#there's 600 people here i'm not tagging everyone

[ravenadottir]

tier list that nobody asked for

listen, some of these moments from season 2 live in my head rent free, might as well use them to build a tier list. (if i didn't play the season, which is half of s4, seasons 5 and 6, i'm talking about appearance and looks)

these are the tiers and explanations. normally i wouldn't even put it into context but some of these are... cut deep.

day 10 sex with your LI in the hideaway: we waited and it DID NOT disappoint. whether personality, storyline or looks, or a combination of those, it did not leave us hanging dry.

rahim solving the rubik's cube: SO OVERLOOKED by the fandom (or myself in some cases) and i want more. that's it, that's the tier.

bobby singing during brunch: just like the singing, these people can be endearing but sometimes they're just not for you. you either swear by them or doesn't give a flying fuck.

hope crying and collapsin' on noah: CRINGE, i'm honestly ignoring they ever happened but they insist like a fucking tooth ache or something.

lottie biting noah's ear: "i worship and install chaos for the fun of it". all of these are giving new york telling a random girl to choke on flavor of love JUST BECAUSE.

returning!hannah "i'm a bad girl now.": the tease is badass but the attitude is fucking annoying and insecure. fuck these girls i don't care.

lurik leaving with rocco: they deserved WAY MORE than what was given, because what was given was fucking nothing. they didn't have the time or the personality, and i grieve for these men.

mc and li having sex during nope's argument: just like mc and her li, these people could not give a shit about anything, if the villa explodes or not, they're there to vibe and unapologetically be themselves. they might be the ones lighting the match but... still.

gary talking about a chance with hannah: IT'S GIVING RED NOSE, IT'S GIVING COLORFUL HAIR, IT'S GIVING BIG SHOES. actually you're not even the clown, just the horn. SHUT THE FUCK UP.

the shirt that never was: ah, all the suffering and expectation, just to get to the end and... we were so naive, so innocent, so wide-eyed, gullible, so... hopeful. ((the ones we got at the end? yeah, the payoff was not proportional to the waiting, argue with the wall)).

lottie offering to read tea leaves: I - DON'T - CARE, I REFUSE TO SPEND GEMS OR EVEN LOOK AT MY SCREEN WHILE I VIGOROUSLY TAP THROUGH IT.

chelsea talking about the* other villa: i... we could've done without this. it just... didn't need to exist. it's not even entertaining, just plain weird and misplaced, and i lowkey hate it. fuck all these designs to be honest. and as for the twin... fuck the twin.

#litg #love island the game #litg s1 #litg s2 #litg s3 #litg s4 #litg s5 #litg s6 #litg bobby #litg lucas #litg jake #litg talia #there's 600 people here i'm not tagging everyone #queue #litg season 2

[chut-je-dors]

Now I'm curious cause of your tag. What did Swedish media say about the eurovision thing?

Oof yeah, here's a post detailing it ... here another... Basically they've absolutely flipped over the fact that Finnish public didn't give Loreen points at all (which I find absolutely hilarious) and suddenly started wielding such rhetoric as "the former eastern part of our kingdom" referring to Finland, which is???? like??? do I even need to say how Not Okay that is?

It might seem to some that the Finnish people are reacting to Sweden's (unfair) win and them being sore winners (which, points to them, I didn't know was possible!) with too much drama, but it's all tied to our history together. Finland has traditionally seen itself, and has been seen by other countries (Sweden included) as the sort of "little brother" to the more advanced, better-faring, glorious Sweden. While Sweden to my knowledge doesn't much care about what Finland gets up to (perhaps overlooking/ignoring us and our merits), Finland is always comparing itself to Sweden and trying to live up to it. It's a very common rhetoric and sort of, the atmosphere over here. We know more about Sweden than Sweden knows about us; we're constantly conscious that Sweden exists. Sweden gets talked about in international news; Finland, if mentioned, is often tied to - you guessed it - being Sweden's neighboring country.

We used to be part of Sweden for 600 years. During that time, Swedish was implemented as the language of the culture and the "civilised" whereas the finns living in the eAstErn pArT oF tHe kiNgDoM were seen as "wild" and "uncivilised" and just, generally a lesser people to the Swedish speaking population. We haven't been under Sweden's rule for some 200 years and STILL we can't seem to shake their influence on us. Swedish is still a mandatory language to learn at school (and I have many opinions on that, but that'd be another post). Finnish as a language has been disregarded for its whole existence. Our leading national thinkers and poets in the 19th century, who were the first ones to really push for the Finnish identity instead of us seeing ourselves as part of Sweden or Russia, wrote in Swedish. The first novel in Finnish was published in 1870.

So this is monumental to us, to have the whole word watching Finland and not Sweden. Finland has a lot of merits, especially considering how small a people we are (just 5,5mil). To have a song in our language, in Finnish be this popular, is something we couldn't have imagined. We as a people are humble to the extreme, so much that we might easily scorn anyone who is too successful (not a good thing!), and this is the first time in my life that I'm seeing the whole country rally behind someone like this. When we say "Our Jere" we mean it with our whole hearts. We're so so proud of him, everyone is, and for once Finnish people seem to think in unison that someone deserves all the praise and the success.

SO, to have Sweden in this UNIQUE moment of Finland raising its head and being "we're so amazing", with the rest of Europe going "yes you're so amazing!!", spew rhetoric like this, is just, unbelievable to me. Like I can't just believe that in the 21st century there are people in Sweden who hold up 200 year old thought patterns of our country. It's been shocking 'cos though there's always been rivalry, it's felt more... tongue in cheek. We "love to hate" Sweden over here. It's been "I hate Sweden (affectionate)". But now we find this unbelievably condescending and belittling attitude towards us raising its head, and we wonder, we thought we two were okay?? But have they always held these beliefs???

So there's a sense of betrayal in the air as well. And just, full on disbelief. And maybe we're starting to see that it has been like this all along, but we've decided to turn a blind eye to it? True colours shining through? Perhaps not... but yeah.

Sweden not looking good here!

(here's one more post that says the same that i did but was better at making it SHORT oops)

#eurovision #finland #sweden #käärijä #loreen #look i have nothing against loreen or individual swedish people #i don't believe most swedes would think like this! #still to have something like this in a piece of media over there is... wild #and somewhat telling? #welp #bit of a long answer but there's more to this mess than just what's happening now #it's 800 years of shared history that we understand without it needing to be said #at least i think so! #if anyone has anything to add/discuss please go ahead! #anonymous #answered #the finnish people have a forever inferior complex when it comes to sweden and now the one time the world actually sees us sweden's like #'such dumb people :( we won look at our trophy. stop celebrating the circus act' #they're just jealous we have the crazy we have the party #:) <3 i wrote this cos i'm hiding from work heheh #esc23 #suomi

[trashmouth-richie]

tagged by miss @bettyfrommars

“A wee game I thought would be fun: choose an excerpt from one of your posted fics, 600 words or less, that will make people curious for more. Share it with the title of your fic and little to no context.”

**from Open Arms: Chapter 3 - Every Now and Then I Fall Apart

tw: text alluding to addiction, forced relationships, depression, self hatred. 780 words whoops 😬

Rick had passed out next to you, his naked body slung over yours in some lame attempt of cuddling. You didn’t know how many lines you had done, or the number of shots you took, before stumbling in here.

Didn’t remember the lick of his tongue in your mouth, the feel of his hands on your curves, your was body numb from the drugs and to him. All you remember is right now, waking in a puddle of tears, the taste of blood on your lips, your nose full of it.

Peeling Rick’s limp form from you, you make for the bathroom connected to his master bedroom. Your reflection was horrific. blood dripped from your nostrils and coated your teeth, eyeliner dragged down your face like a halloween mask gone wrong. Your body, stark naked except for a purpling hickey on your collar bone, and white residue between your cleavage.

You look away in disgust, hatred for the eyes that stared back from the mirror.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to wake up like this. Having spent the better half of every night for the last seven years the same way. Reaching for his hand, watching him slip through your fingers. Voice hoarse from crying, yelling, screaming his name.

Reaching for the plush hand towel Karen kept, you plop it into the sink and turn the faucet to hot, wetting it completely.

“So I'm a stranger now huh?”

Eddie’s words from early stuck with you long after you had left. Eddie fucking Munson. Seven years…No high or amount of time could ever make you forget his face.

The pain was always there. You were only able to paint over it with each new high you could conjure. But no matter the number of brush strokes, no matter the opaqueness of the paint color, Eddie always showed through. Like a ghost in the background of a photo.

The sink was nearly overflowing before you pulled the towel covering the drain, wringing the scalding water from it as you sat on the toilet lid and draped it over your face. The heated temperature having your skin raw and burning, a welcomed kind of pain.

Seven years and here he was, waltzing back into town like he hadn’t left you in shambles. Although him being back brought forth memories you wished would stop, seeing him alive and in the flesh settled a sore in your soul.

It also dug up anger. And under the wet towel you saw red.

Answers. That’s what you needed from him. You were just a kid then, you couldn’t understand, and maybe you still didn’t want to know why. But you craved to know, your mind gnawing at your skull to make sense of why he would decide to leave.

You had adapted to your surroundings, learned how to survive. He couldn’t. He was weak and spineless, that’s what everyone had said, and after a while you believed it too.

Stronger than Eddie Munson had ever been, you kept going. Living this god forsaken life because you didn’t have a choice.

You had your own place, a cute little two bedroom apartment. One you decorated to your liking. You had a job that paid your bills. You had someone that loved…someone that took care of you in ways you didn’t know were possible.

You were different, and so was he. What did he have? Nothing. No one.

The towel dripped water onto your bare thighs, and you concentrated on that little tick rhythm until it picked up, sending water down in almost a wave.

Maybe that’s how he wanted his life to be, maybe that was why he left in the first place. Maybe you were standing in his way the whole time like a roadblock.

You didn’t realize the heave of your chest, how your breathing was uneven and shallow, choking off.

Then you heard it. The gut wrenching sobs coming from yourself.

It didn’t work anymore. Quite frankly you wondered if it ever had.

Pretending Eddie was an asshole and that you were better without him was the only way for you to deal with him leaving in ‘82.

The lies you continued to tell yourself about Eddie were falling flat. Your brain could be fooled, but the space he lived in your chest couldn’t be coerced that easily. He was inescapable, nightmares or not, you yearned for the hours when he would visit you.

In your dreams he was real. Still in Hawkins.

Your sobs turned hysteric. Lungs burning with no reprieve as you felt the same loss and emptiness that burrowed in your chest seven years ago.

Why? How could he leave without you?

#open arms series #eddie munson

[wisteria-blooms]

long hair & tattoos (bill weasley & reader) (14/15)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

CHAPTER 14: Aided by two drinks too many, you dig into Bill's heart to gauge how he feels about something you've been thinking about - matrimony and who he'd favour for it . 5.1k words. TAG LIST moved to the bottom! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged or if I've missed you.

A/N: How... did we get here already. I feel like the last chapter is going to be dialogue-heavy to tie up all the loose ends so this one was good practice. Thank you everyone for reading, and leaving a comment! Seriously makes my day to get a notif during work with a comment of someone stumbling onto this baby I've nestled since February.

"Hush, I know they said the end is near. I'm still on my tallest tiptoes, spinning in my highest heels, love, shining just for you."

CHAPTER 14: MATTERS OF MATRIMONY (A MILE AWAY)

In a room full of family, one thing rang true: Malfoys, in addition to perpetual winners and never-criers, were also functional drunks. Malfoys weren’t slobbery, embarrassing drunks, but very truthful and sentimental drunks. Phrases like “Rosie, I’m glad you chose a different designer because you looked very much like an expensive cream puff at last year’s wedding” flowed like water. Anyway, it turned out that, through lineage, you were no exception to the rule.

Your current state was punctuated by the wine that never stopped flowing the rest of the night. In fact, there were enchantments to keep your glasses full of the best wine your Uncle Theodore’s money could buy and pay the caterer. Every time the meniscus on the crystal glass dipped too low, your cup magically rose to where it should’ve been had it never touched your lips. And it was a shame it went like honey down your throat.

“Have you done the math, Bill?” You pointed to the 600-galleon bottle of Petrus on display at the centre table. Bill shook his head, so you explained. “It works out to 150 galleons per glass, 30 galleons a sip.”

“Have you just done the calculation?” he asked. “It’s impressive if you did.”

“As kids, practicing arithmetic,” you stopped and corrected yourself, “not drinking it that young, of course. Just doing the math.”

As the night progressed, things got hazier and hazier. It felt nice to finally let loose, say things unabashedly and without the muzzle that was a social filter. You were always on the lookout for Bill, who was sometimes beside you but otherwise preoccupied talking to your father or some other family members. You even congratulated Genevieve who told you she was grateful you were here. To be fair, it wasn’t you or her talking—it was the alcohol that spurred the camaraderie. You met Maxime, though his features were all blurring into one tall, blonde blob and you didn’t even remember what you’d said, but he was pleasant.

At this current point in time, the fairy lights up ahead were beginning to look like a blur, like you’d permanently crossed your eyes. You were twirling Charlotte—or was it Clara?—around to the music on the slope of land overlooking the sea. They weren’t twins, just born two years apart, but they looked very much alike. There was less people on the floor than before, and you were betting on staying here until your youngest cousins were swept by Aunt Rosamund.

“To be young again!” you exclaimed, watching your youngest cousin nimbly twirl on the floor.

“You’re only six years older than me!” Charlotte or Clara retorted with a shake of her head, her wild blonde hair flapping about.

“I pray you never reach my age,” you said. “There’s so much shit to think about and it’s bloody confusing.”

“What’s there to think about?” she questioned earnestly.

“Just wait until you reach my age,” said a voice.

You spun around and came face-to-face with a familiar chest. “Bill!” you exclaimed, a warm tingle arising in your chest, and fell towards him. He caught you by the hands. You looked up at him with a lopsided smile. “Where’ve you been?”

“Looking for you. Thought it was easier with the thinning crowds.”

“Where is everyone?” You looked around, your hand still firmly in his hand. “Draco, Astoria, mum, dad?”

“They went home.”

“Without me?” you gasped dramatically.

“They said you were having too much fun, so I was tasked to bring you back safe and sound,” Bill said. Then he raised an arm and prompted you to twirl around. “That is, unless you want to dance the rest of the night away.”

“Is it that time already?” you asked, facing him again when you’d finished spinning. “Then I think it’s best to leave before we’re the last ones here.”

“Alright,” he agreed. “There’s a carriage down the steps waiting for us.”

“Bye, sweet, dear, cousin of mine.” You embraced who you realized was Clara. She was a little more reserved of the two and asked less invasive questions.

“Bye, (Y/N),” she responded in a whisper, her hands lightly pressed on your back. “I hope it’s your wedding I go to next. I’m sure you’ll have a much better dance floor.”

“We’ll dance until the next morning,” you promised.

Then you skittered to keep up with Bill, leaving the faint chatter and last round of drinks behind you. You began descending the stone steps, leading to the shore where your carriage would be parked. It would’ve been completely dark if it weren’t for the dainty little lamps in the flowery bushes providing light. This, along with your impacted coordination, made you prone to tumbling down and face planting on the cement. Hence, you were very cautious with your steps. It was hard though, because your high heels had progressively blistered your feet throughout the night, and your heels felt like they were on fire.

Bill noticed your awkward gait and stopped on the step in front of you. “You’re going to break an ankle,” he remarked.

“My feet hurt,” you whined. “I very much abhor these shoes.” And then came the first flow of liquid courage. “I only wore them because you’re so tall.”

Bill laughed, then crouched down slightly and patted his thighs. “I’ll take you down the steps.”

Your eyes lit up. You couldn’t pass up a free ride. “Really?”

“If you broke an ankle, I’d have failed my task of getting you home safely.”

“Say no more, I’m already convinced.”

You looped your arms around his shoulders and jumped up on his back. Bill’s hands were securely holding onto the back of your thighs. He felt sturdy and infallible. You adjusted yourself to get comfortable—which included happily planting your chin on his shoulders and burying your nose in his soft hair. You accidentally let out an happy groan as you nestled in.

“Did you have a pleasant night?” you asked as he began moving.

“Of course.”

You stroked the material of his suit jacket and murmured in appraisal, “My changed man of a father actually did a fair job with you. I would’ve chosen the same thing for you.”

“I suppose a wedding’s a very special event,” Bill responded.

“Have you been to a lot of weddings?”

“Yes,” he said. “I have a lot of extended family. There’s at least four weddings a year.”

“I feel like Genevieve is going to pave the way for a slew of cousin marriages,” you said. “Claude next, then Draco, then probably Charlotte then Clara.”

“And where are you in this?” Bill asked.

“I’ll end up last. I’ll be a haggard old witch by the time a man gets on his knee for me, only because we’d both be dying and he can’t stand anymore,” you said with a self-deprecating laugh. You poked your head at Bill, nose just inches away from his cheek. “Have you ever thought of getting married?” you queried, then quickly added: “Don’t these kinds of events make you wish for it?”

Bill paused for a moment, his body stiffening and the corner of his lip tightening slightly. “I think about it more often that I’m older, but I can’t be rushed into it.”

You cocked your head. “Who’s rushing you?”

“The same person who’s rushing you.”

“Narcissa is rushing you?” you purposely misinterpreted with a snicker. “Did she sit you down and give you the talk in the middle of a busy café?”

You smiled when you heard the sweet notes of Bill’s laughter joining yours in harmony. “No, it’s Molly.”

“I can see that,” you hummed. Molly was very motherly, and her wanting to dote on her grandchildren was very in-character for her.

“Mum’s always on my back, too, heckling me to get married,” Bill said, “because my younger brothers have partners, and I’m apparently too old to be single anymore.”

“That’s not true,” you argued. “You have plenty of time. You’re a man. You’re blessed with an infinite reproductive mechanism.”

“Tell that to my mum.” Bill inhaled deeply and pitched his voice up to sound like a Howler. Fred and George got a ton of them back in school. “William Weasley!”

The shrillness of his voice stirred some critters in the trees. After thirty years alongside his mother, Bill naturally did an amazing impression of Molly. You nearly snorted before breaking into a braying laugh. It was nearly midnight but you could’ve cared less about the noise you were making.

Bill continued to flaunt his theatrical talents, limited to his voice and animated facial expressions because his hands were preoccupied supporting you on his back. “Arthur and I will be in wheelchairs by the time you have a wife, nevertheless a child! We want to be present for our grandchildren. We want to visit you and your wife at St. Mungos when it happens, not to already be patients there.”

You giggled. “At least you didn’t get the talk about your eggs shrivelling up. It’s quite the nasty thought, isn’t it?” Then, you wondered aloud, “How does your dad go about it?”

“He’s indifferent but he just gets roped in. Mum will comment about how it would be nice to have a grandchild and dad will just sit there and agree.”

You could imagine that scene perfectly. Bill, walking into the kitchen innocently, trying to fix himself some tea and a sandwich, and Molly remarking how quiet and child-less it was in the house. “Does she hound your brothers, too?”

“Not at all,” Bill responded with a sigh. “Fred could marry a Hippogriff and she would be overjoyed that he at least married someone… or something. It’s me who has to get it perfectly right.”

“It’s unjust. All the expectations seem to fall on our shoulders, doesn’t it?” you commented.

“When Fred and George dropped out of school, mum was only livid for a week before she accepted the circumstances. I don’t reckon I’d have gotten the same treatment,” he continued. “The curse of being the eldest child.”

“You’re the only one who understands, Bill,” you added. “I’m the one who takes the brunt of Draco’s crap.”

“Do you?” Bill mused. “Funny, he did mention something about that.”

“He was talking about me?” you gasped, your fingers tightening their hold on his shoulders.

“They weren’t awful things,” Bill assured.

In the silence that lapsed, you were feeling braver than usual. Alcohol had a funny way of working. You found it ironic that people referred to it as liquid courage, because liquid was easily tampered with. You preferred to think of it more like armour—heavy, study. Regardless, alcohol unlocked a trove of questions that you kept buried in the deepest confinements of your heart, because you never had the nerve to ask when you were sober.

There were real repercussions, real chances of irreversible damage, especially if you were to ask: “Weren’t you involved with someone before you came back to England?”

“For a little bit, yeah”

You frowned slightly. Bill didn’t catch this as he was focused on getting down the steps with dropping to both of you. Admittedly, you were jealous that someone out there got to experience loving Bill Weasley, got to hear him tell them ‘I love you’ back, and forming a spoken and physical connection with him. The hope of that was slipping through your fingers every hour that ticked down to tomorrow’s departure.

“Why did it end?” you prodded.

“We just weren’t right for each other. It happens.” Bill shrugged, his shoulders rising and prompting your shoulders to graze his jaw. “Ended on good terms.”

“Was it that woman at the bank?”

Bill paused in thought and turned around to look at you. “What woman?”

“The tall blonde one that you kissed on the cheeks.” You tapped him where the shadow fell from his structured cheekbone twice. “Did you fancy her?”

Bill laughed, maintaining eye contact, and your face turned redder than they’ve ever been. The invincible armour from the alcohol faltered momentarily and you felt hot shame for asking.

“No, that’s Fleur Delacour,” he explained. “She’s the global liaison for Gringotts. She’s been trying to recruit me to our sister branches across Europe.”

“Oh.” Well, you felt like an absolute fool.

“What would make you think that now, (Y/N)?” he teased.  

“You just looked close.” You quickly tried to reroute the conversation, not wanting to talk about how hopeless you felt when you thought they were together. Besides, you wanted to know less about her and more about how Bill felt about matrimony. “I bet Molly would want you to get married to someone like Fleur.”

“There’s no chance of it,” Bill deflected with a laugh.  “They’ve got to be the right person for me, not my mum. Otherwise, it’ll be Molly waiting at the altar in a suit.”

You stifled a laugh and looked up. You were blanketed by a starry sky, the moon arched so perfectly in the sky. There was no better night to get everything off your chest. And just like that, your liquid courage solidified again. “What’s the right person for you?” you asked, your heart beating like a hummingbird against Bill’s strong body.

“Are we still rehearsing?” he asked with a low chuckle. The ripples from his voice vibrated pleasantly against your own chest.

“No.” You felt your face grow hot again and you attempted to hide it in the crook of Bill’s neck. “I’m just curious.”

“It’s not complicated,” he said with a shrug.

“What’s complicated?” you asked hotly. You shook his shoulders. “You’re complicated, Bill! Answer my question, it’s not a riddle.”

“Isn’t someone demanding tonight?” he commented, voice thick with amusement.

“I have a right to know!” you countered, lightly smacking his chest. You were steadfast in your line of questioning.

Bill sputtered and cowered a little. “And exactly what right is that? Is there a written decree somewhere? Did we sign on anything? Because I’d never sign my name without reading every line of the contract and in-between them, too.”

You conceded. “Bill, I admit I have no good answer to that,” you said nonsensically, your brain too fuzzy to even try to formulate something reasonable or witty.

“A fair enough answer.” He hoisted you back up when he felt you slumping down. “I suppose a kind woman who cares about her family and mine. I told you, not complicated.” He turned his head back to look at you, the twinkling lights reflecting in his blue eyes. “Satisfied now, (Y/N)?”

You incoherently murmured a soft ‘no’, the words lost in your breath. Bill’s words were buzzing in your mind and you were trying to frantically mould yourself into his criteria. Were you kind enough? Did you care about your family enough? Did you care about his family enough? Percy’s words replayed in your mind and a bubble swelled up in throat: clearly, you didn’t care enough about them if you strung him and his family along in your selfish scheme.

You curled your fists and squeezed them until your fingernails made red crescents on your palm. You had to ask, all whilst praying he’d forget you’d asked tomorrow: “Have you met the right person?”

A few seconds of silence passed before he responded, “That’s a secret.”

“We don’t keep secrets between us,” you moaned in a half-whine. You continued without any direction. “What if someone asks?”

“I reckon we’ve thoroughly convinced everyone so there’s no need to ask anymore,” Bill reasoned. He chuckled as he descended the last step with a hop. You looked up to find a carriage in front of you, wheels flush with the edges of the white boardwalk. There was a driver leaning on the vehicle’s front door wordlessly with a cigarette in between his fingers.

You hated that Bill was right. There was no one left to convince. But if this was your initial objective, then why were you wishing there was more to be done? More clandestine meetings, more planning for a future that was now only half-fiction and half-hope, and most importantly, more time spent together.

Bill helped you up the steps to the seats. You tucked yourself in the corner while Bill made small talk with the driver, whose French accent was as thick as the thoughts in your mind. The carriage sped through the empty promenade. You remained silent though you had only a million more questions to ask Bill. Secretly, you were hoping one of them would lead him to say, ‘you’re the right person for me, (Y/N)’ and there’d be nothing left to ask of him. Instead, you reclined on the soft headrest and watched the dark waves rocking onto the cobbled shore, the sparse amount of boats in the water, and late-night stragglers speeding by you. Occasionally, your glance flittered to Bill’s hand resting on the seat beside you, wishing so badly to hold those fingers again.

When you arrived at the entrance of the villa, the driver and carriage disappeared into the thick of the night. You kicked off your shoes on the front steps and carried them up the stairs to your room. It was eerily quiet inside as everyone had gone to sleep. After you’d undressed and wiped your face of any residue in the washroom, you clambered on the bed, head pounding and limbs unsteady. Bill, as if reading your mind, went to the washroom and came back out with two glasses of water.

“Here.” Bill sat on the edge of bed beside you and held one glass to you. “Drink. It’ll make you feel better tomorrow.”

You accepted his offering and chugged the cold liquid like no tomorrow. You’d drink the entire sea here if the French Minister of Magic allowed it.

“Why doesn’t it fill up immediately like the wine did?” you complained, eyeing at the bottom of the glass when water stopped pouring down your throat. Bill let out a throaty chuckle and took your empty glass.

“You just ask, and I’ll refill it for you.”

“Even at three a.m.?” you asked.

“Anytime,” he affirmed.

He left his full glass on the nightstand for you and took the empty one in his hands. When you heard a small creak and the bed get lighter, you called out.

“Bill?”

You peered at him through half-lidded eyes at his strong back and the light from the washroom filtering past his form.

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

‘Stay,’ you wanted to plead. ‘Stay with me.’

You reached out and gestured for him to come closer to you. He obliged. Apprehensively, you wrapped your arms around him, fingers shyly grazing his back, and whispered, “Thank you, you’re—”

Bill remained quiet as you tried to get the words out, but sleep was grappling for you, its treacherous hands reaching out to pull you to slumber. You, however, didn’t want to fall asleep, not knowing there were only twelve more hours to make things right.

“So—”

Your efforts were futile; you were falling in and out of consciousness quickly.

“Good—”

The last two words died on your lips. ‘You’re so good to me’, you wanted to say. In your half-lucid state, you were sure you felt Bill rest his chin on your head, and his hands gently rubbing circles on the small of your back.

“Anytime,” you thought you heard him confirm.

Before you could ask him to repeat himself, you were sound asleep. You recently developed an uncanny habit of falling asleep in inconvenient places. You didn’t think Bill’s arms would be one of them, but were you ever glad they were.

The next morning, you’d woken up with just a slight headache and a hankering for a full, greasy English breakfast. Instead, you just stood on the balcony, letting the sun kiss your skin all over and watching the waves crash onto the shore.

“I’m going to miss it here,” you mumbled to Bill who was standing behind you with your luggage.

“You’ll be back before you know it,” he said.

“I know,” you sighed heavily and turned to face him, “but I always hate going back to life as it was.”

‘As it was meaning,’ you clarified to yourself. ‘Without you, without this.’

“(Y/N),” he called, ready to confer knowledge. “Your life is up to you. It doesn’t have be a loop if you let it.”

Whatever Bill said, it didn’t matter. In your opinion, summer always ended when the trip to France ended. In the two weeks you were gone, the weather in England had either taken a downward dip in temperature, or it was just unimpressive compared to the French Riviera. The English weather was a parody of itself; it boasted grey skies and looming end-of-summer thunder today just as a private welcome-back party for you. Instead of turquoise beaches and palm trees, you only had rotting and overflowing gutters and thinning trees in the parks to look forward to.

You stopped briefly to say goodbye to your family at Malfoy Manor. You and Bill left right after, supposedly going home to the penthouse together. You walked mainly in silence. Every second that passed was tortuous, because you knew you were counting down to the end of everything. Last night, you had twelve hours, now you only had twelve minutes. Eventually, you arrived at the intersection between Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley. You treaded down the slope towards the bustling shopping street and continued walking until you were at the entrance of the flat. There, Bill laid your suitcase by the swinging doors and kept his own in his hands.  

“Thank you,” you said, referring to the luggage. “And for coming with me.”

“My pleasure, (Y/N),” he responded. “Thank you for having me. The French Riviera is indeed as beautiful as the books say it is.”

Any other words were lodged in your throat, so you waited.

A large drop of rain splattered on your face, the start of more precipitation to come.

You waited.

The amassed rain poured down the sewer like the last shred of hope you held onto, spiralling into darkness, like a buoy pulling on your heart.

You waited.

Finally, Bill spoke. He held up a hand, his main and middle finger slightly bent. “I’ll see you around.”

You’d be lying if you said that was what you wanted to hear.

With that, he apparated away.

You stared at the spot where Bill stood and at the imprint he made with his loafers in the grass. Like the hot, summer days, he’d disappeared as fast as he’d came, leaving the last few months nothing more than a memory and a canyon of deep regret that you would’ve made more out of it—slept in less, stayed up later. Should you be glad you never admitted your feelings to Bill? Because his abrupt goodbye wasn’t conducive to him asking you to rekindle where you’d left off.

Dejected, you let out a long sigh and picked up your suitcase. You unlocked the door to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and lugged your stuff back upstairs to your dusty sliver of a room.

As if you needed anymore reminders besides the weather that the summer was over, the joke shop received a new wave of customers: young wizards and their parents perusing Diagon Alley on their annual back-to-school trip. Work was equally mundane and quiet, and you would slump on your office desk, quill in hand, crossing off all the days you’d gone without talking to Bill.

August 23th: I guess we said goodbye in Diagon Alley, so that counts as something.

August 24: He’s probably unpacking.

August 25th: It takes a day or two to settle in.

August 26th: Nothing.

August 27th: He could be catching up with work. 

August 28th: I sneezed twice today, so maybe he’s thinking about me.

August 29th: Nothing.

On Saturday, you stayed at home, battling your own thoughts from the comfort of your couch. The sun was out for a last hurrah and it was beautiful outside, but you just wanted to take refuge at home.

“(Y/N)?”

George crouched on the floor and waved his fingers in front of your face. Your eyes were still focussed on the radio metres in the background, your magazine hanging precariously from your fingers.

“(Y/N)?” he tried again. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes, George?” You finally acknowledged him by slapping your magazine on the leather couch.

“Firstly, since when were you interested in Flourish and Blott’s quill catalogue?” He stared at the discarded magazine on the couch. “Secondly, what happened in France?”

“Nothing,” you responded a little more maliciously than you would’ve liked. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I got an O—for outstanding, if you remember—in human empathy back in school and I just know you’re not as chipper as you were before you left,” he responded matter-of-factly. “Did something happen there?”

“No,” you sighed, “I just…” You trailed off and crinkled your eyebrows, trying to figure out what you missed. Maybe it was seasonal depression, and you were muddling Bill with the tropical weather in Nice. It was definitely easier to not say anything and figure it out yourself. “George, would you like to come to the beach with me?”

“Sure?” he responded quizzically. “Since when did you go to the beach in England? Who are you?”

When he noticed you glowering at him, he shut up. “Prime time for it right now,” he said instead. “I’ll get my stuff.”

You wanted to go to the beach to feel a spark, to regain what you lost when you came home. You prayed that Bill was just a supporting act in the play that were your melancholy feelings.

After a short ride on the tram, you hopped off right at the entrance and walked onto the lukewarm sand with George, approaching the water from the west. The sun in England was so weak compared to the brilliant rays you soaked up in Nice. There were bodies of young females splayed out on the sand, but you would bet your life savings they’d never tan as easily as you did. Your mouth tightened when twigs and seaweed washed up on the green shore.

“Well?” George asked, staring at the water that creeped towards his feet. “Did you want to swim or something?”

“I’m not sure.” You experimentally dipped a finger in. The water felt slimy and you immediately grimaced. “Not really.”

George raised an eyebrow in bewilderment. “Then why’d you come to the beach?”

“I don’t know.” You retracted your finger and lied through your teeth. “I miss being right by the water, I guess. It’s awful to have to take the tram here and have it,” you gestured out to the desolate space, “look like this.”

“You’ll go again next year,” George assured. “With me, though.”

“Why with you?”

You almost laughed at the irony of your question. When your mother propositioned you for the trip, you’d almost forgotten about asking Bill. You recalled Fred’s shocked face as he held the parchment and him asking you if you’d lost your mind. Now, all you could think of was inviting Bill and spending another August with him.

“Because,” George drew in a deep breath, almost like he didn’t want to unfurl the next words on his tongue, “Bill is going back to Egypt.”

You couldn’t control the startled look on your face. George just looked at you, oblivious that his words sent a shockwave of hurt through your heart. You needed a few moments to process this new piece of information and any semblance of a response was lost on your lips. It made no sense. Bill hadn’t mentioned Egypt at all throughout the summer, he looked ready to stay put. But again, he also hadn’t made plans with you for after the summer. You supposed you weren’t an important piece in the chessboard that was his future.  

“Is he?” you choked out, grateful that the pale waves in front of you were washing out your bleak tone. “When?”

“September first, we’re having a farewell dinner tomorrow,” George responded, hands in pockets and standing so casually, like he wasn’t clenching your poor heart with his bare fists with every sentence he spoke. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Nope.” You fiddled with your hands and a thought came to you, eliciting a bitter chuckle. “We’re not really together, so why should he tell me?”

“Fake relationship or not,” George turned to you, “you should get your goodbyes in before he leaves, yeah?”

You stared out at the sea. Your lips pulled into a pout when you realized you only had tomorrow to catch him. Tomorrow was the last day of August.

“Yeah, I will.”

Your voice was full of conviction, but your will to confront impending heartbreak was faltering fast.

After your trip, you headed back to the flat. You were quiet on the tram, your eyes flittering from the streets of the shopping alley to George’s face. You studied it and compared it tirelessly to Bill’s. George had a sturdier face, Bill’s was more chiseled and elegant. George’s eyes favoured a warmer brown shade with a light dusting of hazel specks, but bore no trace of blue like Bill’s. George’s nose was more crooked, Bill’s was straight. Most importantly, George was staying in England, and Bill was going back to Egypt.

As your eyes ran from freckle to freckle, you wondered if you were going crazy, trying to compare the two because they were different people, but you just couldn’t stop thinking about Bill.

Later that night, when Fred returned, you were in a worse state than before.

“Welcome back to civilization, (Y/N),” Fred said as he sauntered through the doors. “How was France?”

“Great.”

“Are you coming to dinner tomorrow?”

“I’ll think about it.” You shrugged, but your face flushed with embarrassment. Why would you want to show up anyway? To say goodbye to Bill and pretend that him leaving didn’t affect you at all?

“What’s there to think about?” Fred remarked, grabbing a beer from the fridge and inching closer to your face. “Bill’ll be there, and we know how much you’d want to see him after a looooong week apart.”

Guess you weren’t the only one counting down the days.

You stared at Fred’s retreating figure and felt a wave of nausea overcome you. Maybe staying at the flat wasn’t a good idea after all. Fred and George were constant reminders of Bill—sharing his blood—and were trying not to think about him. Plus, they were so nonchalant about your feelings, acting like it was just a game. And at some point it was, but now they you knew your feelings for Bill were very real, it wasn’t a game anymore. Every joke or jest later that night was a thick needle prick to your heart and you couldn’t bear to tell them the truth.

You knew you had to get away, but just where you’d run off to was the question.

>> NEXT CHAPTER

&lt;<CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST: @inpraizeof @milkiane @lovesanimals0000 @alisslahey @milfodyssey @itscheybaby @lookingthroughmirrors @stiles-argent24@aki-ham @my-current-fandom-is @salvatoremuse @nimue-lady-of-the-lake @agathne @benbarnesismybaby@bangbaang @venus-d-vinyl @lexxxtacyyy @pink-hufflepuff @unicornicopia1@itsrhyann@awesomeowlbook @bamboozledflamplant @howpeculier​ @jaix-8102 @vilentia​ @sophneedsfandoms ​@dontbesuspiciousss @sugarrush-blush@actuallyade @thatgoodolswitcharoo @kakorrhaphiphobia @cigaretttes-aftersex @pandoraneverland @theluvcafe@eternally-ineffable @winterishfallinknowledge @tygecjjd

#bill weasley x you #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley x y/n #bil weasley series

[piracytheorist]

And I was actually happy for today. Like, I was a little prepared for Damian's shit but I wasn't prepared to see that and be reminded of how I was made to be the bad guy for calling Damian a bully.

Honestly that kind of behaviour from the fandom is probably the second main reason I avoid looking into other people's blogs (and why I have the dami/anya tag blocked) right after avoiding manga spoilers. If I'm to look through someone's blog for funny and relatable sxf stuff and then stumble upon someone talking about how sweet and cute and completely blameless Damian is... yeah nope bye.

I know, I know, not everyone is like this. I'm not putting the blame on all of his fans. Though that's not easy to say when I know there's a post out there talking about how Damian never bullied Anya - like, iirc, that was the actual title or something - and it has over 600 notes. And along with this thing and being talked to like I'm the wrong one, I cannot really feel comfortable among this fandom in general. Like okay love whatever blorbo you like and ship whatever you wanna ship, that's not what I'm judging here.

But if I'm to risk being told I'm making people uncomfortable just because I use the word "bully" for a fictional character who actually exhibits bully behaviour... yeah I just need that stance really fucking away from me.

#nette speaks #personal

[sleepis4theweak]

Hiya! I’m kind of a small creator on here and trying to get my rottmnt fic an audience but no matter what I do as promo material (art, skits, rambles) nothing ever works to get more than like 2 notes max. I’m confident in my story’s quality so I’m fairly sure that’s not the issue. I was wondering if you have any advice or anything like that? Your stuff is lovely and get a lot of community engagement so I’m curious if there was anything you actively did that helped you grow! I hope this doesn’t come off as rude or desperate, I just wanted to know if I was missing something since I’m pretty new to Tumblr. Enjoy your day ^^

Don't worry! You don't come off as rude or desperate at all!! <3

But tbh... you are asking the wrong person here...

I'm going into marketing, and I spent a full school year in high school doing an independent study on social media algorithms. So I know a LOT about how to grow social media followings- specifically instagram accounts.

But I never actually studied tumblr. I used to use instagram as a platform, but knowing how the algorithm worked was too stressful for me... I'd post stuff and be like "the algorithm won't like this because blah blah blah." Eventually I was drawing for the algorithm and not for me, and so I quit because it just wasn't fun anymore...

Which is why I have very specifically not studied Tumblr's algorithm, because I don't want it to turn into the same situation as with instagram. So I don't know a ton about how to grow a following... and also I've only been on tumblr for 5 months...

THAT BEING SAID: I can walk you through my tumblr and how it's grown!

My very first post was of a meme redraw with the 2012 turtles. I think it got around 1,600 likes?

I posted a couple more things, with varying amounts of likes and such. My first comic (which I never actually completed past the first part) got a total of 7 likes within the first months of posting it. Only when I got more followers did the like amount change.

When I posted my first chapter of the Flashbacks AU, I had 33 or so followers. I think I got to like... 300 followers from that first chapter alone. From there it was just... a steady growth of followers I guess. And with followers comes more reblogs, and with more reblogs comes more followers.

I have around 1,600 followers now. Not everyone is gonna like my posts, I think I get around 20 for responded asks and 100-300 for random pieces of art. Comics get closers to 600 or so. It depends on the content.

I think there are a couple of universal things that help grow an account:

1- Making sure your content is reaching the right people. Put the right tags in. Go crazy with them in fact. If I'm posting a piece with Rise Mikey in it, Im gonna tag: Mikey, Mikey tmnt, Mikey 2018, ROTTMNT, Rise Mikey, etc etc. On instagram they are currently trying to get people to limit their use of tags, but I don't think the same thing applies here. Even tho tags don't help as much here, they are still a good tool!

2- Consistency. Idk how it works on this platform, but consistency is generally a good thing! With instagram theres an actual method to it (1 post a day= good, but the more posts you do a day the less people it shows it to), it might be worth it to look up if tumblr has something similar.

3- Have fun with it! I know this is kinda lame to say... but don't change your content for views. Just... do what you like and eventually your target audience will find you :)

4- Engage with what audience you do have! It's fun to bond with people online, and it helps that "community engagement" piece you talked about!

5-... stalk people hehe. (By which I mean: Look at what other artists post! What tags do they use, do they reblog their own posts a lot, etc etc. Also look at artists with similar followings to your own. For example, studying Cass might not be very helpful, because Cass has a large amount of followers and I'm convinced they could post a picture of a blank canvas and still get 1,000 likes hehe... BUT- I mean you could scroll down to Cass' (or other artist's) first posts and see what they were doing then! Just... observe others I suppose!)

Id love to tell you likes don’t matter, that what matters is having fun and loving what you are drawing. But also I do know how it feels to post something you are really proud of and then have no one like it- it sucks.

But just keep on going :) You'll find your people eventually I'm sure.

OH ALSO: IF ANYONE ELSE HAS ANY TIPS FEEL FREE TO REBLOG AND ADD STUFF IN!!! <3

#cass is very cool... #ANYWHO- I hope that helped? Feel free to ask any follow up questions... I'm not sure how helpful I was :/ #<3 <3 <3 #Good ask!!! #I think I'm a bit of an unusual case tho? Maybe??? #Idk a lot about tumblr... #GOOD LUCK THO!!! IM WISHING U ALL THE BEST!!! <3 #HAVE FUN WITH UR ART!!! AND YOUR COMICS! #social media can be frustrating... but it can also be fun! Try to find a way to make it fun for you :) However that works best for you <3 #and if the thing that would make it fun is getting a lot of likes... then I hope this helps :) #answered asks #AH OKAY IM DONE BYE <3 #oh last point you can also use other apps as traction apps. #i can explain that if you are interested in doing that...

[peace-for-levi]

happy 600 cece!!!

from the dissociation prompts… “Don’t touch me” and “Did I zone out?”

in canonverse❤️❤️

with levi comforting gn reader🥺

HI BBY!!!!! <3333 thanks a bunch for your request; our favourite type of fic -- dissociation !!!

warnings: heavy descriptions of dissociation, implied sensory overload, hange is a GOOD BEAN, levi doing his best lmao.

word count: 1,752

tagging: @licuadora-nasir @ackermandick @galactict3a @sckerman @notgoodforlife @maries-gallery @levi-my-beloved

--

A swift rap on the door gets Levi out of his trance. It's a quick jerking motion – much like when a shiver runs down your spine – that makes the listless motion of signing his name stop momentarily and has him blinking blearily. How many death certificates had he just signed whilst being completely on autopilot? His eyes flickered to the left where the rest of his paperwork remained; budget-related documents (no thanks to Hange's experiments), more death certificates and inventory. His mind momentarily tries to make a plan of what he'll do first and how and it gets so busy, he's forgotten about the knock on his door. 

Walls, he was tired. But what did he expect – catching up on paperwork after an expedition was mind-numbingly boring. Although, as far as expeditions go, this expedition was rather successful. So successful, cuts of meat were brought out alongside alcohol. Unfortunately – or perhaps fortunately, given his hate for crowded halls, packed with inebriated teenagers – he was stuck. 

The commotion must have died down an hour ago though, he realises, as he hears not a pin drop coming from outside his office. It’s eerily quiet, even; it has him on alert. He hasn’t even heard from you yet, and you’re normally wrapping your arms around him at this point, desperately trying to coax him to come to bed.

A second, more urgent rap on the door brings him to his feet. 

“Levi, please.” The voice calls through the wooden door. “It’s kind of urgent.”

So much for the quiet, even if it did have him on edge.

“Alright, Four Eyes, I'm coming,” he grumbled. His chair groans against the wooden floorboards and he’s pattering over to the door. He thinks in that split second that it is rare that Hange uses this concerned tone with him. Normally, they’re banging down on his doors, begging him for the use of his squad. The door creaks as it’s opened. “What do you need, Four Eyes?”

Hange is chewing on their lower lip and pointing towards the direction of the Mess Hall, and whatever urgency he picked up in their voice from outside the door has been amplified tenfold. “They, uh… It’s [F/n].”

His eyes widen and he’s sprinting. Hange is quickly running behind them. 

The Mess Hall has long since been vacated, though there is still evidence that a major celebration took place. Plates are stacked high that’ll definitely need clearing in the morning, but at least the soldiers had the common decency to clear away the bottles. Still, the sheer amount of people that must have been in here, though. All of the cheering, singing, celebrating; the clang of metal cutlery, people chewing and bringing their bottles together as they shout ‘cheers!’ and dance around. Slipping and falling. Screaming and laughing. Being so, so loud. Way too loud… So many people. 

No wonder you’d walked off somewhere. 

The breeze he was met with once he had skidded to halt outside the Mess Hall brought a sense of balance and tranquillity. He stopped to breathe and scan the area. He swept his bangs out of his face whilst relishing the crisp air. This was far nicer than inside the sweltering, sweaty Mess Hall. 

He doesn’t blame you for walking off. The only problem was did you realise you had walked off? Hange had found you outside, sitting with your legs brought to your chest so clearly not. Walking away and shutting off was your way of coping. Everyone had their own methods, be it alcohol or women, to burying themselves in their work or turning to far more illicit substances. It could have been the noise that triggered this, it could have been seeing someone there who brought up painful memories, or even being reminded that you could no longer celebrate with someone who lost their lives on yesterday’s expedition.

Whatever the case may be, your mind did the hard work for you; it was when you were feeling everything that it was so easy to slip into the enveloping warmth of numbness. It was so easy to just feel nothing.

You vaguely make out the appearance of your lover. He has to swallow down whatever he was going to say (if he was going to say anything) because the look of nothing in your eyes that normally radiate so much warmth and energy always stuns him. Before he can reel himself in, he is reaching out to you. 

“Don’t touch me.” You quickly snap, just vaguely registering his approaching hand. 

He quickly withdraws and opts to just sit on his haunches before you. In the meantime, Hange has stepped outside with a canteen of water. It’s placed next to you and Levi nods in thanks, momentarily regretting how harshly he spoke to them, before they walk away and leave you too.

You asked not to be touched, he must honour that but he needs to get through to you somehow. He edges closer slightly. But it’s hard; it aches him to see you stare so vacantly at him. 

“[F/n].” He calls out. You only blink in response, and even then, it’s probably a coincidence. Should he try again?

His voice breaks whatever barrier your brain has temporarily constructed. “Le–Levi…” 

He nods. “That’s right, I’m here.” He shuffles closer. “How long have you been out in the cold?”

Do you even comprehend what he just said? He’s still in the dark on how to handle you like this. 

Cold, did he say? Huh… you raise your hand against the myriad of stars on their black canvas. You seem to feel a breeze. 

Cold, the breeze is cold. 

Say, when did the sun even set…? 

Your brain is slowly piecing together bits of your environment like a jigsaw, but altogether in context, it makes no sense still. Everything is fragmented and looks so wrong; your vision is stretched, you can only see a few feet in front of you. The appearance of Levi is slight against your failing sight. You have to blink rapidly to focus on anything he says. 

“What…?” you call out, face blank. You’re not even looking at him. 

He shuffles closer, now leaning on his knees, hands pressed on his lap. “How long have you been out here in the cold, hmm?” he asks, a little louder. 

“Is…”

He waits patiently as you stammer, eyes watching every micromovement. He brings a hand to your shoulder – the movement is slow and steady this time – and he starts to rub your bicep up and down, and you sink into this gesture. 

“Is… what?” he tries. 

Your eyes are now welling with tears. Fuck, why is it you want to cry? 

“Is… is it happening again? Did I zone out?” you ask. 

Levi moves to cup your cheeks. He waits for resistance, but you seemed to be responding with touch now. Good. 

You’re looking at him now, though if he was being honest, you were looking through him. He just nods, candidly. “Yeah, you have. Can you stand?” Immediately, you try to jump to your feet, no longer wanting to be numb anymore; searching for feeling. You wobble and it’s as if your feet can’t brace your weight. Levi was standing with you, waiting to hold you in case you fell. “Easy, [F/n]. Easy.” 

At this point, fat tears are rolling down your cheeks. He walks you, arms holding you secure as you babble, confused. “Levi…?” 

“What is it?” he says, guiding you back to his office. That was the safest bet. Would a bath do you some good, would that bring you back? He knows that sometimes ‘sleeping it off’ was all that you could manage. Tea might be a good idea first. He doesn’t show it – he never does – but his mind is running in circles. He turns you into the direction of the corridor after you have walked through the Mess Hall. “Do you recognise this place?”

You shake your head, a pained sob bubbling up from your throat. The sense of vertigo whirls around in your head as your eyes try to focus on everything you see, seeking some semblance of familiarity. It’s all so foreign, though. Nothing looks right. Nothing looks real.

Everything looks wrong. 

Levi sighs deeply through his nose as he holds your hand, freeing his other to unlock the door to his room. 

“Okay,” he breathes, and he’s guiding you again now, this time towards the bed. He props up all his pillows and he unbuttons the top two buttons of your white shirt. His movements are hasty but still gentle. When he speis your body closing in on itself in raw, unadulterated fear, he’s holding you by the shoulders again. “Recite everything you know.”

“I don’t think I–”

“Your name is…?” and he pauses to allow you to finish the sentence. 

“[F/n] [L/n].”

He nods. “And where do you come from?”

“Where I come fr–? Oh… W-Wall Rose…” you mumble. You don’t think you can continue. You grab one of his hands on your shoulders and you squeeze hard. Levi doesn’t say or do anything apart from bite his lower lip. “I don’t like this…”

“Like what?”

“Feeling like this.”

He can only nod but as he does so, he feels his heart splinter. “I know. It’s uncomfortable, I know.” 

That’s all he can say – what else can he say? He can’t make this feeling go away, but he will stay by your side until it does? Still, as irrational as the feeling may be, it eats him up inside that there’s very little he can do except try to convince you to take a bath, or drink tea or fall asleep and then just hope you feel okay. 

“Can you… hold me?”

That, he can absolutely do.

Held against his chest and listening to his pulse, you started to fall asleep as you listed everything you saw in his room; the quenched candles on his drawers, the pile of Scout uniform patches, the clock, his cloak in the hamper. He scratches his nails across your scalp, breathing deeply. Even in your hazy state, you could feel the clouds in your head dissipate slowly. 

“Thank you, Levi.” You look up at him now; the twinkle is back in your eyes. 

He kisses your forehead in response. “Anytime.”

#cece.600 #levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi fluff #snk #aot #levi aot #aot headcanons #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #captain levi #husbando tag<3 #moots; lev #HI BABY I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS #I KINDA DIDN'T TOWARDS THE END LMAOOOOO

[thekidultlife]

For your drabble ask game can I request : exes to lovers + Jeonghan? 😄💞

Genre: Fluff Word Count: 600+ Author's Note: Writing for SVT feels like learning how to ride a bike again. Hope this makes people laugh and get their hearts hurt a bit.

. . .

News Flash #1: Yoon Jeonghan is still in love with you.

Don't act as if you didn't see him when you peeked out the window: his infuriatingly gorgeous black hair, his long limbs, the graceful way he walks, wrapped in that expensive tuxedo that he must have splurged on real quick...well, everyone saw the price tag flying with the breeze. Did he walk out of a tuxedo store without paying or what?

Everybody in this room saw your heart leap to your mouth and everyone all saw the deep breaths you're taking to calm yourself down, too. You knew this was coming but you have been in such denial up to this point. Stop forcing the bridesmaids to drape that veil on you, and don't give the makeup artist a hard time applying mascara when you're just going to cry while she's applying it anyway.

Admit it. You saw him, you are panicking because you're still in love with him, but your pride is forcing you to continue with this stupid wedding to a man you don't even love.

"I love Jaemin," you insist as you cry and twist that hideous engagement ring on your finger. "I love him and he has done so much for me, for all of us."

Are you actually confusing gratitude and love with each other? It's pride. Everyone in the room knows it's your goddamn pride.

"What is Jeonghan doing here?" your voice still quivers at his name. For goodness' sake!

"Will you continue with the wedding or not?" your mother asks, ten times more levelheaded than you are. "You still have a choice, you know."

And as if on cue, there is a knock on the door. A butler, looking confused, holds up two bouquets with notes that are as differently worded and as night and day.

"For the bride," the butler says, his voice sounding way more confused than his expression.

There you go with the deep breaths again. Your maid of honor picks up one bouquet. "How sweet of Jaemin--" she frowns when she reads the note.

Everyone in the room scoffs and rolls their eyes as your maid of honor reads, "I pick better flowers and I'm still in love with you. Come away, darling. I still love you, and I know you still love me, too. Don't make this mistake. I'll be waiting for you. Your Hannie."

News Flash #2: Yoon Jeonghan is still in love with you, you're obviously still in love with him, and he's going to crash your wedding, too.

Like the silly thing that you are, you wore your crown and veil in tears. You kicked aside Jeonghan's bouquet and you dashed out of the room, running in full bridal pomp, but to where, you seem confused about. Your bridesmaids scream your name as they follow you. You are a runaway bride, but nobody really knows where you're heading off to. Are you going to the wedding, or are you going away from the wedding?

The only thing that's clear is that you are still in love with Jeonghan, too. Which is why your head got messed up when you saw him, just thirty minutes away from getting married to Jaemin.

Everyone knows you spotted Jeonghan lounging at the lobby, which is why you raced away to the waiting wedding car, followed by a very fleet-footed and frantic Jeonghan.

"I love you, Y/N!" Jeonghan shouts as he watches you slam the car door shut. "You don't have to do this to the both of us. Come with me and let's talk!"

"Talk to my wedding ring after I get married!" you shrieked back. "Stop following me around because whatever we had is over." As the wedding car speeds away, you shout again, "I'm going to be Mrs. Shin Jaemin!"

"No, you aren't!" Jeonghan shouts as he hails a cab.

News Flash #3: Here comes the bride...and the bride's ex.

There was a collective gasp inside the cathedral as you barge in, holding up your skirts, your veil flying and your eyes blurry with tears. The priest almost dropped his glasses and Jaemin tears up as well at the sight of you.

"Ah, love," he gushes as you reach for him. "Too early for the procession to start, but it's okay if we skip to the good part now."

"We have a problem," you sob into his arms.

"We have what now, love?"

"A problem," a familiar voice says, loud and clear. The entire cathedral once more gasps as Jeonghan walks to the altar where you and Jaemin are.

"The problem, Jaemin, is that your bride-to-be, is still in love with me." Jeonghan smiles at Jaemin awkwardly. "She always has been, but she's been too afraid to tell you that. She's to afraid to anger the prince by telling him that she's in love with a pauper. She's still in love with me." Jeonghan looks straight into Jaemin's eyes. "And it would be a shame to exchange vows with someone like that, you know. Someone who is still in love with someone else."

Jaemin stiffens at Jeonghan's words, but he brushes his cheek on yours, seeking an answer. "Y/N?"

"Like I said, we have a problem, Jaemin," you reply softly. And you look up into his kind eyes, the same eyes that took you in and loved you, all the while knowing deep inside that you couldn't give back that love. "And that problem is..."

Jaemin didn't have to ask further. He removes the castles he was going to build with you from his mind.

He had always known that ending up with you was too good to be true. But a part of him is breaking down, everyone can tell, because he was so close, so close to doing that.

But he doesn't. He knows he doesn't really stand a chance with your rollercoaster love story with Jeonghan. He gently releases you from his embrace.

"Problem solved," Jaemin says bravely, his eyes watering.

Always the good guy. Which is why the good guys never win in the end. The bridesmaids, including your mother, arrive just in time as Jaemin releases you.

Jaemin's family leaves the cathedral and will not speak to you for years.

You gasp at the cold that replaced Jaemin's warmth, but you only felt that cold for a mere instant.

"Y/N?" Jeonghan's voice beckoned, an old love story as warm as day, never failing to send butterflies fluttering about in your stomach.

You come away with Jeonghan in that moment

-Leanne

#drabble #yoon jeonghan #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen jeonghan #caratwritersclub #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen x reader

[that-disabled-princess]

Top Ten vs Personal Ten

Thanks for the tag @stitchyqueer! I've seen this going around and wanted in, so I'm glad you tagged me!

Top ten

silver tongue [E, 5.5k]

tiddy donation [E, 2.2k]

Kiss It Better [T, 2.1k] - written for @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

Sexualities and Crises [T, 1.5k]

Drink Your Fucking Tea [T, 700]

All I Want for Christmas Is You [T, 2.6k]

Love of All My Lives [G, 800]

Something to suck on [E, 1.2k]

Melt, let yourself be Loved [M, 600]

Sober Enough to Kiss [T, 2.4k]

My top two fics being E-rated has been a topic of discussion between a friend and I for over a year now haha. Also--all of these fics have over 1000 hits? What?? That's insane. You guys are amazing.

Personal ten (with commentary)

I didn't go "HELL YES" to these bottom five, but I still love and adore them for different reasons!

10. En garde, Monsieur Migraine! [G, 700]

I love writing hurt/comfort, and this is one of those fics I come back to reread when I need some comfort myself.

And plus--Addams family reference! Who doesn't love the Addams family?

9. Come back like star(fish)s [M, 400] - written for @bookish-bogwitch

Hellloooo lambden! This was the first lambden fic I posted, back when Em sent me the wildest prompt I could dream of getting in my askbox. Pioneering this ship was so much fun. Thanks for indulging me, Em <3

8. silver tongue [E, 5.5k]

Okay, this one had to be on here. It contains one of my favorite scenes I have ever written, and if @confused-bi-queer says I write really good smut? I must write REALLY DAMN GOOD SMUT. I aspire to write smut like you, Lee.

7. make the yuletide gay (and horny) [E, 300]

I had to put a <500 word smut fic on here because GODDAMN? I am good at packing a lot into so few words.

6. True depths of love [T, 400]

Mind the tags if you read this.

This gets put higher than number seven because I think of this fic a lot more. I think of this fic a lot, of what could've happened that night in the forest if Simon was even a second too late. (I think most people underestimate the value of a second.)

These top five fics are the ones I went "HELL YES" to when I was going through my AO3. Let's get into them!

5. 101 ways to snag yourself a vampire: Romance edition [G, 1.2k] - written for @yeonjunenby

To me, this fic is the epitome of all things good in fanfic and headcanon. (I still cannot believe I actually got one hundred and one of these motherfuckers.) I compiled things from canon, my personal headcanons, and fics other people have written (credit given in the end notes). And out came this beautiful, funny, and heartfelt list!

4. Something to suck on [E, 1.2k]

This fic is just *chef's kiss* It's a masterpiece. A work of art. It's one of my favorite things I've written.

It's got Spadey love; it's got Simon love... what more could you want?

3. Anything, Everything [M, 200]

Poetry. Ah, poetry, my old friend. If you've ever heard me talk about this fic, you knew this one was coming.

This by far is not my most popular fic, but I truly appreciate the people who have read it and left comments. This fic has a piece of my heart.

2. Who we're supposed to be [T, 2k]

It was close between third and second! But this one squeaked ahead because...

I wrote this fic just a couple weeks ago, but it's already one of my favorite fics I've ever written. Aro characters speak to my soul, and I love writing and reading about them. And Baz has chronic pain in this!

1. Mark of the Beast [E, 1.5k]

"But, Jas, why isn't your top favorite fic snowbaz?" If you're asking this--are you serious. Were you there when I created this beautiful, cursed ship. Were you there when I wrote the first fic. Were you there when @otherpeoplesheartachept-2 and Em and @ic3-que3n joined the chaos (I will forever love you guys for this).

Mark of the Beast is the fic that began Lambden. (And this is honestly one of my proudest fandom moments xD) This fic, that writing, those details--I truly think this is one of the best things I've ever written.

I tag everyone I tagged above and @bazzybelle @artsyunderstudy @dragoneggos @martsonmars @tea-brigade @palimpsessed @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @fatalfangirl @johnwgrey @technetiumai if you want in 💖💖

#my writing #lambden

[xscape]

Hi! 👋

Welcome to my blog, I use this post to let you all know what l'm doing and how I like to do stuff.

See also: My Latest Personal Update (29th December 2022)

Hit 'keep reading' for more info about me and my blog.

Have a great day everyone 😀

Me and my blog.

I'm only just starting this so it's going to be added to quite frequently as and when I get chance.

Me:

British (English) East Midlands.

Straight Male.

Non religious.

Open minded and tolerant of others. Not much offends me.

Probably older than you.

Coffee addict and cat lover. Both feature a lot on this blog.

Wide range of music tastes but mostly trance, dancehall reggae, UK garage, grime and old skool hiphop.

I work in the mobile telecommunications industry and no... lmao 5G did not cause covid-19!

Politics: I very rarely get involved in political discourse. I vote for Liberal Democrats here in the UK.

My Blog.

This blog showcases my love of a wide range of photography, art, literature and humour. I only post material that I believe reflects all that is good and positive about the world.

There are currently 170 000+ posts to browse! Most are tagged so please use the search, I'm sure you'll find just about everything here!

I don't post images of people smoking... it's fucking disgusting!

I don't post images of guns, knives and other weaponry, (with the exception of artistic antiques) Weapons just ain't cool and shouldn't be glamourised fam.

I usually queue everything that I post and run it 24hrs a day. I don't like it when others flood my dash so I won't do that to you.

Until the big change in 2018, I did post NSFW but I made a massive effort to remove posts that are now no longer allowed. Believe me it took weeks to go through everything. Since Dec 2018 I've any not reblogged any 'female presenting nipple' posts. I do occasionally post tasteful implied nude images that comply with guidelines.

I prefer to reblog posts that credit the original creator. Posts that state via Pinterest, weheartit etc. are not imo valid sources.

If I see a post that I like that has had credits removed or additional material added that I do not want on my blog (self-promotion, inappropriate comments etc.) I will often go out of my way to reblog from the original source.

I like to find and reblog from the many original photographers on Tumblr.

I love hunting through archives and regularly reblog from blogs that I don't follow, including many blogs that are no longer active. There's amazing stuff in them archives and I believe it's worth bringing back into circulation.

I upload content as well. These are my edits of other people's work, I always credit the original creator and use material that is in the public domain.

Do I follow back?

I always check my notes and if i see a name regularly appearing I'll very often follow back as and when I get chance to check you out.

I follow a diverse range of blogs but this does not necessarily mean I share everything in common. Eg, I'm a straight male but many people I follow are not, I'm following people who make religious and or political statements but I do not necessarily share that point of view.

I am unlikely to follow back if your blog contains large numbers of uploads that are uncredited or are obvious copies from another Tumblr blog, has no or very little content, a large amount of nsfw, makes lots of posts written in a language I do not understand or has very little other material that interests me.

Although I believe in everyone having the right to an opinion, I will also not follow or will unfollow if your blog gives out negative vibes or if you are in my eyes a 'hater'. Eg, you regularly post things that are racist, homophobic, sexist etc.

Have I unfollowed you?

A while ago I sorted through the blogs I was following and removed about 600 blogs that had not made any posts in the last 6 months.

I also unfollowed a number of blogs that still post lots of NSFW. Sorry, I still like naked women but I won't reblog it anymore.

Do I block people?

Not had any reason to yet. If I don't like what's on your blog i simply won't follow you. I Don't care if you have an empty blog, unlike others I don't see that as a valid reason to block you.

#xscape-uploads #coffee #cats #xscape-personal #my photography #spring

[statementlou]

Feel free to skip no pressure! Top 10 fics or fics which you can reread and still have the same fun as reading the first time.

oh man... I love fic and read a lot of it but rarely do rec stuff cause my faves are like... everyone's faves?? who needs me to hype the same fandom classics right? But I absolutely appreciate you for this very good idea of something to do sooo... here some are! Maybe a lot are well known but I HAVE reread these SO MUCH- and once you get past the best known ones I think there are some people might not know? And many worth a reread!

1) listen they're popular for a reason okay! sorry I'm basic

Escapade by dolce_piccante 146k yeah yeah let's just get it out of the way I can't help it it IS my favorite

Make Your Words A Weapon and Symphony Hall (and all the rest dammit) by Helloamhere

you came into my life by disgruntledkittenface 57k

For Reasons Wretched and Divine by indiaalphawhiskey, 94k

Three French Hems by 100percentsassy and gloria_andrews 20k (and also Be My Little Good Luck Charm by 100percentsassy 35k, the first half is just SO FUNNY)

got the sunshine on my shoulders by hattalove 124k

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry 137k

idk which zarah5 fic but like... all of them?

and when I tell you I've reread more of these kingsofeverything fics than not... that's a lot of words! and I just love allwaswell16 as well, and... oh dang. you know what. And a lot of people. This is why I don't do recs. I'm sorry I can't list everyone maybe this was a mistake D:

2) maybe less well known? maybe just shorter idk

burn this flame by rainbowninja167 14k thinking about how much I love this little guy motivated me to actually make this

down in atlantis by polka_stripes, 9k

Laundry Room by beautlouis, 10k

O' Christmas Tree by Justalittlelouislove 15k

Fiction romance 17k

One day to believe in you by mediaville 8k

truth, justice, and the gay way by hattalove 2.5k

tissue-thin lies by HelloAmHere 5.5k

3) okay well these are more recent at least??

Treat You Like A Gentleman by justanothershadeofblue (zjofierose) 12k the most recent!!

Just Your Jinx by larryatendoftheday 10k

Single Bells Ring by nonsensedarling 16k

Eat Your Vegetables by bananaheathen 9k

somewhere in between lightning by jassy117, nauticalleeds, shiningdistractionwrites 100k

Meet-Woof by littleroverlouis 600

Ain't That A Kick In The Head! by keysmashlesbian, wreckingtomlinson (karasunonolibero) 22k

there's always another option 6k will this one get me in trouble? it's just really good okay! I mean, read the tags on everything don't read stuff that will upset you in general for all of them

ANYWAY my real fic rec list is my bookmarks basically... have at it! I mean I can't believe all the really really good authors that aren't even on here, go look at my like 13 pages of recs and you'll see why....

also you can pretty much assume 'and the rest of their fics too' about most of these people

#fic recs #what the hell its just self indulgent anyway- but plus there are some new people around #maybe they haven't read the classics! #these are all m/m larry #I like what I like you know #they don't reflect how much I like abo oddly hm #but a very high percentage are ones that are very funny so thats fun #I already regret this its stressful I can't include everything no one read this

[whumpster-fire]

A Curated Selection of Tweets from Dread Lord K'thyzyxathrax The Soul Flayer's account @KthyzyxathraXXX

Dread Lord K'thyzyxathrax the Soul Flayer is an evil overlord, accomplished lich king, and one of the most dangerous necromancers in the world. He is also terrible at using Twitter. These are some of his recent misadventures.

CW for dark humor, satire, genocide references, animal death,

The Sans Undertale Incident

I fucking hate all you people trying to "destigmatize" skeletons but especially Toby Fox. People dont even think a walking skeleton is scary anymore. Fuck off its a dead guy walking around with no muscles or tendons. This is an abomination against Gods and nature.

~~

I'm trying to strike terror into the populace here and you are making my job way harder. I'm not saying challenge doesnt breed innovation, wait til you see the shit I have in my dungeon rn, just sayin if I hear one more Sans Undertale joke some of you are gonna have a bad time

~~

Curator's note: replies omitted but you can imagine what they were like

Motherfucker. He says that? How the fuck was I supposed to know, I don't play your stupid preschooler video game about being nice to people.

~~

Shut up all of you. I am not your funny video game skeleton teenager. Power Word: BLOCKED

~~

The next motherfucker who remixes my ominous entrance music with Megalovania will be slowly flayed alive over a hundred year period, and also sued for copyright infringement.

The Mortuary Supply Drama

Since Charnel Chuck's Mortuary Supply Co. has refused to lift my "lifetime ban" on the grounds that they only approve of necromancy for "peaceful purposes" and with the "consent" of those whose remains are being used and have deleted my 1 star Yelp reviews (1/3)

(2/3) I have no choice but to take my grievance to Twitter. Your "code of ethics" is completely discriminatory against my desire to use undead to murder people. Go fuck yourselves. Your business is shit and even if you lift my ban I will never patronize your establishment (2/3)

(3/3) again after the way I have been treated. Your customer service is appalling. And another thing, any "lifetime" ban on me should have expired like a thousand years ago so double fuck you. @CharnelChucks www.CharnelChucksMortuary.com follower horde ratio them. Get their asses

Curator's Note: A followup tweet also posted the address of the business in question. This has not been reproduced due to our policy against doxxing, although it is available on their website.

(4/4) fuck I didn't add enough parts. Your products are also shoddy and overpriced and your storefront is inappropriately brightly lit for your industry. I hope your vampire customers sue you for using fluorescent lights.

(5/4) @CharnelChucks unblock me you fucking cowards. I saw that fucking statement you made disavowing all association with me, and you have no room to talk shit. You still sell products over Amazon.com after the scandal over them staffing their warehouses with (5/4)

(6/4) reanimated corpses of employees who said the word "Union" on the messenger app. Y'all can't take a stand for "respecting wishes of the deceased" and "ethical necromancy" while picking and choosing which evil overlords you work with. Also you refused to honor (6/4)

(7/4) your buy-2-get-1-free sale on crematory urns on my order of 600 urns. There was nothing on your sign about a 3-urn maximum. You assholes owe me $79,999.76. I'm opening my grimoire right now and looking up Power Word: Go Fuck Yourself

The Washington Monument Restoration

To everyone tagging me while they watched the evening news last night:

1: I didn't do it, that was my friend @CardinalCarnage

2: I wish I'd thought of it first, that was fucking hilarious, and I'm impressed with him for getting two 50' solid marble orbs onto the National Mall

~~

3: The Washington Monument was supposed to have balls and a glans in the original plans, but the confederates got custody of the balls in the civil war and at the time an aluminum cap of that size was too expensive so it was downsized.

~~

So actually it's a restoration not a defacement.

4: If you want to see what defacing a monument looks like it wait 'til you see Mt Rushmore

~~

I didnt fucking do anything to Mt Rushmore you idiots, they literally carved it into a sacred mountain just to be dicks to Native Americans. Fucking mortals. But hey thanks for the idea

~~

As an evil overlord I think carving your face into the monument of a people you conquered and oppressed is a pretty swag move but doing dead guys' faces instead of your own is just sad.

~~

I was thinking about re-carving all the major statues into my own face when I take over America but since I'm skeletal people will probably just think it's the same guys except accurately depicting how they look now since they're dead. But then again thats also a power move so still considering it

~~

Retweeted from @CardinalCarnage:

No, I only did the Monument, @KthyzyxathraXXX deserves full credit for filling the Reflecting Pool with blood. Nice job bro, my cultists think it's really cool and so do the boys in Hell

Thanks. Turns out it takes a lot of people to fill that with blood. Really wish there was more of it per body, had to keep healing the sacrifices because I didn't bring enough.

Vulture Culture, The Migratory Bird Treaty Act, and Cincinnati

Really loving the Vulture Culture pinterest boards for inspiration when making new unholy abominations. Newbie necromancers take note: don't limit yourself to using human remains, you will stifle your creativity.

~~

Been making so many "pets" lately I'm actually running out of space, so I'm adopting some of them out. I made this little fella from roadkill on I-64. He's free to a good home. I am not responsible for odor or leakage of putrefying bodily fluids onto your carpet.

~~

Replying to U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service:

Yes those are crow skulls. Nicely spotted!

~~

Replying to U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service:

I didn't sign any goddamn migratory bird treaty.

~~

Replying to U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service:

Fine, I removed and destroyed all the bird parts. JFC tell your followers to cool their jets. I cant believe I found a government body more annoying than the IRS

~~

Tweet made at the US Fish and Wildlife Service

Come get your game wardens. Sorry not sorry but they wandered into my labyrinth of terror and fell in a spike pit. You have 1 week to recover their bodies or I'm using them.

~~

Replying to OSHA:

Don't you fucking start. It's a dungeon it's supposed to be full of deadly booby traps. If you tell me I'm supposed to have railings on a spike pit I installed with the express purpose of people falling in it and dying you'll be first to go when I conquer this wretched land

~~

Replying to OSHA:

No I'm not fucking removing them. Shove a traffic cone up your asses. No weight that's the DOT's thing. What do you even do again?

~~

Really disappointed in the lack of adoption offers. How can you resist a face like this? Yeah the flesh is peeling off. I think the kids today call that Skrungly.

~~

Man this hobby is really addictive. Fuck I'm supposed to be raising armies and pillaging cities but I just spent the last 4 hours sewing a dozen raccoon arms to a dead coyote's neck.

~~

NVM I gave it a petrifying bite and a chain reanimation spell so killing two birds with one stone. Might also transmit rabies. Oh this is gonna be FUN. USFWS don't @ me because I said "killing two birds"

~~

I meant P U T R E F Y I N G bite. Fucking autocorrect. Petrifying bite and chain reanimation would be useless.

~~

Check this out. This buck's antlers carry a whole rack of Multiple Indepently Maneuvering Possums.

~~

Really Autocorrect? You correct Petrifying but let Indepently slide? Whatever. Anyway got a pretty good army going after all. Those possums are MEAN. City of Cincinnati pray to your impotent Gods because I'm coming for you. That'll teach you to lose the superbowl.

~~

Yeah, yeah, I only got as far as Covington and Newport. Fuck off, I know most of you have never invaded a metropolitan area. This was easier in medieval times when infrastructure wasn't so car dependent. 40k casualties is still a productive weekend

~~

I can cross running water just fine. I stopped south of the river on purpose because seeing the other side reminded me of how much Ohio sucks so I decided I don't want it.

~~

Okay fine. I swore a blood oath to never set foot in Ohio again after losing a hundred bucks on the superbowl this February. Exact wording was "until an Ohio team wins a Major League Sports championship" so in practice never.

~~

Catapulting diseased corpses across the river is fair game. Have fun with that.

~~

@CardinalCarnage appreciate the offer but seriously don't worry about it, that city sucks anyway. Just gonna let it go, pretty sure making "Ohio" no longer exist as a political entity cancels the oath anyway so shouldn't be too long even if their teams keep sucking ass

#Dread Lord K'Thyzyxathrax the Soul Flayer #my writing #epistolary fiction #twitter #humor #dark humor

[crypticcodexcreations]

Incorrect Quotes Game!

@inkspellangel was kind enough to tag me in probably my favorite tag game on this site! So, I hope everyone is ready for me to go nuts with the Reapers characters. Edit: Just realized I forgot to link the quotes generator! Kind of important! Here it is!

Isa: Walking in to a room Sorry I’m late… I was… doing things. Sounds of running footsteps progressively getting louder Aelius: Out of breath HE PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKIN’ STAIRS.

--

Adonis: I'm incredibly fast at math. Metis: Alright, what's 30x17? Adonis: 47 Metis: That's not even close. Adonis: But it was fast.

--

Isa: Here's some advice Aelius: I didn't ask for any Isa: Too bad. I'm stuck here with my thoughts and you're the only one who talks to me

--

Fay: Are you an ‘arr’ pirate, or a ‘yo ho ho’ pirate? Daedalus: I’m a ‘I’m not paying $600 for photoshop’ pirate.

--

Adonis, in a beach shirt: So sue me, it's October and I'd like to be on Island Time for a day! Metis: I have Spotify open right now on my computer, do you want me to blast you? Do you want me to put you on blast? Cuz I've got your history right here on the sidebar, Metis: Take it Back by Jimmy Buffet, Nautical Wheelers by Jimmy Buffet, Jolly Mon Sing by Jimmy Buffet, Steamer by Jimmy Buffet, trEAT HER LIKE A LADY BY JIMMY BUFFET, MAÑANA BY JIMMY BUFFET, WHEN SALOME PLAYS THE DRUMS BY JAMES BUFFET, HAVANA DAYDREAMIN BY JIMMY BUFFET- What the FUCK happened to you?! Adonis, laughing: I HAD A CASE OF THE MONDAYS Metis: ARE YOU HAUNTED?! ARE YOU FUCKING POSSESSED?! Metis: YOU USED TO BE MY FRIEND Adonis, cry-laughing: ᴵ ᴴᴬᴰ ᴬ ᶜᴬˢᴱ ᴼᶠ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴹᴼᴺᴰᴬʸˢ

--

Fay: Okay, truth or dare? Daedalus: Truth Fay: How many hours have you slept this week? Daedalus: Daedalus: …Dare Fay: Go to bed. Daedalus: I don’t like this game.

--

Daedalus: I slept for almost 12 hours but I might still be tired so lets go for 12 more just incase. Marcus: Daedalus, that's a coma. Daedalus: Sounds festive.

--

Regius, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him Adelaide: You did WHAT– Adonis: William Snakepeare

--

Adelaide: Aelius, keep an eye on Isa today. They're going to say something to the wrong person and get punched. Aelius: Sure, I’d love to see Isa get punched. Adelaide: Try again. Aelius, sighing: I will stop Isa from getting punched.

--

Aelius: Hey, Daedalus? Can I get some dating advice? Daedalus: Just because I’m with Fay doesn’t mean I know how I did it.

--

Adonis: You have to apologize to Emily Isa: Fine. Isa: 'Unfuck you' or whatever.

--

Jester: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon? Daedalus: I'm a knife. Fay, from across the room: He's the little spoon.

--

Aelius: Hey, it's your turn to wash dishes. Isa: I'LL WASH THE WALLS RED WITH YOUR BLOOD. Aelius: 'Kay, but before that, wash the dishes, also use soap this time?

--

Metis: Someone will die. Adonis: Of fun!

--

Isa: I am not out of control! I'm a law abiding citizen! Adonis: Really? Name one law Isa: Don't kill people? Adonis: That's on me. I set the bar too low.

--

Fay: holding a bottle Is this whiskey or perfume? Daedalus: chugs entire bottle Daedalus: It’s perfume.

tagging @blind-the-winds @andromedaexists @fearofahumanplanet and leaving an open tag!

#tag games

[moongoddessmox]

I posted 8,411 times in 2022

That's 4,593 more posts than 2021!

612 posts created (7%)

7,799 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@justarandomgirly

@bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

@possibleplatypus

@yungcrybby-anonymousbosch666

@inlovewithhisblueeyes

I tagged 1,750 of my posts in 2022

#rant - 415 posts

#mox mail - 172 posts

#bucky barnes - 152 posts

#fic recs - 147 posts

#sebastian stan - 127 posts

#i'm a hole for daddy seb - 64 posts

#mox at work - 60 posts

#fanfic - 51 posts

#plums in bucharest - 47 posts

#tag game - 38 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#did he take a break from his stylist for this outfit bc after all these looks idk if he'd put those fucking grandpap 9000s with this outfit

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

So, congrats on the 2k! ❤ as for your celebration, my mind went blank trying to think of something so for now I'm requesting a blurb about our boi bucky, honestly don't know about what but know you'll rock it anyway– surprise me 😄

Thank you bb <3

So, this is actually pretty long. I found out that I do not have the ability to write anything under 600 words, so here we are! (I might turn this into a series? Hm)

Plums in Bucharest

Warning: none

Word Count: 1,172

Pairing: Bucharest!Bucky x plus size!Reader

Summary: You run a fruit stand in Bucharest and catch the eye of a mysterious loner named Bucky.

Series Masterlist

See the full post

184 notes - Posted January 5, 2022

#4

Warning: 18+, sexual themes

Pairing: DBF!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 515

Prompt: "Don't look at me like that and then feign innocence."

Valentine's Day Blurb for @turbolisedcomet

Prompt List | 2.1k and Valentine's Celebration | Blurb Masterlist

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186 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

#3

Warning: 18+, language

Word Count: 631

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Reader

Prompt: “I’m asking because I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

Valentine's Day Blurb for @gutflorizt

Prompt List | 2.1k and Valentine's Celebration | Blurb Masterlist

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210 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

#2

Warning: 18+, fluff, Bucky being adorable

Word Count: 654

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader

Prompt: “For you, darling, I would collect every cherry blossom in Japan- no- in the world.”

Valentine’s Day Blurb for @vayollie

Prompt List | 2.1k and Valentine’s Celebration | Blurb Masterlist

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257 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Tag 9 people you want to get to know better!

Tagged by @buckyjmsbarnes ❤

Fave color: red and black

Currently reading: just fanfics!

Last song: Playing God by Paramore

Last series: Law & Order: SVU

Last movie: The 355

Sweet/Savory/Spicy: spicy!!!!!

Currently working on: Plums in Bucharest chapter 4 and rewriting my Loki fic for publishing

@writing-for-marvel @mrsdrysdale18 @notmesimpingforanothabritishlad @dimplesandcutesmiles and everyone else who wants to join!!! ❤❤❤ (sorry if y'all were already tagged)

604 notes - Posted January 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[violeblanche]

I posted 26,452 times in 2022

4,265 posts created (16%)

22,187 posts reblogged (84%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@matteodarmian

@stylesnews

@barellino

@dailytomlinson

I tagged 20,875 of my posts in 2022

Only 21% of my posts had no tags

#0 - 786 posts

#queue - 6,392 posts

#911 lone star - 2,426 posts

#harry - 2,141 posts

#inter milan - 2,064 posts

#louis - 1,858 posts

#sanremo 2022 - 667 posts

#anonymous - 600 posts

#italy nt - 582 posts

#911 lone star spoilers - 565 posts

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

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201 notes - Posted September 1, 2022

#4

247 notes - Posted March 26, 2022

#3

I don't know why I'm asking this but did Gemma or Anne cry? I can't wait to see it but have to wait til it's on prime. The closest one to me is over two hours away 😭

I don’t know about gemma but anne was full on bawling like everyone else in the theatre 😭 she and gemma hugged when the movie ended

269 notes - Posted October 21, 2022

#2

the scene when they're laying down he's only wearing underwear whilist the girl is fully clothed, it could mean him trying (since he's almost naked: "shed the past") but also not wanting to leave his old self behind and that's why they still reach for each other, the people around them, getting uncomfortably close to harry, are the obstacles he has to face "alone" once he starts his new life while leaving the past behind, OR the obstacles he had to face while trying to move on.

like the whole mv is reaching and reaching and reaching until he’s dancing and jumping and smiling and it only happens once he was able to let go completely of the past. 

ALSO just before he starts dancing he touches himself in a “is this real am i really here” way and then he opens his arms and it feels like he’s breathing again, no weight on his shoulder.

299 notes - Posted April 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

them ✨

490 notes - Posted February 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #false #@ TSO VENITEMI A PRENDERE

[officialjamesflint]

Yes I’d love to hear the elaborate thoughts, I’m very very intrigued! When I read your tags it totally made sense to me, so I just wanted to know more in case you felt like writing it up

Oh my dear anon, you have done me a grand service (given me a reason to infodump about my special perfect boys). I actually already have a 600 word document of unhinged nonsense on this very topic (in preparation for an actual scholarly discussion of my thoughts which i will write at some point in the future, probably after i finish finals hehe) so let me summarize my Thoughts!

I do have some specific text-supported reasons for headcanoning both james and thomas as autistic. Some specific things are: James' emotional dysregulation (those of you who were here for my guardian hyperfixation may recall my extended essay on my deep personal feelings on portrayals of emotional dysregulation in TV), Thomas' Hand Talking (lil mr stimmy i see you), the fact that both of them are Stubborn Bitches in SUCH an autistic way, which of course also brings in both of their commitment to their personal ideals to a fault, the list could go on forEver.

In addition to that, I think that reading their narrative through a disability lens gives it some extra depth and meaning. I connect SO much to the experience of having people who support your ideas up until you whip out the really radical wild and crazy suggestions (Let's Pardon The Pirates Because It's The Morally Right Thing To Do), which is an experience that is deeply tied to my own existence as a disabled person in academia. Obviously that happens to all marginalized people, but for me it's so deeply tied to the fact that lots of people can't get it into their brains that Some People Experience The World Differently And We Should Respect That and therefore reject "radical" suggestions for disability change because they can't fit that into their own worldview (this is a whole nother extended post...).

This is (to me) also really similar to that wonderful disabled experience of people being okay with disability until it gets Weird. Thinking here of some stims being cute and fun (aww flappy hands!) and some stims being Weird ("why the fuck are you chewing on that you're an adult!"), and also other related autistic traits (it's funny when i take you completely literally but when i have a meltdown over what you perceive as being a very small thing then I'm being immature). Again, this is less a textual thing and more this is similar to my experience, and if you read Thomas (and James!) as autistic then that puts this similar experience into a perspective of this being a pattern of rejection for being Too Weird Too Radical Not Fitting Into Our Norms.

Also getting into the James-specific things, the Hennessy plot twist where he betrays James to bitch boy Alfred rings really true to me as an ADHD/autistic queer person. I think many of us have had the experience of a mentor figure revealing that they hold beliefs that are harmful towards you as a person (the many profs I've had who have Deeply abelist ideas about how teaching should work and how teachers should present...) Of course, me experiencing (fairly traumatic, tbh) abelism in my field is significantly different from Your Entire Life Falls Apart Because Your Mentor Thinks That Your Relationship With A Man Is Disgusting, but the parallels are still there. There's also a certain amount of being surprised by a social line that you (or James) the autistic person wasn't aware of. Hennessy is going to be on board with James and Thomas' plan because he's been supportive of other things, right?? He's our ally......right?

Continuing this theme, the whole underlying narrative in the flashbacks about James' temper and how Hennessey doesn't know what he's going to do with it reminds me very much of how so many neurotypical people I know have this assumption that there are certain behaviors that everyone can control and everyone knows aren't Allowed. When I look at that through my own ADHD/autistic experience I see soo many connections to people getting frustrated with me for not being able to express my emotions in the Right Ways. I'm an adult, shouldn't I be able to not call out at the wrong time class/have a meltdown/yell/etc?? See above re: I Am So Obsessed With Characters Who Display Emotional Disregulation Characteristics.

In conclusion: I think that there are some really really delicious things to get into if you read their narrative through a Disability Lens! And that's not even getting into the intersectionality between queer and disabled marginalization. Being forced into a specific role by society and then being punished for breaking our of that mold, anyone? Anyhow thank you for coming to my TED talk I am always happy to yell about this topic due to having Gets Excited About Interests And Talks For 5 Hours Disorder <3

#tam answers #Autism Hungry Feed It People Asking Questions That Get Right Into My Specific Brain Rot #if anyone else has anything to contribute please feel free to add on!! #also if anyone has suggestions for good Disability Theory readings that might help me write my Inevitable Scholarly Analysis #PLEASE hit me up i have done so much academic queer theory work but none with disability crit etc #there's a reason my doctorate isn't an ''if'' it's a ''when''