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thebluestbluewords · 1 year

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I posted 1,832 times in 2022

116 posts created (6%)

1,716 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@sparrowmoth

@callous-and-misunderstood

@irethsune

@dizzydizney

@thebluestbluewords

I tagged 1,712 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#blue’s queue - 271 posts

#blue's queue - 250 posts

#twst - 244 posts

#not descendants - 95 posts

#my fic - 94 posts

#descendants cast - 87 posts

#princess posting - 72 posts

#fic ref - 65 posts

#descendants - 43 posts

#mal bertha - 37 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#on the opportunity to be like ‘yes clearly that’s what was going on’ and then decide to be more subtle about her power plays in the future

My Top Posts in 2022:

no thoughts head empty post notes app fic directly to tumblr (references to child abuse, bad parenting) *

“Bad dad club represent,” Mal says dully, waving one hand in something almost like a cheer. “Wooo, go team.”

“Should I leave?” Evie asks.

“Your dad’s dead,” Mal says, after a long moment during which Ben contemplates the merits of throwing himself out a window rather than walking back into any room that his father is in ever again. “I don’t think that really counts as being a shitty parent, but absent could count if you want it to.”

“My dad’s dead too.” Carlos says, standing up and pocketing his phone in one smooth motion. “C’mon Evie, we can go get snacks or something.”

“If you’re sure that you’re all going to be okay in here, and not try to burn any buildings down,” Evie says, looking at Mal, “I think that’s a good idea.”

Mal waves a gracefully scarred hand.“The bad dad club requests chips.”

“Granted.”

“Then begone from my sight, dead daddy issue gang.”

Evie leans in to press a kiss to Mal’s forehead. “Don’t cause any major incidents, okay? And have fun, I guess.”

“We won’t.”

“I might,” Jay says, from where he’s curled on the floor with his homework. “I love talking shit about my father.”

Ben’s face still feels raw. “I want to kill my dad.” he says. He’s not thinking straight. His voice is still hoarse. He can feel the air being crushed out of him. A war hero for a dad is all well and good until the villains are gone, there’s no more wars to fight, and the beast can’t put his claws away to handle the kid he’s somehow been given.

There’s a moment of shocked, dead silence, and then everyone bursts into noise all at once.

“Babe,” someone who is probably Evie says, “We don’t have to-“

“…can kill him for you if you want, not like it would be—“

“To reconsider methods?”

Mal is cackling. Loudly. She’s the easiest thread to pick out, so that’s what Ben focuses on. She’s cackling like her mother, rough and full-bodied and creepier the longer it goes on.

“That’s the spirit! I can have a spell within the week!”

54 notes - Posted March 1, 2022

D2 was a bop actually

“Ben,” Evie snaps, “Stop. Just. Stop that.”

“Why?” Ben asks, already freezing. He’s not dumb. The Isle is obviously a dangerous place to be, but he’s got some guy in a pirate hat staring at him, and the VKs are all about confronting people who stare at them in the hall at school.

The guy who’d been staring at him leers, and Evie jerks him backwards before the flash of silver in the guy’s hand can make contact.

“That’s why,” Evie whispers, both hands on his shoulders. “This isn’t a paradise. It’s the Isle. You have to blend in, or we’re not going to have enough of you to be worth taking back with us.”

The guy in the pirate hat is laughing at them, until there’s a ripping noise, and then a gurgling one, and he’s not laughing anymore. He’s on the ground, actually, and there’s something dark and wet staining his shirt. Something fresh, that is. There’s a lot of stains already on the guy’s clothes.

Jay tucks something small and shiny back into his pocket. The guy is still moving, but the way the blood is spreading makes it sort of clear that he’s not going to be moving for much longer.

Ben decides, rather abruptly, that he’s going to look at Evie and only Evie until further notice.

Evie seems to agree with this decision, if the way she’s pulling on his shoulders is any indication.

“Head down,” Evie instructs, tugging on the knit hat she gave him in the car. “Don’t look at anyone, don’t say hello, and definitely don’t try to shake hands with people. They aren’t going to just wish you a good day here.”

“Keep your hands in your pockets unless you’re stealing,” Jay adds. “And uh, maybe don’t try that either. You’re not carrying anything valuable, are you?”

Ben is smart enough to just shake his head. He’s carrying a number of valuable items, from the ring on his finger to the ID and money in his wallet, but he’s starting to get the idea that he should keep his mouth shut and his head down here, and that even talking about any valuables is the quickest way to lose them.

Not that he can’t replace the wallet, if it comes down to that.

And as long as nobody steals the fingerprints off his fingers. That would be… problematic.

Well. The court buildings could probably use an update to the fingerprint scanners anyway. And it’s not like most villains are going to escape the isle anytime soon. Especially not if Ben is here, instead of at home passing laws to open the isle for the children of the villains. Who may or may not have murdered people.

It’ll be fine.

Yeah.

“Yeah,” Carlos says, echoing the sentiment Ben is trying to repeat to himself. “and you either slouch or strut. None of your royal galavanting everywhere. Shoulders down. Look like you want to be somewhere else.”

That part should be easy. “I wish,” Ben says, trying to comply with the instructions. His shoulders feel too wide to slouch properly. “I want to be somewhere else.”

Evie reaches over and pushes his shoulders down and forward, halfway rolled, like he’s hunching over a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day. Or like he’s trying to his his laptop screen from someone. A secretive posture.

“Yeah, well,” she says, going for Ben’s hip next. “We need to get Mal, so you need to blend in long enough to get her out of here alive with us.”

Ben slouches, trying to match Evie’s posture. “Sure.”

Evie frowns. “You’re cute. Look mean.”

Ben isn’t good at looking mean. It’s one of his best features, usually. Nobody questions his intentions back home when he can just smile and tell them that he’s doing research for a school project, and them beam politely at them and start spouting facts about the history of chocolate trading in the Atlantica provinces in the 1600s until they go away and let him get on with his actual reading.

Still, it’s worth a try. Ben’s had teachers who are mean, and it’s usually something about the eyebrows.

“Like this?” he tries, scowling a bit.

Evie’s lips quirk up in something that’s almost like a smile, but meaner. The kind of smile that Audrey would give right before she made someone cry. “Sure. And never, ever smile, okay? It makes you look unhinged.”

Ben frowns at that. “Thanks.”

Evie slaps his shoulder. “No!” she exclaims. “No ‘thank you', and drop the ‘please’ too. Just… be chill.”

61 notes - Posted July 5, 2022

Mal should be allowed to kill

“You…”

“I killed my mother,” Mal gasps, looking just as shocked as the rest of the assembled crowd. “She’s really dead.”

Fairy Godmother scoops up the crushed body of the lizard, which had been quite set on escaping to freedom just moments before Mal’s attempt at capturing her under a bowl had ended rather badly. ”It would certainly seem that way.” she agrees. “It’s a funny thing, how the most powerful among us can be felled by the smallest acts of kindness, isn’t it?”

“I was trying to capture her,” Mal says, still looking sort of shocked. “I wanted to keep her in an aquarium and torment her every day until she shrunk down to nothing.”

Fairy Godmother frowns, still cradling the body of her greatest enemy in her cupped hands. “That’s not very kind of you, dear.”

“My mother has never been kind to me,” Mal says, looking a bit like she’d like to crush another one of the world’s most powerful sorceresses under a glass bowl. “The love in her heart was there because her stupid familiar is still up on the rafters, and I’m sure she caught a glimpse of him and remembered how nice it is to have a creature that’s entirely under your control. She doesn’t love me. People don’t love their favorite tools, especially not when they fail at getting you out of prison and try to betray you. You wouldn’t love a hammer if it kept turning around and hitting you instead of the nail, right? My mother valued me as a tool. She’s never once loved me, and now,” Mal turns around to face the assembled crowd of her friends, a little cluster of bright clothes and shocked faces amidst the pastel crowd of Auradon royalty and their families. “She’s never going to hurt us again!”

A murmur goes through the crowd.

“Maleficent is dead!” Mal shouts. “Long live the new king!”

This is a sentiment the crowd understands.

“Long live the king!”

“And death to my mother!” Mal adds, under the rising murmurs of a crowd who is starting to process what they’ve just seen. “May she rest in hell where she belongs.”

94 notes - Posted May 15, 2022

“I’ve never actually used a shower before!” Jay shouts. “My dad didn’t let me use the nice shit at Maleficent’s place!”

“My mom didn’t let me use the nice shit!” Mal calls back. “It’s left knob for hot water, right knob for cold.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then a creak, and the sound of rushing water.

“If you don’t condition your hair I’m going to disown you.” Evie says softly, leaning her head up against the crack in the door. “It’s—“

There’s a clunk, and then the sounds of several bottles falling off the edge of the shower.

Jay yelps. “Fuck.”

“It’s the purple bottle!” Evie chirps helpfully.

Another clatter.

“There’s two purple bottles,” Jay calls, voice slightly strangled sounding. “And they’re both fucking heavy and one of them fell on my fucking nerve point.”

“Dark purple!” Evie calls sweetly through the door. “The light purple one is for Mal, it keeps her color fresh.”

“Take that back!” Mal snaps. She does not dye her hair, and Evie knows it.

Evie sticks her tongue out at Mal. “No,” she says “I’m not lying for you anymore. We’re supposed to be learning how to blend in either the good little princes and princesses now.”

“By not lying,” Mal grumbles. “Which is what you’re doing right now, you terrible witch.”

“I would never.” Evie says sweetly, leaning against the door of the bathroom. “I’ve never lied once in my life ever.”

107 notes - Posted June 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

MORE heartslabyul fam?? In my gdocs?? It's more likely than you think

A little bit of Heartslabyul upperclassmen fic, playing directly with @mintmoth 's Overblot AU idea. (After overblotting, the overblot-form of the student hangs around for a bit causing problems as a sort of magical leftover)

“No offense babes, but he’s sort of harshing the vibe here. Can he like, leave?”

“No.” Riddle says flatly. There’s something dead about his eyes. It would almost be a nice change from the burning rage, except for how it’s mostly just worrying. “He’s a physical manifestation of my worst qualities, borne of my magic. He can’t physically leave my presence.”

“But like–” Cater waves a hand. “He doesn’t follow you to the bathroom.”

Riddle sighs. Deeply.

The overblot shrieks in pure, unbridled rage. “HE IS RIGHT HERE! WERE I TO LEAVE I SUSPECT YOU WOULD CONTINUE THIS DISRESPECTFUL DIATRIBE AGAINST MY CHARACTER AND I REFUSE TO BE SPOKEN ABOUT IN SUCH A WAY!!”

“Cool.” Cater lifts his hand to draw in a fresh mouthful of smoke. “If we promise to shut up about you, will you leave?”

“NO.”

“‘Kay. Do you want to join in, or do you wanna like, go do some more homework or something in the corner?”

The overblot’s face crumples a bit. “Homework is a worthwhile way to occupy our time here as students. If I were to go and do that, would you join me?”

“Nah. It’s Friday, babe. Time to relax for once.”

The overblot glances back and forth from the desk to Cater, eyes flickering even more than they normally seem to be. The creepy shadow realm thing makes it hard to tell exactly what his face is doing most of the time. Beyond rage. That comes through perfectly well. Also the screaming, that really helps with the emotional projection there.

“I do not want to relax–” he tries. “I would rather see my time put to good use.”

He sneaks a glance over at the actual flesh-and-blood Riddle, who seems to have given up and is sitting on the floor.

Cater follows his gaze. “Yeah, even Riddle has to relax sometime. You’re allowed to not be a manifestation of evil all the time, y’know. You could try chilling the fuck out. Eating a pastry or something. You want to join us?”

“No.” The overblot-riddle says, but he’s not screaming anymore, so it’s still progress. “I would rather sit in the corner and pretend not to see my housemates waste their time on frivolous pastimes that will ultimately destroy their lungs and hearts before the age of forty-five, thank you.”

Cater laughs, because he hasn’t actually managed to destroy his lungs with smoke yet, despite what the overblot (and Riddle too, probably) thinks. “Sure. We’ll be over here having fun if you change your mind.”

“I will not.” then overblot says stiffly, walking over to his corner. “In the rare case that you come to your senses, I will be in my corner.”

341 notes - Posted August 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #it’s like a little highlights reel for my most popular fic posts #confused that I apparently reblogged a ton of twst when I thought I was keeping that interest in moderation??#but I guess I don’t tag reblogs of descendants stuff so it makes sense #anyway happy December #gotta try to post some good fic in the last month of the year.#get those fic stats up some more

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crybaby-bkg · 9 days

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“I thought I was supposed to be the one worshipping you today,” you say in a gasp, eyes fluttering close as you grip the sink counter tight in front of you. Bakugou only huffs a little laugh, his nails digging into the fat of your ass before he taps his palm against the flesh hard, eliciting a little hiccup from you.

“‘S my birthday, so what I say goes.” he tells you muffled, the vibration of his words making your knees quake. he has to hold you up, but he doesn’t care, finds the weight of you pressing back into him something he can get drunk off of.

he woke up nearly right after you did, trying to squeeze you close to him in bed but you scrambled out of his hold, promising to make him breakfast instead. you hadn’t expected him to follow you, to press you against the sink, to nip at your neck and kiss his way down to where your underwear rested on your hips. hadn’t expected him to drop to his knees, to worship, to kiss, to taste you. hadn’t expected him to lick you so sweetly with such a rough tongue through the fabric, for your arousal to bleed through onto his waiting tongue.

“Better than breakfast,” he mutters against you, thick fingers spreading you wide to get a good look at your winking hole, how it drools down the inside of your legs. he spits on it, diving back in to follow the trail, his lips puckering as if kissing you in such an intimate way, you think your vision goes black for a moment.

“Make me cum,” you whimper to him, his lapping pushing you up onto your toes, your hips digging into the sink counter. you reach a hand back to hold his face still with a grip on ash blond locks, grinding yourself against him until his face becomes sticky, but he grins all the while. rolls his tongue from his mouth, lets you use him because there’s no better present than being able to please you.

it comes out as a gush, your pleasure. sprays all over his mouth and chin and neck, your cries stuttered and high, your eyes clenched shut, your entire body shaking from the stimulation that overtakes you.

“Even better than birthday breakfast.” Bakugou grins, nose slightly scrunching at the tug to his hair when he slurps at your hole that still drips for him, spitting back the contents once more. he doesn’t catch it this time, just watches the thickness of his spit mingle with your pearlescent stained cum, thumbing open your cheeks to watch your hole clench and unclench from the scrutiny, the wetness slipping down your thighs.

he kisses you once more, a smacking sound, humiliating, before letting your cheeks go. not without another smack on the roundness of them, nipping at the red and warmed mark of his palm that he branded on you just moments before.

“A lot fucking better.” he tacks on once more about the stupid breakfast. you glare at him over your shoulder, even though he’s the one who’s keeping you held up right now with his firm grip around your still twitching hips.

“You’re gonna stop shading my cooking, asshole.” you bite at him, unable to hold back a shudder when you catch his devious grin, the bottom half of his face and neck still wet from your squirting.

“You caught that?” he asks with an innocent cock of his head, pressing another innocuous kiss to your warmed flesh. you tug at his hair a little harder this time, knowing it’s something that the birthday boy loves, especially by the way he’s damn near leaked through his white boxers.

“Shit head.” you mumble, but he only grins wider, his eyes flickering with the promise of devouring you whole today. just as a little birthday treat, he supposes.

#my first idea was from December of last year and it ended up being something #I’ve already wrote before lmfaooooo I was so mad #I was like damn. this concept feels very familiar #I WONDER FUCKIN WHY????#anyway this has also been in my drafts since like November lol #idk why the concept of him spitting on and then slurping it right back up is so hot to me #but I lob him #anyway happy bday king you’ve changed the trajectory of my life 🙏🏼#bakugou treats! 🍬#—new treat in the streets! 🍫

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