May The 10 Of Pentacles Bless Your Account With More Money Than You Can Spend. 💵✨

I’m Sorry {Scott McCall} //smut

*this was just something i had in my drafts its short but i really wanted to finish it. anyway so if you had requested something recently, once i finished the last four of my drafts ill start doing the request in my inbox*

 warning; riding, oral, fingering

request; (just a small treat)

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Know Who You Are

Summary: In which you come home and remind Bucky who he is. 

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,081 

A/N: Inspired by Know Who You Are from the Moana soundtrack. This was supposed to be a drabble, but apparently I’m no good at the whole short and sweet thing. 

@avengerstories - you’ll forever be my editing hero

If a man tortured by his nightmares is crying and no one is around to hear him, does he actually make a sound?

For months, the answer to that question was no.

No one knew about the way Bucky thrashed around like a madman in his sleep. They had no clue that the blankets that covered him became a cage that he couldn’t escape every night. They didn’t realize that his mind was exactly the same.

They didn’t know that he woke up with tears in his eyes that he didn’t remember shedding. They failed to hear him shout for the help that wasn’t coming. They were unaware that the first thing he did when he woke up was jump out of bed and search his surroundings, looking for the evil monster that lurked in his dreams. They were never there to watch the light leave his azure eyes when he looked in the mirror and realized that the monster he was running from was himself.

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Title: “You’re the Web-Head?” (Back to Biology part 2(reader x Peter Parker))

Summary: Peter has forgotten about a study date, which leaves the reader walking alone on the streets of New York, inevitably runnig into Spider-Man.

Warnings: slight language, being mugged, teenage awkwardness

Word Count: 2153

A/N: I LOVE THIS ONE!!! I just couldn’t stop writing in it, so that’s why it’s a bit longer. I hope you all are okay with another Spider-Man imagine? I know I am. Enjoy!

PART 1

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Important

I have reason to believe that someone is going around into other people’s accounts and sending them messages on IM with fake links. 

This happened to me just now. I thought it was suspicious after seeing the tinyurl link, but I clicked it anyway and it brought me here:

Whatever you do, DO NOT LOG IN. Take a closer look at the URL at the top.

This is a scam. It’s a website made to look like tumblr’s home page, and it will steal your information and hack you right out of your account.

My guess is that this has already happened to tumblr user @turntableking and their account is being used to drag more people in.

Please be careful!

https://vine.co/v/5mXtAPaJ2Zd/embed/simple

Just gonna leave this here. [not mine]

“Sick of screaming let us in, The wires got the best of him. All that he’s invested in, goes, straight to hell.”

Requested by Anon

What's this say???

what the FUCK is this supposed to say 

Your Grave

I put off visiting your grave for a long time, honestly. Partly because of the money it would cost to travel to where they buried you. And partly because I thought I was okay without.

But now that I have the money, and now that I’m here. I can’t do this. I can’t look at your grave and remember all the times we could have had, or all the times we did have. I can’t handle knowing that you’re dead, and that box that’s buried in the ground with a urn in it, I can handle that it’s you they’re holding.

I can’t handle that I’m never going to see you again, never see you smile, never hear you laugh. I can’t handle that you’re dead. I just can’t. And most of the time I can hide that- I can bury that feeling that suffocates me.

This is your grave. Your final resting place. You should have lived. That cancer should not have gotten that far. If your stupid family hadn’t said no to your radiation, maybe you would be here right now. Maybe you’d be visiting the old friend you’re buried next to, and maybe it wouldn’t be me mourning the lost loved one.

I was fine- I was excited to see your grave, honestly. I wasn’t excited about your death- no, not at all. But I was excited to finally see your grave simply for the fact that I could stop worrying about the fact that I hadn’t visited. That I hadn’t gotten to your memorial.

And I could stop hurting about the fact that the only memorial of yours that I’ve seen is the obituary online. Or the old stuff of yours that’s laying around my house.

But as I got to your grave, and as I saw it- it hit me hard, it hit me like a truck. I’d been bottling it up for so long and when I finally saw your grave- I just shattered.

All of those tiny little pieces of my walls I’d struggled to put up and mend daily just broke. Your grave to a hammer to them and knocked them down.

I couldn’t handle it. I left almost as soon as I arrived. I’m never going to be able to handle it, I think. It’s just one of those things that I’ll bury until moments like this where I’m writing about it and sob in silently to myself.

Because I miss you. I miss you so fucking much. And I’m never going to see you again. And with that I realise how many photos of you I actually have. And that’s like ten.

I ignored you too much, I was a teen, always busy. Never had the time to hug you when I saw you, or to really say hi, or bye. I never really cherished the moments I spent with you because the thought of you dying- a person filled with such life and happiness- just the thought of you dying is so foreign. It feels wrong.

And when you were in the hospital on and off, it still didn’t really hit me. Only in the one moment we shared together it did.

I said, “I don’t want you to die.”

And you just smiled softly, a reassuring thing, I’m sure, but through my tears I was not reassured, not in the slightest. And you said, “Everyone has their time. Everyone dies. And this is mine.”

What is a young teenager supposed to do with that? I wasn’t going to take it to heart. And I didn’t. I didn’t when my mom woke me at 2:30 in the morning to tell me that they’d called to tell us you’d died. I didn’t, not until I’d seen your grave.

Sure, in passing moments I did, and I cried. But the full force really hit when I walked up to your snow covered grave, the snow crunching under my feet, that, that is when it hit me. I couldn’t hold back the tears.

It shouldn’t have been your time. You should still be here at Christmas, Thanksgiving, my birthday, all of those moments. You should still be there to laugh and make everyone else just as happy as you were.

I miss you so much. I miss you so so much.

JUST LET ME BE.