#but looking at where we are right now with the story

[thesweetestofdreams]

black cat confessions

poly!marauders x reader

warnings: patching up bruised knuckles very pg allusions to violence

a/n Times are tough so please enjoy a sleepy drabble with a slightly whimsical reader who will always defend her boyfriends

“Hello gorgeous, where’ve you been?” James asked as you came into the boys’ dorm. It wasn’t like you to be so late, unless of course a portrait got to talking. You could never turn down a good story, no matter how many times you heard it. 

“Detention,” you said. This garnered the attention of all three of your boyfriends. Remus set down his book, he had been trying to read instead of worrying about you, and Sirius ceased spinning his wand in his hand. James sat up from where he was laying on his bed. Oblivious to their shock you dropped your bag onto the floor.

“Detention?” James asked at the same time Sirius said “You’re joking.”

“Yeah,” you said, sounding almost as confused as they were. 

“May we ask why?” said Remus abandoning his book. 

“Well Barty said that black cats were bad luck, which is rather rude.” You fell onto Remus’s unmade bed, arms flopping on either side of you. 

“And how did that turn into detention for you?” Sirius asked as patient as could be, a trait reserved almost especially for you.

You rolled onto your stomach yawning as you rested your chin on your hand. “I told him that was hardly true but he wouldn’t give it up.” You were interrupted with another yawn. “Then he said the worst bad luck was black dogs. You could never be bad luck, Siri.”

Sirius could pretty much feel himself melting. James, as endearing as you were, was practically on the edge of his seat ready to find out what on earth their sweet girl could do to warrant detention. Remus was getting tired just looking at you and he had to fight the urge to join you where you lay.

“Well then he started talking about werewolves and of course he had nothing nice to say and he was looking right at me, so I punched him.” Just like before you were completely oblivious to the shock your statement caused. 

“You punched him?” Remus asked, and despite your tired eyes being closed you could hear the smile in his voice. The boys shared a conspiratorially prideful look. 

“He wasn’t mad. I think he thought it was funny.” 

“Sounds like he had it coming,” Sirius said, fully in agreement. 

“Professor Slughorn was mad though,” you mused.

“Merlin, what I would have given to see his face.” James laughed at just the thought. 

“I bet he went red head to toe,” Sirius added. You smiled in tired amusement. The sound of their laughs made your chest buzz, warm and full. 

“Punching people hurts,” you said looking down at your hand.

The energy of the room shifted as the amusement died down. Remus was already making his way to you, pulling your hand into his lap as he sat on the bed next to you. You didn’t fight him. He tsked at the sight of your knuckles and your fingers were dry and cracked. He turned them over in his hands ever so gently. 

“Slughorn made me wash all of the potion bottles,” you offered in explanation.

James wordlessly pulled a small first aid kit from Remus’s nightstand, while Sirius grabbed a set of pajamas they kept for you. Caring for eachother was a well practiced routine. It was an achingly good feeling to be taken care of. 

Remus spread dittany over your knuckles and any deep cracks, careful never to press too hard. James pulled off your shoes, and Sirius turned down the lights grumbling softly to himself when James reminded him of an early morning quidditch match. 

“You can sleep with me then,” Remus whispered loudly, teasing as he softly wrapped a bandage over your knuckles.

“Now this is just torturous,” Sirius groaned from his bed. James threw a pillow at him across the room. “I’m keeping this.” 

After some coaxing from Remus, you summoned enough willpower to stand and change into your pajamas. From across the room, you saw James dive into bed with Sirius who held the pillow above his head. James pinched at Sirius's waist earning a withering look from him that quickly dissolved into lazy smiling kisses. 

Finally you were lying in bed with your head on Remus’s chest. You could hear his heartbeat thump beneath you, the steady rhythm and warmth lulling you to sleep better than any lullaby. You weren’t helped by the slow circles he drew into your back. 

“Thanks for defending me, brave girl,” Remus said into your hair. 

Fighting a yawn you said, “you would have done the same for me.”

He would have done worse for you, and he would spend the rest of everyday grateful for the love he’s found.

[fastandcarlos]

Little Boy Growing Up : ̗̀➛ Daniel Ricciardo

summary: you can't contain your emotions as your son attends nursery for the very first time

As the car came to a stop, a lump ran down your throat as you studied the building that you had toured a couple of weeks ago. Next to you, Daniel was just as nervous, knowing what was about to come, not quite sure he was fully prepared for it. 

“Shall we go in?” You smiled, turning back in your seat to look at your son. “This is the place where you’re going to be staying today sweetheart.” 

“Let’s go!” Your son cheered, hurrying to get out of the car. 

Daniel climbed out and walked around to help him get out, unfastening her seatbelt and lifting him out of her seat. “I can’t believe my baby boy is growing up.” 

“Daniel,” you chuckled, climbing out of the car too and giving your son a hug. “He’s only going to nursery, he’s not going to prom or anything just yet.” 

Since you agreed to start taking your son to nursery, Daniel had been relatively calm. But now that he was here, he was struggling to contain his emotion and not let it get the better of him. 

“Baby,” you whispered, pulling your son closer to you. “Do you think you could go and give daddy a really big squeeze, I think he’d love that right now.” 

Your son did as you asked, sprinting over to Daniel and leaping into his arms. “Are you excited?” Daniel asked him, forcing a smile onto his face. “What am I going to do without you by my side today?” 

“You’ll have fun too,” your son assured him. 

Your eyes were drawn to the tight hold that Daniel had on him, refusing to let him go. “Come on, we can’t stand out in the car park all day,” you tried to tell them both. 

Daniel reluctantly let your son go as you took his hand, Daniel deciding it was best for him to wait in the car. A member of nursery staff was immediately at the door with a warm smile, especially as she saw how excited your son was. 

“Hi sweet boy,” she chimed, kneeling down so that she was at his height. “It’s lovely to have you here with us.” 

Your mouth opened to say goodbye, but your son was already off and beginning to explore the place. You handed his bag over, standing in astonishment at how easily he took to nursery, quickly finding the toys that he liked and talking to the other children who were with them playing. 

“It’s nice not to deal with tears for once,” the staff member joked. “I’ll make sure to keep an extra close eye on him today and see how he settles in. If we have any problems, I’ll make sure to give you a call.” 

You waved goodbye before heading back across to the car. As you opened the door, Daniel quickly wiped underneath both of his eyes before smiling across at you. 

“Everything good?” You asked, watching Daniel closely. His head nodded, but the look on his face told you a completely different story.  

You stayed still for a moment before reaching across and taking a hold of Daniel’s hand, silently reminding him that you were right there with him. 

“I didn’t think I’d find this so hard,” he admitted in a whisper, “especially as he’s found it all so easy.” 

“It’s nice to know he’s excited,” you responded. 

Daniel hummed in agreement, “I’m glad that he was looking forward to this, I guess I just wasn’t looking forward to losing him.” 

“You’ve not lost him Daniel, you’ll see him in seven hours.” 

The two of them had always been undeniably close, when Daniel was home every second was spent with your son, hanging out, doing whatever they wanted to do, making as many memories together as possible. 

Daniel had worked hard on preparing your son for nursery, prepping him with skills, conversation starters and teaching him about sharing too. Daniel wanted his son to be liked, he knew that he would be popular, he was a mini Daniel after all. 

Your hand squeezed against Daniel’s tightly, “I bet he would want for us to enjoy ourselves whilst he’s at nursery you know Daniel.” 

Daniel’s eyes widened, “I can’t believe I have to spend my day with you now, can’t I go and get him back and hang out with him instead?” 

“Excuse me, we’ll have a great time together.” 

Daniel’s eyes rolled as you hit against his arm, encouraging him to put his foot down and get driving. You knew that he was only messing with you, but at the same time, you knew no one could fill the void that your son left in his life when he wasn’t around. 

“He’s going to learn a lot being at nursery, he’ll grow as a person,” you told Daniel. 

“There’s plenty that I could teach him though,” he argued. 

Your head shook as Daniel continued to protest. Although he had taught your son plenty, there were some things in life that a parent couldn’t teach their child. 

“He’s going to be around kids his own age, not around stinky drivers who are sweaty and gross,” you teased, “and it means we get more time together too.” 

Daniel’s eyes narrowed back across at you, “there’s nothing wrong with hanging out with racing drivers, we actually happen to be pretty cool guys.” 

“I know, I was stupid enough to marry one of them.” 

As the two of you pulled out from the nursery, you could see Daniel arguing with himself. There was a small part of him that wanted to run in and take your son, but he knew that he couldn’t, eventually listening to you and driving away, as much as it killed him. 

Despite his protests, Daniel knew that nursery was going to be good for your son, it was a chance for him to see more, do more, meet new people, everything that Daniel had ever wanted for him.  

After a few minutes he began to relax again, leaning back in his chair as he focused on the road, trying to forget about the fact that he had lost his little man for a few hours. 

“What are we going to do now that it’s just the two of us?” You asked him. 

Daniel’s eyes flickered across to you, “well, seeing as I’ve essentially just lost a child, there’s a bit of a void in my life now that needs to be filled.” 

“You’ve not lost your child, he’s just growing up, that’s what we all do Daniel.” 

His shoulders shrugged, but still his eyes looked suggestively across at you. Now that your son was growing up, the two of you had more time on your hands again, and Daniel definitely wasn’t happy just settling on having one child. 

“We’ve been blessed with one incredible child; would it be so bad if we thought about another one?” Daniel quizzed, offering you a wide smile. “Doesn’t now seem like the perfect time to start thinking about these things, like you said, we’re not getting any younger.” 

“How long have you been planning this?” You chuckled, shaking your head across at him. “We’ve just said goodbye to one child for the day and now you’re planning the next one.” 

Daniel’s shoulders shrugged, an innocent expression etched upon his face. “I’m not necessarily thinking about having a child straight away, but it’s important that we get lots of practice in for it beforehand.” 

“Is that really where your mind is at? You’re impossible sometimes Daniel Ricciardo.” 

“Hey, look at you! Can you blame me?” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑����𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[mostly-imagines]

Who Needs Heaven? : Safe & Sound

jason todd x fem!reader

aka your daughters learn what happened to jason

warnings: nonspecific discussions on how jason died

(1) the drop-in

The sound of water splashing under toy boats and fish fills the small room.

You ring the washcloth out over the suds, Rory’s idle hands scooping up the excess. She entertains herself with the slowly dissolving bubbles between her fingers as you fill up your cup.

“Put your head back,” you tell her, nudging her forehead.

She does, squeezing her eyes shut.

You pour the cup of water over her head, combing through her hair. You refill the cup again as she pipes up. 

“Mommy,” she says with a casual lull in her voice. 

You pour it out again, making sure to rinse the shampoo at her roots, “Hm?”

Her hand comes up to wipe the stream from off her forehead, “How did daddy get that scar?” 

“Well, daddy has lots of scars,” you say carefully. “You know that.”

She shakes her head, “Littler scars. He has a big one though, right here.” 

She points up and down her torso. 

“What happened?”

You take a breath, eyes focused on the dissolving suds. “What happened…”

She continues on, “He said scars come from when you get hurt and the bigger ones are bigger hurts. How did he get such a big hurt?”

“Um...” She’s quite young to hear that story, especially coming from you. Your older daughters have an awareness of what happened, though it’s never been formally discussed. You think Mia knows what the autopsy scar is and the twins definitely know he died at the very least. You’ve been made aware that there’s been…discussions at school about who their dad is and how he one day died and then years later magically reappeared. You and Jason had decided that you would talk to them about it eventually, but only when they were old enough to not be completely traumatized hearing it.

You just hadn’t assumed that day would creep up on you like this.

You sit back, tense. “Did you ask him that?”

“No…” she says gravely. “I don’t wanna make him sad.”

You nod, trying to collect your thoughts. How can you steer away from this without attracting more questions? 

“Do you know what happened?” she asks, scanning your face.

You do your best to reset your expression to neutral.

You start without really knowing where the sentence is going, “We…we can talk about it later…”

Rory tilts her head, “Not now?”

You shake yours, “Not right now.”

That’s enough to appease her curiosity for the rest of the bath, but you know with that one, it won’t last long.

You’d gotten her dressed and sent her on her way, but your mind stayed heavy the whole time.

You walk downstairs slowly, hands still damp from the bath. As you turn the corner from the stairs you find Jason, reading contentedly by himself in the living room.

You cross the room without hesitation, climbing into the spot next to him on the couch. He doesn’t need to look up, only adjusts the position of his arm so its draped over you, pulling you into his side.

“So…” you start, “Rory was asking about your scar..”

He turns away from the book, looking at you with serious eyes. “What did she say?”

“She wants to know how you got it,” you tell him. “I didn’t tell her, but she didn’t want to ask you either.”

“Why not?” He asks quickly, face brimming with anxiety.

You shake your head, calming his worries. “She said she didn’t want to make you sad.”

He relaxes a bit at that, taking in the information.

You break the silence after a minute, quietly telling him, “I think it might be time to talk about it.”

He looks dejected, eyes on the floor. “They’re still little..”

“I’m not saying tell them everything right now, just…acknowledge it.”

“I don’t—” He sighs, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell them that.”

You think for a moment, nodding. 

“Tell them how you told me. Just…more kid words.”

He still looks resigned at the idea so you continue, “You know how to talk to them. Just tell them what you want them to hear. They’ll listen.”

He nods, eyes low. “Okay…”

You stand up, and he grabs your hand as you rise, pulling himself up too.

You give each other one more confirming look before calling up the stairs, “Girls? Come here.”

There’s a ten second delay before a scuttle of footsteps starts down the staircase, arriving with a low-liveliness, nearly bedtime energy amongst them.

The second you’re within sight of them, they’re keen that something’s not right.

“What’s going on?” 

“Is—”

“Everything’s alright. Nothing’s wrong,” you tell them. “We just want to talk to you for a minute.”

Your words don’t do much to ease their minds, but after a moment they slowly gather onto a single couch. They’re all squished in together and Rory’s half on top of Anna and Laine, the latter of which can barely move. Still, there’s no complaints to be heard, only an air of seriousness throughout the room. 

Jason clears his throat, though he has trouble looking at them, the easier option seeming to be the carpeted floor. 

“Alright,” he starts with a deep breath. “So my, uh, my Y scar…”

The air in the room drops the second the words are out, the girls all quiet and listening closely. You can tell this is something they’d been wondering about for a long time.

“When I was younger and I’d just started doing the, uh, special job my brothers and Bruce do…” He takes another breath, “Some things happened that shouldn’t have and I got hurt..”

“What things?” Ryan asks.

“I…I got tricked by a bad guy and…I just got hurt.”

It’s uncharacteristic for the girls to all look so dejected and serious like this. Goes to show that you were right—they do have an understanding of what happened.

Anna is the first to pipe up. 

“Did you die?”

“Anna—”

“It’s alright,” Jason interrupts. He collects himself before eking out, “Um…yeah, I-I did.”

He’s still stuck on those words and you have to silently push for him to keep talking, so as to not give their imaginations time to run wild.

He takes the hint, stuttering, “But, um, it’s complicated, but I came back and—”

Laine interrupts this time, almost teary-eyed.

“Are you going to die again?”

Jason shakes his head quickly, “No. No, honey, not for a long time.”

It’s quiet for a moment as they process, sorting through the details into something their minds can understand.

Rory looks on edge, wide-eyed, as she asks, “Are you a ghost?”

“No, sweetheart,” Jason answers calmly with a shake of his head. 

That seems to calm her anxiety more than anything else.

“Are you better now?” Laine asks. 

Jason nods, “Yeah, I’m a lot better now.”

Ryan looks skeptical at the choice of words. “How did you…get better?”

He takes a shaky breath, “Well…your mommy helped me a lot. And then you helped me some more. And now…now I’m all healed.”

None of them seem to really understand, but they accept the answer anyways.

The next question is from Anna. 

“Is the bad guy in jail now?” 

Jason only momentarily stutters in his response, but pulls it together nicely. 

“It’s not something you need to be worried about. I promise. Nothing like that’s going to happen again to me or you or anyone.” 

This appears to appease most of the concerns flying around in their heads. 

He continues, “We can talk about it more when you get older, but…

You take the queue, nodding Rory and Lainey your way. 

“Let’s go get ready for bed, okay?”

You nudge the younger two upstairs, who, to your surprise, go without resistance.

You give Jason one last glance before heading up the stairs, happy to see him much more relaxed than he was at the start of this conversation.

He’s left downstairs with his eldest three girls, each nearly bursting at the seams full of their thoughts and questions. 

Jason thumps down on the couch between them, a heavy breath following.

The trio watch him quietly for a moment before Anna speaks.   

“I know what it is,” she tells him somberly. He looks at her with more melancholia than he would’ve hoped for.

She continues, “There’s autopsies on my show sometimes.”

Right, her show. The X-Files.

Jason nods, a bit remiss at the idea that she knows.

From his other side, Ryan pipes up. 

“Did it hurt?”

He shakes his head, “No, I-I wasn’t…” 

Wasn’t alive. He doesn’t want to say that, though. 

Ryan nods, understanding anyways. “Did it hurt when you died?”

He hesitates before answering, wavering between lying to protect their minds and telling them the truth. In the end, he decides that you’re right, they can handle it in small measures. 

“Yeah. It did, a little,” he confesses. ”But like I said, that’s not going to happen again.”

From behind Ryan, Mia speaks so softly Jason almost misses her words. 

“I’m sorry.”

He looks at her, brow furrowed. “For what?” 

“That that happened to you,” she says. Her eyes are filled with an equal sadness to his and it breaks his heart. Even more so that her words are so clearly meant sincerely.

“Oh.”

It’s all he can manage to say.

He was only a little older than Mia when his life had been taken away from him and he’d been forced to reset everything he ever knew. And now, all these years later, he sits here surrounded by his children, his world that he was given a second chance to create. His children that don’t see a monster when they look at him, don’t see the scarred giant that he sees. They just see their dad. 

When they were still young they’d started getting almost excited whenever they got a scar from playing too hard because it made them more like him. It took Jason years to just bear the thought of his scars, but his girls look at them like art. Even when they know he got them in bad ways, they pour out nothing but affection. No disgust, no fear, no hate. Just love.

His eyes close and his face falls in his hands, overwhelmed by the idea of his children being such angels, despite being products of him.

“Dad? Are you okay?” 

He nods, face still covered. His voice is muffled as he says, “Yeah. Yeah, sweetheart, I just, um…” 

His words die off with little fight, and when his hands drop his eyes are red. 

Anna, who’s usually compulsed to only touch emotion with a ten-foot pole, is the first to wrap her arms around him, holding him tight. The gesture takes him by surprise, especially from her, and he tenses briefly before deflating like a balloon. Mia and Ryan are quick to follow suit, basically dog-piling over his opposite shoulder.

“It’s okay, dad. We love you. And your scars,” Ryan tells him. 

Oh, they think he’s sad.

Hell, thirteen years ago he would’ve thought he was sad. He only started to understand his feelings after his first daughter was born. He doesn’t tell them he’s not sad, doesn’t tell them that he’s crying because life slapped him around and then gave him everything he could ever want five times over. 

Instead, he just nods, pulling them impossibly closer.

who’s your fav daughter

[zepskies]

Restless Nights

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: After a tryst you instigated in the backseat of his Baby, you and Dean have started something new. He’s just not sure that you’re as “all in” as you claimed to be.

AN: As promised, here's a bonus one-shot to follow Maybe More Than Enough, though it can be read as a stand-alone. This is based on a request from @lacilou, one of my lovely Patreon members!

Bonus! It fulfills the @spnfanficpond monthly prompt. (Can’t give it away until the end though!)

Request: A Dean story based on the song “I Remember You” by Skid Row.

Word Count: 1.2K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, fluff, implied mentions of sex, bit of a twist ending… 

Dean woke to the sound of pouring rain hitting the roof of the bunker.

It must’ve been some torrential downpour, because it took a lot for him to hear anything of the outside world from inside this place. Good thing the old heaters kept out the January cold, too. Nothing worse than frigid rain.

Blearily he cracked his eyes open, unearthed an arm from where it was tucked under his pillow, and carefully raised his phone to check the time, trying not to let the light from the screen burn his retinas in the still dark room.

4:00 a.m.

He groaned. Goddamn it.

He turned over onto his other side to face where you should’ve been lying next to him. He frowned when he saw nothing but the sheets pulled back and a dented, empty pillow.

No matter how he fought it down, a small tinge of worry, and the beginnings of disappointment churned in his gut. His brows furrowed.

Did you regret it already?

After his first make out session with you (turned more session) in the backseat of his Baby, you two struck a tentative agreement to figure what this could be—more than hunting partners, allies, and friends. Despite the fact that you kissed him first (a fact he didn’t easily let you forget), afterwards, you’d been a little hesitant about what came next.

“We take it day by day,” he’d told you, with a sizzling kiss that stole your breath. “All I know is…this feels good.”

It felt right. You had definitely agreed with that.

Dean sighed through his nose, turning back onto his other side. It wasn’t unusual for him to be a light (restless) sleeper, but the handful of times you’d joined him in his bed had been beginning to make his nights calmer. He was actually starting to sleep through until morning.

What’s more, after years of looking into your eyes and seeing all the possibilities of what if, he was finally getting to make those images solid, and real. He could touch them, taste them, feel them under his calloused hands. He finally had you for real.

He looked past your empty spot in his bed and didn’t see your phone, or any of your rings on the nightstand. They were the first things you put on in the morning, and the last things you took off at night.

If those were gone…

His disappointment was settling high in his chest now; an ache approaching pain.

Until he heard the light sound of bare feet padding back toward the bed. Your hand slid gently up his arm, and after the surprise wore off, the corners of his lips tugged upwards. Your hair was a bit wild and frizzy. It tickled his neck and shoulder when you leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“What’s this?” you whispered, swiping two fingers between the crunch in his brows. Dean relaxed with a small smile.

“Nothin’,” he claimed. His voice was deep and rough with sleep. “Had an appointment to get to or something?”

You smiled and settled into bed, embracing him from behind. He turned onto his back and welcomed you over, with an arm curling around your waist. He rested his hand on yours when it smoothed across his chest.

Subtly glancing down, he didn’t find any of the silver you wore on the daily, including the ring with a small turquoise stone he’d bought you a couple weeks ago, on a hunt in Denver. That one, you now almost never took off.

“I put them away in a drawer,” you said, wiggling your fingers under his hand. Your hand felt dry, and a little like you'd been handling something dusty. Had you been up reading in the library again, lost track of time? “When I woke up, I saw one fell off the nightstand. Have a feeling it had something to do with the bedframe knocking against it.”

At that, Dean couldn’t contain his lazy smirk.

“My bad,” he said, sounding anything but sorry.

You laughed, shaking your head. You still laid a kiss below his shoulder before you settled back down. He gave your waist a gentle squeeze, pressing a kiss of his own to your forehead. A deep breath fell from between his lips, and his eyes closed.

A question was on the tip of his tongue. Where you were, why you got up. Was it something he could help with? Or was it one of those moments you needed to have alone, not unlike the times you gave him to settle with his thoughts, after a hunt gone sideways. If it was important, you’d level with him, wouldn’t you?

So he let it be.

In the morning, you somehow once again managed to get out of bed without him feeling it. He didn’t hear you either. Curiosity led him down the hall and glancing inside the cracked door of Sam’s room. It was empty, his running shoes gone from the side of his bed. Dean rolled his eyes.

All right, Lance.

Oh, wait, that was biking. …Whatever.

Dean’s next path inevitably took him down to the kitchen. His stomach was already percolating—in need of good coffee and (hopefully) good food.

The smell wafting from the kitchen surprised him, however. Cinnamon apples?

He turned the corner, and there he found you.

The fuck?

You looked a bit of a mess. Your hair was thrown up into a haphazard bun, and you’d stolen his apron. Though in his eyes, you made it look better, the white fabric hugging around your curves like you were Rachel Ray or something. You were frazzled when he came downstairs, but happy to see him. You beckoned him over and sat him down at the small kitchen table.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on here?” he asked, eying you curiously.

“Just stay there!” you called from the kitchen. He heard you opening the oven, cursing when you nearly dropped something.

What the hell were you doing baking before 9:00 a.m.?

He turned to ask you what was going on (and if you needed help), but before the words could come out of his mouth, you came over and carefully set down the pie in front of him. The rich aroma, the golden flaky crust, the flecks of cinnamon and glossy apples peeking out from the divots in said crust—it all had Dean’s mouth watering, and his shocked gaze fixed on the shiny pastry.

He startled a little when he felt your hands on his shoulders, sliding part of the way down his arms. You kissed the side of his head.

“Thought I wouldn’t remember, did you?” you teased. “Happy Birthday, baby.”

Dean’s throat constricted. He tried not to show it, but your gaze gentled when he finally met yours, like you were seeing through all his layers anyway. He realized then what you were probably working on last night, and he really couldn’t fucking believe it.

He’d forgotten his own birthday. Couldn’t see much use in celebrating, when year after crappy year…

But he closed a hand over yours on his shoulder, and he brought your hand to his lips.

Every word he couldn’t yet say to you was etched in that single gesture.

AN: Short and angsty sweet! lol And the monthly prompt was "pie!" 🥧 For Dean of course. 😂

Hope you guys enjoy this one! 💜

Join Patreon 🌟 For early access to new stories, bonus content, first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Dean Winchester One-Shots 

Dean Winchester Masterlist 

Main Masterlist 

Dean W. Tag List

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl

@wincastifer @iamsapphine @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester

@spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91 @sanscas

@globetrotter28 @adoringanakin @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean

@agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2

@deansbbyx @sarahgracej @chernayawidow @mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @ajjustice

@my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester @rizlowwritessortof @samslvrgirl @tortureddarkstar

@tmb510 @syrma-sensei @artemys-ackles @malindacath @mrsjenniferwinchester

@jc-winchester @charmed-asylum @fromcaintodean @k-slla @jackles010378

@deanbrainrotwritings @urfav-tz @alwaystiredandconfused @mrlonelycat @deans-daydream

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @aylacavebear

@jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kmc1989 @ghostslillady @siampie @rubyvhs

@winchestergirl2 @a-lil-pr1ncess @winchester-whiskey @spnbabe67 @cheynovak

@megara0224 @yoongi-holland @illicithallways @perpetualabsurdity @deansimpala

@jessjad @impala-dreamer @k4marina @atenea585 @king-of-milf-lovers

@g0ldfishd00dles @10ava01 @sixxteenbullets @tayl0rfanatic @everything-is-all-clear

@masked-lost-girl

[faithshouseofchaos]

Blanket fort — Lando Norris x reader

Fluff

Word count

Tagging - @astraeaworld @ashy-kit @alwayzbeenale @67-angelofthelordme-67 @amatswimming @a-casual-romantic @bblouifford @badassturtle13 @bbtoni i @barcelonaloverf1life e @charlesf1leclerc @charlesgirl16 @crashingwavesofeuphoria @dreamyreveriie @clowngirlsstuff @dark-night-sky-99 @dudenhaaa27 @eugene-emt-roe @embrosegraves @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @llando4norris @hangmandruigandmav @hollie911 @jeffs77 @ironcowboycopnickel @lipringlrh @lightdragonrayne @lollypop90907 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @moss-on-tmblr @natailiatulls07 @omgsuperstarg g @oconswrld @otako5811 @purplephantomwolf @scotlynaurora @toasttt11 1 @uluvjay @vellicora @venusisnothere @anedpev @thenerdysimp

Lando opened the door to his apartment, letting out a tired sigh as he set down his keys. He was expecting a quiet evening with Y/N after a long day, but as he glanced around, he immediately noticed something unusual.

The lights were dimmed, casting a warm glow throughout the room, and in the middle of the living room was a makeshift fort—complete with blankets draped over chairs and pillows piled inside. Twinkling fairy lights were woven into the blankets, making it look like a cozy, magical hideaway. A projector was set up in front of the fort, aimed at the blank wall where an old favorite movie of his was paused, ready to start.

Y/N popped her head out of the fort, grinning at his surprised expression. “Happy Birthday, Lando!” she called, waving him over.

A smile spread across his face as he took it all in. “No way… Did you build this?”

“Yep!” She looked a little too proud of herself as she scooted back, patting the space beside her. “I figured you could use a night to relax, so I brought back the ultimate childhood comfort: blanket fort, movies, and snacks.”

Lando laughed, kicking off his shoes and crawling into the fort beside her. “I haven’t done this since I was a kid. This is amazing!”

Y/N leaned forward, handing him a bowl of popcorn. “Thought you might like it. I even brought all your favorites: popcorn, brownies, gummy bears, and….” She reached over, pulling out a bottle of soda, “the super sugary stuff you pretend not to drink anymore.”

Lando grinned, taking the soda from her. “You know me too well.”

They settled in, blankets piled high around them as the movie started playing. Y/N kept glancing at Lando out of the corner of her eye, watching as he got lost in the movie, his face lighting up with every funny or nostalgic moment.

At one point, he caught her watching him and nudged her with his elbow. “You’re staring,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes, chuckling. “Can you blame me? You look like a little kid right now.”

“Well, I have you to thank for that,” he said, leaning in to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Best birthday ever, by the way.”

As the night went on, they stayed curled up in the fort, sharing stories about their childhoods. Lando recounted wild tales of go-kart races gone wrong, and Y/N told him about her misadventures building forts with her siblings.

Lando looked at her, smiling softly. “You really went all out with this, didn’t you?”

She shrugged, a little bashfully. “I just wanted to make you happy.”

“You did.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “And I mean it—you seriously outdid yourself. I didn’t even know you could make a fort this sturdy.”

“Oh, please. This is an engineering marvel,” she joked, feigning pride. “We could probably live in here if we wanted to.”

He chuckled, resting his head against hers. “Well, let’s at least stay here a bit longer.”

They settled back into a comfortable silence, watching the movie as the twinkling lights cast a warm glow around them. By the time the credits rolled, Y/N had dozed off, her head resting on Lando’s shoulder. He looked down at her, feeling a warmth he couldn’t quite put into words.

Not wanting to wake her, he stayed put, perfectly content, thinking that if he could freeze time, this would be the moment he’d choose to stay in forever. With a soft smile, he whispered, “Thanks for making today special.”

Y/N stirred, smiling sleepily up at him. “Anything for you, birthday boy.”

[seitmai]

He was also going to miss you desperately. The honeymoon stage was still going strong, and quitting you cold turkey right now was going to be rough. There wasn't a moment when you and he were together that you weren't touching each other.

That man had an addiction 🤭

"I'm going to have to wear all of my honeymoon goodies for my own entertainment for months," you whispered, tits spilling out of the lace as you arched your back. "No, no, no," he scolded softly, tossing his shirt aside and unzipping his jeans. "Don't be a tease, Baby."

He is begging

"I'm always thinking about you." Your words were an ego boost.

She just knows what her husband needs

You stopped taking birth control a few weeks ago. The two of you decided to go with the flow and see what happens next. It felt nice to keep that kind of pressure out of the bedroom, especially when Bradley knew he'd be just as content with six kids or none. It's not like he needed anything besides you, and he told you that every single day.

No risk no fun lol

I also missread it at first as "Bradley was content with six kids or MORE" hahah 😅

You eased yourself up and stood next to him, assessing the blankets and his open duffle sitting on the floor against the wall. "What if I told you this was all just a ploy to keep you here with me instead of getting you ready to leave?" "Then I would say I love you."

That's a ploy he would gladly fall for

Instead, you did the best you could to make it home to your computer where you could type paragraph after paragraph to him, letting him know what was going on back in California. You sent him a plethora of photos, some of which didn't include your face as a precaution. You even went into detail about how much you missed him at bedtime. And the best part was, you got just as much, if not more, in return. His days were largely repetitious, but there was always something new he was telling you about. His gym selfies never disappointed, and neither did the paragraphs where he told you in an abundance of detail how much he missed waking up next to you.

They just are a true match

Your students had been anticipating it for weeks, and you had some eager faces looking back at you on the Monday morning when you stood at the front of your classroom and said, "We're about to embark on a flight that will take us through our math, science and language arts classes for weeks to come. As we learn all about aviation, we'll be writing to a naval aviator on an aircraft carrier, and we'll even get to visit a local naval base for a field trip. Let's start out by learning the definitions of a few words that we'll be using frequently."

I feel like the aviation part of the curriculum is gonna become legendary really quick, the next year you can already hear the new fourth graders excitingly talk at recess or breaks: "I'm in Mrs Bradshaws class and my older sister told me around this last year they started with aviation. And a real aviator visited them! And a super cool mechanic!!" And another one adds, having heard the conversation topic from the younger students before then in the bus line: "It's all true! And you get to visit the base. And Mrs wasn't always called Mrs Bradshaw, she had a different name but she married the aviator we wrote letters!" And another one joins in: "And if you go to the library events Mr Marty is always there. He is also in the Navy and he is the best Mechanic that's what Mrs Bradshaws husband said. He is the best at fixing planes!"

It's just gonna turn in this whole legendary thing with more and more outlandish added stories after a few years hahga

He considered skipping dinner in favor of collapsing in his bunk, but he could tell he was already losing weight. You weren't around to keep him well fed, so when his stomach started to rumble, he made a point to head for the noisy mess hall. 

Give that poor man some good food!

When he went to the small window in front of the mail center and gave his name, a box was thrust into his hands. Bradley's heart leapt when he saw the return address was from Mira Mesa Elementary School. He should have been expecting this, but he was suddenly happy you kept it as a surprise. A smile curled along his lips.

What a great surprise 🥰🥹

To MY US Naval Aviator (Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw)

Oh I love them and I will miss these two 🥰

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 29 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: While Bradley thought it was unfair of the Navy to mess with him while he was still in his honeymoon phase, he certainly did love getting mail from you.

Warnings: fluff, adult language, smut, Bradley being husband material, 18+

Length: 1700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

That autumn....

As soon as you led Bradley inside after he drove the two of you home from Salvatore's, you ran your fingers along his cheek and looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "You had a lunch picnic with Thai food on the beach. And then you got pasta for dinner. Do you have any other requests?" you asked, using your strict classroom voice which made Bradley's mouth water. 

"I do, actually," he whispered, melting into your touch. "How about some of that lingerie you picked out in Paris?"

The honeymoon was almost three months ago, but not an hour went by where Bradley didn't reminisce about the days he got to enjoy the view of the Eiffel Tower and the view of your ass while he fucked you. It always left him with a smile on his face. But his smile started to falter when he remembered that he was shipping out tomorrow, and he wouldn't return until after the New Year. At least he would be allowed to communicate with you this time. That was the only thing saving him from almost certain despair.

"I think that can be arranged," you told him with a smile, unbuttoning your top as he stumbled along after you. "But you have to wait out here until I'm ready."

Bradley groaned and leaned on the wall in the hallway, watching you bounce along to the bedroom without him while you laughed. He didn't mind waiting a few minutes, because he was going to love whatever you were about to do. He was also going to miss you desperately. The honeymoon stage was still going strong, and quitting you cold turkey right now was going to be rough. There wasn't a moment when you and he were together that you weren't touching each other.

He hadn't even finished packing his duffle yet, because he didn't want this to feel real. He was planning on doing that tonight with your help, kissing you as you folded up his shirts and lined up his socks on the bed. But that was going to have to wait a few minutes. You opened the door to reveal the sheer nightie hugging your body as you pressed your thighs together and bit your lip.

Bradley was pushing away from the wall, heading right for you. "Gorgeous," he murmured, pulling you against him and walking you backwards to the bed. "Baby, I'm going to miss this too much."

His heart was pounding in his ears, hands full of your lace covered ass before you dropped to the bed on your back. "I'm going to have to wear all of my honeymoon goodies for my own entertainment for months," you whispered, tits spilling out of the lace as you arched your back.

"No, no, no," he scolded softly, tossing his shirt aside and unzipping his jeans. "Don't be a tease, Baby." You grinned as you turned your head to the side, and Bradley stepped out of his remaining clothing before he climbed in bed. He was hovering above you, lips pressed to your ear as he whispered, "You'll wear the goodies for me, too. And you'll email me every mouth watering photo that you take of your fingers shoved deep in your pussy."

"Bradley," you whined, bucking your hips up until he had to hold you in place with his big hands on your body.

"I want a little treat every time you touch yourself. And I want to know that you're thinking about me."

"I'm always thinking about you."

Your words were an ego boost. Just the kind of thing that would get him through this work assignment and back into your arms. "When you're alone and thinking about me, I want some pictures, pretty girl. A whole inbox full of them. Some sweet ones," he crooned, kissing his way along your jaw to your lips. "And some dirty ones," he added, mouth teasing your skin until your nipple was between his lips and you were whining. He sucked gently, tugging until his lips popped free, leaving you begging for more with your fingers in his hair.

You stopped taking birth control a few weeks ago. The two of you decided to go with the flow and see what happens next. It felt nice to keep that kind of pressure out of the bedroom, especially when Bradley knew he'd be just as content with six kids or none. It's not like he needed anything besides you, and he told you that every single day.

"I'm going to miss my wife," he crooned, guiding his cock inside your slick perfection as soon as you spread your legs. He rocked in and out of you slowly, enjoying the feel of your body and your voice and your sweet scent. Memorizing everything. Telling himself he could get through the time away from you as long as he could come back to this.

It was so late when Bradley finally left the bed. You and he were wrung out and fucked out. Fingers laced together, barely moving, unable to go for a fourth round. "That was wild," you laughed when he finally rolled away from you, dizzy as he stood and looked at the wrecked bedding around your naked body.

"Shit, Gorgeous." He was laughing, too as he said, "I still need to finish packing in the next five hours."

You eased yourself up and stood next to him, assessing the blankets and his open duffle sitting on the floor against the wall. "What if I told you this was all just a ploy to keep you here with me instead of getting you ready to leave?"

"Then I would say I love you."

----------------------------------

Waking up for work in a bed that was half cold was not your idea of a good time. You shivered every morning that Bradley was gone, especially when November brought with it a chilly bite to the air. The commute from Coronado to Mira Mesa and back each day felt like a punishment when you knew you weren't going to arrive home to a husband who was excited to see you and hear about your adventures in teaching.

Instead, you did the best you could to make it home to your computer where you could type paragraph after paragraph to him, letting him know what was going on back in California. You sent him a plethora of photos, some of which didn't include your face as a precaution. You even went into detail about how much you missed him at bedtime.

And the best part was, you got just as much, if not more, in return. His days were largely repetitious, but there was always something new he was telling you about. His gym selfies never disappointed, and neither did the paragraphs where he told you in an abundance of detail how much he missed waking up next to you.

While you made it a point to spend time with Natasha, Edith, Ruby and Marty, the loneliness was somehow worse now that you had rings on your finger. The best thing to happen was the arrival of the day when your new fourth grade class started their unit on aviation.

Your students had been anticipating it for weeks, and you had some eager faces looking back at you on the Monday morning when you stood at the front of your classroom and said, "We're about to embark on a flight that will take us through our math, science and language arts classes for weeks to come. As we learn all about aviation, we'll be writing to a naval aviator on an aircraft carrier, and we'll even get to visit a local naval base for a field trip. Let's start out by learning the definitions of a few words that we'll be using frequently."

Later that week, you had a sizable cardboard box packed up with letters and snacks for your husband. Instead of telling him exactly when the first package would arrive, you left it as a surprise for him to stumble upon.

-------------------------------

Bradley was exhausted. The mechanical crew on this deployment was nowhere near as kind or competent as Marty, and he found himself constantly visiting their shop to work through issues with his aircraft. He missed his friends and his home and his wife. He missed you so fucking much. All of the letters and emails you sent him were fantastic, but he even missed having a bunch of pen pals to converse with at the end of the day.

Every happy thought that entered his mind seemed to be pushed aside when he realized he was still a long way from returning to San Diego. He considered skipping dinner in favor of collapsing in his bunk, but he could tell he was already losing weight. You weren't around to keep him well fed, so when his stomach started to rumble, he made a point to head for the noisy mess hall. 

The cabbage rolls were disgusting, but at least the aircraft carriers were consistent. He picked at his meal and then ate two plates of dessert to make himself feel a little bit better. When he was sorting his dirty dishes and tray into the appropriate place, he was surprised to hear his name being called amongst some others.

"Bradshaw! You've got unclaimed mail!"

He perked up immediately. How did he have something else to claim? He picked up an enormous envelope from you the other day along with a card from Edith. Did you send him a handwritten note again already?

When he went to the small window in front of the mail center and gave his name, a box was thrust into his hands. Bradley's heart leapt when he saw the return address was from Mira Mesa Elementary School. He should have been expecting this, but he was suddenly happy you kept it as a surprise. A smile curled along his lips. He could have some regular pen pals to correspond with again. His smile grew wider when he looked at the way you addressed the box to him in your tidy handwriting.

To MY US Naval Aviator (Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw)

---------------------------------

Bradley has the ultimate pen pal in his wife. Thanks for reading this series which ended up being so much longer than originally intended! Thanks for all of the love and feedback along the way! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@solacestyles

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@horseslovers2016

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

@daggerspare-standingby

@nessjo

@trickphotography2

@lyn-js

@furiousladyking

@godsfavoritebabe

@bethabear12

@halo-mystic

@sherlockstrangewolf

@theamuz

@khaylin27

@glenpowellluver

[sandwitchstories]

The Family Portrait

Well hey there! Welcome back to Mouse's Mini-Verse! One of the hardest parts of parenting is having to keep a straight face when you just want to bust a gut laughing. Kids say and do the damndest things. And Mouse, as we all know, is no different!

For more adventures with Mouse, check out my Dad!Sukuna Series on my AO3 - Here! )

Author's Note: For anyone new to my Dad!Sukuna Series, Mouse is Sukuna's, currently, 2 year old daughter with reader.

Summary: Mouse demonstrates her artistic abilities. There's just... a slight issue...

If you would prefer to read this story on AO3, click here !

WC: 1k+

CW: reader is referred to as 'Mama' but not described, toddler dad Sukuna, girl dad!sukuna, true form Sukuna (4 arms), it's pretty much Dilf Sukuna fluff and crack, SFW in every way, just family fluff, Uraume has 2 cameos

Sukuna, you, and Uraume stood side by side, staring in disbelief. You berated yourself for not questioning the silence sooner. Sukuna wondered how the hell Mouse did something of this magnitude so quickly and quietly. Uraume sighed and excused themselves to go get rags and a bucket of water.

Mouse stood frozen and stared back at the two of you for about… 15 heart beats, just long enough to sense she was in trouble, before she made an attempt at a mad dash past Sukuna. Papa wasn’t called the King of Curses for no reason. With his incredible speed he reached down and snatched her up by the back of her outfit before she could get within 3 feet of where you both stood. He brought her up to his face, dangling as he gripped her outfit.

“And where do you think you are going, Mouse?”

She reached out her hands to cup his cheeks. “Down, please and thank you, Papa!” 

“Not happening, brat.”

“Mouse,” you said, trying to get her attention. You glared at Sukuna as he turned his hand so your, still dangling in mid air, daughter was now facing you instead of him. He gave you a cheeky grin from behind her. He knew, without any shadow of a doubt, that the glare had been because he had almost made you laugh when you needed to be stern.

“Hi Mama. Hold me, please and thank you, Mama?” she asked, stretching out her arms towards you. 

You took her from his grasp and put her down on the floor ignoring her whine and pout. You knelt down to be more on her level. “Mouse, please explain to me why you have written all over the wall with your father’s calligraphy ink.”

Sukuna crossed both sets of arms as he stood and waited for her answer. You knew he was annoyed, both by the mess she had made and by her using, what appeared to be, every single drop of ink he had owned.

“I no write on wall,” she looked at you confused.

“Then what do you call that?” you asked, pointing behind her.

She grinned at you and then at Sukuna. “I painted a picture for you!”

“That’s… a… painting,” Sukuna said slowly, squinting all 4 of his eyes at the jagged lines, swirls, dots and scribbles. “I’m not seeing it.”

“I show you?” Mouse asked, looking between you and Sukuna.

“What the hell,” Sukuna sighed and gestured her forward.

“Mama, stand up, please and thank you.”

You did as told, trying hard not to be upset about your ruined wall. It got a little easier when she turned around, grabbed a finger on each of your hands and headed forward, pulling you both along behind her. 

Once you got to the wall she walked over to the right side of the wall. “I start here, Mama, Papa.”

“Alright, Mouse. You have our attention,” you said, standing next to Sukuna who had recrossed his arms and stared with his usual grumpy look of disinterest but you noticed his eyes were all fixed on where his daughter was pointing.

“This is a puppy. This is a kitty. This is a fishie. This is a birdie. That’s a bug. That’s a tree… and another tree…,” she continued, pointing at various scribbles as she walked.

“What’s that?” Sukuna pointed, skipping ahead to the biggest part of the design. A large…something. It was a shape resembling a rectangle with lines coming out from either side and underneath.

“That’s you, Papa!” she said with the proudest smile on her face. 

She then pointed to a smaller version with less lines on the sides but a good number of long lines coming down from the top. “That’s you, Mama!”

Sukuna grinned, kneeling down and putting a hand on her back. He put another hand on the back of her head and kissed her forehead. “You captured our likeness well, I suppose.”

“It’s a beautiful drawing, little one, but from now on let’s do it on paper only, okay?” you asked, brushing fingers through her hair with a smile on your own face. 

“Okay, Mama. I promise,” she nodded happily. You could only hope and pray she remembered this conversation next time.

“And you need to ask first.”

“Okay, Mama, I promise.”

“What’s this one?” Sukuna asked as he pointed to another part of the picture. How she had managed to make a scribbled shape look annoyed was beyond him, but that was the only damn way he could describe what he was looking at. An annoyed blob. Mouse gave him a toothy grin. “That's Urau-rau!”

You choked on air at her response. “You know what, I can see it.” Sukuna tilted his head to the side with a shit eating grin on his face. He glanced up at you, all four eyes twinkling with mischief. Oh no…

He quickly scooped Mouse up in one of his arms, making her laugh loudly with her head thrown back while she held onto his clothing with tight, tiny fists as he stood. He glanced to the doorway  Uraume was returning through with the cleaning supplies. You knew your husband well enough to know that you were about to want to throttle him. 

“Uraume, I have changed my mind. Leave it as it is,” he said as he began walking out of the room with Mouse in his arms. “Come, Mouse. Let's go find a snack.”

“Snacks! Snack! Snacks! Please and thank you, Papa!” Mouse said in a happy almost sing-song voice, looking up at him like he hung the moon.

“May I ask why, Master Sukuna?” they asked, eyes trained down trying not to let any irritation show.

“It’s a family portrait,” Sukuna answered, amusement in his tone.

“I painted you too, Urau-rau!!” Mouse called over his shoulder waving as they disappeared down the hallway, the sounds of them discussing what to snack on fading as they moved away.

Uraume looked at you and shook their head. “I am glad there is only one of those things.”

You chuckled and gave them a pat on the back before you began to follow after the other two. With your hand on the doorframe you paused and looked back, making direct eye contact with them. You winked and said one last thing before fully exiting the room “Only one…For now.” 

[reader-from-another-dimension]

IM BACK IM ALIVE So sorry for being dead for a bit tehe im back again with some tomfoolery, hope you enjoyyy :P Secondbee au by @yuukirita!!! Part 1, 2, 3 hereeee

_____________________________

Elita regrets telling Optimus about the cave-in.

She sighs, watching the leader of the Autobots pace around the moving train, occasionally stopping to look out at the window glass to check if they’re there yet.

You would’ve thought she told him the Decepticon had busted in their base. The way his face pales (as much as it could being silver, anyways) and how he insisted on coming with.

She wasn’t worried about Cliffjumper, not really, the mech can handle himself just fine - there was a reason his name was what it is, after all. But alas, logic might not be available inside Optimus’ blue-helm right now, seriously, he spirals.

“Optimus, sit-down.” The pink mech grits out, she was already in a bad mood when Cliff scares her half to death when his comm suddenly cuts out, then the reports about the collapsing mine.

How ironic, she couldn’t have ever forgotten that mine. There were a lot of feelings going on when she assigned the place to Cliffjumper, it was mostly to just distract the bot, but deep down, she had hoped that he might be able to stumble upon sub-50.

Now, Elita has never personally seen sub-50, the place was a myth to her, a warning to scare mine-bots into behaving, she hadn’t thought the mines even went that low.

She hasn’t gone there, not really. Not even after what happened.

She wasn’t sure if she even wanted to.

Optimus told her about it, sometimes, if he had enough high-grade on a particularly slagged day. He told her about Steve and the others (she had only recognized Steve’s name), told her about how he and D-Megatron found him.

The stories usually ends there, when the mech starts shaking and they drop the topic.

Elita knew, she heard enough of Cliff’s complaints enough to know, Optimus truly couldn’t handle the red-mech being in any sort of danger, even though he was a fully trained soldier. Jazz said it might be a fragged-up coping mechanism, she wasn’t sure.

The Prime babies Cliffjumper to the point of ridiculousness, it had only gotten worse.

Despite that, Elita couldn’t bring it on herself to talk Optimus down from it. It was also pretty funny to watch, too.

Optimus flinches at her rough voice, and meekly sits down next to her, his antennas scratching the roof of the train, making both of them wince. Elita sighs.

This is going to take awhile.

______________________

Finally, finally, they arrived at the cave-in mine. Next to her, Optimus exhales shakily at the sight of the mine’s entrance. She had told him to stay behind, damnit.

Regardless, they look around, occasionally tapping their comms to search for Cliff’s frequency, awaiting a response. Every cycle passes, the more nervous and jittery Optimus becomes, pacing around again. Elita sighs, she could never understand how some people find this mech intimidating, was it the height difference?

They walk and walk, until finally arriving at the reported collapsed part of the mines. Also presumably where Cliff’s signal was lost.

Elita grimaces at the gaping hole in the ground, so deep she couldn’t even see the bottom. Glancing at Optimus, she can clearly tell the mech was going to lose it at this point.

She nudges him, tilts her helm, then jumps down.

Optimus’ scream is like music to her audio-receiver.

________________________

They landed in a run-down hallway, looking like there was no one around for centuries, the amount of dust in this place is going to clog her vents, ugh.

“Elita.” Optimus calls out, and she walks over, glancing at what he was pointing at.

Fresh poot prints, about the same size as Cliff’s.

“Well,” She lets out an exhale she didn’t realize she was holding. “Looks like we won’t be here for long, after all.”

They continue on.

Passing broken lamps and scratched walls, Elita frowns at the shredded posters of Sentinel, she’d recognize those claw marks anywhere - Cliff never really had good impulse control. They were heading in the right direction.

“Hey, Elita.” Optimus’ voice jolts her out of thoughts, she looks at him.

“Do you think…nevermind.” Oh no, they’re not doing this again.

“Once you start something, better spit it out, Optimus.” Elita snaps, it was the only sure way to pry any kind of worry out of the Prime, he had developed this nasty habit of hiding things - even from her.

Optimus isn’t looking at her, but his antennas are flat against his helm, red flag.

“The matrix, it’s…acting up.” That made her pause, as much of a blessing the artifact had been, it was also a huge headache, for both her and Optimus. Damn gods and their cryptic relics.

“It is? How long has it been doing that? Have you gone to Ratchet for that? What am I saying, of course you haven’t, Primus, Optim-” “Elita!” The Prime’s shout cuts Elita off of her rant, she glares at him, but the annoyance quickly vanishes when she sees what he was pointing at.

Cliffjumper, very much alive and kicking, standing shell-shocked at the sight of the two of them at an end of a dimly lit hallway. Elita releases a vent she didn’t know she was holding. See, Optimus? Cliff was fine, he-

What the pit is he holding?

Cliffjumper seems fine, nowhere physically injured, at least. Squinting her optics, as Optimus calls out for the red bot, Elita can vaguely make out a small figure in Cliff’s hold, like a drone bot.

Primus, if Cliffjumper also starts getting attached to and bringing back drone bots, Elita wouldn’t know what to do. Why, oh why did out of all of Optimus’ traits, that would be what Cliff picks up after the Prime.

Oh wait, he’s coming closer to them, Elita can hear his voice echoing back from the end of the long hallway.

“Optimus, Elita! L-Look!” Oh no.

“Cliff, I swear to Primus, if you’ve picked up another dro-” Elita had to cut herself off, her voice failing her as she looked at what Cliffjumper had in his hold.

“...Oh.” Optimus mumbles, his out-stretched hand frozen mid-air.

Elita resets her optics, twice.

Shivering in Cliffjumper’s arms, so small Optimus could probably hold him in one hand, was a sparkling. An honest to Primus actual, active sparkling.

And that’s not even the real kicker. Because when Elita resets her optics again, Optimus has one knee on the ground. One would think he’s doing it in order to not scare the small sparkling who’s a fraction his size, but Elita knows better, it took all of her willpower to not do the same.

Bright, if a bit dirty, yellow frame, with two black stripes running down their rounded chest frame. Two small (absolutely itty bitty) wings on the back, jittery in their movements, likely from nervousness due to the sudden attention.

A small horn at the side of their head, the other side missing, likely an accident, based on the dent on the sparkling’s helm.

Elita lets out a shaky vent, her frame is still and high-strung, like one small push can set her off.

Optimus hasn't said anything yet, he’s not moving, instead the Prime stares at the sparkling who looks so much like a friend that it hurts. Primus must have an awfully twisted sense of humor, he must be.

An old wound now all torn back open, blistering with pain she thought was long gone. Optimus’ frame shakes with frantic vents.

The sparkling looks up at the two of them with wide, scared but curious blue optics. They cling to Cliffjumper like a lifeline, small hands holding on red frames so tight it would’ve left dents.

“E-Elita-” Optimus finally speaks up, he calls out for her, but his optics didn’t leave the sparkling, he didn’t dare to.

“...B?” For the first time in her life, Elita can admit that her voice broke, just this once.

[outrunningthedark]

U know what’s funny? They made sure to make Eddie say I’m straight when we haven’t even heard Buck say I’m bisexual. 😭

This is why whenever I see a “Bi Buck isn’t dead!1! He’s still bi!1!” post I’m like…let’s not overlook the actual issue for the sake of notes, please!

In the episode where Buck was broken up with, we saw Buck regress re: awkwardness while out with his BOYFRIEND in public, an inability to confirm his bisexuality, and the reason for the breakup being that Buck is still navigating his sexuality and shouldn’t tie himself down to one person right now.

It does not matter whether Oliver co-signs the bisexual label in interviews.

It does not matter whether we can still look at Buck as bi no matter who he’s with in the future.

What matters is that the show is ALREADY leaving his sexuality undefined.

What matters is that the show has the option to not reference his sexuality again or at least as little as possible if it’s not “relevant” to Buck’s story.

THAT’S what people mean by “Bi Buck could be dead soon”. If there’s any sort of erasure it’s gonna come from the show first.

[holylulusworld]

Lumberjack Tales - The Hairy Bear (3)

Summary: He ruins what you had...

Pairing: Lumberjack!Ari Levinson x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, Ari being a douche for a moment, sad reader, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy scare, mentions of being unemployed, money problems (implied), remorse, we love Bear

This story is part of my Lumberjack Tales masterlist

Catch up here: Lumberjack Tales - The Hairy Bear (2)

A/N: I added the first details of the following request to this part.

Your days off flew by faster than you wanted. Ari and you spend every moment together, lots of cuddling and sex included.

Before you knew it, you called your boss to quit your job. Ari told you more than once that he wants you to stay – forever.

He seemed to be adamant about keeping you around. And you, well you, wouldn’t want to leave him, his cabin, and Bear for all the money in the world.

It was the first time in your life that you got the feeling you found your haven, a place where you belong, and are wanted.

“Ari,” you call for your lover and maybe future boyfriend. “Baby? Do you want to join me for a walk? We could take Bear too.”

Ari doesn’t answer. He came back from another grocery run half an hour ago. Ari didn’t say much. He simply carried all bags inside, and even ignored when Bear nuzzled his leg.

Assuming he had another encounter with the, in his words, annoying town folk, you snicker. Ari just hates having too many people around. You don’t know what happened, but he likes staying to himself – hence the cabin in the middle of nowhere.

A minute passes by, and another without a word from Ari. You sigh and decide to help him unpack the groceries. Winter is close, and Ari wants to restock his pantry.

“Ari?” You walk inside the kitchen, smirking as Ari is busy cleaning the counter. Last night you had sex on it, and you didn’t have the time to clean it yet. He huffs and snatches your panties from the ground to throw them into the trash can.

“Shit everywhere…” He mutters, still not looking at you. “Everywhere…”

“Can I help you?” You step closer to Ari, to hug him from behind and rest your head against his back. “We ruined it together. Let me lend you a hand.”

“Christ, can you leave me alone for five minutes?” He raises his voice, making you flinch. “It feels like you’re breathing down my neck all the time. Sometimes, a man needs time on his own. You’re suffocating me! Why are you so clingy all the time.”

You stiffen and immediately drop your arms. Stepping away from Ari, you feel like someone punched you in the guts. Not days ago, he told you again that he wanted you to stay forever, and now, Ari is telling you he hates having you around.

“Alright,” you try not to choke on the tears welling up in your eyes. “I’ll leave you to…cleaning.”

Ari huffs when you run out of the kitchen, and upstairs. He believes you’ll give him space and come back down later to join him for breakfast.

Bear whines as he looks at his owner. The Estrela Mountain Dog dips its head to watch its owner angrily scrub the kitchen counter. “Not now, Bear. I had a shitty day. My fucking ex-wife called, that blood-sucking bitch…”

“Shoes, pants, wallet,” you sniffle while throwing all of your belongings into your backpack. You wipe your eyes and choke out a sob. How could you believe Ari wants more from you than sex? Of course, he’s already bored and wants you gone. “That’s all.”

Ari left the house to go for a walk with Bear some time ago. This way, you don’t have to say goodbye. You’ll just sneak out and find your way back to civilization and loneliness.

Grabbing your backpack, you sigh. For a few weeks, you believed you found a home. Now you know better. No man can be trusted. Especially not the kind looking like he came right out of a wet dream.

You slowly walk out of the room, not looking back. If you turn around, you’ll break down and cry. That’s the last thing Ari wants, a whiny and desperate woman clinging to him. Maybe he even believes after you quit your job for him that you are after his money.

Shaking your head, you decide to not think of him any longer. It was great while it lasted. You had a great time and awesome sex. You’ll remember your time with Ari for what it was – a late summer fling.

“Y/N? Uh—I’m back. Listen,” Ari jogs upstairs to apologize for his earlier outburst. He was angry after hearing from his ex-wife after so long. The last thing he wanted was to yell at you. “Baby? I’m sorry for yelling. It’s just that…”

Ari stops in his tracks. He gasps when he finds the bedroom empty. “Y/N?” He rubs his scruffy chin. Something is wrong. All of your clothes are gone. Even the ones you carelessly dropped to the ground when you jumped at him to suck him off last night. “Baby?”

Bear trots inside the room. The huge dog whines loudly as you are nowhere to be found.

“Do you think she’s shopping?” Ari asks his dog. He furrows his brows as Bear lies down, and whines again. “Fuck…no…fuck!”

Sitting down on the bed, he buries his face in his hands. He screams your name, angrily stomping his feet. “I fucked up big time!”

Ari aimlessly drives around the area. He searches his property, every inch of it. In town, no one saw you, and you’re not answering your phone.

“Bear, I don’t even know where she’s living,” Ari hits the brakes hard when he sees someone walking along the road. He cranes his neck, only to see the cashier from the store in town wave at him. “Not her.”

He slams his hands on the steering wheel, cursing himself for ruining the best thing ever happening to him. “She’s gone, and it’s all my fucking fault.”

The first days back at your old place felt wrong—just wrong. You missed Ari's scent and his voice. You barely slept, not only because you felt like your heart got ripped out, but also because you found yourself in desperate need of a new job.

How foolish of you to quit your job for some guy you met not weeks ago.

“Fucking idiot,” you call yourself a needy and stupid bitch. “Only because his dick was good, you fucked up your career and will lose your apartment. Loser bitch. This is so typical of you.”

Four weeks have passed, and you feel numb. Not only did you not get your job back, but you’ve got another problem, and your time with Ari left more than a bad taste in your mouth.

Hot tears run down your cheeks, realizing you took too many risks by giving in to the charming and sexy man. Again, you tell yourself that you should’ve known better.

“Bear, come on,” Ari urges his dog. He finally found a trace of you. It took him almost six weeks to find out more about you, and your life. All he knew was your name. Nothing else was important while you were still around. Ari told himself, he could ask questions later and enjoy the blooming relationship you built. “We got to find her.”

Bear barks as Ari tugs at the dog leash. He sits down and whines loudly. “Stop making a fuss, you big beast. We have a job to do. Get up.”

The Estrela Mountain Dog remains where he’s seated. “What’s wrong with you?” Ari shakes his head. “We finally found her, and now you keep me from going to her?”

Ari huffs as his dog jumps up. Bear wags his tail and barks loudly. The dog suddenly starts running to chase after someone.

“Bear! Wait! Wait up!” Ari runs after his dog, dodging people here and there. “You stubborn beast. WAIT!”

Bear suddenly stops. Jumps at someone, making Ari yell his dog’s name louder.

“No! Stop attacking people. What are you doing?” His heart stops for a second watching Bear nuzzle your belly. The huge beast is whining for your attention as you carefully pat his head. “Bear, you beast found her!”

While you crouch down to wrap your arms around Bear, his owner steps closer. He watches you pat his dog while trying to find the words to apologize.

“There you are,” Ari huffs. “You must love watching me chase you.” He steps closer to grab Bear’s dog leash. “We will discuss your behavior on our way back.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You get back up to glare at Ari. “You wanted your freedom and silence back. I gave you what you wanted.”

You turn to leave, ignoring Bear whining louder. “I didn’t want you to leave. Y/N, I was having a bad day and yelled at you. I’m sorry.” Ari puts his hand on your shoulder, but you shake it off. “We could’ve talked things out, but you just ran. I needed weeks to find you. How could you just leave me?”

“How could you treat me like an intruder and a liability?” You snap at Ari. “All the time you told me to stay, and I believed you. I quit my job for you, only to get kicked out!”

“Y/N, I did not kick you out!” He growls. “You left! I came back and wanted to apologize, only to find you gone. I was scared to hell and back! Do you know how many nights I asked myself if you are still alive?”

You shrug. “You have a life to go back to, Ari. I suggest you enjoy your solitary, and I’ll take care of…” Biting your tongue, you look at the envelope in your hands. “Whatever.”

“Y/N,” he whispers your name when you are about to walk away. “Please. Let’s go somewhere else, and have a coffee. We can talk and fix this. It was all just a misunderstanding.”

Ari looks around the area, frowning as his eyes drift toward the building you left.

“There’s nothing to fix.” You want to walk away, but Bear blocks your path. “Bear, no!”

“A doctor?” Ari sucks in a breath. “Y/N. Baby, are you sick? Fuck.” Ari wraps his arms around you and buries his face in your neck. “How do you feel? What is wrong with you?”

You take a deep breath and say, “I’m pregnant…”

Tags in reblog.

[almayver]

Dome decided to share a bit of the PP Bible!!! (All the text is thanks to google translate, sorry) (This is LONG)

Part I - What is the Bible? This is what Phi O taught Dome. It is a tool that helps the team see the overall picture of the project. Sometimes, just the script may not be enough for the team to see the picture or see the direction of the work that Dome will direct. So this was created. It will consist of many things, from mood & tone, color scheme, cinematography style, etc., which are quite detailed. For example, the color scheme, Dome has to divide it. In the actual film and the promotional work or graphic work, they must have different colors. This is due to communication reasons and the chosen direction. But the main thing is mostly personal preference.

PART II 📒 Storytelling - To make it easier for the team to understand the 12 episodes of ON SALE within 10 minutes during the first meeting (if we read the script ourselves, it would take at least a day or two), Dome summarized the whole story for the team to see.

📒 Genre - What type of movie is Haunted House? Phi O forced us to choose only 3 types. At that time, Dome chose Heartwarming Spooky Comedy. At first, he used the word Scary, but Phi O said, "Isn't it that scary?" Let's change the word. — The main reason for dividing the movie types clearly was so that the team could understand each other that, "Hey, Phi, this movie actually has many more genres than that." So we had to divide the percentages. When writing a script or working on different parts and feeling confused about the mood and tone, try to look back at this pie chart so that you can find the right path. The actual result was not exactly the same. Drama 5% like this, is that right? 5555

📒 Logline - The synopsis or you can call it a plot. In the Thai film industry, it is used in a confusing way in each place. The assignment that Dome gave himself was How to tell it concisely, to make it understandable. After reading it, I felt like I wanted to watch this movie. I can tell the type of movie completely in one logline.

📒 Archetype - Brother O asked me to summarize the haunted house in 3 concrete ways, which must tell the story of the movie as much as possible and also have some abstract meanings hidden in it. Dome ended up summarizing 3 things. The first is Haunted House, which I argued with Brother O again about what kind of haunted house you have, a real haunted house or a haunted house in an amusement park. Well, it must be a haunted house in an amusement park. It meets the comedy requirement more. — The next is Bro, Homie. When our main characters are Home and Peach, it is a relationship between men who are not romantically in love like a couple. But that's it. When it is done, it becomes a male friendship that is suspicious until it ends up like that. I blame Brother Taynew too. 5555 Just kidding. — The last one is Dinner Table because it feels like a concrete, warm Asian style.

📒 Story Arc - The act of the movie. How many acts will this movie have that clearly divide the proportions of where the story is going now? And where will it end? Dome divides it into 4 main lines — the first line is Outer, what is the story, which property, what ghosts did you encounter? — The next line is Inner, going into a bit more detail, adding in the character's feelings, what is the main mission of the episode, what is the end result of the episode? — The last two lines are a summary of the act of the film, what is the Theme and which direction is the film taking the audience?

PART III 📒 Character - Who are our 4 main characters? What do they do? What kind of people are they? Dome has summarized them briefly and clearly. Plus, as a nerd (pretending to be smart), I happened to read The Eight Characters of Comedy by Scott Sedita. The summary is that he teaches how to write 8 types of comedy characters. No matter what situation or equation you put in, if there are characters like this together, there should be some comedy. If you are a nerd, try reading it. Dome has used this until it became a muscle for the 7 years since he started this career.

📒 Chemistry - Once we saw the images of the 4 main characters, let's summarize the chemical equation of this ghostbusting gang a bit. Use the principles of MBTI and Cognitive Function to make it easier to understand. This slide was used since the pilot was filmed because Dome and the actors did not have the opportunity to workshop before filming. At that time, I showed it to P'Ten, New, Muk, and Jan so that they could understand each other immediately in the limited time.

📒 Costume - Make a rough guide for the costume team to see that How does Dome see the characters dress? What kind of look do they wear? Do they wear accessories? What are their personal items? What color do they like to wear? When the costumers see it, they can develop it further. On the costume side, they will continue to make something called a Costume book, which is a costume bible specifically. It goes into great detail. For example, today Home will wear this outfit and this color because Home feels this way right now. It is consistent with the story in this episode. And there is also an overview of each EP. Do they go together? — The real Costume book takes many days to make, choosing the details of each outfit and each episode. And there are many outfits that were not used in the story because there was no place to put them. What a shame, lol.

All of these are just examples from the 4 main characters. We haven’t included supporting characters, guest characters, and ghosts in the story. So, multiply the three topics above. How many more characters are there? How many more pages do we need to make? (Bragging again)

PART IV 📒 Episode bible - If you have read this far, everyone should understand the benefits of making a bible. Each episode needs to make a separate bible for each episode. That means you have to go back and do it from PART I to PART III for each episode. It is not strange that there are more than a hundred slides. In conclusion, the team that criticizes is tired. 5555 Just kidding.

Apart from the Direction bible, other teams also have their own separate bibles, such as the Ghost bible, which is a bible that is purely about ghosts in the story. For example, who the ghosts are, what they look like, what is the cause of death? — The Food bible is a bible of all the food in the story, what menus are there, how to cook the food, etc. — Each team makes their own bible in detail so that everyone can understand and see the same picture as much as possible. This doesn't even mention the Cinematography, Art Direction, Location, Extra characters, etc. There are so many more. It is so detailed. Just thinking about it makes me discouraged. 5555

That's all for bragging. Anyway, thank you very much to everyone who read up to this point 🥳

PS. Recorded on NOV 14, 2024. If any knowledge is wrong, I'll be honest. It's Dome's knowledge and understanding at this time. If it causes anyone any inconvenience, I apologize. 🙏🏽

[vigilskeep]

does sol have options on spite? does spite on sol? endlessly fascinated with them, it’s so sweet how you went from puzzling over the possibility of a crow warrior to having dreams about sol 😭

sol has a mild case of sympathy for spite’s side of the story from the start; “yeah, trapped in there with some uppity master crow going on and on about contracts who never lets you get a word in edgewise no matter how often you’ve backed him up, i know that experience”. but that would never prevent them from staying alert, registering spite as an ever-present threat against lucanis, which rises in importance against spite’s usefulness as lucanis starts to matter more to them. they always had calculating how to get rid of it in the back of their mind, for sure. this state of affairs goes on until the bit where spite drags you into the fade to take lucanis to therapy. and it’s like, OH, okay, you have completely reasonable goals aligned with mine and for a demon you’re kind of adorable. that’s when sol starts actually getting fond. they love when spite makes Interesting and Creative fade bridges (they have artistic merit, lucanis), they always get a laugh out of it talking to the others, and it’s never let them down in a fight. as long as it’s good to lucanis and lucanis is okay with it, it’s part of what they love and they’re here for it all the way

spite likes sol. which makes sense, because it is a mostly straightforward, uncomplicated creature that lives in lucanis’ brain, where sol is the number one source of light and freedom and all good things. but sol also meets spite’s own standards, i think? sol is vicious and sharp, bringer of fire! clever and fun, trusted and safe! breaker of chains, opener of doors! ours! these are all very good things! spite is well pleased by their proximity. which is precisely what lucanis finds most unsettling, because he automatically doesn’t trust anything his demon wants, so overall this unfortunately does not quickly help spite’s case for More Sol and I Get To Talk To Them

in summary

spite: if we run and leap at sol they will most certainly catch us in their arms

lucanis: NO! THEY’RE HOLDING COFFEE!

[sol drops the coffee to catch them, Lucanis Disapproves]

i don’t know how... involved spite is in lucanis and sol’s relationship? (DISCLAIMER: the rest of this post ventures into my general headcanons about what spite is and how it works, and is not intended to discount anyone else’s interpretations of spite or the romance.) spite does not strike me as a spirit that had previously had very much contact with people. if any. it’s incredibly single-minded, with broken, childish speech patterns and a very poor understanding of how the material world works. which is to say that i think before we ask ourselves if spite is truly part of this romantic relationship, we should set our sights lower. like maybe, “does spite know what a romantic relationship is?” i’m still cracking up at that one shot where you’re on the late game coffee date and lucanis comes over to stand next to you, and the camera zooms out to show spite just... still there. sitting there watching. it’s learning, okay. it’s very curious and mildly confused but not displeased by this turn of events. more sol is good! there seem to be a lot of strange mortal customs involved with this direction, though

to me, spite encircling them with the wings in the final romance scene seemed like it is definitely present and made a choice to do that—lucanis says in other dialogue that the wings are spite and he doesn’t control them—but i don’t necessarily read that spite is taking part, so to speak. spite is still working on What Are Physical Bodies And How Do They Work And Why Do They Look Like That, and i just fail to believe that it has sex figured out or even sexual attraction online. (right now, at least! never say never?) my honest interpretation of spite’s choice to pop out the wings is threefold:

a) taash said it would be good and that sol would like it. taash is, in spite’s opinion, usually very sensible, so their advice is worth trying

b) spite apparently can make an attempt to go elsewhere when lucanis is having sex, because i’ve heard about dialogue from a neve/lucanis setup where spite says that when the hat comes off it’s been told to leave and go “play with wisps”, which is, btw, so fucking funny. however, spite in this scene has spent weeks in the Very Wrong Bad Not Right absence of rook, and now rook is Here! the wings are spite just present enough to still soak that in. that’s all it needs from this moment, which shows in how contented it is in this scene to be, as far as i can tell, otherwise really remarkably quiet and non-intrusive and let lucanis and rook have the moment they need

c) lucanis was very clear that this is Private, and spite is attempting to ensure that they have privacy by covering them safely with the wings, because it is Suspicious About The Fish

[honorhearted]

"I don't think there is a single thing in the world you could do to disappoint me, Benjamin Tallmadge."

He snorted. "Well, I certainly hope you'll remember this moment when you are, in fact, disappointed in me in the future. I'm quite the over-achiever, after all."

Penelope spoke of a son following in his footsteps, and despite the leap in his chest at such a thought, it was soon soured as Benjamin drifted to thinking of war, of destruction and pain and death, and his shoulders curled inward. "I should hope not," he murmured. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not share my stories with our children... I fought so they could be free, so they could be happy, and I don't wish for them to know any of the pain I've endured. Not even a moment."

Penelope, thankfully, seemed quite content to continue teasing him, so Benjamin latched on to the much lighter fare of conversation. With a snort, he asked, "How can I not compliment you? That seems like a double-edged sword, and I'm not about to risk displeasing my betrothed. Unless, of course, it leads to more untoward requests."

Penelope giggled, leaning into his touch with a gentle incline of her neck. "If leaving you now is so difficult, I can't imagine how hard it will be once we are properly wed."

"We'll never leave the house," Benjamin agreed, chuckling. "And if anyone trespasses during our honeymoon, I'll be certain to greet them with a musket. I think I've earned the right to be possessive of my wife. If they wish to hold an audience with you, they can wait in line." Grazing his lips along her shoulder, he muttered, "Unfortunately for them, I am the only one granted permission to enter that coveted queue."

Penelope hummed. "Do you really think anyone would even notice if I just stayed here forever? Surely, Mama is far too enraptured in planning the wedding to notice and its not as though anyone would miss me otherwise."

Benjamin fought back a groan. "Don't go giving me any ideas... I'm serious, Pen, I'm at the point where I'd rather just kidnap you for a week, and then claim a loss of sanity." He shrugged. "We're already engaged, but that at least would ensure that you have to marry me."

Penelope followed his glance toward the clock. "I suppose I cannot delay for much longer, so this is where we must part. The weeks ahead are sure to be long and arduous."

Benjamin grimaced. "You don't know the half of it...I'm afraid men are the far weaker of the two sexes, so I'll be in the direst of straits."

Turning to face him, Penelope smoothed her palms along his chest with a pout. "Promise you won't forget about me in the time we're apart?"

"Impossible," he vowed. "I'll be thinking of you each and every waking moment, slowly being driven to madness." Dropping a kiss onto her forehead, he lowly added, "I hope it isn't too much to hope for the same?"

--

Within a week's time, Benjamin found himself in Penelope's presence again. Her mother was distracted with God only knew what -- it seemed that marriages of the ton were quite the affair -- and despite his good cheer, he kept pacing around the room.

"I'm so bloody nervous," he confessed. "If my assumptions are correct, Father will be arriving sometime today, and I just... I'm unsure of what to expect." He halted in his restless trek, turned, and then glanced toward Penelope with a low breath. "I never told you this, but I essentially ran away from home... Not because of anything I did, but rather, because I couldn't face the pain of losing my brother. So I did the cowardly thing, and I left my father all alone."

Shoulders hunkering, Benjamin looked down at his boots in shame. "I've written to Father, of course -- I'm not that cold-blooded -- but I imagine he must still be hurt. And I want him to love you so very much, but...what if I've already ruined everything before it's even had a chance to begin?"

If I'd known from the start how we would've ended up, I'm not so certain I would have ever been a gentleman.

"I find that hard to believe. Even in the throes of passion, you're a perfect gentleman." Pen quirked her lips into a sweet smile, a renewed flush creeping onto her cheeks. She knew she was lucky to have found someone like Ben, and that such a someone loved her as intensely as she loved them. Pen had nearly accepted the fact that her life would most likely be devoid of love. She might learn to love a husband, if she had been fortunate enough to find a man willing to marry her, but she had never expected to find a love match. And yet she had been proved wrong time and time again.

"Yes, actually." She teased, arching her brows in defiance. "I would like you to reenact the story of the handsome, charming foreign soldier who seduces the insipid wallflower with his smile and devilishly sharp wit. Are you familiar with that one?" Perching her hands on her hips, she tried to maintain a neutral expression but she found it hard when her body was still thrumming with electricity. "I don't think there is a single thing in the world you could do to disappoint me, Benjamin Tallmadge."

You know I love it when you give commands. Pen bit at the inside of her cheek to suppress a grin. She'd been told on multiple ocassions that she had a tendency to be too bossy. She liked to be in charge of things, especially when so much of her life seemed to be entirely out of her control. Whistledown had afforded her the luxury of controlling the narrative of scandals in the ton, but there were often times her pride spilled over.

"Is that so? I do enjoy giving commands every once in a while. I think it runs in the family. Perhaps, one day, a son of ours will follow in their father's footsteps. Though, I wouldn't mind if they decided to become little poets and authors instead."

Although she knew she would support her children in whatever endeavors they found themselves thrown into, Pen wasn't entirely eager to imagine her sons off to war. Even so, she refused to dwell on such a thing. Those were matters for the future, problems to be dealt with when they arose. For now, Pen was satisfied with living in the moment and planning for the near future instead.

"You must not give me so many compliments this soon. I'll hardly have any motivation to do better if you spoil me too much. Lucky for you, I'm a dutiful student."

Pen let out a soft giggle, reaching up to rest her hands on his arms. The idea of going a single day without him was tortuous, even though she knew it would be worth the wait. If they were to behave properly, it could be weeks until she felt his arms around her again. She was sure she would go insane in that much time, but at least she would be able to relish in the memory of him until then. The idea of a special marriage license was terribly tempting, but Pen knew that it would be near impossible to get. A lady of the ton marrying a foreigner was not likely to earn a favorable compliance by Her Majesty. Instead, she resigned herself to her fate. If nothing else, it would prove to be a good practice of patience.

"If leaving you now is so difficult, I can't imagine how hard it will be once we are properly wed." She sighed, nuzzling into his touch. Although Pen was determined to not be an overly needy or nagging wife, she had a feeling she would be following him around like a puppy for most of the honeymoon--and long after, as well. She had spent her entire life searching for a place to belong and now that she'd finally found it in Ben's arms, she wasn't in a rush to part with the feeling.

"Do you really think anyone would even notice if I just stayed here forever? Surely, Mama is far too enraptured in planning the wedding to notice and its not as though anyone would miss me otherwise." Even as she teased, Pen knew there was some truth behind her words. Her mother was enjoying the party planning aspect of the wedding and Pen didn't mind handing over the reigns since such a thing was far too overwhelming to handle. All she wanted was to hide away from the world and be with her fiancé.

"I suppose I cannot delay for much longer, so this is where we must part. The weeks ahead are sure to be long and arduous." Turning around to face him, Pen whined, lips puffed out into a pout. "Promise you won't forget about me in the time we're apart?"

[luvzshy]

i love the a different kind of love fic! i was wondering if you could do something similar with their daughter coming home really upset because a kid was being mean to her at school about having two moms and billie and reader comforting her? something angsty/fluffy! thank you 🫶🏻

Home is Where We Heal

Word Count: 562

Warnings: Mild bullying, emotional distress, and mention of homophobia.

Summary: When their daughter comes home upset after being bullied at school for having two moms, Billie and her partner comfort her, reminding her of her worth and that love is always stronger than ignorance. The story balances angsty moments with heartwarming reassurance, showing the family’s unconditional love.

a/n: I’m so glad you loved A Different Kind of Love!! ❤️

The front door slammed shut with a force that made the house feel smaller. Billie and you, who were cooking in the kitchen, shared a glance. A moment later, your daughter’s voice rang out from the hallway—choked, angry, and on the verge of tears.

“I hate it here.”

Billie wiped her hands on a dish towel before quickly walking toward the source of the voice. You followed closely behind. There, standing at the edge of the living room, was your daughter, a middle schooler now, her backpack discarded at the door. Her face was flushed, not with the usual excitement of returning home, but with a frustration that cut through the air. Her eyes were red, but she hadn’t let the tears fall yet.

“Hey, baby, what happened?” Billie asked, kneeling to her level.

Your daughter crossed her arms tightly. “Nothing,” she muttered, looking away, as if she could hide behind the words. “I’m fine.”

You sighed softly, exchanging a glance with Billie. Both of you knew that tone well. It was the kind of ‘I’m-fine-but-really-I’m-not’ voice that came when something was too big to explain.

“You don’t have to lie to us,” you said gently, walking up to your daughter and resting a hand on her shoulder. “You’re upset, we can tell.”

Billie’s voice was quieter, more soothing now. “We’re not going anywhere. Just talk to us, okay?”

A few seconds passed before your daughter’s lip quivered, and the dam broke. She looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. “Some kid at school… they called me a freak. They said I’m weird because I have two moms, and… and that I’ll never be normal.” Her voice cracked as she stumbled over the words. “I don’t want to be different anymore. Why can’t we just be like everyone else?”

Billie’s heart broke in her chest. Without thinking, she pulled your daughter into her arms, holding her tightly. You stepped in behind her, wrapping both of them in a comforting embrace.

“Hey, hey,” Billie murmured softly into your daughter’s hair. “That kid is just ignorant. You’re perfect just the way you are, you know that, right?”

Your daughter shook her head. “It’s so hard, Mom… sometimes I just wanna be like the other kids. No one at school gets it.”

You gently cupped her face in your hands, wiping away the few stray tears that had escaped. “Sweetheart, we’re different, and that’s okay. You’re special. And as for that kid—well, they’re not important. People say mean things when they don’t understand. You have us, and we’re gonna always have your back, no matter what. And Billie’s right—you’re perfect just the way you are.”

Billie let out a small sigh, squeezing your daughter a little tighter. “We’ve all had people say things about us that weren’t true, baby. But those things—they don’t define you. You’re our daughter, and you’re amazing, just the way you are. I promise you, there’s no one like you. And that’s something to be proud of.”

Your daughter nodded slowly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. The weight on her shoulders seemed a little lighter now. “I just don’t want to be alone, you know? What if people don’t want to be my friend because of who I am?”

Billie smiled softly, her hand gently stroking your daughter’s hair. “You’ll find your people, baby. And if anyone ever tries to make you feel small again, you know who you have to remind you how big you really are.” She pulled back just enough to look into her daughter’s eyes. “We love you more than anything. And nothing, no matter what anyone says, will change that.”

You stepped forward, giving Billie a soft look before turning your attention back to your daughter. “So, what do you say? Want to sit down and watch a movie? Or we can talk more, whatever you need.”

Your daughter hesitated for a moment, glancing up at both of you. “I think… I think I could use a hug right now.”

Without missing a beat, you both pulled her in again, enveloping her in a world where she was safe and loved. For now, that was all that mattered.

[archiveikemen]

"Dark If" Story Event: Chapter 2

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games.

Read this before interacting

It had been several days since I came to the castle. … But my situation remained unchanged. 

No matter how begged him to, the fairy refused to break the curse or even extend the deadline. 

(I’m forbidden from leaving the castle too, so I don't have any other options…)

What hurt me even more was Ellis. 

Ever since learning about his connection with Jude, I’ve started actively avoiding him. 

(Just this morning…)

= Flashback Start = 

Ellis: Good morning, Kate. I brought breakfast.

Ellis: I’ve got your favourite freshly baked bread with raspberry jam. 

Kate: …

Ellis: … I don’t mind if you don’t talk to me, but please eat. I’m worried about you.

Ellis: You won’t have energy without water, nutrients, and sunlight…

= Flashback End = 

Feelings of guilt welled up in me again when I recalled the sadness in his face as he left. 

(I really do want to go back to being friends like we were, but I just can’t find the right chance…) 

I wandered into the castle garden to clear my mind. 

Looking at the briar made me think of him—

Kate: … Ellis…

I unintentionally called out his name. 

In an instant, the briar in the garden rustled and crept towards me— suddenly, small white flowers bloomed from them. 

(... It’s almost as though they’re trying to cheer me up.)

(I remember how I used to see briar as my friend.) 

During my childhood, being a princess meant that I didn't have many people I could talk freely with and was hence often feeling lonely…

I’d always talk to the briar growing in the castle’s back garden. 

(I’d tell it all sorts of silly things… like how much I loved raspberry jam or how the air smells after it rains.)

(... Come to think of it, I gave the briar a name too.)

There was once where a gardener tried to clear out the briar for being a nuisance, so I gave it a name to protect it. 

“This is my friend! Don’t cut it away! It even has a name, it’s—” 

(I… what did I name that briar again?) 

I tried my best to recall… but in the end, I couldn't remember it at all. 

Still, the flowers blooming from the briar were a beautiful sight and gave me the courage to apologise to Ellis for my recent attitude towards him. 

Kate: I wonder where Ellis is right now…

Just as I muttered those words under my breath, the briar started stretching in one direction. 

Kate: Are you… pointing me towards Ellis?

When I asked, half-convinced, more white flowers bloomed rapidly as though telling me that I was right.

Kate: Thanks, I’ll follow you. 

Having grown accustomed to the peculiarities of the fairytale world, I followed after the briar. 

…

(Oh, there’s Ellis… and is that Jude with him?)

Ellis: — Why don't you break Kate’s curse, Jude?

Ellis: She really wishes for you to.

Jude: Ha? Don’t ask me such stupid questions. I’m tryin’ to do somethin’ ‘bout her illness, ain’t I? 

(Do something about my “illness”...?) 

(The thing I have is a “curse”, isn’t it? … What illness is he talking about?)

Kate: What do you mean by that, Jude?

Jude: W-when did ya… were ya eavesdroppin’? 

Ellis: Jude. Kate looks like she really wants to know, so just tell her about it.

Kate: Please do…! 

Jude: … 

Jude sighed… and began telling a truth I never knew.

Apparently, I had an incurable disease and my time was limited.

Jude learned of this by chance and in an attempt to help me, he cursed me so that I would fall into a deep slumber for 100 years right before my death. 

Jude: After ya fall asleep, I’ll spend that 100 years searchin’ for a cure and pay back my debt. 

Kate: So you were trying to help me… thank you for that.

Kate: But why didn't you clear up the misunderstanding earlier?

Judes … Says the daughter of the stupid King who won’t listen to a damn thing anyone tells him. 

Kate: I-I’m sorry my father was rude… 

Kate: … But I’m glad I found out about it now.

Kate: It means I won't have a misunderstanding towards you anymore… and I don’t have to think I’ve been “betrayed” by Ellis. 

Ellis: … So does that mean we can go back to being friends? 

Kate: If you’re alright with it, of course. … I’m sorry for treating you so coldly. 

Ellis: I didn’t mind, so you don’t have to worry about that either.

Seeing Ellis’ smile at me like flowers blooming had my heart racing again.

— It felt like it was urging me to realise something, a certain feeling. 

…

Later that night, after Ellis and I cleared up the misunderstanding between us and reconciled.

Ellis suddenly asked me a question after dinner.

Ellis: You don’t need Jude to break your curse anymore?

Kate: Of course not! The purpose of Jude’s curse is to keep me alive, after all.

Ellis: …

Kate: … Ellis? 

Although I thought my answer was to be expected, Ellis looked surprised.

I began to worry if I had said something strange. 

Ellis: If you’re fine with the curse not being broken…

Ellis: … Does that mean you still want to live? 

Kate: …? Yeah. There are things I still have to do… 

Although I had put it on hold for a while, I needed to find what was missing from this story and correct the twists. 

(Oh… but if I fix the twist and return to my original world…)

(I won’t be able to be together with Ellis anymore.) 

When I first came to this fairytale world, all I could think about was that I had to find a way back… 

But along the way, I started feeling like I didn't want to leave. The main reason was Ellis.

(I want to spend more time with Ellis.) 

(I want to eat delicious food with him, enjoy beautiful sights together… I’d even love to go on another journey with him.)

(I want to know more about Ellis. I want to see his smile from even closer to him…) 

Those desires flowed endlessly through me, filling my heart with a strong yearning. 

(Could this feeling be… love?) 

That said, my life was still in danger and it wasn't the right time to be confessing to him. 

(I’ve decided… once my illness is cured, I’ll tell Ellis about my feelings.)

However, while I was making that decision, I didn't notice that Ellis’ twilight coloured eyes had darkened and clouded over. 

…

And so, the search for a cure to my illness began. 

Although, in reality, it was Jude who did most of the actual searching and mixing potential medicine while Ellis took down the pursuers sent by my father and the assassins targeting Jude. 

Meanwhile, I took care of our meals, clothes, and living space, supporting them in their everyday lives. 

— But there was no progress, and time continued slipping away. 

…

Jude: … We’re short on medicinal ingredients, so I’m headin’ out. Be back in half a day. 

Although he’d never admit it, Jude looked worn out as he spoke before leaving the castle.

(Is it really alright to leave everything to Jude? Maybe there’s more I could be doing to help…)

Ellis: … Something on your mind, Kate?

Kate: Yeah. I’m just… frustrated that all I can do is watch from the sidelines…

Ellis: I see… is there anything I can do to help? 

Ellis: I like you, so I want to give you strength.

Kate: eh.

(W-what kind of “like” does he mean…?)

I was a blushing mess but when I glanced at Ellis’ facial expression, he looked the same as always… he didn't look like he was confessing his love. 

Kate: Just in case… Ellis, do you like Jude? 

Ellis: Jude? Yeah, I do. I owe him, after all.

Kate: I-I see…

(... Thank goodness I didn't jump to conclusions. Ellis’ definition of “I like you” is platonic!) 

It was a little disappointing, but I quickly regained my composure and returned to the topic. 

Kate: Umm, anyway… I think I should do some research on my illness too.

Kate: Will you help me?

…

And so, we made our way to the study that Jude said was off-limits to us.

Kate: Found it! 

Thanks to Jude’s meticulous personality, it didn't take long for us to find what we were looking for. 

The research report about my illness was stored neatly in one of the desk drawers. 

Kate: Um, let's see… “Briar Disease”?

According to the report, I contracted the disease by pricking myself on the thorns of a special kind of enchanted briar. 

(Briar? Could it be…) 

I was suddenly reminded of the briar I would talk to as a child. 

(I remember being pricked by one of them and coming down with a high fever.)

(... Maybe that’s when I contracted this illness.)

“When the time comes, the thorn embedded in the body will rapidly grow, destroying the patient from their insides and ultimately resulting in death.” 

“The only solution is to completely eliminate the existence of the briar the thorn came from, whether it is by burning or other means.” 

As I read further, I found out that Jude had already identified the briar in question and it grew in the royal castle’s back garden.

However—.

“The briar is stubborn and unyielding, resisting all attempts to eliminate it.” 

“It's a monstrous plant that regenerates even when burned or cut down. All efforts were in vain.” 

Kate: So Jude concluded that it’s impossible to destroy the briar and started researching other ways to cure the illness.

Ellis: Yeah, he really tried every method he could come up with. He drowned it, froze it, burned it… you name it. 

Ellis: The most painful one was when he chopped it up. 

(Ellis was involved in trying to kill the briar too…)

(Since the briar is thorny, holding it while chopping it up must've hurt really badly.) 

Ellis: … Hey, Kate.

Ellis: Do you truly want to cure your illness and continue living? 

(I want to live, and… I want to keep talking to Ellis more and more.)

Kate: Yeah… of course.

Ellis: I see… so that’s your current wish. 

Ellis: It’s… different from back then. 

For some reason, Ellis wore a rather lonely smile. 

Kate: Ellis…?

Ellis: … I understand your feelings. Well then, let’s go.

Ellis: If we go now, we can kill the briar. 

[3liza]

everyone arguing with material analysis/assertion about how art is a "luxury" has rarely if ever spent rent or food money on art, if they even pay rent or buy their own food, and if they did that would be considered extremely dysfunctional, and thats what i/we mean. artists are not providing a necessary service.

our plane crashes in the Andes and you are not particularly excited about my "can draw that Playboy centerfold of Marge Simpson from memory" like that is not an essential survival skill. lots of extremely skilled workers work in luxury artisan and craft jobs, it's not an insult to say even a very famous and very talented and influential artist is not producing a commodity necessary for the furtherance of human life. none of us are doing that, no matter how we stretch and strain the definitions of "essential" or even things like "morale" or "group identity". i will burn my copy of Finnegan's Wake to stay warm and thats what it comes down to.

i get foamy crazy snarling and biting about the idolization and obfuscation of what artists actually do because it is a labor issue! the public conception of artists as people possessed of a divine talent they dont consciously work to develop like any other skill, and the public idea that we are simply pleased and privileged to make art all day and "not work", something people say to my face every time i get asked "what i do", is largely responsible for the absolute dogshit reality of how subsistence and working class artists have to survive. we usually dont have health insurance unless we're so poor we qualify for medicaid AND live in a state that will enroll us. most of us are too disabled or crazy to go to a real job every day. most of us have tried, over and over, to enter the normal workforce, and have failed, and been forced to develop alternate skills that allow us to make rent in the ten hours per month we're actually functional. many of the artists i know work from bed because standing up is dicey. this has been turned into a charming eccentricity of famous artists and writers instead of people wondering why a person would need to stay in bed all day and take the enormous bother of bringing their stupid pens and paper and writing board or typewriter or whatever to their bed instead of just getting up and getting dressed and going to work. ive done this, i spilled ink in my sheets. its a huge hassle.

and artists play along with this mystique because people dont want to buy paintings from sadlords! they want to buy paintings and books and marge simpson nudes from cool guys who get a lot of chicks and wear rockstar outfits and party a lot, because of the transitive properties! of course!!! this is basic marketing!!!!! and if the artist doesnt play along they turn into Sad Story Artist where they're doing emergency commissions and posting about how sick they are all the time. this is not cool or fun or sexy. it's a sand trap and its very hard to recover from. im struggling with this right now!

famous and successful artists and writers are constantly ending up 60-90 years old with cancer and multiple sclerosis and dementia, being the subject of some sort of public, last-ditch, humiliating GoFundMe because painting paperback covers fr 60 years means you dont get a pension, you often dont even have kids who can take care of you, you dont have life insurance, you dont have health insurance. 'died penniless and alone' is one of the stereotypical artist endings for a reason, that is not fiction. this happened to more artists than i can list on two hands. look up what happened to Peter S. beagle, the guy who wrote The Last Unicorn. you write a book like that you should be set for life, right? NO. thats not how it works

i'm not saying 'all artists are disabled and working class or poor' because that isnt true, observably. nepo babies and trust fund artists exist, obviously. but they take an outsized portion of the spotlight when the public thinks of the concept of "artist". they are not actually the norm. the average artist is probably making under 40k and living in extremely precarious circumstances and has had periods of homelessness, illness, extreme debt and/or bankruptcy.

this is true even for the 'successful' artists. having one or two or ten good projects and being a household name does not save you from just not having the safety net provided by a normal career path. i was very close with a major, famous 2000s network television creator and team that you have heard of. they won awards, they changed culture entirely, they were a big deal. one of them was turned down for a half dozen projects by the same network that made millions or bilions on their franchise over several years (each pitch is completely unpaid btw, imagine carefully preparing a PowerPoint for morons for months at a time for no reimbursement and thent he morons ask you if you can put a teenage witch looking for her lost cat in the alps in it and you're like, haha, well, it's a 4 part hard sci fi miniseries set on Europa and takes place entirely inside a pressurized lander settlement, i mean Ridley Scot said he was interested already and he pitched a bottle episode about a carbon monoxide poisoning, soooooo....and the executives look at each other and they're like "it's jst not really what we're looking for right now, thanks for coming in" and you go to coffee bean and tea leaf and kill yourself and thats sort of what its like. i made that example up it didn't actually happen i'm using an illustrative example), worked on a canceled film, and just. gradually ran out of money. thats what happens. that guy ended up slowly selling off all his belongings, getting roommates in a one bedroom apartment, and then eventually having to just live on a friend's couch for years. famous guy. you probably know his name. another major member of that same team ended up in GoFundMe/commission hell for years (might still be there) because they had to take care of their two dying, dementia patient parents by themselves. these are people who go to GenCon and sign autographs for four hours at a time. THE PUBLIC IS NOT AWARE OF THIS SHIT and i'm sick of it. im sick of going to a gallery opening night ("vernissage") and drinking bad wine and having a guy with an email job that pays six figures and benefits tell me being able to push "undo" on the computer is cheating. that's a real example, that has actually happened to me. more than once.

artists currently have zero labor protections whatsoever. all of us are undercutting each other in an unregulated market and relying on welfare and private insurance and not having families or buying houses. zero security until we get so old all our illnesses and dysfunction finally ground us permanently and then we get turned into a charity case by fans (humiliating) or just fade away into ghosts and die

whats my punchline? idk i dont have one. it's possible and likely that any given artist you meet is permanently in precarity and will be until they die, even the famous ones. the culture of selling art demands that artists do not admit to this in public unless shit gets really really bad. i guess my point is you should know this, as a person who looks at or listens to or reads things that people have made for your amusement, not for your survival