#not your jam dont use it for toast

[magnoliasandarson]

now i lay me down to sleep

Catherine Todd was raised Catholic. Cathy the Catholic. It was one of the universe's great ironies how her life ended up. Jason remembered her now.

A few feet away was his biological mother. Watching as he was bludgeoned while smoking a cigarette, not a wrinkle on her botox-smoothed face. Even when Catherine was so strung out she could barely string a sentence together, she had looked at him like he was precious. Sheila, however, saw only a bug she had to squash in order to save her own hide.

He was dying. He knew it. For all of his refusal to let the Joker see him cry, he knew this was the end. He had failed, just like Bruce knew he would. This was what he got for trying to play hero. He thought of Catherine now.

She had sat him down and taught him how to pray the rosary when he was small. He must've forgotten it over the years. To be entirely fair, he'd never really believed her when she told him that the meek would inherit the earth. Not when Willis kicked the shit out of him, not when he was living in a dumpster, and especially not now, as he faced his inevitable end.

Catherine had believed in heaven and hell. Jason had wiped tears off of her face when she sobbed about how her failures in this life damned her. But when she died, Jason found himself hoping against hope that his Ma was in a nice place. Wherever that may be.

His lungs were punctured. He felt like he was drowning even as he struggled to breathe. Jason wanted to curl up into a ball- to escape for a second, but if he moved, then his shattered ribs would dig further into his organs. He closed his eyes to the demonic red smile and thought of Catherine Todd. She had prayed over him when she was sober. They would kneel on the floor next to their shared futon and she taught him to pray. Jason couldn't find it in himself to pray now.

Bruce probably thought Jason was going to hell. After all, the old man thought Jason had killed a man in cold blood. Jason had never read the bible or anything, but he was fairly certain that 'no killing' was a big one. He hadn't killed Felipe, he hadn't, but he hadn't saved Felipe either. Was that enough to damn him?

As the crowbar swung down to smash into the back of his skull, he thought of Catherine Todd. Was she waiting for him? Wherever she was? Would she smile at him and welcome him into her arms, or would she, too, be disgusted by what he had become?

When the bomb went off, and the flames and agony gave way to peaceful darkness, Jason basked in the feeling that whatever was next, he would find out.

Then he was drowning in toxic green flames and he knew.

Jason Peter Todd was damned.

#dc comics #dc universe #batman #jason todd #robin #batfam #bruce wayne #sheila haywood #catherine todd #the death of jason todd #the joker #dc joker #joker #robin ii #robin jason todd #bruce and jason #religious themes #sad hours #crowbar #willis todd #catherine todd was catholic #in my mind #i dunno i knew a cathy the catholic and thought oh theres an idea #not your jam dont use it for toast #but if it is #be sad #lets be sad together #lazarus pit

[fungifanart]

Hello there! Ive read your rules about requests just to make sure I dont request anything you dont like-

Anyway, Ive read some of your twst works, and I LOVE them! Their so amazing! Anyway can I request a riddle x m!reader just having a tea party date? That would be wonderful! Its ok if you dont do this request tho!

Tea For Two

Characters: Male reader, Riddle Rosehearts, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade

Cw: Mild cartoon violence

Word count: 807

Notes: That's so sweet! Thank you for your kind words!

-----------------------------------------------------

Riddle paces back and forth in front of the gazebo as he mentally goes over the list of everything he'd done to prepare for afternoon tea with you:

Fresh darjeeling tea? Check.

Toast with your choice of jam or butter? Check.

A wide variety of cookies, scones and miniature sandwiches laid out on a tea tower? Check.

Ace and Deuce being ordered to trim the bushes on the FAR opposite end of the hedge maze? Double check.

Riddle stops pacing to look over the table underneath the gazebo one last time, ensuring that he's content with the placement of everything, which he is, although he can't help but feel a little sad at the absence of a tart of any description.

When Riddle had first made the suggestion of afternoon tea, you specifically requested he not have any tarts prepared, much to his surprise and disappointment.

But still, what is a relationship without making compromises?

And so, Riddle decided to respect your wishes and leave tarts out of the preparations.

Riddle is then pulled from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps behind him and he turns around to see his lovely boyfriend approaching with a soft expression.

"Y/N! Wonderful to see that you made it!" Riddle says happily as he walks toward you before noticing a small box you're carrying in your hand, "May I ask what you have there?"

You give a small giggle before responding, "It’s a surprise! Let's sit down first." You say while motioning to the table.

Riddle nods as he and you walk to the table while talking happily to each other, so happily, in fact, that neither of you notice the sound of rustling leaves slowly getting closer.

After you both sit down, you proudly place the box in front of Riddle and begin to speak, somehow still not noticing the leaf rustling getting ever closer, "It’s been a while since we've been able to be alone like this, so I decided to make something special for you! I spent a whole week looking up and trying different recipes to make sure these were perfect just for–"

Your sentence is cut off by Ace and Deuce crashing through the hedge parallel to your table while throwing punch after punch at each other.

Riddle's curiosity at your creations is immediately replaced by fury at his underclassmen as he stands up to reprimand them before the butter knife suddenly disappears from the table and finds itself forcefully embedded in a wooden plank between the two freshmen's faces, causing all parties to freeze in shock.

Riddle watches as you wordlessly stand up with a blank expression, walk over to where the knife is and yank it out of the wood before pointing it at the freshmen and then using it to threaten them by making a cutting motion over your neck as both of their faces go pale.

Ace and Deuce run off as you sigh and sit back down at the table while Riddle does the same, albeit very stunned and mildly impressed by how you handled the troublemakers.

"Anyways, as I was saying," You begin calmly, leaving the large hole in the hedges to be dealt with later, "I put a whole week into making sure I could make these perfectly just for you!"

Riddle's eyes widen as you finally open the box, revealing six miniature tarts of various colors looking back at him. He sees a lemon tart and a blueberry tart among others, but most importantly, he sees a bright red strawberry tart at the center that feels like it's almost calling out to him.

Riddle stares dumbfoundedly as you take the miniature tarts out of the box and lay them out for him in all their glory, "So this is why you asked for no tarts…?" He says in awe.

You scratch your cheek sheepishly while responding, "Heh, yeah. It made me sad to see you so disappointed, but I wanted it to be a surprise." You say while reaching over to take Riddle’s hand in yours, "And…what kind of boyfriend would I be if I couldn't do something special for you?"

Riddle feels his cheeks instantly turn as red as the strawberry tart in front of him as he intertwines his fingers with yours and maintains loving eye contact with you for several minutes before the cheesiness of the situation settles in, bringing an awkward atmosphere with it.

"So…do you, uh, wanna try the tarts now?" You say as you let go of Riddle’s hand to bring yours to the back of your head awkwardly.

Riddle can't help but miss the warmth of your hand in his, but he still smiles softly at your question, "I'd like that very much." He responds while placing the strawberry tart on his plate and grabbing his knife and fork.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst riddle #riddle rosehearts #twst x reader #twst x male reader #twst ace #twst deuce #ace trappola #deuce spade #why is this mushroom writing fanfics? #MY MUSE ISN'T DEAD GUYS #REJOICE

[sirmidezz]

Rambo head canons

Except it's just me projecting

-had a hippie faze himself up until he got drafted. After that his entire perspective changed on them.

-calling him a sad shelter dog is a understatement. He is a soggy wet rez dog that trautman found on the side of the road and gave a hot dog to.

-John's sad puppy dog eyes are not only used for looking at things, but also to secretly hypnotize any waiter lady to get free appetizers.

-he can sing he just doesn't want to. (Let this man sing a Johnny Cash song and be prepared to fall in love.)

-knows so many insults but doesn't use them mostly because he is genuinely a nice guy and doesn't like hurting peoples feelings unless the other person deserves a good word with him.

-he can be mean and not think twice about it, but he chooses not to.

-want to watch a movie with him? He will fall asleep as soon as he sits down on the couch.

-hides candy in his sock drawer to feel in control of himself. (Same)

-he buys candy he doesn't even like just to hide it. (Same)

-don't ever ask John for money. He doesn't have anything to provide and will only give you his thoughts n prayers.

-"ur transgener?" John will understand, he doesn't judge anyone. He grew up around 2 spirited people.

-John will never understand a "deez nuts" joke so please dont make them around him he will only look at you confused and stare at you after you make the joke.

-he has a pair of dad glasses he uses to read any letter sent to him. You want to show him a meme? Watch him pull out a pair of glasses and not laugh at the meme.

-he doesn't want a pet but if you get him a pet he will treat the pet like his own baby.

-when he was younger he learned how to hoop dance. He doesn't know how to dance now which is honestly very disappointing. (Same but with another dance😭)

-unironically goes "hehehe" when he gets what he wants like extra jam on his toast.

-has that generational trauma on BOTH sides. (Got hit with a double whammy)

-looks Lana Del Rey, but is actually mitski.

-almost never cries, but when he does someone probably died. Like nothing else but loss (and his talking about his past) can make this man break down nowadays.

-if he were a line in a song it would be, "cause now I'm scared that everyone I love will leave me," (family line by Conan grey)

-if someone sat john down looked him in the eyes, held his hands and said, "your soul needs peace, you need to releive your anger not with violence, but with a gentle breath, allow yourself to feel for one last time." Then he will cry. Like full on ugly cry into your shoulder and let out pained groans and whimpers typa shit.

-he has big parental issues only he distances himself away from everybody he ever gets attached to in fear of being hurt again.

-he craves physical touch, only he gets so uncomfortable when someone hugs him.

-this man can deadlift 300. maybe even more, he can go walking miles without stopping once. hell he is a whole unit, but he will not go to the kitchen to get you a cup of water no matter how much you ask him.

-hates mushrooms.

-had a pet crawdad he accidentally lost. (It's still alive somehow, he just doesn't know it.)

-thugs it out on a daily. 💯💯 (I will pay for his therapy)

#john rambo #rambo #sly stallone #sylvester stallone #digital art #im so tired #i wanna kms #headcanon #bro i love him #native american #goofy ahh

[juniper-c]

Folks from the US getting condescending about people not from the states has to be my least favourite genre of posts. Like, i swear every other week I see some shit written in half baked (british) english slang about baked beans or jellied eels or rotten teeth and it drives me up the wall. Just a bunch of fundamental misunderstandings about a place they've never been too with little to no curiosity about what life might actually be like there.

Im only coming at this from a UK angle so cant speak for anywhere else but a quick rundown on all this shit states side people get wrong about our food specifically because thats what winds me up the most.

Beans on toast is a cheap staple breakfast food, not the cornerstone of our cullinary tradition.

In most urban city centers you get a complex mix of diaspora informed food stuffs, primarily indian and east asian because of all that colonialism we did. Relatively large muslim populations also bring in middle eastern influences.

Even what you might think of as a classic british pub will sell you a basic curry unless you're in the arse end of nowhere. This is not niche shit. Our whole food culture is shaped by this.

What you could call 'classic' british cooking like full roast dinners with Yorkshire puddings, propery gravy, sruffung, and all the other fixings are fucking great actually. Bit of lamb with mint, bit of pork with apple sauce, cut of beef with mustard. It goes hard.

Even if you are in the arse end of nowhere stuff like pasties, proper pies, stews with dumplings, fish and chips, and other sea side holiday basics that make you think of little coves in north devon are also good, actually. Yes its not spiced to all hell and back, but they incoperate herbs and vegatables and stocks in ways that give it a unique depth of flavour distinct from cultures informed by a more spice heavy tradition.

Say what you will about our shit (complimentary) chicken shops and rubbery high street donner in years of nights out blind drunk in student bits of the city they've never once given me the gastric distress y'all describe post taco bell.

Of course our mexican food isn't particularly authentic, the countries half a planet away and we dont have a large mexican diaspora. What we do have is tuned for mass market appeal by largish chains or sold out of artisinal taco food trucks that we all find a bit wanky tbh.

Spicy food exists, and we quite like it. Yes even pasty white tony who turns the colour of jam when he eats a medium hot vindaloo. Indian food is a cornerstone of our national diet of course we know what chilli powder is.

And finally nobody eats fucking jellied eels it was a victorian era poverty food and even then only in london.

Also our chocolate is better than yours because we dont put the weird chemical in it that makes it taste like sick. Eat a kit kat and die mad about it.

#Had to get this rant out of my heart #Dungeon Meshi got me amped about food clearly #there is a reason our chefs go on your telly to yell at your guys #please dont break containment though spare me the disk horse

[mockingbirdshymn]

giving camp camp characters favorite foods

preston: french toast and bagels with cream cheese. he really likes blueberry bagels and blueberry muffins. he's a breakfast food kinda guy

harrison: bannana bread!!!! he really seems like a bananna bread guy. and a hot dog guy too, he definitely loves hot dogs

nerris: pizza. only cheese pizza, though, she doesn't like pepperoni. their dad always orders one during long dnd sessions that take up most of the evening. she likes dominos especially because their dad orders the cookie brownies too when they get dominos

max: smiley french fries. he also likes to press them down in a pile of ketchup to make the ketchup ooze out of their eye and mouth holes like blood. (im hoping that was a universal kid thing and that i wasnt just weird as fuck)

nikki: pb&j uncrustables!! she likes normal pb&js the same, though. she only eats them with either strawberry or blackberry jam

neil: lunchables. despite how hes well aware how unhealthy they are, he likes the fact theyre compact and he can take them anywhere with ease

space kid: his mother's chocolate chip cookies and dinosaur egg oatmeal (the kind where the egg melts over time in the oatmeal to reveal a colored dino inside)

dolph: shaped mac & cheese (ie. dino mac n' cheese, spongebob mac, etc.) he won't eat the normal macaroni (he only uses it for macaroni art)

ered: oreos, specifically the weird oreo flavors or double stuffed, and sonic drive thru

nurf: dinosaur nuggets but only the soggy ones you get at lunch at your shitty school that are soaked in like corn juice or some shit because i dont like nurf

david: sandwiches! lettuce, tomato, turkey, ham, mayo, onion, he has it all. he packs one every day for max to bring to school. max doesnt like them but he pretends to so that david feels happy

gwen: sushi!! she seems like a sushi lover. she probably eats a lot of cups of noodles

cameron campbell: his mother's oatmeal raisin cookies

bonus:

space kid has an uncanny resistance to spice. kids at camp started to feed him spicy stuff but he never seemed to react.

harrison once sobbed as a kid bc he ate deer and got upset because deer are cute and he ate one without knowing it was a deer :(

nikki always gives her leftovers to the pigeons in the city she lives near whenever she eats there. even if she doesnt have any, she makes sure to give some to the city birds. pigeons never forget a face, and they follow nikki whenever shes in the city. shes started bringing crumbs and food in her pockets to scatter behind her whenever they show up.

#youll find that all of these are simple/basic #and i mean they are #theyre just kids after all #camp camp #cc preston #cc harrison #cc nerris #cc max #cc nikki #cc neil #cc space kid #cc dolph #cc ered #cc nurf #cc david #cc gwen #cc cameron campbell #headcanons #implied dadvid #we love dadvid on this tumblr blog

[dogtheories]

hey matt respectfuly what is wrong with you. why are you eating strawberry jam with a cheese single

youre just saying this because you havent tried it. look its even a thing on google that exists but i wouldnt put them together like that in a toasted sandwich just two separate pieces of toast is fine i dont want the cheese to melt. see using a cheese single is imperative because it doesnt taste like much. but its good. try it sometime

#soda.exe

[justsomerandomfanfic]

hi! i saw you did mashups on your blog and i was wondering if i could get one for x-men/lord of the rings?

im 20yrs old, my names phoenix, im 5'0 and have smaller green eyes and bright ginger hair, and i love few things in this world as much as toast and david bowie.

{some} of my favorite things are;

the color blue, stars/moons,classic lit, tea, spiderman anddd 90s movies<3

{some} things i hate aree; a court of thorns and roses, ppl who mock taylor swift andd bigots [i dont hate most things lol]

im pretty shy but when i get talking i dont shut up and can get bored quite easliy, i could talk for hours about starwars and i have a super protective baby sister who i love to pieces<3

hope this isnt to much idk how these things work- have a perfectly lovley day!

Heyy!! Thank you so much for requesting a matchup! The info you have presented to me is excellent, don't worry! (Love your name btw) I hope you enjoy the matchup!! Thanks again! <333

X-Men;

Hank McCoy:

💙 You met Hank when you became the new music teacher at Professor X's mansion for Gifted Youngsters, (your 'superpowers' as you call them, are amazing, you can mentally manipulate the energy generated by stars as well as their electromagnetic, gravitational, radiation and cosmic energies)

💙 Hank, being the science professor, you had passed each other in the halls many times when you went to a from classes; you, as a music professor, and sometimes English substitute, help kids with music theory and how to read notes, and some days you show the kids' different music genres and just jam out all together

💙 You and Hank began to talk more and more, being co-workers and all, it was a bit awkward and slow in the beginning on both of your parts, Hank was almost as shy as you when it came to you first talking, but she got used to you and vise versa, and both of you became quick friends

💙 When he didn't have classes to teach, Hank would visit you during classes, watching you with the kids and sometimes joining in and nervously trying to play the violin; after a couple of weeks though, Hank asked if you wanted to join him for tea

💙 You both made tea in the kitchen, laughing and making jokes as you both then left and walked around the gardens of the mansion outside; Hank loved how much you cared about your favorite topics and interests, like David Bowie, Spiderman, and 90's movies

💙 Hank was a bit worried originally when he began talking to you, that you'd be afraid of him after he fully turned into the Beast, so he tried his best to avoid you, but you found him and Hank was scared, he really liked you; you reassured him that you'd like him no matter what, (along with telling him that your favorite color was blue)

💙 You began dating not long after, and you two would spend a lot of time together when you both weren't working or fighting baddies, watching the stars on a balcony in the mansion, reading together in the library by the fire, or just cuddling while music softly played in the background; it was nice, dream-like, perfect

💙 Hank finds you captivating, from your green eyes to your bright ginger hair, and he was fascinated by your love of Star Wars, admiring you as you ranted on and on about your favorite plots and characters, you were so amazing

💙 You found yourself falling more and more in love with Hank, finding him extremely sweet, caring, funny... You were so impressed by his intelligence, and how his brain worked, often times you'd just watch him in the lab, just watching the gears in his head turn

💙 You two were inseparable, two peas in a pod, you two understood each other so perfectly; you never thought you'd find someone like Hank, and you were so happy that you did

--

Lord Of The Rings;

Legolas Greenleaf:

🏹 You were part of the Fellowship, having an incredible talent for reading maps and following stars, you met Legolas the very same day the Fellowship banded together

🏹 You found him attractive, tall, and pretty funny with his slightly snarky comments, but it took you a while until you finally spoke to him

🏹 When you did speak to each other, you brought up that you both used a bow and arrow to fight orcs and whatnot, Legolas actually gave you a few tips and even taught you how to shoot two arrows at once

🏹 Legolas found you strikingly beautiful when he first laid his eyes on you, your bright hair immediately caught his blue eyes and he loved how much you loved the stars and moon, along with music in general; he'd find you humming sometimes when you and the rest of the Fellowship were walking

🏹 When the two of you grew closer as friends, you and Legolas would watch the stars and stargaze when you were both on night watch, talking about the stars and their constellations, along with some stories from your lives

🏹 After walking for a good hour, you found yourself getting terribly bored, wanting to stimulate your brain in some way, you began to collect flowers while walking, humming as you began to intertwine the stems together; making a flower crown out of wildflowers

🏹 After making the first flower crown, you made another, placing the first on your head before rushing up to toss the second flower crown on Legolas's head; Legolas loved the crown, his cheeks red as you admired how the bright yellow and blue flowers brought you his hair and eyes

🏹 As the feelings for each other began to grow, you and Legolas both confessed to each other once you both found yourselves in Lothlórien

🏹 Legolas became pretty protective of you, reminding you of your younger sister, making sure that you were alright after every orc attack, which you found adorable and sweet

🏹 You and Legolas were the perfect match, bringing out the best in each other as well as loving every single moment you both spent with one another; life was idyllic and wonderful, and you couldn't wait for the future

#matchup #matchups #requests open #anon request #requested #request #requests #requests are open #xmen #x-men #the lord of the rings #lord of the rings #lord of the ring #the lord of the ring #lotr #tolkien #marvel #cute #fluff #slight angst #hank mccoy #hank mccoy x reader #hank mccoy x gn reader #hank mccoy x you #hank mccoy x y/n #legolas #legolas x reader #legolas x gn reader #legolas x you #legolas x y/n

[skiasurveys]

survey by xalikattx

FOOD

What is your favorite salad dressing?

Italian or Caesar idk it depends on the salad

Favorite sit-down restaurant?

Earls

Favorite pizza topping?

Chicken, mushrooms, peppers and onions

What food could you eat for two weeks straight and not get sick of it?

Bananas or peanut butter i feel

What do you put on your toast?

Peanut butter or jam

What food do you eat the most?

Maybe eggs

Do you like food?

Yes.

Do you LOVE food?

yes, i really do. its the only joy i feel LMAO.

Do you even eat at all?

…??

What do you put on your ice cream?

it depends. sometimes nothing, sometimes sprinkles and and choc sauce

Do you like steak?

omg yes

Or are you a vegetarian?

Nah

How about a vegan?

^

What food do you hate the most?

the only food I rly hate is spaghetti lol

TECHNOLOGY

How many TVs are in your house?

five

Do they all work?

yes

Do you have Comcast digital cable?

idk what that is lol

AT&T Uverse?

don't have that here

Dish Network?

No.

Something else?

Obviously. <-- same

What’s your favorite show?

breaking bad, this is us, and right now The Last of Us! I also like His Dark Materials.

What’s the worst show?

who knows, theres so many and I dont watch much tv or shows in general unless its something i see that has huge hype

What color cell phone do you have?

black

What kind?

iPhone 11 Pro Max

What does the first text message in your inbox say and who sent it?

im WAY too lazy to check

What was the last text you sent and who did you send it to?

"HELP" and to Krystal.

Who was the last person to call you?

My mom.

Who was the last person you called?

i think mom

CURRENTLY

Are you missing someone?

always

What are you listening to?

youtube video

Watching?

youtube video about 4chan lmfao

Worrying about?

nothing atm..

Where are you?

my bedroom

What’s it like there?

calm

How are you feeling?

sleepy

Is anyone with you? Who?

just my cat <3

Are you hungry?

nah

What do you want to eat?

Nothing atm, im pretty full.

Thirsty?

nah.

What do you want to drink?

Nothing atm.

What time is it?

9:37 PM

LASTS

Thing you ate?

a cinnamon roll

Thing you drank?

diet coke

Thing you said?

i dont remember hahah

Movie you watched?

i was watching we are heroes or something its caled

Store you went to? What did you buy?

Grocery store

Person you talked to?

my mom and sister

Person you hugged?

no idea

Kissed?

davis

Yelled at?

No idea, maybe my cat haha

Book you read?

The Stolen Heir by Holly Black

Thing you touched?

my cat

Person you became friends with on Facebook/Myspace/whatever other site?

i dont really remember, I think Melissa.

RANDOM

Are a righty or a lefty?

Righty.

Have you ever had anything removed from your body?

a tooth

What is the last heavy object you lifted?

my desk

Have any scars?

yes

How did you get them? Any interesting stories?

I got hit by a car, some are from self harm, and my cat.

if it were possible, would you want to know the day you’re going to die?

No

If you could change your name, what would you change it to?

sky or lucy

Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000?

maybe

How about 10 bottles of ketchup?

maybe idk

10 bottles of maple syrup?

no

A bottle of vinegar?

i would rather die.

10 jars of peanutbutter?

sure

How many pairs of flip flops do you own?

none

Favorite month?

september

Do you always answer your phone?

not always

It’s four AM and you get a text message, who is it?

probably Krystal

If you could change your eye color what would it be?

I wouldnt

Do you own a digital camera?

yes i do

Do you take lots of pictures of yourself?

I do but just for fun

Do you take them in front of the mirror in the bathroom?

sometimes

Have you ever had a pet fish?

I had some when I was young

Pet hamster?

when I was a kid

Bird?

no

Favorite Christmas movie?

I dont really have one

Favorite Christmas song?

christmas shoes

Can you do push ups?

like 2 hahahah

Can you do a chin up?

No I wish

Does the future make you nervous or excited?

Both.

Ever been in a car accident?

I got hit by a car

Do you have an accent?

canadian one I guess

What song always makes you cry?

somebody to love by queen

Have any plans for tonight?

Nah, maybe Ill game

What were you doing at 12 AM last night?

trying to sleep

What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up?

school

#surveys

[lionews]

Anyone that puts ketchup or syrup on eggs deserves prison time. Hot dogs should be made with ketchup, mustard, relish, or any combination of those. Chicken nuggets/strips belong with honey mustard. Unseasoned/only-salted fries can be paired with anything you want. And hot take but if you dip anything in hot sauce, prison time for you too. It's an ingredient. It goes in things. Put it in the recipe all you want (tacos for example) but quit DIPPING things in it 💔

Youre not gonna like this friend 😂

-I put sugar free syrup on my eggs and turkey sausages IF theyre paired with waffles/pancakes/french toast. If no theyre seasonal with garlic salt and pepper.

-I use the regular condiments on a hot dog, but I prefer chili. I dont eat regular hot dogs though. Cant have pork! So i use turkey or chicken.

-I eat regular salted fried with ketchup preferably, but i use icecream as a dip when im in the mood for it. Ranch sometimes too.

-I only eat chicken nuggets with ranch. Only ranch.

-I hate buffalo sauce

-I hate hot sauce

-I dont use your regular yellow mustard on my burgers. Sugar free ketchup and stone ground mustard. If i dont want those its either chili or bacon jam/jelly. Ik it sounds weird but I promise its so good. On a grilled cheese too.

.

[basketballandtextbooks]

Well, besides "sexual predator Kenny" that seems to plague every ship involving him, I think one fanon K/2 trend that annoys me is that Kenny seems to lose braincells when he's written next to Kyle. (Honestly, that happens often with other characters too cause KYLE SMART) I don't mind the idea of Kyle helping Kenny study, but why is Kenny almost always "FUCK BOOKS"? He's shown often reading stuff, that aren't pornos. And knows trivia that isn't always sexual. Let them exchange intelligence.

e x a c t l y

kenny might not be particularly book smart (although there is evidence to suggest that he is book smart) but there are different types of intelligence out there

this is honestly soured me on a lot of kenny ships ngl. and kyle ships. just the insistence of overplaying troped/cliched character traits that completely disregard any and all character depth or development either of them have had.

it really almost soured me to k2, i really enjoyed their interactions in canon but when i checked the fandom it was just... kenny is extremely dumb, perverted, and predatory. Kyle is extremely nerdy, weak, meek, and needs protection. it was such a bizarre bastardization of everything they are.

i ran into a minority of fans who draw/write kyle with an actual personality and kenny with any personality that remotely resembles his canon counterpart and it sold me on the ship. if i hadn’t found the fandom that actually cared about their personalities within canon I probably would have just dropped the ship pretty fast. so i guess a delayed thank you to those fans lol

i’ve been struggling with bunny a lot lately because despite enjoying the ship, i have yet to find quality fandom for them that isn’t super fanon and that’s just.. not my thing, thanks.

honestly i can be sold on almost any ship if the writing / art / meta isn’t just cringe levels of fanon bullshit. if you like fanon, I’m honestly happy for you, you get to enjoy a lot more fandom than I do. but I really really dont enjoy it.

#ooc #dont even get me started on druggie kenny again #i have PAGES written on that #most of the k2 fandom i run into is weak cute kyle and his multiple big strong suitors #big gag from me #if that's your jam use it on some toast and eat that shit up #but personally nothing turns me away from a ship more #than to see them turned into bland af tropes #Anonymous

[jangofctts]

The Slow Regard of Silent Things (mainly Thorin x (fem) Reader)

Rated: mature (no smut yet)  

Word Count: 4kish   

Warnings: none yet save for mature language, grumpy dwarves, an irritated Bilbo?? idk lmk if I miss anything for this first chapter kjkrjewh 

Summary: Tired of your life in the Shire, you seize the chance to follow the strange company of dwarves that arrive upon your doorstep to Erebor. Adventure, love, and danger are all wrapped together in this strange tale that you must navigate and untangle on your own. Good luck...

a/n: wow first time in a while that ive posted a fic here huh. this is gonna be a rewrite of the hobbit movies and I dont have a sEt pairing in mind yet it’s mostly gonna center around Thorin. WeLL enjoy wejhrkwejhr

Like any day, it begins the same as it always would in the Shire—awaking to the gentle morning light that floods through the white, woven curtains and the faint swooning of mourning doves lofted in the leaves. It is always paired with the fragrant blend of assorted teas that Bilbo took great care in amassing over the years and the bewitching smell of toast and juneberry jam. 

Mornings are always perfect at Bag End.

However, every strange day needs to have its dreary beginnings. It’s just rather unfortunate yours began with needing to arise well before the sun, a measly breakfast of lukewarm coffee, honey cakes, and a promised set of hands to help in the fields. Now, don’t be mistaken—you truly had no business plowing and seeding Master Brandybuck’s fields—not with your high social standing, no. Just a not so very selfless act of kindness in order to shirk your own responsibilities and your cousin’s pestilential nagging about Valar knows what. Doilies or maybe the cracked spine of a book you opened a little too far—you haven’t a clue. 

All that you do know is that there’s nothing like a hard days work to put your frustrations into and praying your karma won’t catch up to you. You only wish you had taken up on the Brandybuck’s offer to shuttle you back home because fuck—your entire back is a mess of knots. Your legs are a battleground of mud and bruises, and your skin is flushed from the harsh hours beneath the sun. You doubt you’ll be able to roll out of bed tomorrow.

Oh well—        

You’re nearly home anyway; accompanied by the chants of the cattails bowing to the sweet spring breeze along the edge of the Water and the cacophony of crickets and frogs chiming in with their constant hum. Only in the past fortnight or so had they emerged to sing, shaking off the frost and frigid rain from delicate limbs, heralding the oncoming sweetness of summer. 

You wish it would come sooner.  

Inhaling the crisp air laden with rain and the fleeing storm clouds, you hardly feel the chill of the patterned limestone underfoot, shining wet beneath the moon after the evening showers. Cold mud sticks to your feet like a second skin and Eru save you—Bilbo is going to have your head for making a mess out of the carpet for nearly the third time this week. You puff up your cheeks and release a long stream of air—such a worrywart that one. Not as much fun as he used to be. 

Granted, Bilbo does have about twenty or some years senior to yourself in age, but you can still recall a time when he’d readily agree to go in search of fairies and elves with you in the East Farthing Woods or play Orcs and Men till sunset. Hell—you still have the wooden sword he gifted to you on his thirtieth birthday (despite the uproar from your relatives all tittering and tripping over themselves, rushing to explain that a sword was no suitable gift for a young lady such as yourself). You scoff at the memory. They never did manage to separate you from the wooden blade, lest they desired a sharp whack to the leg and a handful of splinters.

You sigh—as much as you yearned for the simpler days of your youth, life has a tricky way of seeping through the cracks and twisting the golden threads of the past into dreary reality. Sure, as much as you scorn your cousin Bilbo’s inability to let go of all that tightly wound mess of anxiety and propriety—you’re mostly to blame for it. An unexpected burden shipped off to his parents, and after their untimely deaths, the role of caretaker rested solely on him. 

You sigh a second time, shake off the slender tendrils of guilt that weave up your spine, and shift the woven basket you hold into your left hand. A collection of jams, preserves, goat milk and cheeses you’ve acquired as payment for help in the fields. Again, exactly an ideal way to pass the time but heaps better than attending that dreadful tea party Lobelia Sackville-Baggins had been pestering you about for ages. Eru save you—you’d suffer one thousand blisters and scalding sunburns before you’d ever agree to spend an entire afternoon with the woman. Manners be damned—Bilbo will be irked upon hearing the news of your absence on the morrow but with the gifts you bring, you hope it’ll ease some of those ruffled feathers. 

Sadly, those gifts never did get delivered to your beloved cousin—

Upon arriving to the gate of Bag End, your delicate ears are greeted with the uproar of overly rambunctious dinner guests. You wince at the muffled shattering of a plate and the shadowy figures passing by the stained glass windows. Not an uncommon thing to witness in the Shire, but from your own cousin? At this hour? In the middle of April? Now that is a truly concerning thought to process. 

The worst comes to mind—thieves, vagabonds, Sackville-Baggins—all the horrors a simple Hobbit could conjure within a second it takes to draw a breath. With a newfound fire beneath your feet and not much forethought, you throw open the gate and scramble up the steps. Your big toe jams into the uneven stone due to your hastiness, you curse. Oh, stars above—you knew you should’ve been home earlier!   

Armed and ready to throw a fresh wad of gorgonzola at the nearest attacker in defense of your cousin, you charge through the front door and find a litany of…dwarves. 

It’s a downright mess—a dozen of them at least, pilfering the pantry with a jovial buzz as they swipe anything remotely resembling a chair to squeeze into the dinning room. Too dumbfounded to do anything but stare—your basket full of goods is snatched up by a floppy hatted dwarf. The fiend escapes with a devilish wink and a tip of his hat. Your mouth open and closes, tongue-tied and rushing to find a foothold to conquer your shock. The only words you manage is a pathetic, high pitched; “Hey!” 

You step after the dwarf in hopes of reclaiming your basket, but just as you do, the cheese you still hold in the other hand is plucked from your fingers and carried off. Vultures. “That’s mine!” 

All your protests are ignored and swept under the rug, lost in a sea of wild hair, unfamiliar accents, and strange clothes. You just about lose hope of finding a way out of the mass of bodies and accepting your fate as a secondary doormat when a warm hand clamps down around your wrist and yanks you into the safety of the library.              

“Where on earth have you been!”

Bilbo—

His round cheeks are alight with an irritated flush, hair mussed up from his restless hands running through it in attempt to self sooth instead of imploding. His fingers fidget with his suspenders, smoothing out nonexistent twists as he awaits your answer with the most harrowing glare he can muster. Which is, to put it plainly, as terrifying as a wee lamb dressed in a bowtie. “I’ve been worried sick all day! And don’t even get me started on this—these—these vagrants—”

Your frazzled nerves from first entering your home dim to a subtle thrum of curiosity for your surprise guests. You open your mouth to respond to Bilbo’s inquiry but your cousin has already pushed past you to peek around the corner of the wall. A younger dwarf with a mane of golden hair saunters past the library with Bilbo’s fine china stacked up to a height of well beyond reckless—Bilbo whines out a string of complaints.       

“I was helping Master Brandybuck with the fields—“ you explain, tracking your flustered cousin as he watches helplessly from afar. He groans as another dish shatters. “Bilbo, what is going on?”

“Ransacking our stores!” He cries. “I just picked those tomatoes today—they were perfectly ripe—“

Bilbo flits to the other side of the room, throws open the door and squawks in fear. “No, no no!” He shrieks. “Not my maps!”

You peak over his shoulder, witnessing the dwarf swaddled in knitted clothing commit this heinous crime of thumbing through Bilbo’s prized collection. Poor lad—he looks sweet. You stifle your giggle as your cousin barks your name, his face a wash of desperation and equal parts bewildered. “Help? Please?”

“What would you have me do, Bilbo?” You say incredulously. “Chase them off with a hot poker stick?” 

Bilbo’s lips purse, considers it, then waves his hand in dismissal. “Yes? No—no. Just-just make sure they don’t brake anything else!”

Bilbo swiftly exits the safety of the study, intent on salvaging anything he can. “And mind the door—don’t let anything else wander in!”

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose…here’s to an even longer night. 

^*^*^*^

Unlike your cousin, you quite enjoy your present company. Never had you seen such a merry bunch with a fierce distaste for table manners and a bottomless appetite that could rival a Hobbit’s. A vast change in pace from the civil proprieties the Shire encompasses—damn near stifling, if you’re being honest.

Your pinafore is stained with smatterings of airborne tomatoes and Eru knows what else—a sight to behold that would surely cause your own mother to roll in her grave. You’re exhausted, your feet hurt, and you hair is a mess—the thick curls tumbling out of the measly ribbon you’ve tied it back with. And yet…it’s the most fun you’ve had in years.  

A half eaten carrot grazes past you ear—you narrowly avoid it by sidestepping into the parlor. Taking a deep breath, you lean against the wall and fight back your fatigue. At this point in time the dwarves have calmed and moved about to infest other parts of the house, much to Bilbo’s dismay. His frazzled voice echoes through the halls, calling your name—you grimace. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, stinging from the pipeweed smoke and exertion. When you open them you startle. A young man—dwarf—had wandered into the parlor with you. You blink—he’s handsome…Raven black hair, messily pulled back with a silver clasp, a roughened swath of stubble over his cheeks and chin; paired with dark brows that rest above eyes that sparkle with a boyish gleam. Your heart skips a beat or two as his lips draw into a roughish smile.        

“Are you Master Boggins’s wife, then?”     

 Boggins?  

You bite the insides of your cheek to suppress your snicker. “Are you suggesting I’d marry my own cousin, Master Dwarf?”

His smile falters, brows shooting up to his hairline. “N-no. Forgive me, I didn’t—“

Waving away his attempts of apology, you crack a smile. “I’m only teasing—you didn’t know.”  

An embarrassed flush stains the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his abnormally large ears that poke out from his unruly hair. He smiles again. “Aye—I deserve your scorn, lass. Shouldn’t have stuck me nose in a fair maiden's business.” 

“You do it often, I presume.” You say, continuing to prod the poor dwarf. A nagging voice scolds you for speaking so freely to a stranger—a guest no less—but your ability to stop yourself from jumping headfirst into situations like these is zero to none. “Barging in and making a mess of their home?” 

This time he meets your humor leg for leg, brushing off the remaining embarrassment with another handsome grin. “Only if they are of exquisite beauty.” He wanders further into the room and extends his hand. “Will you honor me with your name, fair maiden?”

His flirtations earn him a laugh as you slide your fingers into his. They’re pleasantly calloused. “My friends call me Cricket.” 

He cradles your hand, folds at the waist into a dramatic bow that has the lapels of his overcoat brushing the floor, then shoots back up to his full height. A whole head taller than you. “A lovely name.”

You roll your eyes as the dwarf raises your hand to his mouth. If he’s even the least bit curious about the oddity of your chosen name, he shows no sign of it. Smart boy. 

Your heart flutters as his lips and rough stubble lightly scrape over your knuckles. “And do you have a name, Master Dwarf? Or are you simply here to flirt and then vanish into the night?”

His laugh is airy and bright. He returns your hand to your side. “It’s Kíli.”

“A fitting name for a flirt,” you say with a playful wink and a halfhearted curtsey. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Master Kíli.”

Kíli snorts, meaning to continue the banter, yet just as he opens his mouth to speak, his name is called. “Kíli! Where have you run off to, brother?” 

The owner of said voice pops into the parlor, needing to bow his head to avoid nicking it upon the low arching entryway. Thick tresses of golden hair flow over his wide shoulders, decorated with intricate silver beads and stray plaits. Unlike Kíli, this dwarf sports a fuller beard and a mustache, braided and bound with matching silver beads that frame his peony pink lips. How curious…     

“There you are!” He announces. “I’ve been—oh, hello.” Upon closer inspection of his brother, his eyes slide over Kíli’s shoulder and settle on you.

“Fíli!” Kíli greets. He slaps a hand over his brother’s shoulder to steer him into your little circle of conversation. “This is Master Baggins’—“

“Wife?” Fíli helpfully supplies. 

“Cousin.” Both you and Kíli correct in unison. 

Fíli’s mouth parts in a gentle oh of understanding, cornflower blue eyes indulging in another study of your figure. In no way was it lecherous—no—more so a simple, inquisitive glance. Not many are familiar with Hobbits after all—you’ll allow the lingering gazes. 

The corners of Fíli’s eyes crinkle as his lips pull into a kind smile. Oh Valar—why are they both attractive? “I hope my brother hasn’t bothered you too much, my lady. He’s awfully good at being a pest.” 

Kíli jostles his brother’s shoulder in protest, disputing his words with a disgruntled frown and more pathetic punches. Fíli rolls his eyes, catches Kíli’s entire face in his palm and shoves him away. Kíli stumbles, steadies himself and glares daggers into the back of his brother’s head. You meet the dark haired dwarf’s eye and smirk. “Oh, yes. Quiet a pest—he ate all my tea cakes. I just baked them last night, y’know.”

“Oh, fair maiden—you wound me!” Kíli cries, ignoring the fierce stare his brother sends him. “And here I thought we were friends.” 

“Kíli—“ Fíli hisses, attempting to cuff the younger dwarf over the ear. He avoids it with a laugh and dances to the doorway. Fíli stomps after him and shoos him into the hallway before any more damage can be done. “Go help with the dishes you blockhead.”  

Kíli briefly pops back into sight to send you a wink and a little wave of goodbye. “I’ll be seeing you again, fair maiden!” 

Fíli curses his little brother. He then halts at the archway and spares a moment to face you again. He clears his throat and dips his head in acknowledgment. “Sorry ‘bout him—it, uh, was nice to meet you, my lady.” 

“You as well,” you say, placing your hands on your hips. “However, I’m serious about the tea cakes. I expect reimbursement, Master Dwarf!” 

Fíli dutifully nods and strokes at his mustache between his forefinger and thumb. He flashes you a wide smile. “You have my word, my lady.”

Before you can backpedal and inform him that you were joking, Fíli disappears around the corner in search of his brother. You smile to yourself and shake your head. What an odd pair… 

                                                     ^*^*^*^

This is the worst day of his life, Bilbo concludes. This and the time his dear, beloved cousin released a menagerie of toads, fireflies, and crickets into the house. It took them weeks to completely eradicate the infestation. He shudders at the memory.    

But no—no, this was worse. Flying dishes and reckless galavanting, all in the name of poking fun and pushing Bilbo’s nerves to the very limit. Cricket is no help either—smiling and laughing along with the impromptu signing and merry entertainment. It’s a miracle everything survived—more so that the dwarves thoroughly cleaned and stacked said plates. His bewilderment shows plainly on his face and causes an uproar of laughter to follow. But just as it starts, it fades to a grinding halt.   

Three solemn knocks echo through the house.  

“Here is here,” Gandalf utters in a foreboding tone.  

The company, Cricket and Bilbo wander to the front door. The wizard is the first to open it and with a creak, the circular door reveals yet another dwarf. Refined and filling the space with regal command, he steps into the foyer, greets the wizard and tugs at the clasp of his heavy cloak. “I thought you said this place was easy to find. I lost my way—twice.”

The dwarf hands the heavy swathes of fabric to an overeager Kîli and nods his head in greeting at the others. “I wouldn’t have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.” 

“Mark?” Bilbo guffaws. He cranes his head to catch a glimpse of the damage, yet the door closes before he can. “There is no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!” 

Gandalf interjects with a guilty chuckle. “There is a mark—I put it there myself.”

Valar above! He’s going to faint—

There’s no time for that, unfortunately. Gandalf places his hands over Bilbo’s shoulders and steers him in the direction of the newcomer. “Bilbo Baggins—allow me to introduce the leader of our company—Thorin Oakenshield.” 

Thorin turns slowly, looking upon Bilbo with little care. “So…this is the Hobbit.”

His manner takes Bilbo aback. Just in the brief span of seconds and the limited words exchanged—Bilbo is made well aware that he is being belittled. He scrunches his nose and adjusts his suspenders. Bilbo can’t say that he’s met any sort of royalty or nobility in his simple life, but if he were to guess, this dwarf is cut from the same cloth.  

“Tell me Master Baggins,” Thorin continues, looking down his sharp nose at Bilbo. “Have you done much fighting?” 

“Pardon?” Bilbo sputters. 

Thorin crosses his arms over his broad chest. “Axe or sword? What’s your weapon of choice?”

“Well,” Bilbo musters, “I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know—but I fail to see why that’s relevant…” 

“Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.”

Snickers follow Thorin’s insult. Bilbo bites his tongue, cutting off the sharp retort that even Cricket would find acidic. Uncontested, the dwarf lord’s attention shifts to Bilbo’s cousin.      

“And what of you?” He sighs as his eyes lazily skim over Cricket. “The grocer’s daughter?” 

“No,” Cricket huffs. The girl straightens her spine and brushes her hands down the sides of her pinafore. A crooked smile spreads over her lips. “That would be Marigold Proudfoot—lives about four doors down. Though, I can’t say she or her husband are very fond of dwarves. Not at this hour at least.”

Thorin lifts a dark brow at her cheek. 

“Ah,” Gandalf interjects with a fond smile. He lays a withered hand over Cricket’s shoulder and gives the girl a friendly pat. “Thorin—this here is Cricket. Our other dear host for the evening.” 

Bilbo is not fond of the way Thorin’s scrutinizing gaze studies her for a second time. 

“Strange lands make for stranger names, it would seem,” Thorin haughtily comments. Cricket’s face twists with unruly ire. 

Bilbo’s heart leaps between his teeth—now is not the time for a barbed insult catapulted back to someone of such noble stature. The same someone who has thirteen dwarves, all wielding some sort of weaponry, pledging fealty to him and who would not so much as blink before turning Cricket into a lovely, little meat skewer. Bilbo clutches at his suspenders and pulls them away from his chest as another spell of dizziness washes over him. He doesn’t fancy the imagery—not in the slightest. 

This wouldn’t be the first time Cricket’s whip tongue would land her into trouble—far from it in fact. Yet none of those instances placed her in actual danger—just threatened her reputation that Bilbo had tried so hard to carefully curate. Maybe a cuff around the ear at the very worst—not like either of those did any good. She cares more for the mud ingrained in her nail beds than the social intricacies of the Shire. A lost cause, as most would put it. 

But here, right in this moment, the both of them are offered a very real slice of what lies beyond the boarders of the Shire. A far more sinister country with little law and goodwill—a world that would not hesitate to tear through flesh and bone with the wicked teeth of harsh reality. Cricket seems to recognize this as well. The muscles in her jaw bunch from the force of keeping it shut, displaying a very rare case of mulling over her words before they spew forth in a jet of shrapnel and flame. Her eyes are ablaze, unflinching at the equally harrowing stare Thorin throws back at her. 

The tension in the room is palpable—thick enough to cut through with a knife. Bilbo and the company of dwarves shift with strained energy, unsure if the pair would crack and crumble away from the weight or dissolve into fisticuffs. Knowing his cousin, it’s likely the latter. 

A communal sigh of relief is shared as Thorin’s shoulders lift with an impartial huff. He turns away and follows his brethren to the promise of food. 

“What a pompous oaf,” Cricket mutters under her breath. 

Gandalf clicks his tongue in disapproval yet Bilbo can’t help but wholeheartedly agree. 

A pompous oaf indeed!

                                                    ^*^*^*^

It was funny at first—watching your cousin flounder and scrabble for the high standing foothold he always manages to keep. Knocked down a couple pegs from snobbish and the air of higher society Bilbo exudes. Yet when those same ridiculing attentions focused on yourself, your opinion quickly morphed. Handsome dwarf lord or no, it gives Thorin no excuse to be downright rude.   

Your irritation never quelled, only grew alongside curiosity when the company once again gathered in your dining room. Smoke from pipeweed hangs in the air, disturbed by the passionate squabbling and animated movements. They were going on a quest you and Bilbo learned—to take back the Lonely Mountain and slay a dragon. Seems a bit foolish, you think—how were they to kill it now if they weren’t able to accomplish the task back then? Hidden passages or no, simply getting to the mountain will prove difficult enough. 

Even so, excitement brews within your chest. You are a dreamer at heart, always yearning for something bigger than you. An adventure filled with danger, the wild, and everything wedged in between. The Shire is your home, always will be, but the deep thrum of your soul urges you to step beyond the boarders of the Shire and find your true place in the world. A well overdue holiday, free from the iron chains of an unforgiving community and gossiping mouths. 

“That’s why we need a burglar,” Ori states proudly. You snap to attention as Bilbo hums in agreement. 

“And a good one too. An expert, I’d imagine.”

The dwarves stare at your cousin with expecting eyes. “And are you?”

“Am I what?” Bilbo asks, sharing a look of confusion with you. You haven’t the foggiest. 

Oín slaps the table with glee. “He said he’s an expert!”

Bilbo stammers and rushes to smooth over the confusion. “No, no no. I’m not a burglar. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life!” 

It’s true. Bilbo would rather die than take on the title of something that would suggest his character to be less than unimpeachable. 

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Master Baggins. He’s hardly burglar material.” Balin sighs, tucking his bearded chin into his chest. The group descends into another fierce bout of arguing. Bilbo tries to quiet them, but your cousin’s attempts result in nothing.    

The small space suddenly darkens as Gandalf stands, slightly hunched from the low ceiling. It would look ridiculous if it were anyone else. “Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!” The wizard bellows. 

The outburst stuns the dwarves into complacency. Warmth and the low glow of the candles return to the room once Gandalf settles back into his seat. He spares a kind glance to yourself and Bilbo and then addresses the room. “Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most, if they choose. And, while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf... ...the scent of a Hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage.” 

“You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company and I have done so. There's a lot more to Hobbits than appearances suggest. And he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know. You must trust me on this.”         

Silence blankets the room and a sudden, ringing thought clouds your mind. It’s a fat chance that Bilbo would agree to galavanting around the world with a bunch of dwarves. You one the other hand…

“I’ll do it. I can be your burglar.”

Well—at least no one burst out laughing. Though now that you think about it—laughing is far better than the silence you’ve curated. Yikes… 

“I’m good with maps,” you state, squaring your shoulders in hopes it would dispel some of your nerves, “and I know how to handle a bow—I’m no good with a sword but—but I’m a quick study, I swear it.” 

There’s a sea of varying opinions and hushed mutterings expressed on the faces of the dwarves as you attempt to carve out a feasible argument for yourself. You desperately look to Bilbo and then to Gandalf, but neither are of any help. The wizard quirks a bushy gray brow, puffs on his pipe and expels a tendril of wispy smoke in the shape of a ring. Your cousin on the other hand, looks about ready to keel over and faint. Typical.   

You plant your hands over your hips and huff. “You need a burglar, don’t you?”

“Well, yes—“ The white haired dwarf, Balin, begins. “But—“

“But what?” You challenge with a harsh stare. “If my cousin declines your contract, you’re left with nothing.” 

Another bout of muttering ensues. 

“The wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight or fend for themselves,” The one called Dwalin rumbles, “Especially no’ for wee hobbit lassies. S’no place at all.”   

“I believe I can manage just fine, Master Dwarf,” you snip. “Unless you have some privy knowledge to my personal upbringing that would suggest otherwise, I would recommend shutting your mouth before you find it stuffed with your own boot.”    

Bilbo sharply states your name in reprimand but the damage is already done. 

A fierce blush floods Dwalin’s cheeks and spreads all the way up to his ears—harsh snorts and jeering snickers follow, rapidly morphing into roaring laughter. The stocky warrior is left scrambling for words to retaliate, defend his pride, but finds none. Instead he mutters under his breath and folds his arms over his chest, sinking into the furs of his cloak in an attempt to disappear.      

“Oh, aye!” Bofur hoots, merriment sparkling in his eyes. “Let’s sick ‘er on the dragon! One word from that whip tongue o’ hers and old Smaug will go runnin’ with his tail between his legs.”

You bite your lip to stop a goofy grin from spreading across your face. Bofur returns the stem of his pipe to his mouth, inhales, and sends you a knowing wink. Before any of the other dwarves could cast their two cents in upon the matter, Thorin raises his hand from the table. The room quiets. 

The king’s head languidly tilts up to meet your eye. Whether he found your jab at Dwalin amusing or no—you haven’t a clue. His somber facade is difficult to read and while you aren’t frightened of him, the way he carries himself is unnerving at best. Thorin is the sort best admired from a distance and not right here, seated at your dining room table. 

“The road is long and the journey hard,” Thorin sighs. “I do not wish to burden this quest with death or injury that could be preventable—especially to those who have known no battle or hardship.”

He pauses. 

Hope flickers within your chest.

“The wizard speaks highly of your kind—“ Thorin’s eyes briefly flicker to Gandalf. “And an extra set of hands—warrior or no—could prove to be useful.” 

The group whispers amongst themselves. 

“Give her a contract.”              

#weLL #here ya go binches #the hobbit #lord of the rings #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield x you #thorin oakenshield #fili x reader #kili x reader #bofur x reader #bilbo baggins #thorins company #the company x reader #the company of thorin oakenshield #the company #jrr tolkien #fanfiction #fanfic #the hobbit reader insert #reader insert

[quindolyn]

hi can i request the maurauders going to see the reader do a musical like heathers or mean girls and they are just confused and turned on bc they didn't expect it to be this dirty (can lead to smut or not). luv you and hope you are taking care of yourself, if not go get something to eat, drink some water, take a nap, or do somthing you enjoy. or dont not trying to be pushy :)

Creature of the Night || Poly!Marauders

Word Count: 3029 (excluding song lyrics)

A/N: I think I liked how this turned out? I didn’t make it smut but it’s certainly suggestive, I went with Rocky Horror, I know that the musicals mentioned in the request are more modern but I fucking love Rocky Horror and I think it works with the request. When I first read this request I smiled so much because I love live theater, I don’t perform as much as I used to because as I progress with my education I’m focusing more on the stuff I can use to pad my resumes for college and stuff but I still love going to see productions. One of the worst parts of the pandemic for me has been not being able to go see shows, I miss it so much.

Warnings: theatre enthusiast reader, erections, suggestive material, song lyrics, slight teasing, wearing very little clothing in front of an audience, I believe that that is it

Masterlist

500 follower celebration

antici-

The magic of the stage was second to none. Sure, Hogwarts may have had witches and wizards, subjects like Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and ghosts that spent their time meandering about the halls but there was always a part of you that looked forward to the summer between your years at Hogwarts. Because no matter how magical Hogwarts was, the theater always made you feel completely and utterly alive. 

Every summer since the one after your first year at what all of your muggle friends thought to be a very prestigious boarding school up in Scotland, you’d taken part in your local youth theater’s productions. Your parents both being muggles thought that it would be a great way for you to be able to stay in touch with your muggle origins. 

The first year you’d been far too nervous to actually audition for a role, the very thought causing bile to churn in your stomach and threaten to make you sick all over your kitchen floor when your father first pitched the idea. So instead you’d done costumes and it was the most wonderful experience of your life. 

Who needed drugs when you had live theater? The hustle and bustle behind the scenes was electrifying but after two summers of costuming, of quick changes in the wings, learning how to use the ancient sewing machines they stored in the depths of the storage rooms, and pulling pieces for the actors to try on you decided that you wanted to try something more.

The moment you had stepped onto the stage it was like you’d come to life and you cursed yourself for not taking the risk earlier. You belonged on the stage, with the harsh stage lights on you and pounds of makeup plastered onto your face you could feel the magic thrumming through your veins and it was addicting.

If it was possible, you were even more excited to perform this summer, the previous school year you’d finally gotten together with your long time best friends the Marauders, turning them from friends to your boyfriends.

When your mother had sent word of the production being put on this summer you’d squealed while seated next to James and across from Remus, who had Sirius hanging off of his side. After explaining to them, mostly Sirius and James really, just what live theater was their first reaction was to ask if they could come see you perform.

“I don’t even know if I’m going to be cast,” You had explained gently, not wanting to get their hopes up in case you weren’t cast this year.

“Bull shit of course you’re going to be the cast,” Sirius had contested through a mouthful of jam and toast, waving his hand theatrically through the air, watching him that day was not the first time you’d considered how the way he acted often reminded you of an over enthusiastic theatre major.

Remus, the only one with any knowledge on muggle theatre had snorted, wrapping an arm around Sirius’ waist to pull him closer to his body, “She’s not going to be the cast Pads, she’s going to be casted,” He’d corrected gently, pressing a kiss into his long, dark tresses.

“Whatever,” The smaller boy had grumbled, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

Which brought you to where you were right now, five minutes to curtain touching up your make up in the mirror of the shared make-up room.

“Hey (L/N),” One of your cast mates called settling into the makeup chair next to you as she plucked a tube of dark red lipstick from the small canary colored makeup bag she had previously abandoned on the counter, “Your boyfriends coming tonight?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Yeah, they are,” You responded, applying mascara to your lashes.

“Excited to meet them, that photo you showed us,” She smiled, fanning her face with her hand, “Smoking,” She smiled, making eye contact with you in the mirror.

Rolling your eyes you ignored her comment, “It’s five minutes to curtain, you’re just now doing your make-up?” You chuckled, noticing her black face.

“Oh, shove it,” She laughed as you pushed yourself from your chair, traipsing out of the room, giving her the middle finger on your way out.

“Break a leg!” She called after you as the door latched shut.

You weren’t usually this nervous before a performance but knowing that your three boyfriends were sitting out there somewhere in the audience had you pacing back and forth backstage wondering what they were going to think of the whole production.

“Rocky Horror?” Sirius’ confusion evident in his voice as he plopped down in his seat next to Remus, throwing his arm around the werewolf’s shoulders, drumming his fingers on his clothed shoulder hidden behind his knitted cardigan.

“Yeah,” James collapsed into his chair on the other side of Remus, tucking one leg under his body, “No clue what it’s about but I’m sure our angel will be wonderful. Can you guys see her?” He straightened himself up in his seat, craning his neck in attempts to catch a glimpse of you.

Remus being the only one with any ties to the muggle world knew a bit about the show and had to do his very best to suppress a smirk from overtaking his face as he knew exactly what he and your other two boyfriends were getting themselves into. 

“Just hush up you two, the show’s gonna start any moment,” He scolded, patting his large, scarred hand on James’ thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Rem,” Sirius whined, puckering his lips and closing his eyes, signaling to his boyfriend that he wanted a kiss.

“My needy baby,” He crooned, leaning in to connect his lips with Sirius’ in a quick liplock before pulling back, allowing Sirius to drop his forehead to smear against his shoulder.

“That’s mean,” Sirius murmured discontentedly.

“Poor baby Pads,” James cooed mockingly.

“Both of you,” Remus hissed as the lights in the theatre dimmed, “The show’s about to start, be good for me and be quiet yeah?”

Their response came in their silence as the crowd started settling down and the music from the orchestra pit began a voice coming from somewhere out of sight as it was played through the speakers,

“Michael Rennie was ill

The day the earth stood still

But he told us where we stand”

Not 20 minutes into the show all three of them were as hard as rocks, James had already made Remus check the playbill for the name of the character you were playing, not being able to remember what you’d told them as all of his concentration was focused on a certain place.

Janet Weiss.

Remus couldn’t remember either, but he was almost certain that’s the name he could make out in the dark theatre, printed next to a picture of your smiling face.

When you’d stripped down to your underwear the boys could barely focus on the plot line of the show, only being able to watch the way your bare skin shone under the harsh light of the spotlights. Watching as sweat glistened on your skin, making you shine as you moved about the stage. 

Enchanted by the melodic cadence of your voice they all felt a certain jealousy burning deep in the pits on their stomachs at the thought that there were dozens of other people packed into that theater, all observing you in your vulnerable state of under dress. Only they got to see you like that.

Sirius missed much of the first act glaring at members of the audience who he deemed as looking at you for too long for his liking, but if you were being honest a 4th year smiling at you in the hallway was sometimes too long for his liking.

It wasn’t like any of them had never seen you naked before, in fact they’d all seen you naked more than their fair share of times but something about you on that stage in a white bra with a matching slip was driving them all crazy.

Especially Remus, whose ultimate weakness was seeing you in anything white which was one of the reasons you’d been so excited to invite them in the first place, knowing that they would be horny messes the entire time.

On stage you did your very best not to look out into the audience looking for them, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to stop a ginormous grin from forming on your face and you couldn’t afford to break character. Not if you wanted the night to go your way.

As the opening notes to “Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me”, rose from the orchestra pit you had trouble stopping a small smirk from pulling at your lips as you opened them, inhaling deeply before singing the first words of the song,

“I was feeling done in, couldn't win

I'd only ever kissed before”

Despite yourself you caught a glimpse of long dark hair in the audience, quickly taking a glance at Sirius’ face, eyes glazed over in lust, legs shifting uncomfortably with his mouth hanging wide open. 

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed another raven-haired boy’s mouth dropping as you shrugged off of your robe

“I thought there’s no use getting, into heavy petting

It only leads to trouble and, seat wetting

Now all I want to know, is how to go

I've tasted blood and I want more”

It was impossible to miss the way Remus’ jaw clenched as you laid your palm against Rocky’s chest, he was being played by your good friends who’d been working with the same theatre company as you since forever, he was like a brother to you. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t lay it on extra thick tonight with your boyfriends in the audience.

Tracing a dainty finger down Rocky’s chest you pushed your body against his singing out the next lyrics of the song,

“I've got an itch to scratch, I need assistance”

You turned you and your cast mate so that looking over his shoulder you were able to meet Remus’ eye, sending him a quick wink before focusing back in on Rocky.

“Toucha, toucha, toucha, touch me

I wanna be dirty

Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me

Creature of the night”

Pressing your back up against Rocky’s chest you guided his hands with yours to your breasts, squeezing them as you followed the choreography you knew by heart.

You ripped your slip from your body with the help of Rocky leaving you in only your white bra, matching panties and a pair of small heels as you paraded around stage, belting the suggestive lyrics into the theater.

“Then if anything grows, while you pose

I'll oil you up and rub you down (down, down, down)

And that’s just one small fraction, of the main attraction

You need a friendly hand, oh i need action”

You smirked, thinking about all of the action you’d be on the receiving end of later that night as you sunk to your knees in front of Rocky, your hands grasping his thighs. Deciding to tease them perhaps a little more than necessary as you went through the number, curling your leg around his and pressing your bodies together so that there was no space between your two questionably clothed bodies.

As the number was brought to a close it was impossible for you to ignore the excitement bubbling up inside of you as you continued your way through the show you kept throwing glances at your boyfriends, always finding their eyes already trained on you. More often than not, on some body part other than your face.

If your boyfriends thought that they had a bit of a problem before that song they were in a terrible predicament now.

Remus caught Sirius on multiple occasions trying to move the hand that he was holding to grope at his crotch as he tried to buck up into his boyfriend’s hand. And much to his own dismay, Remus would pull his hand away, thinking it probably wasn’t the best idea to give his boyfriend a hand job in a crowded theater. Knowing that he wouldn’t have to worry about James touching himself because he would never dream of disobeying him, Remus divided his attention between you on the stage and keeping Sirius in check.

Each of the boys were counting down the seconds until the show came to an end and they could get out of there and relieve some of their tension.  As the curtains were pulled closed they all breathed a sigh of relief before they reopened, leaving all three of them bewildered and slightly annoyed, even more so when they noticed everyone around them standing as they applauded the actors.

Remus forced both of them up when you rushed to the front of the stage, curtsying as the crowd went wild, your boyfriends most notably. As you took your bow you blew a kiss to your boyfriends taking note of the uncomfortable way they all stood, trying to adjust their erections to make them less noticeable while simultaneously applauding you.

As you cleared the stage after curtain call you took your time, doddling towards the dressing rooms where you had left the clothes you’d arrived at the theater in along with a special outfit you’d brought for after the show. Usually you were one of the first actors to clear the theater after a show but tonight you took your time. Hanging up your costume with more care than anyone really should treat any garment with and certainly more than what it needed. 

You smirked mischievously as you pulled the you’d brought outfit from your bag and shimmied it up your legs before slipping the delicate straps up your shoulders. You glimpsed yourself in the mirror, the red satin of the dress clinging to your curves in an attractive manner, short enough to display miles of legs and low cut enough to show off a decent amount of cleavage and perhaps a sighting of the matching red bra you were wearing beneath it.

Slinging the back of your black heels over the heel of your feet you snatched your purse from the armchair in your dressing room before striding out to go meet your boyfriends in the lobby, where you’d told them to wait for you.

Their heads all turned as they heard the clacking of your heels against the tile of the floor, “Boys,” You greeted as they unabashedly took in your new appearance.

As he most often was, Remus was the first one to collect himself, “Puppy, you were wonderful,” He praised, walking to meet you as you approached him, leaning down to smear a kiss against your cheek, “You did amazing up there, so proud of you,” He threw his arm around your waist as you walked towards Sirius and James.

“We got something for you,” He explained, his grip on your waist tightening, “Jamie give it to her, yeah?” 

“Oh yeah,” The smaller boy grinned, remembering the bouquet he held cradled in his arms as he handed it over to you, “Here you go angel.”

“Thank you Jamie,” You said as you took it from him, closing your eyes as you buried your nose in the sweet smelling flora. As you opened your eyes you made eye contact with Sirius, who stood across from you, practically drooling as he took in your appearance without any shame, “They smell wonderful.”

“You okay Si?” You asked, looking up through your eyelashes, batting them innocently.

“Like you don’t know exactly what you did up there to us (Y/N/N),” Remus whispered in your ear, pressing his nose into your temple.

“You guys are the ones who wanted to come,” You lilted, rubbing one of the velvety petals between the pads of your thumb and forefinger.

“Could’ve warned us,” James mumbled, his eyes not leaving your thighs as he licked his lips, if it were anyone else you would’ve been uncomfortable but you couldn’t help but feel flattered whenever any of them ogled you. 

“And what’s with the dress Pup?” Sirius nodded his head appreciatively towards your dress, obviously admiring the way it hung on your body.

“What, you don’t like it?” You asked with fake hurt in your voice, knowing that he more than liked it, he fucking loved it. 

“S’not that,” Remus mumbled, nosing at your jugular, “Just that whole show, got us a little bit worked up. We didn’t expect it to be so sexual Puppy,” He nodded towards James and that’s when you noticed the erection he was still sporting. 

“Got us really worked up, can we go home now?” James asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, trying to distract himself from his little problem.

“Jamie,” You whined, smiling wickedly, “I wanted to celebrate, I was thinking we could go eat somewhere, I was thinking maybe Thai food?”

You watched as Sirius ground his teeth, conflicted between needing to get home and not wanting to deny you from what you wanted. 

“Having fun teasing us Bunny?” Remus asked you with a sly smirk, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“M’not teasing,” You insisted, turning indignantly to your other boyfriend.

“Sure you aren’t,” He chuckled, “Thai sounds great (Y/N), wanna talk with you about the show,” The idea of teasing Sirius and James even longer was very appealing to Remus and he was ready to make the sacrifice of being teased himself, knowing that he’d be able to get back at you later that night.

“But-” James began.

“You wanna argue with me Jamie?” Remus challenged, raising a singular eyebrow.

“No,” He moped, “Of course not.”

“Good,” Remus said, nodding his head approvingly, “We wouldn’t wanna deny our Princess would we?”

James shook his head, eyes pleading, desperately seeking Remus’ approval.

“Pads?” Remus challenged, turning his attention to the other raven haired man.

“What? Oh um, of course not,” He agreed distractedly, dragging his eyes from your form to meet Remus’, his reluctance evident in his voice.

“Good,” Remus said pointedly, his eyes cold, daring Sirius to question him. When he didn’t the werewolf continued, “Let’s get going then, there’s a nice little restaurant a couple blocks away yeah?”

As you all hummed your consent you made your way to the exit, “Ten galleons if you can make James cum in his pants at dinner,” Remus whispered in your ear quietly enough so that  James and Sirius trailing behind you wouldn’t be able to hear you, you could hear the smirk in his voice as you exited the theatre.

“Deal.” This was going to be fun, you considered that you might have to invite them to come see the show again.

-pation

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @kittykylax @amourtentiaa @superbturtlemakerathlete

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[turtle-steverogers]

i was thinking but do you know the unsent project? it is this website where you can write a message to your first love that you never sent to them. now imagine steve writing one (or multiple) to bucky after he came out of the ice after nat told him about it... yeah

hello hi anon this broke me and it was too perfect not to turn into a ficlet klafjldskjfalskf thank you

-

Unsent Letters

To:

Steve’s fingers freeze over the keyboard, the cursor blinking at him. It feels like it’s taunting him-- teasing him with the burden of choking out a name. What should he even say? The sender is anonymous, but how many people are named Bucky out there? Would anyone even care?

To: Bu

Steve huffs and backspaces, his hands trembling as he curls them into fists. He isn’t sure what provoked Natasha to tell him about this website. It’s a cruel tease to everything he wishes he could say-- wished he could say before Bucky slipped through his fingers. And now his only option is yelling into an abyss. The text box is black and daunting. He turns it yellow. No, too happy. Green. Yes, that’s fine. Bucky’s favorite color was always green.

His gaze wanders away from the screen of his hefty Dell laptop and out the window of his apartment. DC’s low rising buildings span out in front of him. His gut aches; he misses New York already. But he knows being there would only mangle his soul further, seeing his already alien home torn to shreds by literal space whales. He huffs, thinking of Bucky’s comics. His stories came to life after all. Bucky would have probably vibrated out of his skin if he knew there was other life out there.

To: My astronaut

How’s space treating you? It’s treating me pretty badly, if I’m being honest. If only you could see what it’s done to Brooklyn. I think you’d be pretty mad at it if you knew…

Steve hesitates, reading back over what he’s typed. It’s stupid as hell, and he cringes, but he doesn’t backspace. His fingers find the keys again.

I miss you something awful. I don’t think that even encompasses how much I’m hurting without you. I feel so lost right now-- space is much bigger and scarier than you’d think. I know you’d love it. I wish you could see bits of it, but god, I just want to go home. I want you to come home.

Steve freezes again and finds the screen blurry where tears have welled in his eyes. His jaw clenches as he pictures the way Bucky would laugh at him-- teasing him for his dramatics and ruffling his hair. He wishes he could be there now, rolling his eyes and nudging Steve’s shoulder.

“What’re you upsetting yourself for?” He’d say, gently closing the laptop and coaxing Steve into his arms. “I’m right here, pal.”

And if Steve closes his eyes, he can almost feel Bucky’s warmth enveloping him. But he’s not there. He’s dead, and Steve’s a goddamn ghost, drifting through a future that doesn’t know him.

He opens his eyes and stares at the text box, then clicks submit.

The screen loads, and his message is gone, his pain forever documented in the abyss.

-

For someone who fought aliens two weeks after waking up from his impromptu seventy year sleep, Steve’s life is pretty monotonous. He contemplates this unfortunate fact as he stands in front of his toaster, hair sticking up on the back of his head as he nurses a mug of coffee and waits for his toast to pop.

It’s 5:45 in the morning and he tries to remember a time when he didn’t rise this early. Before the war, perhaps. Though, he’s always been a bit of an early bird. His home life was sporadic to put it lightly and he’d learned from an early age that the sooner he was awake, the better it was for everyone. Vigilance is not a new concept for Steve.

He hasn’t always stayed up late, though. That’s certainly new, and he feels this fact viscerally as he catches sight of his reflection in the microwave. There are bags under his eyes that will be gone by mid-morning thanks to the serum. Dermatologists hate him, Natasha says. Steve thinks he’s pretty lucky that the serum more or less equipped him with a built-in anti-aging agent. His father had started balding by thirty.

His toast pops and he starts a little, blinking blearily at the slightly burnt bread as he pulls it out of the toaster with his thumb and forefinger. He spreads on the same raspberry jam and butter that he uses every morning and tries not to think of how bland it tastes in his mouth as he eats it standing at the counter. Another routine.

He tries not to look at last night’s dishes in the sink as he stacks his plate and silverware on top and doesn’t bother sorting out his hair before pulling on his sneakers and slipping out of his apartment. The sun hasn’t quite risen yet, only the beginning tendrils of light sneaking over the low tops of the DC buildings, and Steve vaguely regrets not grabbing a sweatshirt before he left. It’s not quite Summer yet and the mornings could still get pretty cool.

He’s about to take off down the street when he freezes. Natasha is sitting on the steps of his complex, wearing a pair of pink tinted sunglasses and tossing up and down the keys to her car. Steve blinks, rubs his eyes, then blinks again. Nope. She’s still there.

“Nat?”

Natasha looks up at him and smiles. “Hello.”

Steve shifts, uncomfortable. “Hi. You need something? Is there a mission?”

“No,” Natasha says lightly, standing. “You’re not running this morning, though. Come on, I’m taking you to Starbucks.”

“What?”

“Starbucks. You’re going to try it.”

“I don’t want--”

“Steve, you do the same thing every day. Step out of your comfort zone a little.”

Steve frowns, but Natasha’s right-- he really doesn’t ever stray from his routine.

“Fine,” he says, and twenty minutes later, they’re strolling into the nearest Starbucks.

He’s only been in one before, and that was to use the restroom while on a run. He’d bought a water bottle in an attempt to not be rude and use their facilities without giving them any business, but he hadn’t even considered the expansive menu. All the fancy names were too daunting.

They’re just as daunting now as he stares up at the board, heart hammering out of his chest as he’s faced with indecision. Natasha takes one look at his face, and reaches out to squeeze his arm.

“I’ll order something for you,” she says. “What kind of coffee do you like?”

Steve gives her a pained look. “Um… just coffee?”

Natasha quirks a smile and orders him something called a caramel macchiato. He’ll take it, he guesses.

The drink is too damn sweet and sugary and he almost gags. Still, he was always told to finish what he was given, so he drinks the whole thing.

-

To: Mr. Sweet Tooth

You’d fucking love it here. Everything is packed with sugar and sweetness-- enough to make even my teeth rot. I had something called a caramel macchiato today and it tasted like someone took your ma’s caramels and condensed them into a cup. I couldn’t stand it, but I know if you were here, you’d want at least twelve. I hope you’re enjoying all the sweets you can up in space.

Love, Mr. Boring

-

Steve’s fingers are stiff and frozen as he works at the straps of his stealth suit. The tangy taste of saltwater still sits heavy on his tongue, and he clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering too harshly as he finally peels off his suit. It’s not much better, being naked, but at least the wet fabric isn’t clinging to him anymore.

The mission had been pretty straightforward until some alien tech managed to blast the quinjet to kingdom come, and they all free-fell straight into the freezing Atlantic.

Steve had managed to keep it together as they took down the goddamn mad scientist that fucked them over, but now that he’s home and alone, he can feel the adrenaline crashing.

He’s shaking from more than just the cold as he draws himself a warm bath, and he pulls his knees up to his chest, trying to breathe through the panic that wants to engulf his entire being.

He loses time for a bit, and comes back to himself lying in his bed, burrowed under several thick layers. He feels so cold, down to his very soul-- a chill that he can never seem to truly shake, even when he’s warm.

Not for the first time, he wishes Bucky were there to hold him. He slips off to sleep thinking old, comforting thoughts of Bucky rubbing his hands between his own, coaxing his head under his chin to engulf him in that natural warmth of his. He always was a fucking furnace.

But when Steve wakes an hour later, shaking hard enough to move the bed with the force of the nightmare he’d dropped into, Bucky is not there to soothe away the ice.

-

To: JB

im so cold and i cant breathe ever and nothing feels right. I dont know what to do, u were always the problem solver between us and i cant think straight right now and i just want you here please. I cant do this anymore, im so tired please come back. I need you please

-

The Winter Soldier file sits in front of Steve-- a horrifying nightmare wrapped up in a neat brown folder. Residual nausea swirls around in his gut as he comes down from the horrible high of reading through the contents. His hands shake where they grasp the thick paper. His heart clenches hard in his chest.

Bucky is alive. Bucky is alive, and he’s been unmade.

Steve doesn’t know where he is-- if he’s escaped, or if Hydra found him again. It’s been three weeks now since the helicarriers, and he’s only just gotten the courage to sit down and wade through the shit that is Bucky’s reality.

He just hopes he’s safe. God, he hopes.

Sam says he’ll help him look, and Steve needs to know he’s at least out of danger, but he barely knows where to start.

And he’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry.

Blinking out of his reverie, Steve looks at his laptop. He feels strange and detached as he reaches for it and logs in.

To: Bucky

And yes, that feels right. He should use his name, since he suspects no one has for a long, long time.

I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry that you’ve been hurting so quietly for so long. I understand if you’re not ready to come home-- I understand if you never are. I just hope that you know that there will always be a place with me that is safe. I love you so much and I’m here, forever and always.

Love, Steve.

He’s not naive. He knows it would be dangerous to submit that particular message, so he doesn’t. But that’s okay. That one’s just for him-- for them.

-

“Steve? What is the… Unsent Project?”

Steve frowns and pokes his head out of the kitchen. Bucky is sitting on the couch in the living room, using his laptop, because his own is having storage issues.

Bucky looks at him. “It’s one of your saved tabs. What is it?”

And oh, fuck. Steve had forgotten to remove that from his homepage-- it really wasn’t needed anymore. He blushes all the way to his ears.

“Oh, it’s-- nothing. Not anything important--”

But Bucky has already clicked on the tab.

“The Unsent Project,” he reads aloud. “A collection of unsent text messages to… first… loves…”

He trails off as he processes what he’s looking at, and Steve can’t quite read his expression when he looks at him again. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s looking at Steve like he’s some sort of kicked puppy. Steve shifts, uncomfortable.

“Were you sending me… messages? While I was dead?”

Steve swallows. “Um…” and now that Bucky says it out loud, it really does sound quite sad. He shrugs. “It’s Natasha’s fault?”

Bucky shakes his head, clicking on the search bar. He starts to type his name, but Steve shakes his head.

“I didn’t use your name.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, then frowns at him again. “What did you use?”

Steve blushes harder, sitting next to Bucky and taking the laptop from him.

“Um…” he hesitates, then types what he was sure he used as his first alias.

My astronaut

The screen buffers and loads, then fifty or so messages pop up. Steve scrolls down-- it doesn’t take long to find his.

They’re both quiet as they read, and Steve cringes. Jeez, he really had been pretty dramatic. Next to him, Bucky makes a hurt noise.

“Oh, honey,” he murmurs, taking the laptop back from Steve. He reads the message again, then once more, and reaches out for Steve. “Aw, I’m here now.”

Steve huffs, embarrassed. “I know,” he says. “That was way back, like, three weeks after I woke up.”

Bucky stills. “You fought aliens three weeks after you woke up?”

“... More like two.”

Bucky hums. “Are there others?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, reaching out to type on Bucky’s lap, because Bucky is holding him now and he’s quite reluctant to move. He thinks for a moment, then types in the next one he remembers.

Mr. Sweet Tooth

Bucky laughs, and Steve finds himself smiling.

“I find this funny,” Bucky says. “Because caramel macchiatos are definitely one of my favorites now.”

Steve laughs, too, and butts his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“If only I could tell that to myself back then-- he’d be thrilled.”

“I’m sure,” Bucky says. “Any more?”

Steve hesitates, thinking of the one he’d sent after that nightmare-- when he was low and hurting. Incoherent. He isn’t sure he wants Bucky to see that particular side of his soul, but Bucky has been more than generous in letting him in on his pains nowaday, and it’s not like Bucky hasn’t witnessed Steve’s own current nightmares.

He bites his lip and types in JB. That seems to yield a lot more results, and it takes a while for Steve to find the message.

He hides his face in Bucky’s neck as he reads. Bucky’s arms gradually tighten around him, and a moment later, he feels him kiss the top of his head.

“Honey, I hate that you were hurting so bad,” Bucky mutters against his hair.

Steve shrugs. “We both were,” he says, and it’s true. There’s something to be said about the guilt they both feel for not being able to save the other person at their lowest, but life hasn’t been kind to them. The vitriol, Steve thinks, should be directed at the goddamn universe for keeping them apart, not themselves for fucking dying. They’re working on it.

Bucky’s quiet for a long time. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says. “Is that it?”

Steve shakes his head. “But I never sent the last one.”

“Why not?”

“I wrote it after DC.”

He feels Bucky squeeze him again, and he squeezes back.

“Oh.”

“I just-- I wanted you to know that you didn’t have to come home. That I just wanted you to be safe; needed to know you were safe, but it was up to you. I just needed you to know I was here, if you needed me.”

Bucky pulls back then and cups his face, kissing him soundly. Steve’s surprised for only a moment before he’s kissing back.

“I did know that,” Bucky says against his lips. “I needed time-- I was lost-- but the first thing I knew when I remembered who you were was that you were a safe person, because you’d never force me anywhere.”

Steve kisses him again, then pulls him into a hug. “I’m glad you knew that.” It’s warm, where their chests meet, and Bucky is solid beneath him. Real. He isn’t speaking into an abyss anymore.

-

There’s a sticky note on Bucky’s pillow next to his head when he wakes up the next morning. Steve’s side of the bed is already vacant, and he can’t hear him downstairs. He must have already left for a run.

Propping himself on an elbow, Bucky plucks up the sticky note.

To: My Bucky

Thank you for choosing me to be your home, and thank you forever, for being mine.

I love you with everything I have.

Love, your Steve

Bucky smiles, heart light as he folds the notes. He’ll keep that one with him, he thinks. A little bit of home to bring wherever he goes.

-

anyway yeah fslkjflaskjfls i-- ouch. anything to do with letters w these two hurts me immensely

#i did not proofread this at all so i just kNOW im going to read this back later and find a whole bunch of typos oops #stucky #stucky fic #steve rogers #bucky barnes #idiots in love #sad stevie aw

[sickiebabytae]

hi!! if ur still talking drabbles and things could u so something with jimin and migraines 🥺🥺 maybe from overworking himself, and tae helps :(( or jungkook (or both hehe)

thank you sm for the request, anon! here you go :) enjoy it!

-------------------------------------------------------

jimin isn't unused to pain. he's experienced it many times, in many ways. though it doesn't make it any easier when said pain catches up to him.

the members had warned him to take it easy, his muscles already having been crying out for a break since a few days ago. jimin had done his best to abide by their requests, but it hadn't been easy. he's never been one to sit back a lot. he always wants to push himself further and harder and improve to the best of his abilities like he knows he can do. it's a much more positive mindset than the one before, though the general premise still stands: keep going. it frustrates jimin to no end having to take breaks when all the others are working hard, so he rarely does. it always bites him in the back.

like how its biting him in the back now. he wakes up to his head stabbing with a sharp pain in the side of his head as he sits up. it ebbs away before he can fully register it, though it still makes the dancer groan and put his face in his hands, exhaustion clinging to his limbs as he moves. he really hopes he can make it through the day. it's a busy one, and he'd just promised Namjoon the night before he'd be able to handle it.

he trudges out of bed, face pinched and arms loosely around himself. he isn't paying attention, so its inevitable when he bumps into one of the others as he makes his way to the living room. he grunts, "sorry."

"jiminie-hyung?" jungkook's quiet voice still feels like pin pricks in his brain. "woah- you look pale, what's wrong?" 

jimin suppresses a sigh. "nothing, jungkook-ah, I'm okay. hyung woke up with a headache, is all."

jungkook doesn't look convinced, though he knows better than to press. "okay… well, go get a drink of water." 

jimin smiles and nods. "I will, thank you koo." the maknae gives him a smile in return before heading off to the bathroom.

jimin continues to the kitchen to follow jungkook's advice and sees taehyung sat at the kitchen island with his tablet open in front of him and scrolling through a webtoon as he holds a toast spread with jam. the younger looks up and nods at jimin in greeting, though does a double take upon noticing jimin's unhealthy complexion and instantly registers that something is wrong. "what hurts?"

jimin startles. "what?"

"what hurts," taehyung asked again. "you're doing that brow-crease thing whenever you're in pain."

jimin smiles, unable to help the amusement that lightens his chest. "aish, taehyungie, it's just a headache. you can calm down."

"it's never 'just anything' with you, jimin, come on." taehyung stands, making his way around the kitchen island to feel jimin's forehead. the action elicits a laugh from the dancer as he swats taehyung's hand away. "I know you're worried, tete, but I'm fine. we've got a long day today anyways and then our schedule clears up a bit. I'll rest when we get home." he promises.

taehyung doesn't hide how unsatisfied he is. he even scoffs. "if you're lying to me…"

"I'm not." jimin pats taehyung's chest. "now come on, finish your breakfast so we can leave."

-------------------------------------------------------

jimin does end up lying. though, in his defense, it's not because he wanted to. he really had thought his headache would stay that way - just a headache. but as the hours of the day trickle by at a snail's pace, jimin wishes he had stayed home and saved himself the misery of the blinding migraine he has now. 

they're still in the throws of a grueling dance practice, but the motions dont come as easily for jimin as they normally do, the song blasting in his ears and making his vision dot with black and his stomach churn. the members usually tease him for always being a beat behind, though no one can find it in themselves today watching the dancer strain to get the moves right. he's panting and sweating the tremble that had started with just his hands has travelled all along his tense muscles. though they don't say anything, or pressure jimin into saying anything either, knowing how he can get. 

they regret their decision, though, when jimin stops in the middle of the song to cradle his head with a whimper. 

taehyung is the first to snap his head over, pausing as well. he makes a signal for one of the others to turn the music off. "jiminie..?"

jimin doesn't reply, just swaying and swaying until his knees buckle.

"shit-" jungkook hisses as he rushes forward and pulls jimin into his chest, picking him up in a bridal carry. "hyung??"

jimin says nothing, burying his face into jungkook's shoulder. the maknae looks up at the others in panic.

seokjin is the first to speak up and break the silence. "jungkook, tae, you two take jimin home. us four will deal with the rest here."

the two youngest don't need to be told twice. they rush jimin out to the front after calling for a van and drive him home.

-------------------------------------------------------

"that was hands down one of the stupidest things you've ever done." taehyung tells jimin, standing above the bed with his arms crossed and a worried pout on his face.

jungkook snorts from where he lays next to jimin, hand gently petting his hair back off his forehead where they've placed a cool compress. "I wouldn't say the stupidest." he glances at jimin. "it was pretty stupid though."

jimin sighs tiredly, eyes drooping shut. after getting a painkiller into him and forcing him to lay down, he does admittedly feel a little better. though the exhaustion from before has multiplied tenfold, and there's still a dull throbbing behind his eyes, ears ringing quietly. "I know, I'm sorry… I thought I could just push through it.."

"clearly not." taehyung grumbles bitterly, biting his lip.

jimin opens his eyes to smile at Taehyung softly. "tete, I'm fine-"

"you said that this morning!"

"I know, but I'm in bed now. and you and jungkookie are here, yeah?" jimin gently takes taehyung's hand into his own and tugs him to lay down in the empty space on his other side. "I'll be okay after some sleep."

"a lot of sleep." jungkook corrects with a pout. "you almost passed out on us."

"okay okay, a lot of sleep." jimin pokes jungkook's cheek. "but I will be okay."

taehyung gives such a long sigh, jimin worries he's going to run out of breath. but then he nods and smiles at his best friend. "okay. on one condition."

"yeah?"

"you don't let yourself out of our sight." taehyung points between him and jungkook, the maknae nodding instantly.

jimin laughs. "fine by me."

he falls asleep not long after, and even though jungkook and taehyung are sweaty and cling to him tightly, jimin wouldn't have it any other way.

-------------------------------------------------------

a/n: aaa I'm back- I know it's been a crazy long time but hiii

I decided the best way to return was just with a quick drabble just to get myself back in the swing of things, but hopefully I'll put out something longer that I'm working on soon :))

and again, thank u to the anon that requested this! I had a lot of fun writing this <3

#im back! #hi everyone :) #i dont think any tw's are needed but let me know if theres anything that makes u uncomfortable and ill add it <3

[getallemeralds]

doip.: session.. 3?? / 8.30.21

oh shit i cant hear the recap music bc of my fucking headset

I FORGOT WE STOLE(?) A BARREL CRAB

LAST TIME ON DRAGONS OF ICESPIRE PEAK: we killed the shapechanger and stole(?) a barrel crab!

michael: i feel like we have to use the barrel crab now, because the announcer guy included it in the recap jorb: the announcer guy. michael: i don't know his name!

notes may be sparse bc im doodling alidaar while listening to the others talk

we have given the funny little animal arson powers

time to go to the dwarven excavation! also i finished doodling so im listening now

"i'm going to roll perception to see if some shit is up-- ahaahaa. aaahahaeehahaahaa . aaa"

michael to the rescue! with a better explanation of what he's trying to look for (if anythings been raided or messed up) and also a better roll in general

are the wyatts still arguing about horses? (no! somehow.)

nyx: are you trying to perceive jorb: are you trying to use your eyes, sir?

dwarven excavation has a big ol temple! which has dwarven statues out front that have "evil grins" or smth. so, uh, this is fine

michael: i dont think i trust those stone piles, they look like theyre drawn on an animation frame.

it has been 4 sessions and nyx's character still doesnt have a name btw

nyx: i am the most stealthy binturong that has ever existed, i am squeaking out loud, i am throwing rocks everywhere nyx being a Funny Little Animal is so good bc even tho his stealth check sucked, the dwarves he's stalking just ignored him bc it's a lil binturong vibing on some rocks

every day im shufflin'

(jorb shuffling tokens around trying to remember which npc is which)

nyx: [coughing] leo: ..is nyx dying? jorb: no - wait no i thought that was part of the ambience but yeah that's nyx dying

dwarves :>

alidaar is fun. snarky bastard. pronouns aren't real

temple has an infestation of goops!

michael: hold on let me cast a spell on myself before i recall high school physics

alidaar: i'm gonna be real i'm just here for violence and p much nothin else, sooooo

alidaar: alriiiight! venture forth, fuckos!

oh hey ali has darkvision. apparently that's a house rule thing bc for some reason dragonborn?? don't have darkvision???? normally??????? ty based jorb

leo, as alidaar: i've just discovered i have darkvision! i've never been in a dark room in my entire life! michael: alidaar scratching the side of his head like "what does this little switch do?" click. "oh my god i have darkvision!"

jorb: you're checking out the ceiling, huh? leo: y.. ye a ...

uh oh, oozes!

leo: i'm.. going to back away. jorb: that's probably a good idea. leo: i'm going to knock on the wall [over by tobias] and go "hey uh, i found a problem. i found TWO problems."

having a group huddle!

WHOOPS I FORGOT TO EQUIP MY RUNES good thing i figured that out right before combat started lmao. alidaar's a rune knight now!

leo: [checking something] jorb: [@ nyx] ..you now have an initiative of 23. leo: w

PEPPER'S HERE

distracted from d&d by cat

LITTLE GUY HAS DEPLOYED AN ORBITAL LASER (moonbeam) lmao the jelly walked right into it bc. int of 2-- WHOA guiding bolt op

one jelly down! -AH BEANS im getting owned

whap

woo, combat done! i was the only one that got hit lmao

nawball is talking abt eating grass.

alidaar found a secret door! while both tobias and nameless failed lmao

man i keep not taking good notes bc its mainly us fighting stuff and then exploring around. which is fun! but not interesting to take notes of asides from funny quips

remember how i said the wyatts werent arguing abt horses? i was wrong

HELP I'M INSIDE A WALL

AH FUCK NOTHER JELLY

I'M GOING TO PARKOUR OVER THE JELLY. LET'S GOOOOOOOOO I'VE GOT A PLUS SIX TO ATHLETICS LETS GOOOOOOOOOOO i lost like half my hp and fell over prone but IT WAS WORTH IT NOT WORTH IT NOT WORTH IT NOT WORTH IT WOW. THIS WAS A BAD IDEA.

SOMEHOW THIS LET ME ESCAPE BC THE JELLY SUCKS THATM UCH

jorb: ..okay, because its a 1, im gonna say youre prone again leo: GODAMNIT

jorb: do you want to spend half of your movement to get up? you don't have anywhere to go-- leo: LET ME UP. I WANT TO STAND UP jorb: okay! whatre you gonna do now- leo: VIOLENCE. I WANT TO KILL [rolls to attack]

jorb: how do you wanna do this? leo: i am going to fucking splatter this jelly like jam on toast.

I KEEP GETTING STUCK IN THE WALL

little guy is putting on a cool necklace they found in a strange tomb! This Is Fine

rubbing my face on a pillar to investigate it leo: [rolls a 5] i go up to the pillar, and i put my face against it, and i just.. stand there leaning on it with my face smooshed on it

leo: i'm gonna keep rubbing my face on it [rolls a 10] jorb: your face hurts a little bit.

npc: hey, uh, whatre you doing over there? alidaar: my best.

tobias: alidaar, did you find anything? alidaar: i found a pillar.

leo: okay, naptime. i fall asleep where im standing - im leaning on the pillar, face smushed against it, and i fall asleep standing there

oh shit, orcs these are the like. generic angy orcs. which is a shame but eh at least i ooc get to feel less guilt about ic alidaar going off the shits in 0.5 seconds surprise round! tobias bisected the first orc and alidaar's breath weapon nearly knocked out the other two. in the surprise round. man i love alidaar's breath weapon WOW. LITTLE GUY JUST DID A CRITICAL HIT. I FEEL BAD FOR THESE GUYS

leo: i feel kinda bad for these orcs! michael: they probably eat babies its fine

michael: i'm going to go full todoroki on this ass [...] yes i had to google to make sure i was getting the name right

all the orcs are just. Obliterated. OH MY GOD THEY DIDNT GET A TURN. THEY DIDNT GET A SINGLE HIT IN WE JUST ANNIHILATED ALL OF THEM michael: ..are we the baddies?

potg: michael sniping an orc in half

#leo chirps #ttprg #doip.

[saipng]

re7 anon, im bad with horror in general so im progressing really slowly but i genuinely thought losing hands was a re8 thing and i felt quite bad for ethan when he lost his left hand like .. he got it back but also i wish he could keep his hands. also if you don't mind me asking, why is re8 a bad game? i dont know anything about this franchise i just jumped straight into the 7th game with 0 knowledge

man oh man how i WISH you hadn’t asked that, for both our sakes. cuz now it is 5 am the day after my birth and there is no way that i am not going to go into an overtly long rant that idk if anyone will care about. but hey, you brought this upon us, so.

without spoilers, why is re8 a bad, bad game?

well, you see. that is simply because it is not a game.

it is a part of a franchise.

listen. listen here. what the hell is that supposed to mean???

there are plenty of franchised games, right. just because a game is part of a franchise, or even a sequel to another game, obviously doesn’t make it automatically bad.

the reason re8 is bad, however, is because that’s all it’s meant to be. it is a sequel and a prequel to yet another sequel. it is not a game.

because, if you look at it from the point of view of a self contained game, it is bad.

the story is all over the place. absolutely nothing is answered or explained, and only more questions are created with the promise to be explored in future games. new characters are introduced only to be very obvious sequel baiting, and absolutely none of them are explored beyond the surfacest of surface levels.

moreover, the reason for things to happen simply isn’t there. the story is so bad, the characters in canon literally cannot explain it to you. the reason is ‘just cuz’. it feels like capcom threw all of their budget into rendering every follicle on dimitrescu’s tiddies as opposed to actually creating a cohesive narrative that doesn’t fall apart at the simplest probing.

see, the reason that re7 worked and re8 doesn’t was because re7 was a GAME. any person, even a person like you, who has never heard of anything resident evil before or even cared about the franchise, could jump in and enjoy their experience with it. the horror works, the story works, the characters work. the pacing is immaculate. i’m not saying it’s a perfect game obviously, but it WORKS and it is FUN. and, for those who DO know resident evil, you get the hints and implications and the lore and even a familiar face and eventually, the dlc. it was an AMAZING reboot to the franchise.

re8 though? re8 assumes you’ve played all of resident evil games before and you’ve enjoyed them immensely and you want more and you will play again and again and again.

im not saying that a game, especially a sequel, has to be completely free of references or call backs to previous games or work alone without any previous knowledge. i mean. that’s not how sequels work.

but in the end, they’re still supposed to make sense. a game is supposed to be that - a game. doesn’t matter if it’s the first or eighth or seventeenth.

re8 feels like a weird wobbly bridge that you got across before the other side is finished building. it is awkward. it feels incomplete, stitched together from different concepts and ideas. they brought back ethan winters only to have no idea what to do with him. they introduced the lords only to be short term hype generators. they shoehorned in chris redfield because he is chris redfield and it really doesn’t matter how much he doesn’t fit.

in my humble opinion, the game needs to be at least 5 hours longer for it to actually start making sense. at LEAST.

the characters, protagonists and antagonists alike, need to actually be explored, the pacing fixed, flimsy writing tied together, map expanded, puzzles actually added in. then, it would be a better game. i don’t know about good. but definitely better.

that being said, you may be thinking. why the HELL is everyone obsessed with this trainwreck????

well, because we’re all mentally ill, that’s why.

okay, serious answer - because the less the assholes give us, the more power it gives us to project and play around. they created these extremely fun concepts and didn’t bother developing them despite the enormous potential and that pissed us all off. well, me. it pissed me off.

and, as we all know, NOTHING motivates me more than spite at this point. so me and the other content creators basically ripped the lords and ethan and rose and all the others out of capcom’s undeserving hands and said ‘okay thanks ours now’.

because dammit, resident evil village could have been SUCH a good game. the idea of it is FUN and we all love it.

the execution? perfectly terrible.

and again, i’m not saying that you’ll hate it. i think you can, and should play it (or at least watch a playthrough). and moreover, i think you’ll enjoy it. i think you’ll have fun, still. i think you’ll like it a lot, as did many others.

none of that erases the fact that it is still very much a bad, bad game.

now, i could go more into how the horror elements greatly suffered because of capcom’s desperate need to rehash re4, or just how much of re4 they actually ripped off and shoved into this game; i could talk about how ethan winters (and mia, to an extent) is a terrible character in this game and reason he works in re7; i could talk at extent why the bakers were truly scary and the lords very much arent; i could even mention all the unnecessary mechanics and how much they truly contributed jack shit to the experience.

i could, but i’m not gonna. this is long enough as it is, and i hope it all made sense, at least somewhat. i tried to not include any spoilers (as much as was possible).

and i also really hope i didn’t dissuade you from giving re8 a try.

because, like i said, it’s still fun. capcom gave us steel beams and pieces of plastic and said ‘go wild’ and we built our own playground. it’s like that post that’s like ‘this amazing new restaurant everyone talks about and you finally go there and they serve white toast bread and everyone brought their own jam’. literally that.

but it can be so good, if that’s something that you can be into !!!

oh and. this is my own personal take on the game, of course. draw your own conclusions, yada yada. but if you’re bad with horror, you’ll find this game easier to digest for sure.

anyway. periodt.😩✌️

#resident evil village #resident evil 8 #re8 #if anyone starts any arguments i’m gonna lose it please don’t okay i’m not strong enough for that #long post #anyway #anonymous #answered