#also i apologize if the formatting is being weird on mobile

[chaotic-birds]

fluffy Jason thought

if you like run your fingers through his hair, especially when he’s sleepy, he’ll kiss your palms and wrists. Especially after an argument, it’s like his silent little apology before the actual words (kinda like he’s hyping himself up in a way)

I love soft!Jason so much :,)

soft!Jason owns my heart. thank you for sending this in!!! my writing is a little rusty, but I had fun writing this so i hope you enjoy!

this is also uploaded on mobile so sorry if the formatting is weird. if it is, i’ll fix it later 😖

TW none | WC ~500 | G angst, fluff, h/c

masterlist

It didn’t take long for you to realize Jason Todd is not used to being loved.

He’s not used to the gentle touches or the soft voices.

But he tries to be.

He tries for you.

Jason’s head lays on your lap, eyes closed as he focuses on the feeling of your fingers threading through his dark hair. The slow motions bring comfort to his fast-paced life. It steadies his breathing and allows his body to sink deeper into the couch cushions.

Although Jason is becoming sleepier, he can’t bring himself to rest. Not when he snapped at you last night. Not when he knows the origin of his frustrations came from his self-hatred that he made you so scared for his well-being.

Jason reaches up to grab the hand that’s been playing with his hair and guides it to his mouth. He places tender kisses on each knuckle. Each time his mouth touches your skin, he can hear the echo of his words he had said to you.

Words that he regrets saying.

“I don’t need you worrying about me all the damn time.”

“I’m not a fucking child, and you’re not my fucking mother.”

“Leave me alone.”

“I can take care of myself. Been doing it for years, darlin’.”

“How about you worry about someone else?”

Jason kisses the inside of your wrist and lets his lips linger on your warm skin.

Skin that he loves to feel against his. Skin from the person he loves so much that it scares him.

Scares him because what happens if your skin becomes cold forever. What if…

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your wrist. “I’m so sorry.”

Your hand cups his face, angling it so his blue eyes connect with yours.

“I know, Jayce. I forgive you.”

Jason’s lips twitch in a failed attempt to smile.

He should have never gotten mad about you caring for him.

If you were the one stumbling home after a bad fight, bruised and bleeding, he’d be fretting over you too. Hell, he’d probably react in more extreme ways.

“I’ll try not to worry so much,” you say.

Jason shakes his head. “I don’t want you to, but I understand why you do. I… I worry about you too.”

You smile, nodding. “I’m glad you do.”

Tilting his head, he questions, “You are?”

“Yup,” you reply. “It means you care.”

Jason’s eyes flicker from yours.

He knows he cares about you. He’d give his life for you. He’d take all the pain in the world if it meant you were unharmed.

But if he’s willing to do that because he cares about you, does that mean you’d do the same because you care about him?

Jason leans his head into your palm that’s still against his cheek as he lulls over the thought.

He’s not used to feeling loved. He’s not used to your soft touches and soothing voice.

But he’s trying.

Because deep down in his heart, he wants to be.

He wants to be loved.

He wants to be loved by you.

©️chaotic-birds // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[harley-sunday]

Champagne Supernova

Summary: You literally stumble into Charles Leclerc one evening and somehow end up with custody over his tuxedo jacket? Weird. Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader [f] Warnings: None Word count: 2.7k AN: Sometimes an idea just *mimics explosion with hand* pops up all of a sudden and won't go away until you write it down (I mean, I was literally in bed already but…). So here we are  Also, written on mobile (eL, don't @ me) so apologies in advance for shitty formatting and for not editing. Also², I live for validation so comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! That is, if you like it, of course :)

It’s warm inside the ballroom of the hotel you’re in and so you’re trying to fan yourself with a copy of tonight’s program because now that the formal part of the evening is over it really doesn’t serve any use anymore other than to help you cool down. You’re standing in the corner of the room, close to the bar, observing the crowd - Monaco’s elite; a strange mix of old money and self made millionaires that have come together for tonight’s fundraiser.

You don’t belong to either of those groups but instead are here because the PR agency you work for somehow got selected to promote the event. It meant a lot of overtime in the past two months for the entire team and so your bosses - Olivier and Claire, a happily married couple with two kids, a dog, and a perfect work-life balance (of course) - promised you and your colleagues a seat at one of the tables and thus an open bar for the evening very early on in the process to make up for all the early mornings and late nights. 

Dinner was a drawn out affair with seven small courses, entirely too much red wine, and a slightly boring silent auction reveal that took way too long for your liking. The promise of an after-party kept you from leaving early but it’s Monaco, it’s rich people, and so you could and should have known that their idea of an after-party is more champagne, bragging about who paid what despite it being a silent auction, and a guy with a comb-over and an ill-fitting tuxedo playing the piano, dragging out “Les Lacs du Connemara” way beyond the six minutes the song usually takes.

Next to you, Olivier and Claire are having a small domestic because Claire, slightly intoxicated, wants to stay but Olivier, scarily sober, has promised the babysitter they’d be back before one. Your other two colleagues are trying to persuade (read: threaten) the piano guy into playing “Sweet Caroline”, and you are feeling more miserable by the minute - one of your shoulder straps keeps sliding down, there’s a headache coming on, and your feet hurt like crazy in the stilettos you had no time to break in, so to say you are over it and ready to go home would be an understatement.

You wait for a lul in Olivier and Claire’s argument before you turn to them and tell them, “I’m heading out, ok? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Olivier nods but Claire starts to protest and grabs your wrist, “Babe. Stay.”

You shake your head and try to free your hand but Claire doesn’t let go. Looking at Olivier for help you tug again but her fingers remain deadlocked around your wrist and you know it’s because she’s drunk and wants someone in her corner when Olivier decides to stand his ground and make her go home in about five minutes or so, but it is annoying as fuck and so you pull a little harder and start to walk away. “Claire,” you warn her, “let go.”

She still doesn’t.

Until all of a sudden she does and it makes you stumble forward and bump into someone and then everything seems to happen at once - you flail your arms trying not to topple over, reaching out for something- Anything you can hold onto. It’s the arm of the guy you bumped into but as you steady yourself against him he loses control of the drink he’s holding, a quiet, “Oh, merde,” your only warning before-

“Holy shit, that’s cold!” You jump backwards in shock, fingers plucking at the fabric of your dress as you try to stop the liquid from dripping down in between your boobs while quietly cursing your best friend who made you wear this stupid dress with its stupid plunging neckline in the first place. The fabric is already clinging to your skin, your chest and stomach absolutely soaked and you look around for an easy exit, first to the toilets maybe, to save yourself from the horrified looks around you and any further embarrassment but then you see a stack of white napkins appear in your field of vision and before you know it you are being pat down by the man who’s drink you’re now wearing.

“I am so sorry,” he mumbles while trying to dry your dress but the napkins are white and your dress is black and so all it does is leave a trace of little pieces of fluff all over your stomach but before you have a chance to say anything he’s grabbed a new stack of napkins and goes for your chest-

“Stop! Stop, stop, stop.” You shake your head and take the napkins from him, gently pushing his hands back with a smile, “I got this.”

“Shit, sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair and is blushing like crazy, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” you tell him as you’re blotting yourself now. “I mean, I’m the one who bumped into you, right?” The napkins really aren’t helping and so you give up with a frustrated sigh, looking up for the first time then, letting out a quiet, “Oh,” when you see the man standing in front of you. Jesus Christ, he’s hot. And apparently still upset because he stares at you with his beautiful green eyes as if he wants the ground to swallow him whole. Even though you’re the one who could enter, and maybe even win, a wet t-shirt contest this very second which you think is ten times more embarrassing. 

“Let me at least do something to help,” he tries, reaching out his hands to you again but then thinking better of it. “Really. Anything. I mean, I will pay for the dress of course, but-”

He seems so flustered that you can’t help yourself, “Well, considering you almost went to second base just now-” you say with a wide smile and a pointed look between his hands and your chest, “-it would be nice to at least know your name.”

This makes him chuckle and earns you a smile in return, “I’m Charles.”

“Nice to meet you, Charles,” you say, meaning every word of it, and then introduce yourself. When you lick your lips you taste the champagne he spilled on you and can’t help but laugh, “What a waste of that Veuve Clicquot, though, huh?”

“I’m more worried about your dress, to be honest,” he counters with a grin.

“What? This old thing?” You motion for him to come forward and when he does you put your mouth close to his ear and whisper, “Between you and me, I think the champagne was more expensive.”

He chuckles again when you pull back and you can’t help but fall for him a little, the way he scrunches his nose something so- Adorable? Hot? You’re not sure. Either way, you want to see more of it, you decide. Charles still looks as if he’s ready to go into purgatory and so somehow you’re not really surprised when he tries again, “I mean it though. Anything I can do to make up for this.”

You look around then and even though most of the crowd has gone back to their smalltalk there are still some curious onlookers that seem way too invested in this, making you feel very exposed all of a sudden, and so, well, if he insists… “Maybe you could lend me your jacket for a hot sec and escort me out of here?”

“Of course,” he replies, already taking his tuxedo jacket off. He hesitates for a second but then drapes it over your shoulders anyway, “There.”

Instead of a ‘thank you’, a distracted, “Uhu,” comes out because it’s only now, when you see the way the white dress shirt is stretched across his arms and chest, that you see how muscular he is. He’s- Not broad but definitely athletic and you wonder what kind of sport he’s into. Before you have a chance to ask though he’s absentmindedly rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and you can feel your mouth go a little dry at the sight of his tanned, veiny forearms and hands. A fleeting thought of just how much you could make him apologize with those long fingers gets quickly pushed back when he holds out his arm for you to loop yours through.

“Come on,” he says and nods towards the exit. “Let’s get out of here.” He guides you through the room with ease and doesn’t stop when you reach the foyer, instead making you follow him outside where he nods at the valet.

“I didn’t drive here,” you start, because somehow you figured it’s your car he wants them to get.

“I know. Well-” he chuckles then, “-I don’t actually, but I’m making him get my car so I can drive you home. Or your hotel. I mean, I don’t want to assume-”

“Home,” you quickly reassure him. This time you remember your words and your manners, “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do.” He leads you down the front steps when the valet pulls up with his car, a black Ferrari Pista Spider that you can’t help but silently admire, and doesn’t let go of you until you’ve reached the car and he’s opened the door for you.

You try to keep the wet part of your dress from touching anything inside the car as best as you can, offering a quiet, “Sorry,” when Charles slides into his seat.

He tuts, “Don’t worry about the car, ma chérie." 

And, oh- That’s- Nice. And a complete one eighty from how flustered he was mere minutes ago. Huh. Interesting.

If he does notice you clearing your throat to distract yourself, he’s kind enough not to mention it. Instead he starts the car, the engine absolutely purring to life, and turns to you with a grin, "Where am I taking you?”

Right here and right now please, you almost say, but you don’t think that’s what he meant and so instead you tell him, “Take a left at the stoplights and then a right at the next.”

As you guide him through the streets of Monaco you find out he’s an F1 driver with Ferrari who was actually born and raised in Monaco. He tells you how he’s on a three-week summer break until the end of August when the second half of the season starts with a race in Belgium. In return you tell him how you moved here three years ago when, after college, you got offered a job by Claire and Olivier.

All too soon, because sometimes Monaco really is nothing more than just a small town on the French Riviera, he pulls up in front of your house with an almost apologetic smile, “Here we are.”

“Here we are,” you echo with a nod. It’s silent for a moment before you decide to just put yourself out there, something about doing it now or forever wishing you had, “Would you like to come in? I could get changed and give you your jacket back? You might want to wash it though, I think there’s some wine- It probably needs to go to the dry cleaner’s, right? I don’t think it can go in the washing machine-” You hear yourself starting to ramble and so you close your eyes for a second and try again, “What I meant was: Would you like to come in for a drink?”

“I would love to but- I can’t,” he says and there’s something about him that makes you believe he’s telling the truth and that he’s sorry about it. “I have some auctioned pieces I still need to sign and I have to take a photo with the highest bidder in-” he looks at his watch and lets out a humorless laugh, “-ten minutes.”

“That sucks,” you tell him because apparently you’re now just speaking your mind without being eloquent about it.

He nods slowly, “It kind of does.”

Oh. Ok.

“Take the jacket,” he says then, “I can come pick it up later.”

Wait. What?

“Later tonight, or?”

He shakes his head, “No. Later as in, next week or something.”

“Oh, ok, yeah, that’s- Yeah, makes sense.” No need to stumble over your words, you think, you took your chances and it didn’t work out. It’s fine. It’s just that the 'or something’ kind of hurts.

He must see the disappointment on your face because he quickly adds, “I mean, so I can see you again. Later. When I’m not in a rush and you’re not covered in champagne.”

You can’t help but laugh, your mind once again too quick for your own good, “Who says I won’t be?” You let the words hang in the air with a raised eyebrow and it takes a few heartbeats but then Charles laughs as well, a burst of laughter that you want to hear again and again. You grin at him, “What?”

“You are something else,” he says, shaking his head. He reaches for his phone then, unlocks it, and hands it to you, “If you add your number I could maybe call or text you?” There’s a shy smile playing on his lips then, “About the jacket, I mean.”

“Are you sure you don’t want it back now?”

“No, that’s ok. My brothers are at the party as well. I can just take one of theirs.”

“Sure?” You try one last time.

“Sure.”

“Ok.” Your fingers fly over his screen then, adding yourself to his contacts before you hand him the phone back. Locked. A wicked grin on your lips, “Let’s see if you remember my name- Later.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Good.” You lean over the center console then and press a kiss to his cheek, “I’ll be seeing you then.”

“You will,” he says with a bad attempt at a wink, which so far seems his only flaw.

“Thank you for driving me home,” you say as you climb out of the car while trying not to flash anyone even though there’s no one around. A kind smile then as you close the door, “Drive safe.”

“Always.” He gives you a quick wave and then he’s off, the rumble of the engine echoing through the almost empty streets of the city.

***

He doesn’t call. Or text. And so his jacket moves from your living room, where it was draped over a chair for the first three weeks, to the guest bedroom slash your home office, this time draped over your office chair. Every now and then you catch a hint of his cologne  and so you still aren’t able to really forget about him.

At the beginning of November you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’ll probably won’t see him again, that you probably made a bigger deal out of it than it was, that he probably doesn’t even remember you - your name just another girl added to his contacts because he was simply trying to be nice - and so at some point you move the jacket to inside the closet in the guest bedroom, telling yourself that the only reason you won’t throw it away is because it’s Armani and expensive as fuck. 

You’d like to say you’ve forgotten about both the jacket and Charles once December rolls around but that would be a lie. You’ve actually started to follow the remainder of the F1 season and saw him come second in the World Driver Championship. A warm feeling settling somewhere inside your chest whenever you see him getting doused in champagne by his teammates or rivals, taking you back to the night you met. 

He’s been on your mind more than ever and when your phone rings one night, an unknown, private number calling you, you somehow know it’s him and so you answer with a cheeky, “The jacket you are trying to reach is no longer available. Please try again later.”

He lets out a laugh, that same laugh you drew from him in his car all those months ago, and it’s like no time has passed at all. “Salut, ma chérie, I’m sorry for not calling any sooner but-”

“Don’t try to sweet talk your way back into our lives, Leclerc,” you say as you take another bite of the apple you were eating.

“Our?”

“The jacket’s and mine,” you reply. “We are doing quite well for ourselves.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “Is that so?”

You nod even though he can’t see you, “Yeah.”

“I’d like to come see that for myself.”

“Hmmm,” you draw out. “We might be able to arrange a supervised visit. When would you-”

Your doorbell rings then and you hear it both in your house and echo through your phone and- Oh. Shit.

Charles chuckles in your ear, “Now?”

===

AN: I am so sorry for this very unsatisfying open ending. It was the best I could do for now... *sends hugs to those affected*

[rorywritesjunk]

Let's be one another's present tense

Buggy ‘rescues’ you from an abusive situation, and after a less than stellar introduction, he has you audition for his crew to keep you safe. You want safety, security, and joining a circus seems like the best idea.

Rating: R-ish for now. 

Warning: Swearing, soft Buggy, sort of terrible communication but in a soft way, both of them are just a bit dumb. Kissing. Bath time for Buggy as well. Also insecure Buggy.

A/N: This story is opposite of my Kid Buggy series and I love that for myself. I'm also posting this chapter on mobile, so apologies if the formatting is weird but I wanted to get this chapter out and I'm impatient.

Title comes from “Crater Lake” by Lady Lamb. 

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 (NC-17) + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 (NC-17) + Chapter 16 (NC-17) + Chapter 17

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @neuvilleteismybby @fluffybunnyu @sinning-23 @the-angriest-angel @ane5e @fanshavegottensotoxic @honey-deerling

Chapter 7

Honestly, confessing your feelings didn't make too much of a difference from what you two were previously doing, but now Buggy didn't wait until you were asleep to pull you into his arms, he did it when you were still awake, pressing soft kisses to your face and neck with promises of how he would keep you safe now, that he would take care of you. And you still prepared him a plate at breakfast, still made sure he ate, but now you made sure he had second helpings of his favorite food to get him through the day.

You still called him an asshole and he still called you a diva from time to time, but there was less bite to it than before.

Though sometimes you two still had arguments, mostly about your routine, which you were getting closer and closer to giving up on. Just a month after you two confessed to each other your feelings, it finally came to a head.

“You were under water for way too long!” Buggy snapped when you two were back in your room after a frustrating day. Both of you woke up late, breakfast tasted horrible, and several freaks kept messing up on their routines. Buggy was in a foul mood and you were just grumpy. You ignored him as you stripped off your wet clothes and started drying off with a towel. At this point being naked around each other wasn't a big deal.

“Four minutes!” You shot back. “I was only in there for four minutes, okay? And I'm fine!”

“No, four minutes is not okay!” He shouted. “That's too long!”

“Buggy, it's not a big deal!” You insisted as you pulled on one of his shirts to wear. You liked how they fit you and it was often your preferred item to wear for sleeping. Next was a clean pair of underwear. “I know what I'm capable of, okay? I wish you could understand that!”

“I know you're capable, I just don't like it!” Buggy snapped. “What if something happens when my back is turned, or your helper can't reach you?! I can't help you, remember?”

You crossed your arms and stared at him, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. If this was something he worried about…

“Well, why don't I just stop doing it then?” You suggested with a shrug, but when you saw the way Buggy's face fell you immediately regretted suggesting it.

“And then what?” He asked quietly. “Are you going to leave?”

That wasn't the question you expected. “What? No! Why would I leave?!”

“If you're not going to do it…”

“Then Cabaji can use me as target practice.” You sighed as you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around him. “Look, clearly this isn't working.” You silenced him with your finger to his lips before he could fuss. “The routine, Buggy. You're stressing over it and I don't want you to stress, so what if I just… take a break from it for a while and work with Cabaji? You trust him, right?”

Buggy let the suggestion soak in. Okay, you weren't going to leave, you had a suggestion, and you still got to perform, which he was happy with. And yea, he trusted Cabaji. You would be safe working with him. No risk of drowning, just maybe a stab wound if he miscalculated a throw, but Buggy could deal with that. Maybe.

“I'll tell him about it.” Buggy mumbled as he leaned into your touch. “Just… don't leave.”

“Why do you think I'm going to leave?” You asked. “I just don't want you to stress. You've been stressing about this since I started it.”

Buggy just shrugged as he pulled back from you. “I need a bath.”

“Yea, you do, stinky man.” You sighed. Bathing habits of pirates was something you were still getting used to, and Buggy seemed to prefer going days without bathing before finally giving in, and right then you were grateful. You tried to get one at least every other day, but sometimes it didn't work that way. You had thought about taking one tonight but your little argument with your boyfriend distracted you.

Buggy sat down to unbuckle his boots but you stopped him. You could see how stressed he was, that he was feeling the frustrations from the day weighing down on him, so you knelt down and did it for him, setting them aside before pulling off his socks. Yea, you were washing his clothes tomorrow, you wouldn't take no for an answer on that.

“You don't have-”

“Shut up and relax.” You told him firmly. “Today was shitty and you're about to snap, so let me help, Buggy.”

He nodded and let you be in control. You stood back up and pressed a kiss to his forehead, resisting the urge to tell him who was in charge since he often liked to say that to you, whether being serious or playful, but you didn't want to rile him up. You needed him to take it easy.

“I'm going to do laundry tomorrow, so anything you want washed, go ahead and put it in the basket, Buggy.” You told him as you leaned down to unbutton his shirt. He just nodded, shrugging it off before standing up to take his pants off next. You moved over to the tub, starting the water to get it filled up. His hair needed to get washed and brushed out, and you wanted his face clean, so you grabbed the shampoo, brush, and the makeup remover and cleanser before returning to the tub.

“I can do this myself, y’know.” He mumbled as he tossed the dirty clothes into the basket. You shrugged and stuck your hand in the water to check the temperature.

“Do you want to?” You asked. “I can go do something else.”

“No, no.” He replied a little too quickly as he walked over to the tub and climbed in, lowering himself down into the water. “Just don't want you to think you have to.”

“Well, I want to.” You told him as you grabbed a towel to kneel on as you got yourself comfy behind the tub. “Now can I wash your hair? It got in my mouth last night and… it wasn't good.”

He smirked a bit and glanced back at you. “I can always put something else in your mouth, y'know.”

You tugged on a lock of hair when he said that before reaching in to push his shoulders down to get as much of his hair wet as possible. The bath water wasn't sea water thankfully, unlike some of it that came into the tank you would be submerged in. You knew that's why he felt helpless when you were in there, he couldn't help you if something went wrong.

“Maybe once you're clean.” You shot back playfully as you made sure his hair was wet. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing. You poured some of the strawberry scented shampoo into your hand before you began to massage it into his locks, dragging your nails over his scalp gently, eliciting a moan from him. You couldn't help but giggle at the reaction, ensuring his hair was well lathered before dunking him back into the water. “Mm, you like me touching you like that, Buggy?”

“Fuck, don't ask me that.” He hissed as you wrung his hair out before letting it hang outside the tub while you grabbed a towel to dry it.

“Why?” You chuckled as you made sure to get his hair dried before wrapping it up in the towel. “You don't want me touching you?”

“I do.” He grumbled as he sat up a bit in the tub. “I'll… do the rest. I don't need you to help.”

“But I want to.” You reminded him with a frown. “Please?”

He glanced back at you, cheeks pink with embarrassment, but he finally nodded. You leaned forward and kissed his cheek before grabbing a washcloth to clean his face with.

“Can I wash your face?” You asked. “And… can I touch your nose?”

“Why?” He demanded, narrowing his eyes. You held the washcloth up as well as the remover.

“I just want to clean your face.”

“It's real, you know that.”

“Buggy, I'm just asking to wash your face.” You told him gently. “And I'll try not to touch your nose, but I may need to. That's all.”

He wasn't sure about that. For one thing, you asked to touch his nose. He was used to others just touching it in the past, not believing it to be real, wondering if it came off or even honked. Those incidents were humiliating and uncomfortable for him, and what if this was all a ruse, you wanting to see if it did anything other than sit on his face? He couldn't cope. He didn't want you to.

“I'll wash my face.” He mumbled as he looked away from you. With a shrug, you handed him the cleanser and washcloth. You got up to get him a clean pair of pants to wear to sleep in. He glanced over as you moved, wondering if you were upset now. “Maybe… next time.”

“Okay.” You found a pair and tossed it on the bed before tossing his socks and shirt into the laundry basket. “Buggy, communication is a big thing, y’know, and while I'm no expert with relationships, we do gotta communicate.”

“We do!” He insisted. “You asked me something and I said no, so we communicated!”

“I'm not saying we don't, Buggy.”

“Then what are you saying?”

You resisted grabbing one of his socks and throwing it at him. “Buggy, don't bite my head off. I'm just trying to talk to you. Why are you so defensive?”

“Why did you want to touch my nose?” He shot back. You stared at him before throwing your arms up in exasperation.

“Communicating! I asked because I know it's something you're sensitive about!” You exclaimed. “Geez, would you have rather I just touched it?!”

“No! Just…” he huffed and looked down at the washcloth and cleanser before looking back at you. “I don't want you to feel disgusted or anything, okay?”

“I'm not going to.” You assured him as you went back over to the tub. “I'm trying to do the right thing and ask first, okay, just like you ask me before doing things for me.”

Buggy sighed and handed the cleanser and washcloth back to you, which you took back before kissing his cheek. You were gentle, wetting his face before using the cleanser, massaging it into his skin before using the washcloth to clean his face. You were mindful of his nose, though your fingertips brushed against it just for a moment, making him flinch but he didn't pull away from you. Once you were done and his face was clean, you turned his head so you could kiss him on the lips.

“All done.” You murmured as you started to pull away, but before you realized what was happening, both of Buggy's arms detached and were hauling you into the tub. You couldn't help but shriek as you were suddenly dunked in the bath water. “Buggy!”

“You need a bath too, Cupcake.” He said with a smirk as he pulled the soaking shirt off of you. “Might as well conserve water.”

“You asshole.” You said, your tone playful as you shimmied out of your underwear, tossing it aside with the wet shirt. “Those were my only clean pair.”

“Eh, laundry tomorrow.” Buggy shrugged as his arms wrapped around you and pulled you against his chest. “It's fine.”

Guess you were sleeping naked tonight.

[a-dragons-journal]

I really hate writing posts like this on mobile, but I’m not going to get the chance to write it on desktop for almost a week, so I’m writing this in Google Docs and copying it over and I apologize for any missed formatting errors.

I’m having a real weird time with Frontiers - not bad, necessarily, but weird - and I want to document it to some extent, so here we are. Pretty major game spoilers ahead. Also a quick warning that I am going to get a little mean about trophy hunting; I am aware that on Earth this is a somewhat more nuanced issue (and I really don’t want to get into it tbh), but I am letting myself get emotional here because that’s frankly just not true on Pandora because the situation is different.

This game is giving me a really weird experience, because it’s like… the story is meh until it is not. I’m mostly having a normal time, until I very abruptly am not.

The first round was during the Zeswa clan storyline, when you get into the Lodge. For those who haven’t played or haven’t gotten this far yet, while exploring the Upper Plains and talking with the Zeswa, you learn that the RDA has been poaching animals, hunting and trapping them en masse to ship them or their body parts back to Earth to sell for big bucks, because the people back on Earth will pay massive amounts of money to be able to show off anything Pandoran - often taking whole carcasses, but sometimes just stripping the pieces they can sell and leave the rest to rot. There’s a log from an interrogation wherein they captured a Zeswa and tortured them to try and get them to reveal the location of the graveyard of the zakru, the enormous animals the Zeswa live in symbiosis with, so they can steal the bones and tusks. And when you get into the Lodge, the center of Harding’s poaching operation, there are stuffed animals and animal parts on display as trophies.

I cannot express properly the rage that filled my chest and my throat when I saw that. The outlying camps, with their slaughtered fa’li and aywinzaw in piles, were bad enough. But the Lodge itself, the heads and bodies and bones put on display, animals that were not killed for food or population culls but simply because they could - my throat fills with fire even thinking back on it now. This is not Eywa’s way. This is deeply, deeply wrong.

All right. That’s fine. That’s fine. I can be normal about this. This is a deeper anger than I have gotten out of most media, but it’s fine.

And then there was the second round, during the Kame’tire clan storyline. And let me just say, hoo boy the story very suddenly picks up during the Kame’tire section. There is a segment where you find the place where you and other Sarentu children were held and processed before you were taken to the school the game initially picks up in, where you see what was left behind - cages and shackles the Sarentu were held in, Sarentu toys and clothes and ornaments that were stripped from the children, disinfectant and stark communal showers that were used to strip even their clan’s scent from them. The place is abandoned and empty and hollow, and I… I had to actually take a step back and take a break from it for a minute partway through because I was getting overwhelmed and starting to want to cry, even despite being on call with friends and having them chattering about something unrelated and cheerful in my ear. I felt trapped and frightened and horrified and haunted by memories. And I - look. I am a person that feels a lot with regards to fictional media. I have often said that my emotions are too big for my little body, and fiction is my safe place to feel at 100% capacity where it doesn’t actually have consequences. I am familiar with the emotional impacts fiction can have on me, and they can be big.

I had to actually stop and take a step back and walk away for a couple of minutes and get a snack and engage in an unrelated conversation for a bit to remind myself this was fiction and wasn’t actually happening. I have never had to do that.

And when I escaped that horrible, horrible place and escaped the yavä’ - I came across a Na’vi camp almost immediately and it was horribly jarring, seeing all these people just… living their lives. Talking amongst themselves. Sitting by the fire, sharing food and stories and music. I had to walk back out of the camp and call my ikran just to stroke her head and, in my head at least, hug her and comfort myself for a bit before I could go back in.

And then, after a bit to recover - normal game experience again. Normal level of investment. Normal level of emotional impact.

So… I still don’t think I am Sarentu (or Na’vi of any kind), although the specificity of what hit me that hard makes me pause to wonder for a moment, but hoo boy my alterhumanity related to this world is definitely impacting my emotional experience of this game periodically and it is a wild ride. I am not Na’vi, but being of Eywa, I can live in a Na’vi’s footprints completely enough, at least temporarily, to Know what it is to live this life and walk this path.

That’s the odd thing, about having a hearthome which is so integrally connected that the interconnection is part of the hearthome feelings - I am not Na’vi, but also I know what it is to be Na’vi. I am not ikran, but also I know what it is to be ikran. I am not - you get the idea. I am not, but also I kind of am.

It’s… interesting. And hoo boy it’s a lot in this case. I’ll be fine, but man.

[twopoppies]

Hey Gina! I don’t exactly know how to talk about this so i apologise if it’s worded weird, but I wanted to talk about polari! :) Also want to quickly preface by saying A.) I am a part of the LGBTQ+ community, B.) while I’m not English, I am Scottish (Glasgow) and we use some of the same slang as (specifically Northern) England & C.) I have a lot of hetero English friends who know absolutely nothing about polari.

(Quickly before I start as u/ppl may find this annoying; I’ve said Scottish separately as a lot of Scottish ppl, myself included, don’t like being referred to as English/British as majority of us are currently wanting & trying to gain independence from the U.K. lol & I included British instead of just Scotland/England as I’m not sure if it’s used anywhere else in great britian/the UK - please say if it is! :D )

I’m not sure if you’ve seen this too but I see quite a lot of people saying that Louis solely knowing/using polari speech is proof/semi-proof of him being queer or knowing queer history - I have to completely disagree with this.

Polari is used very commonly (some examples I can think of off the top of my head are bevvy, lallies and naff as I use them quite a lot.) in day-to-day conversation in scotland/england (as I mentioned, I have hetero english friends and they use polari ALL THE TIME, like they use only refer to a alcohol/drinks as bevvy, and have no absolutely no idea that it IS in fact polari..). People use it without even knowing what it is, especially those who are lower/working class and/or neds/chavs (which Louis seems to use as? Or want to be perceived as?) and are more likely to use slang. I guarantee you that if you were to go down to England (especially the north) and asked what bevvy meant, they’d almost 100% be able to tell you what means - but they won’t know the origins of the word, they’d just think it’s slang (they probably wouldn’t even know it’s used in Scotland too LOL).

I’ve seen absolutely no other scottish/english/british person talk about this so I feel like majority of the people speaking about polari are Americans (not all & not only, of course, but I feel like they majority of larries are American? Haha) who don’t actually use it or understand it’s use in modern day England/Scotland/U.K. and that’s why they’re saying that he must be queer to use it because they think that it’s not used anymore when it actually is! :)

I’m so sorry if this is a complete jumble of words, I’m absolutely horrible at writing my thoughts down hahah! I pray you understand what I’m trying to say. I hope this isn’t coming across as rude or mean. I’m not meaning it that way at all. Also, this isn’t meant to be a dig at Americans/non-scottish/english/great British folk either, it’s completely normal that you wouldn’t know this! :)

Sorry again hahaha I’ve been thinking about this for a really long time and have been dying to get this off my chest !! + I haven’t used tumblr in years so if the layout/format(??) is weird, apologies for that too, I’m also on mobile :( Thank u (if u do) for reading my long ass ramble lol :D I just wanted to shed some light on this.

Hi, honey. I think assuming Louis’ sexuality only based on him being aware of/using Polari is pretty silly. As you say, straight people in your part of the world use certain words regularly without being aware of it.

As always, I think one has to take many behaviors and actions into consideration when wondering if Louis (or anyone) is signaling. There’s a difference between using certain words that have become common, and knowing what Polari is. Him wearing that brand goes hand in hand with many instances of him wearing clothing that sent a message (for example, wearing the All Out, Queen’s Surf, and Rainbow Apple logo shirts). At that time, he seemed to be very calculated about what messages he sent through clothing. I think Polari was one of many instances of Louis signaling being a part of the community. But I’d never look at that as an isolated instance and think that.

[vintagealloy925]

nerd!reiner - gn reader

this is a lot of word vomit and im so sorry lol. this is probably crap but i cannot stop thinking about reiner being so smart and so sweet yet so, so dumb. i need this man to be real rn. also if this formatting is weird, pls let me know. im used to using mobile and would love advice on making this look good. thx! pt.2 is here!

been thinking about reiner as a nerd

nerd!reiner has never had a girlfriend. sure he’s had crushes and even tried asking a few out, but no one ever said yes. he was still lanky and awkward as a teenager and didn’t start to fill out until college. so he doesn’t really try anymore and just admires people from afar.

so when he sees you in his biology lab, he is immediately smitten. and of course you two are assigned as lab partners and dude is freaking out! the most attractive person he has ever seen is going to work alongside him every mwf for three hours. my guy almost drops his pencil and the forceps he’s using when you accidentally bump into him. the blush on his face when you ask for his number is so bright, but its just for exchanging notes, right?

one friday, after lab is over, you start asking him about his major (biomedical engineering), what he wants to do with it (create new tech for earlier cancer detection), and other general stuff. its the first time a person other than his best friend has wanted to know things about him. next thing he realizes, he’s standing outside your dorm with you batting your eyes asking him to come in. i mean, how could he say no?

and how could you resist him? he’s so tall, 6′3 with golden eyes hidden behind his rectangle glasses. you’re not sure if he realizes how many girls stare at him. oh how you longed to run your fingers through his blonde hair and dig your fingernails into his back. those t shirts he wears to lab do nothing to hide his long hours in the gym.

but he enters your room and doesn’t know what to do. you get up on your bed and ask if he wants to watch a movie, but he cant move. ‘what is happening’, he thinks. what if you try to kiss him? what if you want even more after that? he can’t give that to you, he doesn’t know how. 

so he just turns around and leaves.

bertholdt, annie, pieck, and porco are yelling at him that night to text you and apologize. they explain that his actions likely hurt your feelings and now he feels even worse than he did before. like after they leave his room, he starts to tear up and keeps telling himself that this is why people aren’t attracted to him.

so when he gets a text from you, he’s confused. why are you apologizing? you did nothing wrong. he swears. he can only imagine you crying because of his actions. he’s the asshole. he’s the problem. it is all his fault.

you were crying. you felt so bad for crossing any boundaries

he responds and tells you that you did nothing wrong, he should have said something before leaving, and that he was sorry.

monday’s lab was really awkward. his voice broke when he asked you to even the scale. your hands were shaking when you handed him his gloves. reiner stayed behind to clean up and the professor asked what happened between the two of you. they didn’t care of course, just like should you guys get new partners.

reiner almost screamed out a no. he didn’t want a new partner, he wanted things to go back to the way they were. he wanted you. he needed you.

so this is really long and if anyone wants anymore let me know cause i could go on forever lmao.

[pretty-chips]

Howdy. I’ve started writing a thing and I want to share the beginnings of it, because I absolutely am too excited to keep it to myself. Here’s a lil’ snippet of the beginning of Electric Love, my Rocket x Brita work. let me know if you enjoy! Thanks to @raccoonfallsharder and my angel babies in the discord server for unearthing my desire to write.

I’ve never uploaded writing to tumblr, especially on mobile, so apologies if the format is weird! The spacing between paragraphs was a lot and that bugged me lol.

“You’re freaking joking. You haven’t seen Footloose yet??” Peter’s voice is kind of shrill, and it makes Rocket’s ears pin back. “DUDE, I’ve talked about it like a million times! You guys kidnapped Kevin freakin’ Bacon for me!”

Two hours of Peter Quill being back on Knowhere, and he’d already brought up stupid flarking Kevin Bacon twice. Sheesh. Rocket shrugs defensively, lifting his hands and gesturing wildly as they walk. “Dude, I don’t know! The only place I ever get earth movies is here in Knowhere and I’m, like…busy, I dunno.”

Peter stops in his tracks, his face screwed up in confusion and surprise. “Wait, there’s a place with earth movies here?”

“Yeah.” Rocket’s arms fold as he regards Quill with a raised eyebrow. “You didn’t know?”

Peter looks absolutely appalled. Offended, even. “NO, I did not know. What the heck, man! I thought you guys were just…getting them somehow with the satellite or something.” Peter holds his hand up to his eyes and scans around, a bit dramatically, and Rocket roll his eyes. “Where the crap is this store? We’re going. Right now.”

With an amused huff, Rocket starts walking and gestures over his shoulder for Quill to follow. “C’mon Pete. Let’s get your stupid movie.”

He catches Peter smiling. Good. That means he heard the ‘I missed you’ buried in those words.

~

“I think I’m going to go insane.”

Brita’s elbows slide across the counter as she holds her chin in her hands. “We’ve heard this song five times. Why can’t we play a radio station or something? We’ve got the satellites for it.” She glances out the big window by the front doors, her eyes flicking wistfully back and forth between every person walking past. They probably had more exciting lives than this.

Her coworker, currently alphabetizing a row of media disks, shrugs impatiently. She doesn’t even give Brita a side glance or anything.

Brita huffs and shuffles her feet back to lean down onto the counter even more, bent at quite the impressive 90 degree angle.

This coworker girl had proven to be quite a stick-in-the-mud, which made for a pretty lame conversation partner. And as awful as it made her feel, Brita still couldn’t remember her name. Calling her Krylorian Coworker has worked just fine in Brita’s brain, but that probably isn’t going to last very long without accidentally slipping out one day. Oh, well. Maybe soon she’ll pull a good old, ‘So how do you spell your name anyway?’

Brita had pretty much used every ice breaker she could think of today, which had very visibly worn Krylorian Coworker’s patience pretty thin. She had only really responded to like, three of them. Brita sighs, her gaze out the window again.

It wasn’t her fault that today had been so slow and sludgy. Like tromping through the sloppiest terrain of the swampiest planet. The ground would probably suck at her boots, making her legs magnet to the mushy ground and her whole body burn with exertion. It would probably be hot, too, the combination of muggy air and sweat plastering hair to her forehead. She’d push it out of her eyes, blinking away the blur, and she’d see a figure come into focus. A familiar figure also trekking through the muck in front of her, strong and stout legs visibly strained with effort. He’d be holding a big gun, of course, probably one with little red blinking lights that flash through the murky air. Air you could feel as you inhaled, such thick and humid air in this swampy environment. He’d turn his head back to look at her, pretty auburn eyes alight with mirth. That fluffy ringed tail would swish behind him, an ear flicking as he opens his mouth to say something clever…

“You’re daydreaming, Brita.”

Krylorian Coworker stares, a hand on one hip and her eyebrow raised. “I can literally see you disappearing.”

Brita blinks hard, the yellow lighting of the media store melting away the trees and mud from her imagination. She lets out a breath as she comes back to reality, straightening up and stretching her arms above her head. “And that’s why I wanted some new music. I’m getting bored out of this dimension.”

Coworker shakes her head, huffing in amusement as she goes back to her alphabetizing.

Brita gives her own huff, and walks around the counter. It’d be better to actually do something with herself. Maybe she should alphabetize like Boring Coworker.

She makes her way down a couple aisles of holo-vid disks, glancing at the labels. She smiles, her heart doing that skipping thing it always does when she thinks about her favorite things. She’d apparently subconsciously wandered to her favorite section, the Terran holo-vids. Movies, she knows they’re called, but that’s not universal enough according to boss man who was in charge of this d’ast store. And the tech is different, anyway, he’d said. Whatever, Brita knew better than that old fart.

Her fingers run along the labels, stopping to reminisce at a few favorites. One day she was going to consume every single piece of Terran media in the store, and even further one day, the whole Terran planet. Every movie, every song, every book…everything.

Ring-ding-ling.

The little bell on the door announces, after at least an hour of nothing, a living being. Brita leans back, angling her head to look at the front doors. A guy with somewhat curly hair and a red leather jacket is stepping through, looking…amazed, actually. As he makes his way towards the aisle she’s standing in, Brita studies him further and is pretty sure she recognizes the things on his t-shirt. Her eyes widen.

An earth dude!

Before she can even process her body moving, she’s in front of him, all smiles. “Hi, how are ya?”

The guy blinks at her, seemingly coming out of some kind of trance, and his face lights up. “How long has this place been here? I’ve never noticed a…what, record store-slash-bookstore-slash-Blockbuster?”

Brita figures that’s an earth thing, and her heart flutters in excitement.

“Yeah, maybe a few months? Short enough lots of people haven’t been in yet, long enough it feels like ages if you’re working here.” She grins, leaning against the shelf next to her casually.

The comment lands, and the guy laughs. “I get that. But, I feel like this is probably the coolest place to work in all of…anywhere. You’ve got something from every planet I know the name of in here, just from what I can tell right away. That’s freakin’…epic.”

His enthusiasm is intoxicating. Brita beams at him, anxious to make this interaction last as long as possible. “Oh, dude, believe me, it is epic. Working here has permanently changed my life. I get to hear earth music and talk about movies…that’s a dream.”

He lights up even more, which Brita didn’t even think was possible, and his big open-mouthed smile says, “You like earth movies?”

She feels a beautiful conversation brewing, the feeling punctuated with Coworker’s exasperated sigh from across the counter, and Brita nods with a grin.

“Hell yeah I like earth movies.”

She’s not even sure how many minutes pass, she’s so enveloped in her favorite conversation she’s ever had. They gush over their favorites, which somehow don’t overlap at all even though they’re both familiar with everything brought up. The difference in taste is almost comical to her. She feels like she could be here for days, the world could pass away and she’d be completely content just standing here, talking to this man in a red jacket. Brita doesn’t even process her surroundings until she hears someone clearing their throat behind her.

Snapped back to earth, she realizes Coworker is raising a brow. Right. Work. Job.

“Sorry,” she laughs lightly and folds her arms as she leans against the shelf again, “you were looking for which one?”

“Oh, yeah. Footloose, can you believe Drax and Rocket both haven’t seen it yet, even though it’s the greatest movie of all time…”

Every muscle in her body stiffens. Her folded arms tighten against her chest and she feels her fingers dig into her arms. He’s still talking, she can tell with his mouth still moving, but nothing he says is reaching her ears anymore.

Rocket. Rocket. All she can see now are those bourbon eyes. A voice rings back into her processing, but not the voice of the dude, it’s deep and rumbles through her core. This guy, this Terran guy, was friends with Rocket. An earth dude that’s friends with Rocket AND Drax, how did he get so lucky…

Suddenly, it clicks.

“Wait, wait, stop.” She knows she’s interrupting, and she doesn’t care. “You’re freaking Peter Quill.”

He mouth quirks into a bit of a confused grin, one eyebrow inching up. “Uh, yeah I am.”

She blinks at him. She knows she looks stupid. “Sorry, I didn’t, uh, I didn’t... Not to be, like, weird, y’know. I just. That’s so cool. I’ve always wanted to actually talk to the guardians, they seem like, such…incredible friends. I hear about you all the time.”

His smile is sly, but there’s a heartwarming expression in his eyes. “They talk about me, huh?” He nods and glances over behind her shoulder. “…They are the best friends I’ve ever had.”

Before she can respond, another voice materializes behind her. One she’s only heard once, months and months ago in real life, but countless times in her imagination. Gravelly yet liquid gold at the same time.

“Pete, holy crap, d’you get lost or what?”

Peter Quill smirks and lifts a hand in mild defense. “Just talkin’ to…” he glances at her name badge, “Brita here about stupid earth movies, man.”

Brita is frozen in place. She desperately begs her brain to send any kind of signal to her body, to make it move, but it’s complete radio silence up there.

The presence behind her moves past, then stands next to Peter Quill. That tail swishes casually and those ears flick, just like in her dreams.

Peter is saying something. She tries to tune in. “Brita, this is my buddy Rocket.”

The furry face tilts his chin up in a nod. The auburn eyes flit up and down her body, studying her.

“How ya doin’?” Says Rocket Raccoon, who is standing directly in front of her on purpose for the first time ever.

Brita can feel how huge her eyes are, the skin above her cheeks and under her eyebrows feels strained. She probably looks ridiculous. Why can’t she say anything? She glances at Coworker for a lifeline. A clue of what she should even do right now.

Krylorian Coworker’s eyes widen, and for the first time since Brita can remember, she looks genuinely interested in what’s happening in front of her. Coworker has been told possibly way too much about the hearty interest in this particular guardian of the galaxy. The subject of all of the daydreams Brita keeps getting caught in. The one that brought her here, to Knowhere, even though he definitely had no idea that was the case.

Brita can feel her mouth opening and closing, and she just knows she looks like a stupid fish. She smashes her mouth shut and conjures up a smile that is probably a little too big. She forces a word out of her mouth.

“Hi!”

[i-write-boop-spoops]

Leon with a wheelchair-user! S/O headcanons!

on mobile again (on the bus this time so slay) so apologies if formatting is weird!

thanks so much to the person who requested this! you were a great help ! and apologies for the wait omg

features gn! reader and leon being a good bf!

disclaimer: i am not a wheelchair user nor have any mobility-related issues (i am disabled though, one of those cheeky visually impaired girlies 🦯) so as always, if i have made a mistake, please don't hesitate to reach out and i'll get it sorted!

One thing about Leon

Is that he's strong

So fit

And so willing to give a hand

So if you ever need to take break from rolling your wheels yourself

He's so ready and willing to push you about

In fact, whenever you're out together, he always offers to push your wheelchair right away

It's very sweet, how caring he is, but also how respectful he is when you decline

He'll carry you too

No problem at all

Bridal-style, (te)piggyback, over his shoulder firefighter-style

Whatever you prefer!

It comes in handy when you're in a place that's not very accessible

Or, you just want your big strong man to lift you up like you’re nothing

If you ever need him to help you stand, you know he's got you

You feel so secure and safe in his arms!

This also goes if you ever need support when walking

Gets his car refitted to make it more accessible for you

now you have no excuse, you have to ride in the carizard

Renovates his place too

He plans to wake up next to you for the rest of his life, it's the least he can do

Being the champion’s S/O has a ton of perks

You get invited to exclusive events, get TONS of free stuff, be the most envied person in the region

You find people are more likely to go and above and betond for you

Not because you require accomodations though don’t be silly

But because your boyfriend is the unbeatable champuon

It’s not the best reason for your needs being met

You’ll take what Ws you can get honestly

Lee, by the nature of his career

And really, by his kind and generous personality

Does a lot of charity work

Even working with wheelchair-user related charities before you two ever met

But being with you, seeing your day-to-day. witnessing how inaccessible the world can be

In ways he would have never considered

Really upped his contribution to these charities

He's tryna give you the best life he can

Trying to provide that for others in your situation seems only the right thing to do, especially considering his position

Has a wheelchair patch on his cape to show support during his matches

Luckily Wyndon Stadium is state-of-art

In terms of everything - accessibility included!

It is the crown jewel of Galar after all

Ramps, lifts, automatic doors. multiple accessible bathrooms, specialized viewing areas for wheelchair users

Accessible showers too ;)

Even the VIP area is wheelchair-friendly!

Though you tend to watch from his locker room instead

So you can give your champ a big ol'smooch after his match

Occasionally idotic interviewers praise him for how “brave” and “inspiring” he is for openly dating a disabled peron

Of course, he’s quick to shut that kind of ignorant, condescending shit down

He won’t let anyone talk about you that way

The media, his fans, even people you know

It really grinds his gears – even more since he knows he can’t get angry in public

Naturally, he’s  your biggest cheerleader

He is always there to encourage you 

To give you that support when you're struggling with something

He's careful not to push too far though

After all, it's your body, your limits 

You know yourself and what you can do in that moment more than he ever can

But still, you value his encouragement and belief in you

Even if it's just for a confidence boost!

Whatever you do

Don't let him even think about decorating your wheelchair

You've seen how he dresses and his car - there's no way it can go well

[astriar]

Would you like to ramble about your DCA headcanons to us, the audience ?

!! My first ask! Thank you so much! And DUHHH OF COURSE I love talking about the sillies!!!

okay so I have a lot of headcanons that stem from me either willfully ignoring canon or misunderstanding it, but hey fnaf lore is my kinetic sand and I am a child of the early 2000s so let’s go:

—Sun and Moon were good at their job before the virus infected them! I know this is now somewhat backed up by Ruin, with Cassie saying that she always had a good time in the daycare, but I feel like it’s nice to mention!

—Sun was as overwhelming as he was in SB because he was infected with the Virus along with Moon! Normally, he acts a lot more like you would expect a childcare animatronic to act like (again, somewhat backed up by HW2 as Sun speaks a lot more calmly! My little asshole <33)

—On the train of thought as above, here is my own personal interpretation of events that led up to SB: Moon was the first in the Pizzaplex to be infected, and after he realized as such, he blocked himself entirely out of the system and put firewalls up to hell and back, cutting off his communication with Sun!

—Sun started going a little crazy with the stress of keeping up the daycare entirely by himself, and didn’t notice the virus had infected him too until too late! (Basically right before the events of security breach)

—Moon would listen to and enjoy old Panic at the Disco if he had access to non fazbear-approved music

—…night shift employees also happen to find their devices go missing on occasion, only to be returned with some interesting Spotify history

—a lot of people I feel like think Sun would listen to soft indie stuff but I think he would either listen to hard rock or the most deplorable, insufferable hyper-pop on the damn market

—Moon and the DJ are besties!

—Sun can’t leave the daycare, but Chica will come and visit him every once in awhile! Sun gives her his latest knitting project, and Chica usually delivers gossip from across the Pizzaplex Moon happened to miss.

—The rest of the band members steer clear of the daycare, except for Freddy every one in awhile. And Bonnie, of course— Moon was friends with Bonnie.

—Also, non-virus infected Moon is a menace who is generally rude and disrespectful to Pizzaplex employees (smh moon) UNLESS you give him a reason to not be rude and disrespectful

—he operates on an guilty until proven innocent basis and Sun is absolutely the same way with Pizzaplex employees

—Moon is the more public menace, but everyone really should be afraid of Sun, who 100% has less morals

—I don’t even know what to make of canon Eclipse but I love them!! And I genuinely wonder if Sun and Moon were ever rebooted into safe mode before Ruin? If so, what kind of role did Eclipse play?

-I also don’t know what to make of Moon’s apparent lore relevance in HW2, and this may be denial speaking, but I feel like maybe Moon wasn’t infected during HW2? Maybe he’s just being his normal, menace-y self? That’s what I think at least but that’s just a theory (a GAME THEORY)

-Jack-O-Moon :D <3

….kay this feels like way too many words BUT I appreciate the chance to ramble!! I definitely try and keep their personalities based in canon (especially in my writing) but I also love everyone who hc’s them heavily!! The fandom is what makes liking these two so enjoyable, so I love seeing any and all takes :D

I sincerely apologize if the formatting is weird (mobile baybee) but! Thank you very much for asking :D

[puffpasstea]

A/N: hi friends! Just posting this requested one-shot. Please read the warnings before you check it out. Also, apologies for the weird formatting. Posting from mobile. Please let me know what you think!

Warnings: mentions of mental illness, self-harm, depression. If you are triggered by any of this, please exercise care and caution; it’s okay if you need to skip this one. I love you and please be good to yourself.

Request: So like imagine yn being addicted to self harm like small cuts on the palm so that they don't really get to be show that much and like harry doesn't know about this. One day harry got a cramp on his hand, so yn was applying the ointment on his hand and massaging it without realizing that the ointment will sting on her palms. After applying she was wincing and wincing, which h noticed and like you can think from here.

——

“Honey, I’m home!” Harry called out in a sing-song greeting, letting his gym bag drop to the floor in a dramatic thud. He set his keys back on the key hanger and followed the candle scent into the bedroom to find his girlfriend.

Her ears perked up at the sound of his voice coming from the entryway. He’d been gone all day and she’d missed him.

“Hello, darlin’” Harry smiled as their eyes locked in the bedroom mirror. She was in front of it, going through her skincare and getting ready for bed. She’d changed the bedsheets, lit candles, turned off most of the lights, she looked cozy and it made Harry’s heart melt.

She turned around, reaching her head upwards as he bent down, meeting her halfway to get a quick kiss. “Missed you.” He mumbled into her lips.

“How was your day?” She asked as she returned her attention to her serums and lotions, smiling at Harry through the mirror.

“Oh it was great! I had a lot of fun and it was good seeing everyone. Did you have a good day too?” He was a sweaty mess after a long day of playing soccer - or as he liked to correct her: football- with his friends. His curls, still damp with sweat, were clipped back, he wore two layers of Nike gym shirts, and soccer shorts, his knee-high socks, once white, were now muddy and stained grey. But even in his post-workout mess, she thought he looked perfect, especially the way he was smiling. The activity had clearly done him good.

“So, who won?” She asked, rubbing her moisturizer in circular motions onto her face.

“We did, of course!" Harry was rambling on about how it was a close call by halftime and they almost tied with the other guys a couple of times. Reliving the highlights as he recounted them, he looked like an excited little kid, but she couldn’t help but notice something as she watched his hand gestures in the reflective glass. Everything he’d said after she caught the cut on his hand meant nothing to her.

“What’s that?” She said, frowning at his moving hand.

“What’s what? Oh! That? Well, I, uhm, kind of fell when we were playing. Landed on top of my own hand. It’s nothing serious though! Just a couple of bruises, some superficial scrapes. Doesn’t even hurt that bad.”

“Oh my god, Harry!” She shook her head, immediately leaping to her feet and abandoning her skin products. “Let me see that!” She took his hand in hers, turning it over and examining his injury.

Harry was no stranger to these kinds of injuries. The occasional overzealous gym session, cramps from getting back into playing the guitar after a long break, acrobatics onstage gone slightly wrong, he was accustomed to it by now, but he loved watching her fuss over him. The care and attention she always gave him made him feel loved and spoiled, so he wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity for her to look after him.

“Don’t worry, baby. It’ll be good as new in a few days.” He reassured her when he noticed her running her fingers over the injury and clicking her tongue in disapproval.

“Gotta be more careful, Harry.” She mumbled under her breath. “Don’t want you getting hurt….let’s get it cleaned up.”

Harry tried to protest but she had already made up her mind. She dragged him into their main bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit and his muscle sprain cream. Harry made a suggestive joke about “playing doctor” and wink at her. She pretended to be over it, rolling her eyes and warning him not to get any ideas, but she secretly loved his silly jokes.

She’d managed to successfully clean his scraped skin to prevent it from getting irritated or infected, now, she just needed to apply some antiseptic before bandaging it up and massaging his hand. Unfortunately, she got too caught up in being his nurse that, for a moment, she unthinkingly forgot to watch out for her own secret scars. The antiseptic from Harry’s hand was quickly revealing them. The contact with her skin sending a burning feeling throughout her arm. She kept a straight face at first, determined not to flinch, move her hand away, or let her face show any signs of pain so that Harry might remain in the dark. But the longer she fiddled with Harry’s hand, the more of the sterilizing fluid clung to her palm and the harder it was to hide her pain.

“B-baby? You alright?” Harry’s eyes watched her carefully.

Shit. He’d caught on to her wincing.

“Mhm.” She pretended to be clueless, keeping her eyes on his hand to avoid having to face him.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” Harry persisted.

The closer he watched her, the faultier her act was. Finally, she withdrew her hand hissing in pain. “I-it’s nothing. Guess my skin’s cracked or something.” She bluffed, hoping he’d drop the subject.

Harry wasn’t buying it, though. Not when he literally just walked in on her lathering herself from head to toe with all kinds of skin products. He knew she took good care of herself. “Well, lemme see…” gently, it was his hand that was examining hers now. His face went white as a ghost when he saw the inside of her palm.

They stood there, in silence, for what felt like an eternity. She watched him look down at the scars, speechless. Eventually, she began to shake in his hands, knowing that the hiding was over. He knows now. Harry could obviously see and feel the trembling of her fingers, but he said nothing.

“B-baby? W-what’s, um, what’s all this?” She could tell from his voice that his question was just a courtesy he was giving her. He already knew the answer.

Even though she knew this is the moment that she’d been caught, some still desperate part of her persisted in her lies. She figured maybe his question was a way out of this conversation. He pretends not to know what he’s looking at, so she could pretend it’s not what he thinks, and this whole thing could be over. She said she’d just cut herself making dinner the other day, but Harry had more follow up questions. When was this? What was she doing? Where was he? Why didn’t she say anything? Those scars look deep. They look intentional. There’s more than one of them. The more holes he poked in her sorry excuse of a story, the harder it was to escape the inevitable. Finally, she broke down.

“I’m sorry, Harry, I’m so sorry….” She murmured through tears, her knees buckling underneath her, she dropped to the floor.

Without thinking, Harry immediately joined her on the bathroom floor, a hand on her shoulder.

He did his best to remain calm, but the truth is, a fire was burning in his chest. Even as he held her close, he couldn’t help but feel like they were oceans apart. How could he have been oblivious this whole time?! This had happened right under his nose. He had no idea how she was feeling, let alone what her feelings had led her to do to herself. This had had happened all the while they’d been going out with friends; she’d been visiting him at work; they’d been road-tripping across the country. Things were supposed to be fine. She was supposed to be okay. How come he couldn’t see it?!!

Harry knew his girlfriend had struggled. He knew her battle with depression was something that she’d dealt with all her life. Long before they’d ever met. She would occasionally even express not feeling great about herself, but, for the most part, whenever she confided in him, she spoke as if the worst of it had happened in the past. Like she was out of the woods now, things were better, more tolerable, manageable. She’d been evasive about the details, and he never pushed her to say more than she was comfortable with, not wanting her to relive those memories. He never imagined her feeling so in pain and so alone that she had to resort to hurting herself. Should he have pushed her to talk to him? Should he have said more? It was now dawning on him that, maybe in not asking her about it, he’d made himself unreachable. Given her the impression that she couldn’t talk to him. That, above all else, broke his heart. The idea that his girl could be laying right next to him every night, carrying such pain inside of her, while he slept soundly through the night.

He felt his own tears begin to spill, but he didn’t want to make this about HIS feelings. So he squeezed them tightly a few times and cleared his throat before finally speaking up.

“H-how long?”

She hated that question. It felt like he was interrogating her. Establishing a timeline of her crimes. Piecing together the details of her lies. She worried that if he knew, he’d be angry with her. Doubt her trust. “Does it matter?”

“Jus’ umm…not trying to make this about me, but..why- why? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Say what? ‘Hey, honey, just a heads up, I’ve been feeling so out of control and miserable that I’ve cut myself a few times, no worries though, should be good soon?’”

“No, why? Why let yourself feel so awful to the point where you had to do that without telling me how you feel? I-“ he paused, realizing that his tone was more accusatory than comforting. That’s not how he ever thought he would speak to her. He took several deep breaths, running through his mind for things to say. For what he would like to hear his partner say if he were in her shoes. For something meaningful. Something other than platitudes like “I’m here for you” and “you’re so brave” and “talk to me.” But he came up short.

“Why, y/n?” He was openly crying now. “You’re so beautiful. And kind. And smart. And you work so hard, and so many people love you.”

She was shaking her head with every word he spoke.

“No. No, I’m not. That’s the thing, Harry!” Her voice broke. “I- this- it isn’t me! This person you’re describing! That’s not who I am. I don’t know who she is, but she isn’t me. I feel like I’ve lied to you! To everyone! Everyone thinks I’m this great person. I’m not! I desperately want to be. I want to be normal. I want to be good. I try. I try so hard to be the kind of person that everyone thinks I am, and I hate that I am not. I’m just not. Everyday that I’m not, I feel like I’ve let everyone down. That I’m gonna be caught. Found out. And once people realize what a mess I am, they’ll be afraid of me. YOU’LL be afraid of me.”

“Is- is that why you never said anything?” Harry was incredulous. The words coming out of her mouth seemed so outrageous. He sniffled, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand.

“I- I don’t wanna be a burden to anyone. Don’t wanna add to anyone’s problems.” She exhaled loudly, mustering up whatever remains of courage she had left to make it through this conversation. “Everyone has problems, Harry! Fuck, I know that more than anyone. I want to make people’s lives better, not worse.”

Harry turned to look at her through tearful eyes. This was the first time that they’d looked one another in the eyes since sitting on the floor. He could see, clearly, that she believed the words that she was uttering. Just when he thought his heart couldn’t possibly shatter anymore, he felt it break again. She looked so small, helpless, lost in her thoughts. He knew that this was bigger than him. He wasn’t going to be able to fix it. And he certainly wasn’t going to make it all go away with one conversation. But he needed to at least try.

“Baby, I- the fact that you would ever think your pain would be a burden to me breaks my heart.” He finally said, shaking his head and pulling her in for a hug. Kissing the top of her head, he whispered in her ear “I love you, y/n, so much.”

Hearing him confess his affection should’ve been comforting. Who doesn’t want to hear their partner tell them that they love them? To her, it felt like a stab in the heart. “But, I’m no good for you. Im so broken, it’s-“

“Don’t you dare say that! Don’t ever say that, okay? Those scars don’t change anything. You’re still you. Your pain doesn’t make you any less beautiful, any less smart, any less kind…you’re perfect.”

She broke down, sobbing into his chest, his clothes muffling her cries. She heard him, listened to his heart beating as he spoke the words, but she’d been so alone and so in pain for long enough to feel like this kind of love didn’t apply to her. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the acceptance that Harry was offering. She couldn’t even come up with an adequate response.

“I don’t know what to say.” She finally spoke when her cries had let up.

“You don’t have to say anything, baby. Just promise me you’ll talk to me.”

“Harry- you can’t-“

“I’m not trying to. I’m not trying to fix it. I just want you to know that you can come to me. You can tell me how you feel. You don’t have to pretend to be okay when you’re not. Not for my sake.”

“You…really want that? You won’t be disappointed?”

“Never. Never ever. Promise me? Please, y/n, promise you’ll talk to me.”

“Promise.”

[valkyrie-night-103]

May i inquire about Societal collapse club?

Yet again, apologies for the delay!

This started as an outline/summary but it’s kind of. Not. You’ll see what I mean!! Chuck/Orange/Trent is the only onscreen ship, but Wheeler has an incredibly horny interaction with Bryan. This is more minor than most apocalyptic aus, but still proceed with caution if there’s a common trope/topic in this genre that may bother you!

This is also incomplete as plot goes, but if there is interest it will definitely get written!! Tumblr formatting is awful on mobile so aesthetically this may not be ideal.

Wheeler Yuta’s adopted family have always been weird. With his two laid-back dads in Chuck Taylor and Orange Cassidy, a mean and strange big sister in Kris Statlander and, his least favourite, a recently returning sort-of-dad who hates his guts in Trent Barretta, life is less than simple. Unfortunately for Yuta, he learns that the total collapse of society is not enough to change that.

When Yuta had come home for spring break with his family, it became even more clear that their household has always been frenetic and strange, and their lives as a family unit will always be chaotic. Trent wasn’t around for most of his youth, spending a lot of time abroad and in a long-distance relationship with Yuta’s dads, and it’s becoming steadily apparent that he and Yuta do not get on.

On day 3 of crashing on his dads’ couch, all hell breaks loose. Over the course of hours, laws become worthless as the paper they’re written on, and the people are left to fend for themselves. (I have not decided why yet)

They scrape by for the first few weeks. Chuck and Orange are as doting as ever, Kris shows him the same tough-love as always, but Trent is harsher on Yuta. When they think he’s asleep, and Chuck and Trent are the ones keeping watch, he can hear the way Trent says that he only came back to leech off them, that they should ditch him. Chuck responds angrily, but it doesn’t bring comfort.

When on a supply run, his family collides with another group of survivors, the Blackpool Combat Club. Yuta, longing for someone other than his family to provide company, extends an olive branch. The eldest man, likely the leader, slaps him hard across the face. He squares up, but is laughed off by the older man. Yuta knows if he strikes that they’ll all be shot dead before Chuck can even try to stop him, and backs down.

That night, Trent and his other dads spend the evening arguing. He doesn’t even try to eavesdrop, but he still hears Trent saying that Yuta wants to leave them, that he doesn’t care at all. He blocks it out, because something in him knows that this isn’t the last time that he will encounter the BCC. He is right.

A few days later, they’re clearing a large grocery store of what little remains. Yuta encounters the BCC, before getting into a brawl with one of the members because of his refusal to relinquish supplies, and though he gets his ass handed to him, the older man smiles at him and says something about potential. When Trent finds him on the floor, bruised and bleeding, he nudges Yuta in his bruised ribs with a foot to check if he’s alive. Yuta groans.

“A shame.” He mutters, and calls for Chuck and Orange. He loves his family but he can’t live like this. Trent will not shut up about Yuta being dead weight, useless, all that crap, and Chuck isn’t saying anything against him anymore. Does he believe it too?

“I think I might go it alone, soon.” He says, and Chuck reacts so poorly to even the abstract concept that Yuta doesn’t bring it up again.

He just can’t get it out of his head, the way that the leader smiled at him. Like he was proud, impressed. He wants to chase it. It’s a blind fantasy and he knows it, but he can’t stop from wanting. Kris tugs him along as they find somewhere to settle for the night. He sleeps with the blood still drying on his face.

They’re trying to find somewhere to settle for a while, until Yuta heals up. The elbow hits him from behind, and though he crumpled, he doesn’t back down, fighting dirty with his knees and elbows.

He recognises the man immediately, another member of the BCC, but this time the fight is different. Less explosive, more methodical. His hair is pulled and his body is contorted, he tries to keep fighting, rolls around with his attacker for a while.

It’s like they’re looking for him, trying to get him alone. The thought is intriguing. Do they think he’s some kind of threat? No, that can’t be right, he got his ass handed to him. A bargaining chip, something to hold over their heads to make an unfair trade? If that were the case, they would have taken that opportunity last time.

Are they trying to recruit him?

Yuta takes his eye off the ball for a moment too long, and then he’s been manipulated into a stretch that opens up his side, exposing his ribs to the assailant. The man digs his elbow into the barely healed bruising, mottled and rosy on his skin like rotten rose petals. Yuta screams, guttural and desperate, thrashing in an attempt to destabilise him. Tears prick at his eyes, but he grits his teeth through it as his attacker plays him like he’s tuning a piano, pressing down in different places, monitoring the pitch of Yuta’s cries.

He gasps in relief, almost sobs as the man relents for a brief moment, only to choke on a tormented shout at a vicious downward strike. If something wasn’t broken before, it is now. He almost calls out for Chuck in his desperation, but bites it back. He’s not a little kid calling for daddy after Maxwell beat him up on the playground. He’s a grown-ass man, and he’ll act like one. He can’t give them a reason to get rid of him.

He squirms even though he knows he’s held fast, trying to get free. He’s gasping, wincing with every breath.

“Regal certainly wasn’t exaggerating.” He says almost whispering in Yuta’s ear. He can hear the cruel, satisfied smile. “You’ve got fight in you. Mox, he always brings it out in people regardless, but you… you’ve got heart. I like that. What’s your name, kid?”

“Yuta!” Chuck cries out from downstairs, and Yuta can feel the fear in his voice. It seems a bit delayed, but in reality it can’t have been more than a few moments since the first real blow. They can hear heavy footsteps on stairs, and he finally relents, retreating toward a window.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Yuta.” He says, smile a little less icy as he sits on the windowsill and opens it up. “I’m Bryan. Bryan Danielson.”

Chuck bursts into the room, making a dash for the window, but Bryan is already on the balcony, dropping down to the next. He lets out some

colourful curses before sliding on his knees to Yuta’s side. He wheezes a little and the pain is blinding, but he’s not bleeding as far as they can see.

Chuck looks so worried about him, and it makes him feel horrible for wanting to leave so badly. When he rejoins the others, Kris tackles him with a hug despite his requests, Orange pats his back and gives him a soft look, and Trent’s eyes bore a hole in his skull.

Things are quiet for a couple weeks. Yuta’s ribs begin to heal and they’re able to rummage through a clothes store for something that is not stained with layers of blood and grime. Chuck doesn’t leave his side, and they’re just about to leave when Yuta sees them. He stops for a moment, just looks on, playing it off as assessing a threat.

The leader, Regal, his mind supplies, looks right at him. He smiles, that same smile he wore when stood over Yuta. Kris tried to tug him onward, as she often does when he is lagging behind, but he pulls away. He puts one foot in front of the other, feigning confidence until it feels reel.

He shakes Regal’s hand, grasping firm and true. The twinkle in his eyes is unmistakable.

He tries not to look back, he tries to keep his eyes forward, but he does catch Chuck’s heartbroken expression in the corner of his eye.

[beestypos]

Nightmares & Cuddles

a/n: I am currently on mobile, so apologies for any weird formatting. Anyways, here’s some Tsumiki content because she deserves so much more. Characters: Tsumiki and reader Possible Spoilers (I believe this is all season 1 content, but I'm not a 100% sure)

You were awoken by a small hand grabbing at you in your bed. It was Tsumiki, holding her new plush. She looked worried and a bit teary eyed when she whispered, “Megumi is having a bad dream and I can’t wake him up,”

You get out of bed, gently so as to not disturb Satoru, and follow Tsumiki into her brother’s bedroom, where Megumi was whimpering and crying softly, his head turning from side to side as he tried to reach for something. You started to let your cursed energy flow around you, using reverse cursed technique (something that you had discovered had a rather calming effect on people around you when you used it), as you gently called his name and murmured softly into his hair. You watched as his breathing calmed down and the tossing and turning stopped. As he slowly curled back into a ball, you placed his favourite plushy into his arms, before moving back a strand of hair and kissing his forehead.

You turned around to find Tsumiki, standing in the doorway, still looking anxious. Lifting her up in your arms, you carry her to her room and lay her in bed. You continue using reverse cursed technique and mutter in her ear that everything is alright, hoping to calm her down further, to no avail.

“What’s wrong, Tsumi?” Her silence makes you wonder if she had woken up because of her brother’s noise or if she had had a nightmare of her own, which leads you to ask her, “Did you also have one, Tsumi?” She nods, looking down at her fox-patterned sheets. “Do you want to talk about it?” You prompt her gently, putting a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Megumi’s father was back. And he was yelling at Megumi to control his dogs or else… or else he would not get the money his family would give when Megumi is old enough… and then, we were here, and his family came and.. and they.. they took Megumi away,” she cried into your chest as you rubbed circles into her back and thought about what she had told you.

“Hey, hey,” you whisper into her ear, “that will never happen — Megumi is never going to go there, or anywhere else for that matter. He’s staying with us. And his father will never, ever, come back. I promise you, Tsumiki.”

“But what if he chooses to go? I know that it’s selfish, but.. but…. I don’t want to be alone.” She mumbled, so quietly that you almost did not catch the last part.

Selfish? you thought, how could she think that she’s selfish?

This girl who had managed to live, no survive, with her younger brother for over a year, alone, in a small apartment in a rather sketchy part of town. Who had managed to save up enough money to pay taxes, buy groceries (although they weren’t exactly always very nutritious), provide money for the school and pay for Megumi’s school trips. Who had spent so much of her time worrying over her younger brother before herself. ‘Selfish’ was a strange word indeed.

“Tsumiki, I want you to listen to me very carefully right now, alright?” You said, waiting until she looked up at you to continue speaking, “Wanting to stay with your brother, who, if I may add, you practically raised, and being afraid of him being taken away is not something that is selfish — you have the right to feel that way.” Although it definitely isn’t a normal fear to have, you think.

“And I promise you with my entire soul that no one is going to separate you. As long as ‘Toru and I can help it, neither of you will ever be taken — much less by those Zenins.” You add, firmly, smiling as she slowly wiped the tears that had fallen from her eyes and her body started to relax.

You stay like that for a while, her still on her bed, leaning against your chest. There is no longer a need for words, just comfort.

“Can you sleep with me tonight?” She whispers into your chest. You smile softly at this request; it was the first time she had ever asked this and not only did it mean that she trusted you, but also it felt like such a childlike question that you were also happy that she was acting her age.

You settled into the bed, you never had had the time to buy a proper one for children and had ended up with the queen sized bed from your childhood home. She huddled close to your chest, as you wrapped your arms around her.

That’s how Megumi and Satoru found you the next morning, before going downstairs to make breakfast for the four of you.

[semperbucky]

HEWWO you gotta tell me this, and it's more important than the ACTUAL questions: but does the following make a good fruit salad?

favorite character(s)- 🍋

favorite quote(s) from a fandom- 🍐

favorite costume/outfit: 🍇

favorite finale episode: 🍓

aaa tysm!!!!

first & foremost (the most important question): i think these would make a p good fruit salad! maybe have the lemon be included as lemon juice instead of slices & that fruit salad would be tasty af

(full disclosure i have so many blorbos rotating around in my head at any given moment these are less 'favorites' & more 'the ones that are in my head the most' but i guess that's kind of what favorites are? but i digress) (also apologies for any formatting weirdness - i'm on mobile & never get asks so i have no idea what i'm doing lol)

🍋 favorite character(s): bucky barnes has my whole entire heart (hence the blog name) but i also adore geralt & jaskier from the witcher, entrapta & scorpia from she-ra, basically every character from m*a*s*h (except frank) especially radar, jack (& bitty) from omgcp, & cullen, alistair, dorian, fenris, & josephine from dragon age. i've also been watching a stupid amount of cr recently (trying to catch up on campaign 1 so the references in campaign 3 make more sense - got up to ep72 so far) so i could go through my favorite character from each campaign? it'd probably have to be keyleth (is she endearingly awkward? yes. could she kill me with one look? also yes), caleb (liam o'brien tears my heart out once again), & imogen (we stan a horse girl w terrifying moon powers & a fun scary girlfriend). there's approximately a million more & i've definitely left some out but those are the ones that are popping into my head rn.

🍐 favorite quote(s) from a fandom: the funny thing is that for someone who prides themselves on their brain consisting mostly of quotes/references, i'm drawing an absolute blank. maybe it's a contextual thing? like you have to say the right words in the right order before the quote part of my brain kicks in or something. "'til the end of the line" comes to mind bc of what it represents & everything they've been through together (we gleefully ignore the last bit of endgame). or "it's love that makes people." (alternatively: "life needs things to live.") if you want something even cheesier, i met hayley atwell in london a few years ago & asked her to write "have courage & be kind" on a piece of paper & i plan on getting it tattooed on me somewhere when i finally get the courage to spend money on non-essential things lol

🍇 favorite costume/outfit: it's so basic but i very distinctly remember being entranced by arthur's everyday look from bbc merlin?? like just the simple red shirt & leather pants w the boots & a jacket sometimes. looked so comfy. maybe it was just thinly veiled gender envy disguised as appreciation for the outfit lol. & any time they put morgana in green or her witchy outfit i just 😍

🍓 favorite finale episode: idk if this refers to a season finale or a series finale, so we're gonna pick series finale. i don't usually like finale episodes of any variety bc they mean something is ending, but there are a few that end with just the right amount of closure to make it satisfying. the one that comes to mind rn is the finale of exandria unlimited: calamity (yeah it's not a tv show but it's still a "series" so it counts). brennan lee mulligan is a godsdamned fantastic dm & the whole cast knocked it out of the fuckin park. it hurt like a motherfucker but it was so beautifully done & it was the best tragic but hopeful ending to a series i've seen in a while, possibly ever.

thank you again! hope u are having a lovely day 😊

[kronwrites]

Find the word tag! Tagged by @wildswrites

Thanks for the tag, It was fun to dig though my different doc’s for this! Due to the fact that both The Lamont Dissent and Lore are audio dramas, I’m writing it in script form (which I’m still getting used to/figuring out proper formatting) so some of the excerpts are more dialogue heavy than others, that being said I was able to find 3 excerpts!

(also if you think the formatting of this looks weird, no you don’t. I did this all on mobile while on lunch break so apologies!)

The words I was tagged with are Knowledge, Kinship, Knot, Key and Kettle

LORE

Valarie: Alright, let’s see what we’re working with.

[The key turns in the lock, an old and rusted sound, the door slowly creaks open on hinges that desperately need oiled, Footsteps transfer from loose gravel to the clunking of boots on hardwood as the two make their way into the small cabin.]

Miles: Okay, you know what? I get it. I get why he didn’t want to stay here, this place is fucking creep central.

The Lamont Dissent

Jasper: Hold on. How did you even get in? My front door is locked.

Mica: C’mon dude, the little Dracula guy with the watering can of blood in your flowerbed? You really haven’t moved your spare key in like eight years?

Officer Quincy: Mica please, I don’t think this is how your mom would like to welcome you home.

Mica: Yeah, yeah I’m going. Don’t get your holster in a knot.

In return I am tagging (with no pressure of course) @thearchangelwrites and a general open tag if you wanna try it out!

Your words are City, Storm, Dark, Smoke and Fight

Lamont Dissent tag list: @thearchangelwrites @thecatsgrave @wildswrites

[jasmine-tea-latte]

(Some of) My Favorite Zutara fics

Warning, looong post ahead!

Zutara Fanworks Appreciation Week snuck up on me, so sadly I haven’t had time to properly contribute anything. I’d love to participate next year or maybe even before then (I play by my own rules, folks!)

Still, though. I wanted to at the very least pay tribute to some of my all-time favorite Zutara fanfics that I’ve enjoyed and have inspired me over the years.

(Click here for my post on Self-Love Saturday, where I shamelessly promote my series The Phoenix and the Dragon and share a bit of backstory behind how it came to be in the first place.)

I’ve shipped Zutara ever since Fall 2006, and I have been fortunate to read so many excellent fanfics since then.

Some have made me laugh, others made me sob, others straight up made my heart burn like it was shot full of lightning:

So in honor of @zkfanworkweek​, below are 13 of my favorite Zutara fanfics, in no particular order:

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Rated G(eneral)/T(een)

Engulfed by Luaburachid

Zuko finds himself engulfed by love.

A sweet one-shot of our favorite firebender discovering how deep his feelings are for a certain waterbender. It’s just pure fluff and always brings a smile to my face.

 we hold our hearts in silence by psychedelic_aya

Seventy years later, Korra tries to figure out Zuko and Katara.

Oh, this one is so bittersweet but oh so good. It alternates between flashbacks and Korra’s POV watching an older Zuko and Katara interact. Just… ugh. My heart.

 Day 6: Found by SooperSara

When Sokka comes up with an idea to get rid of Joo Dee, Katara finds herself in the Lower Ring of Ba Sing Se with a tea server she did not expect to meet.

I love a good Jasmine Dragon AU where Katara / the Gaang actually interacts with Zuko while he’s undercover as Lee from the tea shop instead of what happened in “The Guru.” This is so much fun to read, and my only complaint is that it’s not longer.

 Celestial by SooperSara

An unexpected dip into the koi pond at the North Pole brings Zuko in contact with the spirits and grants him insight to his destiny. A destiny he isn’t sure he wants.

Another by the talented SooperSara! Actually, you should check out all of her stuff. It’s all so good, and I absolutely adore this one. It’s pretty canon-compliant and the ending… oh, the ending makes me tearbend. Ma’am, I’m still weepy.

 this little fuse we lit made something in you by SecondStarOnTheLeft

There's a secret door in the wall of Katara's room. Things go a little further than planned, once she opens it.

What happens when Katara discovers a secret tunnel (secret, secret, secret tunnel, yeah!) that leads directly to the Fire Lord’s bedroom? Reading this fic is like settling down to drink a hot cup of Iroh’s tea – it’s soothing, sweet, and thoroughly warms the soul.  

 Dancing in the Dark by damagectrl

Post-Season 2 AU: While in Ba Sing Se, Katara and Toph hear a rumor about two tea servers in the lower tiers of Ba Sing Se and sneak away go to investigate only to have their suspicions confirmed. On her personal time, Katara tries to teach herself to dance and fails so badly, a masked man takes pity on her to try to help.

This is one most OGs will probably remember. It’s also one of the first ZK fics I ever read, back when I was a wee lil bb Zutarian! It was originally posted in Oct. 2006 and takes place between “Appa’s Lost Days” and “Lake Laogai.” One of my all-time favorite Bluetara AND Jasmine Dragon AUs. Heck, all of damagectrl’s works are fantastic reads, for that matter. I highly recommend checking them out, especially this classic.

 such selfish prayers by andromeda3116

Katara's ambition, so long set aside for the good of others, breaks free and sets fire to her soul. Or, Katara has a vision of her canon future, casts it aside, and becomes a world-changing politician instead.

There’s a reason why this fic is one of the highest rated on AO3, if not THE highest. It does right by Katara and gives her the ending she deserves. 10/10 would recommend.

 better than things dreamed of in the forest by catie_writes_things (SERIES)

As a child, Bumi knew: his mother was a waterbender, his father was an airbender, and he was a firebender. Something about these facts did not add up, but it would take him a long time to understand.

Hands down, one of the most heartbreaking fics / series I’ve ever read. The author describes this as the adultery fic for people who hate adultery fics, and it certainly packs an emotional punch in the gut. Personally, I’m not one for the “Zuko and Katara have an affair while she’s with Aang” fics in general, but this one examines the fallout caused by a single night of passion and all of the consequences that stem from it, especially how the ripple effect of their choices impacts everyone. Even though it breaks my heart all over again every time I reread it, I can’t recommend it highly enough. 

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(More fics, several with high ratings, are listed below the cut)

Rated M(ature)/E(xplicit)

Moonlight and Sunshadow by GrapefruitTwostep

The dragon offered Katara a deal: protection for her family and tribe if she lived with it for a year and a day. And she said yes. Because what other way was there to save her people? But there was more to the dragon than Katara bargained for. An "East of the Sun, West of the Moon" retelling.

A fairy tale AU in which Zuko is cursed to live as a dragon and Katara is certainly no damsel in distress. You’ve probably heard some version of the original fairy tale before that this fic is inspired by, and it’s such a delight to read.

 The Blackfish and the Dragon by ama

Katara grew up in the Southern Water Tribe under the tutelage of Hama, the only waterbender ever to have escaped Fire Nation captivity. When Zuko arrives at the South Pole, seeking the Avatar, they are more than ready to defend him. Then one day, the Southern Water Tribe receives a petition for peace, and a proposal of marriage.

One of the best arranged marriage AUs I’ve come across. Iroh is crowned Fire Lord after defeating Ozai, and Katara must find some way to peacefully coexist with her hotheaded new husband as she also finds a place for herself in the Fire Nation.

 Confused by thispieceofwork

Zuko stood. "You told Aang you were confused. Are you confused because of me?" Katara was silent, arms crossed in front of her. "Don't make me answer that."

Starts during “The Ember Island Players” where Zuko overhears Aang and Katara’s private conversation on the balcony. This is another fic that will shatter your heart into a million pieces but it’s oh so worth it in the end.

 A Heated Exchange by Smediterranea (SERIES)

Katara had not considered herself to be someone who would have earth-shattering sex with a guy whose name she didn’t even know. But here she was, certain that she had never made a better decision in her life.

An AU two-part series of Katara getting familiar with a certain handsome guy who lives down the hall in her college dorm. It’s funny, cute, and cuddling while watching Planet Earth has never been hotter.

 Bonus day: Tea Shop by cincilin

"Hello and welcome to the Jasmine Dragon. Today's special is—" he cut himself of with a sharp intake of breath, at the same moment that Katara placed the voice and looked up.

'He has hair.' was her first thought. Then the rest of her brain caught up with her and she started to get up, sending Momo scrambling to hide under the table. Season 2 AU, during "The Guru."

I told y’all, I *LOVE* a good Jasmine Dragon AU fic, and this one-shot checks all the boxes: heart-to-heart conversations? Witty dialogue and banter? Bending match that turns into a makeout and something steamier? It’s got it all.

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This was only going to be a list of maybe 5-7fic recs, but well… oops. I also kept the above list to completed works only, just because this post is already long enough.

Several of my other favorites that get honorable mention include:

Thinking Out Loud (WIP)

The Summit (WIP)

Sparrowkeet (Series)

Purr

The Nature of the Blue Spirit

Rhythm of the Rain

Fault Lines

Clarity

Seriously, there are just SO MANY good Zutara fics out there. I had to cut myself off from adding even more, because I could go on and on and on. Much like Admiral Zhao, I have no. self. control. 

I love you all, my fellow Zutarians ❤️💙💜 Mwah! Happy ZFAW! 

[delta-two-two]

I've been requested for some of my Krueger hcs by @cerosin-bis so I'm gonna go ahead and share 'em! (I'm on mobile rn so apologies in advance if the formatting is weird)

-firstly, is 100% not right in the head. idk why but a combination of his appearance and backstory make it seem like he's just. not all there. plus, yk. escaping two murder charges

-Krueger's a master manipulator to the point he can (and has) fabricated personalities and attitudes to fit his needs, wants, or goals.

-he's infuriatingly charismatic without trying to be, its how he gets away with everything (and also being a slippery bastard in the first place)

-likes to get under peoples' skin, learn what makes them tick, and push them beyond their limits just to see the outcome (for funsies). has definitely incurred the ire of many people this way, but the ones who resist/deny him the satisfaction are the ones he ends up respecting usually (after he makes them break ofc)

-in the same vein, he likes to play mind games and enjoys a challenge when people resist him, but absolutely does not like losing and will find a way to break you first before you break him

-loves attention good or bad but will absolutely dip as soon as he's had his fill of it and good luck trying to find him again unless he wants you to

-but still tends to keep to himself for the most part unless he thinks someone is deserving of his attention or if they've earned his respect (usually reserved for allies he trusts) that being said, if he doesn't like you, you will know. if he does like you, you'll know as well. expect him to be more annoying and snarky, he'll just start loitering in your space more, especially if he sees it annoys you

-will not actively seek someone out unless he wants something from them whatever it may be.

-definitely had SOMETHING with Golem (i mean come on you can't tell me they didn't when they have similar finishing move quips; Golem's 'hush now' and Krueger's 'silent now'. I like to think Krueger started it and golem picked it up. plus I mean Krueger's actually almost too friendly while Golem is like. trying to keep him at arm's length eg. Krueger calling Golem "bruder" and asking him stuff and Golem scoffing at Krueger at being called "bruder" and being like "you don't care what I think" etc.)

and I think that's all I have for now :)