#and I’m on ao3 too

[sarellathesphinx]

What’s all this about tumblr maybe shutting down. Anyway I’m SiriuslyEmily literally everywhere but here

[color-ns]

Sometimes tweeter people know their stuff- this is the right kind of toxic angst I want to read.

[frownyalfred]

hey just for the record, if you’re on r/ao3 and keep running into these kinds of comments on bookmark related posts — it’s not a good take. calling someone’s writing “slop” and saying it deserves criticism for being bad BECAUSE it’s posted publicly might seem like a nuanced take, but I promise it isn’t.

yes, sometimes us writers get a little too obsessed over a cryptic comment or bookmark; no, that doesn’t actually mean the solution is to say whatever you want in them because authors “deserve” your honesty. 

I know we’re in a touchy time for readers and writers, but comments like these are NOT kind, refreshing, or nuanced. they’re just kind of mean and discouraging.

[comatosebunny09]

Before AO3 goes down for maintenance, and before you flock to Tumblr to complain about how much it pains you to be deprived of your blessed, mood-enhancing, pillow-gnawing fics, make sure the writers of said fics know how much you enjoy them. It’s as easy as saying, “I like this. ☺️”

[malone-fanart]

ok just a dumb lil comic. this has been on my mind since watching the movie lmao 💀

[kindrasy]

fighting tooth and nail to get out of a swamp called “some guy with a YouTube channel said this thing I liked was stupid and I took that to heart at 12 and refused to write it”

Now I’m 17 and you should all just write what makes you feel things because there WILL be an audience and YouTube guy probably doesn’t even know the definition of aglet anyway

[sonadowsupremacy]

Sonadow — Rockstar Au

“CRUSH” by sharkghosts

We follow Sonic, an aspiring musician who moved to the big city of Soleana to break into the industry, but it's been anything but smooth sailing as he's dealt with the ramifications of an abusive relationship that still haunts him and his career. Nevertheless, he's determined to follow his dreams of releasing his own music with the help of the talented people he's met so far. After getting close to the band members of his favorite group, Crush 40, headlined by none other than Shadow himself, Sonic realizes that he and Shadow have more in common than just their taste in music. But as they get closer, things get messier between them as they compete against each other in the battle of the bands to obtain the Master Emerald, the award that guarantees any record label, all while their strangely intertwined pasts are slowly revealed...

[picture credits: @/bonniebcwlz on ig]

[mockingjaylad]

I’m gonna explode someone actually

[imfinereallyy]

Steve and Eddie don’t get together for awhile—in fact it takes them longer than most people expect. It’s not filled with miscommunication and longing though. Instead it’s a slow build to falling in love.

Steve and Eddie do grow close after the spring break from hell. In fact, they would come to consider each other best friends (second only to Robin, as under the friendship agreement she made Eddie sign). But they fall into an easy sort of friendship, finding more things in common than just the kids eventually. They share a love of weird, eclectic movies, cars, weird food recipes, and even books. They teach each other about the stuff neither one would ever dream to be interested in.

Eddie learns about sports intensely. To the point, he joins a softball league with Steve and Robin (she is only team manager, there to look at the pretty girls who signed up).

Steve learns all about music. To the point he wants to learn an instrument. He wants to learn guitar at first, wanting to share Eddie’s love for it but finds it’s not for him. Instead, he takes up the drums, much to Robins's reluctance.

It’s simple between them, despite their history (both upside down and non-upside down alike). It’s not something Steve has with anyone else, seeing as most of his friendships involve a complexity that he can’t even understand himself.

It goes on for years, supporting each other through nightmares, heartbreak, grief (Eddie), and a sexuality crisis (Steve). They get tattoos together, take odd classes at the rec center together, and eventually share an apartment together with Robin in Chicago.

Robin tries to convince Steve for years there is something between him and Eddie. But Steve denies it, and he really means it.

Eventually life changes, their friendship stays strong but things are bound to take new shape.

Steve moves out to live with his boyfriend of a year. Eddie helps him, even cooks dinner for the two of them in their new apartment. They’re all friends, they hangout all the time.

Months pass, things seem okay, fine. Then, a year and change passea. Things are a little sour. Steve and Eddie’s friendship stays strong, but Steve seems to have problems with his boyfriend. Eddie listens because he cares; he loves Steve, and Steve loves him. They’re best friends; they would do anything for each other.

Including telling your best friend that maybe this guy isn’t good for him.

Steve doesn’t react poorly, just small. He shrinks in on himself. Like he knows Eddie’s right but doesn’t want to agree. Instead, Steve smiles sadly and moves on.

But Eddie doesn’t hear from Steve for a month.

It drives him insane; they haven’t gone that long without talking since Eddie was in a temporary coma. He’s worried he might have cost himself a best friend. Robin had moved in with her girlfriend a month before his talk with Steve, so Eddie was left to his own devices in his new one-bedroom apartment. Spiraling about Steve.

Robin said he was fine, and Eddie should believe her but he can’t help but worry.

He almost cracked and went to Steve’s apartment, keys in his hands ready to storm the castle.

Except….

When Eddie throws his apartment door open, there’s Steve, hand raised, ready to knock.

He looks exhausted, with two bags under his eyes and one bag in his hand.

“Hi.” Is all he managed to croak out before falling into Eddie’s arms, which had been open and ready for the sweet boy.

After the crying had calmed down and they had moved to the couch, Steve explained everything.

How Eddie had been right, Steve and his boyfriend weren’t good for each other. How he had been isolated from everyone except Eddie and Robin. How the last month, the fighting had only escalated. How things had slipped from just arguments to unforgivable words and actions.

How Steve was worried that everyone would choose his boyfriend instead of him.

Eddie rushed to ease his worries and offered to beat the guy up. It made Steve laugh.

Steve tells him he doesn’t have anywhere to go, but he’ll get out of his hair. Maybe go to Robin’s.

Eddie insisted Steve stayed and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

That’s when things start to slowly change.

Steve promises to look for a new place right away, Eddie says it’s no rush.

The first night, Steve tries to sleep on the couch, but Eddie pushes him to the bedroom, insisting they can share. It’s not like they haven’t before; it’s nothing new.

Except it is.

Suddenly, the days pass, and Eddie can’t fall asleep unless Steve is beside him. And Steve can’t stay asleep if Eddie isn’t there.

It starts off on respectful sides, but pushes into tangled limbs in the middle of the night, to finally just snuggling into each other's arms even before they fall asleep.

Everything else is the same….yet somehow different.

It’s like every little thing they do together brings a new kind of joy. Even boring things like doing the dishes or laundry seem so much better with Steve around.

They start to know each other’s habits, even more so than before, with how little space there is now in the apartment. Steve knows the exact place where Eddie always forgets his keys and the way he stretches his spine when he’s tired versus the way he does when he’s bored.

They fall into a lovely pattern of warmth and a type of love they can’t quite place.

They both don’t talk about it, but Steve ponders on it often. Why it feels so different now? After all these years? It hits him one day that it isn’t because he loves Eddie any less or more than he did a few years ago. No, it’s because they both have grown, and changed from who they used to be.

And so has the love between them.

Steve and Eddie, at 19 and 20, could never have the love they have now for each other, for the type of people they were then. Their love was platonic, wholesome, and what they needed then. Steve could not love the kind of man Eddie was then, and vice versa.

Now though, grown and changed but somehow still the same, their love was something new and bright.

Steve only smiled at the realization, not in any rush to move forward. Just enjoying his time with his Eddie.

Eventually, though, Steve stops looking for a new place, and Eddie never asks him to leave. Everyone refers to the apartment as theirs and not just Eddie’s. Robin stops making sly comments and instead smiles happily, almost fondly, at them when they gravitate toward each other. Eddie asks for Steve’s advice on how to deal with the landlord. Steve opens the mail regardless of whose name is on the front. Months pass, and suddenly, Steve is turning 28, and Eddie has a cupcake with a singular candle on it.

“Make a wish, sweetheart.” Eddie says, the soft glow of the flame lighting up his face.

Steve smiles softly at him and leans in. It’s not a risk, in the end, to kiss Eddie. It should be nerve-wracking and scary to change their friendship. But it’s not—it’s easy.

Their lips are soft as they lightly kiss. Steve whispers against Eddie’s mouth, “Don’t want a wish. I have everything I need.”

Eddie huffs a laugh across Steve’s lips. He says nothing—he doesn’t need to. Instead, Eddie leans in again, capturing Steve’s mouth once more.

[getthembees]

see my thing with batfam fanfiction is i really don’t care that much if cass isn’t involved. sometimes the story someone wants to tell doesn’t involve her, or the cast is becoming too bloated, or she would solve the plot and they can’t figure out how to write around it. whatever. i get it. it’s fanfiction and you’re writing for fun and sometimes you don’t want to write out all the logistics about why cass isn’t there or xyz (although i wish her being in hong kong wasn’t the constant excuse esp when the timeline doesn’t match up). my real problem is when i’m reading a fic and cass actually has a role to play in it and she’s just wildly wildly out of character. Just the same borrowed fanon one dimensional characterization that gets passed around everywhere. I would rather you not include her at that point, if all you know is her watered down fanfic counterparts. Like what’s the point? If you don’t know a lot about the character… why even bother writing her? isn’t that harder for you?

My main frustration is also that cass is probably one of if not the easiest batfam character to start reading. part of that is thanks to stupid Dan Didio for character assassinating her and then shelving her for years but literally you just have to read Batgirl 2000 and you’re pretty much set. It’s one solo comic. It’s also a good solo comic. I’m literally begging you guys to read Batgirl 2000

[justiceiscalling]

i feel like something that’s not talked about enough in YJ (show) is the amazing plot line of roy (will) being a fucking clone. like oh my god to 13 year old me that was such a fucking plot twist—guarantee if i watched it now it would still be a plot twist to me.

like, wills a clone, he’s handling it terribly (like one would) but he knows he has to find the real roy, he won’t ever stop looking until he finds the real roy. and the heartbreaking part? he’s the only one.

ollie and dinah and dick and basically everyone could not care less about real roy. dick literally said ‘we did the math, we never even met real roy’ and just decided roy wasn’t worth looking for. and, kind of understandably (but also not), ollie gave up. but you know what’s really the worst part? the real icing on the cake? will finds him.

he finds roy.

will has to tell roy that his family, his team, gave up on him. nightwing and artemis and kid flash and them—they’re excused. because why would people who don’t know him look for him? but ollie? dinah? he met them. roy built relationships and partnerships with them and the only person who looked for him was a fucking clone. and not because the clone loved him or missed him, because will had felt guilty for stealing roy’s life.

i’m so sad how that story line kinda fell flat. we could’ve gotten so much more. i wanted to see roy adapting to this, i wanted to see more of will searching for roy. im not even going to lie, i wanted one of them to struggle with addiction. i think roy and wills characters are just so fucking interesting.

imagine a fifth season where real roy meets red hood jason. imagine how well they’d fucking bond. because, i’m not 100% sure but didn’t roy not age? so he’s around jason’s age. and, anyway, you just know those two have so much in common. they both also missed out on so much with being dead and kidnapped. plus, it takes away from the thing most people hate about the jason and roy friendship. in YJ, roy was never friends with dick. dick was friends with will, made it abundantly clear when he stopped looking for roy.

and since YJ’s pretty open to LGBTQ aspects… well i think you know what im implying. i’d be happy either way. jason and roy make good best friends—i really do think they could also make good more than best friends.

so, in conclusion, the roy-will clone storyline was the best fucking thing i’ve ever seen, even if i do wish they expanded on it more. if there’s ever a season five, YJ creators i am begging you make that happen, it’s literally the most incredible opportunity and would be such an amazing friendship (or more than friendship) to develop to show ‘hey real roy’s life isn’t all that shitty!’. of course, as a side plot to the whole wally’s-been-stuck-in-the-speed-force-and-isn’t-actually-dead storyline.

[ambriolett02]

Sketch is finally lined! This is the cover photo for my fanfiction The Skeletons’ Castle on AO3. ^^ Tagged below if you wanna give it a read!

Rated: Explicit

Main Overarching Themes: Dating Sims, Angst, Horror, Reverse Harem, Reader Insert

Was a lot of fun drawing the skelebois in styles that are similar to their originals while also incorporating some new elements from the story!

I’m sure you guys can see the webtoon inspo~ 🌝🫣

THE SKELETONS’ CASTLE

[bubbiethesaur]

LRA Doodles part ??

[rogata453]

Sirius „and I was never good at telling jokes, but the punch line goes: I’ll get older, but your lovers stay my age” Black

[crazy-fangirl2524]

All of us want to read “books that are different from the books we like but also exactly like it” and that’s why we have fanfictions. That’s why we love fanfictions. It is literally the book we love but in a different font.

[inkyrainstorms]

Martian Stan AU - Aftermath & Discovery

The Beginning (1), Aftermath (2) (here), The Journals (3)

Extra! (The Apology)

Ford didn’t know how long it took for him to pry himself off the floor, but it felt like hours later when he managed to trudge his way upstairs, eyes burning and throat raw. There was new blood on his knuckles, and Ford couldn’t remember if it was Stan’s or his own. He’d tried to scrub the blood off of the portal, but most of it had been too high and Ford was so tired.

He couldn’t fall asleep in the basement, he chanted to himself, again and again and again and it only occurred to him once he stood swaying at the top the of the stairs, that is didn’t actually… matter, anymore.

It didn’t matter what Bill did, or didn’t do.

The portal was broken beyond repair. His brother was dead.

The journal is gone. his mind whispered insidiously, and he couldn’t remember if he’d always been so cruel to himself, or if it was a byproduct of Bill. You got what you wanted, Sixer. How does it feel?

Ford hobbled to the bathroom as fast as he could manage, and hurled his guts out into the toilet. When all that came up was acrid bile, though, and Ford wondered idly when we he last ate. It didn’t matter.

None of it mattered, Ford decided firmly, hands clenched on either side of the porcelain bowl so hard that they looked bloodless in the harsh white light. It didn’t matter what he felt, or didn’t feel.

Not anymore.

The journal was gone. That was a good thing, it meant that the portal could never be rebuilt again. Stanley made an honorable… he. He’d made an honorable sacrifi—

Ford hunched over the toilet and heaved again. Nothing came out.

Impossibly, time kept moving.

Ford was left drifting in the current, from room to room, machine to first aid kit to paper to specimen to paper to circling the door of his lab again and again like an anxious sentry. He didn’t process any of it, and eventually, the door was the only thing left in the house that felt truly real. It was the only mystery left that Ford could pay any real mind to, and most of the time he wanted nothing more than burn the whole thing to the ground.

Sitting against the door, head leaned back and staring at the ceiling, Ford searched his mind for something. Anything.

A plan, a goal, fuck, he’d take the will to actually get out of the house and get groceries despite the constant chance of being watched at this rate. There was near nothing left to eat in the cabinets that wasn’t rank with age, and Ford knew he was wasting away like this.

But there was nothing. No part of him cared.

He knew he’d always had the wildest aspirations as a kid and as a young man, that he’d never stop reaching for bigger and better heights, but the light had blinded him with its promise, and now he’d fallen. He’d fallen so far.

He’d said Icarus didn’t flap hard enough, when Fiddleford tried to warn him of his own hubris all those weeks ago. Now he was just glad he wasn’t an English major, because it had taken him all of this just to realize that Icarus had found the sun, been embraced by the promise of warmth, and burned for it.

Trust no one.

Ford traced an idle finger against the freshly bandaged burn on the underside of his hand.

And no one should ever trust you.

…

The worst part, Ford thought to himself as he brewed another pot of coffee and searched for a clean mug, was the uncertainty of it all. There was a grief in loss, of course, but not knowing could be so much worse.

Stanley could still be alive out there, among the creatures of the Nightmare Realm, all alone. He could be dying. He could be dead. He could be sitting on the other side, waiting, hoping Ford could open the portal and bring him home—

Ford slammed down the sole clean  coffee cup he had left hard enough to startle himself, and then sighed.

He’d have to go clean up the remains of the portal, eventually. Before he fell asleep and Bill…

Ford poured out the coffee and leaned heavily against the counter as he took a sharp swig. It burned the whole way down. 

What did he have left that Bill wanted? What reason did Bill have to keep him around if his research was beyond saving, if he couldn’t be threatened or tortured into complying anymore?

The next time he fell asleep…

Ford didn’t know what’d happen to him, and despite everything, damnit, Ford didn’t want to die. He couldn’t let Bill win, couldn’t become another footnote in the history of the world because he was just another one of the poor schmucks who fell for Bill Cipher’s lies.

Taking another gulp of liquid courage, Ford pulled his coat tight around himself and marched to the door of his lab before he could talk himself out of it.

Forget not sleeping in the lab. Ford couldn’t sleep at all until he found a way to sever Bill from his mind for good. Project Mentem had been a bust last he’d checked, but it was worth another shot. What else hadn’t he tried? There was something… a protection spell? A charm?

Ford contemplated his options all the way down the stairs, one hand keeping him steady on the wall while the other held his mug. 

He still wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted yet, or what his next step was, but Ford could do this. He just had to secure his mind, like he’d planned, and then get rid of the blasted portal once and for all. Nothing had changed.

Nothing had changed. Nothing had changed. Nothing, nothing, except that Ford felt hollow where there must’ve once been something warm and vital in his chest. He didn’t know if he’d ever feel warm again. He didn’t deserve to.

Ford remembered a detail about sleep deprivation, as the elevator neared the basement level again and his heart dropped in time with the doors hissing open. Hallucinations were a common byproduct of the resulting sensory overload and exhaustion. They could take auditory or visual form, though visual hallucinations were a more common symptom by over 52%.

That was the only explanation he could conjure for the faint singing that echoed through the dark, cavernous sub-level before him. 

“It’s not real,” Ford whispered to himself, hands a vice around the coffee mug. He felt cold. “Auditory hallucinations are an expected and well documented symptom to experience in conditions less dire than these. Focus on your intellect, Stanford. Focus, focus, it is not real.”

For a long stretch of time, seconds, or perhaps minutes, Fords feet were glued to the floor of the elevator. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what he said or did, the singing, or the static, remained steady and quiet. 

It wouldn’t go away unless Ford made it. 

Finally, Ford forced himself to creep into the basement, and then the control room to set his mug down on the desk. The music was louder now, more distinct here than it had been before. Had Ford left a radio on down here? Was that it?

Holding his breath, Ford crept around the trashed room, checking behind spare sheets of metal that had been propped up against the walls, kneeling to look under the control panels, and then behind them too. All the while, the music droned on, buzzing and humming and settling under his skin like an itch. 

-any- wind blows—

It got louder as he neared the very back of the room, the words filtering through the humming static and becoming clear. Ford couldn’t deny it anymore. That was a voice. He shivered hard, jolting like ice had been pressed to the back of his neck, and hurried forward. 

-really matter to me… To me. 

There was a pile of debris, in the back of the control room, farthest from the door where he’d entered. Stanley must’ve crashed into it, when Ford and him had been… when he’d…

-just killed a man —a gun against his head…

Ford slowed his pace, staring down at the dented metal plates and machinery that had fallen loose in a heap on the floor, the stray wires and screws jutting out of the mess every which way. Slowly, Ford sank to his knees and pressed his aching palms onto the cool floor beneath him.

He could hear the singing now. Warbling, staticky. Familiar.

-Life had just begun, and now I’ve gone and thrown it all away.

Ford choked on his next inhale, thin and trembly as it was, and searched through the wreckage with wide eyes. 

There. Nestled between a dented panel with half its screws undone, and a jumble of wires and smaller panels of sheet metal, was the source of the sound. 

For a long, long moment, all Ford did was stare.

Oh mama… oh ohh oh. Didn’t mean to make you cry.

If I’m not back again this time tomorrow…

Ford’s hands trembled as he reached out, carefully prying the radio out of the scrap heap and holding it up in the dim light.

Carry on, carry on…

As if nothing really matters…

The voice faded out. Static.

Ford set the radio down on his lap, gently, as it would shatter into a million pieces otherwise, and pressed a trembling hand to his mouth.

“Stanley?” Ford choked out, and it was like trying to breathe glass. But he had to know, he had to, because— because…

He sat there, dully staring down at the radio Fiddleford had cobbled together months ago, when they’d still been in the implementations stage of the data and blueprints they’d collected, when the preliminary tests had begun. A device to send and collect waves and other information from beyond this dimension without actually opening a rift.

And here it was. In Fords hands, dented and scratched and still whole despite everything. Ford had turned his sights completely to the portal before the it’s completion, since Bill had deemed the entire endeavor a waste of time and energy and an ineffective outlet for his genius.

Fiddleford must’ve completed it, back when he was still just as enthralled in the project as Ford was. He missed his old friend, but Fiddleford was likely back home by now, in California to try and reconnect with his wife and child. As bitter as Ford was, he hoped Fiddleford was successful. His old friend deserved as much and more. 

There was no reply to Ford’s question, except, Ford brought the radio to his ear and strained to listen through the faint static. Was that… humming? 

Doo- doo doo, yeah, no poindexter, I‘m done, man. That’s the last song of the evening, I’m not paid for overtime. 

Moses, wish I were getting paid for this.

Ford jumped, wincing at the sudden burst of noise loud enough to make his ears ring, then processed what Stanley, because that had to be Stanley, had said.

“Stanley! Where are you? Are you in the Nightmare Realm? You must be… what sort of method did you find to transmit your signal? Are you al—“

But Stanley continued speaking as though he hadn’t heard him. A thrill of irritation  went through him. Was Stanley ignoring him? Was this some kind of petty revenge tactic?

When’d that song come out anyway? ‘75? 

He hummed.

Sounds about right.

Ford shook the radio and bit back a growl, before he remembered that the technology in his hands was damaged and sorely in need of a repair and upgrade, and loosened his grip again. He set it down in his lap.

“Stanley, I need you to take this seriously, please, for once.”

Wow, that song was everywhere back then, wasn’t it? I remember thinkin’ Ford probably liked it when it came out, wherever he was. The nerd was probably in college.

“Stanley?” he tried again, but he wasn’t expecting a reply anymore. Stanley soldiered on, rambling about everything and nothing and Ford could almost hear the smile in his voice if it didn’t sound so tired. 

Hell, where’d I first hear it? Must’ve been over at a gas station in… eh, Kansas? Somewhere over there, the big ol’ middle states. 

We sure aren’t in Kansas anymore.

Ahh, those were the times. Me, the open sky, and so, so much dirt in my hair. Seriously, where did the dirt come from. I roll around in one haystack and suddenly i’m fishing filth out of my hair a month later.

Stanley went quiet again, before he laughed. 

Aw man, I actually like this story. Buckle in folks, and I’m taking us back to that weirdly cold summer day in Kansas, where I had to steal 5 prized chickens. For some reason.

Look man, when someone pays you a hundred bucks and tells you he wants chickens, you don’t ask questions. 

Anyways, I’d been-“

For the past few… well, it had to have been days since Stanley fell through the portal by this point, if Fords state was anything to go off of, Ford’s mind had been eerily blank. He’d been a hollowed out shell of his former self, a ghost in his home and life that held onto the living plane by only the barest threads and pure spite.

It was like a switch had flipped. Ford’s fingers drummed on the outside of the radio as he forced himself to his feet, mind whirling at a hundred miles per hour and making calculations and theories and discarding some and contemplating others, and he was nearly jittering as he walked out of the control room entirely. He’d need to find a way to secure this side of the portal from Bills influence, recollect his journals, and then, he was bringing his brother home.

He stopped just before he got into the elevator and turned around to stare down the wrecked portal that loomed overhead. The once perfect inverted triangle, now ruined and warped nearly beyond recognition.

He grinned in a way that was more just like baring his teeth.

“You may be a god, Cipher, and you may think you can control me, but never forget. I am a scientist.”

The portal stood dead as it had been, but Ford didn’t care. He whirled around and stalked into the elevator. He felt more awake than he had in days. And he had research to collect and a demon to banish.

Stanley was still talking, as the elevator began to shudder and rise, and Ford’s adrenaline shot began to ever-so-slightly wane. Something about… attack pigeons?

-And when I finally think I’m in the clear, I duck around one of the hay bales and come face to face with, and I’m not kidding here, a cow wearing heavy duty armor, like a helmet and shit the guy in ‘Nam would wear. It even had holes for the ears!

There was a strange sound then, and Ford realized with a start that it was coming from him. He was laughing. It wasn’t even than funny, really, but something about Stan delivery made Ford wheeze. 

When was the last time he’d laughed? It must’ve been before this whole thing started, when he’d been with Fiddleford or B—

The laughter died in his throat. Oblivious to Fords inner turmoil, Stan kept on jabbering.

And there I was, 5 chickens smuggled into my coat and in my bag —and if you’ve never tried to carry 5 chickens, never do, it’s hard as hell and not worth it at all— staring down ol’ Bessie. 

And then, because this fucking farm couldn’t get any weirder, the cow started moo-ing like it was setting off a tornado siren, and all the other cows in the whole place started mooing in sync too. It was fucking terrifying man.

They must’ve been calling the attack pigeons, because those suckers came back, and they started dive-bombing my sorry ass, and really, that was when I reached my limit.

I dove into the hay bale like a damn football player going for the end line, and even though it was by far the itchiest thing to ever happen to me, it saved me from death-by pecking so I’ll take take it. 

The itchiest, of course, save for my stint in Albuquerque.

Ford could almost imagine Stan shaking his head as he paused again. With a start, he realized he was still smiling.

Just. Don’t try selling pillows in Albuquerque is all I’ll say.

Stan gave an audible shudder. 

So many feathers… And itch powder. The itch powder didn’t help. 

Ford couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out of him at that.

Tags! (I’m sure I’m forgetting someone, pls tell me if you want to be on the list! Or just follow the tag that also works) @aroace-get-out-of-my-face @pleasantartisanhottea @littlelilliana15 @empressofsamoyeds @pinesfamilycatsau

Super Epic Secret Surprise!