#to all the other messages in my inbox I have NOT forgotten about you and I am working on something for everyone pls know that

[maxybabyy]

I love how you write your girl!Max lestappen fics (and lestappen in general)! Do you have any plans for them? x

hi friend 🧡

this is so nice to hear and I’m so glad you like it! girl!max does live rent free in my head, so there will probably be more at some point.

I do have a lestappen girl!max fic outlined in the docs that I wanna write but a lot of the plot points focus on the 2021 season and are a bit outdated now 😔 but here is a small snippet for you

The drink is still sweating in her hand when someone comes up behind her.

She shivers at the touch to her side, the body heat bleeding through her thin dress where he’s pressed almost to her back. The bar isn’t full, but still she scoots to the side to make room and watches the arm follow her, strong and tanned where it rests on the bar.

There’s a faint tan line from a watch, soft brown hairs that probably would be soft to the touch.

Maybe if she hadn’t spent the day surrounded by men who didn’t think she would fit in the car because of her hips, her tits, Max would have pressed into the touch and found out how it felt wrapped around her body.

But her patience is almost gone, and so is her drink.

The ice cubes clink in her glass as she puts it down. The bartender must know she’s ready to bolt because he approaches with a look of apprehension, nervous hands wringing a washcloth between idle fingers. She ignores the back and forth in French and bends down for her jacket when suddenly –

“Can I have another beer please? What she is having also, merci.”

Max looks from her jacket on the floor to the bartender, and maybe it hadn’t been apprehension on his face after all. Maybe Max just sucks at facial expressions.

Her eyes follow tan skin down to his fingers, to the rings she should have recognised, the hangnail he had complained about after biting off. Even his scent reminds her of the track now, and she doesn’t know how she hadn’t known.

“I will of course have a vodka red bull, thank you.”

Charles whines and suddenly the touch of his arm is gone. “No, this I will not pay for.”

Max leans an elbow on the bar with a smile. She licks her lips and doesn’t know how to feel when Charles’ eyes turn just a shade darker, hazy probably with drink. “Then I will have a triple shot of vodka and a can of red bull also.”

“No, Max. You are being so stupid,” Charles tells her. He stands closer to the bar to point at the drinks menu, his front pressed almost entirely against her back. He’s warmer like this, and Max finds she doesn’t mind it, how his sweat-damp shirt sticks to her skin where the back of her dress dips low.

She feels the weight of his gaze on her face even as he says, “She will of course have a gin and tonic, please.”

“Always if you are trying to flirt, you should not do this, Charles. It is I think very rude,” Max tells him and ignores how her cheeks feels warm to touch, flushed with heat.

“I did not know – “ he says, and Max has always liked how indignant he sounds like this. He leans against the bar so only his knee rests against the outside of her thigh. “Also Max, do not lie to me, you do not drink vodka red bulls. This is ridiculous.”

Max sips her drink and shrugs, “If you are paying –“

Charles nudges the empty tumbler by her hands, “You think I would not buy this for you? Is it like this, whiskey?”

She should tell him probably that she likes the gin and tonic better, but she likes how the pout looks on his face, how the pressure of his knee has become more insistent.

“How about you win a race and then of course you can buy it for me,” she tells him instead.

The drink is still sweating in her hand when someone comes up behind her.

She shivers at the touch to her side, the body heat bleeding through her thin dress where he’s pressed almost to her back. The bar isn’t full, but still she scoots to the side to make room and watches the arm follow her, strong and tanned where it rests on the bar.

There’s a faint tan line from a watch, soft brown hairs that probably would be soft to the touch.

Maybe if she hadn’t spent the day surrounded by men who didn’t think she would fit in the car because of her hips, her tits, Max would have pressed into the touch and found out how it felt wrapped around her body.

But her patience is almost gone, and so is her drink.

The ice cubes clink in her glass as she puts it down. The bartender must know she’s ready to bolt because he approaches with a look of apprehension, nervous hands wringing a washcloth between idle fingers. She ignores the back and forth in French and bends down for her jacket when suddenly –

“Can I have another beer please? What she is having also, merci.”

Max looks from her jacket on the floor to the bartender, and maybe it hadn’t been apprehension on his face after all. Maybe Max just sucks at facial expressions.

Her eyes follow tan skin down to his fingers, to the rings she should have recognised, the hangnail he had complained about after biting off. Even his scent reminds her of the track now, and she doesn’t know how she hadn’t known.

“I will of course have a vodka red bull, thank you.”

Charles whines and suddenly the touch of his arm is gone. “No, this I will not pay for.”

Max leans an elbow on the bar with a smile. She licks her lips and doesn’t know how to feel when Charles’ eyes turn just a shade darker, hazy probably with drink. “Then I will have a triple shot of vodka and a can of red bull also.”

“No, Max. You are being so stupid,” Charles tells her. He stands closer to the bar to point at the drinks menu, his front pressed almost entirely against her back. He’s warmer like this, and Max finds she doesn’t mind it, how his sweat-damp shirt sticks to her skin where the back of her dress dips low.

She feels the weight of his gaze on her face even as he says, “She will of course have a gin and tonic, please.”

“Always if you are trying to flirt, you should not do this, Charles. It is I think very rude,” Max tells him and ignores how her cheeks feels warm to touch, flushed with heat.

“I did not know – “ he says, and Max has always liked how indignant he sounds like this. He leans against the bar so only his knee rests against the outside of her thigh. “Also Max, do not lie to me, you do not drink vodka red bulls. This is ridiculous.”

Max sips her drink and shrugs, “If you are paying –“

Charles nudges the empty tumbler by her hands, “You think I would not buy this for you? Is it like this, whiskey?”

She should tell him probably that she likes the gin and tonic better, but she likes how the pout looks on his face, how the pressure of his knee has become more insistent.

“How about you win a race and then of course you can buy it for me,” she tells him instead.

The drink is still sweating in her hand when someone comes up behind her.

She shivers at the touch to her side, the body heat bleeding through her thin dress where he’s pressed almost to her back. The bar isn’t full, but still she scoots to the side to make room and watches the arm follow her, strong and tanned where it rests on the bar.

There’s a faint tan line from a watch, soft brown hairs that probably would be soft to the touch.

Maybe if she hadn’t spent the day surrounded by men who didn’t think she would fit in the car because of her hips, her tits, Max would have pressed into the touch and found out how it felt wrapped around her body.

But her patience is almost gone, and so is her drink.

The ice cubes clink in her glass as she puts it down. The bartender must know she’s ready to bolt because he approaches with a look of apprehension, nervous hands wringing a washcloth between idle fingers. She ignores the back and forth in French and bends down for her jacket when suddenly –

“Can I have another beer please? What she is having also, merci.”

Max looks from her jacket on the floor to the bartender, and maybe it hadn’t been apprehension on his face after all. Maybe Max just sucks at facial expressions.

Her eyes follow tan skin down to his fingers, to the rings she should have recognised, the hangnail he had complained about after biting off. Even his scent reminds her of the track now, and she doesn’t know how she hadn’t known.

“I will of course have a vodka red bull, thank you.”

Charles whines and suddenly the touch of his arm is gone. “No, this I will not pay for.”

Max leans an elbow on the bar with a smile. She licks her lips and doesn’t know how to feel when Charles’ eyes turn just a shade darker, hazy probably with drink. “Then I will have a triple shot of vodka and a can of red bull also.”

“No, Max. You are being so stupid,” Charles tells her. He stands closer to the bar to point at the drinks menu, his front pressed almost entirely against her back. He’s warmer like this, and Max finds she doesn’t mind it, how his sweat-damp shirt sticks to her skin where the back of her dress dips low.

She feels the weight of his gaze on her face even as he says, “She will of course have a gin and tonic, please.”

“Always if you are trying to flirt, you should not do this, Charles. It is I think very rude,” Max tells him and ignores how her cheeks feels warm to touch, flushed with heat.

“I did not know – “ he says, and Max has always liked how indignant he sounds like this. He leans against the bar so only his knee rests against the outside of her thigh. “Also Max, do not lie to me, you do not drink vodka red bulls. This is ridiculous.”

Max sips her drink and shrugs, “If you are paying –“

Charles nudges the empty tumbler by her hands, “You think I would not buy this for you? Is it like this, whiskey?”

She should tell him probably that she likes the gin and tonic better, but she likes how the pout looks on his face, how the pressure of his knee has become more insistent.

“How about you win a race and then of course you can buy it for me,” she tells him instead.

[gabrielleragusi]

For Artists: My Experience with Commission Platforms and Illustration Agencies

Hi there! I’ve been wanting to compile a list of commission platforms that I’ve personally used for the longest time, and I finally did it! I’ve highlighted the still-active commission platforms in bold and struck those that don't exist anymore so you can jump to the sections that interest you without needing to read my entire story.

Let me start by briefly introducing myself.

I’m Gabrielle, a fantasy illustrator. Since 2014, I’ve been working on book covers and illustrations for publishers, authors, and book subscription boxes. Early on, work wasn’t as frequent as it is now. I had to search for opportunities myself, and even small private commissions were important for building my portfolio and earning some money, which I’d spend on materials, books, and online courses. Like many other artists, I started out by trying my luck with the biggest art community available at the time.

DeviantArt

2009-2018

Once upon a time, there was a virtual haven called DeviantArt. To my teenage self, it was a magical place. I signed up in 2009 and thought I’d never leave!

At first, I created an account just to share my work and learn. I didn’t even think about commissions for four or five years. But when that first inquiry finally landed in my inbox, things took off! My mum swears she remembers my excitement when I got my first commission, but for some reason, I’ve completely forgotten about it. I can't remember what it was or how much it paid. It might have been a portrait of a fantasy character.

Commissions on DeviantArt were fairly frequent, especially considering my cheap prices at the time. I used to offer discounts and post my rates in my DeviantArt journal, or in Commission groups that featured artists either monthly or weekly. After checking out my profile, a client could simply send me a private message and from there, we’d discuss payment, deadlines, and other details, and the platform didn’t take any fees, much like how ArtStation works today. Everything happened through private messages or email, with direct contact between artist and client.

The downside of this process was that there was no dispute resolution system on the platform. I had to handle all issues myself, and unfortunately, problems did arise sometimes: there were clients changing their minds about commissions, asking for refunds after work was delivered, refusing to pay, or just ghosting me. These issues didn’t happen because clients were evil, but rather because I was inexperienced and allowed some to take advantage of my naivety.

However, all that frustration helped me develop my commission process through trial and error (mostly error). And despite the challenges, I can say with satisfaction that most of the commissions I received through my DeviantArt profile were positive experiences.

DeviantArt eventually introduced a commission feature for Core (Premium) users, which came with a platform fee, but I didn’t use it much, and I’m not sure if it still exists.

The real beauty of dA, though, was the connections I made. I was able to meet people, both artists and clients, that I’m still in contact with today, and some of whom I still collaborate with.

I closed my account in 2018 or 2019, but by that time, I hadn’t really used it for a couple of years. The new user interface was a bit of a turn-off for me. I had always loved the geeky, and dare I say cozy, look of the old green and grey aesthetic, with its customisable panels that you could move around and personalise with HTML code... But I digress.

Artists and Clients

2013-2016

While taking small commissions on DeviantArt, I discovered Artists & Clients. It was a nice platform for clients to get things like their D&D characters or groups illustrated for relatively cheap. I think my highest price was $50 for a single character portrait, with the platform taking a 15% cut. I used it for about two or three years before the platform started to change.

As more artists with hentai art styles flooded in, the homepage shifted, and so did the clientele. There’s nothing wrong with drawing naked anime girls, of course, but you can understand that if a client is looking for a fantasy, semi-realistic painting of their female orc character, or a realistic portrait of their spouse, it's more than likely that they won't bother sifting through a sea of anime girls to find the style they want, imagining it isn't here. Let's just say that, at the time, the website took a definite direction that wasn't in line with my genre, but this direction didn't make the different, more realistic art styles stand out either.

Soon, commissions slowed down for me, so I closed my account, but by then I was already working elsewhere.

That said, this platform could still be a useful tool if you’re looking to take on smaller commissions.

DreamUp

2014-2015

DreamUp wasn’t an AI generator back then. It was actually a subsidiary of DeviantArt, where clients could post projects and artists could apply. It was a competitive platform that offered well-paid work–very well-paid. I remember seeing jobs posted that ranged from $300 to $1,200. DreamUp was a very professional platform for clients with a mid to high budget.

I believe I landed my very first book cover commission through this website when I was in my last year of high school. I remember getting the job and going to school the next morning, excited to share the news with my classmates. Everyone was super thrilled for me (we were a really close-knit class!), and I felt like I was walking on air.

Unfortunately, as far as I know, that book was never released, but it didn’t matter because I was moving forward, and fast.

I’m not sure when DreamUp was shut down, but I do know that DeviantArt held onto the copyrighted name, assigning it to something so anti-old DreamUp that it still boggles my mind.

ArtCorgi

Now Artistree

2014-2019

When I received an invitation to join ArtCorgi from its founder, I already had a somewhat consistent portfolio. I was painting portraits and fantasy illustrations, and the clients on this platform were looking for both–your typical wedding and pet portraits, as well as book covers, which were what really interested me. To get to the latter, I had to do the former. Over the years, I’ve painted so many realistic portraits that now I have a strict rule for my own sanity not to do them any more. I have great respect for portrait artists, but it’s just not me.

When I first submitted my prices to the person I was in contact with, she kindly suggested that I raise them... a lot. That was a major step forward in my professional career. I went from charging $50 to $100/$200 overnight. And to my surprise, people actually wanted to commission me at those prices!

From 2014 to 2019, I took nearly every commission that came my way. I never spoke directly with the clients; all instructions and feedback went through my point of contact, which helped maintain a level of professionalism, although now that I’m used to working directly with clients, I’m not sure I’d want to go back to having an intermediary.

Sadly, as with all good things, this chapter came to an end. My point of contact eventually left communication in the hands of someone else, and shortly after, the commission fee changed to, I believe, 30%.

Simply put, 30% is an unrealistic cut for a website like this. For an agent that gets you all kinds of big work in the publishing industry, sure, but since this was not the case I had to stop taking commissions. Despite that, my overall experience with ArtCorgi was very positive.

Today, ArtCorgi joined another platform, Artistree. As far as I can tell, Artistree doesn’t take any fees from artists, with clients covering a small cost instead.

Sketchmob (?)

2016-2020

This was probably the platform I used the most. I’ve lost count of how many commissions I received through Sketchmob. Many. Enough to generate a steady income at the time. With reasonable fees and a variety of art styles available, clients contacted me almost daily. Communication was direct between artists and clients, and payments could be split. The review system also worked very well… for a while.

Once I raised my prices, requests became fewer and farther apart. But by then, I was already working with my own clients.

Is this platform still active? Who knows. The website is still up and the chat feature works, but I’ve seen users complain that money available for withdrawal never arrived via PayPal (the only payment method the platform accepted, if I remember correctly). Personally, I wouldn’t risk completing a job through Sketchmob right now, at least not until they release an update.

If you’ve used the platform recently and successfully received payment within the last six months, please let me know, and I’d be happy to update this section!

Upwork

2017-2019

In 2017, I was determined to break into the book publishing industry. After trying out Fiverr and Freelancer.com with no success (the competition was too fierce for someone just starting out), I decided to give Upwork a shot. The platform looked very professional, and while the process sounded a bit complicated, I wanted to land the interesting projects I saw featured in my category. I really wanted to work with a big client… but big clients didn’t seem to want me, despite having the Rising Talent badge.

In two years of bidding for jobs and submitting proposals, I only landed two projects: a small commission from a private client who actually reached out to me, and another project that I bid on.

Don’t get me wrong, I was ecstatic at the time and truly appreciated every opportunity that came my way. But looking back, I can see why Upwork didn’t work out for me. The platform just wasn’t the right fit for my style and niche, which is fantasy illustration. Graphic design, however, was (and still is) in much higher demand.

The commission process on Upwork wasn’t as simple as on other platforms. For instance, at the time, costs were calculated hourly, which was a challenge for someone like me who prefers working with flat fees (having already calculated my average hours spent on an illustration). From what I’ve seen, this has since changed.

One positive aspect of Upwork is its current 10% cut on what artists earn. I don’t recall if this has changed over the years, but 10% is quite reasonable in my experience. Of course, 0% would be even better, but for a platform as large as Upwork, 10% is fair.

Illustration Agency

2019-2021

By 2019, I had built a solid, consistent portfolio thanks to my personal work and commissions. I had a simple website in place, my Instagram following was growing… I was steadily working toward my goal of illustrating covers for big publishers (which didn't happen until two years ago).

So, when an illustration agency reached out to me one day, I was over the moon. I had always heard that artists were the ones who had to approach agencies, not the other way around.

Well, that should have been my first red flag.

I won’t name this agency because, unfortunately, I have nothing positive to say about it. In fact, the word “nothing” perfectly describes my involvement with them. Nothing came of this barely there experience.

The agency invited me to sign up, not on an exclusive basis, but they assured me they’d get me work. That work never came. Once in a while, I’d receive messages saying they were trying to pitch my portfolio to a French publisher or another client, but... nothing.

Please understand that meanwhile I was already working directly with shops and authors, so I don’t believe my portfolio was the problem. The real issue was something I didn’t realise at the time: some agencies do this. They feature talented artists in their catalogue without having actual clients lined up, just to appear more professional and credible to potential clients. Did this strategy work for them? Maybe. I’ll never know.

In 2021, I politely asked them to remove my portfolio from their website, and that was the end of it.

After that, I never actively sought out an agent again. By the time my portfolio was strong enough to approach a serious agency, I just didn’t need representation anymore.

Hireillo

2019-2022

My experience with Hire an Illustrator, or Hireillo, is mixed. At the time, Hireillo was a platform that hosted artists' portfolios, featured artist-submitted news, provided useful articles, resources, and directories of artists and agents. I joined the site hoping to catch the eye of publishers, but I was mostly contacted by authors and one fellow artist for a graphic novel.

Unfortunately, most inquiries didn’t go beyond the first couple of messages due to budget constraints. I did, however, have fun sharing news about my painting process and projects I landed on my own, which were often featured by the website. Additionally, if I had questions about 'complicated' things like copyright, or just needed advice, I could ask the website’s owner and that was incredibly helpful.

Despite these benefits, I didn’t see any real results, which was a little disappointing. The subscription fee was also... odd, for lack of a better word. $5 per week. In the end I just couldn’t justify the cost, so I stopped using the website altogether.

Reedsy

2019-2022

Finally, we come to the turning point.

I remember stumbling upon Reedsy randomly. It wasn’t very well known at the time, and I think it still isn’t. I was nervous when I submitted my portfolio because their catalogue features the best of the best: designers who’ve created covers for bestsellers, THE bestsellers, people who’ve worked on Stephen King covers, or George R.R. Martin's. Designers, editors, and marketers who are veterans. I didn’t have high hopes for my application. So, I was in shock when it got accepted.

I had an introductory Skype call with a representative from Reedsy, who explained how everything worked. Before the call ended, I remember asking if there was a good chance I’d get work through the platform. The rep laughed and said, “Yes.”

A few weeks in, I understood that laugh.

Reedsy has an overwhelming demand for book covers and commercial projects. For every designer there are many more clients. In peak seasons, I was getting requests almost every day. I’m not exaggerating.

Reedsy transformed my portfolio and my pricing structure. Thanks to the income I earned through the platform, I was finally able not to take everything that came my way but be selective and choose only the projects that really interested me.

The commission process is simple: artists pretty much decide how to split payments, what to include in agreements, and the best part, the most beautiful and helpful feature of all, they can request and adjust deadlines. For someone like me who's terrible with deadlines, this feature was a lifesaver. The admins are also very kind and responsive, available via email or chat.

Unfortunately (this is my last 'unfortunately', I promise), my time on Reedsy came to an end for personal reasons. I’ll explain since it’s no secret.

All my images on Reedsy were watermarked with my signature (my full name), which apparently violated the platform’s rules. Why? Because if a client saw my last name, they could contact me directly and bypass Reedsy, which meant the platform lost potential fees. I’ll admit this did happen a few times, but I had the good sense to redirect the client back to Reedsy.

After three years, an admin finally noticed and asked me to remove my full name from the watermark and any text on my profile. It was a simple and reasonable request, but here’s where the problem started. Profiles on Reedsy are public, and images appear in search engines like Google Images, meaning anyone could download my work and use it without permission. Sure, watermarks can be removed, but uploading my work without one in the first place felt like a bad idea. Btw, not only do I use watermarks, but I also use Glaze to protect my illustrations before sharing them online.

Anyway, for this reason, and also because I couldn’t get over the fact that full names were public at the time, something I won’t get into because, believe me, I tried over email, and my reasons went into the void (now, last names are just initialised, like Gabrielle R. Okay. Sure.), I had to close my account–they would have done it anyway because it was already 'flagged'.

Overall, if you’re willing to overlook the last name conundrum, I can’t recommend Reedsy enough. If you have a killer, solid portfolio and a love for books and editorial projects, go for it!

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

I hope you'll find this useful! If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask (: Oh, and here's an old article I wrote in 2020, titled:

Tips to freelance illustrators to avoid being screwed over

Who knows, maybe I'll write another 'article' post in four years!

Instagram  - ArtStation - Website - Inprnt - Etsy - TikTok

[busket]

What… was the finding dory debacle… ?

omg ok it's a riot. funniest and creepiest thing to ever happen to me on tumblr.

in 2018 after seeing finding dory I made a short little review post. I said it was OK, but some parts could have been better, and modern Pixar movies feel more like kids movies whereas older ones feel more general family oriented

pretty bland, right? I got some folks agreeing with me, and some folks asking my opinions on other Pixar movies. I specifically remember someone asking me about Inside Out which I ignored since I haven't seen it. then come The Weird Replies.

very tumblr. feeling a little saucy about this very extreme reaction to me saying I didn't particularly like a children's movie, I made another post and got yet another WILD response from the same person

then came the asks. again from this same guy. this was a few days or a week or two after the finding dory post so id forgotten about it lol. I think after this point I blocked them bc obviously I would

then I got some asks from someone different. note how the username is different but still has the same cadence, like they were generated from the same random username generator. older screenshot so they look different, the bottom ask was posted first, chronologically so read bottom to top:

at this point I'm getting bored of this, but the asks don't stop. in case it wasn't clear, this is the same person, making new sideblogs and sending me CONSTANT messages. I would come home to like, 20 to 50 messages in my inbox, goading me into responding to them and talking to them and to stop ignoring them. now I'm getting creeped out so I just block all that I get. then they start sending me dms on Twitter. ignoring isn't working so finally I respond and say something like "dude you're really creeping me out now. what do you want? what can I do to make you leave me alone?"

their response was that they had sent me the Inside Out ask, and got offended when I didn't answer it. they told me that they just wanted to make a friend online and it was really disheartening to reach out to someone to strike up a conversation and to be ignored. that all they really wanted was to talk to me and be my friend.

I reminded them that they told me I should have gotten mangled and disfigured in the car accident I was in the year prior and that they wished death on my family and why the hell would I ever be friends with them

thankfully they apologized but said "can I just ask that you don't block me anymore I would like another chance to talk to you"

I said no. absolutely not, leave me alone. I blocked them one final time in Twitter and that was the end of it

[sterredem]

The adoption

Olivia Rodrigo x Fem!Driver!Ferrari!Reader

Face claim Pinterest girls

Warning fluff, not proofread, spelling mistakes (if you can’t handle it DONT READ IT! I have had enough people come in my inbox complaining about that. So if you know you can’t handle spelling mistakes or mistakes in sentences don’t read!)

Summary Olivia gives her girlfriend a gift for their anniversary.

Kind of a part 2 to this. It can be read as a stand alone

A/N short and rushed but I think it is cute. Again sorry for any mistakes. Really sorry that it is short but I didn’t have any more inspiration😭 this is more of ablution than a fic. I will also post a bit more of these short blurbs in this universe.

Don’t forget to reblog and comments! It helps a lot!

Real life

Adopting a dog or a cat was always something Y/n had wanted. And now that she was finally public with Olivia she had devoted that she wanted to finally do it. The reason that she waited being that she didn’t want to be found out by the public because of a dog (or cat).

So she talked about it with Olivia and her girlfriend immediately agreed to the idea, wanting some company for herself while Y/n is away doing her job.

And now that more people on the gird have dogs they thought it was the perfect timing, that being so that their dog could socialise with others.

And that is how Olivia and Y/n ended up on the coach in their home in Monaco (well more Y/n’a home but Olivia had practically moved in) on a free weekend, searching on their computer for any potential doggs.

When either of them found any options they would show each other and put it on a list with links in their notes app, they knew that getting a dog could not happen in one second, so they took their time to see what kind they wanted and to find the perfect one.

So once they did finally found ‘the one’ they decided to message the person responsible and see if they could adopt the dog. And while Y/n really wanted to be with Olivia while she handles the last things with adoptions and picking the puppy up, she couldn’t. Because she, sadly, had a race.

So Y/n secured to let Olivia handle the last things, with her having the most time in between shows and Y/n having to go to the factory and do training so not having any time to do all that.

And after a few weeks of waiting Y/n has kind of forgotten to the task that she has put Olivia on. And while Y/n forgot, Olivia didn’t.

Olivia has scoured the internet to search for any dog that they would like. And she found the one. So while Y/n had forgotten her girlfriend had had contact with a breeder and had done a lot of research. And she had devoted that she wanted to give the dog to Y/n on their anniversary, which would be in a few days.

So Olivia had fixed everything: food, toys, a place for the dog and, of course, the dog itself. Which was going to be a markiesje, a black one.

And then it was the time. It was their anniversary! They begun the day with a going out to eat breakfast (they were both to lazy to make food). Once they got back they relaxed and then it was time. Olivia had made a cover story for why they would need to go away; so she had said that they were going to eat somewhere and that it would be a surprise.

Unbeknownst to Y/n they were actually picking up their new dog.

Olivia had days that she needed to go inside to check something so Y/n had stayed in the car. Olivia had also fixed that they could pick the dog up in a place where a lot of good food places were so that her girlfriend wouldn’t get suspicious.

So once Olivia got back to the car with a little basket Y/n was beginning to question things.

Olivia got in the car and sat the basket on het lap.

“So… I may have lied a bit.” She said. “We will not be eating or going out eating. But… I did a lot of research after we talked a couple of weeks ago. And o finally got in contact with a breeder. I did a lot if research of which one was good and which one wasn’t. And they seemed to be legit. So I bought a dog. We still have to pick out a name.” Olivia ranted on. She was to nervous to look at her girlfriend reaction so she began ranting again. “We still need to pick out a name, but I thought you should get to do that. It is also your anniversary gift and-“ she was cut of.

In the kids of her ranting Y/n leaned over and gave her a kiss. “This is amazing baby! But do I get to see the dog now?” The girl asked.

Olivia blushed a bit and have the basket to her girlfriend. Y/n opened it and saw the cutest dog ever. It was a girl. “What should I name you?” She asked in a baby voice. “What about daisy?” She said while looking at Olivia.

The other girl nodded.

Daisy it was. Their new baby.

|———————————<3—————————————|

Instagram

OliviaRodrigo and Yourusername

Liked by SabrinaCarpenter and 4.736.936 others

Yourusername Meet my new baby; Daisy! Thank you my love for giving me this AMAZING anniversary gift💕❤️🫶

View all 19.836 comments

SabrinaCarpenter The cutest💕 liked by author

Alexandrasaintmleux Play date with Leo when?

Yourusername I’ll message you

LewisHamilton more dogs on the grid!👍

Yourusername Always good!

OliviaRodrigo Daisy 🌼💕

Yourusername 🌼💕

User1 PARENTS AFW PARENTS!!

User2 So cuteeee

User3 hey google! How can I be reincarnated as a dog?

User4 I have the same dog!

User5 not the dog owners of the grid in the comments😭😭

User6 Mothers!! (Literally)

User7 Happy anniversary!

User8 a baby when?

User9 they are only together for a year relax!

User10 Now I want a dog🫠

User11 Daisy is sucks cute name!

User12 I am going to convince my parents with this post to get a dog!

User13 will we now get more Olivia appearances in the paddock with Daisy?!?! That would be amazing!!!

|———————————<3—————————————|

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 9 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: phew! this took me five million years and a bag of candy to write. remember when I told you to remember the house layout? 😉 Enjoy!

small mention: I absolutely love knowing you all are curious about the next chapter of this series. I appreciate and love all comments I get, and try to keep all my promises I make. but, trust I’m human too and need some away from writing. Though, when rude and harassing words are used in my inbox- the joy of writing this series gets absolutely sucked away. (If I’ve answered your message, this isn’t about your comment 🫶) so, please keep your rude words to yourself or I’ll turn off anonymous inbox messages and block you the next time :)

W/C: 4.016

part eight

"I should've just taken a break to go on vacation."

Lina sighs, poking her salad with her fork, and guiding the mixture of greens and dressing up to her mouth.

"Didn't you take a trip to Paris last international break?"

Luis says, raising a brow at her words. He turns his head towards me, nudging me under the table.

"Can you believe her?" He asks, an exasperated chuckle leaving his lips. It causes me to jolt out of my half-asleep state, my eyes widening in surprise.

"What? Who?" I ask looking around and bring a hand up to rub the sleep out of my eyes.

I had rushed out of the house this morning, which meant everyone got the chance to admire my bare skin today.

Well, my stress-induced breakouts were on full display, but having some pimples wasn’t the end of the damn world anyway.

"Are you okay?" Lina joins in, placing a warm hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, just dozed off- been sleeping horribly." I reply, eyeing my lunch with a grimace.

"Are those exams still keeping you up?"

"More like waking me up.. Do you know how many nightmares of failing an exam a person can take?” I say, my words coming out harsher and louder than I intended. My eye twitches in irritation, and I give them a crazy look.

"Woah, you have an attitude today.." Luis mutters, shifting away from me.

"Don’t piss her off.." I hear Lina say, nudging Luis.

"Never mind, I'm going back to work." I state, quickly putting my tray of food away and walking out of the cafeteria.

I mutter curses under my breath, trying to look as normal as possible to my coworkers when I pass them in the hallways.

Exam season was practically sucking the life out of me, and the added pressure of the upcoming Champions League home game against Napoli was multiplying the stress.

Thankfully, it was international break, which meant that my normal workload was cut in half. Some players not playing for in the national team had requested leave for vacation, so the training center was pretty quiet and empty today.

I only knew of injured players being here for their scheduled recovery appointments.

I finally get back in my office, sighing in exhaustion when I get to my desk. I plop down, rubbing my face to wake myself up further, before starting to work on some more content.

"Why are you grinning like a creep?"

I turn to Luis, chuckling at his choice of words, and let go of the computer mouse.

"I just got a notification that said I passed my written exam." I beam, giving him a cocky look.

"Really?"

"Yeah, ninety-four percent..” I say, turning my head to look at the editing program. The training video we had just shot halfway edited already.

"You've been snapping at us for no reason, but I guess it was worth it- good job.." He says, shooting me a smile, and leaning in to give me a side hug.

"Yeah, sorry about that.." I apologize, fixing my wrinkled shirt. I move my hand towards the mouse again, cutting off a piece of blurry footage that we couldn’t use.

"It's fine, I guess it's payback for making you do random tasks back when you were a newbie.."

"You know, I haven't forgotten how you made me carry that heavy ass bag every morning..”

"I'm sorry, alright. You should've told me earlier that Ancelotti is basically your uncle."

I grumble at his words, jabbing his ribcage with my elbow, sending him a warning look.

"Stop talking and help me out with this.." I mutter, passing him the mouse.

He winces a little, rubbing his stomach, before snatching the mouse off of me with an attitude.

"Didn't know you were allowed to use your privilege to inflict such violence."

I roll my eyes, focused on the moving images on the computer screen. Starting to unconsciously pick at a fresh scab on my hand. Only noticing the damage I’ve done when I look down to see blood trickling down the back of my hand.

"Shit, made myself bleed.." I say, making Luis glance away from the dual monitors.

"Go to the physiotherapy room. They have a shit ton of bandages and bandaids.” He suggests, his hand going up to fix the curls falling in front of his eyes.

I nod quickly, getting up from my seat and walking out of the small, soundproof meeting room. I close the glass door behind me, hurrying over to the physiotherapy room.

I pass the glass panels facing the multiple pitches outside, the sun had been shining brightly this afternoon. Even though the sun had been setting quite early due to daylight saving time.

I knock twice when I arrive, only opening the door when I hear a loud 'come in' in response.

I clear my throat, realizing how silly it is to get a bandaid for a wound like this, but still walk in.

I'm greeted by the sight of first-team physiotherapist Iván, he smiles when he notices me, waving for me to come inside.

He was one of the nicest people working with me at Real Madrid. It would be especially fun when he would bring in his little two-year-old son with him. I couldn’t count on one hand how many times I had carried the cute boy around the training center in my free time.

"Oh, y/n. What brings you here?" He questions, shoving the white privacy curtain out of the way, only to reveal a shirtless Jude lying on the treatment table, his eyes opening to peer over at me.

The personalized shoulder brace he'd been wearing for the past couple matches, was taken off for obvious reasons, and placed on the other side of the bed.

I look away a moment later, feeling my chest tighten, internally wincing at the thought of Jude having a dislocated shoulder and still playing football. Despite all of the aggressive and offensive play we had gotten used to this season, he was handling it well- but I wouldn’t ever utter it out loud.

Because- who wants to inflate that ego even more? Or was that even possible?

"Hi, Iván.. Just wondering if you got a bandaid for me?" I avert my gaze to the physio, and raise my brows. I hold my hand up to show the wound, and smile when he nods in response.

"Yeah, just a second.." He shoots Jude a quick wink, washing his hands before coming over. He begins to rummage through the cabinet, flipping through a pack of bandaids before handing me one closest to my skin color.

"Here you go.. Do you need anything else?" He asks, eyeing the blood on my hand.

"Nope, only this. Thank you.." I smile, quickly wiping down the blood from my hand and gently placing the bandaid on my wound.

I throw the bloody wipes and wrappers in the dedicated trash can, turning around again when I’m done.

I make accidental and involuntary eye contact with Jude instead of Iván, who's already across the room busy with some paperwork. Probably documenting the progress of Jude’s injury.

My eyes automatically dart down to his shoulder, and unbelievably, my eyes slip to his chest, then to his-

I stiffen when I regain consciousness of what I’m doing, and look away with haste. I fight the urge to smack myself in the face, instead biting the flesh of my cheek when I notice him smirk at me.

"What are you looking at?" He questions, voice low and his cocky tone too obvious to ignore.

My eyes widen slightly when he speaks, and I take a step forward as if to say I’m not intimidated.

"Just- looking at your shoulder.." I say, cringing at the way the words leave my mouth.

"So, you’re worried about me now?"

I give him a look of disgust, a chuckle of disbelief leaving my mouth.

"You wish, Bellingham. I heard Ancelotti is confident in putting you in the starting lineup on Wednesday. You better put your best foot forward, and if we don’t end up winning..." I trail off, threatening him slightly with my tone. I then turn around and leave the room.

I couldn’t lie, being rude to him after he'd dislocated his shoulder and still played made me feel a little guilty.

Though, he had a huge gift of being the ultimate douchebag, even when he’d been having his 'decent' moments lately.

“He’s only turned nineteen two- no three months ago, and he’s already scoring in the Champions League..” Luis gawks, grabbing the equipment bag out of my hand.

“I know, it’s so fun to see young players flourish..” I mutter, mentally recalling the interview I just did with Nico Paz. Since it was his first goal for Real Madrid, we had just done an interview in celebration.

“He is a year younger than you.. Is he really that young to you?” Luis teases, pushing me away when I pretend to kick him.

“What? Are you trying to undermine my accomplishments?” I question, trying to kick him again.

“Hey! See, this is how immature you are.. Step back, dude get off…” He says, and I scuffle with him for a moment, gasping when he tries to put me in a headlock.

“Okay, you always do this- stop everyone is looking..” I mutter, squeezing his arm.

“How fuckin’ childish are you?” I hear a familiar voice say. I snap my head up, Luis’ arm loosening as he immediately lets me go.

“As much as I want to be...” I state, my hand traveling up to fix my hair and clothes.

I hear Jude scoff, he gives me a nasty look before taking a step forward, but I notice him freeze in my peripheral vision when he hears someone calling out to me.

“y/n?!” The person shouts, and I look around for a moment before my eyes land on…

The guys from Naples?

What’s his name again?

“Chris?..” I say, my voice low and as enthusiastic as I can manage to pretend.

Fuck, I never even answered his DM’s..

Well, should I really give a guy who looks like trouble a chance?

My common sense says: NO.

I watch him bring an arm around my back, his hand resting on my shoulder blade when he hugs me tightly. Like we’ve been friends for freaking years…

“How have you been? Thought I’d see you here..” He beams, his hand going up to fix the fluffy mop of blonde hair on his head. Aussie accent undeniably mesmerizing like last time.

He is so pretty, but the kind of pretty that told me he was a full on man-wh*re..

“Hi? Good, what are you doing here?” I ask, trying to stop the grimace forming on my face. I lean in, taking a closer look at the badge hanging from his neck.

Surprisingly enough, it says ‘VIP’- I look up at him with a questioning look, waiting for him to explain.

“Oh- this.. someone I know gifted me this pass..”

Yeah, very believable.

He smiles nonchalantly, the skin of his cheeks denting as his dimples show.

I nod as if I understand, glancing at Luis, so he can get me out of this conversation.

“You’re the drunk guy from that night!” Chris suddenly exclaims, pointing at Luis.

Could this get even more awkward.

I tune out the stupid conversation they have, shuffling backwards only to bump into Jude.

Thankfully, not against his injured shoulder.

“Oh, sorry..” I whisper, not even registering his response before he’s rudely interrupted.

“Man- no way you’re the Jude Bellingham..”

I close my eyes in embarrassment, turning around to face Jude instead of both Luis and Chris.

I raise my brows at Jude, giving him a look only readable as ‘send this man away’..

He immediately plasters an all too good, fake smile on his face. Stepping behind me to greet Chris, and begins talking to him about the match.

I can only hear a jumble of both Brum and Aussie accents, it making me want to burst into a fit of laughter. Though, I manage to keep it in, looking at Luis to see if he’s still present in the conversation.

He isn’t, as expected. No surprise, he’s fidgeting with his damn camera again.

I stand there like a statue for the next two minutes, looking back and forth between the two accented men.

It’s a comical sight, especially when I can’t even understand some words.

I sigh in relief when Jude pats Chris’ shoulder, careful with his injury when he goes in for a handshake.

I watch Jude leave swiftly, his facial expression falters immediately, and his hand goes up to rip the shoulder brace off his body, harsher than I’ve ever seen him do before.

"My brain is going to explode, fucks sake.."

I mumble, stretching my arms and legs. I get up from the dinner table in order to walk around the backyard for a moment. Trying to get some fresh air, even though it's past midnight already.

I loved studying at the dinning table way more than upstairs in my room. It felt less lonely- especially since my dad had been gone for a couple weeks now. His work and the case had taken an interesting turn, which meant that his stay had to be prolonged.

I didn't mind, in fact, I loved living alone. Except for when I heard random noises at night. It could've been a bird flying against the window, and I’d still be paranoid.

Since it was our day off, after winning 4-2 against Napoli yesterday- I thought I'd go ahead and continue cramming for my last exam I had in a couple days.

I yawn and stretch my limbs, looking up at the clear sky and stars. It had gotten so much colder since December was almost here.

My pajama shorts are not providing warmth, but I can’t be bothered to go up and change when I’m going back inside in a minute anyway.

I can hear my back cracking when I turn to stretch, making me chuckle. I was only twenty, but those hard ass chairs and sitting in them for long periods of time, made me feel like I was double my age sometimes.

I'm brought out of my thoughts when I hear my phone ring loudly from the dinning table. I jog back inside quickly, throwing my slippers off my feet and snatch my phone. Confusion settling on my face when I read the caller ID.

I immediately pick up, pressing the phone against my ear. Worrying about something horrible happening in the middle of the night.

"Dad? It's late, something wrong?" I say in one breath, left hand clutching the backrest of my chair.

"y/n, nothings wrong. I just need you to listen carefully..”

"Okay." I spit out, just wanting him to get to the point, my brain making up all types of things.

"It's concerning one of my clients. Something unexpected just happened, and he's going to have to stay over at ours for a while."

I pause at his words, frowning in confusion, even though he can’t see my face.

"What? So, you're calling me- because I need to let an unfamiliar guy into our house- so he can sleep here? Is it a criminal?”

I gasp, hand gripping my phone tighter.

“A murderer?! Dad! How can you-”

"-y/n.." He cuts me off, voice stern, but I’m able to hear the grogginess of his tone. He'd probably been sleeping before he was awakened.

"It's no stranger- it's Jude, okay? He's not safe in his own home- relating the case I took on. I offered for him to stay over out of concern for his safety. So, he's going to have to stay with- you for a while."

I stay quiet, taking in all of the information he's giving me. I can already feel a migraine creeping up on me, letting go of my chair to massage my temple with one hand.

"I have to get the guest room- ready?" I say, processing everything and trying to understand what I’m supposed to do.

"Yes, I know you two are- friendly. Please be understanding and responsible. I'll call you in the morning, just get him settled and go to bed. You got that, honey?"

"Yeah, I got it. Uh- I'll get the room ready.." I say, already walking up the stairs and into the guest bedroom.

"Good, again- I'll call you in the morning- good night, sweetie.."

I quickly hang up after saying goodbye, running around, and making the bedroom look presentable. I change the bedsheets and wipe the dust off the vanity with a swift motion. It takes me about ten minutes and a sweaty forehead, before the doorbell rings repeatedly.

I run down the stairs, almost tripping due to my haste.

I take a deep breath when I reach the front door, trying to collect my thoughts and feelings before swinging the door open.

Jude's house was unsafe to stay in, so he's staying here- right..

The front door squeaks when I open it. An exhausted-looking Jude entering my sight, his black suitcase is on the floor, to his right- looking like it’s about to burst at its seams.

Cold air greets my face and naked legs almost instantly, making me curse internally for not changing clothes earlier.

I was too stubborn for my own good..

"Hi- umh, come in?" I say, my voice hoarse as if I hadn't spoken out loud in weeks.

He nods awkwardly, mumbling something incoherent as he begins rolling his suitcase inside.

I motion for him to take his shoes off, which he promptly does without hesitation. I turn away, grabbing some house slippers for him to wear out of the shoe rack.

I throw them next to his feet, watching his eyes flicker up and down as he steps back for a moment.

"You alright?" I ask, worried about the lack of words he's using.

It was unlike him, whether we’re arguing about some stupid shit or I’m filming an interview- he always had something to say.

"Yeah, I'm fine.." He mutters, looking up and finally making eye contact with me.

"The bedroom is upstairs.." I trail off, reaching over to grab his suitcase, but he snatches the heavy luggage up with one hand, immediately making his way up the stairs.

I watch the muscles in his arm flex as I walk behind him. I stop dead in my tracks when I realize what I’m doing and practically start running up the stairs to catch up to him.

I walk ahead of him when we reach the top of the stairs, opening the guest bedroom door for him.

"This is your room, bathroom is there, and the laundry room is over there." I point, turning around to face him.

"Thanks.." His Brum accent is thick, and he looks at me like a lost man in crisis.

I clear my throat, unable to pick between being nice and acting like how we normally interacted.

"Are- do you want to go shower?" I mutter, raising my brows.

I only realize how wrong my sentence sounds the second it leaves my mouth. To cover my embarrassment, I clear my throat again, putting my hands behind my back.

"Yeah- I should.." He responds, and I step aside to let him in the bedroom.

"I'll be downstairs.."

I inform, running down the stairs the second he shuts the door behind him.

I rub my eyes aggressively when I walk into the living room area. Sitting on the couch, I wonder if this is some delusional fever dream.

Maybe it’s just a different genre of dreams, next to those nightmares I had about failing exams.

I mean- who can make this up?

I get up to my feet again, walk up to the fridge, and begin filling up a huge glass with water. I bring the cup up to my lips, and slowly sip on the cool liquid, hoping it will help me feel grounded again.

I exhale deeply when I'm halfway through the cup. Going for my last gulp of water again, I fill my mouth with the rest of the water. My cheeks almost exploding from the amount of water in my mouth.

Suddenly, I'm absolutely- fucking-scared shitless as I'm poked in between my shoulder blades. I turn around in a shift motion, accidentally spraying out the water in my mouth- onto a shirtless Jude's chest.

My eyes almost bug out of my head in shock. My jaw slacks open when I observe the aftermath.

He can only look at me with a blank face. I can’t detect any emotion in his face, but he’s probably equally as mortified as me.

"Shit- sorry.." I blurt, turning around, and grabbing a kitchen towel. I scramble for a second, and start to vigorously..wipe.. his..chest..

I only realize I'm rubbing on his chest like I’m giving him a damn massage- mid-wipe and freeze.

My body goes rigid and my hands are resting on his now dry, naked chest.

I look up at him, only seeing part of his face with help from the dim lights in the kitchen. My breathing slows down, and he looks down at me in return.

I can feel my heart pounding in my ribcage, and I'm sure anyone within meters of me could hear.

His skin is soft and warm underneath my fingertips-

"I- was going to ask how the shower works.." Jude whispers, his warm breath hitting my face. I can make out his brown eyes peering into mine, a series of unspoken and caged words behind them.

His words make me stop breathing for a moment. I remove my hands off of him at lightning speed, the kitchen towel falling to the floor mindlessly and I step back immediately.

"Oh- yeah, sure. Follow me.." I scramble a couple words together, my brain working overtime. I walk up the stairs again. Leading him into the bathroom, noticing he had left the lights on, his discarded shirt on the bathroom counter.

"Here- left is hot, right is cold. This is the best temperature.." I instruct, pointing when necessary and don’t dare to look up at him as he stands behind me.

"This button is for the radio and this one for the ventilation.." I say, pressing some buttons to show him how they work.

"Okay.." He breaths out, his warm breaths hitting the back of my neck. I can practically feel his eyes drilling into the back of my head.

I finally turn to look at him, dragging my gaze up to make awkward eye contact with him.

"Anything else?" I ask, voice low and I begin fidgeting with the hem of my shorts.

"Not really..” He replies, sentence dragged out by his accent.

"Umh- okay.. laundry hamper is there. I'll be in my room.." I trail off, pointing my thumb behind me, and walk out of the bathroom without saying anything else.

I quickly clean up the mess I - no, he caused in the kitchen. I wipe everything down properly and grab my laptop and stationary off the dining table.

I carefully lock the front door and windows on the first floor, setting up the alarm and going back upstairs.

I can hear some noise coming from the bathroom. I begin averting my gaze, just in case Jude walks out of the bathroom half-naked again.

I finally get into my bedroom, jumping into my bed. I try to distract myself with my phone until he's done with showering. So I can finally wash my face and brush my teeth after a long day of studying.

Only, this time- my phone doesn’t seem to be all too interesting. Not even those brainrotting and attention grabbing TikTok’s.

Nothing, and I mean nothing- could distract me from anything that had happened within the past thirty minutes..

[whoishotteranimepolls]

Poll analysis part 5

This one isn't so much related to fandom behavior. Overall, it's more about how certain characters or apparently where some people draw the line enough to have made a fuss in the comments or my inbox. I find it interesting where the standards are for some people and I mean I just drew the line at no sentient weapons or mechs

And when I say cause a fuss that would mean causing crap in the comments to messaging me asking me to ban characters or entire franchises because they're problematic for various reasons which I will get into. To flat out harassment of me for allowing these characters in my polls and the people who voted for whatever character they have a problem. It's the full spectrum of bad behavior. This is going to get weird

Izutsumi from Dungeon Meshi why is she the only character people are causing crap about for being 17? I have gotten so many messages about this one character. No one gives a crap about the other underage characters apparently, but the 17 year old cat girl is too much. And again, I think I would have gotten at least one message about one of the 15-year-olds but no just the underage cat girl. I am so confused why this is the line for so many people. When I say she has been a problem, she has been in two polls and she has been the source of 7 polite messages. 12 not nice messages full on harassing messages. Calling me a disgusting pervert for even allowing her in my polls. 11 comments that had to be deleted 12 tags/Reblogs that had to be hidden. All because they said something like she's 17 you perverts. I have set a new record for the amount of people I've had to block over a single character and she's been in two polls. I didn't get this much crap over the character that looked 12.

Kikuri Hiroi from Bocchi the Rock! My original problem character because of her Moe art style she looks 12. Even though she's 28, I've resorted to just putting her age in the post to avoid the things turning into a dumpster fire after that first poll.

Uncle Iroh was a character. I did not expect to cause issues because everyone loves Uncle iroh. Apparently some people find it weird that some people find him hot. Because multiple people have made a fuss in comments or in my inbox about how it's gross or weird to find him hot because he's a grandpa. Ironically, one of the people making a fuss about iroh really has a crush on Silvers Rayleigh the irony in that is hilarious.

Toji Fushiguro I've gotten a few messages about him saying he should be banned because he's a crappy father. A terrible person and anyone who finds him attractive should seek psychiatric help. People he's a villain calm down This is Tumblr. I feel like people have forgotten Loki mania where he was considered the god of Tumblr. I think Tumblr has a thing for villains. Look at the persistence longevity of the Hannibal fandom. So please calm down people it's still not a justifiable reason to ban a character from my polls.

Dracula from Castlevania because genocide and sexism once again I'm sorry people sometimes find villains hot. I'm confused about the sexism part. I think it's because of the way he treated Carmilla, But I'm still confused because that man loved his wife

Franken Stein from Soul Eater. I've gotten a message that he should be banned because he's a groomer. I watched Soul Eater and I'm also confused about this one. If any Soul Eater fans can anyone help me? I'm again so confused about this one. If anyone from Soul Eater should be banned for bad behavior, it is not Stein

Gojo, is a little bit of a headache character for me for the thousands of comments I've seen calling him the Blue-Eyed demon seriously Tumblr what has this man done to you? How did he hurt you? He is also a character I have had people message me asking me to ban because apparently he's racist. I'm so confused.

And to build upon this, someone sent an entire list of characters that should be banned because they have blonde hair and blue eyes because if they win that reinforces white centric colonial beauty standards I should have screenshotted that message. These polls are done for stupid fun and I don't think they are going to reinforce colonialism. In fact, many of you have told me they're going to kill the British monarchy and I think that's the opposite of reinforcing colonialism. That list is too long to post in its entirety here. Remember I said this was going to be a little weird.

Someone actually messaged me saying I should not put Victor from Yuri on Ice in future polls because he is not a good representation of the lgbtq+ community

I've also received similar messages about Grell Sutcliff and Yamato for the trans community

Dungeon Meshi You think would be free of criticism because it's so loved however Laios Touden should be banned because he's blonde with blue eyes and a bad representation of people with autism. I wish I was making this up. Marcelle and Falin are not safe either because some people have it out for blondes and they are also not good representation of the LGBTQ+ community

A bunch of Fullmetal Alchemist characters should be banned including Mustang, Hawkeye, Ed, Alphonse, Armstrong, Hughes basically everyone but Scar. Because those characters perpetrate and promote genocide, racism, ethnic cleansing, imperialism, the military industrial complex, colonialism, fascism, sexism, misogyny, and white supremacy. I honestly think someone missed the entire point of the show but that's just me.

Someone wants the entire Apothecary Diaries franchise banned because it's sexist, misogynistic and a poor representation of Chinese culture.

And basically any villain or abusive parent. Someone has complained about or pushed to get banned because it makes them uncomfortable. Because God forbid characters have flaws

So many One Piece characters are problematic just for being One Piece characters not for anything they've done in the story or their character arc or anything like that. It's really because I have a group of people that think I should ban the entire franchise from my polls because the one piece art style is misogynistic. Oh boy. I should have screenshotted some of the essays I received in my inbox. Some of you need to take a chill pill because if I get another essay about one piece being misogynistic because of the art style, I'm going to shame you by posting that crab publicly. Because I will admit the art style is not for everyone, but especially when it comes to the female characters. But those female characters are some of the best written you will find in all of Shonen anime. Plus if we really want to start banning anime franchises for being misogynistic, It's going to be a bloodbath. Because if One Piece is misogynistic for the art style, Naruto is misogynistic for the writing. And I could probably find something misogynistic about most Shonen anime. So again let's not even go there.

The only justifiable reason I would ever ban a character is if the fandom becomes so toxic it's no longer worth it for me to put up with the drama. Now all the blogs I have had to block have been dedicated to one of two things. Naruto or Dungeon Meshi. One of those fandoms I already refer to as my problem child fandom and the other one I hate to say is quickly becoming its twin.

So can we all just agree to calm down because if I banned everything someone had an issue with because it's sexist, misogynistic, racist, etc. There would be no characters left. So let's calm down everyone and please keep the complaints and the tantrums to a minimum. I am a fellow fan that runs this blog for fun and I'm very tired of this crap.

[writeyouin]

Mirage X Reader - Falling

Description (This was a request but it got sent to my PMs instead of my inbox by accident): When Alison Moyet's song Falling comes on the radio, Mirage is forced to think about you and his feelings towards you.

A/N – Yep, so another Mirage one for all of you desperately waiting for the film to come out on a good pirating site in top quality.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

You stood at the sink washing dishes, a tune on your lips that you mumbled quietly to yourself, only half singing with your mind on other things like lost loves, failed relationships, and someone new in your life; Mirage.

“She said something like, I’m tired of me,” You sang Alison Moyet’s ‘Falling’, and then transitioned to whistling part more of the tune which had only come out a year prior.

Then, without the radio to follow, you reset to an earlier part of the tune, singing whichever little bits came to mind.

Little did you know, Mirage was spying on you, trying his best to imitate the stealthy way Arcee moved. Alas, subtlety wasn’t Mirage’s strong suit and he had already knocked over a row of garbage cans, and crushed some kid’s bike; he could only hope the bike wouldn’t be missed. Fortunately, among the usual noise and squalor of New York, nobody had cared about the sound or come out to explore.

Mirage wasn’t trying to be a creep by observing you. He just wanted to know more about your life and what you did. It seemed that in your day-to-day routine, you were obsessed with music. Bumblebee had already introduced Mirage to the concept of human music which was vastly different from the stuff that used to exist on Cybertron and Mirage liked it.

It was different from what he was used to for sure, but there were some songs he just couldn’t resist. The Twisted Sister song ‘We’re Not Gonna Take It,’ seemed to be a great Frag You to any Decepticon scum that attempted battle with him. And there was that one Bumblebee had introduced to him, ‘I Can’t Drive 55’, by that Sammy Hager fella. That was great, but Mirage was more than capable of beating that set speed and regularly did so when he wanted to bait the local authorities into a fun chase.

Still, he wasn’t sure he saw the appeal of this song. It sounded happy and sad at the same time, and he couldn’t decide which it was supposed to be with its New Wave vibe. Was it about falling, like it said? Falling for what? Mirage wasn’t sure, but you seemed to enjoy it. You hummed it quite a lot when you were thinking; he wasn’t sure you realised that you did that. It was one of the things he liked about you. It felt like you were letting your guard down when you hummed along to half a tune, and he enjoyed that you could feel so relaxed around him and the other Autobots.

Mirage might have called on you that night to ask you out on a drive; he liked your company. Alas, he got a message from Optimus telling him to return for the evening so they might meet the humans that Noah had been found by. Apparently, the new humans wished to discuss the possibility of an alliance with the Autobots.

Either way, Optimus’ message ended with, “Return to the rendezvous immediately.”

“Mirage, return,” Mirage mocked, impersonating Optimus. “Mirage, meet the humans. Mirage, I choose you.”

“Did I ask for your backtalk?” Optimus’ gravelly voice came through the radio.

“Scrap!” Mirage hurried to end the communication, having not realised that the line was still open when he had been joking around.

He transformed and raced off to the rendezvous point, any thoughts of you temporarily forgotten.

The next night, the Autobots stood in a unified line as they stared at their new base, a fully functional warehouse, with technology that they could use, even if it was primitive Earth tech.

“Optimus, can we trust these humans?” Arcee asked, her optics never leaving the building.

“We must try, Arcee. I see now that we have spent too much time working only for ourselves when we should have been working together.”

“Any way you want it, that’s the way you need it,” Bumblebee played from his speakers, using Journey’s immortalised words to convey his point.

Arcee looked past Optimus to catch a glimpse of Mirage, “You’ve been awfully quiet, Mirage. Thoughts?”

Mirage marched himself in front of the trio, clapping his servos together as he began his speech, “Well, I mean, clearly there’s a lot to think about here. There are the new humans we know, we have to check the place for bugs, and of course, there’s the most important matter of all-” He took a few slow steps backwards, “- who gets the biggest room. I call dibs!”

With that Mirage spun on his heel and pelted towards the base. Bumblebee, unwilling to let Mirage have all the fun joined in the race and chased after his ally, though when he had just about caught up, Mirage jumped backwards, crashing into Bumblebee and knocking him over. Before he could sprint off again, Bumblebee grabbed Mirage’s ankle and the two began brawling on the floor.

Optimus walked past the wrestling bots with dignity befitting his position and a dismayed shake of his head.

Arcee took a few steps closer to her allies, resting her servo on her hip as she took in the show.

‘Scouts will be scouts,’ She thought mirthfully.

Eventually, the competition was over, with Bumblebee the clear victor, and after sitting on top of Mirage for ten minutes, he finally let him get up, but only after Mirage admitted that Bumblebee was the best Autobot and the supreme Earth expert.

After that, they raced through the base, checking out every nook and cranny, and wondering which exits they could exploit and sneak out of, should Optimus try to ground them from the drive-in again.

Eventually, Bumblebee and Mirage settled down, each picking out a portion of the warehouse that was just for them. All rooms had been modified with individual entrances so they could come and go as they pleased. Mirage had even been hooked up with some sweet racing posters. He set about decorating the room to his liking, letting his internal radio play as he did so. After switching channels, he stumbled across the song you liked so much.

Curiously, he let it play, trying to really listen to what the lyrics meant.

She said something like I want to go Down where the river's wild He said take me then I want to drown Deep in your violent eyes

Deep in your violent eyes? Was it a love song? If it was, it was the strangest one he had heard before.

He continued listening.

But I want to be sure of one thing That I'm getting into something peaceful I want to fly in on your wing Way, way up here I don't care for anything It's all in, and I'm not afraid I don't fear Falling

There was no doubt about it. The song was indeed about falling in love.

Mirage felt a sharp prick of indignation. Were you in love with someone? He had to assume so, considering that you didn’t seem to sing anything else. It was always this song. Who were you in love with, and why did he care so much?

He wasn’t sure, but the idea of you with someone else made Mirage’s engines rev and his face contort disgustedly. You were his buddy, his pal, his partner in crime. Why did you need some stupid, boring human, when you could hang out with him? Speaking of which, when was the last time the two of you had hung out of late? You hadn’t been together much since he’d been repaired. Well, with his room claimed and little else to do, Mirage decided that tonight was as good as any to get in some bonding time.

He transformed, revving his engine loudly as he waited for the automatic garage door to open for him. His wheels spun on the spot in a move that would have burned rubber on any ordinary car. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door opened enough for him to slip through and he sped off, ignoring every speed limit he came across; if Prime gave him the third degree about laying low later, he would claim ignorance and take whatever punishment he was given.

When Mirage got to your house, he honked his horn loudly, waiting for you to open your window and see him. He couldn’t transform into his root-mode while a few seedy humans lingered about, so he had to wait for you to get to him… presuming you weren’t with someone lame, like a crush you hadn’t mentioned.

At the commotion, you poked your head out of the window, grinning when you saw Mirage. You held up two fingers, indicating that you would be two minutes and then hastily got changed from your pyjamas back into your day clothes. Grabbing your keys, you ran outside and climbed into Mirage’s passenger seat, buckling up in case he decided to take off before speaking as he was prone to do; buckling up was indeed a wise choice as Mirage took speedily to the streets.

“So,” You asked casually, “Business or pleasure?”

“Have you ever seen me do business? Business is for the big guy, you know, never smiles, never shows me that underbite, the big OP,” Mirage sassed you.

“I dunno, you seemed pretty business when you fought Scourge for me.”

“For you? No, no, no, I was fighting Scourge just for the sake of being the tri-planet champion.”

“Tri-planet champion?” You repeated incredulously. “You only fought him on Earth.”

“Yeah, but he’s from Galvatron, the living freaking planet. He fought on the Maximals’ planet, and he came here. Count ‘em – One, two, three. So, I digress, Tri-planet Champion.”

“Well, technically Noah was the one to face off with him, so-”

“Yeah, while he was inside me.”

“Okay, but Optimus was the one who took him offline.”

“Look, Optimus is always gonna be the champion of frowning and hard stares, a class I can’t compete in, so this is my thing.”

“All right,” You held up your hands in mock defeat. “You’re the champion.”

“Damn straight.”

“…Is the Champion going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Nowhere. Everywhere, Anywhere the road takes us. Just sit back and relax. We could listen to some music,” Mirage suggested innocently, his hidden agenda on his processor.

“Sure, then I can be the champion of karaoke,” You bragged.

“Against my voice? In your dreams.”

“Oh, so you can fight, race, and sing? Triple threat.”

Mirage laughed and turned on his radio. He let a few songs play, letting you sing along while he distractedly kept his inner workings tuned on finding the Alison Moyet hit. It would likely play soon, considering its popularity.

After a few good tunes, Mirage managed to find the song and he switched channels.

“Oh hey, I’ve heard this one before,” He said nonchalantly, “This is that sappy love song, right?“

“I don’t think it’s that sappy,” You defended with a smile.

“Oh yeah? Why? Does it make you think of someone special or something?”

You imagined how easy it would be to tell Mirage the the ‘someone special’ was him; as it turned out, it wouldn’t be easy at all. You clamped your mouth shut, a blush peppering your cheeks.

“So there is someone!” Mirage said all too accusingly. “You won’t be needing me anymore then, when this new person comes into your life.”

“You sound angry.”

“No I don’t!” Mirage replied huffily, proving your point. “You know what? I don’t think I like this song after all.”

He turned the radio off and the two of you sat in awkward silence. He kept on driving, slamming down on the accelerator. There was a lot of noise from honking cars as he sped in and out of their way.

“Just tell me who it is!” Mirage demanded petulantly when the silence finally got to him. “Is it Noah? He’s probably your type, right?”

“Why do you care?” You asked, annoyed and upset by the turn of events from nice drive to speedy interrogation.

“I don’t.”

“Then why are you asking so many questions?”

“I just feel I deserve to know who it is.”

“NO YOU DON’T!” You yelled back. “THEY’RE MY FEELINGS”

“AND I’M YOUR FRIEND,” Mirage countered as if that ought to give him the right to know everything you thought.

“This is so stupid,” You breathed, shaking your head.

“Come on!” Mirage insisted. “Tell me!”

“No.”

“Tell me!”

“No!”

“Tell me, tell me, tell me-”

Against Mirage’s frustrating onslaught, you finally yelled, “IT’S YOU!”

Mirage slammed hard on the breaks and you lurched forward, hissing as the seatbelt bit painfully into your collar bone. Fortunately, you were in an area with no cars on the road, having got off the interstate some time ago.

“What?” Mirage asked.

“It’s nothing, just… take me home, please,” You begged, scared now that you had said too much.

“You like me? Like romantically? You like me romantically? You romantically like me?”

“You done with the combinations?” You said bitterly.

“But I’m- I’m an alien.”

“Yeah,” You threw your hands up. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. Now will you please take me home?”

Mirage transformed his arm, pulling you out of his chassis as the rest of his body followed suit. From his palm, you looked down to the floor, wondering whether it would be better to jump and get a concussion rather than have the embarrassing conversation that was about to follow.

“I don’t get it,” Mirage said, staring at you as if you were a complicated mathematics problem.

“I know,” You said, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself as if it might protect you from the sorrow you were feeling.

“No, but like, I really don’t get it. I thought you were just a friend, and kind of cool but I think- I think I feel the same way, maybe?”

You watched Mirage guardedly, unsure as to why he was asking you when it was his feelings that were scrambled.

“Look, Mirage, you don’t have to pity me, okay? Please don’t test yourself on me. I know I’m not what you’d look for and-”

Mirage pressed his lips against yours then hastily pulled away. You stared at him, too scared to speak.

He nodded to himself, pecked your lips again, and then vented a quick puff of air from his systems.

“Yeah, yep, yes,” He stammered. “That- That was a feeling. A-ha. Yeah, so I just found out I have a thing for you too.”

“You serious?” You asked, making sure that Mirage was alright as he stumbled through a barrage of new feelings.

“Yeah, I uh- I get the song now. Still don’t love it, but I get it.”

“Seriously? You’re still thinking about the song?”

“Hey, I’m thinking about a lot of things at once here (Y/N), mostly how I’m going to explain this to Prime later, a little bit about how this is going to work, and yeah, the song slipped in there. Frankly, I think we need to get you more into Bon Jovi, but I guess this could be our song or whatever.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “This was not how I pictured any of this going.”

“Yeah,” Mirage nodded, pacing back and forth, the motion rocking you on his palm, “But at least we got a song, right? Most new couples got nothing.”

Despite your tiredness, you couldn’t help smiling at his straightforward manner of thinking, “Sure, Mirage. At least we have a song.”

[thesensteawitch]

What's Your Beauty?🥀

Pick A Pile Reading

💚(Left to Right- Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)💚

Hello, Senstea Souls!

I am back with another collective reading that will tell you what's beautiful about you. Take this reading as it resonates. For any personal readings feel free to DM me or email me at thesensteawitch@gmail.com.

Pile 1

Tarot Cards: 2 of Swords, 8 of Pentacles, 4 of Wands, 5 of Wands, 2 of Wands, Ace of Cups, 3 of Cups, 7 of Swords

My dear pile 1, you are as beautiful as it gets. It's only you who cannot see it. Just like a deer doesn't know that the fragrance is coming from its naval and searches for it in the whole forest same is the case with you. You see beauty in everything and everyone except yourself. Have you forgotten that the beauty that we see in others is in ourselves? Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder. God, I feel so sorry for you that I have to remind you this because something happened to you your own thoughts make you believe that you're not beautiful. I will tell you what's your beauty. Your beauty is that you are hardcore loyal when it comes to relationships in your life. You make sure that every friendship and relationship is based on strong foundations. You provide stability and protection to your loved ones. You don't see people as competitors and this quality of you is such emanant that others envy you. Even those who are close to you. It's those who you cherish the most. They secretly want to cut your wings and they even do. Someone is fishy around you. Some of you may be great planners, adventurers, and artists. I sense strong Sagittarius and Capricorn placements. The thread that you bind with others is your beauty. How you intricate relationships with calm and how you give others space to pour their heart out is your beauty, pile 1. Your only weak point is you give others words more value than yours. And that's where you lose your beauty. New voices emerge in your head and keep feeding you with information about someone that you are not. Your beauty grows on people. It's slow but refreshing. You nurture others to the extent that you sometimes end up parenting them. You're so beautiful pile 1 save yourself from predators. Sending so much love your way. If you want to know your Divine Masculine/Feminine energy then feel free to drop a message in my Tumblr inbox. Below I am sharing my:

Rate Card

Booking Form

Pile 2

Tarot Cards: 9 of swords, 6 of wands, 3 of cups, 6 of swords, the hanged man, 7 of cups, 2 of wands, king of pentacles

Hello, my dear pile 2. I see something strange here. You stick to extremes. If you shift your perception and choose to see the situation upside down you'll notice what you've achieved till now. If you just keep aside the sleepless nights you'll see what those sleepless nights have given to you. They made you shine like a star in front of a crowd. You've been praised by many people in your lifetime. There may be many who broke your heart but there was always that one person who acted as the silver lining to your dark clouds. You're a great performer pile 2. You are a great friend. You are an overachiever despite facing so many challenges in your life. And you doubt your beauty? Come on!!!!! You have the quality of Jesus, self-sacrifice. You've sacrificed a lot to be where you are today. You are very good at balancing things, pile 2. Somewhere your career might be suffering nowadays but believe me you can manage. I hear, “We have come so far my dear look how we have grown.” Free yourself from all the wrong narratives of beauty you have got stuck in your brain. Beauty comes from within. Focus on grooming your soul and pull it out of the mud. You need emotional healing. You are too concerned about your relationships. You are everything a person can ask for. You don't need assurance from anybody. You don't even need it from me. You know that deep down ARE A BEAUTIFUL SOUL. Your dreams are waiting for you to achieve them. You think things through is your beauty. For some of you, I am getting that your sibling may be your strength. Those who stayed are the ones who know what you have. Those who force you to stay now don't know how to stop themselves from taking from you. You can sometimes be that addictive for people. Ask yourself what's there that you need to heal within. If you want to know your Divine Masculine/Feminine energy then feel free to drop a message in my Tumblr inbox. Below I am sharing my:

Rate Card

Booking Form

Pile 3

Tarot Cards: Temperance, The Fool, 5 of Pentacles, The Empress, Knight of Wands, The Star, 3 of Cups, 8 of Cups

Hello, my beautiful pile 3. I see that your beauty is that you stay with people through thick and thin. Even if you suffer you stay. You only walk away when you are not cherished or valued for what you are giving to another person. You have passion for life. You know your limits but you still carry yourself as if you are limitless. You stretch your dreams as far as you can. You are not afraid to demand. You don't think you deserve less but life at times throws difficulties your way. When the choice is needed to be made you realise that you're only human and you can only do so much. You have many wishes and there's no way that you feel you can't have them. Some of you may have life path 5. You are dreamers. Your beauty lies in your never-ending optimism. You work hard and smart. Your ideas are unmatchable. You not only think but show the world what we can dream we can achieve. I am amazed! So beautiful, pile 3. No one can stop you from achieving what you want and people around you know that. You have the strength to walk away from relationships that come in the way of your big goals. The world you want to create is just not about money. It's also about the community. As you have so many desires and things to do your life asks you to organize well so that you can perform tasks well and on time. It's important for you to not let yourself get involved in work that doesn't fit well with you. Your enthusiasm can sometimes take the best of you. Make sure you plan things through by not letting your passion go out of your hand. Last but not least you carry the faith of a child. If you once prayed for something you believe it's going to happen. It's a quality that adults struggle with but I am happy to see that you still carry faith in your heart. It is the only thing that is going to bring your dreams into reality. It's the most important ingredient, my friend. If you want to know your Divine Masculine/Feminine energy then feel free to drop a message in my Tumblr inbox. Below I am sharing my:

Rate Card

Booking Form

[hederasgarden]

can i request a soulmate au with six? specifically the soulmate aus where whatever you write or doodle on your skin appears on the other person’s?

i think it would be a neat way for him and soulmate to communicate when he’s away

Pairing: Sierra Six x F!Reader  Word Count: 507 Warning: Soulmate AU with some angst.  A/N: This is my first time writing a soulmate AU so please be gentle. Thanks to Mushu for reading this over. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist ♡Ryan Gosling Character Masterlist

On the morning of your birthday, you take a pen and write your name and address on your forearm. Then you wait, staring hopefully at the blank skin beneath the ink. Your soulmate, whoever they are, never writes back and each year you find yourself a little less optimistic about getting a response.

Perhaps he’s already happily in love with someone else. Maybe he simply doesn’t want you. You push away the more persistent thought that occasionally surfaces—maybe he’s dead. You don’t think that’s actually true, you’d feel it if he were.

Your family and friends do their best to make your day special, but your thoughts keep drifting back to your unanswered message. Everyone else you know has found their soulmate and it hurts to see them all so happy. Today, you wear long sleeves and try to push aside thoughts of what’s hidden beneath. You eat at your favorite restaurant and fill your day with activities. You've almost forgotten about the message until you get home and change for bed. 

Beneath your message is another. The ink is red and the letters are messy and jumbled. Your heart catches in your throat. 

I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?

You scramble for your desk, grabbing for the first pen you see and writing back quickly. Your hands shake so bad it's a miracle your words are legible.

Of course. Please. I want to meet you.

A minute later you get your answer. It's a simple message, but it confuses you.

Door.

Then you hear it—a soft but firm knock on your front door. Your heart leaps into your throat, and you hurry to the entrance. It doesn’t matter that you’re in ratty old pajamas or that your face is bare, stripped of the makeup you wear as a shield against the world. Your soulmate is here.

You fling the door open and gaze up at the man you find there. He’s holding a bouquet of half wilted flowers, standing perfectly still. His eyes are the bluest you’ve ever seen, and a full, pouty bottom lip is barely concealed by a neatly trimmed dark goatee. 

"Hey," you breathe, overwhelmed when he offers you a sweet but hesitant smile. “You’re here. Come in, come in,” you urge stepping back to give him space to pass you. 

"I'm sorry.” He stares at you, his eyes roving over your face. “I've....” he trails off, looking away. “There's a lot you don't know." 

"It doesn't matter," you tell him honestly.

He raises his hand as if he means to touch you only to draw away. He steps back but before he can get far you launch yourself at him, knocking into him. He stumbles but manages to catch you, and you bury your cheek against his chest, your joy at having him here eclipsing any shame or embarrassment. 

After a moment of hesitation, you feel his arms surround you and he rests his cheek against the top of your head. He sighs, and you hold him tighter. Whatever story he has to tell doesn’t matter right now; he’s real, alive, and here with you. That's all that matters.

[kitashousewife]

FUZZY BRAIN

an: im distracting myself but i haven't stopped thinking about this idea. so thought i would give it a spin. super super loosely based on my interpretation of fuzzybrain by dayglow!

pairings: timeskip!kuroo x fem!reader

warnings: slight angst, stress mentions, eating and drinking mentions, kuroo needs a nap :/

-

"how's your day going?"

"no, i don't need a receipt."

a very confused barista stares back at kuroo, who blinks back at her.

"wait, sorry," he grimaces and shakes his head. "my day is alright, how is yours?"

she responds, but he isn't really paying attention. lately, he hasn't been able to focus on much of anything. he grabs his coffee and heads back to the office, forgetting the embarrassing conversation before sitting down.

spring had finally arrived in japan, bringing an onslaught of responsibilities along with it. like the blossoms floating in the wind, different tasks and deadlines seemed to float their way onto kuroo's plate. his planner is full, daily agendas scribbled into whatever room remains. nothing seems to slow down. each item he crosses off is replaced with a new one in a matter of minutes.

he's scatterbrained.

"remember, we have that marketing meeting at five kuroo-san," one of his colleagues pats him on the back while sneaking behind his desk.

"oh, that's right," kuroo mumbles, flipping through the pages of his planner, finally reaching today's date. staring back at him, among the six other important things due today, is the meeting. highlighted, circled, and underlined. "see ya then."

he leans back and groans.

at this point, the due dates and deadlines aren't bothering him. he's almost numb, but comfortably so. he's found comfort in the hustle of it all, avoiding having nothing to do. his mind craves being busy.

his body disagrees.

kuroo's aching fingers rub at his eyes, preparing himself to stare at his computer monitor for the next few hours. dark circles have formed underneath his eyes, unmoving. his head throbs, but when is it not lately?

"kuroo-san, ushijima wakatoshi's manager called just now and wants to speak with you," one of the department's secretaries taps her palm on his desk, causing the mound of papers to slide slightly. his typing continues, and kuroo doesn't even notice.

"kuroo-san?"

his head shoots up. "sorry, did you say something?"

she gives him a sad smile.

"no, it's nothing. i'll tell them to call back."

as she clicks back to her desk, kuroo's brows furrow, before he cringes. just like this morning.

he's not sure how he got to this point. kuroo's always prided himself on his quick wit and problem-solving skills, as well as his hard work. he wouldn't have been able to imagine himself like this. overworked, exhausted, brain full of fuzz, and eyes bloodshot.

he doesn't recognize himself sometimes.

the day trudges on, the phone ringing constantly along with a steady flow of messages in his inbox. he crosses things off on his list, finally reaching the end. he smiles, with relief or pride he isn't quite sure. soon enough, it's time for his meeting, which means it's almost time to go home.

-

kuroo stumbles out of the door of his building, quickly brought to reality by the honk of a taxi and the shuffle of other commuters. he sighs, beginning the walk home.

it's times like these when he's thankful to live so close to work. all he wants is to get home, shower, and sleep. he smiles again, so close to being in the comfort of his own space, when his stomach growls.

then he frowns.

kuroo groans for what must be the tenth time today when he realizes that despite all of his meticulous planning and record keeping, he's forgotten to get groceries this week. at this point, he's past all of his regular takeout places. closing his eyes with sigh, he crosses the street to enter the small neighborhood market.

his fingers rub against his tight neck, sliding around to loosen his tie before grabbing a basket. he wracks his brain, attempting to come up with any dinner ideas for the evening. nearly walking into the door, kuroo tries to remember what's in his fridge at the moment.

"welcome in!"

"you too," he half waves at the cashier, their own waving hand slowly falling in confusion. kuroo remembers the chicken in his fridge, and finally begins to form a menu. he grabs a few veggies, an extra bag of rice, and heads into the last isle. his hand grabs a bottle of oil, and he stops.

his brows pinch together, staring down the bottle in his hand. why did i grab this?

he shakes his head. his mind races, trying to remember any sort of thoughts he had before grabbing this. he blinks, running recipes through his mind before letting out an irritating huff.

"what is this even for?"

"frying things, usually,"

"what?"

you blink up at him, grabbing ingredients of your own for your basket. his eyes widen.

"oh my god, i'm so sorry. i don't-" he cuts himself off. "i'm so tired."

confused at his sudden raw honesty with a stranger, he scratches the back of his head.

"don't worry about it," you reach for a bottle of your own. "i've been there."

his fingers tap the side of his basket.

"how did you cope?"

you smile at him.

"it's okay to take a break. i mean i don't know what you do for work," you gesture towards his tie. he looks down at it and chuckles. "but everyone deserves to rest."

he nods. he could cry, honestly. this is the first real, non-work-related conversation he's had in weeks.

"making something good?"

he laughs. "i can't remember."

your wrist spins your basket at your side. you do feel for this stranger. the second you walked into the aisle, you noticed how tired he looked. the vacant stare and slow blinks said it all.

"you need to eat."

he snorts. "i don't think i have the energy to cook anything. i'm trying to talk myself out of swapping all of this for a frozen pizza,"

you smile, holding up your basket, displaying just that.

"nothing wrong with that!"

every second kuroo spends talking to you in this too-crowded aisle is melting the stress from his shoulders. he's tired, so tired but he doesn't want this to end.

"i want to see you," he slides the basket further up his arm, patting his pockets with his palms. "again i mean. i want to see you again. can i?"

you look up at the handsome stranger again, smiling when you notice a grin of his own.

"s-sure. need a pen?"

"if you've got one. i don't think i'd be able to remember a phone number tonight."

you dig in your purse for a pen, flipping an old receipt over to scribble your name and number down for him. after you hand it to him, he repeats your name.

"i'm kuroo, kuroo tetsuro. sorry for not introducing myself earlier," he mumbles, suddenly feeling a little shy. his vulnerability catching up to him at last.

"well kuroo, i hope you remember to call." you place the frozen pizza in his basket and walk towards the check stands. "cause i would love to see you."

kuroo smiles wide, the words he was going to say dying on the tip of his tongue.

while he enjoys his frozen pizza that night, still in his work clothes on the couch, he calls you.

he decides before the sun even sets that he's calling out tomorrow. he's going to sleep in, as long as his body allows. and he's going to see you. but this time he will give you his full attention.

kuroo's not a believer in fate, but you just might make him one.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Blind Offer 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a leak causes you to evacuate your apartment, your landlord offers a vacant unit that’s too good to be true. (short!plus!reader)

Character: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Lloyd Hansen, and August Walker

Note: Monday was like a punch in the face. This is one of my Corrupt-A-Wish requests but I won’t reveal which one right away because it’ll be part of the plot!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

It’s not often you manage to sleep in. It’s a true feat for you to wake up after nine on your days off and not lay wakeless and frustrated at six in the morning. Despite this, you feel less than rejuvenated. In fact, you’re exhausted as you sit up and rub your eyes with the heels of your hand.

Dizziness follows you from the bed as you stumble to the bathroom. After letting out the pressure in your bladder, you rinse your face with cold water in an attempt to chase away the dregs of fatigue. You grumble and leave your reflection in the dark.

You snatch up your phone and head downstairs. You flip through your notifs, including a message from your landlord. You’re not entirely surprised by the good night. He seems to struggle with his social filter and timing. Sending you sweet dreams after midnight isn’t exactly sauve.

Whatever. He’s a bit strange but he could’ve lied and charged you for the washer. He could’ve even made you pay for a hotel. As odd as this whole arrangement has become, your complaints can’t outweigh the trouble saved.

You set up the coffee machine to brew and turn to lean in the crook of the counter, enamoured with your phone. You know it’s bad to just sit there staring at a screen at first light but you’re slightly disoriented. You feel like you have to do something to keep from thinking too much.

The coffee is a bit strong. You choke it down as you bring up your inbox. Maybe you should check in about the apartment. Today would be perfect to get back to normal. You have a stretch of five days coming up and you would rather not be scrambling to pack up on a work night.

You bring up Steve’s chat and ignore his last text; ‘sweet dreams, sweetheart ✨’. That’s better left unacknowledged. 

‘Hey, wondering what it’s looking like at my apartment. When do you think it’ll be ready?’

You hit send and stare into the depth of your coffee. The taste isn’t what you’re used to. You like a lighter roast over the smoky dark flavour. You force it down for the much-needed dose of caffeine and rinse the cup. You pause and stare at the dish rack. It’s empty.

You set your glass inside and reach to open the cupboard above. All the dishes are neatly stacked. The plate you used last night set with the rest. The pans are away and the cutlery too. You swore you left them to dry.

You shake off the ripple of unease. Your phone buzzes and you look down at the incoming call. He can’t just text?

You answer it, clearing your throat before you croak out a hello.

“Hey, uh, sorry I haven’t updated you. Been pretty busy,” Steve jumps right in. You can hear activity on his end of the line, “it’s not looking like this will be done today.”

“Oh, really?” You sigh, “well, okay. Thanks for letting me know–”

“Rogers–” Someone calls from his end and he quickly shushes them.

“Yeah, it’s turning out to be a bigger issue than I thought but if you need anything at all, let me know.”

“Of course, thanks. Um, I’ll let you go. You sound pretty busy.”

“Just a lit–”

The line cuts off. You pull the phone away from your cheek and look at the screen. The timer is paused and the call moves to your history. You’re sure if there’s anything important, Steve will call you back.

You bring up the tab viewer and clear away all the windows. You open a new app and stare at the logo, waiting for it to load. It doesn’t. You close out and try again. Hmm. You pull down the menu and check the wifi; connected without internet. Really?

You notice the bars at the top of your phone are gone too, a circle with a line blink over them. No service either. What the hell? A tower might be out. You put your phone screen down and leave it in the kitchen. You’ll give it twenty and hope it’s back up once you’re dressed.

Upstairs, you dig out an outfit to lounge around in and start on your daily routine. Brush your teeth, cleanse, moisturise, the very basics that make you feel human. Usually, the process renews you but today, everything is a task. You feel and look drawn.

You pull on your lavender sweat and plain white tank. You go back downstairs and retrieve your phone. Still no signal. That means you have to entertain yourself. Or… maybe you can find a coffee shop with a functioning hotspot. You could use something sweet after the bitter dark roast.

You pull on your sneakers and slide your phone into your purse. You jingle the keys as you approach the door. You tend to use the doorcode, it’s just easier, but just in case the wifi is messing with the system. You flip the latch back then grab the handle and twist.

The door doesn’t budge. You try again, yanking harder. You use both hands, pulling on it until you’re out of breath. What the fuck? Are you locked in?

You go to the small box mounted beside the door and check the screen. Armed and secured. Okay? You punch in the code Steve sent you but the thing just beeps at you five times and shows ‘incorrect passcode’. You try again, making sure you punch it in slowly so you don’t get any numbers backwards. The same incessant beeping sounds.

“Ugh!” You cross your arms and step back. You can’t even call Steve to tell him.

You fish out your phone and raise it above you. You walk through each room, trying to find a signal. Nothing. You sniff and try to disconnect and reconnect to the wifi. It doesn’t work. You don’t even know where the router is to reset it.

Panic starts to crawl its way up your body. This is so strange. You’re trapped here, alone, isolated. On your day off, too.

You put your purse down and your phone and go to the window in the front room. Try to push it open but it won’t move. The clasp does nothing to free it and your distress begins to build. What is going on?

You lean forward and look outside, hoping you might chance on an elusive neighbour or a passerby. Nothing. The street is just as empty as usual. 

What do you do? Just sit and wait? You’re at a loss.

You stagger back and fall heavily onto the couch, holding your head in your hands. Something isn’t right, you can feel it, but your mind nips at your intuition. It’s nothing. These things happen. Bad luck comes in threes; broken washer, shitty encounters, and now, you’re cut off from the world. 

You’re through the worst, right?

🖤

You doze off in the tedium of your new wireless existence. You don’t realise until you come too, face down on the leather couch with an arm hanging down to the floor. You bend your elbow and push yourself up, a pang sparking across your lower back from the stiff cushions. You look around, searching for your bearings.

You lean forward and take your phone. It’s been almost two hours since the world shut you out. The service bar is still blinking and the wireless is still disconnected. Goddamn it!

You climb to your feet and shake your head, trying to free yourself from the cobwebs. You’re hungry. You should eat. It’ll give you something to do.

You take out the prepackaged salad in a plastic container. You should eat it before it starts to wilt. You pop the lid off and add the little packets of nuts and cranberries, then drizzle over the dressing. You stir around the leaves, coating them with the oily vinaigrette.

You eat slowly, staring at the fridge and the touchscreen set into it. Fancy fridge. Fancy everything in this place. You almost miss the simplicity of your rattling fridge and leaky washer.

You get about halfway through the salad and give up on the dry kale. Not enough dressing in the world can make that good. You close up the container and put it back in the fridge.

You trail back up the hall to the entryway. You grab the handle again, wrench as you pull on it with all your might. You plant your feet and grunt, fighting to pull it from the frame. You stop and flip the latch, thinking maybe you accidentally locked it. Nope, still stuck.

“It’s not going to open,” a voice echoes from the high ceilings.

You spin and press your back to the door, looking around frantically for the intruder. You don’t know that voice. There’s no one there. Oh god, are you going crazy?

“What the fuck is going on?” You ask aloud, cringing as you realise that is definitely insane. You’re talking to a house.

“I said, it won’t open,” the deep timbre comes again. You gulp.

“Wh- where are you? What– Who–” you sputter, confused at what’s going on. You push away from the door and spin, searching for a shadow or ghost. Whatever it is that’s possessed this place.

“I can see you but you can’t see me,” the narrator says.

You still and turn back to face the security box. Still armed and secured. You pivot slowly, searching the walls and the corners.

Even if you found the cameras, what would you do?”

You squeak and clap your hands together. Okay, this is fucked up. This has to be a nightmare. You close your eyes and bow your head, willing yourself to wake up.

“Rogers is right. You’re a nervous one.”

You pop your head up and stare at the ceiling, “what are you talking about? What is going on?”

The voice laughs. You shake your head as you sink your nails into the back of your hands, clenching them tight. Your heart pounds behind your ears, spinning your head.

“Steve? You know Steve?” You ask desperately.

“Doll, you can ask all the questions you want. You give answers, I don’t.”

You whimper, eyes wetting in horror. This can’t be real. It can’t be. Whatever this is, Steve will come and let you out. Whoever this creep is who hacked his system if just fucking with you.

“Shut up,” you snap, “you… you weirdo. What the fuck?”

“You got a filthy mouth,” he rebukes, “lady’s shouldn’t talk like that.”

You reel and stammer. You scoff and pull your hands apart, trying to steady yourself, “fuck you, dude. Men shouldn’t be doing whatever the fuck it is you’re doing. Spying on me, or whatever.”

There’s a click and silence. You wait for a response. Nothing. You spin again, searching. “Hello?”

Your voice reverberates around you. No answer. Just the still, stolid silence of the house.

A low whir underlines the quiet and you face the door again. The narrow windows along either side begin to disappear. You can’t believe your eyes. Black barriers descend over the glass and block out the sun.

You rush into the front room, finding the same thing on the wide bay window. You rush over but can’t stop it, recoiling before the barrier can crush you. Shit, shit, shit. 

“What is happening?” You holler as you face the open room.

Again, you’re left with your own question. You don’t get it. Is this a joke? Wait, what if this isn’t Steve’s place? You were always told not to trust a landlord…

🖤

You pace and pace until your legs give out. You're weak and wilted. Your mind as addled as your body. You don't get it!

You cry out, begging for an answer; what's happening? Who is this bodiless voice? What do they want from you?

Is this what it's like to snap? To enter psychosis? It can't be real yet you don't think you could machinate such a fantastical terror on your own.

You lay in a heap on the floor, waiting for whatever comes next. It's all you can do. Your fingers are bruised and scraped from clawing at the door and windows. Your eyes are swollen from the flow of tears that rises without permission only to recede to a pulsing anger that makes your skull throb.

You hear a jingle. Digital and bubbly. You pop up and reach for your phone. You keep it on vibrate but you never know. No change. No service.

You huff. What the fuck was that? You clasp your phone tight and wobble to your feet. You walk between the couch and the low coffee table, following the jingle as it sounds again.

You enter the kitchen and find the screen of the Amazon Echo flashing at you from the counter. Where it once displayed the time and weather, you see a blaring font. You get closer and lean in to read it.

'Go to your room. Put the dress on.'

You blink. Huh? What dress? You don't wear dresses. You shake your head and stand straight, looking up at the ceiling.

The device chimes again. You read the new message. 'Do it.'

You sigh. What the hell is this dystopian fever dream?

The screen clears, a new message; 'bad girl, your disobedience has been noted.'

Your chest knots. You don't like the sound of that. It's both frightening and enraging.

You tap the screen. Maybe you can access something through there. Maybe get the wifi working. It does the respond to your touch, it changes again.

'Turn around.'

You retract your hand and stand stalk straight. Eyes wide. You quiver as you slowly shift around. You shield yourself, expecting someone to be waiting for you.

You only find the small flatscreen mounted in the corner of the kitchen lit up. The TV screen plays the very scene you stand in. You get closer, lowering your arm as the figure on the screen does the same. The angle is high, you follow it up to the corner.

You take as step back and glance again at the smart screen on the counter. You jump as music erupts from it, a song you know, that you heard recently. 

'The world is a vampire Sent to drain Secret destroyers Hold you up to the flames And what do I get for my pain? Betrayed desires And a piece of the game'

Another message blips up on the screen. You near, hugging yourself as you read it.

'Last chance.'

You shudder and nearly swallow your tongue. You should be defiant. Be strong and stand your ground. You're utterly terrified. Is it Steve? Did he do this?

You turn solemnly away, accepting defeat. You enter the front room and almost in a trance, traipse up the stairs and down the hall. You stop in the doorway of the bedroom. You gasp.

There's a dress on your bed. It wasn't there before. You've never seen it. The red checker pattern, the wrap cut. It's old fashioned in a way. 

The music wafts up louder from the first floor. You spin back to the empty hallway. Someone else was here… are they still there?

[daxerian]

Out of all, you are my favourite flower

Mick Shumacher x Reader

Warnings: FLUFF, and my wonderful grammar😜

Words: it's 3:20am please, this info is too much to ask for

A/N: So basically I'm kinda sick rn again😻🤞🏼 and I was too lazy to write another fic but here I am at 3:20am ❤️

Also I read every comment, inbox message, etc. And I am so incredibly greatful for the ideas, sweet messages and all❤️❤️ and I will be writing soon enough the ideas you guys left on here ‼️ and take care, stay hydrated and don't lose your lip balm!!! Now enjoy reading 🧁

Mick Schumacher dashed into the quiet flower shop, his racing heart matching his hurried footsteps. He had promised his friend a gift for the birthday party they were attending, but in his rush, he had forgotten to buy one. His eyes scanned the vibrant display of blooms, searching for the perfect gift.

"Excuse me, do you need any help?" a sweet voice called out from behind the counter. "Um, well yes! I'm attending a birthday party and I forgot to buy a gift in all that rush, would you mind helping in any sort of way?" Mick was honestly surprised he could say more than one sentence without stuttering because, in his eyes, he was talking to the most beautiful woman ever to walk on earth.

"Well, to save you some time, you can pick one of the pre-made flowers we made this morning or you could pick some flowers and we can do a custom bouquet for you." Y/N softly told Mick the two options he could pick from with a smile on her face. "If we did a custom one, how long would it take?" Mick asked her, "About 10 minutes? It also depends on what kind of bouquet and how many types of flowers you want" Y/N once again answered softly with a happy face.

"Ooh, I'm afraid I don't have a lot of time to wait out for that custom one" Mick told her, "Oh, no worries! You can take a look and pick out one of the pre-made ones" Y/N told Mick with this tone in her voice that made Mick feel this weird but in a good way..

"These are all so beautiful too, which one do you like the most?" Mick asked Y/N, of course, he would go with the classic red roses but he wanted to talk to her more, "Well I would choose the one with peonies and irises, since it's giving such a fresh look and never looks bad anywhere you know? And it's also one of my favorites so that's the other reason" Mick listened to Y/N carefully, making mental notes to himself that Y/N likes peonies and irises together.

"I'll gladly take them then" Mick smiled while looking at her. "Perfect choice! That would be 27 euros" Y/N told him. Mick paid, thanked Y/N for her time and was now rushing to the party destination.

"Honey, I bet he's gonna come soon again" Y/N's colleague and friend, Layla, told her once Mick left the shop. "And what do you mean by that Lala?" Y/N asked Layla with curiosity in her. "He was looking at you like you were some kind of goddess, and with these big love heart eyes" Layla was now excited to tease her friend a bit, since she only told the truth, she could have all that fun in the world.

"He wasn't! He needed help and I helped him, that's part of our job you know?" Y/N told her, trying to deny the fact that Mick was looking at her like that. "Now what exactly are you trying to deny?" Layla asked Y/N, raising her eyebrow because she saw all of those lovie-dovie looks he was giving her friend. "Nothing Lala! I'm just saying the basic facts, he needed help and that's what I did, helped him" Y/N told her.

"So you are telling me that a man that's in a rush stops his spinning world just to talk to you more? Girl, you know damn well that if someone is in a rush they just pick out these pre-made flowers that we put our souls into, pay and leave, running to their destination so they can look like they are on time. And that man stopped his rush mode to listen to you, to adore your passion about this whole flower business, and I'm telling you, he'll come back soon" Layla just told her friend the truth, she wanted Y/N to understand that the stranger that came to the shop was gonna return, for her.

-----

2 weeks passed and Layla was right. Mick Schumacher was back in the flower shop again, but this time more chilled with no intention of rushing to get somewhere. "Hello, how was your day so far?" Mick asked Y/N with a smile on his face, "Welcome again! I'm feeling perfect, what can I help you with today?" Y/N was happy to see Mick back in the shop, but she also knew that Layla wouldn't shut up about how right she was.

"Could we do a custom bouquet today?" Mick asked, "I hope we don't have to rush it this time" Y/N laughed a bit, bringing up the situation from 2 weeks ago. "No rush today" Mick laughed alongside her, oh how pretty she looked with her hair down. He thought to himself, "So a special bouquet for somebody, who might that person be?" Y/N asked him, to know a bit about the person she's gonna be making a bouquet for, because it can't be just good, it needs to be perfect.

"For my mum, she's visiting after what seems like a long time" Mick answered her question, having this cheeky smile on. "A special bouquet for a special person then," Y/N told him. "Yeah, and she likes roses kinda classic but I don't want to get her only roses, and I have no idea what goes with them" Mick told her. "They go along with a lot of types of flowers, one of the more fresh combos that I recommend to people are these pinkish roses with daisies and dahlias but maybe, for a more classic red rose bouquet, you could just do with a few baby's-breath, the little white flowers."

Mick listened, he could honestly listen to her talking about different types of flowers all day and wouldn't get tired of it."Let's do the fresh one you like to recommend to people" Mick told her, "Okay, perfect" and just like that Y/N started working her magic on the flowers. "So, I never quite caught your name?" Mick told her, "It's Y/N" She answered him, not looking at him but only focusing on the flowers. "Beautiful name for a beautiful woman" Mick told her while truly admiring her, he never met anybody with such a dedication and love towards flowers. And that's what made him like her, adore her, love her.

"What's your name" Y/N asked him, "Mick" "That's a very beautiful name, Mick" Y/N looked at him and gave him a soft smile before continuing her job. And the two of them made a small talk, got to know each other a bit more and then came the time when Mick had to pay and leave. "28€ today" Y/N told Mick, "There you go, and thank you so much again Y/N" Mick told her after he paid, "No problem, I hope your mum will like them" Y/N told him before they told each other goodbyes.

"And you didn't believe me, honey" Layla told her, feeling proud of herself that Mick had come again. "You should start listening to me more" she also added. "I will listen to you more than ever before Queen Lala" Y/N told her friend.

-----

*time skip to like a year later cause I don't have the energy to write everything 😔*

After months of being friends, Mick finally got brave enough to ask Y/N to be his girlfriend and of course, she said yes. (My dream fr, sorry) Now the two of them were having a lazy evening in Mick's apartment, a movie they weren't paying attention to and just focusing on each other's company. "You know Mick, out of all, you are my favourite flower" Y/N told him, "And you are my favourite thrilling memory, Meine Liebe"

❤️❤️

[cry-baby139]

Hello!

Maybe if there is no continuation, because you know, a year has already passed... Maybe we could get a post that briefly summarized what happened next in the fanfiction?

If you think that people have forgotten, you are deeply mistaken:)

Hello!!!

I am so sorry for the late reply, this has been in my inbox since January! Though I thought I‘d be back, life had other plans for me.

But to answer your question right away: the First chapter of the trilogy’s third and last part will be released next month !

I said it and I won‘t take it back :)

If you’re still interested in the story you‘ll only have to wait a few weeks 🫶

I don’t want to tell you too much about what will happen, but the character‘s breaking points will be reached and decisions will be made. There‘ll be lots of angst & drama but also comfort and fluff. 🤭

I don’t know if you‘re (or anyone else) is still waiting for the third part, but if you are, I appreciate your support! ❤️ I was so close to just abandon the fic, but if at least one person will read and enjoy it, all the work was worth it in the end :)

I‘ve missed you all so much, and I‘m so happy to finally be able to continue writing the story

Thank you so much for your sweet message and your unlimited patience, it means a whole lot to me! 💕💕

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

Hello my darlings! I haven’t forgotten about you and I see all of your messages in my inbox. However, my physical health is not too great at the moment and my energy mainly goes into all the basic stuff like my job and errands and other responsibilities. I have so many ideas but zero energy to type them out. I hope to have it all figured out soon, but I wanted you guys to get an update. Talk to you soon, hopefully!

[magicaloneandmystery]

easy to love. (p.p. x reader)

pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x reader

summary: Peter is relentlessly there to help pick you up when you are too tired to do the same.

warnings: heavy negative self-talk, allusions to depression, please don't read this if you are not comfortable with either of these. additionally, my inbox and messages are always open if you ever want to vent about anything

word count: about 850 words

a/n: if you are suffering or even slightly down today, take this as your reminder that you are loved, cared for, and you matter. sending so many hugs to all of your way <3

(gif not mine, credits to the owner/creator)

you had been in bed since morning and it was 2 pm now. 

suffice it to say, it was a bad day.

you were drowning in your thoughts, unable to distinguish the light on the surface from the darkness of the depths. you were not sure if there was any surface, to be honest.

you had forgotten to call in from your work in the haze that surrounded you but left a message about an hour earlier, a simple text to your boss that read apologies for not coming in today, feeling a bit sick. 

bless her heart, you were only met with a text saying are you okay? that was left on read.

you should answer that soon.

there were several other texts you were yet to reply to, the most glaring ones being from Peter.

good morning sweetheart was the first one.

you okay? after a few hours of no reply.

y/n talk to me, please? was the last one.

you wanted to talk to him so bad, but it was much easier staying there and pretending the world didn’t exist for as long as you could, as long as it was viable. 

you didn’t realise it was way later than 2 pm when you suddenly turned in your bed to see the darkened skies. you supposed time flies when all you do is lie beneath your covers thinking about all the reasons you couldn’t get up. (more often than not coming up with none.)

you jumped when a knock sounded on your window but didn’t remove the blanket from your face to see who it was. you knew who it was, you were just hoping he left you alone.

alas, that hope went out the window (no pun intended) when he stepped into your room. you wished you had turned the lock on them but in your state last night it didn’t matter whether they were on or not. no amount of locks could ensure that you felt safe.

“you should not leave your windows unlocked like that, sweetheart,” he said, noticing the piles of clothes in two places. apart from that, though, your room was organised like it usually was. not a lot of people could’ve said something was wrong by looking at your room.

“I know you’re awake, it’s fine if you don’t wanna talk to me,” he sighed. he was disappointed in you. you should get up and talk to him. greet him, at least. he came all this way just for you. and here you are, lying there like you don’t want it, want him. ungrateful brat. “did you have something to eat?"

you wondered why he bothered trying.

“y/n,” he sat down next to you. his ungloved hand came into your view as he tucked away the blanket a bit. you realised he wasn’t wearing his suit. did he not come here after his patrol?

you’re disrupting spider-man too. selfish selfish selfish.

“babe,” he started, stroking your cheek. “just give me a simple nod if you want me here. I’ll be gone if you don’t.”

tears were pooling in your eyes. you wanted him gone but more than that, you knew you needed him here. it was unfair to still need him for anything.

gathering all your strength, you nodded once.

his fingers gently wiped away the tears that managed to spill over. 

"I love you," he said, before leaning down and kissing your forehead. your eyes shut tightly, undeserving of his love, his beauty, his warmth. "I'm gonna clean this room a little, okay? I must say, you've managed it quite well already."

you knew he was lying but it made the pressure holding you down lift a little. maybe you were not a complete failure.

a few minutes of his cleaning had put some life back into your body, making it easier to breathe in and out. you moved into a sitting position by your bed, legs hanging off its side.

"hey, bug," Peter grinned, triumph swimming in his eyes. "wanna eat something?"

you nodded after some time, contemplating.

"something light? I was thinking of some soup."

you nodded again.

"be right back!" he skipped out of the room, already familiar with your apartment enough to know where all the ingredients were kept.

you listened to the clanging of the utensils for some time, head bent in the doorway’s direction. slowly, you stretched your legs and decided to join him. walking seemed to take tremendous effort but when you saw Peter, his back to you, stirring the pot on your stove, making food for you. the realisation felt heavy but it seemed to make your steps lighter all the same. maybe you could be loved.

“hello there,” he called out to you. his senses were already attuned to you, and his heart fluttered wildly when he realised you were joining him in the kitchen. he stretched his hand out to you, sighing when your body slotted itself to his side as you both stared at the boiling soup.

as your head rested on his shoulder, eyes fixated forward, you realised it’s very easy to love Peter Parker. sometimes, that was all you needed. a reminder you could love.

phew, thanks for reading if you did!! comments and reblogs are much appreciated :) please do remember to check in with your closed ones and to never be afraid to ask for help.

[writing-for-life]

March Mania: Sandman Edition

The lovely @tickldpnk8 and I are art aficionados and Sandman meta writers. And one fine Friday, she just slid into my inbox and went, “What if…”

And if you have Sandman brain-rot, a “What if” quickly turns into a “Let’s do it!”

After much plotting, planning and sourcing material, we proudly present “March Mania: Sandman Edition”—a bracket tournament/poll/event over roughly four weeks that involves all original Sandman artists until only three are standing in a final show-down.

Well, all artists is a lie. We had criteria for qualification, and they are as follows:

Only artists involved in Gaiman’s original run of The Sandman qualify. That also includes Overture, Endless Nights and Dream Hunters.

Only the main artist of an issue qualifies. This is usually the penciller or the “artist” (where no inking and/or colouring by a second or third person is involved). Inkers and colourists unfortunately do not qualify on this occasion (unless they were the main artist in another issue).

This year, we will make it all about, “Who drew your favourite Dream?” And as such, his face needed to be visible in at least one panel to qualify the artist. Both Morpheus and Daniel qualify—they’re both Dream after all.

Even after applying all criteria, we were left with an impressive count of 24 artists. And from tomorrow (March 25), they will go head-to-head in round one:

We will post one poll each day, and you can vote for your favourite artist for 24 hours. So please share the polls so as many people as possible can vote. You will find them via the tag #sandman march mania.

And if that’s all you want to/can do, we’re super happy, because we wanted to create an event that is low effort to participate in while still being fun and hopefully bringing those artists back into your memory that you might have forgotten about (that’s why it’s not really a competition, because all of these artists are amazing in their own way). Let’s all remember:

The Sandman would not exist without its amazing artists. They deserve every bit of praise.

But it doesn’t need to stop there. In the true spirit of any fandom-event, no matter how small, of course we’d love you to participate beyond just voting for your favourite.

Each poll will contain a quick reminder of the issues the artist has illustrated so you can refresh your memory.

Maybe you’d like to share your favourite panels in the reblogs, or write what you love about your favourite artist?

Maybe you are aware of other work they have done (comics, book illustrations, commissions) you’d like to share?

Help us turn the reblogs into a colourful appreciation of your favourite artist, in whatever way you see fit.

And if you have any questions, hit up @writing-for-life and @tickldpnk8 as the event organisers. We so look forward to sharing our love for these artists and hope you join in.

Spread the message far and wide, and we’ll see you all tomorrow for the first poll (we’ll post 6pm/London each day with a few time zone reblogs thrown in)!