#love you guys
dekuinthelake · a day ago
king you are so handsome sometimes i just come here to look at a selfie you posted to feel better
Sometimes comments like this don't feel real. I was extremely bullied growing up all the way until I dropped out of high school. Used to get called "ugly dike" all the time. Cars would drive by and roll down the windows to yell harassing things at me. I no shit had a group of girls throw rocks at me one time while walking home from school once.
It's taken a lot of work to trust people at all again, trust that the compliments aren't a set up for a joke where me actually being hideous is the punchline.
But now (thanks to a fuck load of therapy and transition) I know I'm not ugly or bad. So thankfully, today this compliment feels real.
Being trans is awesome because today if someone doesn't think I'm hot at the club they can fuck themselves. I know I'm handsome. I worked for this shit, and I'm very proud of how I look and I am so happy other people agree and get some joy out of me being self indulgent on the internet.
Thank you, anon. You filled me with a lot of contemplative gender euphoria. I wish you the same you sweetheart ❤️❤️❤️
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thetomorrowshow · 2 days ago
froze in shock
empires superpowers au masterlist (incomplete)
i'm this close to dropping my title scheme
cw: angst, nightmares, seeing someone dead in ur dreams?, relationship fights
this story takes place approximately 7 months after the end of 'poisoned rats'.
For the most part, Scott loves Jimmy’s strange behaviors and quirks. He loves the way he knocks four times before opening any door. He loves the way he glares through slitted eyes at any sort of electronic appliance. He loves the way he never takes his wallet anywhere and tries to just waltz out of stores without paying.
Something he doesn’t exactly love is just how stiff Jimmy is all the time.
Not personality-wise, or emotionally, but physically. When they watch movies all cuddled up together, Jimmy stares at the screen without seeming to need to shift his seating position, even as Scott readjusts about a billion times. They read together and Jimmy doesn’t move an inch from where he’s curled up on the couch. They lie in bed and Scott tries to sleep, but Jimmy is absolutely motionless in his arms.
It’s just frankly weird, and too many times Scott’s poked Jimmy to make sure he’s still alive only for Jimmy to turn those big puppy-dog eyes on him, terribly wounded by a little prod. Scott always rolls his eyes and cuddles Jimmy a bit closer, putting it out of his mind. That is, until today.
It’s the weekend, and Scott wakes up this morning after a terrible nightmare (He’s too late, Jimmy’s on the ground with blood dripping from his mouth and utterly motionless, he hasn’t got a pulse and no matter how many times Scott shakes him he doesn’t rouse), but he shakes it off and slips out of bed to make pancakes, eyes lingering on the sleeping form of his boyfriend.
Ever since he was eighteen, cooking’s something he’s done to keep his mind occupied. It had taken quite a bit of work on Aeor’s part to get rid of the idea that only women cook, only women do chores, but once that particular brand of toxic masculinity had been debunked, he’d grown to love cooking. It's a safe haven, a place to stretch some mental muscles and focus solely on the task at hand. Plus he usually gets something delicious out of his labor, so while others may consider cooking a chore, Scott sees it as one of his favorite pastimes.
He’s just finished the first couple of pancakes when Jimmy shuffles out of the bedroom, pajama shirt half off and hair sticking up. He yawns, leans over Scott’s shoulder for a kiss (Scott smiles and acquiesces, taking in his boyfriend alive and safe and moving), then heads off in the direction of the bathroom.
“Love you!” Scott calls after him. He gets a faint grunt in reply.
When Jimmy exits the bathroom after half an hour, his hair is tamed and his eyes are actually open. He hasn’t showered, which isn’t exactly abnormal, but Scott’s not sure if it’s a trauma thing today or if he just wants pancakes.
Jimmy makes a beeline for the cupboard, retrieving a plate, then a fork from the drawer below. He kisses Scott on the cheek when he reaches over him for the steadily growing collection of pancakes, nabbing two before continuing to the table.
“Sleep well?” Scott asks lightly, blinking back images from his nightmare.
“Fine, I guess,” Jimmy says, and there’s still traces of sleep in his voice that make Scott grin to himself. “Thank you for breakfast.”
Scott nods, flips a pancake. He reaches up into the cupboard above the stove, pulls out the syrup and hands it to Jimmy, who is currently bent over in the fridge for butter.
“Do you have to superhero today?” Jimmy asks after a few minutes, and Scott shrugs.
“It’s not my day for patrol, but I could be called out at any time. If that happens, do you want me to ask Lizzie to come over?”
“Nah, I’ll be fine.”
Elle curls around Scott’s legs, purring softly. He knows what she wants, which is why he’s already made and set aside two tiny pancakes. One of these he dangles between his fingers, drops into Elle’s mouth when she leaps up to catch it. Norman skitters into the room as if sensing the food, gives Scott the most innocent look ever. Scott chuckles, kneels down with the other tiny pancake and holds it out to him. Norman barely takes it in time, Elle lunging forward to try and snatch it.
“You’re such a good cat dad,” Jimmy mumbles around a mouthful of pancake. “Makin’ ‘em pancakes an’ all.”
Scott rolls his eyes. “Right, because they would never whine at me until I gave them one anyways.”
He finishes up the pancakes, clicking the stove off and rinsing the mixing bowl out in the sink. Then he serves himself some pancakes, sits down next to Jimmy, stifling a yawn.
Jimmy, of course, notices, brows crinkling with concern. “Scott, dear, did you sleep last night?”
He did sleep, of course. Just not very well. Scott doesn’t need to answer, though, because Jimmy keeps speaking.
“You look exhausted. Maybe you should nap after breakfast.”
Scott shovels a bite of pancake in his mouth. Now that he’s sitting down, he really feels what Jimmy’s saying. He just wants to lean back and close his eyes for a little bit, and his bed sounds almost heavenly.
“Maybe,” he agrees. The more he thinks of it, the more appealing it sounds. It's not like it takes much convincing to get him to do something he wants to do, though. “Wake me up if the hero phone rings?”
Jimmy smiles, bounces a little in his seat. “I didn’t actually think I would convince you!” he says. “You must be really tired. Of course I will, of course! Just go rest, my love! I’ll clean this up.”
Scott chuckles, leans over for a sticky kiss. “Okay. I’ll go to bed.”
Scott shoots up with a gasp—Jimmy’s gone, he’s dead, he’s lying unmoving on the floor and there’s no blood but his skin has taken on a grey pallor and there’s nothing Scott can do but take his pulse over and over with no results—and Jimmy’s in front of him, hands up placatingly.
“Are you awake?” Jimmy asks cautiously, and Scott glances around the blurry world only for his bedroom to come into focus. He blinks at Jimmy again, trying to reconcile the man in front of him with the one he’d just seen.
A dream. A nightmare.
The Jimmy before him—the real Jimmy, the living, breathing Jimmy—is shirtless, a towel tied around his waist. The scars that mar his torso are a shiny pink, his hair wet and flat against his head. In his hand is a flip-phone, outstretched toward Scott.
“They’re calling for you, but I can tell them you’re sleeping if you like,” Jimmy says, squinting at him. Scott takes a moment to regulate his breathing, still out of control after a repeat of last night’s dream.
“Yeah, no, I’ll go out,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes and kicking off the tangled sheets. “Does the message say who the villain is?”
“The Oracle,”  Jimmy reads. “Apparently Joel went up against him, but you know how sensitive he is to the Oracle’s powers.”
Scott sucks in a breath, suddenly fully awake. That’s bad news. “They should’ve called me right away. Is Joel okay?”
Jimmy shrugs.
“Right, tell them I’m getting ready.” Scott rolls out of the bed, heads to the closet. “Sure you don’t want to come?”
Jimmy snorts. “Right. I’m gonna get back to my shower. Have fun out there, love you.”
“Love you,” Scott calls after his retreating back, before slipping his supersuit on. Apparently he’s got a villain to fight.
The Oracle is a quiet villain with haunted eyes, and Scott hates fighting him these days because of how much that reminds him of Jimmy. He scares him off anyways, helps Joel (who is tugging on his own hair, eyes squinted shut as he lies curled on the sidewalk) to Lizzie, then returns home, somehow more exhausted than he was before he took his nap.
Jimmy’s on the couch when he gets back, Norman on his lap as he watches whatever it is he’s watching. He lights up when Scott stumps through the back door, kicking off his boots and pulling off his mask.
“Hello, my love!” Jimmy says brightly, pausing his show. “I’d get up to kiss you, but Norman is asleep on me.”
Scott can’t help but smile at him. “It’s fine, Jimmy. How about I go change out of this and then we put on the next episode of Stranger Things?”
Jimmy agrees and soon enough they’re both on the couch cuddled up to each other, Norman having slunk off to some other room. Scott flips through the episodes until he finds the one they’re on, then settles in, the bowl of popcorn that Jimmy had prepared resting on his lap.
They’re barely past the title screen of the second episode when Scott feels the exhaustion start to take over. His limbs grow heavy, his eyelids flutter shut, he sighs and lets his head rest more heavily on Jimmy’s shoulder.
And then Jimmy’s dead under him, too still to be anything but that, and his heart isn’t beating under Scott’s ear and he doesn’t know how it happened—
Scott’s eyes shoot open and he sees Jimmy, eyes wide, hands pushing gently against his chest. But he’s still so motionless—Scott’s hands are gripping his shoulders and he shakes him, Jimmy has to wake up he can’t be dead he just can’t be—
“Scott!” Jimmy cries out, fear flashing across his face before he fully pushes him away.
Scott blinks, takes in his surroundings.
He’s on the couch in his living room. The TV is playing something—Stranger Things—on low volume, like Jimmy had turned it down so he could rest easier. Jimmy’s on the far end of the couch from him, hands up defensively.
And maybe Scott’s just exhausted. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t been able to sleep lately without being haunted by nightmares of Jimmy dead under his fingers. Maybe the fight with the Oracle had tipped him over the edge. But instead of doing what a good partner would do, instead of apologizing and explaining his actions, instead of offering Jimmy a hug and safety, Scott lashes out.
“I thought you were dead!” he spits, hands clenched in fists. “I—I keep dreaming that you’ve died, that I was too late to save you, and then you make everything worse by how freakishly still you are all the time! It’s like cuddling with a statue, I swear! I woke up from a nightmare that you weren’t moving and you weren’t moving here, either! I just—” dread (or maybe tears) chokes him, but Scott continues— “I just wish you weren’t weird like that.”
There’s a moment of silence as all those ugly words hang in the air between them, and for a moment Scott feels viciously pleased, pleased that they’re finally out of his head. Then that moment is gone and Jimmy is rolling off the couch and running into their bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him.
Scott sits there for a moment, fuming. Oh, so he doesn’t get to be critical of anything? Jimmy’s just scared him half to death, and Scott doesn’t even get the chance to ask him to not do that?
And then his brain seems to catch up with his mouth.
Oh no.
Scott may have no idea why Jimmy doesn’t fidget. It may bother him a lot. That doesn’t mean he gets to blame Jimmy for it. It doesn’t mean he gets to be mad at Jimmy. If something about Jimmy’s actions truly bothers him, he’s meant to talk it out with his therapist and figure out the best conversation that can be had for the both of them over the issue, and remember that they both have to make concessions for this relationship to work. This is certainly something he can concede.
Not anymore. Not now that he’s ruined everything. Jimmy hates him. He’d yelled at him for something that he probably didn’t even realize that he was doing, for something that Scott had never even expressed bothers him. And now Jimmy’s going to break up with him and Scott deserves it.
Maybe he can fix things, a little bit. Or at least find a way to apologize to Jimmy before he leaves him.
Scott dashes away the tears that have begun to roll down his cheeks, kicks off the blanket that he doesn’t remember putting on and trips over the overturned popcorn bowl, knocking even more kernels all over the carpet. He sighs, crouches down, and begins picking up each piece to throw away. He could get the vacuum out—he should get the vacuum out—but this is more difficult, and he deserves more difficult.
Once he’s collected it all, he carries the bowl to the kitchen and dumps it in the trash, then puts the bowl in the sink. From there, he rinses any other various dishes and loads them into the dishwasher, then opens the fridge and gets out the ground beef he’d set to defrost the day before.
They’d planned lasagna for dinner. He sets a pan on the front right burner, plops the ground meat into it with some oil and onion flakes, then sets a pot of water to boil on the back left burner. He moves mechanically, just following step after step, repeatedly blinking back tears. This is something he knows how to do, something he knows Jimmy will enjoy eating.
As if summoned by the thought of him, the bedroom door creaks open and Jimmy sidles out, pads down the hall and into the kitchen. Scott doesn’t look at him, just wipes his nose on his sleeve and stirs the meat.
“Babe,” Jimmy says softly, stepping closer. “Baby, you’re overworking yourself. Sit down, yeah? You literally fell asleep on my shoulder earlier.”
Scott sucks in a shuddering breath, reluctantly lets Jimmy pry the spatula from his fingers. At another nudge, he falls into his chair at the kitchen table.
He hadn’t realized just how far he was pushing himself until he sits down, feels his muscles relax, soreness he hadn’t noticed resolving into relief.
He shouldn’t be feeling relief. He should still be struggling. He deserves to struggle.
“Now. We need to talk about what just happened,” Jimmy tells him, tossing the meat around. “To start off, I’m sorry.”
Scott blinks. “I—sorry for what?” he asks incredulously. “You didn’t do anything!”
“I’m sorry for running out when you were hurting,” Jimmy says simply. “I should have stayed and tried to talk you through it, but I panicked and bolted. I want to get better at staying in uncomfortable conversations, and it’s something I’m going to talk to my therapist about.”
He’s so perfect. Jimmy’s the most perfect boyfriend in existence, and that’s why Scott doesn’t deserve him. He didn’t do anything wrong, Scott was the one to freak out on him for no reason—
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Scott sniffles. “Thinkin’ about how much I don’t deserve you.”
“Okay. And what upset you earlier?”
Scott’s not sure how to say it, because now that they’re in the brightly lit kitchen and Jimmy’s tapping the spatula against the rim of the pan, it seems ridiculous. “I—” he cuts himself off, arms twitching up like he’s about to hide his head in them. Maybe he should. “I’ve been having bad dreams,” he says eventually. “Where you . . . where I’m too late. And they’ve k-killed you. And it always ends the same way—I’m listening for your heartbeat, and there’s nothing, and you’re so very very still—and I should’ve never freaked out at you about it, you—”
Jimmy snorts. “‘I should’ve never freaked out at you about it’ should be the title of my autobiography.”
“Yeah, but—” Scott’s hands are shaking, he’s not sure why— “but I had literally no reason! And you might have a reason for not fidgeting, and—” “Whoa, back it up!” Jimmy sets the spatula down, turns to him, his brows raised in concern. “Do you think I have no reason for freaking out when I have a panic attack over the door being closed?”
“I—what? No! But that’s a trauma response, it’s—” “And you think your nightmares aren’t a trauma response?”
Scott stops. Thinks. 
It’s . . . it’s certainly possible that rescuing Jimmy was a traumatic enough experience that he can’t stop dreaming about it. But. . . .
“But that’s your trauma,” Scott whispers. “I—it wasn’t bad for me. I shouldn’t be upset over it when it didn’t even happen to me.”
Silence for a moment. “Scott,” says Jimmy eventually. “After you rest, I hope you realize how stupid that just was.”
“I—what—?” Scott sputters, but Jimmy continues speaking.
“Trauma doesn’t discriminate! And secondhand trauma is a thing that exists. It doesn’t have to happen to you for you to be traumatized. Like—uh, like when Mythics accidentally flashed you that one time? I may have just been in the crowd, and I wasn’t the one who had to help him pull his pants back up, but I was certainly traumatized.”
Scott laughs in spite of himself, some of the tension oozing out of him. Jimmy’s right, and he knows it. He’s even talked to Nora about secondhand trauma and what signs to look out for. He really is just exhausted.
“I’m sorry,” he says after a minute, “for saying what I did. Sure, it could have been a trauma reaction, but that doesn’t mean I had to say all that.”
Jimmy nods. “Thank you. It sounded like it was something that’s been building up for a while.”
Scott shrugs. It has been, but he doesn’t want to say it.
“I don’t know why I’m so still all the time,” Jimmy says thoughtfully, opening a box of lasagna noodles. “I don’t remember if I used to fidget or not. If I had to guess. . . .” He pours the noodles into the boiling water, pokes at them with a wooden spoon. “Y’know, thinking back I think I did fidget a lot in school. But you’re looking at a guy who had to spend days lying frozen on an operation table.”
Guilt surges through Scott, but before he can open his mouth Jimmy continues.
“But then again, I’ve had to sleep in a lot of tight spaces over the years where there wasn’t room to move. And there was a year or so when I was younger that I was so scared of myself that I barely dared to move. And also, the education system sucks for neurodivergent kids and they might’ve just trained it out of me when I was real small. I really don’t know. I have my theories, but there’s no way to really know. In any case, I never meant to scare you.”
“If I didn’t feel like a jerk before, I definitely do now,” Scott admits. “Being tired is no excuse. I shouldn’t have been so nasty about it. I’ll talk to Nora, try to work out why I responded like that.”
“And I’ll work on moving occasionally, so you feel more comfortable!”
“What?” That’s—no— “Jimmy, no. I don’t want you to change your behavior, you haven’t done anything wrong!”
Jimmy turns the heat of the lower right burner on low, sets down the spatula. He leaves the food to sit beside Scott, takes his hands in his own.
“Petal,” he says seriously. “When you started leaving doors open for me, that was a change in your behavior to keep me safe, even though you weren’t doing anything wrong by closing them.”
“Yeah, but—”
“When I asked you to not stand over me if I’m on the floor, that was a change in your behavior that you made and you definitely didn’t have to, but you choose to crawl across rooms sometimes so that I feel safe. When I asked you not to touch my head, you immediately stopped, even though it was an instinct for you.” Jimmy kisses one of Scott’s hands, smiles softly. “This isn’t a big change for me. And it’ll help you feel safe. Let me do this for you.”
Scott bites his lip. “But what if it is a big change for you? What if you try to fidget and have a flashback?”
“Well, then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Jimmy shrugs. He stands, squeezing Scott’s hands before letting go. “Now how about I finish making this, and you hop in the shower, and then we can eat and go to bed. Sound good?”
It sounds wonderful, especially when Scott had convinced himself not long ago that he deserved to be dumped by Jimmy. Maybe his thoughts today haven’t exactly been rational.
He showers, and they eat, and they turn in early but lie in bed and finish their episode on Scott’s laptop. When it’s over and Scott puts the laptop to the side, Jimmy snuggles up to his chest and closes his eyes.
“I feel like I really messed up today,” Scott whispers.
Jimmy hums. “Maybe you did mess up. But we’ll get through it. And tomorrow we can talk about it more to really sort out the issue, okay?”
Jimmy tilts his head up, presses a soft kiss to Scott’s lips. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
Scott wakes in the middle of the night, frantically reaching for Jimmy’s arm to take his pulse. Jimmy just sniffs, mumbles something in his sleep, presses himself closer to Scott.
Scott watches his chest rise and fall until he feels secure. Then he lets his eyes flutter closed and finally falls into a dreamless sleep.
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foxssleeplessness · 10 months ago
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jadefire54 · a month ago
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His Red Eyes
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tameshrimp · 11 months ago
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✬The Underrated Duo✬
dedicated solely to you, @fuyutake
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neilperrydeservedbetter1959 · 3 months ago
~sirius finding out about james and regulus~
*remus sitting in the common room on the sofa, reading*
sirius, entering the common room and moving to sit beside remus: hello, my love *kisses remus*
remus, smiling at him: hello gorgeous.
sirius, grinning back, holding remus’ hand, then looking around: where is everyone?
remus: peter ran to the kitchens to grab us some snacks, and i think james is in our dorm, he said something about taking a nap? i’m not sure though.
sirius: james? a nap?
remus: yeah, i thought it was weird too, but i didn’t question it. he can hardly ever sleep, maybe it’s catching up to him.
sirius: you don’t think he could be sick, do you?
remus: he looked fine, but i don’t know.
sirius: hmm. if he’s sick he’ll just try to hide it and say he’s fine; i’m gonna run up real quick and check on him, i’ll be right back love *squeezes remus’ hand and kisses him on top of the head as he stands up*
remus: alright, peter should be back soon as well, he’ll probably be here when you return.
sirius: brilliant, i’m starving and i still need to talk to him about our next prank idea, i want to get his thoughts on it. *starts going up staircase until he reaches the top, very lightly knocks on the dorm door in case james is asleep before opening it*
sirius: hey james are you awake- WHAT IN MERLINS BLOODY BALLSACK IS THIS?!??
james and regulus: *startled and springing apart, regulus almost falling off the bed in an effort to get off james’ lap, talking over each other*
regulus: i- we can explain-
james: we were only snogging, nothing else-
regulus: it’s just, he was really annoying but-
james: please don’t freak out and kill me-
regulus: he’s nice and hot and he won me over and-
james: because i really care about him, sirius, and-
james and regulus, simultaneously: i love him. *look at each other and slightly smile*
james, hanging his head: oh merlin
remus, rushing in the room: what, what, what is it????
sirius: i need you to obliviate me. preferably this instant, please.
remus: what? why??
sirius: i have seen something that i will NEVER UNSEE and i need to erase it from my memory permanently.
remus: what did you see?
sirius: *turns to look pointedly at james and regulus, both of whom have messed up hair, red lips, and just look disheveled*
remus, looking between them:
remus: oh. OH. OH SHIT-
remus, starting to laugh: WERE YOU TWO-
remus: *dying of laughter, about to fall in the floor*
peter, entering the room with snacks from the kitchen and a confused look on his face: what’s with all the screaming up here???
sirius: *stares at james and regulus*
remus: *laughs harder*
peter: *looks between regulus and james, and sirius and the couple* oh, did you finally figure it out?
sirius: YOU KNEW ABOUT THIS?????
peter: i mean yeah mate, i didn’t think it was a secret??
remus, finally halfway calming down: to be honest, i knew too, i just didn’t think you’d find out this way, i’m sorry love.
remus: it wasn’t my relationship to tell, love! besides, they were planning to tell you this weekend anyway, right lads? *death glares them*
james, glancing at regulus quickly before straightening (ha) up: oh yeah, yeah we definitely were planning to tell you saturday, pads.
regulus, nodding his head: yeah definitely.
sirius: …i don’t know how to feel about all this- wait a second- REMUS DID YOU SEND ME UP HERE TO SEE THIS??
sirius, turning to james and regulus: AND YOU TWO-
james and regulus, both looking at him warily:
sirius: I’M STILL NOT SURE ABOUT THIS, BUT JUST- *deep breath* just, don’t break each other’s hearts, okay? because then i’ll have to kick both your arses and console each of you and that’ll get annoying.
james and regulus, looking at each other then nodding: we won’t.
james, taking regulus’ hand: i’m in this for the long run, sirius.
regulus, nodding: as am i.
sirius, hesitantly nodding: …okay. if you really love each other, then i’ll just get used to this, eventually. one question though, how long have you two been together?
regulus: about five months.
sirius: FIVE MONTHS-
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modmad · 9 months ago
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kiwilart · a month ago
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Hello hello, finally it's time to share with you all my work for the @kaishinbigbang! It was really fun working with @angelicsentinel in this project, I couldn't have asked for a better partner! Cannot wait to work more with you in the future! ~\(≧▽≦)/~
If you have time, please consider checking the companion fic of my art - 『 Static 』 - on AO3! Spoilers: It's amazing and you may find some silly extra sketches in there - at least one per chapter! That's at least 10 extra sketches!ヾ(•ω•`)o ~
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toriowlfluff · a month ago
Thank you so much, this ask literally felt like this…
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A total pick me up!
I’ve been so busy with irl stuff that motivation has been low. But seeing this ask, seeing all your guys’ love for what I create really shines through and I immensely appreciate it!
(Tumblr won’t let me post the higher resolution one and I’m mad about that)
Also, welcome back into G/t obsession! Gotta be my one of my favorite hyperfixations ;D
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alaspice · 2 months ago
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Jaybird and random green lightning
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reallybadblackoutpoems · 2 months ago
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arthritis medicines a-z:  a doctor's guide to today's most commonly prescribed arthritis drugs (2000) - charles michael stein
“hot girls have kidney stones”
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sippingmysoda · a month ago
hi! i have a request for vance but it’s totally fine if u don’t want to do it :))
could u write something where reader works at the grab n go and whenever vance goes he always makes small talk nd eventually gains the confidence to ask them out? kinda like mutual pining lol
(sorry if vance seems kinda ooc i just feel like he wouldn’t rlly be used to having a crush/someone having a crush on him. also sorry i wrote wayyy too much lol)
I hope you like this one :))
Vance Hopper x Reader
"Price Check on Your Heart?"
Reader is a cashier at the drug store. Vance wants to hate them, but they're just so damned nice.
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It's true what they say.
Customer service sucks ass.
No, really. It wasn't even the customers that were bad. Sure, you'd get the occasional asshole, but that was whatever, you could live with that. What you couldn't live with?
The fucking boredom.
Ever since you got the job as a cashier at your local drug store, it feels like you'd done nothing but count the seconds on the clock hanging opposite the service desk. Tick, tick, tick.
It was fucking mind numbing.
Seriously, nothing ever happened. You couldn't care less about the hundreds of adults (and, hey, sometimes kids, you werent paid enough to discriminate) coming in to buy cigarettes, or the old women stocking up on bread whenever there was an incoming storm.
Nothing exciting ever happened, and you were starting to get fed up with it.
Of course, those were famous last words.
Life was about to get a hell of a lot more exciting then you were probably prepared for.
You'd been working at the shop for about a week when you first saw him.
You were leaning against your hand, half asleep. It had been a slow day for customers, and you could feel drool threatening to fall down your chin. Just as you were about to slip off your palm, head destined to bang onto the glass countertop, you were rudely awakened.
"Hey, I'm gonna' need a pack of menthol, and be fuckin' quick about it."
Everyone knew Vance Hopper. You didn't live in this town without hearing the tales of the devil child who left a trail of blood and mischeif everywhere he went.
He was evil, the adults would whisper. Raised by a violent man to become a violent man. Never going to be good for anything, and certainly never going to be any good for anybody.
To you? Well, he was the only interesting thing to happen all day.
"Well, hello there, mister tall, blonde, and violent. It's lovely to meet you as well! This is the part where you politely ask for my assitance, by the way." The blonde in front of you froze, looking at you with shock.
You guessed very few people every talked back to Vance Hopper.
"The fuck did you just say to me, motherfucker?"
You rolled your eyes. "Heres your cigs, man. Hey, aren't you the guy who plays pinball in the back?"
"Uh...yeah?" Vance still seemed a tad bit suprised. He was probably a lot more used to people throwing themselves at his feet, begging for their life, then borderline insulting him and then asking about his hobbies.
Yeah, well, your self preservation insticts were non existent at the best of times, and you were fucking tired.
"Sweet, man. Watching you will give me something to do in this damn hell hole. Go ahead, play away." God, you'd be lucky to get out of this with your skin in tact. Still, Vance just nodded slowly, backing away, his eyes not leaving you until he almost bumped into the damn fireworks display.
You snorted.
Yeah, this would kill some time.
It had become a routine. Most days, if you were, for God knows what reason, looking for Vance Hopper, he could be found playing pinball in the back of the drug store.
If he wasn't there? Well, he was probably up front, talking to you.
Not out of his own free will, God knows. He still seemed shocked everytime you asked him how his day was going, or what his newest high score was.
Honestly, you'd grown to like him over the past few weeks. At first, he was a way to pass time during the slow hours of the day. But, as time went on, and you coaxed (forced) him into talking with you more and more, you'd found he was actually half way decent company.
Okay, fine, you'll spill, you were totally crushing on him.
What, it's the 70s! Bad boys are all the rage, and, come on, you cant be expected to resist a man who looked like that. It was just inhuman, honestly.
You liked to consider yourself at least friends, despite Vances complete reluctance.
Speaking of, the man himself now stood at the pinball machine in the back.
No one had come in for about two hours, and you were bored. Apparently, boredom made you do stupid shit, because before you knew it, you had walked yourself over to where Vance was going absolutely fucking ham on some pinball.
"Hey, V, hows the game goin'?" Vance glanced at you, looking like he wanted to speak, but the sound of the final ball slipping through the paddles cut him off. He looked at the game in shock.
"You, you just made me fucking lose. Right when I was about to beat my damn highscore. I could fucking kill you for that." You were pretty sure you were supposed to be scared, but you couldn't really bring yourself to be. Honestly, at this point, to you, Vance was kind of like a pitbull. Harmless, if you knew how to handle them.
You'd like to think you knew how, after these past few weeks.
"Shit, sorry about that, man, let me buy you a coke? As an apology, or whatever?" Vance deadass fucking gasped, like a nun asked to show some ankle, you'd swear it, and his cheeks dusted a light pink.
He seemed to get a grip, actually shaking his head a little, before settling into a scowl.
It would've been a lot more intimidating if he wasn't still blushing.
"...Y-yeah, you, you fuckin' better!"
...Yep, definetely a pitbull.
Since that event, Vance seemed to be willing to tentatively enjoy your interactions. At least, he could make it through more then one sentance without threatening your life, which was a pretty big achievement!
He had been acting odd recently, however.
For instance, just yesturday, you'd offered him a bag of pretzels you'd snuck from the inventory in the back, and he'd turned as red as a tomatoe. He'd mumbled something to himself, something about 'always have to be so damn nice', but had accepted the pretzels without a word (although with a healthy amount of brooding looks).
And, on top of that, you'd always catch him staring at you, when he was supposed to be playing pinball.
Weird, right?
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. The bell connected to the glass door of the shop chimed, and none other than the denim clad demon himself walked in. You perked up immedietly, and shot the man a smile.
"Well, if it isn't Hoppity Hopper!" Vance cringed visably.
"Yeah, that one's not gonna fucking fly." You laughed, shrugging.
"Eh, figured I'd try. So, what'll it be today, V?" It was at this moment you realised Vance's entire face was bright red. Honestly, you only noticed it because it proceeded to get darker the more you spoke.
"Um, actually, I wanted to, uh, ask, um, if you'd, uh- Shit, this is fucking bullshit! Listen, do you want to maybe goseeafuckin'movieorsomethingwithmesometime?"
You blinked, staring at him owlishly. When your brain finally caught up to his words, you blushed, coughing in shock. You opened your mouth to reply, but apparently, you'd waited too long.
"N-nevermind, fuck, I lnew this was a dumb goddamned idea from the fucking start, jesus-"
"Yeah, I'd love to!"
"Well fuck yo- Wait, you would?"
Yeah, life was gonna' be pretty exciting from now on.
With the way Vance was smiling, without any of his usual cruelty, you couldn't bring yourself to mind.
- Car ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ
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michelleleewise · a month ago
Hey everyone!!!!!! I just wanted to reach out to everyone real fast!! I needed to update my permanent tag list.........I want to make sure I'm tagging everyone who wants to be and not tagging others that don't. 😁 I'm basically starting over with it, so let me know!!!! Thanks guys!!! 🥰🥰 HUGSSS!!
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tpwkwriter · 2 months ago
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In my remorse.
Where y/n reads something she wished she didn’t.
Y/n couldn’t snap her blurry eyes away from the screen, page after page of ‘Harry styles former girlfriend finally lost weight?’ Or ‘is y/n y/l/n really using former one direction member harry styles for money?’ It ranged from her looks to there relationship.
The girl felt smaller then ever, did people really believe she used harry? Hell did harry think that?
Her wet eyes scanned the laptop infront of her and wondered why she even did this? News article after news article, and even Twitter was opened and for hate this was a Landmine of them. She understood people were jealous of course they were going to be but she didn’t expect comment after comment of just sheer amount of hate towards her.
With her mixed emotions of frustration, sadness, anger and distress she picked up her phone and clicked on her boyfriends contact, she was aware of the time but she just needed somebody. After three seconds she is saved with the voice of her love.
“Lovie? What’s up” he asked laced with sleep and contentment.
“Harry..I need you” she urged with a sniffle that indicated she was upset
“Say no more love m’on my way” and with that you could here him pick up his car keys from his bedside table.
Within 5 minutes H arrived, he walked into the house looking for his lovie, he walked up the stairs and found her bedroom door slightly open he took that as a signal that she was in there.
“Lovebug?” He hummed, lightly tapping on the door and pushing it open.
His lovebug was a sight for sore eyes, her face flushed and eyes puffy and hair messy and tossed from where she’s clearly been pulling it.
“M’angel” he rushed to her side, sitting next to her on the bed, cupping her face examining her face,
“What’s got you like this hmm?” He he frowned wrapping his arms around around her pulling her into him and cradling her as if she was a baby.
With no word she hid her face into his chest, just wanting to be held and loved.
“Y/n..darling what’s going on hmm? What’s going in that pretty little mind” he urged kissing her head
“Cant make it better if you don’t tell me” after holding her tightly to his chest his hold loosened when he spotted her open laptop, with his left hand he gently picked it up exposing several tabs of Twitter, news articles, and even hate accounts.
Fuck...he mentally thought
“Baby girl..fuck im so sorry you had to see all that m’angel so so sorry” he exclaims cuddling her and rocking her slightly.
“They all hate me h-Harry” she cries scrunching her hand into his hoodie. “I haven’t done anything, I really haven’t”
Harry’s heart breaks at the sight and sound of his lovie at this point, he just wishes he could take her away from the world and just protect her from everything including the shitty media.
“M’angel, you haven’t done anything apart from being my bestest girl hmm? It’s them sick twisted fucks who have done shit” he goes on
“They a-all think I t-take your money and use y-you and I h-hate it” she whispered
“Hey,hey none of that lovebug, you know that’s not true, I know that’s not true”
After moments of consoling y/n, Harry felt so sick and bad for what she had just gone through, the fact they hurt HIS love to the point where she can’t even speak it drastically hurt him aswell, he’d had enough.
He’d sent y/n for a hot, bubble bath that he ran himself, while he called publicists and managements about this entire situation, he also took a chance to block all of those Twitter accounts on her laptop and block those articles, when it came to his lovie he wouldn’t mess about.
He had no doubt about staying the night so he poured them selves both a cup of tea to enjoy before falling into a slumber.
Y/n walked out from the bathroom in one of his hoodies he had left here and his boxers on.
“Feel alright love?” He asks concern filling his green eyes
“Yeah” she shyly smiled while crawling into the bed and being embraced from her loving boyfriend.
“Don’t like seeing you like that, and I hate the world for making ya upset, kills me” he said pressing kisses to her forehead.
“S’not your fault H, don’t beat yourself up over it” she informs snuggling further into him.
“I love you Harry, I love how much you care, I love how real you are..I love how you seem to comfort me and make me feel the safest I’ve ever been, don’t care about the fame or the money or the fans, I just love you” she rambles
That was music to Harry’s ears, that’s all he wants.
“May come to shock lovie but, quite love you too, and you know I never believe them tabloids, the trust and love I have for you is endless”
While y/n was dosed off next to him all he could think about was protecting and shielding her from all things bad, he lie down next to her and took in that she was all his and no one or nothing could change that.
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hyacynta · 3 months ago
toa fandom are like a bunch of puppies istg. we see someone give even just a slight HINT that they like toa and we all excitedly greet them
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bonesandthebees · 4 months ago
so based on my personal theory that the ghostbur reddit posts are meant to show us what happened to c!wilbur during his 13 years of limbo i decided just to do some editing for funsies
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obviously not all of these make sense but I think it's definitely interesting to read these from this perspective
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oldmanroadhouse · 4 months ago
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