isn’t max’s full first name “maxwell”? if so, i’m going to fucking punch his parents for only putting his nickname. like, i understand that maybe that’s what people mostly call him, but my parents wouldn’t go around putting “em” on something like a camp sign-up sheet even though literally everyone i know calls me that. they’d put my full first name, which is emily. oof. idk.
another thing– max’s parents didn’t even bother to put his last name? that’s kinda fucked up. it’s like they don’t want their kid to be traced back to them.
<b>me:</b> i cast wizardcraft<p/><b>dm:</b> what the fuck is that<p/><b>me:</b> it's like. its a spell that makes a wizard<p/><b>dm:</b> do you... do you need to roll for it?<p/><b>me:</b> no i just do it. there's a wizard now his name is billy<p/></p>
in the time you spend actively hating content creators and stalking their every move, you really could just be off creating the things that you would rather see instead. take that passion and work on creating what you think would be more fulfilling things for people to fall in love with.
if not, at least quit driving more needless negative energy into the world
Once a sick kid, and now a soldier, the possibility of imminent death is something Steve's had to grow accustomed to. Turns out, a sacred, somewhat odd nightly ritual, helps him cope.
It had been strange at
first, after the serum, to find out how deep a ‘deep breath’ really was.
He was lying on his back
in his bed in Stark Tower and no matter where or when he was, nothing was as
comfortable and as comforting as that last breath before winding down into his
His mother had started it;
he never remembered a time when she didn’t sit with him, hand on his back and
breathing slow and deep with him before mentioning three things she was
grateful for and one happy memory, before another three deep breaths. Sometimes, they were grateful it was sunny, and
sometimes they were grateful they were Irish and sometimes they had such nice
neighbors. Sometimes it was bigger
things, being grateful for being able to eat dinner or have heat. They were always grateful, Sarah would always
say, for second chances. A new one, every day, my dear, was what
she always said every evening.
Steve took in his third
deep, deep breath and held it for a slow count to ten before releasing it
slowly. Eyes still closed, he thought
for only a few moments before murmuring to himself:
“I’m grateful for the
trust of my teammates. I’m grateful for
belonging. I’m grateful for second
chances; a new one, every day.”
He paused again for
several moments before continuing:
“Singing in the car with Rhodey after his PT appointment this week made me really happy, because I didn’t think he’d smile or laugh for a couple days. It was a rough appointment and I admire him and he can really sing him some Sly and the Family Stone.”
Steve went quiet, taking
three more slow, deep breaths, and drifting off to sleep.
To everyone who sent sweet messages about the porn gif drabbles: thank you! I will be answering them as soon as I get a free second.
To the one nasty anon who tried to ruin it: congratulations! It worked. I’m not going to post your message because it was by far the most disgusting hate I’ve received. But you accomplished your goal. I’m out.
I will finish these drabbles another day, when I’m feeling better. In the meantime, I’m sorry to everyone who was looking forward to them.
Ik theres this big cringe trend lately, but if its just kids having harmless fun and arent doing any damage ( harrassing, stealing, overbearing strangers, etc) just let them be
Nothing sucks more than having a good time, that isnt distressing anyone, and to be ridiculed for it. Remember that while it isn’t your place to babysit anyone it’s also not your place to ruin a good experience
He just couldn’t sleep lately. Every time he’d shut his eyes and try to focus on anything besides the malice, his mind would run right back to it again. She was quiet next to him, huddled up in an old, Hello Kitty quilt. She looked so peaceful, so at ease with her face buried in the pillows, eyebrows furrowed together intently as if they were meant to be that way. Even in her sleep she was thinking about something, and Kei couldn’t help but wonder what.
“What’s on that beautiful mind of yours, hm?” He caught himself whispering, his shaky hand reached for her forehead but stopped halfway there. “Whatever it is, it’s surely not this horror story I’m dealing with.” He finally let his fingertips brush against her, taking in her everything for a moment before backing away, slipping out of bed to do something about the nasty migraine he’s been hosting all night. The hardwood floor was freezing underneath him, the moon and only the brightest of pollutant beating stars still prominent way up in the sky. Sometimes he just disregarded medicine all together and sat on the balcony, taking in the comfort from the sky above and the empty streets below. He’d sit down on a cast iron patio chair, and lay his arms across the cast iron railing and lay his head down, closing his eyes against the force of the gentle harbor breeze. Sometimes he wondered how he even got here, with his head full of nightmares and his heart full of sorrow. Thousands and thousands of miles away from home, Five thousand, two hundred, sixty seven miles to be exact, and for what? Five thousand, two hundred, sixty seven miles away from home to run away from some distant memory, hoping in that distance, the pain would get lost along the way. He was happy now, truly, and he thought back to her in the bed, just twenty feet away, soon to be fifteen, then five, then zero, because he knew she couldn’t sleep without his presence, and even in the worst days she’d follow him out to the balcony, pull out a chair next to him, and sit there, holding his hand until he wanted to go inside. It was always like that, and part of him loved it. Was it romantic? Quite possibly, if insomnia was put in the retrospect of being romanticized. Fisherman started undocking their boats on the canal down below, shouting at each other in a language Kei couldn’t quite comprehend. They didn’t notice him, but he watched them, his fingers tracing lazy circles around the bar on the railing as their foreign conversation dragged on, dragging his interest with him. Behind him, the balcony door squeaked, and even though he knew exactly who the perpetrator was, he still jumped, the iron chair rattling underneath him. She giggled, wrapping her warm, tired arms around his neck from behind, her lips toying at the nape of his neck.
“Hey, it’s just me…” She cooed, and Kei took the opportunity to sigh.
“I know…” He grabbed her hand and held them closer to his chest. He always wondered why her hands were always so cold, yet the rest of her was always so warm. He said nothing as he placed them over his heart, goosebumps prickling along his bare arms. It was only fifty degrees, yet fifty degrees was warm for a place like this, especially at the break of dawn. She didn’t even bother to sit next to him today, just holding him as time ever so slowly passed by.
“Do you want to go back to bed?” She muttered after some time, lethargy still hinted in the very crevices of her voice. He wanted to tell her that it was stupid of her to even follow him out here in the first place, that she didn’t need to, that she could just stay by herself inside until his pity party subsided. She wouldn’t listen, though, she never did. He liked to say she was as stubborn as she was beautiful, sometimes. He tilted his head back and looked into her eyes for the first time that morning, the soft gaze and knowing eyes enough to melt his heart all over again. He nodded, letting go of her hands over her chest and sulking back inside, sparing one last glance to the lost fishermen on the canal.
She burrowed herself under the same Hello Kitty quilt as before, pulling him closer and draping it around his shoulders. He sighed, part of him feeling ridiculous, usually he wanted that thing kept as far away from him as possible, but now that it practically engulfed him, he couldn’t help but lean into the solace of its warmth. She spared him a chuckle, cupping his head in her hands and kissing the corner of his lips in the singular way that made his head spin. Her fingertips were still cold, but her lips were ever so warm, and goosebumps broke out on his skin once more.
“You’re being oddly affectionate today…” He croaked, leaning in to notion that he only wanted more.
“Is it a crime to kiss my boyfriend now, Tsukishima Kei?”
“If it was a crime, I wouldn’t mind going to prison.”
“Oh.” She peeped, quietly before breaking out into giggles. “That was horrible. You really do need to sleep, baby, replenish your wit before you say that to me ever again.”
Kei found himself laughing, burying himself deeper into the quilt on top of him. He still looked up at her, the sudden sunlight filtering through the blinds making him squint even more than he was before. The softness of the light that casted through made her look like an angel, he thought, an absolute divine deity. Although she had bags that made her look like she had received two black eyes and frizzy bed head that was only more prominent against the light source, she looked perfect to him.
“I love you.” He said with a hoarse voice, under the blankets. She looked straight at him with amused eyes, blinking ever so slowly until they shut, and she leaned over to kiss him. He melted into it, his hand heavy against the side of her torso.
“I love you too.” She muttered, between a broken kiss. “More than you could ever imagine.”