#BLESS THANK YOUUU

[coolnonsenseworld]

THIS IS SUCH A SWEET FRAGMENT!!!!! I THINK IT UNLOCKS THE ART INTO PUBLIC, IT WAS THIS ONE WASNT IT

Healing Pods

based on a piece from @coolnonsenseworld's 52 Weeks of KICK 2021 PDF

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Lance sits on the top step leading to the healing pods. He stares up at Keith, caught by his dark gaze. Ever since he came back to consciousness, Keith hasn‘t spoken a word, just continues to look at him as if afraid Lance will vanish the second he blinks. And considering the state of Lance after that battle, it’s understandable.

“You almost died,” Keith says, crossing his arms. “I think I have that right.”

“You gonna lecture me?”

Leaning in, Keith asks, “Will it work?” Fresh out of the healing pod, Lance is still clothed in that white bodysuit, and Keith starts to trace all the angles it reveals, the cut of his shoulders and swell of his biceps. Memorizing him in case he loses the chance to do so again.

Lance shakes his head, getting lost to that touch. “I think it’ll have the same effect that my lectures about self-sacrificing have on you,” he says in complete honesty. 

Keith’s mouth twists at the answer, but he reluctantly accepts it with a sigh. He moves his hand back up to the side of Lance’s face. His fingers bury in Lance’s hair and his thumb rests under Lance’ chin. Keith tilts Lance’s head up as he leans down, kissing him, open mouthed and careful, tentative. Lance releases a soft gasp. He draws Keith in closer by the waist, knee sliding between Keith’s legs, trapping him between his thighs.

“You almost died,” he whispers again, as if making it a running chant in his head to remind himself of what didn’t happen. He breaks from the kiss with silent tears slide down his cheeks.

Lance reaches up to wipe them away, smearing them across the pad of his thumb. “I survived.”

“You did.” Keith’s voice hitches in his throat. “Thank you.”

Lance pulls Keith towards him until their bodies are flushed and they fall back onto the ground, holding each other, never letting go.

[dominiqueramseyart]

Art stolen

Hey ya'll!

Thankfully, someone notified me that my Jayfeather fan art is being used on Print Cool WITHOUT my permission. If you see this, DO NOT buy it, I did not license the art to be used on this website (and this is not my own IP anyway it is Harper Collins).

[messymoonmad]

(Tumblr ruined the image quality press on it)

The suitors were harsh to each other when they first met due to others being competition but when they realised Penelope wasn’t gonna choose they warmed up to eachother.

Eurymachus and Antinous were very harsh to each other, but it was at this moment that Eurymachus realised he had the hots for Antinous. And when I say I have a new found hatred for drawing their hair I mean it it was so annoying😭

OMG THANK YOU FOR THIS ART?? I love it sm I wanted to redraw it ~

I love your hc !!!

[teddybeartoji]

a few lizards for your viewing pleasure :3

(am i a good sugar daddy yet :333)

WHAT THE HELLL YOU HAVE LIZARDS RUNNING AROUND!!!!!!!!!!!! THAT'S SO FUCKING COOL HELLOO THEY LOOK SO CUTE I WANT THEM TO BE MY FRIENDS

^ this is how i'm staring at themqhhdsjhsjahs

[mashamorevvna]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

(@femmeharel) thank youuuuu to the both of youuuu 🥺🥺🥺

also *voice of a person who has only written five fics* damn, however will i ever be able to select five fics, just five of my beautiful children while leaving the rest out in the cold. (unserious way to say i dont have to sophie's choice my children, so might as well rank them instead)

babygirl numero 1: "it would not be i any longer (it would be we, it would be us)" stricly speaking, my worst stats-wise and the most niche but i love it so dearly. will never not plug my minthara de winter fic bc it is everything i would want to read: crazy psychosexual drama; gothic pastiche; unwell people making ill adivsed decisions. one day it might even be finished too!

babygirl numero 2: "you've a gift for hating (you should know, you're the expert)" the lion in winter-esque adversarial relationship between my two strongest character fixations for bg3, how could i not love it dearly. also extremely proud of the fact that i do, after months, still think the setup and the chemistry just work and are believable. hardest part of writing for non-existant pairs

babygirl numero 3: "I wish the hand of god would come and relieve me of this way" just really love how well i pulled the selene&isobel simmetry here. sincerely incredible result on my part

babygirl numero 4: "the world is not enough (but it's a wonderful place to start)" triangulation of desire: the fic. love it very dearly, it was my first fanfic after something like three years and it still holds up. very bataillean.

babygirl numero 5: "Appel du Vide" really proud of how i challenged myself at writing smut, which im not super interested into and not very good at it besides, and to do it as fucked up as i wanted. incredibly offputting sex, love it tremendously

[cafffeineconnoisseur]

BEAN

KITI GODU AAHE TE OMG ITHE AAN YA PILLU LA PLS 😭😭😭😭

[this-orange-anon024]

Hallo! I was told that I had perfected the blue chocolate chip cookies recipe! So I wanted to share with you!

*holds up a plate of a dozen cookies* -🪷

@gremlinlotusannonhere

Ooooo! They do look tasty! Thanks! ( °u°)/🍪🌀

(they take one of the dozens to taste)

Guess one can't hur-

(-GASSP- )

OPENNN THE FLOOOD GATES OF HEEEEAAAVEEEENNNN LEEEET IT RAaAaAaAaAAAAAAIIIINN!!!!!

Lotus, these are the best cookies I ever had!!! :D

[the-type-a]

At work

Me: I’m Peruvian and Salvadoran

Coworker: Oooh Peruvian’s have that good hair.

Me, literally:

[moth13w]

ALSO thank you to @the-human-with-no-social-skills for this beautiful christmas gift of my favourite oc (and also my pfp because its my pfp now). it's AMAZINGG AAUHDVHOWKSGKHSVKSHWV THANKK YOUU 💗💞💗💞💞💗💞💫💫💗💞💗🫶🫶🫶

[wenellyb]

just wanted to say ur one of my fav blogs out there! it’s pretty rare for me to find another blog that is involved in basically all the same fandoms & has the same opinions about them as me LOL. super rad 💝💝

Hi Anon!!!! Thank you so much, this message made me so emotional. I really appreciate it and appreciate you.

And yeah it's really rare to find someone with similar tastes especially on Tumblr 😂 I'm happy we share fandoms then!

[punk-in-docs]

Hello there ☺️ you know I’ve wanted to message you for awhile and tell you that I love all your stories. I’ve read your entire master list multiple times. I will admit I went out tonight and am a little tipsy (which is why I am finally messaging you because I am a little braverr) but I love reading your stuff and even just looking at your blog. Makes me feel a little less alone

Babe when I tell you this message genuinely carried me through my entire day. Oh my goodness. Thank you so much! Seriously I’m not at all scary.

Message me any time you want! Day or night I’m always ready (Randy) to chat about fics and our fav blorbos. I promise I’m not actually coherent and at all together or neat as a person. Whatever image you have conjured of me irl is not true at all. No Rizz. No Game. Complete loser right here.

I’m basically four quokkas in a trench coat. You’re so sweet leaving such an amazing message like this. @h0nest Appreciate you times a thousand billion my love. 💕💕💕💗💕

[crowsy]

^^

take it.

[sinnersserve]

JANNIK SINNER VLOG OMGOMGOMG NOT A DRILL😭😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏

[astarionhistears]

drop this sunflower🌻into the inboxes of the blogs that make you happy! lets spread a little sunshine ☀️ 🖤🖤

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

@mossmurdock @teddybeartoji

so, um, er, Laios

[whosashan]

hello! good day to youuu, can i make a request for the lads men? in which reader is not the mc and here's the prompt: having to beg them to do something with you then seeing them doing it with mc willingly, sorry english is not my first language but pleaaaseeee 😭 i love some angst.

Bitter

Pt. 2

PAIRING: Love and Deepspace men x non-mc!reader

SYNOPSIS: Watching the one you love partake in what you once pleaded to share—a quiet betrayal—feels like an arrow through the heart, swift and merciless. (angst, no comfort)

A/N: Thank you for the request, it came out more as a drabble. Hope you enjoy!

Xavier

What a bitter, gutting thing it was—to stand in the shadows and watch him shine for someone else. To see the light in his eyes, the easy laughter, the quiet devotion as he did for her what he had never done for you.

The one thing you once begged for. The one thing he had denied you.

But not her. Never her.

She was fate’s beloved, the one woven from the same celestial thread as him, bound to him in ways you never could be. You had always told yourself to be rational, to be understanding. Xavier came with a past. He came with baggage.

And inside that baggage, nestled close to his heart, was her.

The woman you would envy until the world turned to dust.

And yet—how could you ever bring yourself to hate her? When she was made of kindness, of soft edges and warm light? When she looked at you with nothing but affection, oblivious to the ruin she left in her wake? She was an angel. A blessing. A curse.

And fate, it seemed, had always been on her side.

So there they were, walking side by side, woven together so seamlessly it was almost poetic. Almost cruel. Her bags in his hands, the weight of them carried so effortlessly—as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

And yet, when you had asked for the same—just a simple day together, just a moment of his time—he had sighed, shaken his head, told you he was too tired. That work was too much. That he simply couldn’t.

But now, watching him with her, you couldn’t help but wonder—did she take his exhaustion away? Did her presence breathe new life into him in a way you never could?

The answer settled deep in your bones, cold and unrelenting.

Your friend beside you said nothing, only looking at you with that quiet, suffocating pity that made your stomach turn. Because there was nothing to say. Nothing to soften the truth you had known all along.

You were not his first thought in the morning. You were not the name on his lips when he passed a garden of wildflowers. You were not the presence lingering in his mind when the world grew quiet.

And you never would be.

You had spent so long fighting against it. Xavier loves me. He chose me. The words had been your lifeline, a fragile, trembling thing you whispered into the silence. But even your friends never seemed convinced.

And now, neither were you.

So you did the only thing you knew how to do.

You turned away.

No confrontation. No desperate pleas for an explanation that would only come laced with half-truths and empty reassurances. What good was honesty when it had never been yours to begin with?

When he came home that night, his lips still curved with the ghost of a smile, he found an emptiness he had never felt before. Your things, your presence—gone, as if you had never been there at all.

And in your place, only a single note remained.

"I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for. Because clearly, it was never me."

And Xavier, poor Xavier, would stand there, reading those words over and over, grasping at the fraying edges of something he had never truly held onto.

But then again—

Xavier had never noticed his wrongdoings.

Not until there was nothing left but the weight of his own ruin.

Zayne

Zayne—or Dr. Zayne, as she called him—had always been a good man. A gentleman in every sense. Caring, affectionate, endlessly considerate.

But never for you.

His tenderness felt practiced, his affections routine. As if he wasn’t loving you, but fulfilling some unspoken obligation. A kindness given not out of devotion, but out of mere habit.

And you had tried to ignore it. Swallowed your doubts, convinced yourself you were overthinking.

Until you saw them together.

Her.

The one fate had tied him to. The one who never had to ask for his attention, because it had always belonged to her.

Her laughter lit up rooms before she even stepped inside. Her eyes gleamed like sunlight catching on water—brilliant, hypnotic, impossible to look away from. And neither could he.

And then, there was the picture.

A simple post, one she likely uploaded without a second thought, oblivious to the quiet devastation it would bring.

There she was, sitting in his office. Smiling. At ease.

Sharing lunch with him.

Something you had never been allowed to do.

You had asked once—just to drop by, to see him, to spend even a sliver of time together in the place he spent most of his days. But he had refused, brushing you off with a gentle but firm, “I don’t want distractions.”

And yet, there she was, sitting across from him, urging him to eat the food she had made, as if she had every right to be there. And maybe she did.

They had known each other forever. That was what you told yourself—Of course, they’re close. Of course, they understand each other in ways I never will. You had tried to accept it. To be understanding.

But then you saw the way he looked at her in the picture.

The softness in his eyes. The quiet, unguarded devotion.

Like she was the only one who could unravel him, the only one who could slip past his carefully built walls.

You had spent so long trying to do the same, but you never even made a crack.

And so, that was the moment you made a promise to yourself.

You would not be someone’s second choice. You would not collect the scraps of his affection while she—effortless, radiant, destined—was given everything you had ever wanted.

And Zayne noticed.

He noticed in the silence. In the missed calls that went unanswered, the messages left on read. In the bouquets left wilting at your doorstep, the petals curling at the edges.

Roses.

Her favorite flowers.

Not yours.

And that was all the confirmation you needed.

Zayne was never the gentleman you thought he was.

Or perhaps, he was. Just never for you.

Or maybe—maybe it was fate itself that was cruel.

Rafayel

Something inside you cracked, splintering like fragile seashells beneath careless hands—shattered beyond repair, beyond mending.

It wasn’t a sudden break. No, it had been slow, creeping in like the tide, eroding the edges of your love bit by bit, pulling pieces of you away before you could even notice you were unraveling.

And now, the final wave had come, and it had taken everything with it.

Because there he was—your Rafayel—kneeling beside her, smiling in a way you had longed to be the cause of.

The sight alone stole the breath from your lungs.

You had spent so long pretending not to notice. Ignoring the way his gaze always sought her out, the way his voice softened just a fraction when he spoke to her. You had swallowed the ache, told yourself it didn’t matter.

"That’s just the way he is," you had whispered, time and time again.

But it had never been the way he was.

It had only ever been the way he was with you.

And now, you knew why.

Rafayel hated cats.

You remembered the way his nose had scrunched when you had once tried to feed a stray by the docks, the way he had flicked his fingers as if to ward the creature away. “Little beasts,” he had muttered, half-amused, half-disgusted. “I don’t understand how you humans tolerate them.”

You had laughed then, nudging him playfully. “You’re just jealous they’re cuter than you.”

And yet—here he was.

Crouched beside her, cradling a trembling kitten in careful, delicate hands, his expression softer than you had ever seen it. His touch—usually teasing, fleeting, always just out of reach—was steady, warm, tender.

For her.

Not for you.

Something cold curled around your ribs, sinking deep, making it harder to breathe.

It was never about the kitten.

It was never about the things he couldn’t do.

It was about the things he never wanted to do for you.

And watching him now, so unguarded, so effortlessly kind, made you wish you had never met him at all.

Rage and sorrow burned through your veins, curling beneath your skin like a sickness. You wanted to rip that stupidly charming smile from his face, wanted to demand why he had never looked at you like that.

But there was no point.

So you turned and walked away.

Ignoring reality, just as you had once tried to ignore fate.

But fate never ignored you.

And something in the air told you—Rafayel wouldn’t either.

Sylus

Sylus had never been an easy man to love.

Sharp edges, cold precision—every move calculated, every word spoken with intent. He was not a man swayed by sentiment, nor was he one to entertain trivial affections.

You had known this from the start.

And yet, knowing had never stopped you from wanting.

So you learned to take what little he gave you—stolen moments in the dead of night, whispered conversations where he let the ice thaw just enough for you to believe there was something beneath it. But always, always, he kept his distance, his affections measured, restrained.

"This is who I am," he had told you once, when you asked why he never let himself soften. "I don’t have the luxury of being gentle."

You had believed him.

Until now.

Until you saw him, standing there in the dim glow of a high-rise restaurant, his head tilted ever so slightly toward her. The woman fate had written into his story, the one whose presence seemed to unravel him in ways you never could.

His fated one.

And in front of them, two untouched glasses of wine.

Wine.

The very thing he had refused to share with you.

"I don’t drink with others," he had said once, his voice clipped, final. "It's a pleasure reserved for my time alone."

But now, here he was. Sharing a glass with her. His fingers resting idly against the stem of his glass, his expression unreadable yet undeniably present. He was here. Fully. With her.

A man who never entertained distractions, utterly enthralled.

The way he looked at her—it was something different. Something you had never been granted. There was no calculation in his gaze, no careful restraint. No cold, distant amusement.

Just quiet acceptance. As if she had been meant to sit beside him all along.

And that was when you knew.

You could tear yourself apart, try to become everything he had ever wanted, and it still wouldn’t matter. Because fate had already made the choice for him.

And it wasn’t you.

Still, you lingered a moment longer, letting the pain settle, letting it carve its lesson deep into your ribs.

And then, without a word, you turned and left.

Because you, too, could learn to be cold.

Caleb

Caleb had always been warm. That was the problem.

He had a way of making you believe you belonged there—tucked into his arms, held close by quiet promises and easy smiles. He made you think you mattered.

But there was always her.

His childhood best friend.

Not bound by fate, not chosen by some cosmic force—just there. Always. In every story he told, in every old memory that made his eyes soften with something you could never quite reach. The one who had been with him before you, the one who had held his hand through storms you’d never even known existed.

And you told yourself it wasn’t a competition.

Until the night you saw them.

The neon lights of the karaoke bar cast the whole street in a soft glow, music and laughter spilling from inside as you walked past—until something, someone, made your steps falter.

Through the open doors, past the booths and glowing screens, you saw him.

Caleb.

Standing there, microphone in hand, singing.

With her.

The sight knocked the breath from your lungs.

"I don’t like singing in front of people," he had told you once, shaking his head with a sheepish smile when you begged him to join you for just one song. "It’s embarrassing. I just—I can’t, okay?"

But now, here he was.

Swaying slightly, smiling as their voices blended together in a song you didn’t recognize. It wasn’t perfect—his voice cracked in places, he missed a beat or two—but that didn’t matter. Because he was trying. Because he was enjoying it.

Because she made him feel safe enough to do what he had never done for you.

Your stomach twisted.

It had never been about singing.

It had been about you.

You should have walked away then. Should have swallowed the lump in your throat and turned back, should have spared yourself the cruel spectacle of watching them.

But you didn’t.

You stayed long enough to see the way he laughed when she nudged him playfully. The way he looked at her, unguarded, free. The way she reached for his hand without hesitation—because she knew it would always be there, waiting for her.

And for the first time, you realized—maybe you had never been holding his hand at all. Maybe you had only been grasping at the space he left behind.

Something cold settled in your chest.

You didn’t wait for him to notice you.

You just turned, and left, without a sound.

And Caleb, too caught up in a song meant for someone else, never even saw you go.