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chrisdrysdale · 1 year

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Bella’s one year anniversary!!

Hiii everyone!!

This december on the 12th will be my one year anniversary on tumblr!! woohoo!!

So I have decided to do a little writing challenge to celebrate!!

🩰- The theme of this writing challenge is going to “Love and Cuddles”

🩰- Just because the theme sounds very fluffy, it doesn’t just have to be fluffy, it can be angst or smutty or dark or a mix of them all. Just as long as it contains a bit of love and cuddles inside.

Rules!!

♡ If you want to enter you must send me an ask letting me know you want to enter! just so i can keep track!

♡- you must write about a Chris Evans character or a Sebastian Stan character (excluding Tommy Lee and Jeff Gillooly)

♡- When you post the fic you must tag me and use the tag #bella’sloveandcuddlefic

♡- If you’re writing smut you must be over 18!

♡- There is no word limit but if it is over 500 word please use a “read more”

♡- deadline is the 1st of January 2023! (it begins today)

Tagging moots who might be interested!

@bubblessunshinehoney @buckyalpine @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @navybrat817 @jobean12-blog @late-to-the-party-81 @sgt-seabass @onceuponastory @buckycuddlebuddy @bucky-barnes-diaries

#bella’sloveandcuddlesfic #writing challenge #bella’s one year #much love

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omaano · 5 months

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“How’d you get stuck with babysitting duty anyway?” Boba asked one day during dinner. “Oh, I volunteered for this,” Fox told him. “Why the kark would you do that?” “Language,” Fox admonished. “Well, I was just living my normal boring life and I thought to myself, ‘I don’t get called an ugly piece of banthashit often enough.’ So I decided to adopt you.” Boba snorted. “You’re a psychopath,” he told Fox. “I’ve been called worse,” Fox replied breezily. Boba doesn’t find a new family and Fox doesn’t become anybody’s dad; an adoption story.

@bilbosmom-belladonna commissioned me to illustrate a scene from her delightful fic Trying to Escape What You Can't Let Go. She was amazing to work with and you should absolutely check out her fun little found family story!

#boba fett #young boba fett #commander fox #star wars fanart #tcw fanart #my art #digital art #cc 1010 #sw fanart #sw tcw #artists on tumblr #fanart #I've only ever drawn baby Boba with this one expression on his face but I love him with it so much #also I was recently reminded that 12-13 year olds are actually teeny tiny so I guess he got his growth spurt early?#can you please appreciate Fox's barely visible shirt?#I'm so glad Bella let me work it in in the end!! I thought I was being very funny #also totally check out the fic!! the banter is A++! and boba is such a traumatized little shit I love him!#they match just right with fox

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layla-carstairs · 3 months

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Andrew Blackthorn is a very... perplexing character to me because we know next to nothing about him but all his kids seemed to like him as a dad... and yet some of the only things we do know about him are that he a) gave Helen & Mark childhood trauma via Keats instead of having a normal conversation and b) he used to restrain Ty in order to "train him" to the point it made him throw up. like idk if there's a particular intention behind his character being good or bad (in general) but I definitely hate him lmao

#imagine your 12 year old son being a better parent than you. embarrassing.#the keats thing is always so wild when I remember it. like wdym he did that??#literally WHAT would possess you to do that #also why did he never question about where Arthur was in Faerie #like did he not know he stayed behind too or did he just not see his brother for 7 years & not care🧍🏻‍♀️#Andrew Blackthorn #the dark artifices #bella talks #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #tda #julian blackthorn #helen blackthorn #mark blackthorn #ty blackthorn #he needs a flower card so I can sort him into one of the low tiers on a tier list 🙄

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marvellousinternethideout · 1 year

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I am probably going to get a lot of hate for this but I've lost all the respect(the very little I had left) for Selene Gomez in past few weeks.

I just had to get it off my chest.

And I know I am gonna get death threats and bullied for this but fuck it. She is manipulative, conniving and instigater of all the hate. She had done this before with too many women, she is doing it now and she will keep doing it. She thrives on this. She loves when other women get death threats and hate like hailey is getting rn. Are we all pretending she hasn't launched her Unhinged pathetic mob of fans before on lots of women, especially women who are either prettier than her or had the audacity to breath near justin.

I said it even though it's a death sentence these days to say anything against selena.

She knows what she's doing. It's way too late for pretending otherwise.

#girl is problematic af #she's one hell of PR #her past actions are so fucking problematic its a miracle how no one talks about it #can't believe i went from a fan to can't even stand her anymore #probably gonna get death threats for this #unhinged toxic stans #i don't care what anyone says #she knows what she's doing and has been doing for years #she won #she isn't always the victim #anyone with two brain cells can tell selena is toxic af and she instigate hate against certain women #anti selena gomez #hailey beiber #bella hadid #justin beiber

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newfangledsoul · 4 months

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The thing with Ascended Astarion is like— I know the whole thing is supposed to be “he’s continuing the cycle of abuse and he doesn’t love your character and he’s a monster etc etc” except two things:

First, you guys I grew up watching Klaus Mikaelson and Lestat and Kol Mikaelson and a million other all powerful awful vampires, and they always have that one person. 20 years of vampire media has trained me to think ascended Astarion can also have that one person.

Second, if you romance Ascended Astarion as dark urge, who is basically the demigod child of the god of murder, I’m gonna be honest I’m not really worried about them getting hurt

#listen I can have my delusions #but also 20 years of vampire media has trained me #the devs of one video game are not going to break that mindset #I respect that Astarion continues the cycle of abuse with some of y’all #but like all the Bella Swans and Caroline Forbes’s before my girl’s different #astarion #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #ascended astarion

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the-most-pathetic-edge-marquis · 5 months

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saving jacob (pt. 9)

i am still rewriting new moon! if you're reading part nine of this series, you know the drill. enjoy!

(series masterpost) (prev. chapter)

if you'd asked bella yesterday what she thought a werewolf strategy meeting looks like—

actually, she has no idea what she would've said. she's sure, though, that it wouldn't have been this.

no one snaps to attention when sam announces they need to talk strategy. paul plucks a banana out of a bowl on the table and tips his chair back onto its legs. jared sighs, and reaches for his wallet, to start flicking crumpled bills toward embry's insistent grin.

sam himself doesn't follow up on the proclamation, just hops up to perch on the counter and takes a huge bite of muffin.

it's emily, squeezing sam's knee as she walks past toward the coffee machine, who speaks.

okay, she says, what changed?

sam, cheeks still bulging with muffin, waves the pastry at jacob.

he stiffens slightly—but he doesn't move from his spot on the wall next to bella, his arm still wrapped tight around her shoulders.

(her cheeks aren't burning, she tells herself, as all the eyes in the room shift towards them. they aren't. there's nothing to blush about—)

we found out what the bloodsucker wants, jacob says. it's hunting bella.

emily's lips press together. bella can't quite stop herself from wincing when the other girl's stare sweeps over her, sharp enough to cut—

she drops her own gaze to her feet. her socks don't match, she realizes dimly. and there's a hole fraying just above her left pinkie toe.

paul snorts. yeah, according to bella.

his voice doesn't tremble, the words mocking instead of the outright snarl of the morning. bella hears jaws snapping all the same.

paul... jared starts.

the other boy just raises his voice. i mean it! we're taking her word for this because, what, she hooked up with a completely different leech? who we've been told to trust has nothing to do with this one?

jacob's arm tightens around bella's shoulders. she wouldn't lie to us, paul. come on.

that doesn't mean she's right, he snaps, and bella can feel jacob stiffen and inhale even as embry mutters something about knocking it off for five fucking minutes guys—

she can also feel the back of her neck prickling. persistent, uncomfortable. she drags her eyes up, teeth gritted in preparation to meet more of emily's too-sharp scrutiny—

but the other girl is sipping coffee and frowning at paul, just like everyone else except...

sam.

he doesn't raise an eyebrow, when she meets his gaze. doesn't tilt his head. his fingers keep steadily folding the muffin wrapper into neat triangles. but his eyes...

edward killed her mate, bella blurts.

it cuts through paul's braying laugh, jared's soft groan. beside her, jacob pauses with teeth half-bared.

sam's lips quirk into a tiny smile. bella swallows, trying not to overthink that—but words are tangling on her tongue—

mate? jared asks. she swallows again.

yeah. james. he was...last spring he tried to. um. kill me. the cullens killed him instead, and i guess now victoria wants...wants...

she's in the ballet studio, fire searing her wrist, clawing ravenously toward her heart.

no. in the meadow.

victoria leans in, brushes her face with bruising fingertips. her hair falls around them until all bella can see is red, red, red, and she whispers—

if he feels even a fraction of what i did—

revenge? embry asks quietly.

it feels like too small of a word. bella nods anyway.

jacob's arm around her is almost tight enough to bruise, but she can't bring herself to be upset. without him, without the weight crushing her into this moment, she'd spin out entirely. lost in the panic, the pain—

it would explain the meadow, jared says.

feet whispering through dry brown grass, or is it just static in bella's ears, sweat seeps ice down her spine—

hm, paul grumbles. pauses.

the silent sky presses down, victoria doesn't move, doesn't even breathe, bella lets her eyes slip closed, lets her lips shape a name.

so we've got bait, jared says.

bella is not bait! jacob actually does let go of her at that, wrenching off the wall like he's about to lunge towards jared—who just shrugs.

you know what i meant.

cold scrapes down bella's neck, settles around her bare shoulders. she shudders.

but she's back in her body, back in now, heart hammering in her ears, tongue dry and cottony and still oddly sweet with the aftertaste of coffee.

sam isn't looking at her anymore, but there's something over-practiced, something studied, about how he stares at jacob and not at all at her.

what bella does is her choice, he says.

the base of bella's skull itches, a nagging feeling there's a hint here she's supposed to pick up. but she's still flattening her feet against cool wood floor and being shocked at every point of contact—

it's not actually her choice if she doesn't know all the details! jacob's voice rises uncomfortably sharp, shoulders climbing toward his ears as he whirls on sam.

the older boy doesn't waver. well please then, jacob, explain it to her.

bella can't see jacob's face, just the ripple of his hair as he juts his chin up defiantly--

and then slumps.

sam doesn't look satisfied, just profoundly exhausted, as jacob slouches back down onto the wall. that works too. bella?

she wrenches her gaze off jacob. (his eyes are locked on the floor anyway, arms crossed so tightly she can feel it like a lump in her own throat.)

what? she spits, surprised by how much venom she musters. one of sam's eyebrows twitches up.

this vampire. we've been chasing her off when we can, but she's fast.

that's one word for it, jared mutters. sam tips his head. at first bella thinks it's acknowledgment, but it must be permission too, because jared straightens, propping his elbows on the table and steepling fingers under his chin.

it's not just about fast, he continues.

his gaze finds bella, and she forces herself to meet that, too. (she's getting a little dizzy with the intensity in all these eyes--jared's are so black, even with the beam of sunlight slanting across them, that she can't make out pupils at all.)

she's a step ahead, always. we switch up patrol routes daily, but she still knows exactly when and where we're coming for her.

bella's throat is dry. pale hands flash in her mind's eye, clutching a pencil, puppeted across a sketchbook page--

she could have a...a gift, she says. like, superpowers.

oh, jacob says next to her, shit. mind-reading.

she's sure she's blushing now. jared's brow furrows, his eyes darting toward sam.

yeah. bella's neck crawls. she doesn't look at jacob. doesn't let herself think about secrets, about names. or um, another one of the, the cullens, she sees the future.

fuck! paul slams his chair fully back onto the ground. sam, can i quit now? the bloodsuckers see the future, i wanna quit.

sam doesn't even dignify that with a look, he and jared still locked in some wordless conversation.

it's embry, spinning a bracelet around his wrist, who glances up and offers bella half a smile. it's better to know, though.

she's not sure how much she believes him.

he's right, emily proclaims, shifting against the kitchen sink. her frown pulls her whole face sideways. it's not good news, but at least we know to plan for it now.

oh, paul grits, right. we plan for the leech seeing our every move.

i don't think she's... bella starts, then falters. she doesn't think—but she doesn't know either, does she?

enough.

sam isn't particularly loud, but there's something about his voice that slices through the room, razor-cuts the conversation into clean halves. silence settles.

this doesn't change anything, he says.

bella's half-expecting argument, watching paul grit his teeth. she half wants to start it herself. but sam's eyes sweep the assembled faces, and there's some steel in him that silences any of her objections.

i hear you all, but listen. jared--

yeah. the other boy straightens seamlessly. we're already counting on her slipping up and underestimating us, right? now we just keep in mind that she probably knows where we'll run into her. maybe we break into more groups so we're closer together, get backup quicker.

do you have the numbers for that? emily asks. jared shrugs--but it's embry who answers, soft, tracing the grain of the table with one finger.

we'll have quil any day now.

there's a moment of silence. a slight flinch out of the corner of bella's eye--sam.

with a stab of guilt, she remembers quil, walking alone down a rain-spattered road. abandoned by his friends, because they didn't want him in their world--

even without him, jared says, we can make it work if we shrink the boundaries.

how--oh. no! jacob spits.

it's not up to you. jared pins bella with a look. she's after you, right? so you stay in la push. we don't have to worry about forks anymore, and we get an ocean boundary.

bait, bella whispers, lips tingling.

not really. jared grins. it's crooked, devastating. now, if you felt like standing on a strategically-located cliff with some open wounds--

alright, sam sighs. slow down, jared. bella?

she looks over. that horribly condescending kindness is back, softening the edges of his eyes.

it's entirely your choice. if you want to stay in forks, we won't stop you. but we also can't pull protection from la push. she must have figured out by now that we're from here. i will not leave our families undefended.

bella thinks of renee's voice, shaky over telephone lines. sam's throat bobs as he collects himself.

if you're here, we know the area better, and we can move much more freely. she hasn't made it into town proper once. it's less likely she gets past us, and we're closer if she does.

beside her, jacob sighs quietly. sam ignores it, but his nostrils flare.

i'm not saying it's entirely risk-free. we can't make you any promises.

bella crosses her arms. (renee's fear is still crackling in her ears--it wasn't real then, but--)

what about charlie?

sam's eyebrows tick up a hair. a grudging respect filters into his gaze.

it's jacob who speaks. we can let my dad know. it's march madness, i'm sure between him and harry they can keep him down here most of the time.

alright. sam tips his head. bella?

she swallows. her left hand aches, frostbite and burn, deeper than the scar--down to the bone.

alright, she echoes.

taglist! @effervescent-hoe , @edwardssparklyskin, @musingsofvenus, @rynliadon, @darkskiesbrighteyed, @belovedisabella, @charliespolicecruiser, @personalheroin, and @gotawishbone (tagging you bc you commented on my wips list asking abt saving jacob, but if you don't want to be tagged let me know!)

as always, thank you so much for reading, and i hope you're well.

#saving jacob #is this original content?#team jacob #lord this one's plot-heavy. and very little jacob. but i had fun!#also. fun fact. if u consider the exponential increase in time btwn updates on this fic #the next update is due two years from now. so look forward to that?#jk #(or am i)#also. just so u all know. i am a paul lahote STAN #i think he's the reader-insert character we deserved #bella's fucking crazy. he's the most rational person in this entire series #he just wants to be mad abt the insanity & eat doritos!#thank you for coming to my ted talk

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clustercraft · 2 years

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𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 🦇 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚’𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 ‘𝟐𝟐 🦇

i’ll be combining a bunch of different prompt lists for my daily builds >:3 starting with day 1: pumpkin spice from @clovercrafted 🎃🍂

#i’m so FREAKING EXCITED #happy spooky season friends >:3 #so many good prompts this year i couldn’t choose just one list 😩😩#minecraft #mineblr #cottagecore #minecraft build #minecraft builds #aesthetic #ghoulcraft #mizunos 16 craft #my builds #cit pack #ite pack #autumn #fall #halloween #bella’s buildtober ‘22

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randomwriteronline · 16 days

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In the time before time, a Toa of Iron arrived to a Nynrah village.

"Arrived" perhaps paints too pretty a picture.

None knew how he got there, nor how he survived long enough to do so; it remained that he dragged himself to the quiet huts upon his arms, clawing at the harsh terrain as what was left of his lower half trailed across the ground, fighting with his failing body to stay alive and clutching in his hand, desperately, a Toa Stone.

The Matoran answered to his feeble call as he begged them to greet him, for that is what Matoran do, and poured out into the wide barren streets. But the stone's sight struck them with horror and omens of unspeakable disasters.

He'd come to doom them, then? To send them all to Karzahni, to be split open and rearranged? To join their lost siblings, whose homes had been collapsed upon them leaving naught but bones and silence? He who was meant to protect them - he'd come to drag one of their own into his destiny of death?

They shivered as the being pleaded them for a successor with what little breath he still had; but every time he offered the Stone to them they all recoiled as though struck harshly, and pulled themselves back in terror.

Except for the Toolmaker.

In that village of steel and rock, he was a quiet Po-Matoran. He carved, sometimes, as Po-Matoran do; he made simple tools for his brothers to use, the kind they were too busy to make themselves. He was ordinary, despite it all: withdrawn and silent as all Nynrah Ghosts are.

He remained still for it was in his nature - a passive soul, like a cliff overlooking the lowlands. There was no courage in his immobility, no apparent thought, no apparent will.

Slowly, in the suffocating quiet, his Fe- and Po-brothers grouped behind him.

He allowed them to push him forward, knowing well that a Toa of Iron would bring too much attention, and that no simple carver wanted to lose their armor in battle; he took the Stone in hand when the dying warrior offered it once more, pleadingly, for there simply was no other option.

The Toa clamped his palms around the Matoran's.

"Toolmaker," he spoke with struggling, heaving breaths, shaking lightly, overwhelmed by the cold feeling snaking into his limbs and yet resigned, for he too once had been a Ghost. "For your brothers' sake - I must disappear."

The Toolmaker did not respond, for there was no point in it.

His arms slid beneath the warrior's: he lifted him as best as he could, unaided, for all others had already fled away from sight - as though the still living half of a body was so cursed that a mere touch could have tainted them - and dragged him into his small hut.

There was a long quiet; then a sudden deafening whisper, like crystal shattered beneath a hammer; and then, the song of the forge.

The Toolmaker emerged after hours of silent work. Toa Stone in hand, a clawed mortar worthy of a Toa as his only company, he left the small funerary settlement with not a breath to follow him inside the small temple in which Mata Nui himself refused to speak.

He never came back from it.

A Toa of Stone - a beautiful being - arrived to a Nynrah village.

None came to greet him, and he did not ask them to; he moved through its few streets knowing well the path to follow as though he'd lived there his whole life, looking for a toolmaker's hut.

He did not find it.

What he found were pieces of rubble that might have once been walls or a roof, and no trace of anything else peeking through the wreckage - all stolen, all scavenged, reused, claimed by someone else, for that is how death and ascension look in Nynrah: a lack of existence to begin with.

The Toa of Stone kneeled on the ground, collected what pieces of what once had been home he could find, and placed them into an orderly pile.

Then, with his clawed mortar, he flattened them, and flattened them, and flattened them, until they were naught but a fine sheet of rock. And he grasped it with both hands, and waved it in the still air, watching it fold and flap like fabric as it slowly stretched into a rectangle; he wrapped himself in it, a little clumsily maybe (as he'd never gotten much chance to do so), and as invisible eyes spied him he departed from the village of ghosts never to return again.

A Toa of Stone - a beautiful being - arrived to a Toa fortress.

None had to wonder where he'd come from: his name alone, with its peculiar pronunciation, his distant quiet nature, his craftsman's mind still anchored to thoughts and rhythms and habits of a life he had passively allowed himself to be torn from, betrayed the truth of his spectral heritage.

None knew what to make of him, for he seldom spoke and simply followed orders, and only repaired all that they brought him without a word, and fixed the walls and roof when they asked him; so they left him be within the fortress, stagnating once more as a mason and repairman, and so for thousands of years lived Toa Pyea, the beautiful, who sat alone like a prized statue not allowed to be scratched even by the winds in the mortuary company of Odahiti, the clawed mortar.

(None knew why the tool was named, nor why with a Toa's name; none ever wondered, so none ever asked.)

And so for thousands of years he lived, in a long, still, lifeless life.

And then, a Kanohi Dragon attacked Metru Nui.

#bionicle #toa mangai #random writing #BACKSTORY FOR PYEA. BACKSTORY FOR ONE THOUSAND YEARS #Odahiti is named after Aphrodite - who gave life to the statue that became Galatea after Pygmalion prayed to her #i dont like the idea that all mangai but lhikan were essentially *~°legally sanctioned criminals°~* based only on tuyet and nidhiki's deals #however! making them A Little Fucked Up is always fun #and this allows me to add onto the remedios la bella and galatea parallels hehehehe

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