#daily grump moments

[daily-grump-moments]

Day 147

⚠️LOUD SOUND⚠️

another classic from supermega

mod's favorites

#mod's favorite clips #arin handsome #arin hanson #danny avidan #dan avidan #game grumps #gg #ten minute power hour #10mph #10 minute power hour #matt watson #ryan magee #supermega #newlywed game #allie jean #arin and dan #daily grump moments #hall of grumps #jacksepticeye #sean mcloughlin

[kjhmyg]

blooming

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader trope: sunshine oc x grumpy jk au: florist!oc x tattoo artist!jk wc: 1k

a drabble request from anon for sunshine protector jk. honestly was doubting the capability of writing jk as a grump but anon, i hope i did it justice and i hope you like it! <3

the tiny bells attached to the entrance chimes as you enter the shop, the smell of fresh flowers greeting you so kindly in the morning. the hour leading up to opening is one of your favourite parts of the day. your flowers are your babies; you sing to them, you change their water, place them gently back into their little spaces, assemble new bouquets to put up for sale, then choose which ones go up front on the daily display.

upstairs, you hear the clinking and clanking of your neighbours. the tattoo parlour above starts a little later than your flower shop, usually seeing their first customer around noon. an unlikely combination, one which leaves most of their clients confused as they step inside, till you point out the steps to the right of your shop which leads up to the parlour. 

but you don’t complain. it brings a nice mix to your client pool. besides, your other favourite part of the day is getting to see your favourite tattoo artist. 

“ahem⎼”

you turn on your heel, snapping out of your thoughts. putting on your best service voice, you were ready to greet a customer, only to find the next best thing. “oh,” your face softens, “good morning jungkook.” 

“morning.” he leans against your counter and nods to the spread of flowers laid out on the long table behind you. “are those flowers that interesting? didn’t even hear me come through the doors, did you?”

“sorry,” you smile brightly, and he can’t help but to mirror it. “i was looking through this customer’s request. it’s a little odd.” 

“why?” 

“because see,” you bring the request ticket over from the table and lean over the counter so he can see it, “these flowers don’t go well together at all. and i know, i know, it’s a custom order. but as a florist, i should be able to tell them if i think it’s not a good combination right? i mean the colours are all over the place. look, you can’t have too many bold colours together, it’ll take away the beauty from each flower. plus it'll look so messy. but at the same time it’s their choice and they are paying for it so i don’t know.” 

jungkook looks at you with a blank expression. his arms are crossed on the counter, and his freshly washed hair rests nicely on his shoulders, curved at the ends. 

“what?” you ask him, shrugging like you didn’t just spit out an entire rant contemplating someone’s custom order.

“is it really that deep?” 

you give him an exasperated look. of course he wouldn’t get it.

he raises a brow, then smirks at your silence. you’re never quiet. not for long anyways. for a moment he wonders if he's hurt your feelings. he tends to do that sometimes. “i’m sure you’ll figure it out. besides, bold colours can look good together.” 

“but not always.” you drum your fingers on the counter, pursing your lips in thought. 

jungkook keeps staring. till your eyes flutter back to him, and you lock eyes for far too long and your heart starts racing. he blinks away first. dropping his bag and leaving his helmet on your counter, he walks across your shop and takes a look around before plucking out four flowers. two yellow flowers and two black ones. 

“hey!” you protest, “those are expensive!” 

jungkook ignores your nagging. he places them on the counter top and pairs them up, one yellow daisy with one black hellebore. then he starts intertwining their stems, creating a tiny knot at the bottom for each pair. the yellow and black flowers sit nicely next to the other. “see? they look good together, don’t they?” 

he reaches over and places one of them into the front pocket of your apron. the other, he slides across the counter in front of you. 

“or maybe not,” he shrugs, “you’re the florist here.” 

“execution could be better,” you giggle, admiring the flowers in your palm, “but it’s cute. maybe you should rethink your career. come and work with me instead!” 

jungkook lingers just to watch the way your eyes twinkle as you twirl the flowers between your fingers. all he did was tie two flowers together, yet you act like a kid with a new toy. and when you look up at him again and give him the widest grin, he decides it’s time to go (else he’d spend the entire day down here). 

he starts collecting his belongings, swinging his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his headgear. “oh,” he says, remembering, “this is for you.” 

he’d placed the cup carrier aside earlier while talking to you. jungkook checks the order plastered on the side of the cup before placing it in front of you. 

“wait but,” you start, “i don’t drink cof⎼”

“it’s earl grey.” 

your smile drops momentarily out of surprise. you had mentioned a while ago how you couldn’t stand the taste of coffee. 

“later, flower girl.” jungkook makes a turn for the steps. 

after the first few steps, he pauses when he feels something tugging on his arm. he turns to find you standing there, with the flower he’d made earlier in your hand. getting on your tiptoes, you tuck his hair back and gently place the daisy and hellbore combination behind his ear. 

“aw, you look pretty!” his brows furrow and you know he’s probably going to remove it as soon as he makes it up the steps but you don’t care. you wrap around him briefly before letting go. “thank you.” 

before he can say anything else, the bell chimes and you welcome your first customer of the day. jungkook walks up the steps with a roll of his eyes, listening to how excited you get as you go through your collection of flowers. how you could be so chirpy at this hour, he’ll never understand.

upstairs, he drops his stuff in his corner and brings suga his cup of coffee while sipping on his own. the older friend, sanitising his tools for the day, stops mid-clean. “what the hell is that?”

he refers to the flower behind jungkook’s ear. “oh. nothing.” 

“ah…” suga smiles, accepting his drink. “you and flower girl have been getting along well.” 

“she’s nice to talk to.” jungkook says, not thinking much of it. suga scoffs, knowing his friend too well. 

jungkook walks back to his corner, removing the flowers. his hand hovers over the trash can, flowers in his palm. he looks at it again, then smiles. instead, he places them on his desk, right next to the pressed flower coaster you had given him months back. he chuckles, looking at the contrast of these items to the rest of his workspace. 

sighing, he starts his day, with a flower blooming in his heart.

#jungkook x you #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #it's been a while!!! #i forget how exciting it is to post

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Azriel being jeolous of His mate’s Fictional boyfriend 😅❤️

Bookish crush

You both are readers. I think that would be something you two would probably bond over. Something that might bring you closer. Get you talking. So the library or a hidden-away corner would be a place you two lingered a lot.

And most evenings it was you pressed against Azriel's chest. Each holding a book. It's such quality time. And knowing that you feel so comfortable in someone's presence that you don't even have to talk is priceless. Although, one of Azriel's hands would be moving through your hair, fingers twisting the ends of it.

Side note, why do I think that if you're super tired Azriel would get his shadows to hold the book for you? Like you could be tucked in a blanket, all snuggled up, maybe even against Azriel's side and the dark mist is just flipping through pages for you.

And Azriel knows about the smutty books that Nesta was giving out to every breathing female around her because Cassian is complaining on the daily how some imaginary dick is making his mate more blushy than he had ever seen. Just Azriel had never seen any of the similar covers among your book piles. Until the "infection" spreads.

It started rather innocently - Azriel walked in on you blushing. Cheeks so bright with crimson they almost looked on fire. He asked you if something happened but you kind of brushed him off, saying something about a cute date and how you suddenly had the urge to kick your feet up and down. Azriel had raised a brow at that but chose not to comment. But his observations stayed sharp.

Azriel is so aware of how your eyes grow big at times, how you just throw your head back, how you silently shout at the pages. He had heard you from another room once. A light screech that was followed by a handful of words that didn't make sense.

"That's it. What's this book about?", Azriel had broken the silence after watching you nearly combusting internally for about twenty minutes. His book now long forgotten. You didn't answer at first and that made Azriel frown slightly, "Y/N!", your eyes shot up as you muttered a quick, "Huh?"

"What are you reading about?", Azriel repeated his question, your eyes fell onto the pages, "Oh, just a love story", you breathed out almost a sigh, "enemies to lovers actually, and he's a grump". Azriel raised an eyebrow at you, "So why are you doing all of this?". Now it was your turn to crock your head to the side, "What this?"

Azriel said nothing at first. Just watching you. He wondered if he should mention it at all. Maybe you were just a reader who had a lot of expressions. "Well, why are you throwing your head up? Getting all giddy? Looking at that book like...", and Azriel stops because your cheeks are as crimson now as before. He moves forward, "Let me see,", "NO!", you nearly scream, making him stop. "Why not, come on...", Azriel tries to reach for the hardcover again but you press it closer to your chest.

"Just there's a male and he's... like very adorable", you blur out, "He's just uhh...", Azriel's big eyes watched you, "He's uhh... uhh? What does uhh mean?". You looked at Azriel for a moment, debating what to tell him. It was one thing talking about silly book crushes to the girls, completely different admitting it to someone you fancied in real life.

"Well... There's a male here", you tapped the cover of the book you were reading, "Tall, handsome, dark feathers. A true romantic. You could say a man written by a woman", your words sounded so true and honest that Azriel couldn't help but tighten his jaw. "And you're blushing because?", he asked casually. "Well... I fancy him like well no... not him... well the idea of that", you said messily and now Azriel was frowning. Did you fancy some bloke in a book? What did he have that Azriel didn't?

"Right... let me read it", Azriel reached for the book again. "No, Az, it is silly", you shook your head. "Well, no it is not. Because you fancy him and I've here been trying to smitten you for months but it doesn't seem to work so give me the book", Azriel blurred out and it felt as if he didn't mean to say most of it allowed. "You don't need to compete with him and for the record, I do like you", you mumbled, dropping the book to the side as you inched closer to the spymaster. His hands pulled you closer, "Still don't like that there is any version of a male that gets you all blushy", Azriel grumbled and you let out a chuckle, "Should I make you a list of things I like about him?", you teased and Azriel rolled his eyes. Yet his shadows were already tucking the book deep within their black swirl for an in-depth investigation later on.

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel imagine #acotar x you #acotar x reader #acotar imagine

[bruciemilf]

AU WHERE CLARK IS A GRUMP!!! JUST A RAINY CLOUD OF A MAN!!! I want older, exhausted, i- may- feed -on- sun- but- I -ain't- no sunshine- Clark Kent.

I think being constantly alienated and casted out and honestly, despised for being an alien yet saving the human race every Wendsay is bound to make the best of us a little hostile, -

do NOT get me wrong Clark loves his Ma and Pa, but he's mostly here because Diana keeps bullying him into it, and bc his parents happen to be apart of said species that thins his patience everyday.

LIKE-

This man is giving " Absolutely would yell at Parry White for trapping him in interviews with Lex Luthor even if he KNOWS Clark hates his guts" vibes. Living for it.

" TELL THAT FUCKING MORON THAT UNLESS HE PLANS TO SAVE 300 POLAR BEARS FROM MASS HOMELESSNESS, HE CAN SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT CLIMATE CHANGE!"

Bruce, literally shaking in his chair at the Daily Planet after Alfred grounded him with social interaction for patrolling late: hn

Clark is staring. Bruce can SWEAR there's a spot of red glowing in those ocean eyes before this titan of a man directs his attention to a tight-grinning Lois Lane, " What the fuck is HE doing here?"

" You were supposed to interview him today, remember?"

" It's honestly fine I can leave if he's busy"

" I'm not busy, Morticia Addams, I just don't wanna be around ANOTHER rich prick for hours- fuck it. Come on. I NEED to know how you knew Lex was swapping spit with those crooks from that laboratory. "

'' well some of us don't need to yell to get our point across"

" What?"

" Nothing"

Bruce of course follows Clark close and despite Clark expressing crystal clear " eat the rich and shit them out" energy, they still have a " excuse me, he asked for EXTRA blueberry" moment

ALSO GRUMPY TEAM DAD!! " Alright, which one of you failed condoms arranged this press conference? Was it you, Hal? I WILL make you hold that lantern while I fix the coffee maker again."

Arguing with Batman would be so much funnier. " You're a superpowered alien with unmatchable strength and anger management issues, of COURSE I have the right to worry!"

" Oh you fucking say that as if humanity hasn't been its own monster since, oh I don't know, - FOREVER? Maybe check your facts before you come at me, Bruce."

And Bruce is of course SHOCKED. " How-"

" I used my X-ray vision."

" You betrayed my trust!"

" Of course I did, we're not FOUR."

#he would cannibalize homelander so fast #superbat #clark kent #superman #batman #battinson #bruce wayne #justice league #dc #dc comics #angry supes daddy is angy #text #text post

[maykenin]

milk and honey

(a shitpost fic lol)—

18+ MDNI. gender-neutral reader, intense denny's maple syrup footjob, public sex, risky sex, dubcon, re2 leon. NOT PROOFREAD!! 400 words, 1.2k ch—

t; @acriixys, @rikibunny, @meowsiee

It was a lazy Sunday, you'd often head out with Leon to grab a bite or two at your local diner, all grumped and tired from your daily Saturday activities, you two find yourself needing a stack of pancakes the way you needed oxygen to live.

Leon groaned before grounding his face on the oak table, hunger gets the betterment of his emotions, you watched as his episode goes down. "Can't they bring in our food first," He whined, sure— he's understanding towards the staff, but hunger calls. You thought about this joke he's been sending you, something about a maple syrup footjob at diners, the thought had been lingering in your head for a moment; especially after he's been hinting at it for a few days now.

"Fine, pass me the syrup." You sighed, extending a hand while waiting. "What for? Our food isn't even here yet.." He raised an eyebrow, handing the bottle over to you.

His eyebrows furrowed, watching you go under the table, slowly sliding his sweatpants down, letting it rest around the apex of his thighs, his cock sprung almost immediately, you have him a sultry glance from below, giving him small kitten licks on the tip of his cock, practically glistening with pre; the gold syrup dripped from the tip down to the length, your tongue licked the strips back to his tip, coating his cock with the syrup, precum, and your spit.

You watched him squirm and shudder the moment you got back on your seat, giving him a casual look while your feet travelled to his crotch, a thick weight pressed on the sides of his cock, completely wrapping both your feet around his syrupy cock. "D- What are you..mnh.." The words died out on the tip of his tongue, slurring into incomprehensible nothings. "What'f someone mmight see us..mmh.." His eyes darted around the diner that was practically empty before turning his attention to you pleasing his throbbing cock, sitting on top of your toes while the sole of your other leg continuously massaged his shaft, almost massaging the golden syrup in. "B-baby, don't stop..m'so close.." He murmured, "G'nna cum, please baby.." His eyes were practically glued shut. "Yesyesyes, ohmhm.. t-yes.." Leon sputtered, his slow release left cum dripping down and alongside the honey; burying his face in his palms out of pure shame, but he needed that. You— being a thoughtful human being; handed him a napkin to clean himself up, a faint grin spread across your face like you hadn't done anything remotely wrong.

#leon kennedy #leon smut #leon kennedy headcanons #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fanfiction #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy x you

[astroboots]

Ok but this is ‘Homecoming’ Santi and Frankie getting up to no good while Reader is away on a work trip. They send her daily selfies as a way to distract themselves while she’s gone because they miss her so much. Most of the pics are sweet and flat out silly but some are *cough* nsfw. 😏

Gaaah Ozzie!! I'm so so sorry for how long this has taken! Thank you for sending me this glorious photo and making my day! I love you honey!

HOMECOMING DRABBLE: SEND NUDES

Summary/Author's notes: Santiago and Frankie are left to their own devices when you're out of town and get up to some road shenanigans. This is surprisingly PG-13 guys. Also have not proofread and wrote this within half an hour, please forgive me for the atrocious typo, it is what it is with these drabbles.

Word Count: 1700

Homecoming Masterlist | General Masterlist | More Drabbles

You: There's a man here who's been picking his nose for half an hour straight. Like he's digging for gold in the yukon river.

Santi: Teacher's conference sounds riveting, promise you'll take me next year.

You: 😒har har

"That Boa?" Frankie asks from the driver's seat.

Santiago hums in affirmation as he types out another quip in reply to you, "she's having a ball there apparently."

There's a bright barking laughter in reply from Frankie, "so long as she doesn't kill anyone in murderous rage, I'd call that a win."

Pocketing the phone away, Santiago looks up to the sight of the Florida landscape whizzing by outside the car window. It's green trees and pink-blue skies as the sun is setting over the horizon. It's pretty damn breathtaking. Santiago grew up in Florida and spent the better half of the 18 years it took for him to qualify as a legal adult before he took the first flight out for the military, and despite this he never knew that Florida could look like this. Leave it to Frankie to find something beautiful and joyous in a trashcan state like Florida.

The window on the driver's side is wound down and the slow easy breeze is flowing into the car, rustling through Frankie's hair. It makes the hint of silver in his hair shine against the setting sun and before he knows it Santiago pulls up his phone again, framing the sight and memorializing the image to keep forever.

"What are you doing?" Frankie asks. There's accusation in his tone as he quirks his eyebrow.

Way to ruin the romantic moment. Santiago doesn't know what he's ever done to earn such mistrust from the man for such an innocent, innocuous act like taking a simple photo of his own damn husband to be treated like it's plot of treason against the state.

"Don't get your panties in a twist Frank, I'm just taking a photo to send to the missus."

Santiago barely has time to send off the photo before his phone pings two seconds later to your enthusiastic approval.

You: GASP! 😍😍😍😍 more please!!!!

"She wants another picture," Santiago says, and Frankie frowns, the conflict plain on his face.

The man's always hated having his photos taken. He'll always be drawing down his cap, looking off into the far distance like he's been taken hostage and forced under gunthreat. Or he'll literally try to hide himself behind people as much as possible if it's a group photo. But the catch here is, Frankie can never say no to you. It's a Sophie's choice (Santiago thinks that's the appropriate expression, he never did see the movie. Two hours and a half is way too long).

"That's a no then?"

Santiago: Your husband is being a grump, no photos unfortunately.

You: What if I send a photo back? quid pro quo?

Santiago: I'm interested... Santiago: P.S. make it nude.

You: HOW?! I'm in a middle of a seminar with 200 other teachers?!

Santiago: 👍 you can do it. I have faith in you.

"Just one," Frankie's voice sound out, and Santiago's head shoots up in surprise.

"One?"

"Yes, one, just let me get some food in me first before you have your paparazzi shot."

Santiago grins, "deal."

There's a diner not ten minutes ahead, hidden and tucked away in the middle of nowhere, it's not even registered on Google as a business and Santiago has no idea where Frankie finds these places. They get the order to go, greasy food wrapped up in brown paper bags, and before the bags even make it to the counter and changes hands, Santiago can see the slick hot grease shine slick against the paper.

Then it's back in the car, into the thicket of a forest, the road is so small and cramped it looks like the branches are reaching out for the car. Santiago is pretty sure he's seen this scene play out in every horror movie introduction and he's just about to open his mouth and snark at Frankie asking, if the aim is to drive them to a famous murder spot of some serial killer, when the trees give. Suddenly it's bright, blue skies, and an even bluer lake ahead of them as Frankie stops the car.

It's a pretty idyllic dating spot... or make out spot.

Frankie shoves one of the takeout bags into Santi's arms, and residual heat and steam rises from it when he unwraps it. It should be a grease fest, instead it is the softest, most buttery, delicious thing that Santiago's ever had. The meat is juicy and with each bite, Santiago can't help but moan around it. "Fuck that's good."

Next to him, Frankie's grinning at him and Santiago realizes that Frankie's burger is untouched and Frankie's been observing him eat this whole time.

"What?"

"Nothing," Frankie answers, smile still wide as ever as he reaches over to unwrap his meal. "It's just been a good day with you today, that's all."

There's something under Santiago's skin that prickles with something close to restlessness, that familiar feeling of unease that comes with being observed and seen. Because if there's anyone who sees Santiago, for who he is and what he is, it's always been the man sitting right next to him. There would have been a time when that alone would have made Santiago open the passenger door and run to the hills.

It doesn't anymore.

"We should take that photo Boa asked for," Santiago says instead.

Frankie shakes his head, still chewing at his fries, and for once he's the one who is behaving like a sullen child. "Way to ruin a moment here, Pope."

"Oh come on," Santiago goads as he leans over, stretching out his phone far from his arm until Frankie is in view of the shot. There's still fries in his mouth, sticking out, and the man is clearly doing his best impression of a walrus.

But what the heck, you're bound to love that, so he clicks and with a fake shutter it immortalizes the moment.

"Did it turn out good?" Frankie asks.

Santiago hums in reply, sending the photo to you and smiles. It's a good fucking picture, Santiago thinks to himself as he presses the button to set it as the background of his lock screen.

There's a notification from his phone, and when Santiago scrolls down, his screen fills with the view of you. It's a selfie, taken in your hotel room, shirt pulled up just far enough that he can see the lace of your bra. Not quite a nude but fuck, it's not like his dick minds. It's twitching in his pants in appreciation, prepared to do a standing ovation.

Next to him, there's another ping, and Frankie is already pulling up his phone to check it, when his eyes widen to big saucers.

"What is it?" Santiago asks.

Frankie clutches the phone to his chest, hiding the screen from him. The man's whole reaction is odd to say the least, and it immediately has Santiago reaching over across the seat, for the phone "What are you--"

Before Santiago can even finish his question, Frankie's slaps down over Santiago's hand.

What. the. fuck, kind of reaction is that?!

Santiago stares at the man in silent shock. It takes him several moments to re-calibrate his brain, too stunned to even speak before sullen anger and indignation flickers bright in his chest and his brain comes back online.

"Frank, give me the fucking phone."

The demand is met by a grunt, that definitely does not stand for yes.

"Frank, I'm not fucking around, give it to me," Santiago repeats, but again, Frankie doesn't cooperate, instead he pockets the phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

It's the last straw, and Santiago plants a hand on the dashboard for leverage, as he climbs the cramped space of the passenger seat over to the driver's side that has Frankie screaming murder.

"Pope, get a hold of yourself."

But Santiago is already climbing over, head thumping against the low ceiling, as he straddles Frankie's weight and pins the man to his seat as he reaches for Frankie's back pocket. It doesn't matter that the man is putting up his arms and his best resistance.

Wrestling had never been Frankie's strong suit in training.

With a quick jab of his elbow into Frankie's rib, Frankie locks up, wind knocked out of him and he gives up as Santiago finds his goal. He wrenches the phone from Frankie and slides it open and---

Fucking hell.

You're naked. Kneeling and legs spread, while your one arm covers your breast, pushing them up seductively while you have an entirely too coy smile on your face.

He drags his eyes away from the screen to Frankie, who has the courtesy to look abashed. His cheeks are flushed pink, creeping up halfway to full tomato-red, already sporting a semi against Santiago ass, where Santiago's sitting on top of him.

Why do you always send Frankie the good ones.

Fine, two can play that game.

Leaning down, Santiago grabs the back of Frankie's neck, capturing the man's mouth with his. All he hear is an "oomph" as Frankie goes stiff in his arm, and then he melts in Santiago's arm, shoulders winding down and relaxing as he parts his mouth with a moan so that Santiago can lick into his mouth.

Frankie's hands reaches up, until he's fisting Santiago's curls in his large hand, dragging his closer, hips canting up, practically rutting himself against him, it's heat and pleasure sparkling up Santiago's entire spine and from the moans that Frankie's emitting, it must be the same for him.

Santiago pulls away, reaching for his phone again, with a self-satisfied smile. Frankie makes it too easy sometimes.

"Santiago, what are you--" Frankie manages with a breathless moan.

"I promised her a quid pro quo, and I think--" Santiago settles the phone on the dashboard, until it's level eye and presses the record button. Then he turns back towards Frankie, as he settles back into the man's lap, grinding down against the hardening bulge and he can't help but smile at the deep groan of response he gets. "A video is going to a much better gift to keep her company in that hotel room of hers."

The rest of the Drabbles | Got a request?

#oscar isaac #pedro pascal #homecoming drabbles #santiago garcia #santiago x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #cici drabbles #cici writes

[ask-healthy-light]

Move Past

When the Sun rose over the horizon the following morning, brightening the forest with its colourful rays, Melon gave Light a gentle kiss, and got up to start her day; but as she passed by the room of her Brother, she opened the door to find Straw still asleep, absolutely exhausted after last night.

A warm smile grew upon her face, before she closed the door to start her daily routine, interrupted only for a few brief moments when her staff greeted her as they entered; and she wished them a good morning in return, as she wrote letters to her Family to let them know Straw was safely at the Inn.

But when she had donned her winter clothes, intending to head to town for supplies, and to post the letters she had written, before she had even stepped outside, a Pony, covered head-to-hoof in thick clothing, accidentally knocked Melon over, and apologised in a familiar voice as she was helped up.

As soon as Melon was back on her hooves, the Pony before her removed their hood and scarf to reveal Honeydew Delight, one of her younger Sisters, who cheerfully embraced her older Sister before Melon even managed to thank Honey, who was only slightly upset that she caused her to fall to begin with.

Unfortunately, the commotion of their collision woke up Straw, who stepped out of his room, wearing a tired smile on his face, before he slowly walked over to his Sisters; but even though Straw would have gladly matched, or even outright surpassed his little Sister's energy, he had little to spare.

With a quiet sigh, annoyed that she had to abandon her schedule so early, Melon took off her jacket and scarf, and led her Siblings to the lounge, where she asked the two nigh tireless Ponies to wait for her to make some tea, knowing she would not be able to leave them alone for even a few minutes.

After she stopped by her room to bring Light a cup of tea, Melon returned to the lounge to find her two most energetic Siblings sitting on the couch in complete silence; but though she knew why Straw was silent, given his distress the previous night, she worriedly asked Honey if anything was wrong.

The usually cheerful Mare merely sighed deeply, and slowly asked her big Sister and Brother whether they knew how to let go of the past, or, at least, to not have it affect her now; but since neither had heard such a great change in her voice before, they grew worried, and asked Honey to elaborate.

But as the young Mare tried to explain, her eyes welled up with tears, and she felt herself getting choked up, so she quietly asked the two for a moment; and while she drank her tea, Melon hurried to the Hall to grab some blankets, while Straw battled through his exhaustion to warmly embrace Honey.

Eventually, covered by a blanket, and laying in Straw's gentle embrace, Honey admitted she knew not whence these thoughts came, nor why these were so numerous; ridiculed for pushing herself to do her best, and mocked for being herself, kind and caring, she asked whether she deserved such treatment.

Instantly, Straw and Melon both gently took Honey's hooves and promised her she never deserved such treatment, no matter what her mind said; and although dealing with thoughts as such was tough, they were always there for her if she wished to talk, or to ask for help in letting these feelings pass.

With a small smile to Straw, Melon told Honey:

"You're a wonderful Mare, and your true self," she said with a warm smile, "should not be hidden."

(Thanks for reading this bonus! If you'd like a story of your own, feel free to send a request!)

Featuring: Melon Grumps, Strawberry Surprise, and Honeydew Delight, from @ask-a-grumpy-melon

#move past #bonus #story related #my little pony #writing #oc #melon grumps #honeydew delight #strawberry surprise #healthy light

[mouseywrites]

Ask: I'm definitely intelligent and didn't forget to specify things and I've definitely not been thinking about it but being too afraid to send another ask--

tfp ratchet if that's ok ;w; and just. random fluffy bullshit. maybe ratchet insisting on making a "proper" resting spot for a reader who lives in the base with them. and it just happens to be next to his workstation where he can keep an eye on them.

Keeping Tabs - Ratchet and Reader 

Warnings: None

Word Count: 626

As a human member of the Autobot team, you took your job very seriously. It wasn’t simple. At least, not as simple as one would think. You cared for the kids, offered a listening ear to the bots, and even gave some helpful advice of your own. True, they were giant, alien robots, but they could still use a pep talk every once in a while. Given their respective trauma from war, you understood why they needed to hear some uplifting words. Whether they would listen or not, however, was completely up to them. 

Ratchet, the medic of the team, didn’t really bother to listen to you. Well, not at first. After spending several months at base with him, he grew to tolerate your presence and words with grumbles and vents. 

It was tough work, juggling between your daily life and secret life with the Autobots. However, you managed just fine, always returning to the Cybertronian you trusted the most. Ratchet.

Although a grump, he certainly cared about you. It was easy to see. He fussed over your bad habits, but all in good faith. Whenever you pointed out his softness, he tended to scoff and roll his optics, but that was okay. He cared and so did you. At the end of the day, that was all that mattered.

Overtime, however, things changed with your living situation, and Optimus Prime offered his base as a place for you to stay. You agreed, knowing that you wouldn’t be accepted anywhere else. All of the Autobots appeared to accept your presence as a normal fact of life. 

Well, all of them, except for Ratchet. He was different.

…

“Raaatchet, why’d you wake me up?” 

You yawned, stretching out of his servo and onto the catwalk. With soft hands, you gripped onto the railing and glanced at the blinking monitors above you with tired eyes. 

Before your attention could linger on his workstation, you looked to the side. 

“What is this?”

On the platform, there was a makeshift bed. It was fluffy and covered in blankets and pillows. Not only that, but there was also a bedside lamp on a chest of drawers. You blinked, processing the sight. 

“Did you make this for me?”

Ratchet turned to you with a nod. 

“Of course.”

You gawked, releasing the railing to brush your hands against the blankets. They were warm, much warmer than you thought possible. Everything was neat and proper, containing all that you needed in order to sleep. 

“How did you…? Why did you…? Ratchet, you shouldn’t have. I mean-“

“Ep! Ep! Ep!” He dismissed you with a wave of his servo. “From now on, you will rest here.” 

Befuddled, you lifted a brow.

“But I already have my own room. What made you want to fix something new for me?” 

For a moment, the old bot paused and pondered to himself. His optics, bright and cyan, flickered away from your gaze. 

“I just…thought it wise to keep a closer tab on you.” 

Oh, so that was it. He wanted to look out for you in his own way. Well, now you couldn’t be upset. Amused, you set your hands on your hips and sent him a smirk.

“Couldn’t this have waited until morning?”

Ratchet scowled lightly. 

“Yes, well. Forgive me. I want you to test it.” He glanced at the bed. “Now, don’t mind me. Go back to sleep.” 

You nodded, your smirk softening to a smile. Slowly, you climbed under the sheets and rested your head to the pillows. You covered yourself with the blankets and sighed, welcoming the warmth.

“Comfortable?”

You beamed at him.

“Absolutely. Thanks, Ratch.”

The medic grunted, trying to hide his smile by turning the other way.

“...happy to be of assistance.”

#transformers prime #reader insert #ratchet #ratchet and reader #my reader insert fics #mouseyindulgence

[gumnut-logic]

Dad (or Five times Alan’s brothers carried him to bed and one time they didn’t) (Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 2

This is all @flyboytracy​ ‘s fault.:P ::hugs:: From this post

Many thanks to @katblu42​ for the read through and advice ::hugs you lots::

I’m writing this completely unplanned, so who knows what is likely to happen.

I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

The second time was not the second time.

There were many times a big brother had to carry Alan to bed because it had become a habit and a reassurance.

And yes, he knew his brothers were concerned. There was even talk of a therapist at one point, but Alan closed that one down.

Grandma took him aside and they had a long talk. Alan knew he wasn’t being entirely honest with her. He loved his grandmother with all his heart, but he hid his reasons nonetheless.

He covered it up as study. He wanted to know exactly what his brothers did, so when he was old enough, he would be ready.

It worked. Kinda.

He also learnt to keep his reactions to his brothers close to his heart. To not yell in fear, to not cry out. He developed a stoicism that he claimed would help when he was older.

When he was older.

But he wasn’t older. He was still young and terrified.

And still he had to watch.

He was watching when Scott slipped and fell into an ice crevasse.

For a split second, terror was everything. He thought he had lost another family member. That his big brother with all his kind smiles and eyes of blue was gone forever.

But he was also watching when Virgil hauled a complaining Scott out of that same crevasse.

He learnt a few new words that day.

And John refused to let him watch any more rescues.

But he still did.

John wasn’t the only genius in the family.

Scott was home for a while after that and if Alan was honest, despite his brother’s broken leg, it gave them time together. Scott still had some Tracy Industries work and Alan still had school, of course, but there were shared moments on the sofas or out on the balcony. Perhaps more candy than there should have been, and the hair tousling was just annoying, but he had time with his big brother.

Scott’s injury also hauled the rest of the family in to keep him company, and as Alan tended to hang around the longest, he also had more time with everyone else.

There were still rescues to attend and every time that happened, Scott was grumbly and frustrated. He was as determined to ‘monitor’ every rescue until Virgil finally cracked and ordered – yes,  Virgil ordered - John to cut the feed.

There were various medical threats involved.

Scott grumped off to his rooms after that, so Alan did the same, and hooked into his own connection to Thunderbird Five.

Couldn’t let all those computing lessons go to waste, could he?

John would be proud.

After he committed fratricide.

But John wasn’t going to find out, so he had nothing to worry about, did he.

Or so he thought.

Scott eventually recovered and returned to saving the planet on a daily basis and everything settled back into the groove of normalcy…well, as far as normal went for his family.

Alan kept his grades up and watched the rescues on his tablet, hidden behind the lesson he was currently doing. He had ghosted his presence and there should be no reason John should discover his breach in security. It wasn’t as if he was a nasty anyway.

He should have known better.

All three of his big brothers were out on this particular night, so once again the comms room was empty. Even Grandma was off the Island. Brains was around somewhere, so technically, he wasn’t unsupervised. No doubt John had an eye on him as always, in any case, and honestly it was great to have the place to himself.

Besides, it wasn’t like he was three years old and likely to stick a fork in a power socket or anything.

But he was still young, and despite himself he fell asleep watching Virgil packing equipment back onto Two.

He was woken by a sigh.

Someone sat down beside him on the sofa and took his tablet out of his limp hand.

He kept it limp because he had a pretty good idea who had sat down next to him and how much shit he really was in.

“Allie, why?” It was soft and despairing.

And John.

John was his idol.

He did everything Alan wanted to do. He even lived in space.

The downside of living in space meant he was rarely home nowadays. So the fact his space brother was currently sitting down beside him was a big thing.

But also terrifying because he was in so much shit.

So he faked slumber and gambled John might be a little cooler in the morning.

If he didn’t throttle Alan awake in the meantime.

He waited, limp on the couch as his brother examined his tablet. There was a soft hiss, followed by something like a small gasp.

Alan itched to open his eyes, to see his brother’s reaction to his work. But it wasn’t worth it.

Tomorrow was going to be hell.

He fully expected John to shake him awake and have at it then and there. But instead, he was surprised to feel a gentle hand in his hair.

What was it with his hair? Why did his family always poke at it?

But this was John. His secluded brother always gave Alan his time and his care, but the hugs and familial touches were rare.

Alan didn’t mind. After all, he knew all about the effects of space on the human body.

He worried about John sometimes. Alan would be grateful to one day take some of the long space hours off his brother to give him some down time.

When Alan wasn’t flying space rockets, of course.

“Allie, you’ve out done yourself on this one.” It was whispered ever so quietly.

A touch to his temple.

And then he was being lifted. Spacesuit brushed against his cheek and still he let himself stay limp.

He felt bad. John was always sensitive first thing down from orbit. The air pressure on his skin, gravity, it all took a little time to get acclimated to, and Alan did not want to cause his brother any hurt.

Of any kind.

But John was so gentle. He kissed his hair and held him ever so strong in his arms. Alan felt so loved, so cared for, in a way that was usually so far above, so far away, that he let himself fall into it.

While he was ‘asleep’, there was no need for bravado, no toughness, no show of strength. He had no responsibility and could give control of everything to his brother, whom he trusted with…everything.

It was what was so addictive. The chance to be cared for and not have to push it away because he was tough…he didn’t need coddling.

A small voice in the back of his head said that he obviously did, and this was just further proof he was still a kid and possibly in need of that therapy. But if being a kid felt like this, he was willing to sacrifice bravado for the moment.

And why should he need therapy for the need to feel loved?

Caught in his own thoughts and the warmth of his brother’s arms, he did not realise that John was not taking him to his rooms. The corridor was too short and they exited on the wrong side.

A peek and he saw the stardust on John’s ceiling. Before he knew it, John was settling him on a bed. A very soft bed with special sheets designed to be kind to space-soaked skin.

John’s bed was huge and Alan melted into it.

“You may be smart, Allie, but there is no way you are asleep.”

Alan couldn’t help it, he peeked open an eye.

John was standing beside the bed, still in his uniform, a small smile on his face. “Now go to sleep and we will talk in the morning.”

“Promise?” It came out far too childish for Alan’s liking, but it was necessary.

“Promise. Now sleep.”

The bed was little more than a cloud, like those John usually floated above, and Alan was tired.

He closed his eyes as the bed dipped and a finger brushed a hair off his forehead.

The last he heard was a whisper.

“Too smart for your own good.”

-o-o-o-

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Alan Tracy #John Tracy #nuttyfic #oooh two parts in two days

[bam-monsterhospital]

hang on gotta ramble about the strawhat interpretations in this show and how wonderful they are in the live action. also y'know, put any worries to rest?

zorp

i was so worried at first that they'd only focus on making him a stoic badass and all the wonderful bits about zoro that makes him zoro would be lost

i didn't need to worry

zoro THINKS he's a badass. and yeah sometimes he's right. but it becomes very clear very quickly that this man is a fucking disaster. an absolute mess.

he's KIND.

a dork. sees a lil girl with her tray of horrible riceballs and is like 'omg a child. plz nooooooooo', and then instantly like 180s and is all 'brb cheering up this lil goober, nothing can stop me.'

he PAYS ATTENTION. he notices shit! y'know, that thing that zoro does? that characteristic? yeah! Also nice to see where his mind goes when him and nami try to guess each others' backstories; like her, he assumes the worst in people.

he emotes. he mopes over lack of alcohol like a fuckin idiot, he laughs open and freely often, he smiles, he gets startled, he has a thousand yard stare when he realizes just what kind of bullshit he's involved himself in when it comes to luffy.

hIS DEVOTION TO LUFFY. aaaaaaaaaaa. this is the big thing right? zoro's big turning point and it did not disappoint. He's genuine and raw with his delcaration to luffy, knowing the support luffy needs at that moment (aaaaaah, see? he notices things!) and reassuring/encouraging him. ffffffffuck. Then later on he fuckin checks up on luffy to see if he needs to talk. Will follow him to th ends of the earth into hell and right back out again vibes. it's perfect.

he's entertainingly petty. quick lil word jabs at sanji, unprompted. beautiful.

Loofs

what is there to say? if you don't already know, just watch. This is luffy. this is the best luffy. this is a precious bab personified sunshine. Everything you ever liked about luffy? Here, accounted for, amplified.

Namnams the boss

reminded me why i initially adored nami in the first place.

she's herding cats 24/7

assumes the worst in people, very cynical, is all 'nuuu fuck you y'all are garbage', but then when you blink she's exposing her bleeding heart gooey center, regretting everything about everything.

trying not to care, but cares so fuckin much omg, she's kind. she's so kind.

Usoppppppppppp

oh Ussop. Ussopp. Fantastic.

all of usopp's best traits, TAKEN UP TO 11

KIND

full of life and energy and joy like luffy, backs down and regrets life choices on a daily basis, cARES SO MUCH AAAAAAAAA

can we get a collection of his stories? he's really entertaining. like VERY entertaining, also if you're not paying attention to what he's saying you could easily initially buy what he's selling... until he brings his lies into ridiculous territories xD

excellent at quick thinking. thinks on his feet, fly by the seat of his pants, he'S USOPP.

also. ahem. he's very pretty.

does not want to be in the fight scenes but runs in anyways.

snergle

he's not gross. he's not creepy. he's not a raving misogynist. omg.

it feels like his main reaction to pretty womenz is being completely enamored. like he's just mesmerized by his own idea of women as a fantasy fey being glittering in front of him.

actually charming? WHAT? he knows how to actually be charismatic/charming? TO A WIMMENZ? WHAT IS THIS NOW? WHERE HAS THIS BEEN, ODA? HEY. TAKE. NOTE.

sooooooooo full of smiles and laughs.

wears his heart on his sleeve, ALL emotions out front nothing hidden, nothing held back.

KIND. hmmm, i'm noticing a trend here.

very obviously cares about people.

still an idiot, like, this was a given. i want to make it clear he's not some suave fucker, no, this boy a dorkus who rolled high in luck and smiles and it's been helping a lot.

so emotional. and unlike most media where 'emotional' on a dude looks like rage grump murder hobo badass, here instead it's like a fuckin breath of fresh air. it's not toxic. it's just... genuine? is that the word i'm looking for? hmmm.

it's obvious he cares deeply for luffy. and fuck man, i really miss that for sanji.

i'm sure i had more to say, but i've rambled enough for now.

#wacky pirates #long post #under the read more #i'm sure i had more to say but i goddamn forget ALL OF IT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #i love them #i feel like that goes without saying #the reason i put zoro first is because....... he's always been my fav? so like...... yeah #opla #one piece netflix #one piece live action #ramblings #rambling

[daily-grump-moments]

Day 143

matt and arin have a meaningful conversation

behind the grumps

#btg #game grumps #daily grump moments #arin handsome #arin hanson #matt watson #supermega #gg #egoraptor

[damn-it-a-hogwarts-legacy-blog]

PLEASE— talk about isabel

2, 13, 15, 21, 35, 50 :DD

YEAHHHHHH THANK YOU FOR THE ASK, MY DEAR

2. Why'd you choose your OC's name?

Sooooo in HL itself, she’s Zip Findlesnap, named after my short-lived Hogwarts Mystery character. I wasn’t taking it super seriously, so I came up with the first silly Game Grumps-style name that came to my mind.

Anyway, I had no idea I would get into HL the way I did, so I just copied Zip into HL. Eventually I realized that as funny and cute as her name was, I needed something else that fit the tone of my worldbuilding a little better lol. So now, Zip is just a nickname her little sister came up with when she was a baby who couldn’t really grasp her siblings’ names. Isabel seems like a reasonable name for someone whose nickname is Zip. Thankfully I have never had anyone draw comparisons between her and Isabelle from animal crossing (greatest fear /hj). I couldn’t bring myself to change Findlesnap, so that’s still her maiden name lol.

The Greymoore surname came after ~3 painful hours of researching traditional English names. I wanted something that had some meaning behind it. “Grey” is just an elegant-sounding reference to their subdued state as adults, and a sorta abstract foil to the House of Black, figuratively diluting the ancient families’ mix of xenophobic ideals and inbred bloodlines the same way grey is a dilution of the color black. “Moore” just refers to the moors surrounding Hogwarts on which Isabel and Ominis frequently adventured and bonded as students lol.

13. What's the worst thing your OC's ever done?

This one is tough, ooh. Casting unforgivables is pretty bad since it’s Azkaban-worthy—and because she’s an adult who definitely knows better and doesn’t have the excuse of underdeveloped teenager brain like what one could argue for Sebastian. She’s really ashamed of it. It happens in moments of great weakness while in service to the Ministry of Magic. She could be any combination of sleep-deprived, angry at the fact they have to do favors for the Ministry if they want continued protection from the Gaunts, or reacting to someone who physically hurt Ominis. She’s managed to hide it from Ominis, and it’s her darkest secret. She isn’t sure their marriage could survive if he ever found out she was hiding something like that from him. At the very least, she would become like a stranger to him and he would feel really deep betrayal. Her usage of unforgivables decreased a lot throughout her 20s, and the last time was when she was 31.

15. What item does your OC hold most dear?

I’ve never thought about this one, hmmmmmm. As a teenager, probably Isabel’s wand. She was under the impression she was a squib until she was 15, so it means an incredible amount that she actually has magical abilities. Her wand is the physical representation of the freedom she gained at 15.

It’s pretty dang corny, but as an adult I have to say her wedding ring. They might have their arguments and disagreements like any other couple, but Isabel and Ominis are just so closely bonded and so in love their whole lives, and they would both be in a pretty bad spot without each other. I think a very close second for her would be the 1925-ish Daily Prophet issue announcing Morfin Gaunt’s assault on Bob Ogden and subsequent arrest, in which the article went into detail on how Morfin and his immediate family were the only known Gaunts left alive. It meant she and Ominis no longer felt the need for outside help with protection, and they dissolved their agreement with the Ministry. She finally felt like she and Ominis could lead normal lives, and they re-entered wizarding society after having mostly withdrawn for the past 30 years. Their children and grandchildren were pretty happy about finally being able to do things like have wizarding world jobs, meet with non-muggle friends outside Hogwarts and go to Diagon Alley without undercover aurors monitoring them at all times and telling them where they could or couldn’t go.

21. Is your OC big on revenge?

Isabel used to want to seek revenge for a number of things, but after she and Ominis started having kids, her world view shifted drastically and she became focused on preservation of herself and her family instead. Her children were never caught in the crossfire of the Gaunts’ attempts to attack them, but she was no longer willing to take risks that might have put her family in danger, including seeking revenge. She sometimes wishes her parents-in-law were still alive so she could make them pay for all the ways in which they irreparably hurt Ominis, but she also knows Ominis has never liked the idea of getting revenge on his parents.

35. Random fact about your OC

Isabel doesn't do well with loneliness. In fact, being alone is one of her biggest fears. As she often felt caught between the muggle world and the wizarding world when she began attending Hogwarts, there was a time when she felt extremely out of place in both worlds and actually wanted to go back to believing she was a squib. Being alone was also what got her kidnapped by Rookwood, so she became especially careful of wandering into deserted places for a long time afterwards. As an adult, old habits died hard and she feels better when she has Ominis, her best friend Poppy, or her children with her when she travels someplace new.

50. What do you love and hate most about your OC?

I most love that Isabel is so focused and dedicated. She gives 120% to everything she feels is worthy of her attention, from school to her marriage. She’s ridiculously patient with Ominis as he heals a little more every day, and being married to someone with such a significant handicap, especially back in the days long before most people were willing to accommodate anyone with total blindness, I think says a lot about her character.

I guess hate isn't really the right word because I've lovingly crafted her exactly the way I want, but she has a lot of self-destructive tendencies that don't have any positive impact in her life, including the use of unforgivables as an adult. Probably because I’m usually projecting onto her when I write her being self-destructive lol. Sometimes she’s a bit too impulsive and indifferent to danger, like wanting to fight literally every single member of the house of Gaunt just to defend Ominis and being overly casual about nearly bleeding out, and wondering why Ominis gets so frustrated with her. She wants to demonstrate she’s strong and has overcome her trauma from being kidnapped by Rookwood and being cursed with crucio by Ominis’ mother, but it often comes off like she doesn’t care about her physical wellbeing or Ominis’ feelings.

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt x mc #headcanons #ask game #I'M SO HAPPY YOU GAVE ME SO MANY GOOD QUESTIONS THANK YOU

[chaoskirin]

GAME GRUMPS 10-YEAR FANZINE!!!

Hey all! I was part of a fanzine released on the Game Grumps’ 10-year anniversary of their first upload. There is SO MUCH AMAZING ART IN HERE. You have to see it!

Here’s a link to the Google Doc: 

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1lnxK9wBzlc7vecT9jKb-msbOX5zITQKd/view

Preview of the cover (By Wiind--One of the artists who has done merch for the Grumps!!) for attention!

PLEASE Make sure to reblog this if you see it. Because it has a link in it, it won’t show up in searches!

Lastly, gonna tag a couple Grump blogs I know of. Spread the word! :D @daily-grump-moments @sortagrump​ 

#game grumps #dan avidan #arin hanson #ck's art #ck's fanart #not bestiary

[game-grumped]

I’m gonna do a “Game Grumps Moments I Quote Daily.” I have so fucking many of them.

[alecmagnuslwb]

Cause, Baby You’re a Haunted House Now

A part of my Double Date Fright series

Read on AO3

The crackle of fake lightning and a blood curdling scream greet them when they step through the iron gates, the gate slamming dramatically and mechanically with way more screeching noise than it actually could make.

“Isn’t the scary house that leads to a Halloween party a bit overplayed now?” John says stopping beside a scarecrow that’s seen better days. “Don’t we see enough daily horrors to not have to endure a scary house to get to a good drink?”

“Oh, don’t be a grump,” Zatanna says stepping in front of him tugging at the brown leather straps of his gun holster. She’s once again gone all out on their costumes accurate down to John’s recent haircut with Rick and Evelyn O’Connell looks for the party. She firmly believes you can never go wrong with The Mummy or Brendan Fraser. “Ollie went all out this year. And I may or may not have helped Dinah steal one of the Bat credit cards to help pay for it all.”

“Well that makes it more fun automatically,” he says with a smile leaning down to kiss her. It doesn’t last as long as either of them would like though, the scarecrow beside them choosing the moment their lips meet to come to life waving its arms around and cackling, startling them apart from one another.

The scarecrow dies down just as John punches it in the arm annoyed. Zatanna bats his hand down playfully preventing him from doing the poor fake scarecrow any more harm tangling their fingers together and tugging at him to move towards the door.

“This used to be a frat house,” Zatanna explains as they walk up the stairs. “Evidently the hazing had gotten actually criminal and Connor helped shut it down so the university rents it out for events now. When I came by last week they had a wicked set up going on, Dinah gave me a full tour.”

John just hums in response pushing open the cracked door with his foot. A slightly different Halloween sounds soundtrack cd greets them, this one featuring the moaning and groaning of some non-descript monster and the howls of wolves. The space before them is covered in fake cobwebs and gothic looking gargoyle statues. The lights are down, just on the right setting for spooky and a table with a sign reading ‘to your doom’ in fake blood with an arrow pointing to the right is just visible enough certain to be the first thing you see.

“The stairs are actually to the left, the signs a misdirect so you have to go through more spooky closet jumpers etc. etc.,” she says tugging John the proper direction.

They walk the only sounds greeting them the fake tunes coming from the speakers above.

“Are we particularly early for this thing?” John asks when they pass yet another door that nothing jumps out of. He hasn’t spotted a single other person running through these halls, one’s that know the route to the party or not. There’s no screams or shouts coming from anywhere that aren’t artificial. It’s all just empty and oddly quiet.

“We’re actually late,” Zatanna says swinging their joined hands between them. “Because someone got distracted about how good someone else looked in their costume.”

John huffs bumping his shoulder into hers. “You say that like you aren’t the one who initiated that distraction.”

“I did say someone,” she says with a flirtatious smirk nudging back at him. John chuckles just as a door finally bursts open beside him, a plastic skeleton covered in fake viscera with a dull plastic knife jumping out at him.

He jumps, pushing Zatanna away on instinct and letting out a shriek he’s not entirely proud of. Zatanna laughs at him stepping back into his space tucking her fingers into the waistband of his pants turning him away from the skeleton.

“The parties probably just in full swing on the third floor and we just get the mechanical spooky stuff cause we’re so late,” she says pulling him into her just a bit.

“Maybe,” he hums. He moves to wrap his hands around her waist when he feels a touch at his shoulder, he looks down Zatanna’s hands both still occupied with keeping him close. “Zee,” he says warningly just as her eyes go wide; the touch on his shoulder becoming firmer. He twists, Zatanna pulling him back as the fake skeleton thrashes at him from where it’s attached to its springing mechanism, the knife swipes out at John just barely missing him. The knife that a few seconds ago was clearly plastic now sporting a shining gleam of real steel.

Zatanna lifts up a hand as the skeleton continues to thrash violently, shaking itself nearly off the mechanism to which it’s attached. “Llaf trapa,” she shouts at it and the skeleton does just that falling to pieces in a pile on the floor.

Zatanna steps cautiously towards the pile leaning down and picking up the knife, she presses the tip to her index finger with a small hiss a bit of blood trickling out.  

“We need to get upstairs,” Zatanna says tossing the knife onto a nearby side table while sticking her finger in her mouth cleaning away the blood. At her feet, one of the skeleton hands moves, scuttling towards her grabbing her foot. She kicks it off in an instant, the bones hitting the wall, a few fingers falling off from the impact. The other hand tries it’s best to get at her, but John’s quick to press his boot down on the bony wrist stopping it in its tracks. The hand grips at the carpet for a second before sending just it’s middle finger up right at John.

“Rude fuckin’ hand,” he says before stamping down on the hand, crushing it to bits.

“We definitely need to get upstairs,” Zatanna says holding out a hand that he instantly takes. They rush down the hall without incident before turning a corner that reveals the stairs. They hit the first step when they hear the growl. Not like the fake hollow one’s like the speakers are still letting out.

The growl gets louder at the top of the stairs a hulking black dog with eyes glowing red looking down at them. The monster snarls, green and black gunk slobbering from its mouth and dropping down onto the ground burning acidic when it lands.

“There was an animatronic hellhound Roy was setting up in the hall when I came by last week,” Zatanna whispers never moving her eyes from the creature. They step back slowly, as the hellhound takes two stairs down towards them.

They ease down from the stairs nearly round to the corner where they just came from. The hellhound gets impatient bounding down the stairs.

“Run!” John yells and they both take off heading back towards the front of the house, the hellhound not far behind them. John looks back even though he knows he shouldn’t, watching as the hellhound spits at them. Zatanna comes to a halting stop John running right into her back.

“The door’s gone,” she says matter of factly and John looks up to where there very much was a door not so long ago.

The hellhound comes to a stop not far from them, close enough they can feel it’s hot breath. They stare each other down, like the hound is just waiting for them to try and run again so he can snap at his prey.

“Brainssssss,” a deep voice echoes from behind them. Zatanna makes the move spinning to see a faster than the movies describe zombie ambling towards them. She squints trying to get a closer look at the pirate fashioned zombie, familiarity clicking into place.

The arrival of the new player distracts the hellhound, the creature sniffing the air and turning its acidic growls towards the zombie instead of them. The zombie rushes at them Zatanna pushing John out of the way so the hellhound and the zombie collide without them stuck in the middle.

“Okay, I’m not above hiding, let’s hide,” she says in a rush using her magic to slam open a nearby coat closet door hoping on everything it’s empty. She ushers John inside looking back over her shoulder just in time to see the tumble between the zombie and the hellhound come to its end, the zombie taking a large bite from the wolf’s neck.

She slams the door shut once she’s in locking it with her magic while John grasps around above them finding a pull chain to a light. Luckily nothing jumps out at them when light fills the small space.

“That was definitely not a fake hellhound,” Zatanna says breathing heavily but staying as quiet as possible pressed up against John. “And that zombie pirate sure looked a hell of a lot like Oliver.”

“Eh, he kinda always looks like that doesn’t he?” John says with a smirk.

Zatanna rolls her eyes. “Says the man who hasn’t had a full night’s sleep in a month.”

“Ouch,” John says leaning an arm over her. “True, but ouch.”

“Something very definitely magic related is going on here. Decorations are coming alive and unless Oliver has had a run in with some zombie teeth in the last 24 hours or died and came back and didn’t mention it I’d bet that was his costume and he became it,” Zatanna reasons out loud. The sounds of the rumble between zombie Oliver and the hellhound start to cease outside the door. They wait a bit longer, until the shuffling of feet disappears completely.

Zatanna unlocks the closet door the two of the sneaking out quietly sidestepping over the mangled body of the hellhound. They’re hyper aware of their surroundings as they move quietly back to where they came from. The stairs are gone, no longer where they’d been when their encounter with the hellhound began.

Zatanna lets out a frustrated huff pulling John along the opposite way. They walk for what seems like forever, luckily running into nothing but their shadows and the faint smell of real blood soaked sheets where fake blood once was.

“Stairs!” she says just a little too loud, gritting her teeth when John looks at her with a raised eyebrow. She can’t help it; she’s never been this excited to find stairs. They don’t bother with being slow up the stairs this time, taking off in a run till they hit the top.

They pause, John just a little winded from the speedy run up the stairs. Zatanna takes the pause to look around, peeking around every corner for another unwanted arrival and finding nothing.

A blood curdling scream comes from the speakers startling her as her eyes trail along all the shut doors that could hold some monster inside of them.

“Alright I need the rattle chains and shit to stop or I’m gonna go insane,” she says keeping an eye on the hall. John drags a chair over stepping up on it and pulling at the chords attached to the speaker above them.

“Thank the lord,” she says letting out a relieved breath when the sounds go quiet.

“John’ll do,” he replies cheeky as he brushes his hands off and Zatanna huffs a tiny laugh. The rumbling of heavy footsteps is easy to hear now that the spooky sounds have ceased. But the thing making the sound moves faster than their own reaction times, a massive werewolf tackling John right off the chair.

Zatanna lifts her hand to send magic flying at the wolf, but the way that it and John roll across the floor makes her hesitate not wanting to accidentally knock John out instead of the wolf.

John wrestles with it banging into the wall hard and Zatanna winces, his poor, already sore at any given moment back will not take that hit well. John soldiers through the pain though rolling until he gets his arms and legs around the wolf just right, holding the creature still.

The wolf lets out a dog like whimper as John holds it tight around the neck, not enough to kill but enough to knock the wolf into unconsciousness. When the wolf finally starts moving John let’s go pushing the beast off to the side, laying on the ground his breath heavy.

Zatanna steps over him to inspect the wolf, lifting one of its long-nailed hands.

“He’s a Lantern,” she says moving the arm so John can see the ring on the beast’s finger hidden beneath the fur.

“Shit,” John says lifting up from off the ground. “So anything we run into very well may be someone we know? Good thing I didn’t kill him, I don’t think I’d ever hear the end of that from the capes.”

Zatanna drops the wolfs hand to the ground and walks back over to John lifting the arm that’s dripping blood down onto the carpet.

She undoes the little black tie around her collar and wraps it around the wound on John’s forearm gingerly.

“Do you think you can get turned into a werewolf if the werewolf isn’t a real werewolf?” John asks through gritted teeth as Zatanna tightens the cloth around his arm.

“Probably not,” she says scanning the hall for any signs of any other creatures. They’re alone again thankfully. Zatanna curls her fingers around the single leather suspender connecting his holster to his belt keeping him close as they creep through the hallway slowly.

It’s quiet, way too quiet as they move until they reach the split at the end of the hall, the door is gone and now it seems that the halls are moving. Zatanna hasn’t the first clue which way to go now. They look at one another, then both directions before meeting each other’s eyes again. They shrug at the same time and Zatanna pulls him to the right.

“Do you hear that?” she whispers after a few steps, ears straining for the faint sound of scratching. Before John can answer the scratching gets a little louder and is followed up by what sounds like a bird’s squawk.

John juts his chin out towards a nearby door, Zatanna unfurls her fingers from his suspender whispering a quiet spell under her breath bringing globes of purple magic to her fingers. John slips behind her pulling one of the fake pistols from his holsters and flipping it so the handle is at the ready to strike.

John slips an arm around her waist grabbing the doorknob, their eyes meet briefly and then he pulls the door open. Something or someone, Zatanna realizes quickly, covered in bright feathers tumbles out at them and she pulls back her magic at the last second recognizing the face underneath the ruffles.

“Dinah?” she says pushing John back a bit.

Dinah squawks at her. “Dammit,” she says her voice coming out a little higher than usual. “I really wish I could stop that.” She squawks again on the end of her words. She looks like Dinah, but like a Dinah who fell into a vat glue and then a vat of colorful feathers. She’s still got arms and legs and there’s the vague outline of her regular clothes under there. She’s just got way more plumage than the average person.

“You really took Oliver’s little nickname for you to heart, huh?” John says with a snicker as he re-holsters his weapon.

“I don’t-squawk!-want to hear it,” Dinah replies in frustration.

Zatanna reaches out a hand plucking at one of the feathers. “Ow!” Dinah says and Zatanna smiles at her in apology.

“So you were the parrot to Oliver’s zombie pirate, huh?” she says crossing her arms.

Dinah nods taking a deep collecting breath. “I just didn’t want to do the zombie part. Which in hindsight-squawk!-was probably a good thing since it’s the only reason I’m still able to talk to you now,” she pauses for a beat before reaching out and holding Zatanna’s shoulder. “Oh, no Ollie. You saw him? Is he okay?”

“Define okay,” John says and Dinah’s big sad bird eyes start to look wet.

“He’ll be fine, once we get to be the bottom of this,” Zatanna says reaching out a reassuring hand to Dinah while shooting John an annoyed look. He rolls his eyes a bit and she rolls hers right back. “What happened tonight Di?”

Dinah squawks once and groans in frustration. “Everything was fine, party was in full swing. People were loving the spooky house; the kids were loving getting to jump out and scare everyone. It was a blast, there was one little snafu where Emiko sliced her finger while cutting the cake before people started arriving, but it was nothing to write home about. Then about an hour into things stuff started happening. A spider that I could have sworn was faked moved and the fake brain in the bowl started to actually smell a little off; people kept getting way more lost than they should have in the scary house levels. And then it became pretty clear something was up when Hal turned into a literal werewolf when his costume wasn’t even that good in the first place. Ollie and I chased after him when he ran but we got separated, that’s how I ended up down here turning into a bird before I could find anything and watching as the windows and doors literally sealed up behind me.”

“So that was Hal we ran into downstairs,” Zatanna says looking briefly to John.

“No weird uninvited guests? No hex bags that weren’t decoration? Symbols that shouldn’t be there? A distinct smell of sulfur? Anything like that?” John questions his arms crossed standing behind Zatanna.

Dinah shakes her head. “No. Nothing-squawk!-like that,” she pauses. “Wait, I mean there was a symbol, but it couldn’t have been anything.”

“In our world symbols are always something,” Zatanna says gripping Dinah’s shoulder. “What was it?”

“It was stupid, I mean, Oliver and I were finishing up the party space last night-squawk!-and Ollie thought the floor was missing something. We were out of fake blood, but there was this book packed up in the decorations called Love Spells for Beginners and there was a symbol in it that looked cool, the book was so fake there was no way it could be real.”

“A lot of wanna be witches and mystics out there write books like that and don’t realize the very real stuff they’re tapping into,” Zatanna says dropping her hand from Dinah’s shoulder. “Do you know where the book ended up or happen to have a very detailed memory of the symbol so we can see what it looks like?”

Dinah pauses in thought for a second. “A picture!” she says fumbling around in her feathers. She pulls her phone out from somewhere.

“You got a feather pocket in there or something?” John asks with a raised brow.

“You don’t wanna know,” she sighs on a little squawk as she unlocks her phone and turn it towards them. On the screen is a picture of the main party room, Zatanna takes the phone zooming in on the floor turning up the screen brightness and shifting it in her hands so that John can see as well. They recognize the symbol immediately.

“Chaos,” he groans running a hand through the floppy bits of his hair at the front.

“Yup,” Zatanna says with a groan of her own. She hands the phone back to Dinah who looks at them questioningly.

“It’s a summoning for Chaos,” John explains pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Chaos doesn’t have a physical form anymore, not really but with the right symbol and a little blood sacrifice the concept can be released grasping onto its surroundings and twisting it until there’s nothing but insanity and fear.”

“Well it’s not like we slaughtered a goat to prepare for the evening,” Dinah defends.

Zatanna sighs. “No, but you said Emiko cut her hand upstairs, right?” Dinah nods in conformation. “That’s all it takes sometimes; she probably flicked her hand out and a few drops got on the symbol enacting it.”

“How does something like that end up in a Love Spells for Beginners book?” Dinah questions.

“Could have been purposeful malice, someone wanting to quite literally sow the seeds of chaos on unsuspecting lovesick fools,” Zatanna says. It’s happened before, dark wizards sneaking their own little mayhem into books that novices buy as trinkets.

“But more likely it’s an amateur who thinks all magic is rainbows and love spells fucked around found a symbol they thought was pretty and applied it to a potion that’s really just a posh cucumber water with an off-color tint,” John says rolling his eyes at the stupidity of people who write books like that. It’s more likely reasoning, far too many movies and pop culture misunderstandings have led to novices getting in way too deep. “They think they’re just harmlessly helping people, but they’re putting average desperate folk in real danger.”

“Never draw a symbol you don’t know from a book is kind of a top five rule for magics,” Zatanna says with a reassuring smile. It’s not Dinah’s fault or Oliver’s really, they aren’t the first without extensive knowledge of the world of magic to be bamboozled.

“Can we reverse it?” Dinah asks.

“All we have to do is destroy the symbol, everything will revert back,” John says adjusting the tie around the wound on his arm scratching at it.

“But we need to find our way up to the party fast since it’s sounds like you, Ollie and Hal were the only ones that made it out, before someone gets hurt or killed while in their costume form or killed by a living decoration,” Zatanna says. “We also need to do it quietly,” she says meeting Dinah’s eyes just as she squawks again.

“Well I can’t control it,” she pouts. Zatanna reaches out a hand placing over Dinah’s mouth that thankfully hasn’t formed into a beak.

“Pots gnikwauqs,” she says and drops her hand. Dinah opens her mouth bracing herself for another loud squawk but nothing comes out and she smiles. “Now that that’s solved, personally I’m tired of running around these halls blindly.”

She raises her hands closing her eyes. “Ekil elttil der edwollof eht sbmurcdearb tel su lla wollof eht srehtaef,” she says and the scattered feathers of Dinah lining the halls start to lift into the air, floating their way down the hall.

“Follow the feathers,” Zatanna says gesturing forward. The three of them walk cautiously until they’re led to another set of stairs that take them right up to the third floor. A few small doors line the hall and at the end a large ornate one stands. Zombie Oliver stands by the door scraping at it and groaning desperately trying to be let in.

“Oh, Ollie,” Dinah says a little sadly as she starts making her way towards him.

“Woah, he wasn’t too friendly last we met,” John says reaching out and stopping her. She shrugs him off.

“It’s Oliver, I’ll be fine,” she says walking up to him a little slowly, completely non-threatening. He stops his scratching and turns moaning when he spots her. He doesn’t rush her like he had them and the hellhound downstairs.

“There, there good zombie Oliver,” she says reaching out and patting at his shoulder. He snips at her with his teeth and she gives him a stern look that has the zombie looking downright sheepishly at the ground.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” John says meeting Zatanna’s eyes. She huffs in disbelief taking John’s arm careful of the werewolf slash. Oliver’s groans get a little more frustrated when they get close, but the presence of Dinah seems to keep him in check enough that they won’t be losing any brains tonight.

Zatanna drops John’s arm watching as he scratches at it again. She grips both large doorhandles and whispers a spell unlocking the magic keeping them shut tight. The doors blast open revealing the large party room that’s in total disarray.

She steps in John right at her back while Dinah usher’s zombie Oliver inside and settles him down in a corner. Various costumed people are huddled against walls in fear, food and broken glass are strewn all across the floor. Zatanna brushes some cobwebs that were probably fake earlier in the evening off her shoulder just as a mouse wearing glasses that looking shockingly like the one’s Clark dons runs around her skirt. She jumps back a bit, careful not to accidentally smash a foot down on little mouse Superman.

The symbol is stark white on the center of the dance floor, Zatanna and John circle around it for a moment. John let’s out a sharp, pained sound causing Zatanna’s eyes to lift up from the symbol.

“John?” she says stepping towards him. He wraps one arm around his stomach groaning in pain again extending his other hand out to stop her from coming any closer. Where large hands with calloused skin once was there is now fur, long nails protruding out longer and longer. Zatanna trips back when John’s head tosses up his eyes glowing yellow. Dinah becomes alert on the other side of the room, starting to move.

“You tame your beast, I’ll tame mine,” Zatanna says sending a look of assured confidence her way.

“Fake werewolf, makes fake werewolf it seems,” John groans out before letting out another moan of pain his canine’s slipping into longer, sharper teeth.

“Fuck,” Zatanna spits out looking around as John falls to his knees in pain both hands gripping into the wood claws digging in as the first few buttons at the top of his shirt begin to pop, his spine arching up unnaturally. Her eyes fall on a gleaming axe in the corner and she rushes over to it. She vaguely remembers Roy saying something about a Paul Bunyan costume as she lifts the axe gripping it tight.

She runs back over to the symbol brining the axe high above her head before slamming it down into the dead center of it. She lifts the axe back up whacking it down three, four more times hacking at the symbol. John cries out again. She drops the axe once the wood is splintered and broken pulling at the boards with her hands till the symbol is completely dismantled. A ripple of magic rolls over the house, the sound of every door unlocking and windows reshaping loudly crashing around them.

She looks over watching as the fur recedes form John’s arms and his hands slip back into the shape they should be. All around her people start to wake up, returning to themselves; the mouse with glasses walks across the food table and suddenly returns back to the shape of one Clark Kent sitting in a bowl of chips, Dinah no longer feathered moves Oliver’s face no longer covered in real rot back and forth.

“Am I allowed to be a grump now?” John asks lifting his head as he crawls over the mess of the floor to Zatanna’s side.

“Yeah,” she says with a breathy laugh, shifting her legs just before John falls on his back his head on her thigh. She reaches out twisting the floppy hair at the front of his head around her fingers. “Yeah you can be.”

People start filing out after that, they leave the exits to Dinah and Ollie, it’s their party after all, and sit on the floor nodding when people pass them by and give them their thanks for saving the night.

Hal ambles his way upstairs eventually, apologizing to John for their tussle. John waves it off not even opening his eyes from where he still rests against Zatanna’s thigh.

Soon enough, it’s down to just the four of them. Dinah walks over first two bottles of beer in each of her hands Oliver trailing behind her. She passes two bottles to Zatanna as she folds herself cross legged on the floor twisting open the other two. Zatanna taps the bottom of one bottle on John’s chest and his eyes fly open, he takes it from her uncapping it and lifting his head up just enough for one long drink, practically draining half the bottle in one go, before laying his head back down on her thigh.

Oliver falls to the ground behind Dinah, the two adjusting so she’s caged between his legs leaning back into him as he takes one of the bottles from her. Oliver has taken off the zombie makeup, but left the rest of his costume on, sans hat, now that she sees them in what they were originally wearing Zatanna can’t help but think they look quite cute.

“Well, that was a memorable party you guys threw,” Zatanna says taking a sip from her beer.

Dinah snorts, not squawks thankfully. “I can just see it now, nobody’s gonna come to next year’s bash,” she sighs into her bottle.

“Attendance may take a hit next year,” Zatanna says swirling the beer inside her bottle around and Dinah sighs. She and Oliver love doing these shindigs.  

Oliver seems distracted behind Dinah swishing his beer around in his mouth before swallowing and then opening and closing his mouth several times.

Zatanna taps John on the shoulder and his eyes open, she nods Oliver’s way and John’s head shifts watching as Oliver makes a face like he’s eaten something sour.

“Ugh, why is there fur in my mouth?” Oliver grumbles picking a large clump of fur from his teeth. Zatanna chokes back a gag while John snickers.

“You may have had a bit of a hellhound snack earlier this evening,” John says lifting his head up again still chuckling as he takes another swig of his beer.

“Hellhound snack?” Oliver says flicking the offending ball of hair far away as he can.

“You know that animatronic one you had on the second floor?” Zatanna questions. Oliver nods. “Well, there was a bit of a tumble between the two of you. Good news said tumble prevented you from eating either of our brains and you won said tumble,” Zatanna says with a bright smile.

“Yuck,” he says making an absolutely disgusted face. He even passes up the opportunity to make a ‘John doesn’t have any brains’ retort which really hones in on how disgusted he is. “I didn’t like eat it whole right?”

Zatanna and John both shrug. “We hid, saw the aftermath and it was pretty mangled looking,” Zatanna says.

“Um, weird question, since everything reverted back to its former self the bits he ate aren’t going to like turn to metal in his stomach are they?” Dinah says rolling her bottle of beer between her hands.

“Nah, the guts and muscle never really existed so there’s nothing to revert back to,” John says lifting up fully from Zatanna’s thigh. He tosses back the rest of his beer then smiles all too brightly at Oliver. “But you’ll be coughing up those furballs for a few days I’d bet.”

He looks absolutely delighted by the fact, ignoring the glare Oliver sends his way before he coughs breaking the moment. Not doubt some fur tickling at his throat. Dinah pats his thigh.

John leaps up from the ground tossing his empty bottle into the mottled hole in the floor before reaching out a hand to Zatanna. She sets her bottle to the side taking his hand. He lifts her up from the floor pulling her into his side.

“Well,” Zatanna says wrapping one arm around his waist and resting the other on his chest just below where the busted buttons of his shirt are. “Happy fucking Halloween, my friends, I think we’ll be off now.”

“Thanks for coming,” Dinah says raising her bottle to them. “Like seriously thanks, night would have gone a lot worse if you guys had ditched.”

John fakes salutes her as Zatanna sends her best friend an air kiss that Dinah catches with a laugh before they start to walk on.

“Hey, Oliver,” Zatanna says stopping by him he swallows down a drink of beer, hard, looking up at her. “Never,” she stresses locking her eyes onto his. “Ever draw any symbol out of a book, no matter how fake that book may seem.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replies nodding his head once.

“Good,” she says patting him on the shoulder just a little too hard before continuing walking. They stay locked together all the way down both sets of stairs that they find easily until they reach the front door, the very much still there front door.

“You know what’s funny?” John says twisting his back a bit once they’re outside the air comfortably chilly and the moon high in the sky. “The werewolf spine popping did wonders for my back pain.”

Zatanna chuckles pulling him to a stop when they pass through the creaking gates.

“Oh, John Constantine, what’s a place like you doing in a boy like this?” she says with a smile the moonlight twinkling in her eyes.

John chuckles leaning down to press their lips together as the scarecrow in the yard cackles into the night.

#my fic #johnzee #john constantine #zatanna zatara #magicblazersource #happy halloween y'all!! #dinahollie #dinah lance #oliver queen

[screenshotsforthelovelies]

I posted 125 times in 2022

That's 110 more posts than 2021!

90 posts created (72%)

35 posts reblogged (28%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@screenshotsforthelovelies

@totemsp2

@daily-grump-moments

@holymusicalmothman

@depressionshitposts

I tagged 125 of my posts in 2022

#game grumps - 118 posts

#ten minute power hour - 115 posts

#arin hanson - 115 posts

#dan avidan - 113 posts

#screenshot - 113 posts

#screenshots - 110 posts

#funny - 99 posts

#reblog - 9 posts

#markiplier - 5 posts

#not a screenshot - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 90 characters

#this made me giggle so much when i came across it with no co text in my screenshots folder

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

They return!

91 notes - Posted February 16, 2022

#4

Trying to communicate with your friend across the room using only your eyes

99 notes - Posted April 17, 2022

#3

Cats in the corner of the room at the most inconvenient times

110 notes - Posted May 11, 2022

#2

My favorite screenshots are the ones where one of them looks normal and the other's face is all... ya' know

232 notes - Posted April 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

It's like when you get all your childhood friends back together

268 notes - Posted March 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

Hi guys! I'm not quite ready to come back full force yet, but this is pretty cool. Thanks for being a fun part of my 2022!

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #not a screenshot #screenshot person speaks