#devilbunnyking

This goes out to the wonderful people on this page who shape my tumblr experience every day. I reached 800 followers and I still can’t believe it! 

These first ones will forever have a special place in my heart ♥ Even though you might not know it, you’re my favourites on here.

@35portlandrow @aestheticedmund @agentscarters @amelieaddams @anabundanceofsarcasm @aylinmoon @baggvinshield @bitch-i-really-mightwing @bonnie-bug @fairytale-villain @hippokratisch @i-m-a-goner-takeitslow @iammissimpossilbe @if-we-burn-you-burn-with--us @joshdunfics @kathis-wonderland @kiopple @luckydun @lucycarlyle @magnesiumflares @mesira-nexos @naivelyhopeful @ofcoursebatman @ohnarnians @queenponds @rcnbweasley @riptide-kid @rronaldbiliusweasley @siriusly-stilinski @true-hauntings @tumnusses @unknowndesu @vesselblurryface @walk-the-sky @you-didnt 

a-i

@ahmbrosia @alien-joshua @alwaysinnarnia @apeollo @beardedchrisevans @bilboo @briannathestrange @bri-ecrit @buccky @buginette @chrisevans-leftboob @cojosweeps @crumblingpotato @cryingteacups @datboispooky @daylightisminetocommand @detective-comics @ddickbbabs @devilbunnyking @dickgraysoff @dontletmebegonelaneboy @fleamontpotter @forest-fragrance @frozenmusings @gambitsobsession @gingerbbatch @goldenlionprince @heresgarnet-withtheweather @hiddlevanstan @holdingontoblurryface @ifwehadamonkey @ignoreme-imaduck @im-fluent-in-parseltongue @immawriteyouthings

j-z

@jishwatylrandtop @lancemcclains @leslie-knopes @llttledipper @lukas0608 @nichtwing @ohyesmarvel @p0ssiblylovely-perpetuallyhuman @reading-writing-dying @robinsandbats @roonilwazib @sapalot @silanceinthetrees @spacemcclain @splatzie @stillpissed-at-alexanderhamilton @sun-surfer234 @thranduilings @turtle297 @twentyonetotoros @tyjosephs @viktorikiforov @violetta-dimayo @waitinghopingliving @youarealmosthere 

Based on an excerpt of @devilbunnyking writing, Small and Petty Gods (grandma doesn’t know how to properly link things)

He reads Karen’s articles in the grey of the morning, when the sky’s just starting to crack open and the spaces between words are easier than watching the minute hand of the clock. He doesn’t read all of them - hell, he doesn’t even read them in the right order, and sometimes he wonders why he does it, why he keeps them, why he lets the papers stack up in the corner. Take a step, make a decision - it’s the kind of certainty he’d sworn by, once. If you’re gonna do it, you do it.

He does, and he doesn’t. Shit stacks up. He gets a box, eventually.

Curt’s a good man. Their evenings, their chats, they become routine - books start appearing in the spaces in his apartment: Moby Dick on the chair, Fitzgerald in the corner; Woolf by the bed, right by the papers.

“I leant over the edge of the boat and fell down, he thought. I went under the sea. I have been dead and yet am now alive.”

Falling, sinking, the sea, where the sand presses back against the soles of your feet and there’s noise and there’s water and you’re thinking, you must be dreaming to find water in a desert like this. But it’s not, you’re home, and it’s your kids around you and your hands are empty, curling around thin air. It feels like a dream, the way time passes and it doesn’t. Reality so thin you can slip through it like a knife.

A: I post way too much

Favrielle: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8094553

Shipsabound: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6869140

http://archiveofourown.org/works/6753934

Just a little drabble for @devilbunnyking who has been an awesome beta and friend and who informed me it’s her birthday today!!

It’s late when Karen gets home. Really late and she’s so tired.

All she can think about is her warm bed, maybe heating something up to eat and then just falling into bed.

It takes her a minute of fumbling for her keys, but she gets the door open with no issues and takes a minute to be thankful that she was able to move to a slightly better apartment.

Closing and locking the door behind herself Karen freezes.

Something’s different.

Slowly, she sets her tote bag down and slips her hand into her purse to grip the .380 before she turns around and scans her apartment.

The bedroom door is slightly open, just as she’d left it this morning.

The light on over the stove. That’s new.

She makes her way over when her eyes land suddenly on the object sitting next to the stove.

It’s a cupcake.

For a second, she ignores the treat and checks to make sure her bedroom and bathroom are clear before she sets the gun down and picks up the note propped up next to the cupcake.

Happy Birthday

It takes Karen a minute to place the handwriting and then it clicks.

Frank.

Frank broke into her new apartment to leave her a cupcake for the birthday even she had forgotten about.

She can’t help but laugh.

It’s such a Frank Castle thing to do, wish her a happy birthday and let her know he’s alive all in one move.

Karen unwraps the cupcake, eats it as she’s moving around her bedroom getting undressed, and as the adrenaline bleeds away she collapses into bed.