#guys i might have covid :

[sugarrcola-blog]

doc put them on separate missions :( SOBS

original image:

[sealbuffed]

post covid south park game where everyone still calls you the new kid but you're a grown ass adult who has lived there for thirty years

[capn-twitchery]

i don't know how i'm eversupposed to be normal again when that ES has dropped on me that someone imprisoned a sacristan. and put a collar on it.

what do you mean that's something that can happen. how am i supposed to feel about that. what do i do with this information. help me

[bloodfreak-boyking]

Sam being unbearably pretty in 1x11 Scarecrow

[stevebabey]

❤️🔥 hiiiii!! here to request a number 23 from prompt list 1: “fumbling with their hand as you tell a story.” i feel like you’d make it so soft and sweet <3

can u tell i was feeling so bad when i started writing this <3 nothing bout this prompt says angst but low nd behold, here's some hurt/comfort !! thank u for requesting alice m'dear :") this is like extra for u considering how sweet u are to me <33 1k+

It’s terribly late.

Really, the both of you should’ve wandered upstairs to bed at least an hour ago. There’s work tomorrow, early for you, less so for Steve, but it’s work all the same. He’ll grumble in the morning like he always does, tired and yawning all through his morning coffee.

Despite knowing this, Steve doesn’t even think of suggesting to turn in soon. Not when it’s one of these nights. 

Sometimes, Steve finds it takes gentle coaxing to get you to unwind from your day. When you spend so much of the day tense, reining in reactions and biting your tongue, he knows it takes more time, more touch. It’s worth losing the sleep, staying up to talk it out. Worth it to know he’s giving you peace of mind. That he can protect you from even restless nights.

Most of the time, you won’t even realise you’re wound up — it’s impossible to sift through feelings when all you feel is down. It’s not until after Steve’s worked his magic that you can tell how long the day has really been. When the stress leaks out of your shoulders and you slump into him like a puppet with its strings cut.

It’s one of those nights tonight.

You’re up on the kitchen counter. How you ended up there is lost in the haze of your tired night. You faintly recall tumbling through the door, somehow after Steve even though you started work before him. Overtime is a bitch.

Between then and now, you’re certain you’ve managed to shovel some food into you but mainly, you’ve been watching Steve fuss about the kitchen. To you, there’s no better remedy that the sight of your lover.

He’d already made dinner by the time you’d gotten in the door, some simple pasta dish, cheesy and delicious. He’d insisted on doing the cleaning up as well, seeing your low-lidded eyes and curled in shoulders. The fatigue rolls off you in waves. It makes Steve’s heart ache in an awful way.

So, he had kissed you sweet and ushered you up onto the counter, his warm hands helping under your thighs when you’d groaned and barely made a move to jump up. He mumbled something soft into your hair, ‘my tired, sweet girl’, and sealed it in with a kiss.

It had been soothing just to watch him, sleeves rolled up while he scrubbed at the soapy dishes. Rinsing the plates and working instinctively, letting the story about his own day come out in quiet rumbles, just letting you listen. You hum from time from time to let him know you’re listening, even if you feel a bit hollow.

But now, dishes done, Steve’s onto his most important job — drawing out the burdens of the day from his you. The cups of tea he’s fixed for both of you are beside you on the counter, long forgotten. Steam stains the air, just a hint of peppermint. 

Steve’s moved between your legs, hips leaning against the counter. He’s close enough that an inch forward and your head would rest against his collarbones. One hand sits on your knee, feather-light touches of his thumb against your skin. The other is held between yours, letting you fumble with it as you talk. Your hands work his fingers, playing with it idly as you talk.

“Yeah? And what’d she say?” He asks, voice low and head tilted to show he’s listening. 

“Y’know, just the usual. It wasn’t what she said, just like,” You sigh wearily, drawing a line down the middle of Steve’s palm with your finger. Your eyes stay fixed on your motions, his hand in your own. Your voice is smaller than you intend as you try to recall the rude memory of your manager today. “The way she said it? I don’t know, does that even make sense?”

“It does,” Steve assures, his hand giving your knee a quick squeeze. When your head remains bowed, still fiddling with his hand, Steve flips it over, his hand covering both yours to still your fidgeting.

“Hey,” He says, soft. His head ducks low, trying to catch your eyes. It’s alarming to see a sheen in them, glossy in a way he knows means tears. Something tears in his heart, his concern doubling in an instant. “Sweetheart, woah, woah, hey.”

You let out a pathetic sniffle and that’s all it takes for Steve’s instincts to kick in, pulling his hand out of your grip to bundle you into his arms. You cave, crumbling into his chest and burying your face away — one of his hands cradles the back of your head, loving strokes along your scalp. The other provides consoling sweeps along the curve of your spine. It all really just makes you want to cry harder.

“S’okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss into the side of your head. It’s warmth seeps into your skin, a silent comfort through your tears. "It's okay, honey."

It feels so utterly stupid to fall apart over something so little, just a bad day that’s crept under your skin, made its home in your nerves. It feels unbearable, trying to unwork it from your blood. You’re not sure how long you cry, just that Steve’s there the whole time.

When you finally pull back, shuddering breaths, Steve’s fingers make quick work to wipe your tears. Calloused fingertips that sweep across your under-eyes, tender and kind.

There’s a light kiss against your forehead, another against your damp cheek, gentle as ever. Steve doesn’t speak, his eyes just searching your face — though you can’t tell what he’s looking for. You’re too dead tired, exhausted by your own emotions, to give any semblance of a smile, even though you feel a bit better now.

“Bed now?” He suggests, voice soft and low. The clock on the wall ticks loudly in the lull of words, a reminder of how long ago you both should’ve been asleep. You nod, pitiful and small. Steve trails the both of you upstairs, sets out your pajamas while you brush your teeth, then waits in the bathroom doorway til you’re done.

It’s close to midnight when you both finally crawl into bed. Steve’s arms are around you the moment you’re beside him and you find immense comfort with your head against his chest. The echo of his heartbeat plays like a lullaby beneath your ear.

“Sorry for keepin’ you up.” You whisper in the dark.

Steve’s arms tighten around you. He shifts around for a moment, then his hand sweeps back the hair off your forehead, and he gives a soft kiss there. It lingers for a few seconds, and when he pulls back, he snuggles closer, resting his cheek atop of your head.

“M’sorry you had a bad day.” He counters. You know he means it completely.

“I love you,” the words slur a bit, feeling yourself already dropping off closer to sleep. It’s impossible not to when you’re this warm and this damn tired.

You’re asleep before you hear his response but it doesn’t matter, you heard it in every kiss, know it from every sweet gesture and moment of the evening. He loves you, and he takes care of you. The sleep is a peaceful one.

[motsimages]

I was doing ok and a conversation with my mother left me full of anxiety. She knows I'm worried about covid, and I feel like I am the only one in all of my social circle who is worried about this and trying to do something (and I think it's the bare minimum really, masking when there is a lot of people or in closed spaces).

She told me she is sick, I told her to get a covid test. She said "well, if it's covid, bad luck". I told her that covid is supercontagious for days and that it creates inmunodeficiency for months, so that is the interest of knowing if it's covid. She still didn't care.

We were planning on eating at her place and now I don't want to because I will have to go with a mask just in case she had covid and she doesn't know.

So it's really that people do not give a shit. I understand the trauma of the pandemic and not wanting to think about it but I really can't grasp how you can just tell a person who you know is worried about covid, who has been telling you that there is a pike in covid cases, that you don't fucking care if you have covid and that you don't want to test, not even for their sake.

[orsanedraws]

I caught that fucking cold in june and I still can't breathe properly

[transfinan]

I'm reading lotr again

[ebbarights]

i have covid kms

[dreamofbecoming]

finally finished gomens 2 with my parents and. agh. listen i’m not saying anything new i know this but i need to put the words here instead of my brain ok

so like it’s all down to the fact that they have completely different understandings of what their relationship is built on, yk? like, we saw in s1 where crowley thinks they began- eden. specifically the moment he learns zira gave his sword away because he thought the humans needed it more than he did. the moment crowley sees that zira will make choices that go against the will of heaven if he thinks it’s right. that’s when he decided they were the same, that moment right then.

but we didn’t see where zira thinks they started until now. crowley seems like he barely remembers the nebula scene. he only references it in response to zira bringing it up, and even then he doesn’t say anything specific. we see several times that he doesn’t remember people he knew before the fall, so it’s possible he hears zira talk about knowing him and just throws out a stock response (“that’s not me anymore” which is true enough regardless of context) in the hopes he won’t notice the lapse. it makes sense to me that he would try to hide his lack of recall from zira and not furfur or saraqael because he doesn’t really give a shit what anyone except zira thinks of him, that’s been firmly established. so it’s entirely possible crowley doesn’t even remember meeting zira before eden at all.

but zira does. he’s built his whole understanding of crowley and their partnership and even his own relationship with heaven on that one interaction. he saw that goofball who was so proud of his nebula and fell ass over tits and never looked back. he believes the angels are the good guys, and he knows crowley is a good guy, so obviously crowley should be an angel. there’s been a mixup somewhere! someone got something wrong! he’s so confident that crowley will always do the right thing, the angelic thing, because “i know the angel you were.” he brings up their opposing roles, their sides, as needed, because he has to maintain appearances, but he always trusts crowley. completely. he never wavers. because crowley is good, and angels are good, so crowley is supposed to be an angel.

and now, finally, after 6000 years, he has a chance to make that happen! he can fix what went wrong! he can give that goofball back his nebula! but that isn’t what crowley hears. because crowley counts their partnership from eden, when he thought they both agreed that heaven and hell were bullshit and they should make their own choices. when he thinks they decided together to be on their own side, not the side of angels or demons.

so when zira says “you’ve been good all along, and now i can finally set right the wrong that was done to you and show everyone who you really are, so they’ll understand what i’ve always seen and why i love you,” crowley hears “i was never on our side, i was just waiting for heaven to take me back, and you’ll never be good enough for me as you are,” and listen i’m going to go to neil’s house and hit him with a brick is what i’m saying ok

[disdaidal]

Though it was a hot day yesterday (something I usually can't deal with), I had to drive to the nearest town and take a walk in the park. I don't usually wear makeup either but I thought, what the heck, might as well put an effort.

Some guy rode their bike past me and whistled at me and it... felt good? lmao

Never thought I'd feel that way about that but guess I am really getting desperate here huh.

[shi0n]

shion happy. shion delighted. shion smiling and laughing.

[calamitys-child]

Unstoppable force (I wanna make a ttrpg campaign I wanna make it so bad it would be so cool) vs immovable object (any time I see a rulebook or a form of literally any kind it makes me hiss and spit and have a furious panic attack and never touch it ever again)

[matchamiko]

I’ll never forget phoning my GP with symptoms of vitamin D deficiency, and her suggesting weight loss surgery instead

[bivampirism]

thinking about becoming full of myself a little bit. i’ll keep u posted

[sanchoyo]

loosey goosey new years resolutions because I did not even start to try and think of them until last night lmao

-update the webcomic every week of this year. i dont think thats unreasonable, one page doesnt take TOO long to make, so even on busy work weeks I should be able to manage esp if I stay ahead. also I want each chapter to be roughly 20~25 pages long so thats like. roughly 2- 2 1/2 chapters only which is. very reasonable and realistic of me!!!

-try more foods. with my diet being so restricted i need to be less picky bc I do not have as many options. and I have not TRIED half the ones i COULD be eating.

-work out more. at least try more stretches, bc desk job means my back is hurting a lot TwT in the past my jobs have been constantly on my feet type of labor jobs so this is weird for me to just. yeah. sitting so much!! so even if my dr said I can't lift anything over 30 pounds and that kinda rules out the heavier working out stuff. cardio and yoga are still very Real Options

-get a vehicle. oh my god i hate asking other ppl to use theirs + I miss my van. it was so fun choosing what to stock it with + decorating it I MISS IT!!! also just kind of need that if I want to move out asjdhk

-look into therapy. self explanatory (this is less of a priority than the vehicle but still important)

-look into + maybe set up a consultation abt tattoo removals. i hate the one I got ngl it makes me sad everytime i look at it bc of who I went and got it with. this is the least important thing on the list bc its not a NEED and I need to prioritize literally everything else (esp the other ones that cost money on this list) but. like. its a thing I want to at least peep into and it would make me Happy

-debating if I want to open commissions again this year! I know I def want to try to update my portfolio (maybe an entire overhaul) and rework prices + what I offer for commissions, so I guess the last resolution is just. figure out what I want to do with that. very vague idea of just 'update stuff relating to that + my website for that. learn more programming to make it look nicer on mobile.

last years resolutions didn't ALL get accomplished, but I did get a job I don't hate that is both remote and lets me set my own schedule which I like! and I didn't release two zines like I wanted to, but I released one by myself, which I'm still happy abt! I didn't look into 3D modeling at all like I wanted to, which is like. that was never a Big One, but still. I want to dabble in it if I have time this year! not prioritizing it much tho. Big Priorities are steps towards moving out (vehicle first, more income) and web comic.

:3