Very Sweet - Tumblr Posts
All right, let’s do it that one seems very sweet. I am pretty excited to do this one!
As usual, thank you for the request it just makes me so happy and filled with joy to see that people like my content as it takes a while to make and I have to make it as quickly as possible so I still have time to do other activities! But I also can’t rush it because otherwise, it won’t be good so it takes a lot of effort and I am happy that people enjoy it just as much as I do
Full credit to la-squadra1234
Feitan- when he finds the poem at first, he is a little confused, but then when he continues reading, he honestly finds it, heartwarming and sweet, but then he remembers that he is a heartless, sadistic murderer but then again, his kid wrote him a whole poem literally just for him! Like how many kids do that for their parents he honestly felt so special in that moment<333
Phinks-(wait because why is this, reminding me of the time when he was reading the note that kurapika left for the phantom troupe) he would read it, and a small smile would appear on his face and when his kid walked back into their room. Their face was instantly red and they ran out of the room out of embarrassment, but he would chase after his kid and obviously he would catch up with no struggle at all, and he would tell his kid that it was very sweet of them to write a poem about him specifically and he would also complement his kids writing and tell them to keep writing like this and maybe one day they could become a author or something like that (but like we all know that his kid would be staring at him like bitch please an author seriously??? like he is literally in the phantom troupe BFFR)
Nobunaga-he would definitely be caught off guard when he is reading this poem, but it would instantly change his moved into a happy one! He wouldn’t reveal to his kid that he found the poem just to spare his kid the embarrassment, but you bet your ass he’s taking his kid out for ice cream! (did he kill the ice cream man honestly properly not he was in that good of a mood )
Chrollo-not only would he be super happy about the poem, but he would also be super happy about his kids, grammar and how his kids handwriting is perfect. He would be sure to walk up to his kid and compliment, his hand writing along with his grammar of course his kid would be embarrassed, but he doesn’t care if he wants to complement his kid you bet your ass. He will complement his kid and he will be proud about it as he should
hisoka-honestly I can’t think of anything for him because what would his kid be proud of him about? He is a very laid-back parent I guess if anything he would find a poem about his kid being happy that he doesn’t have his dad always on his back like other kids do or something like that of course if he found a poem like that, he would be pretty happy and he would feel like he is a good parent, and that he did the right thing (y’all we’re not gonna tell him that he’s doing the wrong thing. OK we need to let him have his moment. )
Illumi-I could see him finding a note in his child’s room of his child saying something like I am very fond of my dad. He is a very strong assassin, and he is teaching me to be just like him and I am just super inspired by him and I have been working super hard to impress him. I hope he is happy with how far I have come never mind that I just hope he even notices! He would feel a Rush of emotions he would feel happy, but a bit sad that his kid is unsure if he even notices their progress but then again, he would be happy of the fact that his kid would put in so much effort to make a poem that he didn’t even plan for him to see
Silva-the poem would definitely say something like I am super happy that I have a bunch of very strong siblings things to my dad and I am super happy that my dad is strong and proud of me and he defends me (Ngl that would be so damn cute) even though assassins aren’t supposed to have emotions and he has knocked that into his kid. He has clearly seen that his kid is a bit rebellious just like. Killua I mean he is breaking that no emotion rule, but then again. Silva is as well because he is very happy and thankful that his kid is fond of him. 
And that is it for right now everybody I hope everybody that is reading this enjoyed! I am trying my best to work as fast as I can, but also not make it shitty. I’ve explained something like that. In my last post. Go read it if you haven’t already it’s great trust me!!!
That is really all I have to say for right now!
Have a good night everybody bye now <3


Stop & Go
Yo, check please fandom, here’s a fic that was originally going to be Jack’s Freshmen year (aka Jack & Shitty’s origin story) but this first chapter is just Jack getting to Samwell and might end up being a stand alone. Still, figured I’d post it– Hope you enjoy!
Stop & Go (Or Jack’s Freshmen Year)
It is still shocking, how much the hockey world cares about him. He grew up knowing in an offhand way that his father is a Big Deal and then as he’d gotten older it had become more and more apparent how much people expected him to also be a Big Deal and by age twelve, he knew the hockey world cared about him. So, of course he knew. It’s a part of what had caused this whole mess in the first place.
The problem is that he sort of thought it would go away. After months of rehab and therapy and coaching a peewee team, he almost assumed he would have to start over. In April when he decides to take the SATs, he makes one call to Boston University and inquires about whether or not he would be allowed to play hockey there and suddenly–
Well, it turns out that the hockey world still very much cares about Jack Zimmermann, drug addictions and nervous breakdown or no. Coach Quinn initially starts to go on about “most of our team is recruits, but we do hold open tryouts at the beginning of the fall semester and– wait, what did you say your name was again?” Jack repeats it, expecting the admission to result in a resounding ‘no’ because who would want someone who clearly couldn’t handle the pressure in their program? Except that’s not what happens.
Quinn is suddenly beside himself, asking Jack when he would want to visit and if he’s taken his SATs or needs help with his SATs and “let me put together a packet for you, Jack. I think this would be a great fit. Really, I do.”
It seems silly after he hangs up, it seems like this is something Jack should have expected but he finds himself taking deep breaths and holding them and counting to five before exhaling and suddenly he wishes he didn’t love hockey so much.
Because what he realizes is that he is always going to be a Big Deal in hockey. And if he didn’t ache for the feel of ice under his skates and miss the buzz of adrenaline under his skin and if he didn’t dream about the feel of the puck against his stick and the slap sound it makes when he knows he’s hit it just so, he could just give it up. Slink quietly into obscurity and life a life that revolves around something else.
But he can’t do that and so he tries to make it small and manageable, like his therapist taught him, and vows to call at least one coach a day for two weeks, and promises himself he will go visit at least five schools. Because, he does need hockey again. Coaching is not enough. Not right now. Not yet.
Keep reading
stiles storms into the loft, arms full of bags because he just spent 4 hours in spirit halloween and he cannot be responsible for his own actions when he steps foot into that store. 'i can't believe you forgot to buy the candy!'
one minute he's rushing to put the bags down because they hurt, they're heavy, he is only but a human, ok?? he had at least 5 on each arm, he should win an olymlic gold medal or something.
and then the next minute he has a pair of werewolf arms wrapped around his waist and lips brushing against the back of his neck. 'why do i need candy when i got someone as sweet as you?'
stiles blushes because this whole thing with derek is still new and he would have not believed anyone if they told him the alpha is a sap. a big ol' sticky piece of werewolf sap.
he finds the bowl that has a skeleton relaxing in it like he's taking a bath, limbs hanging out and all, 'oh ok, so I guess i'll go put myself out in the candy bowl for all the moms and dads and age appropriate trick or treaters to take a piece of me.'
derek moves stiles to the side and rips at least 6 bags of candy into the bowl, he's making a mess honestly, all while flashing his deep red eyes and growling at stiles. he even shows a little bit of fang.
the human smirks, 'that's what i thought.'
One angsty drabble based on You’re beautiful by James Blunt with Jungkook pls 🤲 thank you my angst queen and congrats on the milestone!
you're beautiful | jjk
✰ pairing: jeongguk x reader (exes au, non-idol au) ✰ warnings: angst, a mention of j*stin b*eber (it’s not my fault jk loves his music so much 😔) ✰ word count: 0.6k ✰ note: wow i haven’t heard this song in years??? thank you for the request, anon! apple please sponsor me.
—
He thinks he's imagining things, when he sees you.
He's overwhelmed, as he always is—the station at this time of day is always too much. Disgruntled commuters with briefcases line up behind sleepy students in uniform, mothers with unruly children. The older women running the food stalls shout prices, voices piercing as they ring up hard-boiled eggs and jelly candy and canned coffee.
Too loud. Too many people.
He lets his eyes flutter shut as the next train arrives, the accompanying breeze sending a gust of lukewarm air across his face. When the doors open, he hikes his backpack over his shoulders. Follows the flow inside, finds a square centimeter to claim at the very edge.
These subway commutes had been exciting, once. Tinged with the flavor of ignorant ambitions, edged with hope. Your hand laced in his, pure and brilliant comfort. Splitting a pair of AirPods to drown out the anxious, frantic rhythms of the city—Kehlani, Zion.T, Bieber, and everyone in between.
Now, he just lets his eyes fall shut again. Grips onto the handle above, turns up the music playing for an audience of one.
The neutral, unadorned voice from on high calls out the next stop: Korean, then English, the syllables rolling smooth over the white noise of the tracks. When he opens his eyes again, his eyes land on an olive baseball cap.
A familiar olive baseball cap. He blinks twice, runs a tired thumb over his eyelid, but he’d recognize that hat anywhere.
He swallows as the train rolls to a stop, doors sliding open to admit another wave of passengers. Watches helplessly as you take a few steps back and stumble a little, overwhelmed by the flood of people pressing into each other—his hand twitches at his side, almost as if it’s reaching for you by instinct.
Someone else is there to catch you, though.
Someone he doesn’t even notice until a strange hand closes over your shoulder. Until you’re ensconced in unfamiliar arms, smiling up at an unfamiliar face. One AirPod in your ear; one AirPod in his.
You’re just as lovely as he remembers. Sweet smile, strawberry lips, a Miffy keychain attached to your work tote. His heart stops numb as your eyes crinkle, grinning fondly at someone who isn’t him. As your head falls to rest on a shoulder that isn’t his.
The voice calls out the next stop, and you hike your bag up your shoulder, looping your arm through your partner’s. Jeongguk realizes, with a strange sinking feeling, that this must be where you and your partner are getting off—you duck your head down, murmuring apologies as you weave through the unrelenting crowd.
You step closer, closer, your partner following close behind. His heart starts up again. Hammers against his ribs, panicked and urgent, swelling with the remnants of what once was.
You reach the subway doors just a few feet ahead of him. He hopes you don’t see him. He hopes you do.
As the train slows, coming to a stop at the platform, you look up.
Your eyes lock across the sea of lowered heads. The music rises to a crescendo in his ears as you smile softly in recognition and raise a hand—the hand that’s not locked in someone else’s grip.
And then the doors glide open again, and you’re gone. An angel with a smile on her face, vanishing as abruptly as she appeared.
im tired too tbh ur art is great i feel ded :P i luv u drink your water and sleep well if its night where u are ily darling
XDD why thank you! That's very kind of you. Hope you can rest well too and feel less dead :> <3 <3
picture inspired by polish series
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Hello! Do you have a post explaining your ocs and the universe they are in? I just saw the designs and I love them! Your art style is so beautiful!
Hello! I don't have one full post but I do have some links to some asks I have gotten explaining stuff! (Hopefully I linked them right!) but for a general thing for my basic story idea for the comic I'd like to do: Basically Belle (my human Oc) unknowingly performs a wish making ritual that summons Starberry and since Starberry has never been summoned before and Belle doesn't remember what he wished for-Starberry is stuck on Earth! They need to figure out what the wish is or Starberry's star will die and he will fade away! Starnana (Starberry's ex), and Choccostar (Starberry's current rival in stardom) both visit Starberry and try to help and Milkstar (the forgotten star who crashed into Earth and is fading away) also tries to help! Whenever Belle makes the wish Starberry will be able to go back to space, his wish will be granted, but he will forget the stars! So it's basically a bunch of shenanigans and whatnot as Belle is grumpy and aliens are annoying! I'm glad you like my style and art though thank you!! >0<
Growing up is actually all about realizing people don’t inherently dislike you and it’s a bit odd to assume they do
you, me and bubble tea
some tiny genders for pride month !
and please no discourse on whether or not any of them or trans/good rep 🙏 lets just enjoy some trans happiness today <3
- Courtesy of Ed Watz -
Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd 1955
Bread, I'm pretty sure you have an idea who I am, but you do not need to mention me. I think, you need some time to rest friend. Go on and take a nap for me, okay?
Also, we can always chat to each other whenever you are upset or in pain, we are friends after all. But don't force yourself onto anything, and I mean, ANYTHING! I hope you have a wonderful day, night or evening. Just remember, never push yourself, take care of your body and stay bread. You do not need to be a people pleaser, at all, and absolutely live the best life you can. I do not believe there's a second chance, but I wish you the best. Sorry if this may be too long or personal, I just wanted to make sure, you are safe and that's all (◍•ᴗ•◍)
*sobbing noises*
this is so sweet- but bad timing cause I have a choreography camp that lasts 3 hours that makes my body ache lol- but thank you so much!^^ I hope you do the same! Thanks "anon" <3
TOMATO LINGUINE.
carmen “carmy” berzatto x fem!reader — fluff
summary. you surprise carmy with a homemade meal to welcome him home after a long, tiring day at he restaurant. you’re nervous. he’s pleased. you’re tired, and so is he. luckily the couch is calling your names
word count. 834
never wrote him before so im shitting my pants. but he’s been on my mind and needed an outlet. also no s3 spoilers
⎯ ☆ ⎯
Being Carmy's girlfriend isn't always so straightforward. It's great, but it isn't easy. He dislikes the help and aid of others, not because he doesn't like the care or the way it feels, rather, he believes he doesn't deserve it.
So over the past couple of months, you had been subtly increasing the ways you look after him - doing little things to show your love. First, you started small, preparing a water bottle in the fridge overnight, attaching a cute post-it note for him to read as a pick-me-up during service the next day. Then, you moved onto organising his stuff by the front door - lining his clogs and his commuting shoes beside his backpack, placing his coat next to it as an attempt to make his morning easier. You just wanted to help lighten his load, even if that means organising things for him that he’s bound to never forget.
You had been working up to making him dinner. It was an awfully scary thing, not because you were uncertain with your way around the kitchen, but worried in the chance Carmy were to hate it - or make a critique you couldn’t stomach.
You knew he would be tired coming home tonight, a critic in the restaurant will do that to him. You wanted to make him something to eat for when he returns, something homely and welcoming, just something comforting to make up for all of the stresses from today.
You decided on pasta, an all round dish with very little room for error. A jar of sauce would be blasphemy in his apartment, an insult almost, so you made your own simple sauce - placing tomatoes and garlic in a dish, coating it with one of Carmy’s fancy olive oils before throwing it in the oven to roast. It was one you had made a bunch of times for yourself before, so you were fairly confident with it. Sort of.
Remembering little tips he had taught you, you implemented them with everything you cooked - like right now, saving the water from the linguine to incorporate later. And to season throughout, not just at the start or end. You wanted to impress him. You always wanted to impress him.
The key in the door jingles and you rush to add the finishing touches - sprinkling on some chopped herbs, and placing a piece of homemade garlic bread on the side.
“Hi,” you softly call out, hearing his shoes hit the skirting board - no doubt after he had just kicked them off.
He paces over to you, moving sluggishly as he wraps his arms loosely around your waist, chin hooking over your shoulder. “Hi,” he says back, voice tired against your ear. “Smells great in here.”
“Good. I’m glad you think so,” you smile, pressing a kiss into his temple. “I made you dinner.”
“You uh, you did?” he pulls back, a sheepish smile on his face.
You hum, moving aside to pick up the bowl. “But I can put it in the fridge if you’ve already eaten…”
“No no no,” he shakes his head, reaching to take the bowl from your grasp. “I– I haven’t all day, so uh, so this is perfect,” he nods faintly, reaffirming his words.
Your gaze flickers from the bowl to his eyes, growing antsy. “Please just try it, this is killing me,” you say, scrunching your face from the anticipation.
He twirls the pasta on his fork and takes a bite, humming in a pleasant tune as he chews.
“Is it good? Is it bad? Too much garlic?” you ramble, nervous from his lack of verbal response.
“No,” he shakes his head. “It’s uh, it’s tremendous,” he smiles,
“You’re not just saying that?” you joke. “Not trying to spare my feelings, are you?”
“No,” he chuckles earnestly, shaking his head. “I mean it… it’s almost perfect,” his smile softens as he twirls his fork for another bite. “Did uhm, you use my olive oil?”
“Only a little bit– hope that’s okay.”
“Of course,” he nods once more, chewing his mouthful. “It’s great, I love it,” he grins faintly, leaning in to kiss you. “Thank you.”
–
With full, happy bellies, each of you lay on your sides on the sofa - snug to one another to share the small space. Carmen props the side of his head in his fist, elbow bent beside your head.
“How are you feeling?” you ask, referring to the moment of comfortable almost silence.
You notice him hesitate, and to assure him, you copy his movement - propping your head in your hand, your other reaching to the side of his face. You stroke over his sideburn, fingers grazing back into his messy, unkempt curls.
“Tired,” he exhales, eyes closing from your touch.
“Me too,” you murmur. You adjust, eyes silently asking him to do the same. Moving forward and twisting, you lay your head on his chest - your arm wrapping around his waist tightly. “Get some sleep,Bear. Busy day tomorrow, you need the rest.”
this is probs a one time thing btw x
🎵Father and Son - Yusuf/cat Stevens
Original post
another silly comic i put too much energy into
will start repubing some recs! it rarely happens because I am very picky when it comes to the fics I read but tis the season to be in a very bellamy mood.
In the Mountains Shadow
summary: in which he comforts you.
tags: panic attacks. ptsd. hurt/comfort.
w/c: 1.1k.
a/n: no one will ever convince me that the 100 delinquents that were sent the earth, and the subsequent 48 of them that survived mount weather don't have serious ptsd. none of them are okay.
In the late afternoon hours, there was no peace to be found—not for her.
The feeling had come from nowhere, starting so small that she hadn't even noticed it before it crashed against the shore of her emotions, where it shattered into a thousand pieces, and infected her blood. If she could, she'd pull the blood from her veins to stop the feeling.
She was breathing in shallow gasps as she stared at that mountain of death—its shadow looming over her, blocking out the sun until she felt swallowed by darkness. She clutched the handle of the rover to ground herself; her fingers wound so tightly around it that they ached; and her legs wobbled and threatened to give out.
It was getting harder to breathe. It felt like someone had punched her in the chest, grabbed her heart, and squeezed the air from her lungs. Why had she agreed to come back? She never wanted to see this place again, not after...
She gasped loudly and suddenly.
The memories assaulted her all at once, without warning or mercy. The humming of the drill replayed in her ears, a haunting melody that accompanied her torment. Pain scored through her limbs, radiating from the scars on her thighs. Screams echoed around her—Raven's, Abby's, and her own. She could hear Marcus begging and pleading with Cage to stop, insisting that they would donate their bone marrow.
Her stomach twisted into knots, threatening to bring her breakfast up and dump it on the ground right there beside the rover. Waterfall tears fell from her eyes, streaking down her cheeks, leaving her vision blurred. Her body shuddered as a sob welled up in her chest.
"Bellamy..."
Her voice was impossibly soft, so full of fear as the memories of her time inside the mountain continued their relentless assault. She reached out blindly for him, needing something real and warm to hold onto—someone to ground her in the storm that was threatening to undo her. "I don't think I can do this."
She hated this place; no, that was too kind of a word. She loathed this place with every fibre of her being and with every beat of her broken heart.
The mountain was filled with so much needless death—not only the mountain men and grounders but their own as well. Another sob spewed from her trembling lips—the sound gut-wrenching, cutting the dark-haired man to the core—as she remembered being trapped on level five while guards took her friends one by one. They had fought. They had screamed. They had run. None of it mattered in the end.
She remembered Fox's face when they'd found her after everything had been said and done. The blank look in her eyes, the blood dripping from her mouth, the expression etched upon her features, forever frozen in time.
"Oh god."
And then he was there.
Strong hands grabbed her shoulders and dragged her into the shelter of his body, where she buried her face against his chest, hiding from the world just as she'd done when he found her wandering the halls of the mountain. He felt her ball his shirt in her trembling hands, the material being pulled taunt across his back as her tears soaked the front. Bellamy held her tightly as the tears shuddered through her body. He wanted to cry with her, to break down and be weak, but he couldn't.
They had all been broken by the mountain, left tired and scared, but he couldn't break down. He had to be strong when the delinquents couldn't be; he'd bear it so that they didn't have to.
PTSD ran wild through the survivors of the one hundred, all forty-eight of them, and no amount of talking or time would help. Sure, their wounds would heal and scar, but the psychological trauma—the torment—would remain with them every day until they died. None of them would be okay again.
"She doesn't have to go," Bellamy said, his voice gentle as he patted her head, running his fingers through her hair in a soothing gesture. She didn't have to do this, and he wouldn't make her; he wouldn't let anyone make her.
There was a very strong loyalty that Bellamy felt for the delinquents in particular. He had a great deal to make up for, and going into Mount Weather to save them barely covered it. He would go in again, alone; he could find the things that would make their lives on post-apocalyptic-and-current-apocalyptic earth more comfortable.
Her breath was wild and erratic, impossible to catch. Inside, her lungs were burning, desperate for air, as she sobbed and hyperventilated against his chest. She clung to him without shame, her arms wrapped around his torso. He was the only thing that kept her grounded when the trauma threatened to consume her. "I can't, Bell, I can't." She repeated the words, babbling mindlessly.
She remembered how peaceful the mountain had seemed and how utterly perfect it was—a paradise found in a world trying to destroy them. She had loved being inside Mount Weather. All the history at her fingertips, real food, a soft bed, and books!
There had been so many books.
It was home.
Until Clarke pointed out the flaws and inconsistencies, and then the bubble burst. The mountain men's secrecy had come to light, and the superficial charm of Cage Wallace had peeled away like a snake's skin. She remembered Clarke escaping and how hopeless she'd felt while still trapped inside. But most of all, she remembered the feeling of the cuffs around her wrists and ankles—how her skin had been rubbed raw, cut open, and her bones drilled into.
She had been left devastated. Even the whirring of a power tool at Camp Jaha would send her into a panic. There was no concern that she was appearing weak in front of Bellamy. There was only a fear that she might not escape the mountain alive this time.
Bellamy waved for the others to go on ahead, ignoring their concerned stares. When one of them took a tentative step forward, his arms tightened around her, iron bands of muscle pressing her into his body. Above her, he shook his head, silently telling them not to look or touch.
He knew her; he saw her.
And he knew that comfort from anyone else, especially one of the adults that had been responsible for sending one hundred children to earth, would only break the little resolve she was holding onto. So Bellamy held her as she cried; he let her bury her face against his chest and hide from the world. And when her legs gave out, he went to the ground with her, and he held her still.
"I promise you're not alone," he whispered, his lips pressed against the crown of her head, his own heart breaking. He pulled her closer, held her tighter. "You'll never be alone again."
You're obviously hot as hell but I wanna tell you your smile is fucking gorgeous <3
Awww!! 🥰🥰 Thank u so much 💗
Aww, so sweet 🥺❤️❤️
My dad doesn’t use tumblr so it’s safe to share this. He retires in less than two months and he’s looking forward to following his dream of being a nature photographer. He spent his life working to give me the opportunities he never had. I made this for him. I’m getting it printed and framed. We’re all going to sign it and give it to him during his retirement party.
First stony of the year LOL I’m sorry for being so inactive uh I’m kind of working on a few personal things ;;;