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#and with me and I’ll always be grateful to them
le-poofe · 16 hours
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Finally~
I wanted to make a little something to say "Thank you for reading" to cap off WYS! Excuse me while I get mushy for a second-
Y’all are the reason this was able to get done. Your enthusiasm for updates and how the story unfolded really means so much to me. It was the little things that kept me motivated, even during the long hiatus. Seeing you guys pick up and point out little details sprinkled throughout the comic always made my day and gave me a sense of validation. Reactions to things like the surprise of Sans’ nightmare or Grillby’s comfort all made me super happy. And you guys gave the finale pages the sweetest reception I could ask for. l'm so grateful that you stuck around for the whole thing!
Overall, I’m very pleased with how this turned out! Interestingly, the main thing I’d want to change if given the chance is how I wrote Sans and Grillby themselves. Especially Sans’ dialogue. My characterization of them has changed quite a bit over the years (hard to tell bc I don’t draw them a lot atm). But that can’t really be helped. Just like the way that my art style changed over time. Hindsight does that stuff all the time. Nitpicking aside, I stand by the creative decisions made by 2019 Me
The funny part is that the original comic was 17 pages and I got them all done before hand so I wouldn't run into the issue of falling into a hiatus between pages!!! If y'all are interested in a bts post, I’ll try to dig up those og pages from my old computer. And maybe I'll show the even rougher epilogue draft I threw together for shits and giggles to see if I could get the page count to 69
Sansby has already been super special to me for a long time, finally getting this done and seeing the response strengthened that. I’ve had so many people find me through WYS over the years, it blows my mind. The messages from people who hold it dear really means the world! Without you guys this comic wouldn’t be what it is now. Thanks for Staying~
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literaryavenger · 2 days
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Careless
Summary: Part 2 of Thoughtful.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avengers!Reader
Warnings: My poor attempts at being funny. No use of Y/N. Fluff. Angst. Tony being kind of an asshole. Bucky's self-deprecating thoughts. Reader being dumb.
Word Count: 1K
A/N: I keep having no idea what this is, I have no endgame but I hope you enjoy!
Masterlist
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Part 1
Stark parties are a hassle. Tony always insists on the team dressing up, cocktail dresses, tuxedos and all that.
So that’s why you’re all dolled up right now, a black sparkly floor-length gown that highlights your curves perfectly with a slit that goes up your left thigh with black stilettos, your hair curled perfectly and your make-up on point thanks to Natasha and Wanda, gold hoop earrings finishing the ensemble.
The only thing that looks like it doesn’t belong on your right now are Bucky’s dog tags hanging from your neck.
Things with Bucky have been going relatively good, you’re not really dating but neither of you let a moment pass without trying to flirt with each other. You enjoy the attention he only gives you and he enjoys making you flustered.
You’ve even managed to make him blush himself a few times.
You haven’t taken his dog tags off since that morning Bucky put them on you, and that’s not gone unnoticed by the team who have had a field day teasing you about it. Just never enough to bother you and make you want to take them off.
Until now.
“Come on, they look so out of place!” Tony says while chuckling as you roll your eyes, drink in hand while you stand in the middle of the party while talking with Tony, Scott and Maria.
“Leave her alone, Stark.” Maria comes to your defense and you give her a grateful smile. All the girls think it’s adorable that you wear Bucky’s tags.
“He’s not wrong, though.” Scott chimes in. “That’s a beautiful get up, but the tags stand out, and not in a good way.”
Anyone else, you’d be creeped out, but you know Scott is in a happy relationship with Hope and he doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s more of a girlfriend at this point.
“I don’t care.” You say simply, sipping your drink. “I like them, and I’m not taking them off.”
“You haven’t taken them off in weeks.” Tony points out, a dangerous smirk starting to grow on his face. “Could it have anything to do with the particular soldier that gave them to you?”
You roll your eyes, knowing where Tony’s going with this because he’s gone there countless times now.
“It has nothing to do with Bucky, I just like them.” You say causally.
“You like him.” Tony says childishly while the other two snicker at your groan. “Maybe you even love him.”
You scoff and almost glare at Tony. “I don’t love him.”
“Then prove it.” Tony says without missing a beat. Obviously he has you exactly where he wants you. “Take them off.”
“What would that even prove?” You roll your eyes again.
“Prove to me that they don’t mean as much to you as I think they do. Take them off.” He keeps grinning at you, challenging you.
“You’re a child.” You say simply, having no intention to accept this silly challenge.
“Yes, I am.” He says and all four of you chuckle, before Tony takes it one step further. “Take them off for a week and I’ll give you ten thousand dollars.”
You give him an unimpressed look. It’s not a surprise, Tony’s known to do this kind of thing all the time. He once bet Sam twenty thousand dollars if he went streaking for at least 4 blocks around the tower.
His ‘falcon’ was on the paper the next day.
“Come on, if you’re so sure I’m wrong, why not make some money off my arrogance.” Tony says with a smirk when you narrow your eyes at him, he knows you’re considering it.
“Fine.” You say after a pause. You hesitantly take the tags off and put them on Tony’s outstretched hand. It’s only a week and it doesn’t mean anything, you tell yourself.
Unbeknownst to you, Bucky saw the whole thing from a distance. And it meant plenty to him.
He couldn’t hear what you were saying even with his enhanced hearing because you were far away and the party noise was almost deafening, but Bucky saw you clearly as you took off his tags and gave them to Tony.
To Tony.
Did they not mean as much to you as they did to him? Was this whole thing just a joke to you? Was he making a fool out of himself thinking you liked him as much as he liked you? Maybe you just liked the attention. Maybe you were fucking with him, having fun at his expense because he convinced himself you like him, because how could he even think someone like you actually likes him? Maybe you’ve been laughing behind his back while he’s been falling for yo-
“Hey, Sergeant Grumpy.” His thoughts are interrupted by your playful voice that just a minute ago was the single greatest sound that he wanted as the soundtrack of his existence for the rest of his life.
But right now, it’s making his nostrils flare with barely contained anger while he almost glares at you.
You think nothing of it, convincing yourself that maybe the party is making him anxious like it usually does. After all, Bucky doesn’t do good with strangers.
Or maybe Sam has been getting on his nerves more than usual tonight. Whatever it is, you want to make him feel better.
So you wrap your hand around the tie of his suit and pull him towards you a little, copying the move he’s now done countless times with his dog tags around your neck.
“You wanna hear something funny?” You ask playfully, wanting to tell him about the bet you just made with Tony and thinking Bucky will get a kick out of it and it’ll take his mind off of whatever has him in a bad mood.
But you get no chance to say anything more since he takes your hand away from his tie.
“Leave me alone.” He says with a harsh tone you’ve never heard him use towards anyone, let alone you. “Forever.”
That said, he walks off and out of the room in the direction of his quarters without giving you a second glance, leaving you to look after him, too dumbfounded as your mind tries to play catch-up.
What the hell just happened?
Requested Taglist: @marvelcasey05 @ordelixx @alltoounwellread @capswife @sapphirebarnes @rio-reid-whoreee @theunknownmarveluser @alltoowellread @a-very-fictional-girl
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deathblacksmoke · 3 days
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the unbearable weight of tenderness
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pairing: jolly karlsson x f!reader
cw: unprotected p in v sex, soft dom jolly, reader is a little bossy and jolls is a perfect bb angel, kind of hurt/comfort but mostly just comfort, all sweet tings
word count: 1.6K
author’s note: the first of my jolly requests for the baby boy’s birthday ❤️ this one for my dearest hedy @darksigns-exe who wanted something nice and soft and comforting. thank you @circle-with-me as always for the beta!! i hope i did it justice <3
dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥀
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It’s all been too much today — your heart hasn’t returned to its normal rate in hours and you can’t seem to stop the trembling of your hands. You don’t know how much more of it you can take, how many more of these days you can stomach.
You wait outside the door, unsure if you should go inside yet. He’s probably had a nice, relaxing day with you out of the house. He hardly gets the opportunity, and he deserves it. You don’t want to ruin his mood and bring him down with you.
But all you want is your bed and Jolly.
You imagine the welcoming sink of the mattress, the hold of your sweet boy, the weight of him on top of you as he kisses away all the bad. You just need him to fix it. 
The immediate look of concern you’re met with when you step through the door and let your bag thud to the floor does little to soothe you, but he’s at your side in a moment, holding you to his chest as you allow yourself to slump into him.
“Bad day, darling?” he asks, but he doesn’t need to. He always knows. He’s long been able to read you perfectly, sense every little shift in your moods.
“Yeah,” you whine pathetically into his chest. He places a kiss to the top of your head and you feel as his lips curl into a smile. It isn’t mean-spirited. You can tell his gears are turning and he’s thinking up a solution.
Just like always.
“Why don’t you get comfortable while I order us some dinner. Does Chinese sound good?”
All you can bring yourself to do is nod, still feeling miserable, but hopeful and comforted as he separates from you and heads into the kitchen.
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The thudding of his heartbeat beneath your ear soothes you. You’re still shaky, but at least if you can’t stop the trembling of your hands, you can place them on him.
But there’s something more you need. It’s usually just right, a lazy night in with him, but you can’t seem to settle. Even resting your full weight on him, his hands running through your hair, there’s a nagging buzz beneath your skin.
He notices — enough time spent squirming and unsettled on top of him has him fixing you with a look not quite of agitation, but a mix of impatience and pity.
“Are you doing all right, doll?” he asks you, and it’s almost teasing. You know what he needs from you before he gives you what you need, but instead you find yourself whimpering, squirming more until he stills you with a strong hand gripping your side.
“Joakim,” you whine, your eyes meeting his with a plea. “Please.”
“You have to tell me what you need,” comes his immediate response, stern and unwavering, but the edge of softness in his tone lets you know he isn’t angry with you. “I’ll give you what you need but you have to tell me what it is.”
“I just need you,” you beg, burying your face in his chest. You know he needs more from you, but it’s all so much. “Need you to get me out of my head, Jolly, please.”
You watch as the pity flickers back through his expression. There’s an undercurrent of desire, but it’s overwhelmed by something more tender as he traces a finger along your cheek.
“Do you want me to take you to bed?”
You feel as the ease floods through you, grateful he takes it easy on you just this once. You gaze up at him and nod, pleased and relieved as a grin spreads across his face.
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The anxiety slowly seeps out of you as his body weight presses you into the sheets.
The welcome sink of the mattress is nothing compared to the burn, the sizzle under your skin everywhere you’re touching him — everywhere.
“Baby,” you gasp, with hardly a grasp on what you’re asking for, but it doesn’t matter. He knows. He always knows, as kisses are trailed from your lips, to your cheek, down your neck, over your collarbones. “Jolly.”
A soft shh is pressed into the skin of your chest. You vibrate with it, still trembling but in a way that’s so very different, a pleasant disquiet inside of you as he kisses away all the bad, like you knew he would. Just like he always does.
“I always take care of you, don’t I?” he asks. A rhetorical question, but you find yourself nodding nonetheless, your skin hot and feverish as your shaking hands find purchase on his bare shoulders.
It’s always so much with him, overwhelmed completely as you’re naked in your bed and bent to his will.
It should always be this way.
The angle is awkward, cramped and a little wrong, when he slides his hand down through your folds, brushing a finger over your clit and smiling into your chest as he draws a gasp from you.
“Do you want me to get you off like this?” 
You consider it for a long moment, losing yourself in the feeling of his rough hands on you. The callouses juxtapose with his ultra-gentle touch and it dizzies you. It’s enough.
It could be enough.
He could touch you like this for hours, his full weight resting on you as he draws orgasm after orgasm from you with practiced ease, but —
“No,” you gasp, grappling with his shoulders and pulling him back up to you. His pupils are blown when his eyes meet yours. He could do this for hours, too. You can’t help but pull him down to your lips, grateful for the way he always takes such perfect care of you. “Can I have your cock?”
He’s been so good for you, so patient, so polite — focusing entirely on you rather than his aching hardness. You knew. You felt it pressed into your thigh, saw him grinding his hips into the mattress as you felt the shift of the bed beneath you.
It’s for you, too, as much as him, when you ask for it. “Please.”
He nods, out of sorts, burying his face in your neck once more. Every part of you is covered by him. He’s so affected that he doesn’t make you work for it and you’re so thankful.
It’s with one languid move, smooth and practiced, that he lifts his hips and slides himself into you. 
The stretch burns — always does for just a moment — but he’s right there to soothe you with kisses when you find yourself gasping.
“Be good for me, love,” he breathes into your open mouth, accompanied by the steady, shallow rock of his hips. It’s your favorite thing, being wholly surrounded by him, being picked apart and pieced back together.
You’re adjusted before long, lost in the slow drag of him inside you and his lips on your skin as you relax into the mattress once more, letting him take care of you.
“That’s my good girl,” he praises, nipping ever so gently at your bottom lip. Your mouth curves involuntarily into a grin. He always fixes it.
There’s a long while spent like that, his spit slick lips never parting from you, finding a home on your skin. 
Your mind shifts to the realization you could spend your whole night like this, your whole life like this, when he lifts his torso off yours.
“Hey, no,” you complain, grabbing at his sides to try to drag him back down to you. The hand that had been moving towards your center stops its descent, and he stops moving, and you feel a little bit like you want to scream. You can’t have him stop.
“You don’t want me to get you off?” he asks, and the sweet look on his face would make you soft for him, if not for your complete displeasure with the space he’s put between you.
You shake your head, dragging him back on top of you. Your hands find purchase on his lower back, fingers digging into his skin, moving his hips for him. You know you’ll leave marks with how hard you’re gripping. You can’t wait to admire the marks for the days to come, knowing you did that.
“I’ll cum like this,” you tell him. He places a smile to your lips. It’s just the right amount of pressure, of friction. When you pull your knees up, wrapping your legs around him, it’s just right. “Just stay.”
It’s so much for so long that you can’t help yourself. You throw your head back but he follows, hands in your hair moving your head forward again to meet his gaze. “Eyes on me, darling.”
It’s out of your power when you feel yourself tumbling over the edge, gaze remaining on him, just like he asked. You knew he wouldn’t be far behind and you feel him stilling inside of you, bringing his mouth to yours to quiet his gasps against your lips.
And it’s everything you needed from him.
The moments pass and you’re so content to have him stay like that, resting on you, softening inside of you. 
“How’s a bath sound? Need to get ourselves cleaned up,” he says into your neck, but not making any moves to get up. You’re not ready yet.
“Just a little while longer?” you ask — the question not even finished before you swear you feel him rest more of his weight on you, sinking further into the bed, intent to keep fixing it.
Whatever you want. Just like always.
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tags:
@concretenoah @circle-with-me @darksigns-exe @ladyveronikawrites @cookiesupplier
@bngurngheart @agravemisstake @iknownothingpeople @anameunmusical @sitkowski
@abiomens @baddestomens @collapsedglasshouses @somebodyels3 @itsafullmoon
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honeybleed · 2 days
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ARCHIVED.
I’ve had a lot of thought about this but I figured it’s time. I joined Tumblr not as somebody new because I’ve been on this app before. But as a writing blog inspired by amazing black authors who wrote for anime that I loved. I’ve given those girls their flowers and there was a real sense of community.
But I’d say the first two months of 2024 on Tumblr was the roughest. I can take accountability, I know I have not handled things the greatest. I have a pattern of fall outs and I have an abrasive personality. I have opinions that differ and I’m stubborn. That being said, the way I was treated by a lot of authors on here in the name of “kinks” and “dark content” when I merely said minors shouldn’t be involved with adult fantasies on here is and was unacceptable.
A lot of the people I disagreed with regarding that issue following Ezra and Tee either blocked me completely and probably sent around my user to their friends so I’m blocked by a LOT of authors on here because they think I’m a purist who hates dark content and it’s not a nice feeling. There’s really no point of me even being here if I’m treated like some social pariah and people want nothing to do with me. Actively attempting to alienate and push me out because I care about children welfare (yes, even fictional ones)
Lack of engagements which I know everybody experiences on here especially now fuels this too. I’m bitter, I know I write well but I notice I’m always the one trying to encourage other authors.
I don’t feel happy on here. Writing has always been my hobby but the fact I can’t even put anons on because I get a slew of slurs is not okay. What I answered differed greatly from what was truly in my inbox. I had a lot, and the humiliation of people tormenting my mutuals about me was just…yeah. Nobody can say my writing is bad or my blog is ugly. Nobody debates or argues with me. It’s straight to dehumanisation by calling me slurs. Like I’ve said before, as a child I experienced extreme racism in England so I guess slurs shouldn’t bother me.
But I guess what gets me is that everybody on here pretends to be all “uwu baby soft me and my blorbo” with the kaomojis and pastel pink but I know it’s mostly likely them. There was even a subpost regarding a post from Monica talking about the racial abuse we suffered and a majority of popular authors were laughing in the comments.
This is not about dark content. This is not about aging up because frankly i don’t care. i filtered out certain characters names n just went about my day, I spoke my peace about how I choose not to do that so do not use me as some soap box about that cos I’m not fighting battles cos people can’t do that themselves.
It’s not all negative. I love every friend I’ve made! I’m grateful for all the people who liked my work and made works I love. I’m happy I met so many people, I’ve laughed with them. In all the fall outs I’ve been in, I still have a certain degree of love for people I no longer talk to. If you want my disc just dm, I’ll still be around to read!
Deuces! I had fun!
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mrs-snape5984 · 2 days
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„I hope, I’ll always have you in my mind, so that I know to find you every time.“
„Put your head on my chest, that’s your safe place. We‘ll fall deeper in love every day. From life unto life and for always.“ („Soul Mate“ by Flora Cash)
There’s something in my current life, that came hand in hand with my disease ME/CFS…slowly creeping into my fibres…infecting my mind with sadness. It’s loneliness, that I’m talking about. Overwhelming, crushing, suffocating loneliness.
Before this cruel bitch of a disease put a stopper in my life, as I knew it from before, I haven’t been healthy, either. But neither my severe Colitis Ulcerosa, nor the other few sicknesses and disabilities had achieved to break me the way, ME/CFS broke me!
What’s left, is only a shell of myself…a sad shadow of the woman, I’ve been prior to today. Where did the intelligent, sassy, witty and caring person go to, when she disappeared so insidiously from my personality? On some days, I still get a little glimpse of her, when I’m talking to my beloved friends @vulnus-sanare, @preciousthelmadonna or my bestie Miri, who often just “enjoys” sitting beside me in my dark room…embraced by silence and darkness. These tiny jiffies, when I’m recognising my previous character…my true nature, even though it’s only for a brief time, I’m feeling a little less anxious…a little less worthless.
But sadly, these moments become more rare with each new PEM crash of my disease (PEM = Post-exertional malaise = worsening of symptoms after certain activities). It feels as if I’m fading away from life…I’m fading away from other people’s lives as well as from my own.
Since I can’t leave my dark room - and most of the time even my bed - I’m not capable of joining social gatherings anymore. It’s impossible for me to endure listening to more than one person at once, so even my three kids have to “visit” me one after the other in my chamber. There are days, when I can’t even reply to messages from others, just because screen time is killing me.
All the more, I’m grateful for these few friends, who stay with me, no matter how silent I am, because they make me feel worthier and loved. And yet, I’m afraid of not being able to give them the same amount of support in return…due to the restrictions of my cruel reality, which are confining me.
So, there are many days, which I’m spending in total gloominess and silence with nothing but solitude surrounding me. And even if I’d be capable of sending text or audio messages (since I can’t type them out properly sometimes), I often hold myself back from reaching out to these understanding friends…only because I don’t want to be a burden to them.
I commissioned the lovely artist @hannisimp for this beautiful piece of art. Lin, you gave me exactly, what I needed with this tender artwork of yours. You gave me the feeling of being less alone. Severus accompanies me for 21 years now. He’s the safe haven, the comfort blanket, which I’m clinging to so desperately! My dear, I can’t stress enough, how grateful I am for your fine art. You made the love and the trust between Severus and my - oh, so self-inserted - OC Jules become palpable. There are no words to express my gratitude, so I just stay with these: Thank you for everything, my friend! Thank you for your talent, your kindness and each of your messages. I won’t ever take these things for granted.
🖤Severus & Julia🖤
🖤Sevy & Jules🖤
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tgmsunmontue · 3 days
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More than movie magic... 19/?
Hangster AU. Explicit (eventually). Jake is a Hollywood actor and Bradley is a stunt coordinator. Jake's about to make a few self-discoveries. So is Bradley.
ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN
Chapter 16 is pretty much the only explicit chapter (so far), so you can skip it if you like, but it's not explicit by my standards, and it's very soft/tender.
NINETEEN
                “Sorry, sorry. Sorry I’m late. Jake’s mom is way more terrifying than you. Hopefully I won’t need more than one shovel talk.”
                Marcia snorts and shakes her head, gestures to where Bob is working and Bradley is grateful that he brought him along with how easily he just seems to know what needs to be done. Man deserves a bonus for this job for sure, picking up Bradley’s slack, uncharacteristic as it is. It’s not a usual situation and he knows Bob will understand that.
                “Also, Marcia, I need to warn you that Pete’s on his way. I apologize in advance for anything and everything he says.”
                “Ugh. It’s fine. Thanks for the warning though. I’ll put him to work and then refuse to put his name in the credits. Serve him right for just turning up and expecting to be welcomed.”
                “You’re the best. Thanks.”
                “Yeah yeah, now get to work and bring us back on schedule hmm?
                “Yes ma’am!” Bradley replies, tipping an imaginary hat. She scoffs and rolls her eyes, makes a shooing gesture with her hands and Bradley grins.
                “Not you too!”
                “It’s rubbing off on me!” Bradley calls back.
                “Rubbing off on something, your boy looks like he got attacked by a cheese grater and then used lemon juice as a moisturizer. You’re going to need to start shaving twice a day,” Natasha mutters, reaching out to whack him on the arm as he walks past. “Maybe consider getting rid of the caterpillar huh?”
                “I happen to like the caterpillar,” Jake interjects, and he looks a little uncertain about interrupting them but Bradley reaches for him, pulls him into a side-hug, leaves his arm around Jake’s waist and feels Jake relax against him. He thinks about Aunty Kaye saying maybe he’ll believe you and he just squeezes a little more, pokes his tongue out at Natasha’s eye roll.
                “You two are gross. Can we get on with doing what we’re meant to be doing?”
                “Sure sure…”
…            …            …
                It’s meant to be all long distance action shots today of them riding and corralling, and Natasha and Rueben are proficient riders, comfortable in their seats even if they don’t quite look born to it. That’s fine, Javy and Callie aren’t playing characters born to it like Jake is.
                “You know, your mom just gave me the most eloquent shovel talk I’ll ever receive.”
                Jake snorts.
                “She was an English and Drama teacher, what were you expecting?”
                “Well, the fact that it was also a pep talk was sort of weird…”
                “What do you mean?”
                “Well, she said she’d do the same to you if she found out if you hurt me. Physically, emotionally or mentally.”
                “What did she threaten you with?” Jake asks, because his mom is not one for violence, not even threatening it. She was always pretty creative with Jake and his siblings growing up, which is almost worse than threatened violence which will never actually eventuate. His mom always believed in only ever threatening things she was fully committed to following through on.
                “Uh. Just a disappointed look? For either of us if we screw it up on purpose?”
                Jake bursts into laughter.
                “Oh god. You don’t know her very well yet, but uh, when she says that, she really means it. It’s not just an in person look. She’ll take a photo of herself, she will then print it, and she will post it to you. She will email it to you. Post it on all her social media accounts. She’ll rent advertising space and put text saying I am disappointed in you with the photo. It’s… it’s horrifying. And I haven’t had her do that to me thankfully, but my sister, oh boy… It stops when you make it right. Or when she thinks you’ve suffered sufficiently.”
                “Well, I’m glad you have her in your corner. And I don’t need her to threaten me to do the best for you, I want to do that anyway.”
                “You a secret romantic there?”
                “No secret about it. I grew up surrounded by love stories.”
                Jake pulls a face, because while there might be plenty of love stories in Hollywood, there are also plenty of affairs and divorces. Bradley seems to pick up on his train of thought.
                “Nothing worth it is easy. I don’t scare easily. Not afraid of hard work. But the love story I was thinking of was my parents. And you have your parents. Those love stories are where we should be looking.”
                Jake blinks, throat a little tight and he nods, because yeah, that kind of love story is something he believes in.
…            …            …
                “Seresin.”
                Jake looks up, and he doesn’t recognize the person addressing him but something about the way he said his name has him straightening up and his stomach flips, because yeah, if he hadn’t known Tom Kazansky was going to be arriving today he wouldn’t have recognized him, but now that he’s looking this man is him. Older and greyer, but still recognizable if you know who you’re looking at.
                “Mr Kazansky, it’s nice to meet you,” Jake says, holding out his hand.
                There’s a brief hesitation before Tom Kazansky is shaking his hand and the man is a multiple award winning director and screen writer, albeit no longer as prolific as he was twenty or even ten years ago, but he still has a presence that expects people to listen to him when he talks. He’s a little intimidating, but not because of his reputation in Hollywood. This is Bradley’s other parental figure and he desperately wants to make a good impression.
                “And you. Pete’s told me a lot about you.”
                “Uh. Okay,” Jake says and grimaces a little, because he’d rather that he’d heard all about Jake from Bradley, but he guesses they’re new, Bradley wouldn’t have had time to talk about him to his parental figures.
                “Don’t worry, I only believe about half of what Pete tells me.”
                “How do you know what half to believe?”
                “Experience,” Kazansky says dryly and Jake bites his lip in amusement, ducks his head so it won’t be noticed. “Also Pete is prone to exaggeration. He’s likely bothering Marcia and Arnold. And Bradley. Thought I’d come and introduce myself.”
                Jake nods.
                “Bradley didn’t tell me about you until just this morning, hasn’t really had a chance to tell me anything. I know he was planning on a family dinner when we get back to LA.”
                “Yes. Pete sort of forced Bradley’s hand there. You’ll get used to it. I hope.”
                “Bradley has already warned me that Parent-Pete is different from the Professional-Pete that I know, but I’m not going to be scared off by threats or anything. Bradley’s already having to deal with that from my mom, so it seems like the bare minimum I can do.”
                “It’s not the threats I’d be worried about when it comes to Pete. And I guess I get Partner-Pete and you get Parent-in-law-Pete. Lord help us.”
                Jake thinks he’s going to like him, once he gets to know him better. Seems to have a dry sense of humor and actually… reminds him a lot of his dad.
                “I don’t know if you’re wanting to hang around the set, but if you want a quiet place to just, sit and chill, my dad is at home. He doesn’t get out much since his accident, prefers peace and quiet. You’re welcome to wait there, if you don’t want to hang around the set that is.”
                He’s aware he’s rambling a little, but by the expression on Tom Kazansky’s face he’s letting Jake do it deliberately.
                “I’d like that. Thank you.”
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lhrry · 2 years
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#I’m only starting to process everything now bc I went right back to work when I came from Spain but I just want to say#yk the trip was really really difficult for me for several different reasons piling onto each other and I was seriously considering leaving#before afhf and spent a lot of the trip crying and honestly don’t know what I would do if people like Lisa Ali and Raina weren’t there for#and with me and I’ll always be grateful to them#BUT I want to say that the festival itself was so healing like so so so healing I can’t even begin to express it#to watch louis do what he does - even before he was on stage it was so clear he was so involved with the entire concept of the festival and#and the whole thing was such a perfect vision and it was so fan oriented even with free water and vegan food and stuff#to watch the other bands perform (because there’s just nothing in this world that I love more than music and concerts)#and then watch him on stage himself was so incredible he was so so so incredible and he gave me so much joy and idk strength to keep going#and motivation and like I felt alive and myself again after quite some time and he as the person who stood there was just unbelievable and#in the context of my trip being what it was it was just ….. yeah I can’t describe it#and this in combination with the community that was there and the energy of the crowd which nobody else but louis has actually and the#fact that you really feel like you’re a part of sth it was magical#and by that I just want to say i know I complained a lot but it meant the absolute world to me to be there despite everything and louis#really is a walking beacon of light saving me again and again#Harry’s show this year probably changed the course of my life for a few reasons and it really was one of the most important moments for me#but watching louis reminded me of that and more and just yea#made me feel like myself again and I love him and I know I’m not the only one for whom the festival was so healing <3
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pl-ceh-lder · 2 months
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i got so unbelievably fucking lucky with my roommate i can’t believe it like i cant even put into words how much i love them and how grateful i am for their patience and consideration and consistency
as much i love them all, i really think if i lived with anyone else in our program the sheer stress of the work would bleed into the home and they wouldnt be as tolerant or cognizant of my peculiarities, so i think i truly am very blessed to have all that i do and i’m glad my roommate and i can grow and learn and accommodate one another together instead of letting stubbornness and different needs pull us apart
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tariah23 · 9 months
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The whale in my support 😭…
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boag · 1 year
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Not me getting nostalgic for high school at 2:37 AM even tho it was one of the worst periods of my life second only to my meth addiction era
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pinkwiitch · 11 months
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@_@
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I hate it when I’m at work and a kid is talking to me about something they’re interested in and the parents will butt in and go “sorry he’s on the spectrum”. Like bold of you to assume I’m not.
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willowfey · 6 months
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(ignore this it’s basically just a mopey diary entry that for some reason i like whispering into the void of the internet instead but i’m fine)
#i know life is rly difficult for everyone ok i know it’s not just me. and i know i have a lot of things to be grateful for — and i AM.#i am always consciously grateful every day. i am always doing everything i can to see the light in everything and everyone#& to see the meaning in darkness & to remember that not everything makes sense & life is just a collection of moments all quilted together#i know all of my feelings have been felt before and that i will get through them and that the sun will rise each day regardless#i know every single word of comfort someone else might give me bc i’ve given them all myself before.#still. i am just a girl who fell asleep on the sofa on a summer evening and woke up in the body of an adult#& everything is rly scary & tiring & frustrating and i’m sad and i want a nap and for someone else to take the reigns for a little while#even tho i know they can’t. even tho i know i’ll just keep going and enduring and living my life and trying to make it all easier#but i just. so much isn’t fair and i don’t know how to deal with unfair.#there’s such massive injustice in the world and i feel selfish for even having my own measly little problems. but i do#i just sgagshshshbsjssj#i wish i was pretty like other girls. i wish i was cool and sociable. i wish i was successful and smarter and funnier and had friends near#i wish i was rly good at an instrument or a sport. or that i had a job. or a brain that worked like other ppl’s.#i wish i lived somewhere i liked and i wish ppl liked me more and i wish i looked different#i wanna know what it’s like to feel that way. i wanna know what it’s like to be flirted with and kissed and invited out to do things#i wanna feel accomplished and satisfied. i wanna be less lonely. i wanna be less weird.#i wish i could talk to people without them giving each other that look that makes me feel like i’m the weird kid in middle school again.#i wish i didn’t feel invisible or stared at and nothing in between.#i wish i didn’t feel so isolated being 25 and never having kissed anyone#i wish i didn’t feel like an ugly weirdo freak that nobody would ever want to kiss#i wish i didn’t feel so annoying. so awkward. so different.#i know logically that what i’m feeling isn’t new. and that i’m allowed to exist. and that there aren’t any time limits for anything#i know i can get better at instruments and meet people irl one day and that things can change#fuck i still sing in public. i dress how i want. i compliment strangers even tho my hands shake after. i try to live the way i want to live#but why! can’t! i! feel! normal!#why can’t i feel accepted and wanted and stable and safe#why do i always always have to feel like the odd one out. the one at the back of the sidewalk. the one paired up with the teacher#WHY when i try so hard to follow all the rules and break all the rules and not try at all#i know the answer. bc i am autistic bc i am a girl bc i am a human in this world who is very sensitive#i know i’m not the only one in the world with such typical problems such as isolation. but i am so lonely
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ibyul · 6 months
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Accepting help is so difficult and maybe that is a lesson that I’m supposed to learn from all this but I still can’t. I feel so extremely guilty. For the past few years it feels like All I’ve been doing is accepting help from people and not being able to repay them it sucks
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chuluoyi · 5 months
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soft gojo meeting his newborn hc, pleaaasee??
࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 11:10 P.M 」
soft dad!gojo drove me to have another baby fever for the ntn time. you just have to put this idea in my head don’t you dear anon~
a part of gojo's love entries
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the thing was so tiny, precious and squishy. it fit right in his hands, so red and fragile, almost like a toy—
only it was not. it was a real, living baby. his son, partly made by his own flesh and blood—his to protect.
“hello to you, my little minion,” satoru whispered to his newborn, wonderstruck by the sight of this small but clearly alive being. his eyes glazed, his fingers delicately tracing the baby's face, body, and tiny feet. “i’m your dad, yeah?”
his own soft voice sounded foreign to him. but at this moment, as he was utterly mesmerized by the sight of little human that just came out of you, his beloved wife, he couldn’t care less.
he had always imagined how his brat would look like. he even joked with you about how he’d get his good looks—and heck, the gods did hear him and this baby in his arms was the most handsome baby he had ever seen, blessed with his white hair and softest skin, as well as the rosiest cheeks.
his only dismay was that he also inherited the bluest of eyes, the curse in his family line.
well, but that’s a problem for another day.
he settled his newborn into the hospital's nursery crib, and nudged his pudgy cheeks once again. not even half a day had passed since he was born, and gojo satoru had developed a severe cuteness aggression for his son. he swore he’d spoil him rotten, shower him love he never truly experienced from his own parents, and of course, keep him safe.
with his heart full, he left the baby as he slept, and went back to your room.
in the very same predicament as your baby, you were still fast asleep. you were visibly exhausted, your hair was a tangled mess, and there was a line of dried blood along your lips—caused by accidentally biting them too hard earlier, during your labor pains.
even in the state of disarray, satoru still thought you looked ethereal, too good for him.
he ran his fingers through your hair, smoothing them, and he regretted it when your face scrunched up and your eyes fluttered open. “…hmm? satoru?”
“hey, sweets. how are you feeling?”
“i still feel like being split into two… but yeah, i’ll manage.”
“shush, of course. you feel that way often, each time when i—”
“don’t,” you warned, glaring at him. “i just birthed your heir, gojo satoru. don’t even start.”
satoru burst into a laugh so hearty and he realized he truly loved this dynamics with you. and that he was grateful for you.
he wanted to thank you for all that you had done for him. for returning his feelings. for marrying him. for going through that pain to bring his son to the world—
and most of all, for still being here. for staying alive to live another day with him.
“i saw him just now. our baby is perfect.”
“really? i want to meet him too…”
“soon, sweetheart... when you’re a little better, i’ll take you to him.”
but he wasn’t the best with words. and so even if he were to pour his heart out, everything would be condensed into this one sentence.
you were excited at the prospect of meeting your baby, when suddenly satoru leaned in to plant a kiss on your forehead.
“i love you so damn much… you know?”
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screampied · 8 days
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edging choso. thank you for listening 👍
꒰১ cw. fem reader, cowgirl, mdni.
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“my g—god,” choso huffs out in short breathy pants, his breathing became shallow—almost as if it came with ease, a straining exhale snatches from his throat as he leans back. you’re riding him, sensually grinding your hips against him to where his droopy eyes roll way back into the depths of his cranium. “more, more, moreee,” he pleads with crimson red lips, two big hands stuck to your waist. he was so whiney, with the way you rode him until he clung onto his final breaths—how could he not moan out a whimper or two . . ?
it’s sloppy, the way your ass moves up and down against him— he’s so thick too, such length to him that the stretch just comes so easily. callused fingertips roughly dig into your skin and his head throws back the moment his tip thrashes against your most sweetest spots. you feel it and he feels it too. “choso, how’s it feel baby? feels good?”
“uh huh, uh huh,” he’d immediately nod, half lidded eyes and he looks so cute— his entire body felt hot, he can’t help but pull you into a steamy kiss. the feeling of your warm lips mashing against his was enough to make him get off, so warm. his thighs start to pang, the undersides of them tense and he knows in the back of his mind that he’s about to dump yet another load right into you. “uh,” he whines, departing away just to see the sheeny cobweb of spit leave from your lips. choso was horrible with eye contact— he’s panting heavily before he moans out that sweet familiar, “princess ‘m gonna cummm.”
but that’s right when you amp up your speed, the piston of your hips only grow quicker— he bites his tongue, feeling a twinge of arousal brew up before he’s hitting you deep. the crownhead of his cock only tickles against your clit before right when he’s about to sink into his release,
you . . . stop.
choso inhales . . then exhales, he’s confused..
a cute perplexed expression with a pout before his eyebrows curl up. “. . wha-” he croaks and his voice cracks as you just sit there. your attention suddenly aims at coating the inner part of his chin with a plethora of sweet kisses. mwah after mwah, he moans from your touch before finishing his sentence. “why’d you stop? why—why?”
“not yet, baby.” you coo, pressing a kiss near the pierced lobe of his ear.
he frowns at that, balls deep and he was so close, so so close…
he wanted to pump you full, choso’s mouth felt dry, the inside of it felt equivalent to the sahara. he’s always had a hard time being told no and he was adorable. “n-not yet?” he repeats, soft big arms wrapping around your waist. you lean into his bare chest before giggling. you were panting yourself, heave after heave leaving your lungs as you glance into his darkened irises. “but why?”
“because,” you kiss near his neck, then his chin, then finally . . his mouth. a lewd moan escapes from his throat at your touch, he loved your kisses more than anything. his dick twitches inside of you and your tender touch only drives him more crazy. warm breath wafts against his skin and he moans again, your touch was truly his worst enemy. out of all the enemies he’s been in battle with, a simple touch or kiss from you was simply choso kamo’s weakness. “because, i want you to wait a little. is that a problem?”
“oh . . !” he cutely mutters, a sheepish smile on his lips.
he gulps, finding your sudden dominance a bit hot — dark pools of aroused eyes gaze into yours before he scoots you closer against his lap. with a low soft tone, he rasps a, “g-guess not,” and he swallows the invisible lump in his throat, feeling your pussy soak him dry. “if my love wants me to wait, i’ll w-wait.”
“you’re such a good boy, ‘cho.”
“hey, don’t call me that though. please.”
you titter, peppering a kiss towards the corner of his lips.
his mouth quivers, always so weak for any amount of kisses that you give him. he’s so grateful, the warmth that you always provide him, whether it’s being inside of you or simply sharing a sweet kiss with you, you were really his kryptonite.
“i thought you liked when i praised you?”
“i— i do,” he protests, jaw tightening as you move a bit more with him still stuffed inside of you. his cock continues to pulsate and it feels so good. but being edged felt different, something surges within him as if he was most definitely on pause mode. “it’s just . . it’s embarrassing. ‘m supposed to call you good. ‘cause y’know, you’re my good girl.”
you giggle once more, wrapping your arms around him—trying to stall as much time as you could and it was working.
“but whenever you say it, it’s just cute.”
“hmph,” he pouts, a cute tint flushing towards his cheeks before he pulls you even closer. “baby,” he questions out, snapping back to lewd reality. his head throws back as he feels the same throb stir up inside of him. a thumb strums alongside your back before he pants. “can i cum now? i waited, i just wanna fill you up— please. let me cum, okay?”
another chaste kiss goes against his lips, he whines from the contact your mouth goes against his. so sweet, you’re so close to him that you can hear him swallow and he stares at you with glossy eyes, reddened lips just shuddering from your movement.
“pretty please,” you whisper. “say that ‘n you can cum.”
“. . . babyyy,” he groans, reaching to grab onto the headboard and it’s unintentionally sexy— the way his veins on his arms pulse and bulge, a whimper drags out his throat before he finally gives in. “fuck, okay okay. fuck just, pretty please. pretty please, can i finish inside you? please.”
with the way you’re straddling him— keeping his throbbing idle cock between your gummy walls, he was about to risk it all. “okay,” you comply with a soft voice, gently stroking your thumb against his neck. “you can cum, baby. don’t waste it.”
“i won’t. promise, promise.” he purrs out, both hands going towards your bare ass. he squeezes it tightly before once you give him permission, he’s floating on cloud fucking nine. “fuh—fuckk,” he breathes, melting into a puddle once you take the time to plant a kiss near the bridge of his nose where his darkened scar remained. it shot up, arose— and it was so much. his heart pounds, a rapid heart beats through his ear before finally, he finishes.
thick velvety ropes pour right into your womb— it shoots out in such a hot way that you’re spasming, you feel each spurt and you hug him tightly. “make me feel s-so good, princess,” he pants, entirely out of breath. he’s shaking underneath you, lip quivering from the way his cum slowly but surely fills you up to the brim. your pussy’s flooded, sweltering with nothing but the hefty amounts of his cum before he bites into your neck softly. “thank you, t-thank you.”
“what for, baby?” you mutter in a hushed tone, watching as he brings his head back up to look at you with sweet droopy eyes.
choso shivers, your words only making him ten times more hard as he pulses inside of you still.
“for . . for making me a messy boy,” and he swallows, eyes closing for a brief second. “fine. fine,” and your eyebrows furrow at what he means before he whimpers into your neck, gentle breath bristling against your skin. “i . . . a-admit it, ‘m your good boy,” he moans, a hand grabbing your ass for the umpteenth time before he sheepishly huffs. “can— can we do that again though? pretty please?”
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