#this was so sad to write

[via-l0ve]

piggy backing off of the second to last anon,- how would the guys react in the acting au where reader died in supernatural verse but their actor visits set so they see them how would they react?

“it’s you.” (SPN pref!)🩷

a/n: this is so sad omg. i loved writing this. i didn’t do preferences but more of a little blurb for each boy <3 (not crowley i’m sorry x7)

warnings: angst, mentions of death

Dean:

when he sees you, his world stops spinning. He knows it’s you. your hair, your eyes, your lips. the same ones he remembered kissing so many times. it’s you, and dean knows it. but it can’t be. how could you be back.

he’s so zoned out that he dosent realize you’re now standing right in front of him.

“hey.” you smile

and god, that smile. the one he never got to see again - it was almost enough for him to break down right then and there. but he had to talk to you.

“h-hey.” he said, his voice barely audible.

“you okay?” you asked him, looking into his eyes and seeing the anxiety and distress.

he was quiet for a moment.

“uh… weird day.” he said shakily.

you frowned and moved closer, embracing him.

your scent. your body. your face tucked into his shoulder. he got to hold you again. he got to see you. it’s you. he can’t hold back the tears. soft sobs come from his mouth as he holds you against him.

“i’m sorry.” he whispered.

“hey it’s okay. don’t apologize. it’s okay to cry.” you whisper back, rubbing his arms.

but that’s not why he was apologizing. he was sorry he let you down. he was so so so sorry that it was you and not him that had to go.

he shook, his grip tightening on your clothes.

“i miss you.” he uttered.

“aw. you do?”

“so much.”

but then you’re called to set, to observe a scene. and he has to let you go for the second time. he has to say goodbye.

—

Sam:

sam dosent move a muscle when he sees you. he just looks. admires. he sees you laughing with one of the directors and he knows it’s you.

He walks the other way. even though he knows how badly he wants to talk to you, hear you, feel you again, it would just hurt him more. he watches you from a distance, smiling when you smile.

you’re full of life again. the same shine in your eyes, the same excitement in your voice… the same y/n. but he knows it’s not you. he knows he can never have you.

Before you leave set for the night, Sam calls you over.

“hey… can i talk to you?” he asks you, choking back tears.

“yeah of course! what’s up?” the same smile he always loved.

“i just… i miss you.” he whispers.

you give him a look.

“miss me?” you ask with a smile. “you see me every day.”

if only, he thought.

“yeah, i know. it uh… it just feels more than that.” he said, eyes studying your face.

he pulls you into a hug.

“i’ve just been having a hard time.” and it wasn’t a lie. losing you in his world was life altering. and now, seeing you but not.. you, just made all the pain come back.

“i’m sorry jared.” a sting of pain goes through him. he couldn’t even hear you say ‘Sammy’ for a last time.

“i’m here for you. always will be.” another sting of pain rushes through him, because you won’t be. as soon as he goes back, he’ll have to learn to live without you again.

you pull away, smiling.

“i’m gonna go home. i’m exhausted. text me if ya need me.” you smiled, letting go of him and walking out.

he just watches, silent tears falling again.

—

Castiel:

Castiel goes into shock. why would the angels bring you back? which angel did it? it wasn’t him.. he couldn’t have even if he had the chance.

he watches you from a distance. is this a dream? where was he? how are you back?

he watches you talk to another woman with curious eyes. he can feel the pang in his heart overflow and he knows he wants to talk to you. but if he does.. will this be all a dream? will he awake from this obvious hallucination?

he walks over to you, slowly and timidly.

you look at him and he finds himself looking at your lips. the same smile lines he remembered, the same soft freckles that were only visible if you looked close.

it was you.

he walked faster, engulfing your body in a hug. neither of you spoke as he felt your body in his arms again.

“you okay?” your voice breaks him out of his trance.

“yes..yes i’m fine.” he says, pulling away and studying your face again. his hand reached up and cupped your cheeks in both of his warm palms.

you put your hands over his.

he feels the familiar feeling of you again. god.. he couldn’t let you go.

“are you sure?” you ask him softly.

he nods.

“are… are you okay?” he asks you, choking down some tears.

“yeah. i’m okay.” you smile.

even though he knows it’s not you, it fills him with a sense of peace. you, in this universe at least, are okay.

“i…i am missing you. at home.” he whispers again.

and even though you have no clue what he’s talking about, you hug him again, rubbing his back as he lets the tears fall.

he has to start from square one all over again. leaving you. getting over it.

[northernglorie]

♛ → THE NORTH present(s) GLORIE BOLTON, the LADY of DREADFORT. when the dragons danced in the sky they thought the BLACKS would still fly, but in the blink of an eye, they would all die. the TWENTY-SIX year old FEMALE who was SELF-RELIANT & ENERGETIC before they saw the first of the flames, is now SUSPICIOUS & CALCULATING after seeing the last. they’re often associated with the slow twist of a knife in the back, bright lights hindered by darkness, and strings of a bow wound too tight . ( bruna marquezine )

✦Being born the youngest of the Boltons wasnt equivalent to being the weakest to Glorie. From the moment she made her way into the world, kicking and screaming, her presence at Dreadfort was one to be reckoned with. She was a daring, energetic child who gravitated more towards the company of her brothers than her sister. Although her mother assured she possessed all the hallmarks of a proper lady, she'd spend as much time in their presence as possible until they were warded elsewhere.

✦With more time available to shape her into the perfect lady, Glories mother began shifting her focus to things she'd neglected in the presence of her older brothers. Resistant at first, Glorie found interest in the colorful patterns of imported garments and catching attentions of the young men around Dreadfort, like that of her future husband Ryon Ryswell.

✦Unions between Boltons and Ryswells were a second nature then. With their lord as one of her fathers closest friends and confidantes, the marriage was arranged before the two had even been born and for that, Glorie would be eternally grateful. They'd gotten the chance to grow up together, to know the names of every skeleton the other had hidden in their closets before vowing to each other. A gift that not many are blessed with and they took full advantage of their time together, save having a child. It didn't seem as important to them in the moment. They were both the youngest of their houses, neither an heir to anything but the land they had and the life they led together.

✦Three years never felt like enough for Glorie, not when her future with Ryon was reduced to just that. She sat by his bedside for days when the illness struck. Cold compresses to his forehead for the fever and consulting with whomever had the best cures only kept him with her for a week. Her first taste of loss in the form of her true loves passing is the one that stays with her to this day.

✦ Return to the Dreadfort saw an unusually sympathetic father. The youngest Bolton had no need to carry her head in sorrow, 'you did everything right.' he assures her, hands cupped tightly around tear-stained cheeks. Its the one time he'd shown a sign of softness and sometimes when she feels her lowest, she can almost feel them there to comfort her as he did that day. His loss was among the most devastating to her, and learning of the true nature of his death has only cut into that wound deeper.

✦ The grief wouldn't stop at their father, though. When the news came of Mayara's passing, Glorie became numb. Gone was the animated personality she was barely clinging onto. Pessimism became second nature, as she felt that the people she loved most were being taken from her one by one.

✦There was little left for her to cling to until Domeric was named Lord. He took her under his wing, teaching her what it meant to be a ruler of a hold. The title of heir was hers, even if it might be taken by some curly-haired toddler one day. She had something to look forward to and her skills as mistress of coin were where her attentions were now focused. For a while things made sense and she was content, but she should have known better. The right cards always seemed a single draw away for Glorie and the revelation of Domerics parentage was just another wasted hand.

✦She can't remember seeing so much chaos. Whose side does one choose when a once tight-knit family is at war? She begs the now ruling Lord to take pity on her mentor. He's still their brother, bastard or not, but no one listens to the voice of woman within the walls of the Dreadfort. The only people to grant Glorie that privilege are either dead or marked for it and in a last ditch effort to save them, she helps Domeric and their mother escape.

✦Watching another take the deat that was meant for her creates turmoil, albeit one-sided. The main focus is rebuilding from the shame brought on by the lineage catastrophe, and she's certain that leaves her in a vulnerable position.

[mischievous-thunder]

When you meet someone so beautiful that you forget to utter proper coherent sentences

[tofixtheshadows]

I've been thinking a lot lately about how Kabru deprives himself.

Kabru as a character is intertwined with the idea that sometimes we have to sacrifice the needs of the few for the good of the many. He ultimately subverts this first by sabotaging the Canaries and then by letting Laios go, but in practice he's already been living a life of self-sacrifice.

Saving people, and learning the secrets of the dungeons to seal them, are what's important. Not his own comforts. Not his own desires. He forces them down until he doesn't know they're there, until one of them has to come spilling out during the confession in chapter 76.

Specifically, I think it's very significant, in a story about food and all that it entails, that Kabru is rarely shown eating. He's the deuteragonist of Dungeon Meshi, the cooking manga, but while meals are the anchoring points of Laios's journey, given loving focus, for Kabru, they're ... not.

I'm sure he eats during dungeon expeditions, in the routine way that adventurers must when they sit down to camp. But on the surface, you get the idea that Kabru spends most of his time doing his self-assigned dungeon-related tasks: meeting with people, studying them, putting together that evidence board, researching the dungeon, god knows what else. Feeding himself is secondary.

He's introduced during a meal, eating at a restaurant, just to set up the contrast between his party and Laios's. And it's the last normal meal we see him eating until the communal ending feast (if you consider Falin's dragon parts normal).

First, we get this:

Kabru's response here is such a non-answer, it strongly implies to me that he wasn't thinking about it until Rin brought it up. That he might not even be feeling the hunger signals that he logically knew he should.

They sit down to eat, but Kabru is never drawn reaching for food or eating it like the rest of his party. He only drinks.

It's possible this means nothing, that we can just assume he's putting food in his mouth off-panel, but again, this entire manga is about food. Cooking it, eating it, appreciating it, taking pleasure in it, grounding yourself in the necessary routine of it and affirming your right to live by consuming it. It's given such a huge focus.

We don't see him eat again until the harpy egg.

What a significant question for the protagonist to ask his foil in this story about eating! Aren't you hungry? Aren't you, Kabru?

He was revived only minutes ago after a violent encounter. And then he chokes down food that causes him further harm by triggering him, all because he's so determined to stay in Laios's good graces.

In his flashback, we see Milsiril trying to spoon-feed young Kabru cake that we know he doesn't like. He doesn't want to eat: he wants to be training.

Then with Mithrun, we see him eating the least-monstery monster food he can get his hands on, for the sake of survival- walking mushroom, barometz, an egg. The barometz is his first chance to make something like an a real meal, and he actually seems excited about it because he wants to replicate a lamb dish his mother used to make him!

...but he doesn't get to enjoy it like he wanted to.

Then, when all the Canaries are eating field rations ... Kabru still isn't shown eating. He's only shown giving food to Mithrun.

And of course the next time he eats is the bavarois, which for his sake is at least plant based ... but he still has to use a coping mechanism to get through it.

I don't think Kabru does this all on purpose. I think Kui does this all on purpose. Kabru's Post Traumatic Stress Disorder should be understood as informing his character just as much as Laios's autism informs his. It's another way that Kabru and Laios act as foils: where Laios takes pleasure in meals and approaches food with the excitement of discovery, Kabru's experiences with eating are tainted by his trauma. Laios indulges; Kabru denies himself. Laios is shown enjoying food, Kabru is shown struggling with it.

And I can very easily imagine a reason why Kabru might have a subconscious aversion towards eating.

Meals are the privilege of the living.

[lazylittledragon]

made a sticker for anyone to slap onto their work if they need to

[tswkento]

whether he’s in the middle of a heated argument or being pissed at something out of his control, nanami won’t ever yell. he doesn’t see any point in it and he doesn’t enjoy the sound of his voice raising, so why would he.

arguments with you always end in a calm conversation even if initially you do yell, unable to keep it in yourself, and it’s okay because it’s a clear indication for nanami to stop whatever the hell was going on and show you that he was really trying to understand you, but was having a hard time.

and the only time kento is seen yelling is when you put yourself in danger.

it’s like he can’t control himself; the fear in him controls him, stepping on every single thing that’s sensitive and fragile, and kento’s mouth opens before he can think about his words properly. his trembling arms grip your shoulders and his usually impassive gaze is wide open in unfiltered terror as if he is trying to make you feel whatever he is feeling.

and the way you stare back at him; with your mouth slightly agape and a vaguely distant, almost foggy look in your eyes as you wheeze with every breath you take.

and he continues drilling you about how stupid your decision was, how you even dared to do something like that when he’s right there, how could you be so reckless — in the middle of an abandoned warehouse with slowly dissolving curse plasma and the faint sound of street ambiance being disrupted by his harsh voice.

he closes his mouth shut only when your weak voice joins his, a small, broken chirp as you start shaking in his hands, “‘m sorry, kento—”

the rage in him dissipates and he lets go of you, the thought of his fingers leaving bruises on you making him step away in fear of hurting even more. he rubs his face roughly as he looks around with newfound wariness, noting his glasses and weapon laying on the concrete surface just like they were when he threw them away in order to get to you.

nanami turns back just in time with your knees giving out; able to catch you and hoist you up against his sturdy body as his worried gaze roams over your features, brain trying to muster up something good enough to calm down your disturbed mind.

your tearful eyes meet his and nanami lets out a shaky exhale as he blinks away the unwanted memories of people he’s let go of in the past decade.

“i apologise for my outburst, i just—” he swallows through the dryness in his mouth, hugging you closer to himself. “i can’t see you die. i wouldn’t be able to take it.”

[pookieace]

✰ . . . minors do not interact !

gojo and you fucking in missionary makes him dangerously sensitive as it is because he feels so much love as he looks down at you. how pretty you look, how a layer of sweats coats your skin. how your hair is a mess after multiple rounds. how you’re reaching out and grabbing at any part of his body for some form of stability while he fucks your cunt. he can see how you two are a mess where you both join, splatters of your wetness and white sticky remnants of his from previous rounds. you look so stunning. so so so beautiful.

he’s on the verge of cumming every second when you fuck missionary. he adores how he can see you flutter your eyes open and look so fucked out but still gaze at him with love. he gets even more sensitive the second you run your fingers through his undercut. he's groaning, hips faltering as he visibly shivers. feeling the pads of your fingers against his undercut is one thing but feeling your nails against them? that's another. three more thrusts and he's got his balls flushed against you, letting them drain, emptying them right into you.

[ribbittrobbit]

these kids are incredibly stressed out

[howlsnteeth]

24/05/2020

[arggghhhsstuff]

forever obsessed with percy being weird. off-putting. strange even. a cryptid maybe. an urban legend if I may. my boy is the son of one of the oldest, most powerful gods, has been in FBI's records since the age of twelve, fought and won two wars against immortal beings, went to hell and back. I think he's allowed to be a little odd.

[matchamiko]

Teaching Dabi how to eat pussy the way you like it but he’s so desperately sloppy and messy about it that you just hump his face with one hand gripping his hair and the other tight on your own throat.

He’s inexperienced, mostly, he doesn’t give often if not at all to the partners he’s had in the past, few and far between; but then you came along and all of a sudden he’s offering and begging and demanding. He’s so used to seeing pussy eating in porn, in magazines that he’s got no rhythm, no method, no thought behind his guzzling and slurping and biting. So when you anchor yourself to him with a frustrated little whine, lifting your hips and grinding smoothly and sweetly against his tongue and his nose; Touya swears sees new colours and hears new sounds. The wet click of your cunt against his lips and chin, the shuddering of your thighs either side of his head, your mumbles and gasps against your constricted throat, and your encouraging praises of him just staying right there, just like that Touya. He cums loud and wet as he looks up at you through his lashes, half angry that you’re not teaching him like you said but half insane over the state of you, using him to your heart’s content.

[astearisms]

fionna and cake drawings before and after watching the episodes so far. it’s nostalgic and somehow cathartic and poignant and relatable and—it just started

[independent-fics]

Now, you can take that as a gift, or you can take it as a curse. And that's up to you.

Eliot Spencer and Parker Doing the Things Others Won’t

Leverage (2008-2012)

04x01 The Long Way Down Job

05x09 The Rundown Job

[tarabyte3]

Hey fanfiction writers: If no one's ever told you this before, it's not just fanfiction.

It's something you spent hours, days, maybe even months on, pouring your heart out onto a page because you were so full of passion and thoughts about a story or characters, you felt like you were going to explode if you didn't get it out. Maybe you lost sleep because your mind was racing with ideas or you forgot to eat or drink water because you were so focused. Maybe your back aches from being hunched over for so long, unmoving. Maybe you even felt like you were going a little feral because you were so excited about what you were creating, or were frustrated when you got stuck. Either way, you put your heart, mind, soul, and body into making something.

It's okay to want people to read it, and it's okay if you're disappointed that they don't or it doesn't get as much of a reaction as you were hoping for. Humans are social creatures. Sure, we write for ourselves, but we also share because the joy of doing so is just as powerful as the joy of the process. Of having created something.

We all experience that joy and that disappointment, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

So it's okay. It's not just fanfiction.

[drenched-in-sunlight]

family tea party.

(in my mind, Radagon is the pure Order with no kindness half, and he always yearns to converge with Marika + be on equal footing with her, so in my drawing he’ll always be kinda nuts)

[choccy-milky]

sometimes you gotta lure your overly-studious ravenclaw gf into spending time with you 🥰 📚 ( from 'Every Teardrop is a Waterfall' by Kat_12739 on ao3, GO READ IT!!! the first story is about seb falling sick and still pushing himself/not admitting he's sick until he ends up in the hospital, the second story is about the birth of seb and clora's daughter and seb's reaction to clora almost dying in childbirth, and the third is about dealing with a fussy newborn lewis😭🥹THEY'RE SO GOOD AND SWEET AND SOMEWHAT SAD (not to mention beautifully written) so go check it out!!💖💖 )