovely day and keep being the best vc blog with the best and most correct opinions😘💗

Aside from Louis or Loustat, Daniel & Louis is probably my absolute favorite VC topic of all. I will always be an unshakable Loustat shipper, so I can't really imagine actively putting Louis with anyone else, BUT if I had to like. Pick another ship, it'd be Daniel/Louis. Honestly, I've always been sort of surprised that there isn't a niche of D/L shippers like there are for Lestat/Armand. It's kind of right there and there's so SO much potential material. If someone wants to write it for me I'll happily read it because I wholeheartedly approve of 'fancy 18th century sad vampire/70s stoner man' in any form it's offered.

On that note, I'm positive if Louis had propositioned Daniel at any point in their interview, that boy would've been tripping over his own feet to get that vampire D. If not for Armand, he probably would still be down, though the infatuation has worn off and he's no longer slightly in love. Louis is aware of how bad Daniel wanted to fuck him initially and is very nice about the situation. He's used to it.

In return, Daniel is very nice about Loustat relationship drama. Interview with the Vampire was far from the end. Now it's Weepy Vent Session with the Vampire and it's like. Every Thursday at best. Sometimes more. ("I just don't know if I can do this. It's all so much." "Okay, fine. Dump him." "What?? No! I couldn't!" "Then why the FUCK are we having this conversation again, Louis?")

Daniel gets Louis into a very strange assortment of music. He takes to the expected, but there are enough wild cards that Daniel keeps experimenting on him by offering various records. Most are rejected, but Motorhead (no other hard rock or metal), The Beach Boys, Alanis Morrisette, and Toto (yacht rock is generally a go it turns out) are kept.

Louis attempts the same with books for Daniel and achieves similar results. Most receive an "eh", but Louis is absolutely delighted when he gets a good response to Camus and the absurdist philosophers. He can't seem to replicate the outcome with other genres, but a stoned Daniel is the platonic ideal of a conversation partner for Louis when he's in a philosophical yet chatty mood. This is great news for Lestat.

Daniel really wants to impress Armand (he's feeling a little insecure about his journalism degree in the face of Armand's classical education) so Louis drops everything for a solid week to hole himself up with Daniel and teach him French and Latin (vampire brain allows for maximum efficiency). Unfortunately for Louis, this means he can no longer talk shit about Daniel in French with Lestat during game nights.

Daniel is the first person Louis ever "comes out" to. Obviously he's into men, as evidenced by the...everything. But the first time he manages to verbalize it is alone with Daniel.

When smartphones hit the market, Louis totally helps Daniel win his word and trivia games with Armand. Daniel feeds Louis pop culture facts to stump Lestat. They are cheaters.

He's also the one who finally makes Louis feel comfortable feeding in front of others. Lestat is very supportive, but Daniel never makes a big deal out of it. He just lets Louis tag along on his own hunts. He can join in if he feels up to it or not. Daniel won't say anything or treat him differently either way. Eventually Louis goes from just coming for the social aspect, to snagging the occasional victim out of sight, to taking part every time.

Daniel, vampire or not, still has trouble with his alcoholism. The cravings stay, as does the ability to give into them by finding drunk victims. He has a hard time talking about it in the beginning, but if Armand isn't around, he goes straight to Louis. Louis is actually great at helping given his immense experience comforting certain individuals who refuse to verbalize their feelings or let go of the carefree persona they hold onto for dear life.

Aside from their respective partners, the only people Daniel or Louis ever blood share with is each other. It's a pretty rare occasion, but sometimes it's the last resort for comfort or affection if things are particularly bad, especially if Lestat or Armand is unavailable to help (or if they are the problem du jour). It's part of the reason they're so tightly bonded as much as it is a result of that bond.

[bucky-at-bedtime]

Stucky Fic Recs

So basically I went through all of my ao3 bookmarks and collated a list of some of my favourites (I couldn't fit all of them on this list, so if anyone shows interest there might be a part two).

Please read tags and descriptions of the works before reading, some of them are pretty dark or extremely horny so just make sure you check that the fic is for you!!

Please please please send me your favourite fics in return! I am always happy to hear fic recs, headcanons and any other ideas/comments you all have!

Without any further ado, here are a few of my favourite Stucky fics:

‘Not Easily Conquered’ series by dropdeaddream, WhatAreFear

Rating: M, Words: 117,692

https://archiveofourown.org/series/115516

“I told you, you heard me: I told you never to follow me into Hell. Now I’m not vain enough to think that’s why you’re out here now — if there’s any person in what’s left of this God forsaken planet who’s part of a bigger picture, it’d be you. But I’ll keep saying it until it sticks. You got nothing to prove. I’m not worth much, I damn well know that, but I’ll ask you anyway: Stay for me. If you leave me alone in this world I’ll turn into something terrible. I’ll turn into the nasty creature that’s growing inside me. This war, it’ll swallow me whole”

[To me, this fic is like the classic Stucky 101 fanfic – if you're a Stucky fan and you haven't read this, I highly recommend it. The authors explore the Steve/Bucky relationship in such an interesting, tragic, emotive way and I cry every time I read it. I couldn't praise this work enough.]

‘Ain’t No Grave’ series by spitandvinegar

Rating: M-E, Words: 131,789

https://archiveofourown.org/series/426577

"Yeah, he never calls me by my name," Steve says. "It's always champ, ace, hotshot, that kinda thing."

"Man, that is flirting," Sam says. "That nicknames thing, he is flirting with you. He's just working his way up to calling you baby or something."

Steve goes redder than a damn coke can. Sam pumps his fist. "Yes, I am so right, I am wise as hell. He did, didn't he?"

"He called me sweetheart," Steve says grimly, "because he's a drug addict with brain damage."

"Or because he looooooves you," Sam says. Captain America throws a cookie at his head. Sam eats it, because he deserves a treat for being so damn wise.”

[I'm currently re-reading this fic and absolutely loving it. The way spitandvinegar writes Bucky's road towards recovery and Steve's entire characterisation – it's all just so good. It's another one that covers some pretty dark themes, so make sure you're checkin those tags!]

'Einherjar' by thecommodore_squid

Rating: M, Words: 71297

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7157024/chapters/16249814

But Steve was fine.

Sure, he hadn’t seen Bucky in months, and sometimes he was at the punching bag so long that his skin started to peel off to expose the bones of his fingers, and sometimes he couldn’t find the energy to drag himself out of bed, and sometimes he went weeks without sleeping, and sometimes he thought about throwing himself head-first off the nearest tall structure, but he was fine.

He was absolutely, perfectly, one-hundred percent, fucking fine.

AKA In which Steve learns how to deal with his shit, and Bucky learns how to stop leaving.

[basically the definition of a recovery fic, I absolutely adore it. This is tragic and amazing and makes me cry and smile. It’s got a bunch of fantastic cameos and It really just ticks so many of my boxes.]

‘Like real People do’ by 2bestfriends

Rating: E, Words: 67,775

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19887376/chapters/47103217

“"Ask me what?" demands Bucky. "I didn't hear a question."

Steve licks his lips. "Will you stay with me? Will you come back home, Buck?"

"Home," repeats Bucky in a small voice, and then he's crying for real.”

[Basically soft lumberjack!steve and lonely twink!bucky being horny and in love. This is a comfort fic for that’s really just about my favourite boys falling in love.]

‘This City Bleeds it’s Aching Heart’ by anonymous

Rating: E, Words: 34,537

https://archiveofourown.org/works/835829/chapters/1591736

“The one where Steve and Bucky pose as a happily married couple while on a mission for SHIELD, to catch an international arms dealer hiding in a suburban neighbourhood.”

[The plot in this one is just a good time and i think it’s just a really fun take on the fake relationship trope. Also some really great characterisation.]

‘Home is Wherever I’m With You’ by cydonic

Rating: E, Words: 88,570

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18868081/chapters/44783077

“Bucky kisses Steve and Emma goodbye before they leave for school, which is why – partway down the road – Amelia turns to him and asks, “why are you and Daddy kissing?”

Which is definitely a conversation Bucky’s been expecting since Steve just did it, but it still takes him by surprise. Again, he thinks he should wait for Steve, but Amelia’s not the sort of kid to let anything rest. Plus, Bucky’s taking her to school where she will undoubtedly share the story with anyone who’ll listen.

He also stops to think that Steve’s asked him to stay, which means Bucky must be trusted with their happiness and well-being, at least in some small capacity.

Bucky clears his throat and searches for some explanation that will help Amelia make sense of this sudden turn of events. “Because we love each other,” is all he comes up with.”

[Bear with me, this is a House Flipper!Bucky Au. And dad!Steve. I just love a found family trope I’m not gonna lie to you. Another comfort fic that warms my lil heart.]

‘Lucky Seven’ by BetteNoire (WeAreWolves)

Rating: E, Words: 94,364

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7033105/chapters/16002481

“Back from where--?” James says, the sentence ending in a distinctly undignified squawk as Steve sweeps him up in his arms, bridal-style, and starts carrying him upstairs.

James tenses momentarily then relaxes into Steve's arms and throws back his head and starts laughing. The laughter peals out of him, his body shaking, his amusement occasionally broken by little gasps of pain.

“What's so funny?” Steve frowns.

“You are,” James says, still giggling. “You're ridiculous, Steve Rogers.”

“Behave. Or I will drop you,” Steve growls.

[The shrunkyclunks modern AU of my dreams featuring Mechanic!Bucky and cap!Steve and some really beautiful writing.]

'Dishonor On Your Cow' by mandarou

Rating: E, Words: 111695

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10659162/chapters/23589582

“Sergeant Barnes?”

“Oh, hell no, don’t call him that, man,” Sam warned.

“Captain Fuck Off!” Barnes shouted over him. “Fight me!”

Steve didn’t know whether to laugh or just slink away. He managed to combine the two by pacing two steps and snorting instead. Like a bull.

“I’m gonna need you to calm your ass, Barnes,” Sam said as he went limp again, obstructing Barnes’s struggling under him. “This is so undignified. That is Captain goddamn America.”

“Captain goddamn America!” Barnes repeated, louder. And angrier.

Steve cleared his throat again. “I’ve been looking for you,” he told Barnes.

“I hope you brought lube this time!” Barnes shouted.

[I’m not gonna lie it took me a minute to get into this one but by the end I was crying with them, laughing with them, and just really in my feels. Some very insane things happen so here’s a few of my favourite tags: ‘Seargent Barnes is done with your Shit Steve’, ‘blatant disrespect of a man’s motorcycle’, ‘Steve you ding dong’ and ‘PR nightmares in the form of Supersoldiers’.]

Propietary Information by Notlucy

Rating: E, Words: 85141

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11964402/chapters/27054777

“Okay, so Bucky Barnes has a crush on Steve Rogers. The guy's gorgeous, talented and, oh yeah, the Chief Design Officer of the biggest tech company in the world. In other words: he's so far out of Bucky's league that he might as well be in a different stratosphere.”

[We were never gonna get through this list without a Sugar Daddy!AU (I have a weakness). This one is… saucy and sexy and sweet and uh pretty kinky so read the tags and all. I’ve read it a few times, and I love the way the author has written Steve in this one, he just makes my heart go '!!!']

‘Roots Have Grown’ by AustinB

Rating: M, Words: 17280

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6912451/chapters/15767941

“Bucky is a mildly agoraphobic veteran with funds to spare, who becomes enamored with the cute blonde guy in his building.

So when Steve mentions needing a roommate to cut down on rent costs, Bucky decides it would be a good idea to volunteer.”

[Another weakness of mine is Roommate AUs, and this one is phenomenal. I tend to go for post serum!Steve stories more often, but this is a pre-serum Steve that I just adore.]

‘The Cold Never Bothered me Anyway’ by icoulddothisallday

Rating: E, Words:75562

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11728869/chapters/26425530

“Bucky Barnes has spent his whole life in a state of mild hypothermia. Steve Rogers has spent the last 70 years in the ice. The two things aren’t related until, suddenly, they are. Shrunkyclunks soulmate AU (AKA the awkward bb au).”

[I think this is the only soulmate AU in my bookmarks? I would totally be down to read more though! This one is really fun and really enjoy Bucky’s characterisation here!]

'War, Children' by Nonymos

Rating: E, Words: 106615

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5373050/chapters/12409394

“After Bucky was released from the hospital, it only took him a couple of weeks to give up on himself. Difficult to believe in any kind of future when the simple act of staying alive was almost too big an effort.

Out the frosted window, across the street, there was a tiny homeless guy burrowing under an awning.”

[An interesting exploration of Bucky’s PTSD with a trans!Steve which was a cool take on his character too!]

'The Company You Keep' by orbingarrow

Rating: G, Words: 51191

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3468605/chapters/7613072

“Hurt, hungry, and on the run, the Winter Soldier doesn’t have a lot of safe options to go to for help. Figuring that any friend of Captain Steve Rogers is unlikely to be HYDRA, Bucky takes a chance and reaches out to the first Avenger he can find.

It works out better than anyone could have expected. Eventually.”

[hurt/comfort, recovering Bucky, protective Steve, found family and domestic avengers, need I say more? I absolutely loved this one]

[sanstropfremir]

Thank you so much for your blog - you manage to explain to me a lot of the feelings I have bubbling up these days when I watch kpop so I can finally understand why I do/don’t like something. It’s really nice to have some deeper perspective!

Since you’ve given a lot of your kpop pros and cons, a scenario: someone tomorrow magically puts you in charge of making a new kpop group. What type of people do you look for for the group? What sort of music/dance would you pick? Obviously also what type of fashion would go with it? I’m curious what your theoretical ideal is!

here anon take my whole heart i'm <333333333 sincerely i'm glad that i'm helping people to better articulate and understand how they engage with art!

ok first thing's first, my actual ideal job would be creative director for two midsize sibling groups to do a paired concept. like shinee's view and f(x)'s 4 walls. basically i would like to be min heejin. doesn't have to be two opposite gender groups, it can be two of the same; oneus and onewe could be doing some REAL dope shit, especially because they have actual twins hello rbw do something with them and/or hire me please!! second ideal actual job is to creative direct for a male soloist, someone like taemin, key, or woodz; someone who has good creative instincts and understanding of character and confident sense of self.

ok so ideally, in this fake scenario, i don't think i'd want to design a debut. i'd instead go for a boy group with minimum five-six years of experience and average age of the group is 24-25+. not because young kids aren't springy and spritely, but because they've all settled into their bodies and also have settled into their confidence. i also just don't have the feel for 'youthful' type content, i didn't ever feel young even when i was young so it's always been out of my wheelhouse. gimme a bunch of adults please and thanks.

- as far as makeup of the group: five members, generally all with good dance skills but it's not a must, at least three vocals and one of them HAS to be a baritone. actually, since this is my ideal group you know what? fuck it; three tenors (countertenor optional), baritone, bass. music? either classic rock/opera inspired (something like bad love, maniac, fever, valkyrie (rock version) OR go real crunchy and horrible and americana with it. i'm talking iron smashed together with l'enfer with devil with the beast with idea with jungle with eat raw meat = blood drool with impressionable. we're gonna get real dirty with it. the bside they also promote is gonna be a combo of hypnotized/love on the floor/sugar. there's also solo bsides for each of the members and the main dancer does a blend contemp/urban choreo routine to so handsome hello.

ok styling. this one could go a lot of different ways depending on song and lyrics and theme and truly i don't think there's actually a specific type of styling that i need to see, because my personal methodology is always to come up with something that fits those themes, not necessarily all the things i want to see ever in a styling. but let's do some brainstorming:

- IF classic rock route: since i'm imagining the theme of this as a very aggressive critique of celebrity + fan culture, we're talking a second crack at the fake reality concept and we are doing it RIGHT this time. think that combined with the maniac set design combined with papaoutai combined with this 2019 paper magazine shoot:

yes including the doll makeup. thom browne suiting x the new 2022 moschino:

big boots and square toed shoes, transformative references/silhouettes/shapes/colours from the late 50s/60s thru to the early 70s, plus throwing in some references to to surrealist photography + filmmakers like dora maar and maya deren. honestly maniac got really close to what i was thinking but personally i wouldn't have taken it in the pop culture/horror film direction because that isn't where my brain goes first.

- IF crunchy americana route: this one is a little harder to illustrate because the type of clothing i'm thinking about would be custom handmade builds for each of the performers, but here's some of the vibes i'm thinking about. this would likely be along similar theme lines of a critique of the fan + celebrity relationship, but with a stronger emphasis on the violence inflicted on the celebrity, whether it be from external forces or from internal ones:

yep. would love to do some choreographic/mise en scene stuff with mirrors and the idea of mirroring/things that seem the same but are different. also thorn imagery. lots of thorn imagery.

[lassieposting]

I understand your chronophobia a little better now. You're surrounded by, basically, human dregs. These people deteriorate very quickly because not only are they stupid (=strongly correlates with shit genes overall) they also grossly abuse many different substances, live on microwaved trash, drink alcohol as though it was water, would probably suffocate without some nicotine-infused smoke to inhale... you watch these people looking 50 at 30 and sub-consciously you fear "this could happen to me"

That doesn't help, I guess?

Honestly though I think it goes back to when my mom had to take me to work with her when she was working in a nursing home. I was like...6-8? And I just remember seeing all the ailing old people basically being moved into a communal lounge to stare at the wall all day, then taken back to their rooms. They were just waiting to die. It wasn't the sort of nursing home you moved into of your own accord - it was where your family put you when your care needs exceeded what they could offer because you were Actively Dying. My mom says it was one of the good homes because the nurses didn't mistreat the patients, but they were horrifically understaffed and had like, zero stimulation for the old people. My mom was the tea/snack round lady and a lot of the time she was the only person they'd get to talk to all day, if they were capable of talking at all.

It's. Given me this image of aging as the downhill slide to that. I never want to be in that position. Shitting my pants in an armchair from the 70s and not even realising it, staring at a wall from 8am - 8pm while my brain rots into slush, "speaking" in slurred groans like a zombie, just waiting for it to all be over. It didn't bother me at the time, because I was so little I hadn't realised aging was a thing, but I really think that was the seed of the phobia. Realising that that could happen to me.

[royvalentine]

for the ask meme: since you asked me about zappa i want to return the favor :] youre the Zappa Guy to me so i wanna hear

teehee!

overall opinion of them: favorite little gearman. i treat him like he is some sort of valuable antique (delicate and ornate, valuable, cursed).

gender/sexuality headcanons: bi with a 30-70 preference that changes based off of the alignment of the planets and very, Very nonbinary.

favorite moment in canon: no yeah you were right the president evil drama cd is like peak zappa stuff. also despite it being horrible for him i still think his super hell story path ending in +R is like really funny.

favorite moment in a fanwork: you WILL read @broken-clover 's zapar works NOW NOW DO IT NOW https://tinyurl.com/bdeyb2hw

favorite line: can't think of one off of the top of my head rn (3:30am brain) but all of his shit with randy in the xrd story mode is so funny. why are you two like this.

characters i love seeing them with: pretty much everybody when he actually gets to be himself but i need to give special shoutouts to faust, randy, and slayer, aka The Only People He Does Talk To. i'd like to see him talk with the three kings more because it'd be funny.

last thing before sleeping headcanons: took the advice of "get into a routine before you go to bed so you'll be more tired via muscle memory" (which btw Does Not Fucking Work...) and ran with it; he's got a whole system and everything. unfortunately cannot escape exposed screentime before bed, though. sad.

sleeping habits headcanons: lol wat r those quite possibly the world's lightest sleeper, even without accounting for the pretty much constant nightmares. the slightest noises make him snap awake on instinct, and right away he still goes into panic mode about if he's actually still in bed or not. thankfully he's got somebody to help him out come xrd.

first thing after waking up headcanons: well, mostly second thing after waking up, after all of the nervous habits. he spends a good while hyping himself up every morning before getting dressed and having breakfast (if his nerves and stomach allow it. sadge.) and is definitely better at all of it after The Events.

favorite location headcanons: he's been in so many places for so little time that they mostly blend together, but his tiny little cabin always sticks out. on the other side of things, doesn't like illyria castle as a whole generally at all. shit's too big.

[the-acid-pear]

I didn't want to but my last post got so long Tumblr can't load it AFSGSGAHH so this is my second post bc liveblogging this manga is part of my personality now <3

From where i left,

I love seeing Shibukawa i hate knowing how that fight will go down tho </3

JACKKKK 🥺

Oh is that literally Andre the giant?

MOTOBEEEE 💞

THAT'S RETSU?! GOD I DIDN'T RECOGNIZE HIM AT ALL I-

KUREHA IS BACK TOO NICE

Katou baby you won't last

YESSSSSSSS YES YES YES MY SON.

Yeah and uh, Katsumi whatever.

BABYYYYYYYYY BOYYYYYYYYYY

Poor Kozue on god pugoygpgu

Toba 🥺

Kozue like 😨

Chapter 186

You don't know but like 2 days passed and i actually forgot what was happening VÑVPJOYG

I just remembered that scene in the fairy odd parents movie where the crowd goes OHHH AHHH

WHAT NUT?

I don't want to simp so early in the morning but UGHHH look at him!!

Hey has Baki always been doing the yujiro stand or is this new?

Feel you Mr Andre the giant i too have been told to not use my full strength. Though I'm just 1.60, my power comes from my anger issues and my god given right to kick ass

That's one strong kick

Rip the crowd n Andre the giant

Chapter 187

I don't think that's true Baki boy

That's a big number sir

I really don't care about this fight much at all surudtidkgxkhkdgksr

Poor Kozue man

Okay no apparently all cis men on the comments did want to become the string ???? Get help /j

Chapter 188

This is prob cool if you know who these people are. I unfortunately don't.

Look of bloodlust? He looks like the average fuckboy

YESSS BABEY LET'S GOOO THE GLASSES ARE BACKKK

Me watching the anime: omg that's so random why is he wearing glasses out of nowhere lol?

Me now (my brain is bigger): WOOOOOOOOO

I'm still obsessed with Toba's size

IFYOYDITDPUGPJG

Okay i had to google who igari was bc i wasn't recognizing him, now I'm cheering on him

This is gonna be a good one, hopefully

That was murder

DOPPO POG DOPPO POG-

Chapter 189

Hehehe this title sounds promising 👀

KSJSKSHSJS BRO 🥺

I really can't tell if he's scared of confident, i HOPE he's confident like, he's my pollo afteral (i make that joke in Spanish bc idk how to do it in English 😭)

Nice feet (See? No one can accuse me of having a foot fetish because no one reads these haha!)

I'm not gonna simp for 3 lines straight but i can't just pass this without saying how much i love how Doppo looks in this arc my man looking more precious than usual 😌🥺💞

Shout-out to the ppl in the comments wishing Motobe a happy bday <33

Chapter 190

These men just LOVE breaking fingers don't they?

It was a pleasure knowing you Motobe-san

I must say Doppo first watching the fights with Katou now with his son is like, super damn sweet like this dude is just such a Dad™

Sumo is such a damn cool sport tbh, i watched like one documentary on it once and nothing else but it's just like damn

NOOOUGHHH

MOTOBE IS FUCKING DEAD.

Lshekwhwksgskd someone was mentioning how they make Motobe sound like a badass but he loses every time and someone just responded "He's 50", which is similar to the justification i tried to give myself whenever Doppo kept fucking losing but then you have mfs like Shibukawa who is 70 and is just mad powerful KSVSNSH 😔

Chapter 191

Hehe the king ☺️

THAT WAS SO RANDOM AJGSJSGEJSG i love this mf

FUCK HOW SHORT IS RETSU OMG 🥺

1.76 HE'S SO TINY HE'S SHORTED THAN DOPPO OMFG

also if y'all wonder how I'm doing my jaw is currently trembling and i think i have a fever, but it's fine, we getting to 200 today boys

I really don't care much about Katsumi but he has a very shaped face i won't lie, his eyes are very pretty too. STILL DONT CARE BOUT HIM 🙄😒

They just throwing hands these mfs ffs

Katsumi that's a bit too far don't you think?

A fuckin pussy out sort of luck i see

Chapter 192

I hate smooth Retsu sm let him keeps his face wrinkles ffs

Obsessed with these lads

ANDRE MY MAN look at him

EVERYBODY IS GETTING IN THE WAY FR SPUGPYDOTSÑD

I love how these characters say <3

Fucked up to beat up a wounded man tho NGL :/

OH FUCK HIS ELBOW NO

Chapter 193

Idk man after 180+ chapters Retsu's body doesn't look that wild to me

I know he will lose bc uh, Retsu obviously? But man i really like this Russian

Kozue that's how every match is

Hhhh 😬

He's dead.

Chapter 194

OH MY GOD HIM AGAIN?! HHH FFS!!!

VAMOOOS KATOU

Hey they aren't doing the white lips thing anymore that's sick

Motobe Latino /j

OYFPUTDPUTDPUTDPID

NO MY MAN KATOU IS NO MATCH TO YUJIRO NO ONE IS NOOO 😢

Chapter 195

Monkee

MY BOY BAKI GETTING THAT GOOD OL FLASHBACK HUH BAKI PTSD MOMENCE

YEET

Chapter 196

LSHLSHEKEBSJSHSVS IM LOSING IT

Look at the cocky mf man sjsgdhd

I must say i love the progression of Baki's personality

ANDOOOO

Chapter 197

Katsumi is deranged

My health problems are solved btw

I honestly hope Katsumi wins, for the honor of shinshinkai exclusively

Doppo looks so proud of his son 🥺

These mfs so childish ffs

...how is he that small 😭

I really don't understand any of these people

Chapter 198

I love seeing Toba just around doing shit like yeah king you go. My nostalgia enjoys his presence

Toba king i don't want to see you on a wheelchair please-

Toba baby you are going to die and horrible death and i will hate to be the witness of it

LSHSJSHSKHWKSHS ???

He's dead 😔

SHOUT-OUT TO THE FUCKING ASSHOLE WHO COMPARED TOBA TO THE TERRAFORMARS ROACHES 😭😭💀

Chapter 199

Igari right? He's dead too. I have less doubt than anyone else, Hanayama is a beast.

THEHWHSHHS 😭 WHY DOES HE HAVE TO OPEN BOTTLES LIKE THAT FFS

Different? Idk man he looks the same to me

Chapter 200

Like it's not just brawling man if anyone the size and strenght of Hanayama did anything they would win no matter what, this mf is a beast

THAT'S SO MEAN THEY WERE SUCH BESTIES OUGH MY HEART 😢💔

I'm sorry, he's gonna get WHAT? 😳

Ndhskshskhdkd obsessed

THESE MEN OMFG.... IM LOSING IT

So glad at least SOMEONE is still a bro 😒

HANAYAMA BRO??? IM BETTING ALL MY MONEY ON YOU BRO PLEASE

Obsessed he didn't even realize

THANKS HANAYAMA PHEW I WAS GETTING WORRIED FOR A SECOND THERE!

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

And that's it for tonight, adiós

[queenlua]

You're a druid and an ex-evangelical, right? What does being a druid mean to you? How did you get from evangelicalism to where you are now? And of course feel free to ignore this if it's nosy. (sincerely, a Christian who wants to leave but who doesn't know what to do)

this is going to make me sound ignorant as hell, lol, but i'm happy to share

under a cut because this got very long, sorry, lol.

my personal progression was: "vaguely christian -> VERY christian -> christian agnostic -> agnostic/atheist -> agnostic/druid -> some sorta druid-neopagan-animist thing."  i guess i'll just go through what made me switch between each of those, and close out with some high-level thoughts that may be helpful for you?

okay, so when i was

VAGUELY CHRISTIAN,

i went to Sunday school every week because That's What You Do, and because my whole hometown was very southern Baptist, i never questioned the veracity of its teachings much... until they ran a whole weekly series on "why [x] is wrong," where [x] is some other group

e.g., we had a week on why Mormons are wrong, and i didn't bat an eye because i hadn't even known Mormons existed until that moment

then we had a week on why Muslims are wrong, and that... bothered me, because i had a friend who was Muslim, and she was just objectively a better person than me, and i was like "any universe where she goes to hell and i don't seems really fucked up"

then we had a week on why EVOLUTION was wrong, and that just absolutely threw me, because while i hadn't thought about evolution much (i think i was in fourth grade or so), it seemed common-sense? scientists thought highly of it? "adaptation over time" just seems logical?

so i went to the public library every day after school for like a week, read some Darwin and some science books, and came back to my Sunday school teacher with, like, an itemized list of objections to the whole "evolution is wrong" thing.  and he came up with some standard Answers In Genesis rebuttals, and i did more research and came back the next week with more science, and we repeated this a few times until he was like "lua, you just gotta take some things on faith"

which.  lmao.  full existential crisis time, because no matter how hard i thought, i couldn't *not* believe in the science, but i also didn't want to go to hell, so i was like "maybe if i believe SUPER HARD i will SOMEDAY be able to unbelieve the condemn-me-to-hell bits"

so i decided to become

VERY CHRISTIAN

and my frantic googling for shit like "proof of god" and "god and evolution" *eventually* broke me out of the Answers In Genesis circles of the internet, and into some decent Christian apologia, like, think First Things and various Catholic bloggers.  and there, i found some way to square my gut sense that evolution was right, with a spiritual worldview.

like, i remember finding some blogger who said:

"young earth creationists get tripped up when they try to explain stars that are millions of light-years away, and end up basically arguing that God's tricking us somehow, and—no!  my God lets you believe in the evidence of your eyes, my God does not demand that you make yourself ignorant or stupid, my God expects you to use your brain"

and i just started crying at my computer, because no one had ever said "using your brain is Good and part of God's will," i was like *finally* here's someone who won't tell me i'm going to hell for just *thinking* about things

(st. augustine does a much better riff on a similar theme, fwiw, but i only found him later)

still, it was an uneasy fit, because, the more i learned and read about world history, the more it seemed... weird... that the One And Singular Path To Salvation was... the successor to some niche desert cult... which didn't even occur at the *beginning* of written history, like, it was all predated by that whole Mithraism thing, etc... and like, sure, i could trot out all the standard theological talking points for why Actually This Makes Perfect Sense, but gut-level-wise, the aesthetics just seemed kinda dumb!  and no level of talking myself out of it made that feeling go away!

so at this point i started referring to myself as a

CHRISTIAN AGNOSTIC

i mean, not aloud.  i still lived in southernbaptistopia and i didn't want, like, my hair stylist to tell me i was a horrible person.  but in my *head* i called myself Christian agnostic and it felt right.

and i started church-hopping, which honestly was really fun, would recommend to anyone at any point.  i visited the fire-and-brimstone baptist church, the methodist church, the episcopalians, the universal unitarians, etc.

unfortunately, while this gave me *some* new perspectives, each of the places either had the same shitty theology as my old megachurch (i remember the *acute* sense of despair i felt when i was starting to jive with a methodist church... only for the dumbass youth minister to start going on about evolution), or, they just lacked any sense of the *sacred*.  like, the Church of Christ churches, with their a capella services, *definitely* had it; i felt more God there in one service than i did in a lifetime of shitty Christian rock at the megachurch.  but their beliefs were even *more* batshit, so.  big L on that one.

having failed to find a satisfactory church, i was basically

AGNOSTIC/ATHEIST

by the time i went to college, but honestly pretty unhappy about it; while it was harder than ever for me to actually *connect* with the divine, i didn't like thinking that my previous experiences of the divine were total lies.  because my shitty evangelical church, for all its faults, could not *completely* sabotage the sense of God's presence.  there were real moments in that church where i do believe i experienced something divine.  mostly mediated by one particular youth minister, who in hindsight was the only spiritual teacher in that church who didn't seem a bit rotten inside, but!  it was something!

so when i happened upon a bunch of writings on the now-defunct shii.org (that's the bit that makes me look WILDLY ignorant, lol), i was utterly captivated.

said author was a previous archdruid of the Reformed Druids of North America, an organization that was formed in the 1960s to troll the administration of Carleton College (there was a religious-service-attendance requirement; they made their own religion; their religion had whiskey and #chilltimes for its services).  however, this shii.org dude seemed to take it pretty seriously.  he was studying history of religion and blogged a lot about his studies, both academic and otherwise.  while RDNA had started out as a troll, that didn't mean they hadn't *discovered* something real in the process, he said.

this, already, was going to be innately appealing to me; i've got a soft spot for wow-we-were-doing-this-ironically-but-now-it's-kinda-real? stuff in general.

in particular, shii.org’s discussions on the separation of ritual from belief was really interesting to me: most religions/spiritualities have *both*, but like, you can do a ritual without having the Exact Right Beliefs (if there even is such a thing!), and it can still be useful to you, it can have real power.  (he had a really lovely essay, speculating on the origins of religion as just a form of art, but that essay is now lost to the sands of time, alas.)

(note that i wouldn't really recommend seeking out *recent* writing by the shii.org guy; he kinda went full tedious neoreactionary-blowhard-who-reads-a-lot-of-Spengler at some point?  sigh.)

the shii.org guy led me to checking out a bunch of books on the history of neopaganism & also books by scholars of religion in general, and the more i read, the more excited i became.  and i started doing little ritual/meditation stuff here and there.

then i was fortunate enough to attend some events with Earthspirit (this was when i lived in Boston), which cemented my hippie dalliances into something more real.  the folks there, being from Boston, were all ridiculously overeducated (a sensibility that appeals to me), but also, being the kind of folks who drive out to a mountain in the middle of nowhere for a spiritual retreat, they tolerated a full range of oddities (everyone from aging-70s-feminist-wiccans to living-on-a-farm-with-your-bros-Astaru to dude-who-started-having-weird-visions-and-is-just-trying-to-figure-out-the-deal to Nordic-spiritualist-with-two-phds-from-Scandanavian-universities-on-the-subject, etc), which gave me a lot of room to explore different types of rituals, ceremonies, "magic", etc.

(polytheism in general lends itself well to this sort of easy plurality!  i can believe other people are experiencing something real with their gods, and i can be talking to a totally different set of gods, and that’s just all very compatible, etc)

anyway, i started calling myself

AGNOSTIC/DRUID

around then, because i knew i'd found *something*, something that felt like all the realest moments i'd ever had in nature, and all the realest moments i'd ever had in that shitty megachurch, but i wasn't quite ready to put a theology to it.

but, idk, you do the thing for a while, and you start encountering some things that you may as well call gods, and you realize you're in pretty deep, and you ditch the "agnostic" bit and just throw hands and start describing yourself as

SOME SORTA DRUID-NEOPAGAN-ANIMIST THING

because that's the most precise thing you can muster.  in particular, the druid bit resonates because nature's still very much at the center of my practice; the neopagan bit resonates because i'm not especially interested in reconstructing older traditions or being faithful to any actual pre-Christian traditions, and animist resonates because what i sometimes call gods seem to be tied pretty tightly to the land itself.  it's all very experiential; all this mostly means i'm some weird chick who sometimes grabs a car and drives out someplace very lonely and hikes for a while and does some hippie shit to try and talk with the land or the god or whatever is there.  and sometimes i come back from it changed, or refocused, or what-have-you, and hopefully i'm better for it.  i'm aware this makes me look a little ridiculous, and is an unsatisfying answer, sorry!

WRT YOUR SITUATION

i don't know you or your situation, obviously, but if i wanted to give former-me some advice to save her some angst, i'd say

-> Christendom itself is far wilder and more diverse than many churches lead you to believe.  if you still want to be Christian on some level, and it's just a shitty church that's convinced you the whole project is fucked, i'd honestly explore, i dunno, your nearest Quaker meeting.  they're invoking the Holy Spirit with regularity but they're not raging douchenozzles about it.

-> if you're specifically interested in druidism, i found John Michael Greer's "A World Full of Gods" really nice.  (caveat: Greer has *also* gone full right-wing nutjob these days, sigh, so like.  would not recommend a great swath of his writing.  but that one's good)

-> deciding that a just God wouldn't give me a brain and then ask me not to use it was hugely comforting to me.  like, that was the start of the whole process, that was what made me feel ok searching for other churches and trying to find something that fit.  obviously you should take this with 800 grains of salt, because obviously i'm no longer Christian, and thus maybe i'm just some poor misguided fallen soul, but... i still kinda believe that!  maybe if you can make yourself believe that, it'll seem less scary?

idk, happy to answer more questions, sorry for the long ramble, hope it helped~

[kbstories]

impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, First Impressions, Slice of Life, Character Study

No additional content warnings apply. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

Kirishima Eijirou had stared at the grin on Bakugou’s face when he pulled the pin in his gauntlet and thought: Holy shit, this guy is insane.

Over multiple screens, a good chunk of Ground β went up in a blast so strong the floor trembled with its aftershocks even here, miles away. Concrete and steel and glass were incinerated in a gust of fire and debris until all that was left was Midoriya’s crumpled form amidst plumes of smoke and Bakugou standing tall in the ruins.

The cameras shorted out once, twice before the image stabilized; the transmission remained silent. There was no sound needed to see how Bakugou���s grin got an edge sharper in the wake of the explosion.

Insane and absolutely deadly.

It wasn’t Kirishima’s first impression of him, per se. Certainly he’d had some sort of reaction to the only name ranked above his own after the Entrance Exams and the total sum of zero rescue points listed beside it. He can even remember the twinge of something in his chest after seeing that infamous quirk in action on day one – be it awe or envy or plain curiosity, that innocent question of How does it work, though? that accompanies most encounters with a new power.

Still: In those first few days, when Kirishima thinks of Bakugou Katsuki, he thinks of the mad glint in his eyes as he went above and beyond in his attempt to murder their classmate (or seriously maim him, at the very least).

In hindsight, having him play the villain was perhaps less coincidence and more fate, given the optics of what could reasonably be described as a shitshow. And, okay, Kirishima knows it’s not exactly fair to judge someone based solely on fleeting observations. His parents taught him better than that. Crimson Riot showed him better than that. It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.

Endure and overcome, just like any other obstacle looming over the difficult path ahead. Kirishima smiles around the pencil he’s chewing on as Aizawa drones on, eyes trained on the uniquely tense set of shoulders across the room.

Yeah. Bakugou won’t even stand a chance.

*

It takes many cold shoulders, rebuffed lunch invitations and countless glares – and a villainous intervention Kirishima could’ve honestly lived without – for a rough voice to say:

“You there. Shark Teeth.”

The sun is starting to peek into the room as it hangs low and lazy in the sky. Class 1-A has just been released into a well-deserved weekend: Kirishima is very much aware his mothers want him home as fast as possible after what happened at U.S.J., and he’s throwing his things into his bag at peak velocity. Only after a tap on his shoulder and a subtle nod from Sero does he register it’s him Bakugou is talking to.

Perhaps ‘growling at’ would be a better description, but… semantics. Kirishima throws the guy a look and a smile over his shoulder either way, “Hey! What’s up, man?”, and given Bakugou’s eyes only narrow a little, he’s about 70% sure he’s not done something to land on his shit list.

Yet.

All Bakugou does is direct a decidedly less neutral look towards Sero, who jolts and stumbles over a quick “Um. Gotta– Yup, okay, bye!” before he books it out the classroom. Kirishima watches him go with some bemusement and a muttered “Dude”, not that Bakugou reacts to it in any way.

“Spar with me”, Bakugou says instead – demands, really – and Kirishima feels his brows tick upwards before he can stop himself, hands pausing in his quest to cram his notepad next to his books without wrinkling its cover page too badly.

“Uh. Like, right now? ‘Cause I can’t. Well, I could but I’m about to miss my train as is and I’d have to tell my–”

A slow blink, and even that is threatening when it’s coming from Bakugou. “No, asshole. This weekend, or something. I don’t care.”

Oh. Kirishima blinks. Something about Bakugou approaching him out of his own free will must be causing a substantial lag between different areas of his brain because– Oh.

“Wait. You wanna hang out?”

Maybe he could’ve hidden the clear surprise in his voice a bit better, that emphasis on you that sort of slipped in there without him really wanting it to. Kirishima’s heart sinks at the twitch to Bakugou’s brow that pretty much guarantees whatever he actually meant to say is forever lost to the ire perpetually simmering in that red gaze.

Well, it was nice knowing what going to U.A. is like. At least none of his classmates are present to see Kirishima’s inevitable – if incredibly untimely – demise.

Then Bakugou… rolls his eyes, exhales a harsh tch for good measure. “Whatever.” He shoves his bag further up his shoulder and, without a glance back, walks out the room–

Oh no, you don’t.

Out of all foolish thoughts it’s that one that shoots through Kirishima’s head before he grabs his stuff and goes after him. Bakugou somehow manages to maintain that no-fucks-given air to his gait despite how fast he walks, and Kirishima falls into a light jog to close the gap.

“It’s a great idea, man. Can’t have us going soft over the weekend! Plus Ultra, just like All Might said, right?”

Bakugou gives him a withering glance of a side-eye for his trouble. Kirishima notes the distinct lack of explode-y manslaughter, though, and allows himself to settle right into Bakugou’s pace.

“Besides, it’s been like a week and we’re already having villains crashing our lessons. I mean, we showed ‘em what’s what and all, but still! Some extra training can’t hurt.”

It’s not like Kirishima minds being the one to carry a conversation yet the fact that he hasn’t been told to shut up is… something? Not enough for Kirishima to point out, it’s just a thing he notices, just something, so he keeps talking. Past U.A.’s gates, down the stairs and onto the busy sidewalk they go, and Bakugou’s hands never leave the pockets of his pants as he marches past clusters of people in an unflinching line.

Head held high, eyes dead ahead. Cutting through the crowd with his presence alone, and in his wake Kirishima follows.

The afternoon light is hitting that glow-y hue that paints even the most mundane of things in shades of gold when Kirishima realizes they’re headed to the train station. He draws up short, slows his step in the split-second it takes to ask himself if the other even takes the train home or–

Bakugou’s eyes are on him, “What?”, that one word barked so impatiently Kirishima throws the thought right out the metaphorical window and keeps walking.

“Nothing!” A flash of his home screen proves: Five minutes left. They’re making good time. Which, actually– “So what time were you thinking for our sparring sesh? I’m good whenever, unless it’s super late at night. Overprotective parents, you know how it is.”

That gets a huff out of Bakugou. That, and a gesture that’s sort of a grab, sort of a wave that has Kirishima a little stumped until Bakugou sighs gruffly. “Your phone, dumbass.”

“Oh, sure! Here.”

The device changes hands. Kirishima contemplates feeling embarrassed about the obvious crack that takes up half the screen; he’d designed his hero costume without his delicate tech in mind, and with the whirlwind of starting and then surviving week one of the new school year, he hasn’t been able to spare a minute to get neither the phone fixed nor the costume amended.

Bakugou doesn’t comment on it – in fact, he pulls his sleeve down to hold the thing as if to cushion it, and when he taps the screen it’s with his knuckles. Before Kirishima can ask, the pre-installed voice control AI chirps its distinct jingle and Bakugou tells it to make a new contact, rattling off a long string of numbers.

Even before the AI has confirmed the input, Kirishima is catching the phone chucked rather carelessly at his head. “There”, Bakugou says, starting to climb the stairs to the tracks two steps at a time.

Kirishima doesn’t have much time to process any of that before the telltale rattling of an incoming train sounds above them. “Oh shit”, he breathes, hurrying onto the platform and to the closest door just in time to see the last passenger get out. Once inside, he pumps his fist.

“Hell yeah! Dude, we–”

The person next to him, who is not Bakugou, looks rather startled. What the…? Kirishima turns a full 360 degrees before a knock just inches from his face startles him and he meets Bakugou’s smirk, firmly on the other side of the window.

Not a moment later, the train starts pulling away. Kirishima presses close to the thick, faintly scratched glass to watch Bakugou turn and walk right back where they came from. His hand is raised, the light catching white and glinting on something in his hand.

A phone. Oh, right!

Kirishima swipes across an image of Crimson Riot’s iconic pose to unlock and reads Bakugou Katsuki, having left the tab open in his haste. First things first: With a soft snort and a few swift taps, the name is changed before Kirishima hits the speech bubble icon next to it.

Baku💣💥

bro what the hell (sent 17:14)

but thanks (sent 17:14)

it’s kirishima btw (sent 17:15)

just text me the details whenever 💪🏻 (sent 17:15)

He watches the tick next to his messages turn blue almost immediately and waits. One station passes, then two. By the third Kirishima is sure he’s been left on read and laughs, shaking his head. Of course.

The rest of his way home is spent assuring Sero he has not, in fact, exited life in a flurry of explosions as well as letting his moms know he’ll be home in a few. The next time Kirishima checks his phone is between brushing his teeth and climbing into bed, two unread messages waiting for him.

Baku💣💥

[link] (received 19:35)

6AM tomorrow, don’t be fucking late (received 19:35)

The link leads to a location which his phone matches to a quirk-friendly gym pretty close to the U.A. grounds. Kirishima scrolls through a few images of the facilities with some interest before his brain registers–

6AM. On a Saturday.

Baku💣💥

/dude/ (sent 22:08)

srsly?? (sent 22:09)

😩😩 (sent 22:19)

f @ my sleep schedule but ok (sent 22:25)

Minutes later, Kirishima stares at the near-painful sight of an alarm set to 5AM before he sighs and flops face-down into his pillow. The things he does in the name of friendship.

>>Chapter 2