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ncssian · 4 years ago

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A Favor: Part Thirteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: merry christmas

***

Nesta and Cassian agree to take separate cars to Velaris— not because they’re so afraid of being discovered together that they’ll risk global warming, but because Nesta has a preceding event and tells Cassian not to wait up for her.

After a rushed Secret Santa with the boys at Emerie’s apartment, Nesta drops by Gwyn’s place and leaves a small parcel at the doorstep. She doesn’t have time to knock and make conversation, but the gift is the least she can do after Gwyn surprised her the other day with a copy of a highly anticipated romance book weeks ahead of its official release.

“The library got early copies and I borrowed this one for you,” she said out of nowhere one afternoon, handing her the book. Nesta blinked in shock, not realizing that she and Gwyn were close enough for such acts of kindness. Even if their conversations felt like they’d been friends for much longer, they’d only known each other for a couple of weeks. It was then that she realized that’s just how Gwyn is. She does nice things because she can, not because social bonds or etiquette compels her to.

Guilt isn’t something Nesta feels often, but she was ravaged by it when she thought of not repaying Gwyn’s kindness. She couldn’t bear the idea of imbalances or debts being created in her relationships with her new friends, and spent the last two days searching everywhere for a decent gift to make up for it. She’ll have to text to make sure Gwyn got her present later tonight.

After a two hour drive (she might have taken detours to stall), Nesta is in the hallway leading to Feyre and Rhysand’s penthouse apartment. The door is cracked open enough that laughter and music float out to where she stands, and her fingers tighten on the bag carrying her sisters’ gifts. She checks her makeup in the hall mirror one final time, assuring that not a smidge of her perfect armor is out of place.

An in-and-out operation, she tells herself, flicking a lock of hair away from her face. She’s prepared for this.

Walking up to the half-open door, she’s struck down by the decision of whether to knock before going in or not. Luckily, the choice is taken away from her when the door swings open on its own, and Feyre is on the other side.

“Nesta,” her sister says in surprise, in a good or bad way Nesta doesn’t know.

Nesta blinks. “Did you know I was here?” She gestures to the door.

“Oh, no...” Feyre pokes her head past Nesta into the hallway. “Actually, I was checking to see if the pizza guy was here yet,” —she looks back at Nesta— “but this is even better!”

The slight strain in her voice makes Nesta think otherwise.

She doesn’t play along with the game. She doesn’t even comment on how they’re having pizza on Christmas Eve. Feyre adds after a moment, genuinely this time, “You look beautiful, by the way.”

Nesta glances down at her dress, a skintight ruched piece that shows more chest than usual, and then back up at Feyre’s designer jumpsuit. “So do you,” she says, her voice more flat than she’d prefer it. But she means it. “Can I come in?” she gestures inside, hoping to put an end to this conversation and her nerves.

“Right, duh,” Feyre laughs, grabbing Nesta’s gift bag and waving her inside. “Elain’s in the kitchen if you want to see her. Grab a drink and make yourself comfortable.”

Nesta steps past the door cautiously, eyeing the penthouse as if it’s her first time here. The winding iron-railed staircase is to the right, leading up to the second floor which holds all the bedrooms. The living area sprawls to her left, and through a wood-paneled threshold across from her is the dining room and kitchen. If anything is different from the last time she visited, it’s that the place is now considerably more lived in: pictures, hand-picked art, and other signs of life and love decorate every inch of the apartment, to the point where it makes Nesta feel like a home invader.

She’s so busy absorbing this place she doesn’t belong in that it takes her a moment to realize the room has fallen silent.

She turns to the living area, and her eyes land on Cassian first. He went so far as to put on a suit for tonight, and he’s watching her with a stunned quietness that makes her proud of her own outfit choice.

Nesta knows there are other people in the room, but she really can’t bring herself to care. Her hands twitch at her sides, instinctively reaching for him—

“Look who finally decided to show up,” a smug voice drawls.

Nesta looks away from Cassian to find that just about everybody else is staring at her, too. The voice who spoke up is that tiny woman named Amren, and she’s watching Nesta now with a sharp glint in her gray eyes.

Slick discomfort coats Nesta’s insides at Amren’s tone, and she lets her hands fall behind her back so they can’t reveal her anxiety. “Merry Christmas, everyone,” are the first words out of her mouth.

“’Sup, Nesta,” Cassian is the only one that bothers to respond. His tone holds none of the closeness or intimacy it usually does— it’s been replaced with a removed, almost strained friendliness instead.

Remembering that seeking him out for comfort is not an option tonight, she tries to find somewhere else to look.

In the span of a second, she spies Mor’s curiosity, Rhysand’s vague distaste, and Varian’s hesitance, before finally settling on Azriel’s bland look of disinterest. His phone dangles lazily from his hand, and he looks about two seconds away from going back to it and ignoring her completely.

It’s his detachment that grounds Nesta enough to remember her words. “I’m going to…” she gestures vaguely toward the kitchen, “get some food.”

“I can help—” Feyre starts.

“No, thank you,” Nesta quips, then hightails it out of there. The conversation, along with Nesta’s heartbeat, restarts as soon as she’s out of the room.

Following the short hallway connecting the dining space to the huge kitchen, she freezes when she finds Elain standing before the dual range oven, staring intently down at her phone. She curses herself silently— how did she forget her other sister would be waiting here right after being told so?

Elain’s head snaps up at the sound of Nesta’s heels on the tile, looking flustered. She quickly tucks her phone into the pocket of her apron before she realizes who she’s looking at, and a wide smile overtakes her beautiful face. “Is that really you?” Elain marvels in her lilting southern accent.

The words hit Nesta bluntly for some inexplicable reason. She shakes it off with a blink and smiles back, far more subdued than Elain but still genuine. “Lain,” she greets kindly, like they’re two old friends picking up right where they left off.

It’s Nesta’s fault that things are like this, she knows. She hasn’t bothered holding a real conversation with her closest sister in months, and now she’s in the same room as her hoping she won’t have to face Elain’s disappointment for her distance.

“Oh, get over here, how’ve you been?” Elain crosses the sleek kitchen and waves her into a hug. Nesta awkwardly pats her back, and is held even tighter when she tries pulling away.

She only manages to detach from Elain when Elain’s apron pocket vibrates. Stepping back, she takes her phone out and silences it before tucking it away once more. “So,” she grins when her focus returns to Nesta, “how’s the lone wolf life treating you? Isn’t it great to be back at your old apartment?”

“It’s good. I’m doing good,” she nods along. Nesta hates small talk more than anything, but this is the least she owes Elain. And the least she owes herself, if she’s being honest. Even if she knows she will never truly be fit for a life of socialization.

She takes things a step further and nods to the oven, asking, “What are you cooking up?”

She knows she’s done something right when Elain’s dark eyes light up, and she starts rattling off the three-course menu she’s prepared for tonight. (“What about the pizza on the way?” Nesta asks. Elain’s face darkens. “Don’t get me started. Some of the people in that living room have the taste palate of five year olds.”)

Nesta takes a seat at the island and falls into the age-old rhythm of listening to her sister talk, her heart feeling bruised and soothed at the same time. How similar and different they are now from the people they were ten years ago. Nesta doesn’t know if this is a good thing or not.

***

“That’s the thirtieth time you’ve checked your phone since Mor started telling her dolphin story,” Cassian mutters to Azriel sitting next to him on the couch.

Az clicks his phone off and turns it facedown so Cassian can’t see the screen, his face remaining blank the entire time. “I can’t help it if I’ve heard the dolphin story a hundred times already.”

“You’ve been staring at that thing the entire night,” Cassian calls him out. “Anyone on there more interesting than us, dear brother?”

Az snorts, not bothering to look at him. “Like you’re one to talk.” He reaches for his glass of liquor on the side table.

Cassian frowns as the chatter drowns out his murmur. “What do you mean?”

Azriel takes a sip from his drink, not replying. “When do you plan on letting us back at your cabin?” he says instead.

Cassian snorts. “It’s not like I’ve been keeping you away from it.”

“You turned Rhys and me down every time we made plans about coming over.”

“Because Nesta was staying there.” He is very, very careful about the way he says her name. Even talking about her is walking a thin line.

“She moved out a while ago, though,” Azriel continues. He leans back into the couch. “Speaking of Nesta, I don’t remember her being that hot. Did you see her in that little dress tonight?”

Cassian tenses, dull anger sliding over his bones and under his skin. “We all fucking saw her,” he says tightly.

Az clicks his tongue. “Damn. A woman like that shouldn’t be wasted in a small town.” His eyes slide over to Cassian’s with a dark glint of amusement. “You mind sharing?”

In that moment, Cassian is presented with the option of punching Azriel in the face. Hard. It’s only due to a divine miracle that he doesn’t.

Even with his temper, Cassian knows when he’s being played with. “How did you know.” His voice is flat, cold.

“You have ‘Nesta’s bitch’ written all over your face.”

Goddammit. Cassian clenches his teeth, saying nothing. Can everyone see it, or only his closest brother? How long has he known?

“I had my suspicions,” Az says simply, “when you ran out of Thanksgiving dinner like your ass was on fire after she sent you that thirst trap.”

Cassian blinks. Of course; the bastard peeked at his phone the last time they were together. No reason other than that.

“It wasn’t a thirst trap,” he grits, on high defense now. “It was a perfectly appropriate photo that you never should have seen.”

Az’s lips twitch upward. “Could’ve fooled me with the way you reacted to it.”

This— this is exactly why he doesn’t want anybody to know about him and Nesta. Because even though a weight has been lifted off his chest with Azriel knowing, an even heavier weight has started to sink in his stomach.

For months, Nesta has been his alone. And the idea of opening their relationship up to others’ opinions and judgements...

“Cass?”

He breaks his death glare at Azriel to find Feyre standing over the couch. He blinks; when did she cross the room? “Yeah?”

“You okay?” She glances between him and Azriel, clear-cut concern in her eyes. “You’ve been a little out of it tonight.” These last several weeks, actually, he knows she’s thinking.

He pulls his best Nesta face, all emotion carefully hidden behind a wall so blank it’s almost dead. “I’m doing fine,” he says simply. “Don’t worry about me; worry about Rhys spending all of your money on cards tonight.”

When Feyre still looks hesitant, Cassian summons his signature smile, the one that puts everyone and their babies at ease. He knows he’s succeeded when Feyre’s shoulders sink and she smiles back, nudging him in the arm. “Alright,” she says begrudgingly. “Just don’t keep pulling that long face. It’s Christmas Eve.”

***

Nesta is still hiding out in the kitchen while Elain finishes up a roast chicken when Feyre wanders in, eager to play the doting host.

Nesta pauses in the middle of telling Elain what she got earlier today for Secret Santa, waiting for Feyre to interrupt or insert her opinion, but Feyre only leans against the kitchen entrance and waits for her to go on.

“... So I thought it was hideous, but she insisted I keep it,” Nesta finishes cautiously.

“Who insisted you keep what?” Feyre speaks up.

“My friend Emerie got me a Christmas sweater.” Nesta waves a hand. “It looks like it came out of the recycling bin of a thrift shop, but I think she legitimately expects me to wear it tomorrow.” She huffs a lighthearted laugh, remembering how she and Emerie had cackled over the tacky gift together.

She finds she doesn’t mind talking about Emerie to her sisters. Rather, it’s something that brings her pride, like how she imagines new parents talk about their babies.

“Ain’t that amazing?” Elain speaks from where she arranges the chicken onto a platter, her back turned to both sisters. “While we were worried this whole time about Nesta being holed up in her room, she’s been going out and making friends.” Her voice is tight with a forced cheerfulness that only their mother could have taught her. Nesta stiffens in her seat at the island.

“Oh,” Feyre says shortly, blinking. “I see.”

The easiness Nesta had from talking about her friends slips away, being replaced with her usual mask of steel and ice. “See what?”

“Nothing,” Feyre defends, moving to lean against the island across from her. “We barely ever speak anymore, Nesta. How are we supposed to know what goes on in your life these days?”

“Well, I’m telling you now,” Nesta says coldly.

“She’s also in therapy.” Elain still hasn’t turned around from the stove. “How exciting.”

Nesta whips her head toward Elain in disbelief at the information spilled. So she is angry at Nesta for avoiding her calls.

“Therapy?” Feyre looks taken aback. “For what?”

Elain swoops in before Nesta can choose between scoffing or rolling her eyes at Feyre’s question. “Who cares what it’s for?” She finally turns around, bracing her hands on the counter. “Does it even matter?”

Nesta tastes venom on her tongue, and it wants to be spit in her sisters’ direction. “If you have something you want to say, Elain, say it. The passive-aggressive act makes you look like a fake bitch.”

Elain flinches, and Feyre looks away to hide her tired disappointment. “We still can’t have a single conversation without you going from zero to a hundred, I see.”

You haven’t even seen a hundred yet. “Tell me,” Nesta demands. “What did I do to mortally wound you this time? Is it the fact that I have a life away from your incestuous circle, or am I missing something else?”

Feyre scoffs incredulously, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s the fact, Nesta, that you have it in yourself to be good to everyone except for your sisters! When it was just me you hated, I could accept it fine, but then you left Tennessee and shut Elain out, too. With no explanation.” Hurt dances across her face. “It’s been years and it’s only gotten worse. And after months of near silence you show up here like—like you would rather be part of any family except ours.”

She keeps saying we, like her and Elain’s feelings are one and the same. Like they’ve talked about this before.

Nesta crosses her arms. “So you are mad I have friends.”

“How is that your takeaway from this?” Feyre has to struggle to keep her voice down.

Nesta’s heated eyes cut to Elain, who’s been silent during this whole exchange. “And you agree with her? Or is there something else you’d like to add?”

Elain opens her mouth to respond, but Nesta doesn’t give her the chance. “If I haven’t changed, then neither have you two,” she seethes. “You still think this is the fucking Disney channel or something, where we’re all best friends who have sisterly sleepovers and text each other good night. Wake the fuck up,” she bares her teeth. “Stop expecting things from me and just be happy I’m alive and doing well— because that’s the bare minimum that I’ve always given you!”

But no matter what Nesta says or does, they will never understand her. She will never be enough for them. The realization sinks in with a rattling finality at the resigned look on Feyre and Elain’s faces: like they didn’t hear a word she said. Nesta wonders when they stopped listening.

A throat clears behind her, and she whirls to see Feyre’s boyfriend at the doorway. His pretty-boy face is drawn tight, barely hidden rage simmering in the violet of his eyes. “Pizza’s here,” he says curtly.

Elain blinks tears out of her eyes, spinning back to the counter to pick up the platter of chicken. “Of course,” she says quickly, “the rest of the food is ready too.”

Feyre leaves the kitchen first, then Elain, then Rhysand with a final deadly glare at Nesta.

Nesta doesn’t know how long she stands there in the same spot, unmoving. Only when her phone buzzes from the island countertop does she turn.

Gwyn: did u get me a vibrator for christmas???

***

Cassian hasn’t looked at her all night.

Nesta doesn’t know what she expected when she told him they couldn’t be together in public, but it wasn’t this: him, laughing and talking with everybody at the table save for her. Like she isn’t even sitting there.

Nothing has changed. Least of all her.

She swallows around a mouthful of dry meat, feeling herself slip back into that old, familiar role: the background character. Except tonight is different, because everyone saw Elain’s watery eyes and Rhysand’s furious stare when they left the kitchen, and now Nesta is being ignored on purpose.

The buzzing in her head is louder than any conversation going on at the table anyway. Whether her sisters would believe her or not, Nesta had made plans. Plans to call more often, to make amends for the years of radio silence, to reintroduce herself to Feyre and Elain as a better sister. Not now, but one day— when she finally learned how.

Plans that were all dashed in the span of one conversation. Her knuckles turn bone white around her fork. So much for getting better.

The longer the night goes on, the more hurt and rage swells in her chest, until she fears she can’t say a word without screaming. How long will it be like this between her and her sisters, between her and the world? As if Nesta owes them all one thing or another: her time, her energy, her best smile and her affections. Why does everything have to be an exchange, and why is she always the one giving something up?

Cassian is the one person who always let her be, adjusting to her whenever she couldn’t adjust to him. But she’s having trouble remembering that fact when he won’t even spare a glance her way. When he’s sitting there laughing with Mor in a way he never laughs with her.

“And what about you, girl?”

Amren’s voice drags Nesta out of her haze, and she realizes the woman is speaking to her.

Nesta doesn’t like the way Amren speaks— with barely hidden cruelty, like she takes joy in watching people squirm.

Nesta blinks. “What?”

A slow smile creeps up Amren’s red mouth. “I said,” she repeats, “are you finding the pay for your work at Night Court sufficient?”

“Amren,” Cassian starts, but Nesta is already on her feet. The table falls silent.

“I have to...” she mumbles unintelligibly. She can’t come up with an excuse. Shaking her head, she leaves the table without finishing her sentence. Leaves the dining room and the whole damn apartment.

***

The slam of the door shutting echoes through the penthouse. No one speaks for a long moment, and Cassian finds himself filling the silence: “Was that necessary, Amren?”

Amren sneers. “What did I do?”

Because he’s counting down the seconds until it’s acceptable to go after Nesta, Cassian indulges her. “Not everyone has it in them to play Mean Girls with you whenever you feel like it.”

“Yeah, but did she have to ruin dinner over it?” Mor snorts, reaching over and plucking a roasted Brussels sprout from Nesta’s nearly untouched plate.

Feyre stands up. “I’ll go after her—”

“Don’t bother,” Cassian says, earning a raised brow from Azriel. Elain looks inclined to agree with Cassian until he adds, “I’ll check on her. You don’t need to stress, Feyre.” With a reassuring smile, he pushes out of his seat and heads for the door.

Each casual step toward Nesta lasts a million years, but he finally reaches the hallway beyond the apartment, letting his facade drop in the same breath that the door shuts behind him. Relief wracks his body when he finds Nesta waiting for the elevator, still here.

“Nes,” he calls, hurrying after her.

She punches the elevator button repeatedly, as if that’ll get it to hurry up. He catches up to her and takes hold of her hand, turning her around—

She snatches her wrist out of his grip like she’s been burned, her fingers flexing with pent up emotion. “Not tonight, Cassian.”

“I’ll go home with you, you can tell me what’s wrong—”

“No.”

“Why the hell not?” he demands. She never shuts him out like this.

Nesta stares intently at the elevator doors. “Go back to forgetting I exist.” Her voice is flat.

He scoffs in disbelief. “You’re not serious—”

She whirls on him so quickly he almost stumbles back in surprise. “You didn’t look at me once the entire night.”

Cassian stills, stunned. Is that what this is about? “How could I have?” he laughs, shaking his head. “You’re the one who doesn’t want anyone knowing about us!”

“So you pretend I’m not there at all?” Hurt flares beneath her angered words.

“I can’t do both.” He fights to keep his voice low, aware of the thin walls. “I can’t look at you and not have everyone see what I feel for you— you’re all over me.” Even Azriel sees it, for God’s sake.

“What’s the truth, then?” she hisses. “Are you a terrible actor or a great one? Because in that apartment I forgot we were even in a relationship.”

“You walked in looking like that,” he gestures wildly at the black sheer mesh hugging her body, “and I was supposed to, what? Act like we were friends?” He hasn’t spent all night nearly losing his mind trying to fulfill Nesta’s wishes, trying not to let his feelings show, to get dragged through the mud for it.

“Is that your best excuse?” Nesta sneers. “I used to be too boring to spare a glance, and now I’m too sexy?” She steps closer to him, bringing them chest to chest. “We were good distractions for each other in your lonely little cabin, but deep down you know we wouldn’t last a day in the real world. That’s why we haven’t told anybody, Cassian.”

Cassian knows a spiral when he sees one, and he’s fighting not to get dragged into Nesta’s. “I know this isn’t about me.” He closes his eyes, praying for calm. “It’s about whatever happened with Feyre and Elain tonight.”

Which is the wrong thing to say, from the way Nesta’s face reddens. “Don’t even fucking go there.”

He doesn’t realize that the elevator has dinged open until Nesta reaches out her arm to stop the doors from closing. “You know nothing about me,” she says heatedly. “You were sad and desperate for acknowledgement when we first met, and you’re the same way now. You haven’t. Learned. Anything.”

Cassian almost wishes she would scream senseless things at him like she used to do whenever she was upset— because this refined wrath of hers is so much more hurtful. And it makes him angry, too.

He leans in until his nose is brushing hers. “If this is one of those things where you try to push me away by being cruel, I’m not fucking buying it.”

Like a switch is flipped, the flame in Nesta’s eyes flares out. He sees that dead nothingness and knows he’s lost. “You don’t have to buy it,” she says simply. She steps onto the waiting elevator, and he doesn’t try stopping her. She doesn’t want to be stopped.

Nesta gives him a final look before the doors shut between them. “And I wore this dress for you, asshole.”

Cassian stands there long after she’s gone. Not knowing what to do next.

A muffled laugh breaks through to him from the other side of the walls, and he realizes that everyone has moved back into the living room. Turning around, he goes back inside to his friends.

***

;)

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#nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years ago

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3 Simple Rules for Dating a Centenarian

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 2374

Summary: After seeing Steve's shield handed over to some stranger, Sam calls up Bucky, certain he's the one person who can properly commiserate. He doesn't really expect Bucky to answer though (the guy's become a bit of a recluse), or to hear the hints that he might be missing Sam as much as Sam's been missing him. Not that he'd ever say it straight out.

Sam is almost completely still as the feelings rattle through him like a roller coaster’s last run on a derelict track. He only lets it out—the blend of frustration, betrayal, and regret—in the way his fingers squeeze his knee through his jeans, skin damp against the denim. Keeping his hands clasped, and watching those clasped hands, was more grounding, but he needs one of his hands to hold the phone to his ear, and that activity is getting pretty damn tired.

Bucky’s voicemail clicks on for the third time in a row.

“Bucky,” Sam says, “I know you prefer calls to texting, so what are you doing ignoring me, man? Haven’t used your cell in so long that you’ve forgotten how to hit the answer button? At least it rang. That’s something, I guess.”

He sighs away from the speaker where it won’t be recorded for Bucky to hear later. Maybe he did divert his message from the snarky sarcasm he was planning to leave the guy, but Bucky doesn’t need to hear him sigh on top of that.

For a few moments, Sam taps his foot along with the muffled music of his nephews’ video game coming through the closed door. He knows the boys’ routine (and if he ever forgets, he sees the copy Sarah has on the fridge door) and that this isn’t their usual scheduled time for whatever they’re playing out there. Best guess: Sarah wants them hogging the TV so she won’t be tempted to peek at that government-sanctioned shitshow. Sam can’t blame her. Actually, he wonders if she blames him. The disappointment was so clear in her eyes before he stopped making himself meet them. He thought he was doing the right thing when he handed the shield over. Are there people out there who think he’s let them down, or just his sister? Just himself?

He can’t talk to Sarah right now and he’s thankful that she’s giving him some time to himself, but as soon as he got it, he realized he didn’t know what to do with it. Just like that shield. Dialing Bucky over and over—tapping in every number every time because that appears to be part of this pity ritual he’s performing—seemed like the thing he should do. Probably won’t answer. That asshole is terrible at staying in touch. Still, Sam’s heart feels a little heavier with every word closer he gets to the end of this message. Feels like he’s trying to keep the thing afloat in his chest, like his parents’ boat down at the dock. This is what he knows he should do when everything in him wants to sink—reach out, talk to people. Kinda self-sabotage when he picks the one person almost guaranteed not to answer.

Oh, he’ll hear back from Bucky eventually, probably a handful of choppy texts sent in the middle of the night two weeks from now. Sam knows his pattern; Bucky’s chattiest between 3am and 4am, so chatty that what are likely intended as longer blocks of text arrive in broken fragments because he wants to make everything into neat paragraphs, like he’s writing a damn letter, instead of just getting to the point, but he hits send too soon. Sam would teach him—with plenty of mocking and name-calling, but he would teach him—only while he’s been running ops all over the planet, Bucky’s shrunk his own world way down. He’s gone local to the extreme and it aggravates Sam, even though Bucky isn’t his responsibility, isn’t his other inheritance from Steve. It’s sorta just easier to feel like Bucky is a misplaced bequest than to acknowledge that maybe he misses the guy and his sharp-shooter’s eye and his caveman hair. He can’t keep calling him.

“Thought I’d give you a heads-up,” Sam says, voice weary with this half-true excuse. “Maybe you already saw.” He clears his throat and says quickly, “Anyway, guess I’ll hear from you when I hear from you.”

He’s pulling the phone away from his head and has barely ended the call when it’s ringing in his hand. He answers and catches Bucky’s voice saying his name before it’s even back up to his ear.

“Bucky?” Sam says. “You have a senior’s moment and forget where you left your phone?”

“Nah,” Bucky says. “I saw it was you and decided to ignore it.”

“But you called back.”

“You wouldn’t quit calling. Seemed like you needed me to tell you directly to knock it off.”

“Jackass.” Sam’s gaze darts to the door, but it’s still shut. No chance Sarah saw him grinning over this easy banter. Always the banter with this idiot. Always easy. He sniffs and turns his chair away from the black TV screen. “Did you see that joker on the news?”

Bucky’s either less self-conscious or more inept because he sighs right into the mouthpiece, an exhausted breath in Sam’s ear that has his fingers fleetingly digging into his knee.

“Couldn’t believe that shit,” Bucky tells him in a rough voice. He’s clearly holding back his own feelings about today’s events and, from the sounds of it, they’re more along the lines of anger, hurt, and a simmering desire to wrench the shield from the arm of the new Captain America. “You know that thing’s supposed to be yours.”

“You saying I should’ve done something to stop it?” Sam demands.

“Coulda.”

Sam forces his shoulders to drop, draws a slow breath in and pushes it back out.

“It wasn’t mine anymore, if it ever was. I gave it to the Smithsonian. They sealed it in this glass case and added it to the exhibit.”

“Not a very tight seal.”

“Guess not,” Sam agrees.

“You shouldn’t have turned it over,” Bucky says. Sam’s silent, frowning, and Bucky goes on. “Forget about the shield being given to somebody else—it shouldn’t have even been in a glass case. Doesn’t belong there.”

“I do just fine without it,” Sam assures him. The practicalities of carrying that shield around are more straightforward to discuss than his yawning uncertainty in the face of Steve’s legacy and his place relative to it. “The shield would only get in the way of the wings.”

“You and those wings.”

“Hey, they carried me over Tunisia recently. Show some respect.”

“Didn’t hear about that,” Bucky says in a tone that’s difficult to interpret, though Sam squints thoughtfully as he listens.

“Yeah, well, I shouldn’t even be telling the likes of you, but it was discrete. As far as the major players are concerned, I was never there.”

“So it was illegal?”

Sam’s head tips back as he laughs hard.

“Why, you wanna turn me in?” he jokes. “Working on the government’s trust? What’s the next level up from a pardon? Knighthood?”

“You are such a pain in the ass,” Bucky groans, which really does make Sam smile.

“I’m sure it would’ve been illegal if you were there,” he says automatically. Too fast, his imagination fills it in, a fictional alternative materializing in his mind. Him and Bucky, cocky in reckless freefall. Him and Bucky, fighting back-to-back in a plummeting aircraft. Sam screening Bucky from enemy fire with his wings. Bucky deflecting a stray bullet with his arm before it could hit Sam.

“Nah, I can’t do that no more.”

“Uh huh. I’m sure you’re an angel.”

“Anybody get hurt?” Bucky asks.

Sam glances through the window at the blue sky, the truck rolling unhurriedly past with the driver’s arm hanging out to catch the sun. Beautiful day. He remembers a kick that sent a guy through the door of the plane, sucked out into the sky, another guy tossed aside who tried to fight him in midair, and a helicopter aflame as it went down. He shrugs and figures Bucky’ll hear the gesture in his voice.

“Nobody who didn’t know the risks.”

“Of going up against Captain America?” Bucky probes. Sam rolls his eyes.

“You know, that would almost be a compliment if you got my name right.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not using the name just to avoid compliments from me.”

“I honestly can’t say which one would feel more wrong,” Sam says, passing a hand over his head as he leans back in his chair, “calling myself Captain America or hearing a little overdue praise from you.”

“I’m not really a words guy. Ask my therapist.”

Sam sits with that for a second. He’s happy that Bucky’s talking to someone. He needs it, badly, after decades of violence and being belted into the passenger seat of his own brain. It’s more than Bucky’s ever admitted to him before, but Sam would bet—and bet big—that seeing some stranger named as Steve’s successor today has gotten to Bucky as much as it’s gotten to him. Something like that is bound to open Bucky up a little. He’s the only other person Sam can imagine the news having such a monumental impact on.

“You could try words,” he goads, not wanting to leave Bucky hanging more than a few seconds after his admission. “What else do you have if you don’t feel like being a human action figure?”

“I have my system. My rules.”

“Oh yeah? What rules?”

“Three of ’em,” Bucky informs him. “Nothing illegal. Nobody gets hurt. Making amends for the actions of the Winter Solider.”

“You don’t have to make amends for something you—”

“Don’t. It… helps.”

And who is Sam to question what’s helping Bucky? After the multiple-lifetimes’ worth of hell the guy’s been through?

“Good for you, man,” Sam offers softly.

“Save it, Sam.” The words are clipped but light. Sam grins.

“No words for me either? You more comfortable with me sticking to actions? How are we supposed to talk to each other when you don’t come to Tunisia with me?”

“Wasn’t invited,” Bucky quips back.

“You mighta been if you answered your phone more often. I’m not gonna send you the details to a covert operation in a text.”

“You wanted me in Tunisia?”

“You get shit done,” Sam acknowledges simply. You wanted me in Tunisia? echoes in his head. His heart’s bobbing like a buoy now. You wanted me in Tunisia? You wanted me?

“Not like that.”

“‘Not illegal,’” Sam repeats. “‘Nobody gets hurt. Making amends.’”

“Right. Can’t do any of that.”

“Well, I’m glad this regime’s working for you, but you have to admit it’s weird that I saw more of you when we were fighting alien hordes.”

“What can I say?” Bucky asks in a tone that seems to consciously flatten the charm out of it. “I’m old-fashioned now.”

Sam snorts.

“You were old-fashioned then.”

“I assume you had a team on the ground.”

“I had to,” Sam says over the sound of a squabble in the other room. Immediately, he can hear Sarah’s voice rising slightly above, breaking it up. Just like that, there’s the looping music of the video game again. She’s raised those boys well. “Couldn’t wait around for you.”

“I might show up if you asked me on better dates.”

“It wasn’t a date, it was a goddamn op.”

It’s startling to hear the sound of laughter. Not hearty, deep, rich, or loud, but definitely laughter. Bucky laughs? Sam backtracks a minute. Bucky makes jokes? About dating? About the two of them dating? Evidently, that is something he’s capable of, along with returning calls during daylight hours.

Sam shifts in his seat.

“You could come around sometime,” he suggests, nervously rubbing a hand up and down his thigh. “If you like fish and you’re ever in Louisiana.”

“I do like fish,” Bucky says. “I’ve been going to this sushi place a lot lately.”

It’s not his taste that surprises Sam—it’s the readiness with which he responds to the invitation. He would’ve sooner guessed that Bucky would tell him to shove it up his ass. In a joking way, but still.

“On dates?” Sam asks, telling himself he’s providing some good-natured hassling and that it has nothing to do with the odd feeling he got when Bucky’s joke about them dating caught up with him.

“One. Mostly, I go with Mr. Nakajima.”

“And that’s not a date?”

Sam laughs and wishes he could shut his own mouth as firmly as he’s (many times) told Bucky to shut his.

“I’m pretty sure he’s in his eighties, so he’s more age-appropriate for me than most people, but I murdered his son,” Bucky says grimly.

“Amends?” Sam guesses, adjusting his tone to cope with Bucky’s emotional switchback.

“I haven’t told him yet, but, yeah, I’m working on that.”

They’re both working on something, Sam thinks. Both confronting something that feels too big to tackle—the decision not to announce himself as the new Captain America, guilt for assassinations Bucky had no control over but which span the better part of a century. Sometimes it seems to Sam that they go up against the easiest situations as a team and face the hardest stuff alone. But he called Bucky, and Bucky called back.

“You could bring some of those amends down here and trade them for a snapper dinner,” Sam proposes, aiming for irritatingly cheerful to pull Bucky back out of the dark.

“What do I have to make amends to you for?”

“Being a dick. I’ll text you my sister’s address.”

Sam swiftly ends the call. There are two possible sources to which he can attribute the small surge of adrenaline he feels: hanging up on Bucky and the fact that he might’ve just asked him on a date. When Sam dialed, he knew it was because he didn’t want to do this alone, but he thought that meant watching the appointment of an upstart Captain America. Although he believed he could count on Bucky’s understanding today and for the near future, asking him down to have dinner with Sarah and the boys (or tricking him into it, since he didn’t exactly say it’d be a thing with the whole family) lengthens the timeline. Near future? Inviting Bucky to meet his family and see where he grew up means recognizing that he’ll be in his life a little longer. Alone? Sam might forget the meaning of the word.

#my writing #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #sambucky #Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

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katytheinspiredworkaholic · 4 years ago

Text

Correspondence, Chapter 04

Pairing: HotchReid

Summary: An AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email referred from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. They know nothing about each other, but they don't really mind.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventually)

Chapter CW/notes: Action-y in that there is offscreen violence and peril, injuries, talk of surgery and symptoms/effects of medical grade narcotics (morphine), more on that big ol’ age difference. Side notes: Agent Anderson of the L.A. field office has no relation to Agent Anderson of Quantico, VA, because Agent Anderson of the BAU is a national treasure. (I’m considering going back and renaming the OC, but as of right now this is the last we hear of him for a while). And I know no one really pays attention to them, but the time stamps on the texts match the time zone of the scene setting. Set in season 6, self beta’d.

Word Count: 8893

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link

Chapter 04

Late September 2010

Spencer Reid wakes up to the early grey morning two weeks later, a perpetual haze shrouding his room long before his alarm was supposed to rouse him. He reaches blindly, blearing eyed and checks his phone for what feels like the hundredth time, only to find no messages waiting for him. A terrible, horrid feeling has been clawing at his chest and throat the longer it gets -- the more time that passes -- and he still hasn’t heard from Hotch.

They’ve been messaging each other near constantly for months now, and it only seemed to get more intense after that fateful talk at the beginning of September. Where Hotch finally revealed he’d thought Spencer was much older than him, and not the other way around. Spencer had set him straight, as much as he could, and even that had been nerve-wracking to say the least. The two men were crossing into a territory neither really wanted to put a label on, and Spencer was both afraid of it and excited by it. Of what it could mean, and how long it could last, but he’d thought he’d had time to figure out a solution to his inadvertent secrecy.

Then, Hotch began working a case in Delaware two days ago.

It seemed like a textbook unsub; maybe a little aggressive with anti-establishment overtones, but nothing they couldn’t handle. Nothing the BAU hasn’t seen before. They’d been closing in on the suspect, no location yet but some prospects that needed checking out, and the last Spencer had heard from Hotch…

It had been lunchtime for him, and midafternoon for the older man. The exchange hadn’t been anything of consequence, just their usual, easy correspondence. Hotch was going to check out that lead they’d spoken of, Spencer had a budget meeting as soon as he was done eating in the middle of his office hours, and they had a plan to play chess online that night. Hotch is still terrible at it, but he keeps coming back no matter how thoroughly Spencer wipes the floor with him. Now, sometimes they just forget about the game entirely after the first few minutes. It makes him smile each and every time, soft and fond and lighting a warmth inside him Spencer has… never felt before.

Then Hotch hadn’t messaged him the rest of the night.

Hadn’t shown up online to play chess.

Hadn’t texted him goodnight, or even sent him an update on the case.

Nothing in their conversations warranted such ostracization, and although Spencer has been ‘ghosted’ before (as his doctoral students would say) he knows Hotch would never do that. Not after everything, the history they’ve built the past months -- leaving nothing but the dread to sink in and spread like a stain.

All night, he imagines the worst.

By morning, he all but expects it.

[]9/22, 18:59[] Are you alright? Did something happen with the case?

[]9/22, 19:10[] If you were that scared of losing at chess, I can also beat you at online poker instead.

[]9/22, 19:30[] I’d suggest scrabble but that’s honestly not fair to you.

[]9/22, 21:55[] Hotch?

[]9/22, 22:30[] I’m assuming that lead panned out, and you caught your unsub and are neck deep in interrogation.

[]9/22, 22:36[] I don’t want to imagine anything else, so that’s what I will picture.

[]9/23, 00:06[] Hotch please answer me.

[]9/23, 05:32[] Please be okay.

Spencer arrives at Caltech looking a little more of a mess than usual. More than most are used to seeing him, at least, and it causes a few second glances from students he passes and other faculty -- but he really can’t find it in himself to care, this morning. His unruly curls, getting longer again, falling into his face and over his ears, are frizzy in their unkemptness. Bags under his eyes, normal, but he’s settled for glasses instead of his contacts. He has a spare pair in his desk, he’ll have to change them before class. His glasses somehow always make him look even younger. A mystery that boggles the mind, because once he had grown into his face a few years ago (around 26 or 27, close enough he had worried he would forever be cursed with a ‘baby face’) Spencer had thought he would finally be getting away from that.

And yet, square jaw and ‘grandpa’ glasses and thin frame towering just over six feet did nothing in the slightest to aid him. Certainly not stopping a man outside the campus coffee shop from shouting “Watch where you’re going, kid!” as he near barrels over him on the sidewalk. Not his sweater vest or half suits, attire straight out of a 1940’s noir film (he’d even sported a vintage inspired undercut with his waves combed over for a while there, too. Way too much upkeep, as nice as it looked). Nothing makes him any more grown up in the eyes of the unsuspecting world, than he’d been without his five doctorates and board of director’s seat. No matter what he tried, it seems.

This has been a subliminal thing for years, something Spencer always said didn’t bother him in the slightest. And for a long time he didn’t care one way or the other, he just kept getting more degrees. All his life Spencer has been ‘too young’, always been ‘kid’ or ‘sport’ or ‘tiger’, even when running quantum physics equations in his head. And it didn’t matter. Not with his credentials and accomplishments and everything he now has to his name.

Until Hotch.

Now, Spencer cares.

Notices, even through his haze of worry and sleeplessness, how on the street it’s “Watch it, kid!” and fifteen yards later it’s “Good morning, Dr. Reid” as he steps into the Physics building where everyone knows him on sight. Knows him, and what he’s capable of.

What if when Hotch met him all he saw was… another kid?

If they ever met.

“Whoa, rough night Dr. Reid?”

“Yes, you could say that,” he mumbles out as he signs in and scans his ID card, taking the stack of mail that the desk attendant hands him. But stops before he gets too far from the desk, backtracking. “Hey, have you watched the news this morning? Did anything show up about New England or Delaware?”

“Not that I saw, Dr. Reid,” she says in confusion, looking up from where she had been texting on her phone. “Just a whole lot of coverage on the shitshow at capital hill, as usual. Oh, and more depressing reports about the earthquake clean-up in New Zealand.”

Of course, why would there be a news story about a killer in Delaware here in California. He’d have to look up everything online himself.

“Thanks anyway, Carla.”

“No problem, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer spends way too long online that morning, searching for anything about the case Hotch and his team are working. He usually prefers paper copies of news media, at first barely knowing where to begin, but he falls into a wormhole of news outlets and local Delaware station websites, reading the thousands of webpages faster than he can scroll and click through them. But he can’t find anything pointing to a disturbance related to the case. There's nothing about a raid, or a shooting, or even an arrest -- which could all just be a part of the ongoing media blackout -- but it also does nothing to stop him from panicking. Spencer gives up after an hour, and diverts to other resources. Ones with a direct line to Hotch.

With a drafted email pulled up to Ms. Penelope Garcia, the BAU's personal tech analyst, he ponders how to... even word this without it sounding too personal. Too much like he and Hotch have more than just a working relationship.

Because they do. They have... something.

Something that gives him fluttering sensations in his stomach, makes him check his phone constantly, and react to even the slightest chime similar to his text tone. Makes him smile when he sees Hotch's name on his notifications, in his email inbox, makes him message the man in the middle of the day at the most random thoughts. Just because he wants to make him laugh.

[]8/21, 15:36[] You're going to get me in trouble.

[]8/21, 15:38[] You didn’t laugh in front of your team, did you? The scandal.

[]8/21, 15:42[] I'm at a crime scene. There's a dead body in front of me.

[]8/21, 15:43[] Then why are you checking your phone?

[]8/21, 15:45[] You know why.

But that’s not something that is shared with the rest of the team, he’s sure. So he should be careful how he words his email, lest Ms. Garcia realize that Spencer isn’t asking purely as a colleague.

Surely they know he has friends, though?

Chewing his lip, Spencer types out a brief email asking if Agent Hotchner is feeling well since he missed an appointment the night before and hasn’t been returning his calls. It’s a phrase he’s used often, so it comes naturally to Spencer as he types it out, and he realizes… he hasn’t called. He’s sent a dozen text messages, but not a phone call. Never a phone call. That was against the rules, the unspoken ones that always kept this friendship easy and free-flowing and evolving into something more.

But this feels like the closest to an emergency they’ve ever encountered before.

He looks to his phone beside him on his desk, and tries to fight back the dueling forms of panic clawing at his chest. Listed in bullet points behind his eyes. Panic that Hotch might not answer, panic what that means for the man he’s been… becoming more and more inclined to than any other person he’s met in so long. Panic if he does answer, breaking that barrier of written words to spoken, and the opportunity to hear Hotch’s voice. But he would also hear Spencer’s, and then there would be no hiding just how… how young he really is. He still didn’t have a plan for that, wracking his overworked brain day and night for a way to incorporate the information into a conversation that wouldn’t stop everything in its tracks.

But his phone is in his hand before he can stop himself, Hotch’s contact pulled up and his thumb hovering over the phone number with baited breath.

Was he really going to do this?

He presses the touch screen and can hear the line connecting, the dial tone ring even before he gets the phone up to his ear and waits. It rings, and rings, and rings a fourth time -- before clicking over to voicemail. And Spencer’s hyper-fast thought processes fail him as he realizes far too late that he’s going to hear Hotch’s voice for the first time, anyway. Frozen in a panic, unsure if he wants to or if that had been something he wanted them to do together that the seconds slip by like water through his fingers and suddenly it’s too late.

“You’ve reached the voicemail box of -- (703)-567-8790 -- this caller is not available. Please leave a message after the tone--”

It’s an automated, female voice that rattles off the numbers and generic call back message, and Spencer hangs up before it can begin recording him. Exhaling a shaky breath, relief a flash flood on his nerves that nothing had been ruined between him and Hotch thanks to an ill-timed phone call.

He keeps the momentum going without much thought, and adjusts his email to Ms. Garcia before sending it.

It feels so understated, and yet over dramatic the more he thinks about it. The more he reads it.

Please let me know of his well-being.

God, no wonder Hotch thought he was in his 60’s.

But Spencer has to keep the façade up, for now, not give away anything he doesn’t want to just because the emotional part of his brain is running rampant over the rational one. There are… many explanations as to why Hotch isn’t answering him. His gut feeling aside, he doesn’t need to be panicking like this. The world is still turning, he still has work to do, so Spencer tries to gather himself into some semblance of order and preps to talk to his doctoral students within the hour.

His morning routine progresses as usual, as if nothing at all is wrong with the world. Dr. Reid has his mandatory round up with his doctoral candidates going over thesis and dissertation parameters, class lecture schedules, updates, the works. Like morning announcements, but he requires them all to be there and to listen, and they all show up. Everyone knows of Spencer’s eidetic memory. He will certainly not forget a single date or schedule change, and he expects his students to not forget as well.

But this morning Spencer is fully distracted, his mind elsewhere, somewhere in the state of Delaware with an agent who may or may not be in danger. Because Spencer cannot shake the feeling that something is wrong. It almost seems more like a fact than a feeling. The juxtaposition of his daily routine and this unfounded worry throws him entirely off kilter, and all of his students seem to know right away.

Then, his distraction reaches its peak when his email pings, right in the middle of his department announcements. A response from Ms. Garcia of Quantico, VA flashing across his laptop screen. Spencer’s eyes skim the preview sentence in the pop-up box, and his voice trails off as his mind… whirls.

Dr. Reid, I’m sorry to tell you I don’t know when Hotch will be available again. There was an incident, and he’s still in surg-

Surgery.

That vice-like grip of worry that has taken hold of him since last night tightens further, to the point Spencer can’t breathe. Hotch is in surgery, Hotch is hurt, and if he hasn’t been answering his phone since last night -- or even late yesterday afternoon -- it was not a minor thing.

Hotch is hurt.

She doesn’t know when he will be--

If he will be --

“Dr. Reid? Are you okay?”

“I--” he’s still looking at the email pop-up box, and is clicking on it before he can stop himself. Immediately disconnecting his laptop from the projector as his email loads there. It takes him a fraction of a second to read the email. “I’m sorry, an emergency just came up. Kimmy, finish reading off the schedule for me?” He doesn’t even wait until she answers him, just picks up his laptop and retreats to his office as fast as his long legs will carry him.

--surgery and we’re still waiting on word. I know you 2 talk on the reg so I’ll keep you posted.

Fret not, genius professor, our fearless leader has been through much worse than this.

She’s using informal speech patterns, which she has never done before. It bleeds her nervousness, and worries Spencer even more. Teetering on the edge of panic. Ms. Garcia also revealed she knows he and Hotch talk, but surprisingly that doesn’t have the effect he thought it would on his already rattled nerves. Instead, any and all reservations fall away as he types out a response much in the same way he and Hotch had started their friendship all those months ago.

Please, is there anything you are allowed to tell me about the case or his condition? We --

Spencer pauses, bites his lip as he considers crossing this boundary into the uncomfortable unknown, and then thinks about Hotch on a hospital operating table three thousand miles away.

“Screw it,” he mutters and continues to type.

--We’ve become good friends and I’m very worried.

The reply is almost immediate.

That makes 2 of us, boy wonder, but I’m already hacked into the hospital records database and Prentiss is in the waiting room for any immediate actions.

I’m sending you the case files and the incident report from last night. Maybe you can see some shiz we can’t b/c the bossman is tough but he’s been in surgery a long time.

Of course, whatever he can do to help. Spencer’s heavy heart-beat triples in his chest as pulls up the files and immediately prints them out so he can read through them faster. Utilizing anything and everything he can do to aid the BAU team, and whatever Hotch has gotten himself into. But then, his mind sticks on something from the email. Boy Wonder. It stalls his hands mid-movement.

Ms. Garcia knows how young he is.

She must have done a background check on him, that would make sense since he’s been consulting so much lately. But why would Garcia know his age, and not Hotch? Wouldn’t she send the files to him directly? Had Hotch really known, all along?

Or did she do it on her own, and not tell him? Assuming her boss already knew everything about him. It’s too many questions and possibilities and they are interfering with what’s most important right now. Best to get it out of the way, no time to be indirect about it.

Ms. Garcia, did you update my dossier with the bureau after you ran my background check?

If you’re referring to why Hotch seems to think you’re rocking the senior discount at restaurants and not still getting carded for beer, then no I didn’t update it. I’m very anti-gov files having every detail of our lives in them, that’s what I’m for, and I figured there was a reason he didn’t know. Your secret is safe with me, sugar bean.

Spencer hadn’t meant for it to be a secret at all, it just happened that way.

The real reason is Agent Anderson of the LA field office is a dick, with a bully streak he never outgrew after high school, and didn’t bother filling out a full file on him the first time Spencer consulted for the FBI. Then, he couldn’t be bothered to update it when his consultations became more than a one time thing.

But that was all in the past now, and Spencer can’t even be upset about it. Because now he has Hotch.

Thank you, Ms. Garcia. I’ll let you know my findings soon.

He skims the file quickly, pulling information out at lightning speed. It appears a very straight-forward case. As straight-forward as a murderous sociopath can be, anyway. Very anti-establishment, like he and Hotch had discussed the previous day, aiming for specified targets that devolved to anyone in a uniform. Anyone who appears too official, or labels as official.

It’s easy to see, now, why the unsub attacked Hotch instead of running from him. He practically served himself up on a silver platter. But there’s something about the kills that’s bothering Spencer. The knife wounds, bludgeoning, even the gunshots during the first murders when the unsub still hesitated -- it’s all overkill. Rage. Every single target has died from massive internal bleeding, M.E. reports all label the knife wounds and beatings as the cause. But the amount of blood left over, measured during autopsy, doesn’t add up. They bled too much. No wounds indicating intentional bleeding occurred, and the tox screens are all clean.

Except, every victim’s hospital records show elevated potassium rates. Spencer’s hands, skimming down each and every page quick as they can, stop on a dime as his gaze zero in on the information.

“Oh, God,” Spencer whispers, quiet and horrified. “--Hotch.”

There’s no time for email.

He picks up his phone, goes to an older email that has full contact details in the footer, and dials Ms. Garcia’s direct line in Quantico.

“Speak, and behold greatness.”

“Ms. Garcia, it’s Dr. Reid,” Spencer says, and his tone and quickened speech patterns gives way to his panic.

“Dr-- Dr. Reid?”

“Yes, quick there’s no time. Do you have Hotch’s hospital records in front of you still?”

“Yes,” Garcia says, her voice a musical thing even in it’s breathless reaction to his heightened state of haste. “Updated every two minutes.”

“Is his potassium elevated?”

Some quick typing of keys that move faster than even he could ever hope to type. “...Yes.”

God. “Okay, okay I need you to call the hospital right now,” Spencer says in a spiel that all sounds like one word. “Whatever you have to do, he needs Sodium Polystyrene Sulfonate as soon as possible, to counteract the chemical imbalance or he’s going to go into kidney failure and bleed out.”

There’s more typing going on and Ms. Garcia’s breathing has gone a little labored.

“Alright, alright I’m getting patched through. What else can you tell me?”

“I think he’s been dosed with something called an XG Compound, either Eastman or Zhao I have to look up the specific components and chemist. But they are a series of banned, experimental military-grade drugs that suffer effects of thinning the blood, that’s why they can’t stop the bleeding around his stab wounds and old scar tissue.” Hotch’s old wounds from Foyet would only exacerbate the condition, once it reached the kidney failure stage, but up until then the intrusions of hardened tissue is the only reason his abdominal cavity hasn’t been flooded with blood and drowned out his other organs.

“Okay, okay I’m through, I’m keeping you on the line. Stand by-- ” then she clicks over and he’s left with a pulsating silence. Nothing remaining but continuing his work, and hoping he’d called in time. Hoping that Hotch will be alright.

Spencer is digging through his floor to ceiling bookshelves for the biology book on airborne pathogens given to him by a visiting Professor two years ago and he is hating himself for never cracking it in that moment. It’s nearly the last book he gets a hand on, because of course it is, and he makes it a third of the way through the book before Garcia is back on the line. The phone on the floor beside him and just barely within reach.

“You literal genius, I could kiss you,” Garcia tells him in what can only be overstated relief, and Spencer snatches up his phone with a very undignified scramble. “They’ve had to do two transfusions on him and are prepping a third, but you were right he’s been dosed with that XG compound.”

“He’s going to be okay?” Spencer asks, still cross-legged on his office floor surrounded by books and holding his phone to his ear like a lifeline.

“Yes, yes my dear he’s going to be alright. They think. He’s not out of the woods yet and the surgery is still going on, but he -- he would have died within the next hour if you hadn’t found out what was wrong.”

Spencer’s heart is in his throat, her words doing the exact opposite of reassuring him. Hotch had been that close to dying, to being forever out of reach, because Spencer had been too scared to pick up the phone.

“I should have called sooner,” he says, so quiet even someone in the room wouldn’t have heard him correctly. “I knew something was wrong.”

“Oh no, sugar don’t think like that. You just saved his life,” she pauses, like she wants to say something else, but diverts to an adjacent topic. “How did you know?”

“Autopsy reports. There wasn’t enough blood left in the bodies, they bled out too quickly. Then I saw the elevated Potassium,” he murmurs it all, rattled off without really thinking about it.

“And you just… knew all of that, without looking anything up?”

“That’s basically what I do. The only reason anyone calls me,” Spencer laughs but it holds no humor. “I know too much, make connections, and drink too much coffee.”

“You drink and know things, oh God I hope you get that reference because you’re getting a coffee mug.”

Spencer laughs a little, despite the situation, and feels… lighter, somehow, even with the worry still plaguing him. Caught up in his chest like a bad cold.

“I’m reading this textbook on airborne pathogens, I have a hunch, and I’ll send you anything I find that can help with the case,” Spencer continues, his voice not so heavy for a moment. “Just… tell me when he’s out of surgery? Keep me posted?”

“Of course, honey, you’ll be my first message,” Ms. Garcia assures him, but then she pauses again -- and he almost hangs up because it feels too anticipatory. “You should tell him, B.T.Dubs.”

Spencer hesitates more than is probably necessary.

“... I don’t know what good that will do,” he admits, quiet and unsure. “I’m not -- I’m not ready for this to be over.”

“You’re not that young, honey. Does he know you like him?”

��Mmhmm,” Spencer makes a nervous, affirmative sound. “And… he likes me, or who he thinks I am.”

“Don’t write him off just yet, Doc, let him speak for himself when he wakes up,” Ms. Garcia all but scolds him, in as gentle a way as possible and Spencer appreciates that, at least.

“--I’ll think about it.”

Not long after Spencer finds what he’s looking for: military grade poisons that were banned for causing adverse effects, listed and categorized by chemist and agency. It is the Eastman compound, originated during the first invasion of Afghanistan. Their unsub has prolonged exposure, Spencer is sure, and that will narrow down the suspect pool immensely.

After he sends the information to Ms. Garcia, Spencer looks to his phone once more, where there is a block of text all from him himself in his correspondence with Hotch. Begging him to be alright, to answer him, and now that he knows that the man has a fighting chance -- or as much of one as he will be able to have, with where advanced medicine resides in the current conjecture of time -- there really isn’t much he can do now. But hope. And wait. And pray.

Except Spencer doesn’t believe in prayer, or God, or anything that might hear him. The only thing he really believes in is science, and facts, and none of that is very helpful to him right now. Except maybe the coincidental balance of the universe, in a theoretical physics sense, and unexplained phenomenon that have an equal and spatial balance to it. Anything with the descriptor ‘unexplained’ always draws him in like a moth to flame, and he knows he can typically find a semblance of comfort in the way his brain constantly connects dots and far off specks of information that not everyone can see at first glance. Constellations in the sky. But only when he has someone to tell it to, that even pretends to listen for a moment, and for a long while now… Hotch has been that someone. Hotch always listens to him.

Before he knows it, he’s typing into the text box once more --

[]9/23, 11:10[] You’re in surgery still, but Ms. Garcia has confirmed the treatments are working and they are able to actually repair the damage instead of treading water like they have been the past ten hours. I’ve had her personally in contact with the doctors and surgical staff, and all they’ve been able to tell us is to let them work and just pray for you.

[]9/23, 11:13[] Which is such an odd thing; men of science telling people to pray like the outcome of a surgery isn’t in their hands, but some theoretical astronomical entity. I know it’s probably just a ‘bedside-manner’ tactic, but it doesn’t help me in the slightest so it just irks me instead.

[]9/23, 11:15[] I don’t believe in prayer -- a shock, I’m sure -- but I do believe in the phenomenon of universal affirmation. It’s an interesting trend in history and spans cultures where if someone has something awaiting them, to live for, even if they are unaware of it… they will fight harder to cling to life.

[]9/23, 11:18[] But I also know you will fight tooth and nail for Jack, and for your team that you treat like family, and maybe even me. I’d like to hope I’m included in that, and no amount of books or IQ points can make me think of something to contribute to help you keep fighting.

[]9/23, 11:19[] Just please keep fighting. Come back. And if I come up with something to entice you… I’ll let you know.

It eases a lot of the tension in his chest, talking to Hotch like this -- even if he’s just talking at him, in a place where he might never know what Spencer has had to say. But he can hope. Hope that Hotch will wake up and have thirty missed messages and see they are all from Spencer and it will make him smile.

Spencer would give anything to see him smile, and he allows himself to hope that one day... he might get to.

He might as well, while he’s sitting there hopelessly hoping for things beyond his control.

Come back to me.

Spencer almost types it out, can see it in the text window though he hasn’t pressed a single letter, and closes his phone before he can. Pressing it to his mouth and closing his eyes and just…

Hoping.

The hours roll over into the afternoon, and there’s still no word.

Spencer has spent the majority of the day messaging Ms. Garcia, who has had no information beyond trivial updates here and there and Spencer has read more about surgical procedures and practices than he has in his entire life. Even raided the biology department’s library, surrounding himself with the comfort of books and files and filled his head with the soothing monotony of medical terms and safety protocols.

But once noon has come and gone he finds himself staring into the bookshelves across from where he sits on the floor, among stacks of textbooks, with an epiphany trying to make itself known to him. Despite his every attempt to ignore it.

His phone is back in his hand, there’s an email correspondence from Ms. Garcia that only briefly says Still nothing. And that makes up Spencer’s mind.

[]9/23, 12:49[] I’ve thought of something.

What he types next makes it hard to breathe, his heart lodged in his throat, and it all comes flowing out of him much like before. His fingers keep moving, his emotional part of his brain steam-rolls over the rational one, and then he’s done and he’s tacked on six extra messages and Spencer has to put his phone away before he rereads it beyond what is deemed healthy or sane.

Because he’s done what he could, and all he can do is believe that will be enough to… subliminally keep Hotch fighting. The day is only half over, and Spencer feels like he hasn’t slept in a week.

It would be hours before he got the message that would send relief through his spine like a shot of Novocain. Just three words from Ms. Garcia, sent in haste in a text instead of an email.

{}9/23, 14:58{} He’s in recovery.

Hotch wakes up just barely the first time, the room spinning and hit with that familiar smell of anesthesia he can always taste as it fills his senses, before he slips back under.

The second time is to a small pencil light being flashed in his eyes, staccato movements meant to test his pupil reactions, and an older woman in nurse’s scrubs saying his name and calling to him. He hums an affirmative, even though he isn’t fully returned to a working state of mind. Instinct, more than clarity.

“Welcome back, Agent Hotchner.”

“About damn time,” he hears Prentiss say from somewhere across the room. Probably leaning the wall, if that faux drone is anything to go by. The nurse gives her a look but his agent isn’t even fazed by it, as far as Hotch can see. It takes him a moment for his eyes to adjust that far. But he knows the look well enough he doesn’t actually have to see it.

“Where is everyone? Is anyone else hurt?” Hotch can feel the words form on his tongue, droned out in a haze, his mind slowly coming back to him.

“Good to see you, too, boss,” Prentiss says in mild exacerbation, coming up to the side of his bed but not taking a seat. She must have been waiting a long time, her whole stance jittery just like after long flights on cases. “Everyone is fine, you’re the only one that got into a knife fight with an unsub who’s into biological warfare.” Hotch blinks at her, trying to make her words make sense without asking it of her. He remembers going to a warehouse to follow a lead, but not much else after that. It’s coming back too slowly to keep up with her. Prentiss just sighs, and repeats herself. “Everyone is fine.”

She regales him with a play by play, his own memories appearing like raindrops on a windshield to accompany her commentary. Slowly beginning to form a picture of what had happened. He’d been stabbed before, more than he cares to think about, and he’s been dosed with military-grade drugs before as well -- but never both at the same time. No wonder he feels like he’s been hit by a truck.

“You’re lucky to be alive, honestly,” she points out, hip resting against the plastic side panels of his hospital bed.

“Yeah, I’m gathering that.”

“And your phone has been blowing up like crazy.”

Hotch is finally able to sit up enough and see straight without his vision swimming, to find that his agent does indeed have his cell phone in her hands.

“What?”

“Yeah, eight missed calls and three voicemails, and--” she squints at the screen before looking at him in astonished confusion, “eighty-seven missed text messages, from a whole bunch of people. I’m not reading through all of them. I didn’t know you were that popular.”

“I’m the Unit Chief, popularity has nothing to do with it,” Hotch deadpans, more himself. Wanting to reach for his phone but his arms are still dealing with pins and needles sensations, sluggish to lift and his fingers uncooperative. “Who called me eight times?”

“Let’s see,” she unlocks his phone -- somehow, god damn it Prentiss -- and scrolls through his notifications. “Two calls from Jessica, one from me, three from Strauss (Jesus), one from Dr. Reid, and one from Garcia. It doesn’t say who the voicemails are from.”

Hotch suddenly feels much more alert, his heart rate monitor picking up but he does his best not to draw attention to it, instead looking up at Prentiss as carefully guarded as he ever is.

“Dr. Reid called?” he tries to keep his voice even, and unaffected, but the aftereffects of the drugs in his system leave a little more hitch in his voice than he would have liked.

“Yeah, he’s been talking to Garcia,” Prentiss says without much comment, still scrolling through his phone and making Hotch a little more than nervous. “Busted the case wide open, and saved your life while he was at it. We never would have known you were dosed with something if he hadn’t figured it out. Think you owe that old man a fruit basket.”

“Can I have my phone back?”

“Don’t think you’re supposed to have it,” she says without looking up, still scrolling through his notifications. “Lots of junk e-mail…”

“One of those voicemails is probably Jack, I should call and let them know I’m alright,” Hotch tries to reason with her.

“He and Jess are already on their way up, they’ll land in an hour,” Prentiss tells him, but looks over her shoulder for that nurse as she makes to hand Hotch his phone anyway. Still hesitant despite her predilections to breaking every rule she can get away with.

“I still want it back,” Hotch insists, regretting saying it as soon as he does.

It catches Prentiss’ attention a little too sharply. “...why?” But at Hotch’s steady stare and solid silence, unwavering like he hadn’t just been in surgery for hours on end, she finally relents and hands it over, still giving him a suspicious look.

“It’s important,” he finally admits, when she doesn’t stop staring for a good couple of minutes. Those perfectly shaped eyebrows raise near to her hairline, the profiler in her connecting more dots than should be humanly possible.

A small smile teases her lips, though not fully forming there. “Now I wish I’d read them.”

Hotch just gives her a reprimanding look of his own, but it’s short lived.

“Thank you, for staying.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Prentiss assures him, her smile going softer. “I’ll leave you to your mystery woman.” A beat, another raised eyebrow. “Person.” A knowing look, but then she exits and Hotch is able to look at his phone at his own discretion.

Hotch goes through the text messages with a brief glance; there’s so many of them. Other agents and agencies, his team in a group chat Garcia had started, Jessica left fifteen before someone got a hold of her, and Jack’s school sending reminders about soccer and parent teacher conferences.

But 39 are from Spencer, and his heart constricts in his chest at the worry he must have caused the man. Aches next to the scars on his chest and the blood that doesn’t belong to him in his veins. And somewhere in the recesses of his mind, it’s coupled with a torturous feeling of longing. Even subtle jealousy, because even half drugged out of his mind Hotch hadn’t missed the precise word choices Prentiss used. Garcia has been talking to Spencer -- talking.

Garcia got to hear him.

She talked to Spencer, when he still hadn’t, because of some unspoken rule Hotch isn’t even sure when they decided upon. He still knew so little about the man, and Spencer’s voice could tell him so much with just a few words. He could fill volumes with what he would learn from just a single message --

Without much further thought, Hotch pulls up his voice mail. Listens to the automated voices and the three messages there. None are from Spencer, although his heart had beat a little harder in anticipation -- enough his heart monitor beeped audibly next to him. Embarrassing as that was, like a lovestruck teenager. He’d glared at it and centered his breathing until his heart rate slowed back down, not wanting to alert the nurses station. Two of the voicemails are from Jessica’s phone, one of her worried out of her mind, and the other of Jack telling him they are coming to see him and he hopes he feels better soon. Just listening to his son speak more strongly than his aunt had or anyone else should in his situation, telling his daddy he loves him while the sounds of a commercial airline filter through the background, makes Hotch want to smile and sob all at once.

The last voicemail is from Garcia, telling him a similar story to what Prentiss had earlier, but with a bit more detail on her end. How ‘Dr. Reid’ called her out of the blue, because there had been no time for his usual emails, and gave them the information that saved his life. He’d been working the case diligently, ever since, and was checking up on him a lot. More than a lot. ‘Let him know you’re okay, when you wake up and get this. The poor guy is worried sick, and my updates only give him so much comfort.’

Spencer had actually called Garcia, when he hasn’t physically spoken to anyone in Quantico the entire time he’s consulted for them, just to save a few precious seconds to relay what he’d found. He’d even broken their rule, probably before hand, and called Hotch -- just to make sure he was okay. Hadn’t stopped working to help, the moment he found out he wasn’t.

It’s a strange thought, that if not for Spencer -- Hotch would be dead. That Jack would be flying up here for a very different reason.

Hotch switches over to the text messages with a lump in his throat. Not at all prepared, emotionally, but needing to know.

The 39 messages start from the night before, when they were supposed to have had their usual online chess date. They range from playful banter, teasing edged in worry, and escalate to panic as the night wears on. Anxious worry bleeding through the single sentences, building and building until that lump in his throat feels like it might block off all air soon.

Please be okay.

God, that alone starts to set a tone -- and reveals something Hotch hadn’t expected to find. Those three words give way to his speech pathology training, and all indicate that Spencer is… very likely younger than he’d originally thought. Some of Hotch’s assumptions might be close, even the teasing ones he’d only said because he’d been sure they were wrong. The other man is obviously beyond worried about him, as well. Petrified, despite knowing the risks of his job. They had become so close the past few months, were most definitely past the flirting stage and into something so tentative and wonderful Hotch can barely believe it some days. But they had never talked about this, about the possibility that Hotch might walk into a situation one day and not walk back out of it.

Spencer’s messages soon give way to him just… talking at Hotch. Relaying what was happening, philosophical rants meant to ease his own mind and Hotch finds himself smiling softly at the man’s constant stream of thought, lectures at genius levels that he still feels so compelled to share with Hotch. Because they are that close. They really, truly, are -- and it brightens the fluttering feeling in his chest all the more. How Spencer is trying, subliminally, to draw Hotch back to the light. Three thousand miles away.

Please come back.

Hotch hears it loud and clear, the come back to me. Even unwritten. And it makes his heart skip a beat, aching as it does.

Then…

[]9/23, 15:49[] I’ve thought of something.

[]9/23, 15:52[] I’m 29.

Hotch doesn’t understand, at first. But then it hits him.

Years.

29 years.

Spencer is 29 years old. Proven, further, by the following messages sent after that.

[]9/23, 15:56[] I’m a certified child prodigy, on a registry and everything. I graduated high school at just twelve years old, and had my first Ph.D. by 15. Youngest in CalTech history.

29.

Jesus Christ, no wonder he hadn’t wanted to tell Hotch his age. 29 is… far younger than he expected.

When Spencer was born, Hotch was getting his driver’s license. 16 years difference in age…

He keeps reading, despite the numb aftermath of a bomb going off inside his head, trying to process it and also hear the younger man out.

Younger. Spencer is 16 years younger than Hotch, and he finds himself scrubbing at his face to try and wake himself up further as he reads what Spencer sent.

[]9/23, 15:57[] I turn 30 at the end of October, and I was trying to wait until then to tell you.

[]9/23, 16:00[] I’ve noticed a prominent dynamic shift in perception, between listing my age as in my 20’s and ‘almost 30’. It’s a numerical allusion our brains can’t help. You hear 29, you think 21. It happens with decades, too, once someone is outside the familial range of 10 years. +/- either side.

[]9/23, 16:02[] An age gap doesn’t sound as bad when I’m 30. That’s why I wanted to wait, just a little while longer, but if that universal affirmation phenomenon actually works for us -- I don’t mind dealing with the consequences.

[]9/23, 16:03[] Just please come back.

[]9/23, 16:07[] Please be okay.

[]9/23, 16:10[] I miss you.

His heart is about to be ripped to shreds.

Hotch feels terrible, because Spencer is right. 29 sounds so young, and it keeps repeating in his head over and over. But 29 isn’t the same as 21, he isn’t some college student still stumbling around trying to figure out his life. He has five Ph.D.’s, runs three departments at one of the best universities in the country, is consulted by the FBI and Homeland Security and very obviously has a reputation he upholds to the highest regard. Hotch had guessed Spencer was 32 not so long ago, what was the big difference between that and his actual age? From what little Spencer just shared of his life story, he’s never gotten to be a kid, so who was Hotch to consider him one? What gave him the right to be floored by this, did it actually change what he thought of Spencer? How he felt about him only moments prior to reading that?

I miss you. Come back. Please be okay.

I’m 29.

It could be the recent flirtation with death, the anesthesia or the morphine, even the gratitude that Hotch will get to see his son again and not leave him without both his parents -- there’s so many reasons for him to take pause as he considers the messages in front of him.

But it feels a lot like the months of talking, and the countless late nights spent together, that pile up and up in his chest. A rising pressure that reminds Hotch that he and Spencer have something, and it’s not a normal, regular situation for either of them. Something that precedent, and everything Hotch has ever been told to hold to standard, doesn’t seem to fit. He and Spencer don’t seem to fit, when looked at afar or even on paper -- but they do. They really do. It was never supposed to be something that could be this easy, or normal in any capacity.

But what about their lives ever was?

[]9/23, 18:26[] I’m so sorry I worried you.

[]9/23, 18:26[] I miss you, too.

[]9/23, 18:27[] If I stop answering you, the nurse took my phone away. I hate hospitals.

[]9/23, 18:29[] Hotch, you scared me to death.

[]9/23, 18:30[] I know, I’m sorry.

[]9/23, 18:31[] From what I heard, you saved my life.

[]9/23, 18:33[] I don’t even know how to begin thanking you for that.

[]9/23, 18:36[] Just get better.

[]9/23, 18:38[] Which means resting, don’t glare at your nurses too much. They’re there to help you.

There’s a long stretch of a pause in their correspondence, which picks up so smooth and easy it’s as if they had never stopped. Like the last few days hadn’t happened at all. But they had, they were both looking at the messages to prove that. He does take pause, maybe more than he should, and Hotch knows miles away Spencer is just as nervous. Staring at his phone.

Hotch isn’t wrong. Spencer let out such an exclamation of relief at Hotch’s name on his notifications he about sobbed with it. He never cries, hasn’t in years -- but his eyes sting with relief and worry and… an emotion he doesn’t want to name.

[]9/23, 18:44[] What day is your birthday?

[]9/23, 18:45[] October 28th.

[]9/23, 18:45[] Same week as mine. November 2nd.

Hotch pauses, again, considers his next response… and 3,000 miles away Spencer can barely blink as he stares at his phone with mounting dread.

[]9/23, 18:49[] I understand why you didn’t want to tell me. It’s alright.

[]9/23, 18:51[] Am I correct in assuming you’ve never been in a relationship with this much of an age gap?

It takes Hotch a moment to even gather the courage to type that out and send it. Knows it sounds almost too formal, for them, but Hotch also knows that he and Spencer are balanced on the edge of a knife, here, and… no matter what the outcome, everything is about to change between them.

Spencer licks his lips in nervousness, reading the line over and over although he has no need to. It feels like a tipping point, and he’s still… terrified this will be his last conversation with Hotch outside of case work. Ever.

[]9/23, 18:55[] Never.

[]9/23, 18:57[] I haven’t had many relationships at all. My peer groups have always been older than me, and people my own age never understood me enough to be interested. So it’s just something I was used to, going without.

[]9/23, 18:59[] This has been… the closest thing to what I’ve been told is normal that I’ve ever experienced. I’ve never had the chance to have something like this with someone, or connect in this way. I gave up, for a long while there.

[]9/23, 19:01[] I’ve been in a similar situation before, on an intellectual spectrum.

[]9/23, 19:03[] I’ve never--

Hotch pauses, again, putting his thoughts in order. Weighing it all, before taking that final leap. Spencer waiting with baited breath, all the more.

But Hotch doesn’t regret what he sends. Not one bit.

[]9/23, 19:03[] I’ve never dated anyone younger than me like this, before, so we’ll both be on a learning curve.

[]9/23, 19:03[] But we will figure it out. Together.

Spencer’s breath catches, and he can’t seem to release it again. He can’t believe what he’s reading. What Hotch has sent him.

He said ‘dated’.

He thought they were dating. Spencer isn’t quite sure he can trust his own eyes, despite the words being there in stark black and white on his phone screen.

[]9/23, 19:06[] Dating?

Hotch smiles, because he just knows -- from that single word text -- that Spencer has sent it not in admonishment or anything negative of the sort. But in hope. Confident that he recognizes the nuance in Spencer's voice even without ever having heard it, Hotch just knows, and it makes warmth blossom anew in his chest. Sends his heart rate monitor skittering across the machine all over again.

[]9/23, 19:08[] Hate to be the one to tell you, but all of those late nights where we talked for hours instead of playing chess? Those were dates.

Spencer has his hand over his mouth, still in disbelief that he hadn’t… fucked this up beyond repair. That his age hadn’t been the deal breaker he’d feared so vehemently for months now. That everything is still as it was, age difference and life-threatening situation, aside.

They were dating. All this time.

[]9/23, 19:10[] I should have worn nicer clothes.

Hotch laughs at his phone at the same time Spencer laughs at his own, having reread what he’d sent.

3,000 miles away, and their quiet laughter coincides perfectly.

[]9/23, 19:11[] Our next one I’m sure I’ll be in a hospital gown, so I think you’re in the clear.

[]9/23, 19:12[] Sounds like you’re making plans, already.

[]9/23, 19:12[] You still need rest.

[]9/23, 19:14[] Well, I have to thank you somehow. And, I saw something about poker instead of chess? I’m actually not bad at poker.

[]9/23, 19:15[] … you remember I’m from Vegas, right?

[]9/23, 19:16[] We’ll play for fake money.

[]9/23, 19:18[] No such thing.

[]9/23, 19:19[] I do play for favors, though.

[]9/23, 19:19[] Oh?

Hotch feels a wild, youthful thing unfurl in his chest as he types away. Mischievous, almost, in a way he only gets when he and Spencer are hours deep into conversations in the middle of the night. But it’s broad daylight, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too wide. Getting lost in the thrill of it all. In the officiality of it, now, and another curtain unveiled between them.

[]9/23, 19:20[] Did you have something in mind?

Spencer has to be blushing seven shades of red, right about now, and he hides his face from his phone for a moment before he realizes how ridiculous that is -- Hotch can’t see him. He can stop messaging the man any time he wants to.

Except he doesn’t want to.

[]9/23, 19:24[] I’ll get back to you.

Hotch can’t help it as he grins at his phone. A wry, suggestive thing, but he manages to school it before a passing nurse can see him -- how his eyes are alight with possibility. With elation, just from talking to the younger man that had seemed to capture a part of him he thought wasn’t available to anyone any more, and types out one last -- slightly more flirtatious subtext to put a cap on their conversation. To indicate he’s awaiting more, always wanting a little more of Dr. Spencer Reid.

He can blame it on the morphine, later.

[]9/23, 19:25[] Looking forward to it.

(tbc...)

Tagged List: @spencehotchner @ssa-sarahsunshine @gothamapologist @reidology @marsjareau @dragon-snaps-fandom @emmyraebird @just-an-emo-rat @aaron-hotchner187 @dk18077 @more-heid-pls @fakin-it-til-i-make-it @merpancake

#I legit added like 1500 words while editing this afternoon so I'm hella worried it's convoluted but HERE IT IS #Getting this show on the ROAD #cross your fingers and pray I have this damn tumblr formatting thing figured out #hope you enjoy everyone I love ALL OF YOU #super duper long chapter #Correspondence #HotchReid #Heid #Updates on Saturdays hit me up if you want in on the tag list #katyswriting

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moonbeamsung · 4 years ago

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hey! this has been getting popular recently, so pair your moots with an nct fic trope or/and ship them with nct?? i love your works too!! can't wait for the next one :)) heh

(anon, i’m so sorry this took so long! thanks for your patience! this also kinda turned into association instead of ships but i also base ships on similarities? so it works out hehe)

🎄dear moots: think of these ships/mini fics as a small christmas/holiday/end of the year gift from me to you! i sincerely hope you like them, it’s not much but it’s the least i can do to express my gratitude for all the love and happiness you’ve made me feel this year, even if we’ve just recently met! i’m so thankful for all of you and i love you very much!🎄

hi lovely anon!! <3 omg you love my works? that means so much to me, i hope you’re having a wonderful day!! thank you so much for sending me this, i had been hoping to do something like it for a while🥺

for my closer moots, i’m gonna combine these, so i’ll outline a fic trope/idea and the pairing will be who i ship you with! hopefully this won’t become an essay lol. warning: it does

i don’t want to leave anyone out, so for those of you that i’m not quite as close with or have met more recently, i’ll just give you a ship! i hope that’s okay🥺and if i’m still forgetting someone then i’m really really sorry, please let me know and i’ll make sure to add you next time!

read more cut because this is a looooot. open at your own risk and prepare for many many MANY blocks of text... also these are in alphabetical order by url!!

——ships + fics——

@astroboy-lele: a best friends to lovers au with chenle, no doubt about it. furou is one of my closest friends on here and our conversations are almost always chaotic, but when they aren’t, they’re full of love and appreciation for each other because she deserves it! major chenle vibes, they’re both so adorable too. her humor is great, all the jokes we have together make me absolutely wheeze oml. i really don’t know what i would do without her kindness sometimes, when i want to give up at something she’s so quick to reassure me. furou, thanks for encouraging me and for always being such a strong source of happiness🥺also, i hope you never doubt your amazing talents because they are a gift to this world!! but enough with the super deep stuff because this is way too long, so the plot would go something like this: you met one day when you heard him practicing piano in the band room by himself. you’re both shy at first so it’s a blush fest when he notices you’ve been listening to him play the whole time, but one not-so-awkward introduction later, you realize you have some things in common and that you share a class or two. you come over for study sessions & work together on partner projects, conversations lighthearted and full of endless laughter. in addition, you also show your support for each other’s talents and dreams, with him attending your dance performances and clapping louder than anyone else in the audience, and you attending his recitals, heart swelling with more pride and appreciation than you thought was possible. any time that you spend together usually ends with you asleep on his chest while he taps away at a piano app on his phone because he knows it calms you down, humming softly by your ear. as the sunlight streams in from his window and illuminates your face, he takes one look at you and decides that you’ve become so much more than just a best friend to him after everything you’ve been through together in such a short time. but will he ever find the courage to tell you how he feels?

@danishmiilk: i can’t really explain it, but i just picture late nights walking through city streets in a strangers to lovers au with doyoung by your side. xing-yi has a lot of love to give to others and so much to offer the writing community, and also she’s somewhat of a social butterfly, at least i think so! it makes me so happy seeing her interact with her moots and she always looks out for others! i also imagine that she has a cute bunny smile but also maybe not HAHA anyway i just love xing-yi a lot. here’s the fic: doyoung, the one who always seems to know everything, is forced to ask for directions in a foreign city. shamefully standing on the sidewalk, he stops you mid-step with a small hand gesture, because even though he doesn’t know you at all, you look like you probably won’t walk away or dismiss his questions with a shrug. being as friendly and willing to help as you are, you oblige. with an embarrassed scratch to the back of his neck, he admits that he might forget the sequence of lefts and rights you had given him, but you’re unfazed and simply offer to walk him there yourself, since it isn’t terribly far anyway. doyoung, lightly flustered since he’s not quite sure how to thank you for your trouble and feeling bad for taking the time out of your day, fumbles with asking for your number. he’s cute, you think, and before you part you insist on showing him around the city some more before he leaves, glancing at the sheepish but smitten man over your shoulder with a smile as you turn to walk back home, leaving him eager to see you again.

@daybreakx: my first thought was a hogwarts au with kun! ale’s talent in writing is a beautiful hidden gem on this site, and she truly deserves so much more recognition for it. i’m so grateful for how kind she is and i want the best for her and her work always! also, the love letter network that she created to help more writers receive love, feedback, and appreciation from readers is such a generous and selfless thing to do, it shows that she has such a caring heart! all of these qualities make me think of kun, and i chose a hogwarts au because i think she just writes those especially well and hers are some of my favorites! so for the fic: the fates are definitely not on your side today, because all the friends you made on the train ride to the castle have been sorted into different houses than you, not to mention you have almost no classes with any of them. at the same time, you seem to have every class with this one boy, kun. he’s in hufflepuff, the same house as you, and because you’re always paired up as seatmates, you find yourself warming up to him throughout the year. conversations become easier during projects, you start to have study sessions in the common room when exams come around, and as first-year students, you both love experiencing all the new and exciting things that the school and the magical world has to offer together. now, you couldn’t be happier that you were sorted into hufflepuff, because otherwise you might not have become friends (and maybe more..) with him!

@donkey-hyuck: vy is way more hilarious and talented than others give her credit for, and not to mention the way everyone adores her for always being so loving and showering them with her affection and support😭i’m thinking of a sci-fi au with jeno! she’s just so hardworking with her writing and on her collabs, & i think she’s strong-willed because she always pursues her goals no matter what! she has such a bright personality and also, like jeno’s her smile is just the CUTEST thing ever!!!! i will never be over it istg🥺fic: in a world full of new technology and controlled by a government unwilling to remember the past and all its traditions, a band of rebels come together and take it upon themselves to go back in time and discover what their reality used to look like long ago. one fateful day on their quest to uncover the mystery of the past, they stumble upon you, unaware of their cause but eager to join them. you take after one of the boys particularly well, lee jeno. though he’s assigned the role of warrior, he’s well-rounded and could easily succeed at any task the group may need him to complete. extremely passionate about the group’s goal, the two of you share a dedication that only brings you closer with time, working together and just being complete badasses. when you aren’t navigating through streets full of neon signs and angular buildings, you fall into the rhythm of a relationship. though you may not know much about each other’s pasts yet, one thing’s for sure: you can definitely see a future with one another.

@fairvtale: a soulmate au with jisung! i mean, keia is just the peak of cuteness, love, positivity, and everything sweet and nice!! how could i not ship her with the adorable park jisung himself😭she’s so full of compassion for everyone she meets and is so loved and appreciated for not only her great personality but also her talents! now, in this soulmate universe, you and your soulmate share the same preferences! so when you hear someone standing in line ahead of you at the ice cream shop order your favorite flavor, your heart skips a beat. of course, it’s not the first time it’s happened, but something feels different today. when you see who the voice belongs to, you just know that the tall but also shy boy is meant for you, and being brave, you approach the small two-person table he sits down at, making small talk until you both realize that you have a little too much in common for it to be a coincidence... :D <3

@ferie-anon: i’m picturing a bookstore au with shopkeeper!taeil, you just give off really insightful but also curious vibes!! both you and taeil make me think of wisdom(especially with your astrology knowledge! it amazes me so much omg), and also, you both have hearts of gold🥺💝fic: a new book shop opens up in your town, and eager to find a new story to dive into, you enter one day to find taeil behind the counter with a smile on his face that’s so bright you don’t even notice his smaller but adorable stature. he guides you, his first customer, through the rows of books to find one that interests you. since the store has multiple copies, he finds himself reading the same ones that you buy not only to enjoy them for himself, but also because it allows him to discuss them with you when you come in the next time, eager to hear each other’s thoughts and knowledge. your equal love for learning and discovery makes you a perfect match!

@flirtyhyuck: kitty is a literal ray of sunshine into my life, so who else would i ship him with than haechan? (i know i once said jaemin but shh) he is so encouraging, always makes me smile and my heart burst, i’m really thankful for all the times he checks in on me and i just feel very loved talking to him. he deserves all the love in the world, really and truly. for the au, maybe a strangers to lovers with barista!haechan! your favorite cafe has a new worker that’s attracting all the attention lately. haechan makes the funniest jokes and comments at the register, and everyone asks for him to ring them up just so they can laugh at his sarcasm. but he’s also so attentive to each and every customer, making sure the order is nothing short of perfect and exactly what they wanted. you always sit at one of the bar-style seats as you enjoy your favorite drink, legs dangling from the elevated chair as you watch him bustle about behind the cashier station and among the machines & supplies. one day it’s closing time, he’s cleaning up for the night but he lets you stay a few more minutes, something he wouldn’t do for anyone else. leaning over the marble countertop that your cup rests on, he swipes a fingertip through the whipped cream on top of your drink and lightly taps your nose with it, making you giggle endearingly at the ticklish sensation and giving him the courage to ask you out. with a smile, you agree. ‘sure, but let’s go somewhere other than a coffee shop, please.’

@fruityutas: emily (pt 1 HAHA) seriously cracks me up SO MUCH, not to mention she has one the best laughs i’ve heard and it’s super lovable haha. i don’t know what else to call it but i’d give her a wedding date(?) au with hendery! even when i didn’t know her very well and we had just recently met she was super friendly and inviting. for some reason i feel like hendery would also play the sims lol, anyway! onto the fic: when given the opportunity to bring a ‘plus one’ to a friend’s special day, your other friend hendery swoops in with an arm around your shoulder as you reread the invitation out loud, wondering who to ask. not so subtly, he offers to accompany you, and not wanting to be the only one without a guest, you agree to his proposal (no pun intended). dressed in your best formalwear and with stiffly linked arms, you navigate through the ceremony, only loosening up a bit at the reception. hendery is determined to make you smile with his exaggerated dancing, twirling you and making you more than glad you brought him along. you do get a few comments from other guests on what a ‘cute couple’ you are, leading you both to exchange glances before bursting into laughter. it starts to become less and less implausible, though. you catch hendery’s eye right after you find the bride’s flower bouquet in your grasp, suddenly realizing there could be more between you than you realized...

@jenojam: i was totally not influenced by your preschool series at all haha, but a preschool au with teacher!kun comes to mind! vina is always there for me, she’s so caring and attentive to everything i tell her!! i get mom friend vibes i guess, she’s just so sweet and i feel super loved and cared for whenever we interact, i’m really grateful for her endless support🥺for the fic, kun is a coworker of yours at the preschool you teach at. you both have such a strong passion for teaching and it helps you bond, leading to many days spent side-by-side, fondly watching your students play with their friends at recess or do activities and play games in class. even the small children in your class can see how much wider you smile when you’re in the same room. with the sweetest and most innocent of intentions, shenanigans ensue of your well-meaning but slightly mischievous students trying to get kun to confess to you, whether it be by writing a message in sidewalk chalk or making a bracelet out of craft beads for him to give you.

@jisungsmochi: hm, i’m thinking...a high school/college au with theatre kid!xiaojun🥺i ship nat with xiaojun because she’s just the sweetest, she has a hidden chaotic side (imo lol) and just a great sense of humor as well! she’s so fun to talk to and you can’t help but love her🥺picture this: you’re both in english class together, and one day there’s a mix-up. he accidentally grabs your essay and you end up with his script for the school musical. you have no choice but to go to one of his rehearsals to swap them back, but as you’re standing in the doorway, you’re captivated by his performance! little do you know, he’s absolutely in awe of your writing, even in a simple literature paper. your admiration for each other’s talents leads to you sitting in the back of the theater doing your homework every day after school, listening to his voice ring out across the large room, and he gets a confidence boost knowing you’re there watching him act, dance, and sing. he always winks at you from onstage and you’re beyond starstruck every time, your english paper quickly becoming forgotten as soon as he meets your eyes with a charming smile.

@lebrookestore: well, a royal au with prince!/childhood friend!taeyong comes to mind. brooke is a lot like taeyong because she’s so considerate and generous but also can be very professional and calm when she needs to be! (i think i told you already but you have this ~duality~ in a way, like ty haha.) so..you both grow up in the castle, scampering away from the staff in the large hallways and just enjoying the excitement of life. one day when you’re a bit older, you come across a stranger in the forest as you’re exploring. they turn out to be from the next kingdom over, but something about them is familiar: you’re sure you’ve seen a ‘wanted’ poster with their face plastered on it. you manage to warn taeyong in his ear before you hear the stranger’s footsteps speed up, and you both start sprinting as fast as possible. quickly working together since you know each other so well, you devise a plan to get them caught in a tangle of vines you remember seeing on your way into the forest, so you can bring back reinforcements to arrest the dangerous criminal. it works, but instead of turning to give taeyong a high five in celebration, he’s already in front of you and thanking you for your quick thinking with a hug, suddenly realizing that how much he loves you after seeing your brave and clever side emerge, just two of the many traits that made you win his heart.

@navyhyuck: vee’s name has basically become synonymous with happiness at this point, hearing from her in my inbox/messages or seeing a post/work of hers on my dash is so comforting and makes me smile more than she knows. since she’s the epitome of sweetness, i’ll say a bakery au with jaemin! i really appreciate knowing someone like her, and the encouragement she gives me is so heartwarming🥺the way she sends asks in the mornings makes me feel so ridiculously loved and at ease, her presence in itself is a gift to this site. tumblr really doesn’t deserve her!! i’m so happy that we’ve grown close and i don’t know what i would do without her and her kindness in my life. fic: you sign up for a baking class at a quaint, local pastry shop to learn how to make desserts and treats, since baking was a hobby you had enjoyed as a child with your family and now you hoped to learn how to do it on your own. little did you know that your instructor would be even more saccharine than the sugary treats you were making. his flirtatious nature leads to many mishaps in the kitchen as you get distracted while trying to follow along with the simple directions, instead making a mess of the icing and sprinkles and nearly confusing the measurements of ingredients. he finds it adorable, though, and towards the end of the session he sneaks a bite of one of the french macarons you put together, a bright smile lighting up his features as he compliments you on it. he teases you by reminding you to pay more attention next time, and with a comeback so quick that even you’re surprised, you take him up on that offer, implying that you’d be back for another class soon. “good. we’re making crème brûlée next week,” he informs with a wink as you both part ways. boy, was he sweeter than sugar.

@orange-nimon-cross: yunha deserves someone who knows the true her and has always been by her side, so i’d say a neighbor/boy next door au with winwin/sicheng. her personality is unique and complex like sicheng’s, and like him i also admire her for lots of reasons, such as her honesty and the pride she takes in writing as well as her passion for it in general. she’s very sweet, so supportive whenever i need it, and deserves so much more recognition for her beautiful work!!💕fic: your neighborhood holds a classic and oh-so-cliche summer block party every year, the smell of smoke and sounds of laughter moving through the air and into your open window. when a bad day gets you down and you hesitate to join in the festivities, sicheng is the only one who can get through to you, not forcing you to talk about anything and just sitting beside you on your bed in silence, which seems to be the most comforting thing anyone can do at the moment. when you tell him you’re ready(which he asks you to confirm many times, because that’s just how much he cares about you and wants you to be fully comfortable and okay), he takes your hand and leads you outside and onto the burning asphalt of the street with other friends and families, the blissful feeling of summer putting you at ease and the gentle evening breeze carrying away your cares with it. and like a springtime flower, although one season late, your relationship begins to blossom into one full of even more love and consideration for each other than it was before.

@radiorenjun: a doctor au with renjun! angie is slightly (okay, very) chaotic but also very lovable!! i don’t know if she’s an aries but she gives off serious aries energy. she’s confident and optimistic and really approachable! i’m so happy she reached out to me one day and we became friends from there🥺in the fic, renjun is a resident at your hospital studying under you and learning the ropes of being a doctor. when you first met each other, you actually mistook him for a coworker with how professional he seemed, but the confusion made a small, adorable blush rise to his cheeks. shy and timid at first, he takes notes and helps you do your job without complaint. when you offer part of your routine to him, he gratefully accepts and does the task perfectly, growing more comfortable in his position and relationship with you as he receives more opportunities to show his skill. sharing stories and experiences from medical school on your lunch breaks and smiling when you finish each other’s sentences about patients and their prescribed care, you realize that you’ve fallen for the soon-to-be doctor, and that no stethoscope could possibly measure the beating of your heart around him.

@rouiyan: so you know how you said you were excited for my wip that’s a strangers to lovers au with animal shelter worker!jeno? that’s what this is(loosely anyway)!!🥺ree reminds me of jeno in the fact that she’s such a sweetheart in every interaction with anyone, it feels like you’ve been her friend for ages! and then you look at her writing that’s just so damn good and sophisticated and i’m always so amazed with everything she puts out, just like how jeno’s talents amaze me as well! now for the fic: your beloved dog runs off in the park, but luckily a boy walking nearby lunges for the leash as it drags behind the animal. you thank him repeatedly, and he explains that the little puppy might have tried to leave your grasp only because she wants to make a new friend. the park is full of other dogs, after all. he mentions that he works at the shelter nearby and suggests that maybe you should adopt a second one to keep her company. not seeing any reason why you shouldn’t, you meet him the next day and spend time together picking out a new puppy. many more days are spent giving the fluffy little animals lots of pets and scratches behind the ears, and playing with them. you’re not sure what’s cuter: the dogs, or jeno’s eye smile.

@ru-lin: (the fic was kinda inspired by what you told me about your job in our messages the other day hehe) i’d say a christmas au with mark! ruth is so considerate and a pleasure to talk to, we actually have a lot in common! she’s very warm and caring and always looking out for others. i can tell she really values her friends and they’re so lucky to have her, she’s just so sweet all around! talking to her makes my day a lot brighter whenever we interact🥺fic: during the holidays you always work at a christmas market, helping customers pick out pretty much anything they could ever want that’s associated with the chilly month and all its festivities. when a shy boy that’s adorably awkward and clumsy stumbles into the shopping area, you bite back a small laugh at his endearing hesitation to ask for assistance. speaking up first, you ask if there’s anything he needs and he explains that he’s looking for the perfect tree. with a knowing smile, you lead him down the rows of tall pines and firs and any kind of christmas tree you could possibly imagine. when his eyes land on one that he likes, his eyes light up with excitement, and you help him load it into his car. as mark is halfway home he curses, realizing he forgot to pick up a wreath as well. he knows it’ll earn him a playful scolding from his group of friends, but if it means another chance to return to the market and see you, it’s worth it.

@rvse-hvvck: i feel like i ship so many people with jaemin but it’s just because they’re so especially full of kindness and love for others, and ana is no exception! i’d give her a matchmaker au with jaemin! ana is so incredibly selfless and her heart is so compassionate, it’s crazy. i really look up to her in a lot of ways! the first impression she made on me was already a great one because i saw so many writers receiving her beautiful love letters, and from that moment alone i could already tell how much she strives to be kind and generous in everything she says and does. i hope she knows how much everyone truly adores her and is grateful for her, because she really makes the world a better and brighter place. (if you’ve seen the movie clueless i guess this fic is sorta similar!) so, you’re the resident expert on relationships among your school community, always trying to pair up people with similar interests or that have a lot of chemistry together. it brings you joy because you love seeing your friends laughing and smiling with their partners, but you feel a twinge of sadness at the same time. when jaemin, the boy you’ve liked for a while, comes to you for advice, you push down your feelings for him and send him on dates with anyone you can think of. the whole time though, he’s only had his eyes on you. he has always admired your altruism and your dedication to making others happy. it hurts him to see that you’re not even giving yourself a chance, so with a simple but heartfelt confession in the school parking lot at sunset, he helps you realize that you deserve a love like you’ve helped so many others find.

@sly-merlin: talking to simmi is always something very healing (like yuta’s smile hehe) so i’d definitely give her a secret agent/spy au with partner!yuta! she is so friendly to anyone and everyone, she gives off this warm and loving vibe like that of an old friend🥺she’s also extremely dedicated to her studies and works so hard. everyone adores her, and seeing her talk about things that make her happy is just the cutest thing ever! simmi, you truly have everyone’s heart!! now for the fic: you and yuta are both spies, partnered up for a very important and serious mission. only problem is, he’s never been the serious type. he teases you for being so uptight, but you genuinely don’t know any other way to approach a mission. along the way though, he manages to teach you how to have a little fun with your job, even if it means lots of close calls and sticky situations that force you both to begrudgingly (well, you more so than him) pretend you’re an oblivious couple in order to escape suspicious eyes. eventually, you find yourself becoming less and less unwilling to throw a casual arm around his shoulder, even when you aren’t at risk of being caught on your mission. maybe he isn’t so bad after all... :)

@suhpressed: a strangers to lovers au with theatre usher!johnny. so you know how johnny’s like an older brother to mark? i get major comforting and warm big sis vibes from elaida!! i would ship her with johnny because they’re both such selfless and caring people! she’s not afraid to speak her mind, and she always looks out for others with kindness and encouragement! as for the fic: you’re finally attending a broadway show you’ve been dying to see since, well, forever. this really cute usher helps you find your seat, but in a rare stroke of clumsiness, he bumps someone with a glass of wine in their hand that ends up staining your blouse a dark red. like the gentleman johnny (you can see it on his nametag) is, he promises to buy you a new one, and writes his phone number on the show’s program. you enjoy the musical, but the digits scribbled down next to the performers’ names prove to be more distracting than you anticipated. throughout the show you’re really jittery, excited to get back home so you can text him. in addition to replacing your ruined shirt, he also invites you out for coffee over the phone, you agree, and you both hit it off. the rest is history! the way that you met becomes a favorite story among your friends and families, & they never miss a chance to tease you two about spilling drinks.

@tyongxnct: elida, where do i begin🥺right away, i think of an idol au with taeyong. she is just so caring and supportive, she likes or comments on my posts and can make me smile with just a few words!! i remember one time that she said she was lucky to have me as a moot and it really warmed my heart, i’m so so lucky to have her too! i can tell she’s passionate about writing and that it brings her so much joy! i wish her only the best in life always <3 in the fic: during a tour, nct 127 stops in your country for a few nights of concerts, and in the midst of the excitement on the way back from the venue, taeyong gets separated from the rest. in an unfamiliar environment, he begins to panic as he remembers that he left his phone on the tour bus and has no way to contact his manager or fellow members. you, while familiar with and respectful of the group but not an avid follower of their music, catch sight of the lost and more than frazzled man as he frantically paces along the sidewalk, trying to recall his surroundings when he exited the bus hours ago. had it not been for your observant gaze, you may have missed the small group logo on his white shirt, letting you know who he was. determined to ease his obvious nerves by helping him find his way back, you lend a hand by approaching him and asking what he remembers. despite only being given a few details, you know the area he describes, quickly leading him there and reuniting him with the rest of the group. more than grateful, he offers you a ticket to the last show there, and hopes that it won’t be the last time he sees you.

@yo-ddream: a childhood best friends to lovers au with jungwoo! emily (pt 2/granny okay sorry i’m done) also feels like somewhat of an older sister to me, she gives great advice and always seems to have a story to tell from her working adventures lol. she’s very witty and extremely kind!! i guess i get jungwoo vibes because at first she seems quiet, but once you get to know her and she opens up a bit you see her fun personality and humor shine through when you talk to her :) she’s also honest about what she thinks and doesn’t sugarcoat it, something that’s very much needed in a person! okay, onto the fic: you and jungwoo grew up in the same neighborhood, going to the same school, getting your first part-time jobs at same store a few blocks down from your street. your lives have been intertwined from the start, but when a family matter pops up, it threatens his place by your side in almost everything you do and puts your friendship and undisclosed feelings for each other at risk. both working up the courage to confess as time ticks down and it gets closer to the day he’s meant to move away, you spend every moment with each other enjoying life’s little moments, the simple things like watching the sunset on a park bench or taking a walk down the sidewalk of the town shopping center. in an extremely convenient stroke of luck, he gets word that things have been sorted out, and the move is off. in both of your delight at the news, you feel like nothing can stop you. you blurt out the same three words at the same time before launching your arms around one another. if it’s you and jungwoo against the world, so be it, because not even the universe had the heart to separate the bond between you.

@zzzzzcakes: zel🥺she’s always been super supportive of me and my work, i’m happy she left feedback on a fic of mine because i might not have reached out to express my gratitude for her words and gotten to know her otherwise! she’s very kind and positive, and seeing her posts and reblogs make me laugh all the time :D i’d say a grocery store au with sungchan. (hear me out i know you must be going ‘huh?’ but trust me on this one! in that recent post you made you said something about shopping carts, and it made me think...see where this is going? haha ANYWAY!) so sungchan is the newest employee at the supermarket where you work. he’s the go-to person to call when someone can’t reach an item on one of the highest shelves, earning bewildered stares from customers and coworkers alike. he always has a joke up his sleeve or a clever remark to make about the many challenges of working in retail. you take a liking to him for how down-to-earth he is and despite all the occasional sarcasm coming from him when you’re both in the break room, he’s very helpful whenever he’s needed. he also admires how focused you are on the job, ringing up endless items and bagging groceries until your hands hurt. whenever he strides down an aisle near the register you’re working at that day, he doesn’t hesitate to send a wave and an endearing grin your way. it’s the moments like that with him that get you through your shift and keep you going. it’s no surprise when you reveal to the rest of the staff that you’re dating. of course, the perks of being employees mean that you can spend many late nights racing each other in shopping carts at the back of the store near closing time and other mischievous activities of the sort, laughing when your manager scolds you over the loudspeaker system without a care in the world.

——ships——

@badwithten: zoe is someone full of both humor and heart, a combination that immediately reminds me of lucas, so i’d 100% ship her with him! she’s given me really good advice and encouragement to stay true to myself, something i can also see lucas doing, and i’m very grateful for her wise words :) and like i said, her heart is full of love and she’s so kind to everyone!

@bucchinct: i’m not sure if we’ve ever interacted, but i always see your posts on my dash and you reblog so many artistic and pretty things/pictures, which makes me think of jaemin and his hobby of photography! so i would ship you with him ^_^

@du0tine: i’d ship solange with ten, for a number of reasons! one, the fact that she mountain climbs for a living and is so dedicated to/passionate about it is something extremely admirable and amazing, so she comes across as very brave and adventurous! also, she’s not afraid to tell others her opinions and that honesty is really refreshing to see! and her blog themes are super artistic which reminds me of ten as well. she just seems like a great person in general and i hope to get to know her more!

@ethaeriyeol: i haven’t really talked to bea much, but i know she is good friends with a few of my other moots so i think that says something about the kind of person she is! i would ship her with jaehyun, she seems really professional (and lowkey intimidating but you didn’t hear it from me) but also very sweet and welcoming and i imagine they both have the cutest smiles, with or without dimples, hehe.

@euphoricdreamies: i’d ship maddy with chenle! she has such a great sense of humor and it’s so much fun to read about her oc’s, i love keeping up with the plots! i’ve followed her for a while but we just recently started talking, she’s very friendly🥺maddy’s just been nothing but nice to me, and i feel like she has a sarcastic and witty side. also, she deserves so much more recognition for her talent and i think everyone deserves to read her amazing work!

@felixn-recs: it’s been a while since i talked to you, but i’m really thankful that you left some of the first feedback i ever received on my writing! i know for a fact that authors really appreciate you and the kind feedback/support that you show their works. this eagerness to show writers your encouragement and praise makes me think of mark for sure, so i would ship you with him!

@fullsuhnny: angelina seems like the type to be somewhat reserved, but still very generous and selfless towards others, reminding me of kun! when she interacts with people she’s humble and sweet, and i enjoy seeing her reblogs pop up on my dash. i think she’s a wonderful friend to everyone and i hope to become closer with her in the future! also, her blog theme is so cool and aesthetic hehe :D

@gowonhatesyou: renjun all the way, krystal always makes me and others laugh so much with her humor and her entertaining personality. but at the same time, while she can be chaotic and sarcastic, she’s also extremely loving and sociable. i can tell she cares a lot about those around her and wants only the best for them! i really value her friendship🥺

@heartyyjeno: i’d ship alesha with jaemin, she’s so much like him to me. first of all, because she would do anything to make her friends smile or brighten their day! she has a warm personality that makes others feel very loved. she’s also very determined and perseverant, because when things get tough she doesn’t give up and continues to pursue her dreams and do what she loves, even when it may be difficult. i’m positive that everyone she knows appreciates having her and her endless kindness in their life! <3

@injunified: nathalie is really sweet and generous, and i’m really happy that she’s started posting more of her works recently, they definitely deserve all the recognition that they’re getting and more!! i don’t know her super well but she’s a great friend to have, so I’d ship her with winwin/sicheng! i hope she can continue writing because she definitely has a lot of talent for it🥺

@jaeminscoffee: lyra is very warm, friendly, and she was eager to get to know me when we first met, so i would ship her with johnny! i really enjoy talking to her, and she’s also very down-to-earth! she never hesitates to show her appreciation for her friends and followers, and i really look up to her for it🥺

@lovelygalaxy333: lilly is so so lovable and sweet, i would definitely ship her with shotaro! my heart literally threatens to explode whenever i talk to her, and she reblogs the cutest, kindest things! like shotaro, i just wanna protect her because she’s such a special soul and also very positive! even if she just sends a simple ‘hello’ in my inbox from time to time, it puts the biggest smile on my face and i’m so grateful for her!

@meraki-mark: li is very humble and friendly, so i would ship her with xiaojun! she also seems somewhat quiet and calm to me, i was almost intimidated when we first interacted haha. something i admire about her is that i believe she’s the kind of person to truly be dedicated to writing what she wants and not just for the sake of notes! that kind of commitment is really nice to see :)

@minyusa: whenever i see miku on my dash, she always seems to be showing her support for a work or conversing with a friend. she’s there to lend some encouragement and sweet words to those that need it! her good-nature and pure thoughtfulness reminds me of jeno. she’s so nice to talk to and deserves love, no questions asked! you’re a very genuine and warm-hearted person, so i’d ship you with him~ （＾ν＾）

@moonlightjeno: we don’t know each other very well but just from looking at luna’s writing, i think the types of fics and aus she writes are very diverse and unique! her well-rounded work makes me think of haechan, so i’ll ship her with him! i believe we have some of the same moots so she seems very kind and social as well!

@neonun-au: okay, maybe it’s because ‘multitudes’ has been on my mind ever since i read it but my first thought was to ship mads with taeil! her writing is so elegant and beautiful, i’m so glad her work gets all the recognition that it does! as silly as it sounds for me to say, even her sh*tposts seem sophisticated for some reason hahaha. she’s just so sweet, talented and always so gracious!

@peachjaem00: lou comes across as very laidback and charming, two things that remind me of yangyang! she’s a pleasure to interact with, and i feel like she has a lot of friends, i mean, who wouldn’t want someone like her in their life? she’s such a supportive and inviting person by nature, and i can tell she works hard and puts so much effort into her writing because it’s so good!!

@prettyjaems: i believe i said it once before so pardon the repetition, but whenever i interact with mona i feel loved and cared for like nobody’s business😭which immediately makes jaemin come to mind. she doesn’t hesitate to show kindness to anyone and everyone, but also has a quiet and focused side at times, and i think as a person, she has so many great qualities that balance out and make up her considerate personality! she’s also really motivated and organized with her writing, i hope to learn a thing or two from those work habits of hers :)

@rueyins: one fateful day when i was craving some good old interaction, rue reached out to me just to say hello and ask how i was doing, something that makes me think of taeyong! i really love how caring she is towards everyone she knows, and also her music taste is great, which also makes me think of taeyong, haha🥺the way she looks out for others is such a special quality to have, i’m so glad we’ve become friends!!

@vitamarkie: i would ship kay with mark! i see her interact with her moots a lot, and she just seems very loved all around by everyone that knows her! also, she writes the softest, prettiest, fluffiest stories, and for some reason i think of the fact that mark once said he wanted be an author when he grew up. her skills are seriously amazing and, just like i admire mark for his talent, i admire kay a lot for hers!

@whathamelon: hmm you have a good sense of humor and also seem very friendly because we have some of the same moots! you’re also not shy about showing appreciation to your favorite fics and authors, so i would ship you with johnny!

@yunwoo: i feel like anna is on the soft-spoken, quieter side but still very very sweet, so i would ship her with jisung! she’s really lovable and so comforting to talk to, even though we don’t know each other too well yet. just from her blog she seems so adorable and i want to hug her and talk to her more🥺also her aesthetic is the softest thing EVER i love it so much!!😭

#hannah’s end of the year appreciation post!#please feel free to write any of these because there’s no way i’d ever have the time to do so lmao #hannah ships her moots #moonbeamsung’s mutuals #i love you and thank you all!#terrified that since this is so long tumblr’s gonna find a way to mess it up aaaa #nervous to ping everyone as well but here we go! hehe #anon ୭̥⋆*｡#it’s literally going on two weeks since you sent this i am so very sorry omg🥲

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himikiyo · 3 years ago

Text

i’ve been on my lonely // himikiyo week day 5

Himikiyo Week Day 5: Skirt + Lipstick

“This kind of meddling is rather unlike you,” Kirumi remarked that evening. “Setting them up on a date?"

After seeing Korekiyo and Himiko dance around each other for so long, Rantaro takes things into his own hands.

Read on AO3, DRA, or under the cut.

It was that time of year again. The season of parties, reunions, and all manner of other Danganronpa events. They existed all year long for those who wished to embrace their celebrity status, of course, but even the disinterested among them were dragged into the lead up to a new season. Season 53 was one of the biggest hits in a generation.

Without really meaning to, Rantaro had fallen into the role of the group’s big brother figure. Ironic, considering his utter failure at it in his fictional backstory. He liked helping his friends though, found more fulfillment in that than working on his own problems. He didn’t get much time to bond with anyone during the killing game, but he’d more than made up for it.

At the moment, he was in the hotel room of one Yumeno Himiko. One of the most resentful of the fame bestowed on all of them, she always required a little extra encouragement in the days before big events. That...wasn’t always because of Team Danganronpa though.

“It’s okay to feel anxious about seeing them,” Rantaro said, summoning every bit of patient encouragement in his possession. “Or even to be looking forward to it. Other people’s grudges don’t need to affect what you do, you know.”

“It’s not like that!” she exclaimed, sounding downright panicked. The blush spreading across her face told a different story, along with the soft-looking plushie she was absentmindedly hugging. Even at a glance, the long, dark hair and green uniform were unmistakable. It was the official Shinguuji Korekiyo plush from the DR53 line. It had been one of the lower sellers, compared to others like Ouma or Saihara who were sold out for months. Himiko’s copy was clearly well-loved though, if she even went to the effort of bringing it along to a hotel.

“Are you sure?” He raised an eyebrow, letting his gaze drop to the plushie to tell her he noticed it.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Himiko argued back stubbornly. “It’s just something soft to hug. Theirs was on sale. It’s not like I kiss its forehead and tuck it into bed or something.”

“Mhm.” She definitely did exactly that. “Well, if you don’t care at all about seeing Shinguuji, I guess there’s no need to talk about it anymore, right?”

“Right. No need.”

“On another topic then, I know a good restaurant nearby. We could head over there for dinner tonight if you don’t have plans with anyone else.”

“Sure.” She perked up some then, plushie still securely in her arms. “That’d be good.”

“Then shall we meet in the park at 7:00?”

---

After leaving Himiko’s hotel room, Rantaro didn’t return to his own. No, he had another friend to pay a visit to.

“Amami-kun, what brings you here? I don’t recall making plans with anyone.” Korekiyo tilted their head in curiosity, hand coming up to cover their unmasked face. It seemed a subconscious gesture, a lingering instinct to keep from being seen. Himiko would surely know more about that than Rantaro though. He’d caught her looking at photos and tabloid articles about them more than once.

“Oh, no, we didn’t have any plans,” he said, chuckling softly. “I apologize for catching you off-guard, Shinguuji-san. In fact, I came here to find out if you’d be interested in making some.”

“Making plans with you? Ah, well, it’s kind of you to offer, but...”

“Hoping for someone else?” he asked. Just as predicted, Korekiyo’s eyes widened, a clear sign of someone whose true feelings had been discovered.

“I wouldn’t dream of being so rude,” they demurred. “It isn’t as though I have people lining up to spend time with me these days, yes? I should accept invitations as they come.”

“If you’re sure. I happen to know Himiko’s room number if you’d prefer to ask her.”

“I...it’s not like that. Even if I did wish to invite Yumeno-san out, she wants nothing to do with me. The same is true of most of our group.”

“Then do you want to grab dinner tonight? I know a great place nearby. We could meet in the park at 7:00?”

“That...would be acceptable. Thank you, Amami-kun.”

---

“This kind of meddling is rather unlike you,” Kirumi remarked that evening. “Setting them up on a date? That seems more like something Kaede might do.”

“Maybe I’m learning from her,” Rantaro said with a laugh. “It’s about time those two sort out their differences. They can claim to be at odds all they want, but they’re the only people who really believe they’re enemies. Well, maybe Chabashira-san too, but that’s more wishful thinking than anything else.”

“Here’s hoping it works out.” Offering him a mischievous grin from over the rim of her teacup, she added, “I owe Ouma-kun some money if they don’t get together by the end of the year, and it’s already fall.”

“I don’t think you have to worry.”

---

Where the hell was Rantaro? Himiko had arrived at the park right on time, but there was no sign of him anywhere. It wasn’t like him to be late or stand people up — not without a serious reason to do so. The park was relatively small, so it didn’t seem likely that she could have simply missed him.

Just as she was debating whether she should try to text him and ask where he was, she caught sight of someone out of the corner of her eye. Even before she turned her head to look though, she could tell that it wasn’t him. This figure was taller and didn’t radiate his relaxed confidence in the least.

Korekiyo? An unmasked Korekiyo at that. She still wasn’t used to them being more lax about face coverings these days.

“Oh, um, Shinguuji. What a coincidence seeing you here.” Her voice sounded forced and awkward even to herself. She wished the ground would just swallow her up and save her from needing to interact with them, but no amount of wishing would make that dream come true. The world seemed dead set on reminding her of her (unfortunate, tragic, hopeless) crush at every possible opportunity.

“There are no accidents in this world,” they replied, sounding ominous as usual. “And in any case, it shouldn’t be that surprising, yes? Seeing someone at a park mere moments from the hotel where you’re both staying isn’t a terribly unlikely thing to occur.”

“Well, yeah, I guess so. It doesn’t really matter, I was just making conversation or something.” Her voice trailed off more and more until it was barely a half-whispered mutter, any semblance of confidence stomped out by embarrassment. “Anyway, uh, I’m actually supposed to be meeting Rantaro here to go to dinner together. Have you seen him?”

“You’re supposed to be meeting with Amami-kun?”

“Is there something weird about that?” It was a defensive question, one that slipped out before she was able to stop herself. Surely Rantaro never let any of her secrets slip, right? There was no way Korekiyo could know what kinds of things she said about them to Rantaro.

“As a matter of fact, yes, there is something weird. I’m supposed to be meeting him for dinner too.”

“What?”

Instinctively, she glanced around looking for cameras or anything else that might hint at this being some kind of staged interaction. She wouldn’t put it past some of the entertainment industry to spring something like that on her unannounced. However, there was nothing, nor did she really think Korekiyo would play along with something like that. Of their group, they were one of the most resentful about what they’d been through. Understandably so.

“I was asked to meet him here at 7:00,” they said, briefly pulling out their phone to confirm the time again. “It seems Amami-kun may have double booked himself.”

“Why would he do that?” Himiko wondered aloud. “It isn’t like him to be so careless.”

“Ah, you two are close then? I did notice that you’re on a first name basis.” Kiyo gave her a placid look, fixing their already perfect hair. God, they really were unfairly pretty. So much so that she felt a pang of jealousy at the realization that anyone could look over and see exactly what she was seeing right now.

“No, not really.” They were wearing black lipstick instead of their usual red, and the striking green of their eyeshadow made their amber color even brighter than usual. “We’re friends, but I don’t know if I’d say we’re close. It’s pretty casual.”

“I see. I am not close to him either. In fact, I was rather surprised by his invitation today. If he decided to back out, it wouldn’t be much of a shock. I’m much less convinced he would do something like that to you though.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why are we so different?” Their outfit was gorgeous too, almost all black but no less intriguing for the lack of variety. Her eyes couldn’t help but trace the lines of their slightly too long sleeves (impressive, given how lanky they were) and flowy skirt.

“You know exactly why. I don’t think I need to give you a refresher course on that, Yumeno-san.”

She just sighed, not sure what she was meant to say in response to that.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter what you think about it. Likely or not, he’s standing both of us up.”

“Unless...” The word was spoken so softly that Himiko wasn’t sure she was meant to hear it. Did they have some other idea about what could be going on?

Clearing their throat briefly, Kiyo continued. “If Amami-kun does turn out to be a no show...I suppose we could still go to the restaurant he chose. Together. If that’s something you’d be interested in.”

“Yeah.” She smiled softly, thinking of the Kiyo plushie snuggled up safe and sound in her hotel room. Could...this have been Rantaro’s plan all along? She still had her doubts about whether Kiyo returned her feelings, but they were asking her to dinner. “We could do that.”

---

By the time they’d been seated in a cozy, dimly lit corner, it was abundantly clear that the restaurant was a romantic one, meant to cater to couples on dates. If it hadn’t already been obvious that the whole situation was some sort of set up on Rantaro’s part, that would have cemented it. He wanted them to go on a date.

She was afraid of getting her hopes up.

“Seems like a nice place,” she remarked, fiddling with the edge of her menu. Aside from the quiet background noise of other patrons talking and soft music, the quiet at their table was deafening. Not much conversation happened on the walk over either, mainly small talk about their day to day lives and those of their fellow alumni.

“Yes, it does,” Kiyo echoed. “Not the sort of establishment I would have pegged Amami-kun as frequenting.” She wondered if they were nervous or if she was just imagining the signs of tension. The stiff slope of their shoulders, the tenuous edge to their voice...

“Yeah, maybe not his type of place. Does that mean it’s yours?”

“It could be. There’s beauty in things like this, even if I’ve grown somewhat disillusioned with humanity as a whole.”

“And...is anything else here your type?” The instant the words escaped her mouth, she felt mortified. A moment’s bravery had been enough to say something like that? It was all she could do not to slink down in shame, face hot as she took a sip of water. “Um, never mind actually, that was a silly question.”

“No, I don’t believe it was. There is something else here that’s my type, believe it or not.” The mood lighting made it difficult to tell for sure, despite the lack of their usual mask, but it seemed like they could have been blushing.

“Really? And are you going to tell me what?”

“I wonder,” they said, lips curving into a smile. “Do you have any suspicions?”

“I might. If I’m right about why Rantaro planned all this out, then that doesn’t leave too many options.” She was far from an expert at the art of flirtation, but she suspected the same might be true of them. As suave as they often managed to seem in the past, it was a facade, part of the character Team Danganronpa created for them. Or perhaps not even that. Even for the ‘ideal’ Korekiyo, the one that only ever existed on paper, that confidence wasn’t so genuine. Not to the extent of really being able to open up and be vulnerable.

It wasn’t the time to make herself sad thinking of what they had to go through. If they saw any accidental hints of pity in her eyes, it could ruin everything. All she could do was try her best at chasing after what she really wanted.

“Care to share your deductions, then?” Was it intentional, the way their hand was sliding closer to her along the table? They’d never been one to take the prospect of physical contact lightly.

“I’m no detective,” she said, needing to suppress a shiver when their fingertips just barely grazed her own. Their nail polish was black too, matching their lipstick. No rings of the sort Rantaro still tended to wear, but she had a feeling they’d suit them. Any kind of jewelry would be lucky to adorn them.

“I don’t believe you need to be. In fact, I’d say the answer is quite obvious.”

Himiko chuckled. Their fingers were tangling together in earnest now, unmistakable as anything but what it was — holding hands.

“I know everyone kind of pushes us to keep up certain appearances. The media, the fans...even our friends, whether they mean to or not. They expect things,” she said softly. It was why it didn’t take her long after the end of the killing game to figure out that she shouldn’t talk about Kiyo too much, or with anyone who couldn’t keep a secret. The others found her interest strange, even repulsive. They were supposed to be enemies, forced into that box largely by people who didn’t have anyone’s best interests at heart.

“Yes, they do,” Kiyo agreed. Rather than launching into a long, anthropology-tinted lecture as they might have been prone to doing in the past, they seemed content to simply listen and reflect on what she had to say, allowing her to talk and draw conclusions on her own.

“Not many people would be happy about the idea of us getting closer, but...” She glanced down at the table, at how nicely their hands fit together. There in the corner, none of the other people in the restaurant had noticed who they were. Danganronpa fans were everywhere, but that didn’t mean it was impossible to steal moments of peace.

“But you’re tired of organizing your life around what other people think, yes? And Amami-kun for one, though I can’t claim to know him on a very deep level, seems supportive. I would go as far as saying enthusiastic. I can’t recall anyone else attempting to pry about my romantic life.” They paused, then clarified, “Not with benign intentions, that is.”

“So you’d be interested in it too? Getting to know each other better instead of always acting like we’re still enemies?”

“I never considered you my enemy in the first place, Yumeno-san. I would be honored to be given that chance.”

There was no doubt those words were genuine. For someone who slipped so easily into the role of villain, Kiyo was remarkably free of malice towards...anyone, really, save for some Team Danganronpa higher ups.

“Then I guess we could even call this a date.”

Still clasping her hand, they lifted it just enough to brush a kiss over the back of it, leaving a barely noticeable smudge behind.

“That we could.”

#himikiyo #himikiyoweek2021 #himiko yumeno #korekiyo shinguji #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #drv3

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scoupsy-remade · 4 years ago

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For this gif tutorial I’m going to try to keep it as basic as possible, I may add a few tips for coloring at the end, but for the most part this is going to be how I make my basic gif. Also I’m not going to use my vapoursynth to process the video beforehand, just because I know not everyone uses it and it’s harder to learn. This is going to be just a downloaded mp4 video through the gif process. Don’t let the idea that this is a BASIC TUTORIAL fool you, I’m going to try to teach you a lot of things. It’s gonna get wordy, but i will try my hardest to keep the process easy. I’m just going to explain what things do instead of having you just copy + paste my method and not know what it means. okay? okay.

Before we start though, if you plan of giffing live stages you either need to accept the they will not be super crisp and clear OR learn how to use avisynth/vapoursynth to resize the videos without quality loss.

If you just want to gif music videos or variety shows then this should still give you HQ gifs.

Other notes:

try to ONLY use 1080p and up video if possible, maybe 720p if you’re really desperate, but anything under that... it’s not going to look good at all, so try to avoid using them.

The Photoshop I am using is PS 2020, so all my screenshots will be from that version and with my weird set up. But I’ve been using pretty much the same method since cc 2015 so other than the fact that some placements and names are tweaked, it’s the same. (If you can’t find something on your version shoot me an ask and I’ll try to help! And asks I get on this tutorial I’ll link HERE for future reference)

CUTTING VIDEO

To cut videos I’ll just use my quicktime player.

I use edit > trim to select the portion of the video I plan to gif and save that as it’s own new mov file.

which pops up this tab

that you just slide until the part you want to gif is selected

then just save it as a new video and your done with part 1

ENTER PHOTOSHOP

Now what we’ll do is open our photoshop and import that clip into layers

FILE > IMPORT > VIDEO FRAMES TO LAYERS and select your video.

A small pop up will appear to show the clip you’re opening, you can trim it further here or just keep going by clicking okay

my setup is weird for drawing BUT you should have it looking remotely like this:

The things you will DEFINITELY need to see are TIMELINE, LAYERS, ADJUSTMENTS. If you don’t have these sections you can add them to your screen by clicking on the WINDOW tab at the very top menu bar and clicking on them

LAYERS - this is pretty self explanatory but each row is a layer in the gif. the more layers the bigger the gif will end up, the longer it plays. So bigger clips will have more layers and end up as larger gifs in the end.

TIMELINE - This is where you can edit the gifs timing (make it faster or slower)

We’ll be doing a bit of work with it so it’s important to know it well

ADJUSTMENTS - Best friend and worst nightmare. this is where ALL the tedious recoloring is done. VERY rarely would you not use these. 99.9% of kpop things are filmed through a green or blue lense so you’ll want to fix that to not have ghost idols

So, Let’s make a gif

Step 1 - In the top right corner of your timeline is a set of lines, click there and then click SELECT ALL FRAMES

under each frame is a time stamp (this video’s is 0.04) this decides how fast each clip goes by, or how quickly the gif moves. Personally I prefer slower gifs, but I say anywhere between 0.04-0.06 is a decent speed.

Step 2 - with all the frames selected, click on the small down arrow next to any of the frames and change the speed to your liking. (I’m going to use .06)

Step 3 - in that same tab of lines we’ll now click CONVERT TO VIDEO TIMELINE, which will change our Timeline to look like this:

Step 4 - Back in our very TOP menu we’ll click SELECT > ALL LAYERS, then on the TOP menu click FILTER > CONVERT FOR SMART FILTERS (this might take your computer a minute since our File is still pretty large.) Now our Time line will look like this:

Step 5 - Sharpening

This one is VERY MUCH something you’re going to have to play with to get your settings to be how you like them. It’s also where I’d use topaz adjustments, BUT since I said we’re doing basic PS gif we’re just going to be using smart sharpening. SO:

in the TOP munu again, click FILTER > SHARPEN > SMART SHARPEN

A pop up window will appear and you can edit the settings to your liking. Mine:

Step 6 - Resize your gif or crop it to tumblrs standards: big singal gifs have a 540px width || Two gifs use 268px || and three gifs use 177/178px

To do this we’ll use the crop tool and type in our dimensions in the menu bar:

and then crop to your liking. (this doesnt resize the gif it just crops to the correct ratio so we still have to shrink the gif)

Next, we’ll resize the gif to that size in the TOP menu click IMAGE > IMAGE SIZE a pop up menu will appear and you’ll type in your resize ratio and click enter.

Now technically thats a gif. it’s TECHNICALLY done. but mine is white washed and there are words on it that I dont want so onto the coloring and blurring.

First I’m going to show you how I blur text on gifs. because text is EVERYWHERE in kpop content and it’s hideous and I hate it. so lets kill it.

BLURRING LETTERING

First we’re going to add a new blank layer to our LAYER TAB by clicking the little box with the + inside at the bottom

Sometimes doing this can mess up the timeline’s selection but its SUPER easy to fix so lets do that.

So in our timeline we have these two bars on each side that select what part of the gif will play. this is also where you can readjust your gif if it has extra frames at the end, or it ends up being too large and you have to make the gif smaller to save it. Just click and drag the bars back to where our gif actually ends, and all is fixed!

Now on our new layer we’re gonna take a paint brush (one of the ones with a lot of fade NOT the solid circle ) and paint over where the words are like so:

MAKE SURE ITS ON OUR BLANK LAYER AND NOT THE GIF LAYER!!

I know it looks stupid but trust me okay.

Now in your LAYER tab we’re going to duplicate our gif layer by right clicking on it and selecting duplicate.

Then we’re going to drag the new gif layer so that it’s above the paint layer in our LAYER tab :

Now, right click on the top gif layer and select CREATE CLIPPING MASK. it should put a little down arrow to the left of the picture, toward the paint layer. This means the gif is ONLY visible where that paint is now.

So we’re going to click on FILTER in the TOP menu again (while we still have that top gif selected!) and Go to BLUR > GAUSSIAN BLUR. a pop up menu will appear and you can just drag the radius until the text is as blurry as you want it to be. (also IF you missed part of the text, you can just go add more paint to your paint layer and it will blur wherever you paint!)

so now my gif is like so:

So now we’ll color him, because he’s pretty washed out.

ADJUSTMENTS

This is where I’m going to be the least specific about what I do and more about what tools do, so that you can learn how to color things the way you like them!

The Adjustment tab on Photoshop has 16 options but I’m really only going to talk about 6 of them. We’ll do it in order though. All the actual adjustment tools will open in the PROPERTIES tab

Brightness / Contrast - Pretty self explanatory, but definitely should be toward the end of your coloring, as if can effect the quality a lot. Small adjustments do A LOT so don’t go crazy,

Levels - Levels is all about the balance of how dar or light your gifs will be if you adjust in the RGB layer it will adjust for the entire image, but if you change the selection to RED/GREEN/BLUE it will adjust just those colors hues. Also there are three small droppers to the left of the graph. using those you can select which part of the gif you want the image to recognize as the lightest/darkest part of the gif, and the tool will adjust the gifs coloring to that point. ( play with those droppers! magic happens i swear!)

Curves - Kind of like levels but instead of how light or dark the entire image is it works more on contrast. REALLY play with the curves options, i’m sure most things you can do with other tools can also just be done in curves if you’re patient enough to learn

Vibrance / Saturation - Vibrance will make duller parts of an image higher contract and brighter and saturation will make everything a more neon shade. or in reverse lowering vibrance will dull out the things that were already neutral and saturation will dull out the more vibrant parts of the image (usually reds)

Color Balance - Good for fixing tones. so if a live stage is SUPER BLUE!!!!! you can readjust and calm down the blues to dull them out or get rid of them completely. Again play with this its insane what it can do

Selective Color - adjusts the different colors in your image without touching the other colors. if you wanna touch the reds, make them pinker but not change the blues and greens, you do it here

If you want MORE drawn out explanations of what each of the 16 adjustment layers do here and here are actual articles you can look at. But it’s all about practice. playing with all the adjustments alone and together. Finding out what you like to do!

Now when you gif is ALLLLL colored and you’re ready to save it we do FILE > EXPORT > SAVE FOR THE WEB and a whole new window of options pops up. I’ll give you two examples of how to play with those options and then we’re done!

keep in MIND tumblr’s gif limit is 10MB which is pretty huge now, but still watch your gif size!!!!

AND SAVE your done!

I hope this was helpful! Let me know if you have any questions,again I’ll have an ask tag for it and it’ll get linked HERE if people end up needing help!

Happy giffing!!!

#drm.pst #drm.txt #Gif tutorial #this is LONG okay please be aware of that before you open it #als i did NOT reread it because it took me 3 hours to type out so it's probably a grammatic nightmare #BUT i'm JUST under a new milestone so i'm gifting this early because i had the patience to do it today lmao

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ringwaldtworldbuilding · 3 years ago

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Ringwaldt Deities Part 2

Here are the major Dwarven deities of the Ringwaldt setting.

Vorfahr, God of the Dwarves : LG : Ancestors, Friendship, Glory, Good, Judgement, Law, Repose

Adjective; The Dwarf Father : The First Ancestor

Home;

Favored Weapon; Dwarven Waraxe

Symbol; A Gold Scale

Sacred Animal; Goat

Sacred Colours; Gold, and White

Myths of the Deity

-Some say that Vorfahr crafted each of his children from silver and gold. Ths was the first great act of Investment. So also are the Dwarve’s own children a great investment that should be cherished. Glory comes even still for what could be a failure now could be another success.

-Vorfahr instructed those that follow him to obey the words of ancestors, lest their wealth dry as poor judgement would fall.

-Vorfahr crafted each of his sons from different items. But some say that his first attempt was crafting and carved a piece of silver and white jade crafting Alta the first gnome. Other versions say Alta tricked the First Ancestor to help craft the gnomish people for him so he could go about playing more tricks upon others.

-Yrka the god of dwarves challenged the Dwarf Father to glorious matches to test his resolve against the gods judgement. For losing some versions, his Glory domain was taken from him by Vorfahr albeit temporarily. Others say he lost only to recover in the dwarf kings holds and take with him a orichalcum breastplate to gift to his followers the glorious metal

Rituals, Holidays, and Sacred Days

-Honour the Ancestors in all things, for in them you find Glory. The flaws of the past will persist. Do not Judge those in repose- let them rest.

-Judge all with hardness of stone, and the compassion of friendship.

-Abide the law and do good for others.

-Mead of all kinds is highly encouraged, but the drinking of beer is frowned upon.

-Most temples carry a spirit of one of the Ancestors that consecrated the grounds, to guide and advise others. Ancestors are of great importance to dwarves as only the most blessed are those whom are allowed to remain behind to act as wisdom to the young.

-Marry who your father or mother proposes, unless the ancestors speak differently. Be wed after a year of courtship, and produce at least 1 son and 1 daughter.

-Keep your Book close, and record in it all that transpires a record of your wealth and accomplishments.

-A proper marriage contract for Vorfahr includes acknowledgements of both sides' great deeds, the families the integration of one and/or more members into the other family, the acceptance of certain ancestors and finally the crafting of a large urn to hold the couples ashes upon their deaths. Many negotiations and deals incorporate large rules for when only a singular partner dies within the space of a year. In Dwarven marriages one cannot remarry after the death of a spouse until 1year, 1month, 1week, and 1day later with an additional caveat of if the surviving family member is pregnant that countdown does not begin until the birth of their current child. Grieving widows and widowers are free to extend this grieving period to 11years should they require it.

- ‘The Ancestors Guide My Judgement’

- - - - - The father of all Dwarves is a stickler for the rules in my eyes genuinely meaning well but caught up in making a strong system that can endure, each thing must be recorded. Well also wanting it to be clear he caught in older views - - - - -

Krieg, God of Honour & War : LN : Honour, Law, Leadership, Legislation, Loyalty, Nobility, Tactics, War

Adjective; Noble Knight : Leader of Dwarves : The Honourable Legislator

Home;

Favored Weapon; Dwarven Longhammer

Symbol; A scroll crossed with an axe with a crown in the foreground

Sacred Animal; None

Sacred Colours; White

Myths of the Deity

-Krieg is said to have created the laws of society to stop the wasteful expense of battles. After all, war should happen, but if you gain nothing from it then you lose. And besides, collecting spoils is a great pleasure.

-Krieg created the legal system as a way to do battle without bloodshed. Instead, the cunning general targets his enemy’s resources in a war of dueling pocketbooks.

-Krieg was the first son of the father of dwarves, forged from Iron and Blood.

-Krieg holds respect for his brothers and teaches his followers to not cheat their siblings but always attempt to earn more even if they are provided more. This is most entailed to Krieg not being forged of precious stones or metals unlike his siblings

Rituals, Holidays, and Sacred Days

-Honour the Leader. Honour the Laws. Honour the Legislation and those who enforce laws. Honour the great men.

-Hierarchy exists to be followed.To disregard leadership is to destroy it. One who is weak or a failure will in time themselves fail.

-Courts are a battlefield of tactics and wordplay. One earns honour in them just as in war.

-Clerics carry hammers and wear heavy white linens wrapped tightly upon their form.

-Marry who your father or mother proposes unless the ancestors speak differently. Be wed after a year of courtship and produce at least 1 son and 1 daughter. Do not seek beyond your station.

-Battle others with the word of the law as surely as a hammer. A clever mind, deadly tactics and honour go further then mindless bloodshed.

-Hostile Acquisitions is a valid tactic, temper costs danger.

- ‘Wealth is Honour.’

- - - - - Krieg is probably the most popular Dwarven deity within their home nation and has a large amount of active worship - - - - -

Bilkeit, God of Craftsmen : CN : Artifice, Chaos, Education, Fortification, Knowledge,Protection, Toil

Adjective; Lord Arbitrator of Knowledge : The Builder of Walls : The Toiling Artificer

Home;

Favored Weapon; Throwing Hammer

Symbol; A Gold bee on a rampart or tower

Sacred Animal; Bee’s

Sacred Colours; Gold & Steel

Myths of the Deity

-Bilkeit is Flanze’s brother, born some centuries apart. The two demigods would become gods for their works of craft for the Dwarven people

-Bilkeit is said to have lashed the continents together with great chains and massive immovable rods, working tirelessly to shift and stop the motions of the continents.

-Bilkeit is said to be the second son of Vorfahr, and is forged of copper and ink.

-“Cost is not important, quality is king” is what Bilkeit taught, and rebelled against Krieg’s idea of war being fought by pocket books, instead advocating for education, and protection of those who toil for the community.

Rituals, Holidays, and Sacred Days

-Toil in the fields, in your craft, in learning or just building- but do something.

-Make each day an adventure in learning new things, not only for yourself but for others. Educate freely, and help protect young minds. Feel free to have them toil for the knowledge they seek until they are ready.

-Gird yourself in the protection education provides.

-Hop and other Malt Beverages are his preferences. He prefers to leave clear spirits for his brother.

-All clerics must learn to craft something,, and most have apprentices for both clerical and forging work, educating both with equal conviction. When not spreading the word, they toil ceaselessly to improve their craft.-Clerics often carry detailed textbooks with them, and make copies of any instructional texts they can find.

-Pick up new knowledge as easily as you put down old lies.

-As a high posthumous honor for those who serve Bilkeit well, their ashes are mixed into the concrete (or other material) for a grand construction project.

- ‘May the Mortar hold for yours and your fellows.’

- - - - - I feel Bilkeit is very much the dwarven ideal of a craftsman a bit mad a bit crazed focused upon their tasks. His belief in quality a dwarven ideal but his willingness to sacrifice profits aligning him against dwarven tradition - - - - -

Flanze, God of Medicine : NG : Good, Growth, Healing, Knowledge, Medicine, Memory, Plant

Adjective; The Druidic Dwarf : The Healer of Memory : Lord of Medical Miracles

Home;

Favored Weapon; Dagger

Symbol; A leaf with writing along it

Sacred Animal; Sheep

Sacred Colours; Green & Gold

Myths of the Deity

-Flanze is the older brother to Bilkeit the warm spirited brother to his tempestuous younger sibling

-Though Flanze is the older brother he is subscribed as the 3rd son of Vorfahr and was forged of emeralds and sap.

-Flanze teaches that medicine should be for the people of the people and by the people and that memory is long as a silver vein. And that to grow a community, cost cutting will only aid one in the short term for anything longer would be failure as a weak foundation crumbles as the roots of a mighty oak

Rituals, Holidays, and Sacred Days

-Grow your own garden to learn and understand the care it takes for each item. Your own growth will come with the memories.

-Some of the most deadly poisons come from the simplest of things- as do cures.

-Take care to care

-Adapt and record, stitch and heal to put each piece back in its place.

-Clerics should always keep a sheep on hand for wool or other uses.

-Clear spirits should be used to steady oneself, and to also clean and disinfect.

-Flanze clerics carry medical daggers, and often keep them in sheaths decorated in his symbology.

-Flanze clerics dress in green robes with gold embroidery. Their temples are large stone structures with gardens along the outside full of medicinal plants. The insides are part medical facility and part church.

-Flanze clerics use a particular mushroom ground into a paste for consecrating holy places. A variety of this mushroom is also used to brew ‘Black Brew’.

-Flanze sects are divided among, those who wish to teach and protect the communities they care for, and for-profit doctors who wish to fit within greater dwarven society.

- ‘By the Stem of Knowledge’ is a common phrase for making conjecture within the church.

- - - - - I have viewed Flanze as the most like Vorfahr and yet the most opposed to him - - - - -

Overall the Dwarven pantheon is meant to be small insular and part of it is how the dwarves of the setting view the world the other part being the lack of forward motion by the dwarven gods in interacting with there followers.

The only Dwarven deity not included in this section was Honnig

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dragonofthedepths · 3 years ago

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29/100 (29th of June 2021)

(29/100) Written/posted for the #100daysofwriting challenge by @the-wip-project

I spent several hours today filling out a survey on my fanfiction reading habits! This was not supposed to take several hours, but my inability to answer any free form question without writing multiple paragraphs dragged it out much longer than it was supposed to be! Considering that this was done around baking, having a friend over, and finishing a drawing that according to the timer on my art program took me a cumulative 22.5 hours to complete, I figured I would just copy and paste some of my more interesting answers here for today!

Here’s the link to the survey if you want to take it yourself, apparently it’s part of some kind of collage study:

https://robertgordonuniversity.onlinesurveys.ac.uk/fanfiction-questionnaire

Question:

What type(s) of library/libraries do you use? What activities or purposes do you use them for?

Answer:

The local library. I go there every now and then when I’m looking for an actual book to read, I usually have what I want already in mind, but might end up picking up something new from the same section if anything particularly catches my interest. Very occasionally I grab a few reference books, usually on things like religions that are harder to find a comprehensive reference for online beneath all the sensationalism and opinions.

I almost always spend at last a couple hours there, looking through my selection and reading a chapter or two. the only reason I’ll leave without sitting down and beginning at least one book is if I’m already late for something somewhere else.

Tldr: I use my local library, I do not go very often but I take my time when I do.

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Question (fanfiction.net):

If possible, please explain your typical process for finding fanfiction to read.

Answer:

Whenever I get interested in a new show I’ll latch on to a concept or particular character interaction eg. Villain!hero, ensemble finds out secret, character A needs a hug, character A adopted by character B, character C & character D friendship & hurt/comfort. Sometimes (especially if it’s a lesser known thing/has a small fandom) I’ll be as vague as favorite character, timetravel, wingfic, or soulmate AU. Whatever it is that I’ve latched onto, I’ll enter it into the search bar on whatever browser I’m using, and open whatever links look most appealing in a new tab, giving preference to stories from any website except Wattpad* over any king of collection, and links to Ao3 preference over links to anything else.

From there I work my way through everything that was offered, and as I do so I eventually come across new things that capture my interest, and —in general terms— follow them.

On ff.net I’ll follow the link back to the page for whatever franchise this is, then open the filter menu, select "all ratings" and begin using the filters to look for whatever character or pair of characters (seeing as looking for idea is not really possible on ff.net) interests me most in either the family, hurt/comfort, or angst genre depending on which has the most stories, unless one of them has stories in excess of 3 or 4 hundred, in which case I’ll pick whichever has the least stories. I’ll then go through the offerings, opening any story that look is interesting in a new tab. If I make it through all of that and somehow haven’t found something better to do on Ao3, then when I’m done I’ll go back to the genre filter and pick whichever had the middling number of stories, then after that the one on the opposite end of the spectrum from most to least. If at any point I’m offered more than 1,000 stories I’ll add additional filters until the results drop below 1,000, because I am not dealing with slogging through that much ff.net at once. If there is that much written for whatever I’m looking for, then either there’s some on Ao3 and I can leave, or I’m actually looking for something more specific and was just over-estimating how vague I’d need to be to get results at all. This is very methodical probably because I do not like this site and am putting up with it only to find what I’m currently looking for, I never get new ideas prompted to me or am enticed to wander off the beaten track. I don’t use ff.net very often, though still more often then I go to the library.

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Question:

Are there any search features or filters you wish fanfiction.net had for readers and searchers?

Answer:

Fanfiction.net is not a functional website, it’s a particularly shitty ghost town that is actively crumbling to pieces around its few remaining inhabitants. I it’s a hassle to read on and I only do so because I’m a fan of rare pairs, and have to take anything I can get, and because I’m a fan of a particular kind of low-brow overpowered-hero fanfiction that tends to be more common there then on Ao3 or Tumblr.

I wish it didn’t have adds in the middle of a page, every time I hit next chapter, ect.

I wish it didn’t have pointless captchas every time I start a new session.

I wish it had a visually pleasant format for presenting the stories for you to select from. Whether they’re search bar results, the results of a filter search, stories in a collection, or stories on an author’s page. It’s the same aggressively bad format and makes it hard to tell them apart from eachother and hard to pick which one(s) I want.

I wish stories could have longer summaries. They are so short that it forces everyone to sound same-y and rushed, and if an author want to include trigger warnings they have to be even shorter.

I wish there was a way to exclude/search/mark trigger warnings.

I wish you could select more than four characters in the filters, I wish authors could TAG more than four characters.

I wish there was a way to search/mark platonic relationships instead of only romantic.

I wish there was a way to search/mark a single character in multiple separate relationships eg. [A/B] and [A/C]

I wish there was a way to search for certain tropes or cliches without relying on pure hope that either the author used part of their limited summary space to mention it, or that someone else already made a collection for that trope and managed to find at least a few (they never have all) of the fics containing it.

I wish you could copy and paste the text without having to switch to the mobile version of the website. I don’t personally know why you can’t do this on desktop but I’ve heard other people say it’s because it’s actually generated as a pdf instead of genuine text.

I wish there was a way to open the whole story in one tab instead of being forced to go through it other by chapter.

I wish there was a way for authors to include author’s notes without it being part of the chapter.

I wish there was a way for authors to respond to comments without doing so in the author’s notes.

I wish the formatting wasn’t so aggressively bad as to be actively harming the quality of the story. I have found stories that were posted on both Ao3 and ff.net and read them on both websites, no differences in text, in punctuation, in anything at all, but on Ao3 it flowed much better, was much easier to read, and I’d have given a higher estimation of the author’s skill level if asked. All because it wasn’t actively being dragged down by ff.net’s formatting.

There are probably a fair few more things that I’m just not managing to think of at the moment, but considering there’s no way ff.net will ever be fixed and is in fact very likely to completely implode and die in the near future, I think this is good enough.

Sorry for the essays every time I’m allowed to write an answer but you’re asking loaded questions.

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Question (Ao3):

If possible, please explain your typical process for finding fanfiction to read.

Answer:

From there I work my way through everything that was offered, and as I do so I eventually come across new things that capture my interest, and —in general terms— follow them.

On Ao3 I’ll head back up to the top of a fic I really enjoyed and click on the tag for whatever little bit of it I enjoyed the most, and begin browsing again from there, refining with filters and following links and tags from new stories.

I will filter out reader inserts, original characters, y/n, or notps if I keep seeing too many of them in my results, but otherwise I’ll just scroll past them. Sometimes if I’ve been reading for a specific idea for a while I’ll sort by word count and begin going through it from least to most to see if there’s anything I’ve been missing because it’s not been updated recently. And sometimes if I feel like reading fanfiction but don’t have anything particular in mind I’ll just head to the Ao3 page for the main character (more reliable then a fandom tag, if a franchise exists in multiple forms of media they’ll usually each have their own tag the fanfiction will be scattered accordingly) of one of the bigger fandoms I’m in and start trawling the page for anything that looks interesting.

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Question:

Please use the box below to write any thoughts or opinions on this questionnaire or the subjects within it that you did not get the chance to share.

Answer:

On how I find fanfiction to read on websites that are not ff.net or Ao3, copy-pasted from the original all-encompassing answer I wrote before I realized you were looking for answers only about the website you’d just been talking about:

Wattpad (which I did not select when asked what websites I search for fanfiction on because I never willingly go looking there I just end up on it sometimes to my great frustration.):

Whatever idea it is that I’ve latched onto, I’ll enter it into the search bar on whatever browser I’m using, and open whatever links look most appealing in a new tab, giving preference to stories from any website except Wattpad* preference over tags or other collections, and links to Ao3 preference over links to anything else.

(*If links to Wattpad make it onto the first page of results, I’ll take whatever meager scrapings I was offer from other websites, then give up the search as a lost cause and pick a new idea as a I mourn the lack of the content I want to read. Only if I am already very attached to an idea and very desperate will I follow a link to wattpad. That website is the only one I have ever encountered worse then ff.net and it is an absolute unnavigable MESS.)

Tumblr:

If I’m on tumblr (mobile, I’ve never used tumblr on the computer but I don’t think it works the same) then once I find one thing to read that I like, I’ll begin tapping my way through the suggested posts on the bottom based on whatever looks the most interesting from what little I get to see of it. Sometimes I’ll end up on a specific blog or a specific tag, and I’ll just scroll through reading anything that looks even mildly cool regardless of whether it has anything to do with what I was originally searching for or not, until I click on a specific post for some reason (usually a “read more“), and then I’m back to navigating by suggested posts again. I tend to wander through fandoms and subfandoms a lot faster here, trading one interesting idea for the next as they’re presented to me. It’s a lot of fun and I sometimes discover completely new stuff! I’ll often end up following Authors I really like so that their stuff will end up in my feed, and this is really the only site on which I do that.

Just another couple comments on my general media consumption habits that I didn’t really see anywhere else to put:

Everything I stated about my fanfiction habits when getting into a new show applied if it’s a movie or book or game too, it’s just that 90% of the time it’s a show. My favorite movies are documentaries so I’m not sure what fanfiction for them would even look like, I prefer video essays and theories for games, and I just don’t read as many books as I used to. About half of the remaining 10% of the time is actually probably musicals.

It’s not unusual for me to have seen only three or so episodes of a show, but to have read insane amounts of fanfiction for it. I have difficulty sitting down to actually watch a show, and I usually only expend the effort for my absolute favorite series, so most of my interaction with most shows ends up being fanfiction. Getting into a new show because I came across some really good fanfiction for it is not uncommon either.

#100daysofwriting #how do I tag this #scribblings from the deep #I guess #fix tags later

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fanfictionaries · 5 years ago

Text

A Fine Line Between Lust and Hate - jbbuckybarnes Birthday Challenge

Thank you to @jbbuckybarnes for this fun writing challenge! Congratulations on over 900 followers and also happy 21st birthday! It’s a fun age, enjoy it!

Prompt 1: Bookstore AU

Prompt 2: “Just gimme the book and fuck off!”

Pairing: AU Bookstore!Bucky Barnes X female reader

Summary: If there was one person you hated more than anyone else in the world it was James Buchanan “Call Me Bucky” Barnes. Or at least, you thought you did. As Bucky continues to press your patience, it becomes unclear as to whether it’s hate you feel, or lust.

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Swearing, smut, doggy style, oral (male receiving), NSFW/18+ only

Author’s Note: Man, I do love a good rousing debate over literature.

***

You stood in one of the long aisles as you worked on putting the store’s most recent influx of donations on the shelves. The endless rows of historical memories stretched high above your head and all around you. However, the large stack in front of you currently sat untouched, a copy of Ernst Jünger’s Storm of Steel held tightly in your grasp, as you watched the events occurring at the front desk. Your coworker, James, was leant casually against the counter, once again ignoring his work duties as he openly and obnoxiously flirted with the woman in front of him.

God, you hated him. You hated his stupid long hair that he pulled up into a stupid bun. You hated his stupid tight jeans that hugged his thick thighs and his stupid red Henley that accentuated his muscular shoulders and arms. You hated his stupid handsome face that only fueled his overall cocky attitude. God, you absolutely hated James Buchanan ‘Call Me Bucky’ Barnes.

You hadn’t set out to hate him of course. Quite the opposite in fact. When your boss informed you of a new employee who wasn’t a billion-year-old woman, you had been ecstatic. Not to say you didn’t love Lucille, but to finally meet a person close to your age that loved books so much they were willing to work at the musty, expansive bookstore was a dream come true. For years now, you’d found yourself spending more time alone, tucked into the rows of books than you did with anyone your own age. You’d think that the kitschy bookstore would be a draw to the younger individuals in town, with the rise of intellectualism or at least the guise of intellectualism within today’s youth. Not to mention, the fact that it was nestled in between the cutest antique store and 50’s style diner. But, alas, it didn’t seem to be on trend for your town. Instead, you got the odd stragglers of older individuals who still enjoyed reading physical books, and local community college students looking to either sell or buy books for classes. That’s why the idea of coming into work every day to a coworker you could relate to was beyond wonderful. However, it hadn’t taken long for James to get so far under your skin, you practically wore him like a pair of itchy long johns.

It had started with his complete disregard for the books and their safety. As a self-proclaimed bibliophile, you took great pride in the care and safety of the books in the store. They were a mix of new and used, the older ones coming into your protective arms the moment you clocked the torn corners and dog-eared pages. You spent hours restoring them before putting them out to be appreciated by the next reader. That’s why, on his third day there when you’d spotted him using his copy of Catcher in the Rye as a coaster for his iced coffee, you’d nearly had an aneurysm. You wished that the situation was a one-time thing, but every time you turned a corner, he was bending spines, creasing pages, WRITING in the margins. He was a book sadist.

Then of course, there was the lackadaisical way in which he approached his job. Not once, not twice, but ten times in the last three months you had stayed late finishing work that had been assigned to him. Why did you do it, instead of letting him take the fall for shoddy work? Well, because it was always things that needed to be done either before the shop could close or before the shop could open. Closing out the till, turning off all the lights, locking the back door, fixing the displays, picking up the giant stack of books that had fallen near the back, changing a burnt-out light using the very old and very rickety ladder.

And lastly, the one thing you absolutely hated the most about him was just how incredibly flirty he was! From the very beginning, he took every opportunity to hit on you. At first it had been flattering, but incredibly jarring and confusing. What could he possibly want with you? He looked like that and you looked like, well people didn’t really want to date the weird bookstore girl that always smelled faintly of old books. Then, it had all come into focus. James flirted with everyone. Not just you. Everyone. The moment a woman under the age of forty walked through those front doors, James was there with his stupid charming ways; “Can I help you with anything today?” “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing in here today?” “I knew a woman of your caliber would have good taste in books.” All the while, he’d chance little glances your way, smirking at you and raising his eyebrows slightly. It was all a game to him. Prick.

“Now, see, that is a fantastic choice. I knew the moment you walked in you had good taste,” stated James pointing down at the copy of The God of Small Things that was currently clutched to the woman’s chest in her perfectly manicured hands. You rolled your eyes. Ridiculous. You glanced over again to see James smirking in your direction before he walked the woman to the front door and waved her goodbye, shutting and locking the door behind her. Last customer of the day. You sighed, turning back to the stacks in front of you and swiftly putting the books back into place. The quicker you got this done, the quicker you would be out of there and away from James’ mocking face and overall itchy personality. You continued to put the books away, probably harsher than you should have, as you listened to the faint sounds of James closing out the till. Well, at least he was doing that today. I knew the moment you walked in you had good taste, you mocked him in your head, huffing and puffing at just how infuriating he was. You winced at a particularly harsh shove of a book into the shelve. Quickly, you pulled it out and inspect the corners and sides of the hard cover.

“Careful there—” a pair of large hands came into your line of site, snatching the book from your hands “—What did Michael Herr ever do to you?”

“Nothing,” you huffed, turning to grab the book back, but coming up unsuccessful. “Although, I really would prefer it if you didn’t allow customers to stay so late past closing.”

“Why? Got somewhere to be? Hot date?” James asked, circling around you to lean against the bookshelves to your right.

You snorted, “As if that’s any of your business.”

“Come on. Lighten up a little bit (Y/N). She needed help finding a good book for her English class,” said James, pulling the book out of reach as you attempted to grab it back from him once again.

“Okay,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes and reaching back down to the stack of books remaining on the cart to your left.

“What? You got something against Indian authors writing about caste relations and cultural tensions?”

“No, but I think if Roy tried to squeeze one more literary device into the text, the book would literally explode. Nobody genuinely enjoys a work where the author is intentionally trying to be clever. It’s obnoxious,” you said as you continued to put the books into their correct spaces as quickly as possible.

“Oh, so I guess you don’t care for Shakespeare then? What about Vonnegut, Anne Rice, Tolkien? Every author thinks they’re clever (Y/N). If they didn’t, they wouldn’t be writers,” said James, crossing his arms and leaning towards you condescendingly.

“That’s-that’s just ridiculous,” you responded lamely, placing the last book in your pile away.

“Oh really? Then please, oh smart one, name a single author who didn’t take themselves so seriously that it didn’t bleed through their work in some way,” James challenged, once again pulling the book in his hands away from your reaching hands.

You stood there, glowering at the man in front of you as you tried to come up with some king of answer. “C. S. Lewis,” you blurted out, wanting to kick yourself at the obviously stupid answer.

A barking laugh left James, “Oh come on. The man spent most of his career preaching Christian values and what it means to be moral. He even went so far as to write a short story on what the afterlife looks like and how to get into heaven. Or are we just going to pretend like The Great Divorce didn’t happen? Just because he wrote a bunch of entertaining children’s stories bathed in Christian symbolism with little effort does not mean that he didn’t take himself seriously.”

His astute criticism caught you off guard and peaked your anger, mainly because to a certain extent he was right. That didn’t mean you were going to let him know that though, “Excuse you! I’ll have you know he wrote The Great Divorce after the death of his wife. What else was he supposed to write about? You know what James—”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Bucky?”

“Just gimme the book and fuck off!”

Your eyes widened at your outburst. You’d never spoken to anyone like that before in your life. Opening your mouth to apologize, you quickly closed it when James sighed heavily and pushed himself off of the bookshelf. He stared at you, his eyes calculating as he closed the space between you, slamming the good on the shelf behind your head. You jumped, turning so that you faced him head on, your back to the endless rows of books. James placed an intimidatingly large arm on either side of you, bracing himself against oak shelves. You swallowed thickly at the sheer size of him. Your pulse quickened. He had never been this close to you.

“You know what (Y/N)? I think you’re just jealous,” James murmured, tilting his head dangerously low to yours.

“Jealous? Of what?” you asked, your voice embarrassingly breathy, as your head began to swim. He was so close. So close you could smell his cologne, a musky warm scent mixed with the fresh scent of soap and…old books? Subtly, you tried to inhale more of the tantalizing smell without James noticing. But one glance up and you could see that familiar smirk and cocky gleam in his eye.

“Me, and every woman that walks in here ready to fuck me in the encyclopedia section.”

You gasped at his words, “That’s ridiculous. Why would I be jealous of that?”

“Because you want to fuck me in the encyclopedia section.”

“I—I do not—I do not want to—I hate you!”

James leaned closer, his nose brushing against yours, “Doesn’t mean you don’t want to fuck me—” His head titled, his lips brushing across your cheek, your jawline, and then to the shell of your ear. “—Just say the word and I’ll take you right there. Right then. Any time. Any day.”

You shivered at the offer. Never had his flirting gone this far. Sure, James had given you a flirtatious smile and charming little comment here and there, but never had he come close to propositioning you. You should say no. You hate him. He’s everything you despise and yet…

“Fuck it.” Rising up on the tips of your toes, you wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his in a searing kiss. James’ lips claim yours, never hesitating for a second, as if expecting it. The soft skin of his plush lips a stark contrast to the harsh way in which you both battled for dominance. Every ounce of anger, frustration, and tension that you held towards him fought its way through your body as you nipped, bit, and tugged. James’ hands moved from the bookshelf to your body, gripping your hips and tugging you harshly against him, revealing the same level of pent up aggression. His hands traveled upwards, cupping your breasts through your sweater, roughly massaging them as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. Threading your fingers into his hair, you tugged harshly earning you a growl from James. Breaking away from the kiss just long enough to pull your sweater up and over your head, your bodies reconnected, the feel of your bare torso against him feeling oh so right. You continued to hang onto him for dear life, as his kisses left you breathless and needy. Bringing a leg up around his hip, your pelvis rocked against him, searching for any kind of friction as you climbed him like a tree.

“Eager, aren’t we?” James teased, hands moving down to harshly grasp your ass and lift you up. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you allowed him to carry you the brief distance away from the bookshelves and lower you onto the rough carpet floor. Trailing kisses down your neck and towards your breasts, he roughly yanked the cups of your bra down before taking a nipple between his teeth. You arched into his mouth, loving the sting as he bit down.

“God, I knew you’d be a fucking little minx,” panted James, sitting up on his knees. “Look at you all sexy and needy. Just had to get you to let go.”

Pushing up onto your elbows, you stared up at him, “Shut the fuck up and take your shirt off James.”

Swinging his hand down, he swatted the inside of your thigh, “The name’s Bucky, babe.”

Your head fell backwards at the contact and your pussy clenched as you moaned low. Sitting up, you ripped his shirt from his torso and threw it behind you before pushing him down onto the ground. You made quick work of removing your bra, shoes, and pants before reaching for his belt buckle. This time it was his turn to push up onto his elbows as he watched your near naked form, undo his belt and then his pants. You tugged at his pants and then his boxers in a desperate manner, James kicking off his shoes and socks to held aid in their removal. Finally, when he was naked before you, you took a moment to admire the lean curves of his muscular form and the thick cock that sat just below his belly button, nestled in a patch of short brown curls.

Running your nails lightly up and down his thighs, you smirked as he writhed below you, sucking in a harsh breath through his teeth. Lowering yourself slowly, you positioned yourself between his thick thighs and grasped the base of his cock in your hand, wasting no time in wrapping your lips around the head and swirling your tongue around him. Bucky cursed, low and sexy as you took him in your mouth. You worked him with your lips and tongue as your moved lower and lower. Spit gathered in your mouth as you breathed through your nose, giving your all into pleasuring the man below you. You wanted to once and for all wipe the smirk off of James “Bucky” Barnes’ face. When you made it almost all the way to the base, you hollowed your cheeks, sucking as you massaged the vein on the underside of his cock with your tongue. His hands flew to the back of your head, fingers lacing in your hair and gripping tight. He held onto you for dear life as you attempted to suck the soul out of him through his dick alone.

“Jesus Christ! Fuck! (Y/N),” he yelled, his body shuddering. When you slipped down the last few inches, allowing his cock to slip easily down your throat, he stilled, body rigid before he pulled you off of him with a curse.

You fell backwards onto your hands, spit coating your lips and drool falling down your chin as you breathed in deeply. A low growl escaped James’ throat as he launched himself at you, flipping you onto your stomach, and ripping your panties down your legs. His hands found your center in no time, his fingers delving deep into your core easily, aided by the embarrassing amount of arousal there. James fingered you, curving and finding that special spot inside of you that made your see stars. You yelped, bucking your hips back against him. His teeth sunk into the supple flesh of your ass.

“You’re god damn dripping down my arm (Y/N). Did sucking my cock turn you on that much?”

“Yes!” you admitted, continuing to rock your hips against him. Pulling his fingers from you, you whimpered at the loss of contact. The loss was only temporary though, as soon James was pulling your hips up, placing you back on your knees, face still pressed against the carpet as he lined his cock up with your entrance. There was no slow and delicate start. No, in one swift thrust, he was seated fully inside of you, hands firmly grasping your ass as he began to fuck you at a punishing pace.

“Fucking hell baby. Your pussy is like a vice-grip. I don’t think I’m going to last long,” he admitted, continuing to pound into you, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. He reached down, finding your clit and rubbing light, fast circles around it until you began to feel the familiar pressure building in your lower abdomen.

“Yes! Bucky! Fuck. Just like that, don’t stop!” you cried, desperate to reach your climax. The carpet scraped against your skin, sure to leave burns after. But you didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was the delicious stretch of your cunt around Bucky’s cock and your imminent orgasm.

“That’s it, baby. Say my fucking name again. Say my name as you cum all around me.”

You chanted his name over and over again, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, until finally you were approaching the edge and falling over. Your body shuddered and hips bucked as you came, loving the feeling of every hard ridge of Bucky’s thick cock inside of you. A few seconds late, he was pulling out of you and then you felt the warm streams of cum splashing across your ass. You collapsed fully onto the carpet below you, Bucky falling after you and rolling to lay beside you. You laid there, in post-orgasmic bliss. The feeling of Bucky’s fingertips trailing up and down your spine soothing you down from your high. After a little while, the two of your stood up and began to redress. Bucky, ever the gentleman, told you to wait as he ran to the front counter and came back with some tissues before wiping up the mess he had made on your ass.

Once you were both dressed, you finished closing up the store. Neither of you spoke, instead choosing to spare the other furtive little glances as you turned out the lights and locked the door behind you both.

“Looks like the diner is still open. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” Bucky asked, looking down at you giving you a small, shy smile that you’d never seen on him before.

His question caught you off guard. He wanted to buy you coffee. “Oh, Bucky. You don’t have to feel obligated to—”

“—I don’t feel obligated. I, um, I want to.” He swallowed thickly, almost as if he was nervous. Was he nervous? “I know we just, well, I know we skipped a few steps, but I actually do want to take you out. I’ve been trying to hint it to you for the past three months.”

“So, all the flirting with the customers…?”

“Was me stupidly trying to make you jealous,” laughed Bucky, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets.

“Ah,” you said, a smiling spreading across your face, “How about you buy me a coffee and tell me all your thoughts on Brontë.”

“How much time do you have?” asked Bucky with an exaggerated groan.

Holding your hand out to him, you reveled in the feel of his warm palm connecting with yours, “All the time in the world.”

Marvel Taglist:

@caffiend-queen

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

#jbbuckybarnesBirthdayChallenge #fanfic #fanfiction #bookstoreau #smut #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #marvel

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writingithink · 4 years ago

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The Doctor’s Domestic Nightmare Pairing: Ten x Rose Rated: G Wordcount: 2,542 Summary: They visit Jackie to do some Earth-wedding planning. Notes: This is for Day 5 of @timepetalsweek ! I used two of the prompts, the picture prompt and 'family'. A fair amount of the other fics in this series get referenced in this one, but I still don't think you'd be lost if you haven't read them. Extra special thanks to @hey-there-juliet , the best beta ever <3 All mistakes are mine. I own nothing.

READ IT ON AO3 -> copy/paste link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25478851

The Doctor landed the TARDIS outside the flat this time. Anything he could do to make this whole thing go easier (and hopefully quicker).

“How long are we staying?” He turned toward Rose, who was still sitting on the jumpseat, doing something on her phone.

“Thought we might stay the night,” she slowly replied, attention obviously otherwise involved. “Mum’s been lonely.”

“What are you doing?”

Normally she was out of the ship in a heartbeat when they landed at the Estates. This time she didn’t look like she’d be moving anytime soon. Their bond wasn’t providing him with anything useful, just a mix of concentration, mild frustration, and sympathy. They had agreed to both put their barriers up decently high shortly after she woke up, when they started to create a stress feedback-loop in each other's heads. He sat down next to her and leaned over her shoulder to see that she was texting Jackie.

“You know, you can talk to her in person right outside these doors,” the Doctor felt the need to point out.

“No, no, however my phone works now, the sonic or the TARDIS or whatever, it, like- it blocked my texts until I woke up this mornin’. But if you look at the little time stamps, it’s sendin’ my replies as if I didn’t wait a month to answer. I’m texting my mum three days ago,” Rose explained.

“Oh. Huh. Must be the TARDIS. Have you been doing this all morning?”

“Yeah. The first text came through as being from about, I dunno … an hour after we left last time?”

“Well, knowing your mother, she’ll be outside the door any minute. Doubt you’ll have time to finish the week,” he admitted with a frown. The Doctor hoped that all of the guilt he was feeling at keeping the two of them apart was safely behind the walls he’d erected in his mind. Of course, traveling, being away from her mother, that was Rose’s decision (and one that he was immensely, immensely glad for).

But still.

He and Rose had talked, back when they were at the Olympics, after the Isolus. About things, family things, Gallifrey things that he didn’t want to talk about. Thankfully, with the bond, he was able to show her more than tell her, because the words wouldn’t come half the time - a real shock, with his gob. And he’d admitted to her how much he wished things had been different with his children. That he’d been more like them, or they’d been more like him - but they had taken after their mother, who was a very respectable Time Lady, and fit right in. Whereas he never had. Things had brightened up a little when he told her about Susan, but overall the whole thing had made them both very sad, very ill timed conversation to have on a honeymoon.

And now he felt guilty, much more so than usual, at the thought of Jackie being lonely while they gallivanted about time and space.

“I need to change,” Rose announced, jostling him as she stood and bringing him back to the present.

“What?”

“She’s made some appointments at some very nice places and I have to change. Ahh, I don’t even know what to wear!” she exclaimed, quickly exiting the console room but pausing at the entrance to the main corridor. “If mum shows up, can you stall her?”

“ What?!”

But his wife was gone, apparently off to change out of her jeans and hoodie. The Doctor sighed, circling the console, mentally calculating what repairs he might be able to make some progress on in the time that he would be waiting on her. It really was a shame that humans tended not to pick an outfit and stick to it - things would be so much simpler. Not that he didn’t enjoy all the fun, different things Rose wore. And she did seem to really enjoy dressing up for all of the different places they went to.

Just as he was considering perhaps changing his tie, knocking started up on the TARDIS door.

Oh, bloody hell.

He flinched, expecting a mental zap, but it never came. Right, they were blocking most things out. Ehh …

The benefits of mental privacy - today, at least. Well, it was obviously necessary but he really didn’t like it. What did it say about him that he preferred to be telepathically reprimanded than to not be telepathically noticed at all?

Probably nothing good.

The Doctor shook his head as the knocking continued, and then jogged down the ramp, grabbing his coat as he went. He opened the door just wide enough to slip out, slamming it closed with his back as soon as he’d cleared it.

“Hello, Jackie!” he greeted his mother-in-law with a wide grin.

“Doctor,” she responded, crossing her arms. Ohh, and he’d been hoping she would have warmed back up after last time. Then again, what had been a month and a half for them had only been a week for her. “Where’s Rose?”

“She’s still getting ready. I never can tell how long it’s going to take her, so I may have landed us a bit, er, prematurely.”

“You’re not lyin’, are ya? She’s not in there sick, or injured, or- or-“

“No no no no no,” he quickly interrupted, waving his hands about, “I would never lie to you about something like that! Rose is fine. She’s just- just- picking an outfit or doing her hair or something.”

“Alright then,” Jackie said, finally seeming to relax … a bit. “Maybe I can give her a hand.”

The Doctor knocked her arm away as she reached for the door, and that was quite rude, wasn’t it? Definitely not doing anything to get back into her good graces, but if Rose was still texting and Jackie had her mobile on her, he wasn’t sure it would still work if her mum entered the TARDIS.

“If you go in, it’ll take even longer!” he insisted, not knowing if that was necessarily true but assuming it was. Jackie had never been in the wardrobe room, so he could only imagine. “Why don’t we head inside? Otherwise we might be standing outside the TARDIS for ages.”

“ You want to sit around the flat with me, no Rose?” She seemed skeptical, and he really couldn’t blame her.

“Yeah! Of course!” The Doctor pasted on what he hoped was a winning smile.

The things he did for his wife.

“Riiiight. Okay, then. Fine. She better be quick about it, though, otherwise we’ll be late. You shoulda waited for her to land that box of yours,” she scolded him as they headed up to the flat. He took the time to really look at her, and realized that Jackie actually looked quite nice today, for once not wearing one of her velour tracksuits.

It was too bad he couldn’t tell her that of course he’d waited for Rose before landing.

“Won’t happen again,” he said instead, hoping that was true.

They entered the flat and the Doctor was sincerely at a loss as to how to proceed. He projected everything that had happened to Rose, just getting an ‘okay’ in response. Her mental presence was frenzied, and he wished he knew how to be more helpful. The fact was, he had wandered into something very human that he had never thought that he’d ever be a part of.

“So, how’s it been?” Jackie called out from the kitchen.

“Hmm?” He wandered into the room to see her moving about, fixing tea.

“I said, how’s it been, the two of you. With your first week or however long it’s been for ya, dating.”

“ Dating?!” the Doctor repeated, and now she was facing him, looking at him like he was an idiot for some reason, but excuse her, what?!

“My daughter?”

“No, I know your daughter, but we’re not dating! We’re married!”

“Right, sure, so you’ve been sayin’, but the fact is you two weren’t even properly together before your alien voodoo ended up accidentally getting you hitched. You can’t go from nothin’ to married like that, relationship-wise, no matter what ya got goin’ on with your shared brain whatever you call it.”

What?

“Bond,” he found himself mumbling, “it’s called a bond.”

“Though if you ask me, you two did go on about like you were together, even if Rose was constantly denying it. I’m not blind, y’know. And it wasn’t just me, either. Ask anyone around here, watchin’ you too making doe eyes at each other.”

“ Doe eyes?! I don’t make doe eyes,” the Doctor denied, though he still was trying to process the whole beginning of her speech. “Wait, did you say alien voodoo?!”

His words fell on deaf ears.

“And don’t get me started on the constant touching. The both of you had to realize that normal friends, platonic friends, don’t carry on like that, clingin’ to each other.”

“Clinging?” He didn’t even have it in him to scoff anymore. This was exhausting. Jackie pushed past him, handing him a cup of tea as she went. “Erm, thank you.”

“Use a coaster,” she told him, pointing at the couch.

Forget the beast in the pit, this was hell.

“Right, yes, of course,” he nodded, quickly sitting down and placing his mug on a coaster as ordered. Ugh.

Still, it was better than the interrogation she’d given him the last time they’d been here. And at least this time Jackie didn’t seem to expect him to say anything at all. Though she had asked him a question. And people called him rude!

His mother-in-law took a seat in the chair with her own mug, giving him the same skeptical look that she had after catching him modifying her toaster. Thankfully, before she could start up again the door opened and Rose walked in.

And she was breathless, panting, having obviously ran all the way from the TARDIS.

And from what little he could get from her over the bond he could tell that she was incredibly stressed and anxious.

But she looked gorgeous.

Her hair was done in soft curls, and she had on a TARDIS blue dress and the same little pink heels she’d worn when they’d failed to see Elvis. He really needed to get back around to that. Might not have time until their second honeymoon, though. Too many different plans. The Doctor couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Mum!” she exclaimed, immediately wrapping Jackie in a hug.

“Finally! Thought we’d miss our first appointment! I told him, wait ’til you’re done before gettin’ you here, especially if he’s going to cut it so close. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t pass his test, you know, the way he lands willy nilly, and a year late, don’t think I’ll forget that! Who in their right mind woulda given him a time machine if they knew he’d be carryin’ on like that,” Jackie nattered on.

Not a word, he bit out to Rose across the bond and was actually quite pleased with the resulting mental laughter (despite the fact that it had really been a dire warning).

“Sorry for takin’ so long. I think we should still be fine. We’re getting a cab, right?” Rose asked, and they both began heading right back out of the flat.

The Doctor picked up his tea, blew on it, and put his legs up on the coffee table.

“What are you doin’?” Jackie asked him, holding the door open. “Shake a leg!”

“What?”

“You’re coming with us!”

He looked at Rose, who mouthed ‘sorry’, pointed at her phone and shrugged before remembering that they could speak telepathically.

Mum never said she expected you to come with us until the texts from yesterday, she explained, and I was in such a rush to get here by the time I got those ones that it slipped my mind to tell ya.

“Oh … right,” he tried to cover, “I just … thought we were having tea. And you know how great I think your tea is, Jackie. Saved the world, your tea did. Well, helped my regeneration sickness, which amounts to the same thing in that situation. Free radicals and tannins, have I properly explained the benefits to you? You see-”

“Wait a minute!” Jackie interrupted him, staring at Rose’s hands for some reason. “Where’s your ring?!”

Ring? Ring. Oh bloody, fucking hell.

“Oh, we haven’t-”

Her mother didn’t even give Rose a chance to speak. “We’re to go to all of these places, wedding planning, and he didn’t even have the decency to get you an engagement ring?!”

Exchanging rings. He knew that one! It was a human marriage custom so pervasive that it remained a part of their wedding ceremonies throughout time and space. And he’d forgotten.

“We just haven’t had a chance to go looking yet, that’s all,” Rose lied. “If anyone asks, we’ll just say it’s off gettin’ sized.”

Jackie huffed before stomping out of the flat, his wife trailing behind. The Doctor sat for another moment, positively baffled at how this day was going, then bounded out of the flat after them. When he caught up to Rose, he took her hand and pulled her to a stop.

“I’m so sorry,” he told her, and really, he didn’t even know where to start.

“Doctor, it’s fine, I don’t care about rings and stuff.”

“Not just that, though. But still, that too! I’m sorry for- for not doing this properly, not dating you, jumping straight into everything. I waited too long to tell you how I felt, and now I’m completely rubbish at doing all of these human courtship and marriage things, and you deserve-”

“Doctor,” Rose interrupted him, putting a hand over his mouth. “Y’need to stop listening to my mum. We’re fine. We were fine before you left the TARDIS, and we’re still fine. Better than fine, even. We’re fantastic. And let’s get this straight now, I’m the one who gets to decide what I deserve.”

“And what’s that?” he asked, words muffled by the hand she still hadn’t moved.

You, she declared over their bond, barriers dropped so that a tidal wave of love and affection poured into him.

And then he effortlessly nudged her hand out of the way, pulled her even closer, and kissed her.

The Universe was not kind. It owed him nothing. If anything, he owed it. Because it gave him her.

The hand not clutching her lower back tangled into her hair as he deepened the kiss, his own barriers crumbling as he tried to express everything he was feeling in that moment. Her arms wrapped around his neck and it was perfect. Everything was perfect, and the Doctor had no idea why he’d ever thought otherwise.

“OI!!”

They sprang apart as if a bucket of water had been poured over them.

“None of that!” Jackie yelled from across the way. “Get a move on! I swear, this is gonna be worse than all of the lovesick mooning.”

He was mortified.

Rose’s barriers had already locked back into place, her face red.

Tell your mum I’m off to get your ring, he projected before running back to the TARDIS as fast as he possibly could.

#timepetalsweek #ficandchips #ten x rose #dw fic #dw fanfiction #timepetals #tenrose #fandom: doctor who #pairing: rose x doctor #fic: the doctor's domestic nightmare #my fic #I THOUGHT I WOULD BE LATE BUT I'M NOT #and also no i do not know why i am #doing this event like nanowrimo on steroids #this is my life and these are my choices

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the-a-j-universe · 4 years ago

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Alright, cool. I finally have a guaranteed length of time that should be long enough to go through all of these, so let’s do this. I know the plan was to have me address each ask one at a time but that didn’t work out lol so I’m just doing it all at once. I’m also turning it into a post so anyone who wants to can follow along with my journey.

I’m also gonna copy/paste the text of the other asks instead of screen capping them because copy/pasting is faster lol.

I’m gonna put a pic of each one here, give my thoughts, maybe a goofy rating (I dunno), and then pick my favorite. Just so y’all know.

* Tanawy's entry n.1 in the Dragon Quest monster showcase: the all-time classic Slime. When asked to design the Slime like the standard goop monster they usually were, Toriyama said "no" and a legend was born, now cute slimes are more popular than the disgusting goop depiction. Its cousins and variants are numerous and some are very different from one another so as a bonus here the criminally underutilized Mottle Slime and its evolution the Mottle King Slime.

See, I don’t even need to look this one up. Here it is:

But let’s be real, you guys didn’t need to see an image of this dude either. I love this thing. I never went through a period where I thought of the grosser oldschool slimes. This thing has always been what’s come to my mind when I here the word in an RPG context. Which, considering my zero experience with DQ, really speaks to this thing’s popularity. I am actually going to remove this one from consideration, though, for that reason. I just have too much of a bias towards it. I know it too well, and all variations seem to be equally great. It’s a 10/10, though. Truly iconic.

Get the rest after the cut!

* Tanawy's entry n.2: Originally a boss monster, here is the Golem. While not the sharpest tool in the shed, these brick-made guys can be quite loyal, with a child-like personality, downright adorable (I will never forget you Goldirox) but their strenght in battle must not be underestimated. And since St. Valentinus is around the corner here a Chocolate Golem variant as a gift. Friendship chocolate mind you, from a dude to another 😄

I like this guy. He reminds me of a couple oldschool Yugioh cards. They’re all bad cards, but I’m nostalgic for them so that help’s this guy’s chances. I don’t know that I buy him as a threatening boss, though. He seems more like he’d be your big stone pal.

The chocolate variant is absolutely adorable.

8.5/10 overall for both.

* Tanawy's entry n.3: Here are two members of the Machine Family, first the Killing Machine. These relentless hunters are merciless and they are constantly upgrading, so models with different modifications are plenty. They even come with garden sprinkles. Then there is the Mecha-mynah, who puts a different spin on the mechanical Cuckoo-bird motif. Careful these guys have razor-sharp wings and they selfdestruct when cornered.

Alright, not so much for the second one, but the Killing Machine also reminds me of, like, a half dozen Yugioh monsters. Did Kazuki Takahashi just like ripping this franchise off or something? Either way, these are both good designs, but they don’t really work for me that much. They’re a little...plain? I guess? I guess I like my machine creatures rougher and with more detail. 7/10.

* Tanawy's entry n.4: Next are my deepest fears (exaggeration) if they were real; the Waspion, half wasp half scorpion, and the Claw Hammer, Half hammerhead shark half metal scolopendra, all nightmare. Continuing with the caravan of creepiness, here is the Bona Constrictor, just get it away from me. This next one, when i saw it for the first time i yelled "WTF is That?!" here is the Ulcer, a walking awful pile of rotting flesh.

I am NOT a fan of the Ulcer. That thing’s ugly, and not even in a fun way. 0/10.

I like these other guys, though:

The Waspion is literally just Gligar from Pokemon, but aside from that I like animal/creature mash-ups. And the Claw Hammer is a pretty unique one. 9/10 for the whole lot.

* Tanawy's entry n.5: Beef or chicken? Why choose when you can have both? Here is a heavyweight of the Bird Family the taurine Bullfinch. But dont forget your vegetables, or else they might turn into these Plant family monsters, the eggplant Woebergine, the bellpeppers Capsichum and the cucumber Cruelcumber. Also, meet the Peahooter, these guys pelts their targets with arrows taking advantage of their higher ground.

Okay, we’ve got another mash-up creature here in the form of the Bullfinch, but I’m not feeling this one as much. It’s worth, like, a 6.5/10, maybe. The Woebergine and the Peahooter are both pretty interesting. The Peahooter is kinda cute in a weird way and the Woebergine is delightfully derpy. They both deserve approaching an 8/10. I’m not really feeling the Capsichum at all though. They get a 5 or a 6/10.

* Tanawy's entry n.6: Who doesn't like a good dog? Well maybe not these guys from the Beast family: the Chainine who will ensnare their preys with their collars, the Putrefido, who is no longer alive, the Abracadabrador, who will eat your bones, the Crocodog, a levitating (yes this thing floats in the air) dog-crocodile hybrid and finally the Jackal Ripper (long lost relative of Wolverine or just imitator? More at 11 on the news)

Hey now. That’s not really fair to the other entries. Every one of these dudes:

Is a very GOOD BOI. I think I like the Abracadabrador the least. He’s a little too un-dog-like compared to the others. 6.5/10. The Chainine and the Putrfido are both the perfect blend of cute and weird. I like them a lot. They get 7.5/10. Jackal Ripper is a badass 8/10. He’d be cooler if he was wearing jeans. I LOVE the Crocodog, though. 10/10. Perfect. He just looks like a friend, but he also looks like he could kill my enemies. Which is what I like in a monster.

* Tanawy's entry n.7: Here is a taste of Japan with the Boppin’ badger, the most Tanuki-like monster you will ever meet; Then these guys don't need consent to give everyone within their reach a smooch, here is the Lips. Also, beware of these horses of the underworld, the Equinox where they probably hangout with these other lovely fellows, the Hellspawn. Speaking of which here is the demon Teeny Sanguini. Cute eh? Not when it evolves in the Bloody Manguini. Thankfully not everyone of them does that.

Okay, you can’t fool me. That first one is just a regular animal.

Jokes aside, though, I’m not really feeling this bunch unfortunately. The Hellspawn just reminds me too much of mutant can Steven, the Lips is a little boring, and the Equinox, while I like the wordplay in its name, and while it’s cool in principal, is too busy. I’m just not feeling the designs of these guys overall. 4 or 5/10 for the whole lot. Though the Teeny Sanguini is closer to a 5 than a 4.

* Tanawy's entry n.8: There are two species of monsters, the Pips and their cousins the Conks, who constatly imitate the classic classes of the humans, like warriors or priests, but this time the little rascals have gone a little farther and here they are copying the DQ8 4 main heroes in the Trodainian Conklave, the DQ4 heroes in the Zenithian Conklave, the hero of DQ1 and the 3 heroes of DQ2 in the Alefgardian Conklave and the hero of DQ3 with 3 other companions in the Aliahanian Conklave. Cute.

Okay, I love the idea of these things. They’re cute, they fit right in with the general aesthetic of the franchise, and they have a ton of personality. I’m not gonna post pics of all of them because there’re so many, but they deserve ~9/10 collectively. They’re very good.

* Tanawy's entry n.9: Not enough dragons? So here's three: what do you get mixing a T-rex, a dragon and a vicious axeman? An Hacksaurus that's what! Then the Drakulard. Don't be fooled by their mole these portly fellows mean business. Another chubby dragon, the Jargon: dragonic masters of the clay containers, these guys URNed their right to use jar puns and they will make sure you remenber it, even if they have to crack your pot.

Okay now these are more what I was thinking when I heard the title Dragon Quest.

I like the Hacksaurus the best outta them. He just looks nice. They’re all good, though. They fit the art style perfectly, and resemble each other just enough that you buy them all being related creatures. 8/10 overall, though the Hacksaurus is a little above the others, with the Jargon being a barely at the bottom of the barrel. Or the jar I guess.

* Tanawy's entry n.10: The only story entry in this showcase, because just look at him, it's the only DQ big baddie (at least in english) to actually call themselves "the Demon Lord" It's Orgodemir, specifically it's true form which is the first photo you find in the gallery at almost end-page. Let me just tell you this, Orgodemir is a d*ck of the highest level. The brain it's actually an eyelid for a giant eye by the way. Happy Nightmares.

HAHAHAHA. I know there are other forms for this guy, and this is probably not the reaction that anyone who played the game would have, but I just can’t take this guy seriously. He looks like Edward Cullen with bat wings. HAHAHA. 8/10 ‘cause it made me laugh.

* Tanawy's entry n.11: And lastly, in a category i like to call "I can't belive these are real", its the Funky Ferret; yes he and his cousins do exactly what the image shows. And the almost copyright-infinging Owlbear, yes they did not even try to distance themself from D&D with this one (ok they have a variant but is not saying much). There were others in the last category, but since they REALLY did not age gracefully to the modern standards of "acceptable" i prefered not show them.

I love Owlbears, they’re just such iconic fantasy monsters at this point, so he gets a solid 8/10 rating by default. It’s a pretty original take, too, focusing on the cuteness potential of the creature over the badass potential. I like that.

The Funky Ferret, though...

With a name like that this guy coulda been so cool. But he’s just a pretty generic design blended with a fart joke. What a bummer. 3/10.

And there we have it. Probably not exactly what you were thinking but I hope you like it. I don’t hate any of these guys. Some are more boring than others, but there’s something neat about each of them. I like the ones that take badass ideas and make them cute while remaining intimidating best out of all of them, and I think the Crocodog does this best with the Hacksaurus as the runner up. Crocodog is definitely my favorite of these, though. He gets the Best Good Boi award of Bestness.

Orgodemir gets an award, too, though, the “made AJ spit out his rum and Coke laughing” award. It’s not the most coveted, but it’s something.

I know this is a long one, and y’all may not want to reblog, but what do any of my followers think of these funky dudes? Leave a comment on this post or reblog with your answer in the tags!

#long post #my dumb thoughts #dragon quest #monster showcase #trademark

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