i post whatever the hell i want

A little bird tells me that yours truly, Eli “Weevil” Navarro Esquire, is being “featured” this week on VMHQ. What the hell is a VMHQ? 

Originally posted by -veronicamars

Personally, I’m a little wary of putting my name out there where anybody can search on it, but to each his own.   V tells me I have no choice if I want her help with… that thing.

So do whatever, as long as you’re not posting ‘cute baby Eli photos’ or anything with that mullet from fifth grade.  And you make sure to tell V that I’m being COOPERATIVE.

But for the record… I WAS a pretty damn cute kid, see?


My week begins Monday, March 27th, and runs though Sunday, April 2nd. Watch for a “Character Sound Off” post on Monday.

I wonder what kind of poll questions they’ll ask about me.  I can answer one of them ahead of time - I do NOT wear reindeer boxers (unlike certain other people I won’t name).  

If you don’t want VMHQ followers to be bored to death, you’ll post your meta, your ficlets, artwork and fanvids.   Remember to tag every post with #VMHQ Weevil Week

I may even make it a point to come back here and check.  Or not.  

Originally posted by bansheecommathe


Get ready for the #ClexaWeek2017! From February 27th to March 5th each day will have a different theme to celebrate Clexa.

  • How can I join?

You can write fanfics, make fanart, edits, aesthetics, gifsets, music, games and whatever the hell you want. If you don’t have any artistic skill, you can even make fic rec lists for each day! You just have to post on the right day and tag it with #ClexaWeek2017, or you can send submissions to @clexaweek2017

For any other info, guidelines, suggestions and to keep up with #ClexaWeek2017, follow @clexaweek2017

  • Now go and share it!

Tell your favorite writers and artists about it, start the preparations. And let’s celebrate everything we love about this ship. One year ago the 3.07 may have happened, but they’ll never take Clexa from us.

I HAVEN’T SEEN IT BUT I’LL DO MY BEST also the roommate sitch heavily inspired by @bullysquadess’s roommate au

  • because, you know, of course it’s Ikea
  • they found out each other’s identities years ago, when they were like 15 or 16, and now they’re 22 and they really deeply crave independence
  • or, well, Marinette does
  • Adrien moved out the second he turned 18, and now lives off his trust fund in some ridiculous high-rise condo all alone and living off takeout
  • both of these facts come up in a conversation on patrol
  • the conversation goes something like this:
  • Marinette look… I can cook…. I will cook you whatever the hell you want if i don’t have to pay rent… I will be your live-in servant of I don’t have to pay rent…
  • Adrien: you don’t even have to cook just keep me company god they won’t even let me keep fish I am so alone
  • Marinette: ……when was the last time you ate something that wasn’t takeout
  • Adrien: ……………um…
  • Marinette: ….I’ll cook.
  • and so it begins
  • but the thing is, in the four years Adrien’s lived in that apartment, he never managed to buy a couch
  • he doesn’t even have box-springs for the mattress on his floor
  • he has a mattress, a refrigerator, a kitchen that came with the apartment, a desk, and a chair
  • Marinette just looks at him
  • you cannot live like this, her eyes say
  • yes, mistress, say Adrien’s
  • so
  • Ikea
  • they have a condo to furnish (9’-’)9
  • the first pun sneaks up on them while they look through the selection of bed frames
  • ………………..you’re going to have to imagine the puns because I’ve never seen the video and I don’t remember which language Ikea product names are in and by god I am terrible at coming up with puns
  • but yeah
  • chat puns
  • bugaboo snickers
  • they move on
  • the second hits when they pass by the little kids slide and Adrien needs to attempt to slide even though his legs alone are longer than the tiny slide
  • it’s probably some pun on the Swedish word for children and Ladybug’s better nature but I wouldn’t know
  • Marinette is left covering her face with her hands and torn between pretending she doesn’t know the asshole in the kids area and laughing helplessly
  • those puns really are much more funny when she’s not worried he’s going to spend more time thinking of them instead of thinking about staying out of mortal danger
  • somehow, Adrien comes into his own in the midst of trying out the recliners
  • Marinette has to remind herself that they are in the middle of a store and someone has to keep them on track, or they’ll just end up giggling their way out of the door with no more furniture than when they started
  • or, worse, it’ll be uncoordinated
  • Marinette will not abide by an uncoordinated living space
  • his pun game steps up around the shelves
  • with the shelves come the examples of living spaces and, as much as she loves him, Marinette can’t resist a few jibes
  • “would you look at that?” a mock gasp. “so much furniture! wow Adrien, maybe you should close your eyes. i wouldn’t want you to get overwhelmed or anything.”
  • “my lady, you don’t need to put me on a shelf. I might look free-floating, but I assure you I’m quite well-braced.”
  • oh my god you doofus”
  • look basically they’re the most ridiculous newlyweds-slash-best-friends to ever go furniture shopping
  • and they’re not even together yet
  • when they finally get to the warehouse, it takes them too many trips to get it all out the door
  • and then they have to drive it all back and take it up to Adrien’s seventh-floor apartment
  • they give up halfway through and pass out on Adrien’s floor mattress
  • it ends in cuddles

To anyone who says “[Character] is [insert]sexual and everything else is wrong because I said so! uwuwu”

To anyone who says “[Character] is obviously [insert gender identity here], so if you’re viewing them differently, you’re the worst uwuwuwu”

To anyone who harrasses others and/or talks shit about them because they headcanon something differently and thus, want to invalidate these people’s opinions in any way.

So, I know everybody’s scared and upset now...

How about the next few days I write a SHITLOAD of fluffy fics? I’ll sideline NaNoWriMo for a few days (It’s okay, I can catch up, it’s only week 2) and just write the hell out of some fluff.

WHAT do you want to see? Do you want me to make the Coldflash mpreg into a series? That little slice of life I posted was meant to stand alone if it needed to, but I can make it a series.

Do you want fluffy Malec? I’ll write you fluffy Malec.

Like-an-old-married-couple Saphael? DONE! Just give me the word.

Fuck, for you guys right now, I’ll go back and write STEREK again. I will write you a fluffy sterek fic. 

Marvel pairings? Give me a Marvel pairing and I’ll give you a fluff fic.

Whatever you ask, I will do my VERY BEST to write for you… let’s say by Friday. This weekend at the latest. I’ll be sure to link you when it’s done. 

Reblog this around because some people may not realized I’m heartsdesire456, but that is me. heartsdesire456. If you’re in any of these fandoms (and many more) you’ve probably read something of mine on MY AO3 and I’m offering you guys fluff to make this week however much less painful I can.


Edit: THANK YOU! Remember to tag them #Fluff Not Fear or #FluffNotFear on twitter so I can add them to the MASTER POST!


you know what?

i’m not done.

lil history lesson for the beeblockers in the audience who weren’t around post-s2 and pre-s3 (or any hints about same): the mary hate didn’t start after HLV.

the mary hate didn’t start after TSoT.

the mary hate didn’t start after TEH, or after setlock, or after whatever the hell point you’ve seen ppl use to justify their And After That, Well, Of COURSE We Had To Speak Up About How ~Problematic~ This Character Was, I Mean, Anyone Who Could Enjoy This Fictional Human Clearly Lacks A Moral Center, Anyway Enough Unpleasantness Here’s A Rec Post Of My Favourite Holmescest Fics.

the mary hate started when yall heard the show would involve mary at all.

i know. i was there. people i used to consider friends posted hate, including that they wanted “THAT woman” to die ASAP, on the same day of the “hey there will be mary” announcement.

when ppl, including me, pointed out that uh all we knew about her character was that she was a woman, so hating her based on

  1. she is a woman
  2. getting her yucky vajayjay all over your media

was misogynist as yikes, we were dismissed as Fandom Police. we couldn’t MAKE people like her just because she was a woman!! in fact, that made us the REAL misogynists!!! like, GOD, how stupid could we be!!1!?

it went downhill from there.

pre-s3, if you were excited about mary, in public, you could pretty well count on at least one person chiming in with BUT THE STORY IS ABOUT JAWN AND SHELROCK HOW CAN MAKE ROOM FOR MARY TRICK QUESTION U CAN’T MY OTP EVERYTHING IS RUINED. (i mean, imo, everything is ruined at the outset because the writers can’t pace or emotional thru-line their way out of a well-lit paper bag; mary “ruins” the story much as same-sex marriage “ruins” marriage in that opposite-sex couples, like the writers, do just fine ruining everything on their own.)


post-s3, if you were still excited about mary, fandom was fucking unbearable. i didn’t have it anywhere near as bad as lots of others and it was still unbearable. i stopped being part of the fandom. i deleted and orphaned my jawnlock fics. sometime after the fucking thing that got its own fucking tag - and, more tear-out-what-was-left-of-my-hair-fully for me, after fandom could not collectively agree that a) there were sides and b) one of them was REALLY DEFINITELY WORSE THAN THE OTHER - i packed up the last of my shit and got the hell out of the sandbox.

so here, on Weekend Of Last Ep For A While Possibly Ever Eve, i tell you: each and every one of you who spat bile about mary, who thought fargolockgate was a tempest in a teapot and anyway seeing john beat mary to death with a hammer was kinda hilarious amirite, who clutched your pearls and whined about The Integrity Of The (Whitedude) Story, who concern trolled mary fans because omg surely no decent person could like her, who speculated for YEARS that mary was evil, mary was cheating on john, mary was only pretending to be pregnant, mary meant to kill not wound sherlock, john and sherlock were plotting to kill mary and become a couple, the showrunners made it all perfectly clear right there in the subtext, it would all come true and we “bitter has-beens” would be proven wrong and what a great and righteous day that would be -

- every last one of you can fuck right off. if you don’t like what the show gives you… if you don’t like what what’s left of the fandom can do to reinvent it… then i leave the last and, fittingly, frustration-mangled word to jiminy cricket:

“you buttered your bread… now sleep in it.”

Ok, I miss shit-posting Yoi so … take this terrible piece of my rotten imagination lmao …

So, I was talking to my friend Alex on skype about how stupid ship hate is and how everyone is entitled to like whatever they want, and how you can’t even control what you like, because it just happens etc blublub …

Anyway. I’m a demonic multishipper from hell, so I can most likely ship anything you throw at me - except …

Well, except, I thought, Yakov Feltsman with anyone but maybe his ex-wife Lilia since there might still be some unresolved tension between these two. But, well, it’s not exactly something I would necessarily need to see fanart and read fanfic for. 

But then, realization suddenly struck me like a lightning.

Of couse!

How did I not see it before? I was blind, but all of a sudden, I could see the light. And I want to enlighten you, too, my beautiful children.

Open your hearts to the stunning beauty that is 

or in other words Yakov Feltsman x Nikolai “Kolya” Plisetsky.

Just imagine them :)

They’d be all lovey-dovey. Hugging and stealing little kisses whenever they think noone will notice. But Yuri does notice. And it’s so bad that he will voluntarily seek refuge at Yuuri and Viktor’s. Coz as bad as these two are, his coach and his gramps being all over each other is so much more than he can take.

But he doesn’t want them to stop either because he loves his grandpa so much and just wants him to be happy. Also, he really trusts Yakov and respects him a big deal, otherwise he wouldn’t have trained under him. But - so help him god! - Yuri will kick the old geezer’s ass if it ever comes to his ears that Yakov doens’t treat his gramps right. Aaaaaw <3 <3 


(I decided to post this outside my reblog from @language-princess to keep better track of it)

Keep reading

Whatever the Hell it is

Thomas x Reader

@allofthefanfiction Saw your post, thought that you might like to be tagged


“My dear Y/N, can I speak with you for a moment?” Your courter Thomas asked.

“Of course Thomas, is there something wrong?”

“My dear, I’m afraid that I have to go back to America. I cannot stay in France any longer,” he admits to you, taking your hand.

You froze.

“You’re leaving?” you asked him sadly.

“Yes,” he starts. “But I want you to come with me.”

He gets down on his knee, holding your hands in his.

“Please Y/N, come back to America with me. We can marry as soon as we arrive, I promise that I will take care of you.”

A few tears started to fall from your eyes.

“Of course Thomas. Nothing would make me happier.”


It was definitely a time for change. You were only in Thomas’ home Monticello for a few weeks before he was called to New York for work.

He worked hard while you got used to America.

But eventually you were bored of just sitting at home.

“Thomas can I please come visit your work with you sometime? It’s so boring sitting around here all day,” you complained to him.

He gave a small chuckle and kissed you on the head.

“If you really want to, you can come with me tomorrow to the next cabinet meeting,” he suggested.

You shot up and nodded eagerly.


He laughed again.

“Alright, I’ll take you with me.”


The two of you were now on your way to the meeting, and you were bouncing in your seat, Thomas staring at you with amusement.

“My dear I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so excited to go to a meeting!”

“It’s just so great to be able to see the rest of the city!”

He laughed again, then pulled you in for a deep kiss.

“Well let’s go,” he said.

You both walked hand in hand into the meeting hall, and you took a seat in the crowd. You were ready to watch Thomas kick some butt.

He was going up against someone named Alexander Hamilton, someone who Thomas seemed to despise.

Oh well.

But if you were to be honest, you didn’t pay attention to what they were saying at all, you were more focused on the people in the room. You wanted to immerse all that you could into your brain.

All of the sudden you turned back to the argument just in time to hear Hamilton say,

“Would you like to join us or stay mellow, doin’ whatever the hell it is you do in Monticello.”

You started to laugh, quietly at first, trying to hide it, then in big sounds.

Hamilton stopped and stared at you, Thomas standing behind him with a smirk on his face.

“Is something funny miss?” He asked annoyed.

You stood up and smirked, making your way to stand over by Thomas. You took his arm and gave him a quick kiss before turning back to Hamilton.

“I’m whatever the hell it is.”

ok, it’s basically my life motto to avoid Discourse™ like the plague (especially here on tunglr) unless entirely necessary, but this shit abt the latinx portrayal in d–irty laundry has really peeved me so this is all i’m gonna say on the matter:

Keep reading

When a side character in the book you’re writing starts to take over the story and suddenly you want to write their book more than the one you’re supposed to me working on

Originally posted by procrastinationoutlet

NurseyDex: Different Colors

Inspired by this Tumblr post: http://knowaczerny.tumblr.com/post/154078165214/this-is-something-that-has-been-bothering-me-for-a

“Nursey, what the hell man, it’s like three am,” Dex whined as Nursey flipped on the light in the Haus livingroom (Dex had been crashing there to help Chowder study). It was a Saturday night, and Dex really did not want to deal with Nursey’s slam poetry angst, or whatever he was going to rant about today.

“First off, it’s eleven. Second, we’ve been putting off a talk we really need to have.”

Dex sat up at this, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His blue sweatshirt was wrinkled. “What’s up?”

“Look, this has been bothering me for months. Please do not get defensive, but I need to talk to you about your white privilege. Before you say anything, I understand that being poor is a sucky thing to go through. I know I have a monetary privilege over you, and I respect that. Trust me, I am not saying I have not had an easier life monetarily. But you always seem to forget that, unlike you, I am biracial. I am not white, and that’s a scary thing, Dex. It really is–”

“Nursey, look–”

“Please let me finish. I need to explain this so you can understand where I am coming from when I get frustrated okay?  

“My mama checks the news every night to make sure my name is not listed as a hate crime victim. My father is a black man. He gets stares anytime he goes into a gas station for a candy bar. He can’t get a damn candy bar without people thinking he’s dangerous.

“As for me I was bullied a lot, Dex. For my skin, for my hair, for my accent and way of talking. Things I couldn’t control. That’s when I started writing poetry, when all the anger just couldn’t be sealed anymore. It helped, a little. But one day I was cornered after school. These big white boys beat me so bad I couldn’t move. My mama came to the school to pick me up and found me there. She found me covered in my own blood, Dex. I was helpless. I was, I was eight at the time. So she put me in hockey to help me get stronger.

“So I played, bulked up a bit, and could protect myself. Mostly, anyway. My mama was finally starting to feel like I could start to do things on my own again. Luckily nothing quite that bad has happened since then, but I am afraid it will. I am so, so afraid.

“I am scared whenever I see a cop. I have to put my head down and hope he doesn’t notice me. I am constantly afraid that one day I will be killed by a cop for doing nothing. Dex, you don’t have to deal with this. You don’t have to worry about the cops upholding your rights, or have to feel fear whenever anyone looks at you funny. You don’t have to live in the constant fear of death, and I do,” Nursey turned away and bit his lip harshly. He was not going to cry in front of Dex.

“That’s not even to mention that my mama’s muslim, and is constantly being turned away service. People think she’s a terrorist, and that’s scary, because I keep thinking that my mama’s going to get killed by some damn Trump supporter with one too many guns.

“But this in no way undermines the fact that you don’t come from a family of money. You’ve had your struggles, but I really hope you can see where I was coming from in the past now,” Nursey finishes and turns toward Dex, whose eyes are as wide as saucers.

“Nursey,” Dex began, “I really had no idea. I really hope you didn’t think that I was in anyway trying to be racist, it’s just,” Dex trailed off not knowing how to put how he was feeling into words.

“Growing up in a small suburban town filled with nothing but white people you don’t really think about race? Where I come from all that mattered was money, and I guess that I didn’t really think too much about race coming here either. Like now I see that your struggles were hard, but back then I just thought money equaled happiness and privilege. Nurse, I just, I’m sorry. I really am, for what I said. For, for being ignorant. For making you feel like you weren’t safe. We’re D-men, we have to have each other’s backs, and I hope you know if anyone ever makes a racist remark to you I will not hesitate to jump in and stop them.”

Nursey’s eyes let the unshed tears fall down his cheeks in slow rivers. No one had ever said that to him. No one had ever told him anything like that before. No one promised to protect him from other people, and it made Nursey’s heart flutter just a bit. Nursey let out a strangled sigh, and Dex pulled him into a hug.

“I know I can never understand what you’re going through, but by god Nursey I am going to try and help you. Let me into your head every now and then, okay? I like this better than fighting.”

“Me too, Dex. I really like this better than fighting.” They fell asleep like that, on the disgusting vomit-green couch, in each other’s arms.

Undertale Valentine's Day 2017 Collection Challenge! | Archive of Our Own
Daaaaaamn Raven, back at it with the holiday collections.
By Organization for Transformative Works

Regardless of your stance on the holiday, Valentine’s Day is fun as hell to write about, character-wise. There are hundreds of tropes, imagine-your-otp posts, and opportunities for snarky or heart-warming banter.

Please, if you want to, consider joining me again in this new challenge! This one has an even more in-depth FAQ, so feel free to take a look!

As last time, I encourage you to reblog this and tag your fandom friends or writers you appreciate and love, share this on Discord, or whatever you’d like to share it on.

And please don’t be worried about due dates, as I’m leaving the collection open! Life is demanding sometimes, so I totally understand prioritizing life and health over contributing.

@summerbxy @natiforrn @rileywrit @smallpersiankitten @ice-cream-salad @darkcrystaldemon @maximum-overboner @mercyisnotasignofweakness @life-sans-sin @ktfcreator, just for starters!

@undertalepositivityproject can you please spread the word and the love? Maybe tag some people you’d love to see participate?

“whatever you believe, this man, this thing is not an angel!” yeah I changed the word on purpose to suit it!

I’m going to sleep… 5:28 am already.. But! I wanted to post this first, why the hell I didn’t post it with my sign on twitter? I’m falling asleep, my brain’s not working how it’s supposed to! So.. , this was inspired by @ceejles Phantom of the opera AU.. Why can’t I tag? I have no clue… Anyway! Since she drew an amazing Adrien/Phantom and Marinette/Christine, I had the thought at midnight of… What if.. Nathaniel=Raoul? So… That’s what happened! I’m not good I know but I tried! So, here’s my version of Nathaniel = Raoul!!

P. S…. I might change the cross once I wake up..

hi!! i’m back oops! basically the semester ends in two weeks and i’ll have loads of free time to just do whatever the hell i want, so i figured why not invest a little more in this blog & all you lovely people who follow me. so this is happening.

R U L E S 

  • mbf me
  • reblog this post (likes count as bookmarks!)
  • must get at least 30 notes!!
  • ends on december 23rd


  • andrew minyard award: best tfc url
  • adam parrish award: best trc url
  • blue sargent award: best icon
  • allison reynolds award: best desktop theme
  • dan wilds award: best mobile theme
  • kevin day award: best posts
  • noah czerny award: best creations*
  • richard gansey award: best writing*
  • renee walker award: fan favorite** 
  • neil josten award: personal favorite

* - put your creation/writing tags in the tags

** will be chosen by other bloggers through a poll

P R I Z E S 


  • a follow from me, if not already
  • a spot on my updates tab for a month
  • 3 creations/writing prompts for whatever subject you want, whenever you want (though i’ll need time to make them & i reserve the right to say no if something makes me uncomfortable)
  • unlimited promos upon request for a month

runners up:

  • a follow from me, if not already
  • a spot in my updates tab for a month
  • a writing prompt for whatever subject you want
  • 3 promos upon request for a month
let's talk about Bucky’s brain

I dunno if anyone’s done this before but whatever. Specifically, I want to talk about Bucky’s brain in relation to the cannibalized MRI thing they strapped on his noggin in CA:TWS. Like what the hell is that thing, how old is it, what are you trying to do HYDRA, is this one of those weird dryer things you stick your whole head in at the hairdresser’s? They have had 70 years to perfect this technology and it looks like a high schooler’s science fair project. There aren’t even any electrodes. Seriously there should be electrodes not only because they’re kind of necessary for this sort of thing but also because who would object to Bucky Barnes looking totally punk rock with a partially-shaved head? No one, that’s who.

But I guess let’s just assume the plate things themselves are in contact with his head and transmitting the charge themselves. Okay. That’s a big area they cover and approximately zero opportunity for finesse, so they can’t localize the damage at all. And there’s still all that hair in the way. But whatever, I’ll shut up about the hair.

So the plate things are basically concentrated on the prefrontal cortex, which is at the very front of the brain, behind the forehead where the plates are located. I mean there looks like there are plates going around around the back of the head but if it only goes as deep as the cerebrum they don’t want to damage anything back there because it’s all motor skills and balance and sensory perception and language centers, all of which were vital in the Winter Soldier’s functioning. 

So yeah, the prefrontal cortex seems to be what they’re targeting, and the prefrontal cortex is for short term memory and decision making. However, it would be indescribably stupid to damage short term memory retention, so I don’t think they’d just fry the entire prefrontal cortex. Especially if it could compromise his ability to make quick, logical decisions in the field because the prefrontal cortex is important for logic and impulse control. So I would assume that they’re targeting the connections between the short term and long term memory storage systems rather than taking away his short term memory altogether. 

Basically, recalling a memory that’s stored in long-term is just the brain returning it to the short-term memory center, or the working memory, concentrated in the prefrontal cortex. From there your brain literally refires all the neurons that fired during that experience, without compromising awareness of current circumstances. So severing those connections between long and short term memory would not only stop him retaining new memories, it would stop him recalling old ones.

They could be messing with his long term memory, except there are no intracranial bits and bobs that could actually penetrate deeper than the cerebrum without frying everything in between, and the hippocampus and amygdala where long term memory is stored are in there deep. 

This picture doesn’t do justice to how deep in the brain the hippocampus and amygdala are, but it works well enough as a visual aid. You don’t want to damage the amygdala in a super soldier at any rate because that’s where the survival instincts are kicking around. Also, damaging the hippocampus on both sides of the brain would turn him into a potato, unable to retain any information at all, not even how to discharge his weapon, so you’d basically have to retrain him anew for every mission. And this contraption has clearly no finesse at all, as stated above, so I really don’t think they’d be able to destroy anything only partially or make any localized alterations.

And sure, maybe they actually opened up his head at some point in the past to get at long term memory storage, and the cryofreeze might stop that from healing, but I think the understanding of the brain was so ridiculously limited at that time that they didn’t really even know how to avoid excessive damage, and I don’t think they would have risked rendering one of their best assets brain dead. Honestly, I think the most likely thing they did was supplement the physical stuff with more traditional brainwashing and conditioning techniques.

So really, all Bucky needs to do is repair the connections between his long term and short term memory. Even with all this damage, the brain is adaptable even in normal humans. When certain parts are damaged, other parts can take over functioning in their stead. Although in this case, if the connections between long and short term memory were cut every time he went into the cryogenic chamber, he never would have stored any of the information gleaned as the Winter Soldier past the short term unless he managed to catch enough sleep to transfer those memories into long term storage before he got zapped or frozen again. So he would potentially remember everything about being Bucky Barnes fairly quickly, assuming his super soldier healing could repair those pathways or create new ones to compensate, and he would never remember most of his time as the Winter Soldier except what they wanted him to remember and let him encode before they took out those connections again. So basically, his combat training, his obedience training, and all that hydra indoctrination crap.

His old memories as Bucky would remain relatively pristine, because the more we view a memory the more current circumstances during the recollection alter it, and what you remember becomes less and less similar to what you actually experienced at the time. So instead of memories slowly changing and evolving as the person themself changes, which is what normally happens as we revisit memories and subtly alter them over time through new perception, Bucky would have this huge, disorienting, sickening divide between the well-preserved, untouched old memories of how he used to be and any new ones he managed to create as the Winter Soldier. The Winter Soldier memories will be less fleshed out, have more holes, be generally more ghost-like because of how they fucked with his brain and memories, so it would be easy for him to dissociate with them and to ignore them, but in order to ignore them Bucky would also have to ignore their consequences. He would be denying a part of himself. And he wouldn’t be able to deal well with their fallout, with the ways those experiences changed him, because he wouldn’t let himself examine them.

Honestly this is horrifying in its own way. All the fic I’ve read talks about how horrible it must be for the Winter Soldier to forget Bucky Barnes, but very little touches on how horrible it would be for Bucky to be all there and have a stranger in his head that he has few, dissociated memories of, but still retains a lot of that conditioning and finds himself acting like someone he doesn’t even remember being. He would feel betrayed by his own body and his own mind, doing things without knowing why he was doing them. I feel like not being the same Bucky as the one who went off to war would be so frustrating to him. Fics paint it as Steve being frustrated by the fact that Bucky’s no longer the same person, but I think Bucky himself would be far more frustrated by that fact than Steve. I think the fact that he’s not the same would bother him more than Steve’s longing for him to be the same, because he would understand that longing, share it even. I think he would dissociate from the foreign Winter Soldier part of himself, would try to bury it or force it out instead of facing it, would hate whatever memories he did retain from that time, because the Winter Soldier terrifies everyone but I think he would terrify Bucky most of all. And it would make sense, too. After all, the winter soldier was always supposed to be a ghost, the unseen threat, the silent killer, and I think, rather than inhabiting Bucky, the Soldier would haunt him, something he can’t prepare for or fight unless he’s willing to look through the dark to find it and confront it.

(All images blatantly stolen)

Js but I will actually die a premature death if, at the end of this all (i mean THE END the end) in like the last five minutes of the show Clarke and Bellamy are looking over their surviving people and then Bellamy says something like “what do we do now?” and Clarke looks over at him, totally straight-faced and says “whatever the hell we want” and then k i s s e s him and the camera just lingers on them wrapped in each other’s embrace for a moment as super intense music plays before slowly (and epically) panning away all the way into space where the music ends and it shows all that is left of the ark and there is a absolute silence for five to ten seconds where we just stare at the ark floating alone in space in peace and tranquility as we digest everything that has happened on this emotional ride of a show and then the camera cuts to black so we officially come full circle

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Inspired by: This amazing being right here.

Characters: Crowley x Reader.

Word Count: 528 words.

Triggers: None.

A/N: Honestly, I came across this little answer and my mind just went with it. It’s the first time I’ve posted my writing on Tumblr, but I couldn’t help it. It was an amazingly accurate answer!

“So what if you get her knocked up? What are you going to do then?” Dean questioned the King of Hell in front of him, his voice almost breaking in his concerned undertone.

Crowley looked at the oldest Winchester, eyes narrowing in a strange sense of contempt. Though it was a quality he was all to known for.

“Excuse me?” His voice was rough, almost jagged at the notion the Winchester was throwing at him.

“I’m saying,” Dean breathed, attempting to keep whatever emotions wanted to bubble up down in the pit of his stomach, “what if your friggin’ weird thing falls into something more? What if whatever the hell you two seem to have turns into creating something else?”

The last spit of his sentence was full of something almost similiar to disgust, if not fear disguised as venom.

The King of Hell stepped back, his face of contempt remaining ever so present. With dark furrowed brows, he studied the man in front of him. He watched the expressions that crossed Dean’s face for a good damn long minute before he even thought of speaking. Yet, when he did, it was a voice Dean knew rarely came from the demon lord. It was one of surprise, one that was coated with something almost too familiar to be fear, and one where the words became all to quiet for the boasterous demon.

“You want to know the truth Winchester?” He questioned, his tone almost threatening.

And then without a single warning, he stepped within what felt like inches of Dean, eyes reflecting something the hunter hadn’t expected— maybe hadn’t seen before in Crowley.

“I’d be scared out of my mind,” he said, his voice rasping with a swirl of unfamiliar emotions.

When Dean only swallowed his words, Crowley continued his coarse speech.

“I’ve tried fatherhood; I was shit at it.” He declared without missing a beat.

The Winchester couldn’t hold back speaking anymore, and caught the King off guard.

“What if it’s different this time? What if you have a chance to be there for that kid?” Dean’s eyes narrowed, and he met what little distance was between him and the demon. “What if you can make a different outcome this time, Crowley?”

There was a pause between the two men, a moment of absolute silence. Both wheels turned within the opposites mind. Dean stood with almost clenched fists, a jaw to match as he awaited any sort of response from the man before him. And in the cold chill of the air, Crowley stared right back, meeting his dark eyes with a stern glare.

And then he spoke, he spoke and his eyes softened before Dean’s and his voice became one that was soaked with guilt.

“What if I make the same mistakes?” He breathed. “What if giving birth kills her?” He may have questioned the Winchester, but he didn’t give him a moment to reply.

“I’d never forgive myself if that happened.”

And with that drop of strange guilt, the King of Hell vanished before the Winchester.

And Dean was left with clenched fists and a string of curse words that would never provide any closure.

Hanamaki jolts awake to the sound of screaming coming from Iwaizumi and Matsukawa’s shared bedroom.

He glances at the obnoxiously bright red numbers on his alarm clock. 3:43am. Fucking hell.

“Speaking of which,” Hanamaki tiredly grumbles as he pounds on the wall. “It’s 4am! We all have work tomorrow! So stop fucking and go to bed already!”

The screaming stops and Hanamaki silently thanks whoever’s out there watching over him as he flops himself back down into his pillow. If it was that easy, why didn’t he do it weeks ago?

“Oh good, he’s awake!” He hears Matsukawa exclaim from the other side of the wall.

His eyes snap open in fear. He regrets ever moving in with them.

He can also make out the stomping of feet in the hallway leading to his room, and he’s internally screaming when he hears his door handle jiggling and slams open to reveal–

“Wake up bitch!”

The overhead light is suddenly flicked on and Hanamaki actually starts screeching and yanks the covers over his head to block his poor defenseless eyes from the brightness.

“Mattsun what the fuck!” He yells out hoarsely. He lowers the blanket a little to let most of his face peek out at him.

“We got- Hajime’s cousin—“ Matsukawa stutters excitedly as he waves his hands around, his phone in one of them. “She just sent us a photo!”

Hanamaki simply blinks, completely straight-faced as he rolls over from him and pulls the covers over his head again. “Photo of what.”

He yelps when Matsukawa bends over him to look at his blanket-covered face, holding out his phone for Hanamaki to look at.

“Matsu I swear to god if this is a fucking scare prank—“

“Just look!”

Glancing at the photo with sleep-heavy eyes, he glares at Matsukawa’s stupidly excited face and closes his eyes in frustration. “So you came in here at 4 fucking am screaming and turned on the equivalent to the sun in my room that nearly blinded me just to show me a picture of a stupid little bean?” He huffs in disbelief.

Matsukawa snorts loudly. Hanamaki cringes a little. “Nooo, Makki. It’s not a stupid little bean; it’s mine and Hajime’s perfect little bean.”

His and Hajime’s… what?

“Well, technically mine—“

What?” Hanamaki says, rolling over to face him, squinting his eyes.

Feet walking down the hallway can be heard, and Iwaizumi waddles in sleepily, eyes completely shut. Hanamaki thinks it’s cute.

“Shut up, don’t call me cute.” Hanamaki didn’t even realize he’d blurted that out. “And Issei, I dunno why you’re yelling at 4 in the morning,” he cuts himself off with a yawn. “but couldn’t that wait until tomorrow morning?”

“It is tomorrow morning,” both Matsukawa and Hanamaki reply at the same time.

His eyes are still closed but Hanamaki can tell he’s rolling them. “Shut up,” he repeats, “it’ll be tomorrow morning when I wake up. Again.”

“…Anyway,” Hanamaki says, changing the subject, “why did your dumb husband come in here to show me a picture of a bean?”

“Bean?” Iwaizumi scrunches his eyebrows curiously, cracking open an eye to gaze at Matsukawa’s phone.

Hanamaki pushes himself up to rest on his elbows as Matsukawa shows him his phone. Iwaizumi rubs his eyes and blinks them open, squinting against the brightness. They grow wide as he examines the picture; Hanamaki swears they started filling with tears.

“Does this mean…?” Iwaizumi whispers to Matsukawa, whose biting his lip and nodding excitedly. “Oh my god.”

Hanamaki is still completely confused. “Give me the phone.”

Matsukawa hands it to him and he looks at it again, actually scrutinizes it this time, and his eyes fully open in surprise.

It’s a sonogram. And that “stupid little bean” is gonna be his best friends’ baby.

Holy shit.

The room is silent for a few moments, save for Iwaizumi’s loud sniffing and when Hanamaki’s hand shoots into the air as he yells, “DIBS ON GODFATHER.”

“Nope,” both Matsukawa and Iwaizumi say in unison.


“Just for calling them a stupid little bean,” Matsukawa says as he walks out of the room with Iwaizumi, not even turning off the light, “you’re not gonna be their uncle.”

The door shuts and Hanamaki flops back down into his pillow.