#clock i love your world aaa

[pasteldustart]

some Aleph Null trollcalls with my lil gay aliens

These gave me a chance to both update and tweak their AN designs to be a bit accurate to the world (except Marani but I've got a second trollcall in the works for him) since its been a while.

This webcomic is a huge special interest for me so I had so much fun XD

[presidentheartbeat6]

The Temeraire Playlist...

Hi. Hello. I am here today to ramble on about the music I've got on my temeraire playlist.

My music taste is. Strange. Blame my dad.

GRAND NEW SPIN (GOLD CELESTE): Starting out strong with a song that reminds me of willzing. There are! A lot of these!!! On here. You have been forewarned.

Anyways I think this is from Tharkay's perspective. "A longing for things to begin" (Ok but pining Tharkay. methinks.) / "A place where truth is not a sin" (THEIR HOME!!!! POST CANON!!!!!!!!! yea guess what the truth part is I dare you. I'll give you a hint its their GAY LOVE)

MEDICINE (LOVING): Will Laurence.

"You felt for the words like the wings of a bird, riding the winds of a dark form you heard" (!!!!! TEMRER!!!!!!!!!) / "A voice speaking low, it said 'I swim the deep waters, dreams are my eyes, deeper than blue'" (this but.. Tharkay.. dreaming about blue eyes..)

And then the last few lines are. Laurence to Tharkay & Granby :,)

TWO FOR NERO (EVERYTHING EVERYTHING): Ok so I can't put an everything everything song and NOT talk about it. Fair warning I'm crazy insane about this song. Like wild. My blog name is actually based on the everything everything song called (you guessed it) president heartbeat.

Now this song. Starts out a little strange. You're like 'where are these guys going with this???' And then about halfway through. You get to. The Part. You'll see what I mean. Pllllss tell me what you think about this song I'm so curious if it's just a me thing or what.

Anyways... this song is soo. Will Laurence. But specifically it's Granby talking about him.

"We met inside a war zone" / "And you never tell me anything, you never tell me anything" (EARLY BOOKS LAURENCE POV, HIM & GRANBY WHEN HE'S STILL FIGURING OUT THE CORPS. HEAVY BREATHING.) / "I can't remember dates and times, and I'm sorry for the years I was a shipwreck boy" (Laurence POV amnesia arc. Yeha.) / "I'd rather dash myself up on the rocks, than see you waste away your day with clocks, in every corner of your parent's home" (amnesia arc granble POV gheaaauugh) / "And there's no world war coming in, all the reasons I've been worrying, just forget the parts you'll never need, all these things I'll tell you when you wake up" (SO FUCKED UP SO FUCKED UP SO FUCKED UP. hahahaha Point of View: Granby when his best friend loses all memory of him lol hahaha!!!!!!!! hahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!)

MAKE A CHIIIIIILD. AAA CHIIIILLDDDDD. AAAA FOOORREEEESTTTTT.

ok sorry I'm done. there are even MORE lyrics that relate to them in this song than the ones that I listed btw. some ODDLY specific ones too. I wish I could listen to this song for the first time again.

DRAGON EYES (ADRIANNE LENKER): no this is definitely not just on here cuz dragon is in the song name how dare you. anyways this song is sososoooo willzing.

Just think like ... tharkay's perspective..... "When the hot sand burns my feet, you have cool hands, you are sweet" / "As the coastline is shaped by the wind, as we make love and you're on my skin, you are changing me, you are changing me" / "I just want a place with you, I just want a place" (do I even need to say it?!!?? ok fine. their house. post canon.)

IN OUR BEDROOM AFTER THE WAR (STARS): dare I say Tharkay Laurence Granby friendship.........

"It's us, yes, we're back again, here to see you through, 'til the days end" (YEAH. YEAH. GRANBY AND THARKAY @ LAURENCE.) / "She's gone, she left before you woke, as you ate last night, neither of you spoke" (beautiful awkward early day willzing) / "And if you lost it all, and you lost it, well we'll still be there when your war is over" (AGAIN!!! THEM AT LAURENCE!!)

TO GO HOME (M. WARD): GRANBY & LITTLE>???>?>?>? finally a song NOT about Laurence. except this could probably still be about Laurence if u squint.

"Sailing on a sinking ship, into the sunset in day" (poor granble forced onto all those many. long. boat voyages LOL) / "To think I'll have to give it all up someday" (just thinking Abt how they'd never be able to get legally married and even if they do stay together how they'd live their lives in constant fear of being found out) / "And if I ever treated you mean, you know that it was only because, I'm sorry, I couldn't have you for my own"

IN THE AEROPLANE OVER THE SEA (NEUTRAL MILK HOTEL): Tharkay song :3

"What a beautiful face, I have found in this place, that is circling all 'round the sun" (Tharkay inner monologue whenever he sees Laurence) / "What a beautiful dream, that could flash on the screen in the blink of an eye and be gone from me" (the dangers of Laurence dying in the line of duty, etc, etc) "And one day we will die, and our ashes will fly from the aeroplane over the sea" (thinking about temeraire spreading their ashes lol lol lol I am laughing so hard rn hahahahaha. spreading them TOGETHER I might add. United even in death) "With one you loved so long ago, now he don't even know his name" (*whispers* amnesia laure- *gunshots*)

SIMULATION SWARM (BIG THIEF): Mmmm yum yum I love this song. It sort of gives me Granby & Laurence vibes.

"O my stars, winged creatures, gathering in silken height" (TEEEMMMERAIIRE! sorry I have to.) / "with the drone of fluorescence, flicker, fever, fill the form" (just thinking about Laurence watching over Granby one of the many times he's seriously injured. siiigh.) / "And you could be my brother, once again fall asleep with our backs against each other" / "I'd fly to you tomorrow, I'm not fighting in this war, I wanna drop my arms and take your arms and walk you to the shore"

TOUGH LOVE (FLYTE, LAURA MARLING): auhgguhgh more willzing feelings. just thinking about their adjustment period after fighting in the war where they're both trying to learn how to Be Normal about being in love. thisssss ssoonnggg gives me Tharkay POV vibes.

"I've been trying to hurt you, I've been holding you tight" (the ultimate paradox, pushing away those you love because you're afraid of it, and being so desperately in love you can't fully make yourself do it.) / "I've been learning to love you, am I doing it right?" / "How are you still breathing, with my hands all over your heart?" (I think that while Laurence is still eons from normal, once he comes to terms with it he's a lot... MORE normal about their romance than Tharkay. Laurence trusts him completely and it is. a little disturbing to Tharkay, perhaps)

THE SMOKE (THE SMILE): ohohohoho. this is a fucking PHENOMENAL song.

"It begs me, while I'm sleeping, I desire a second chance, I set myself on fire" (oh YEEESSSS post treason Laurence yum yum yum) / "Wakes me from my sleep, smoke wakes me from" (MUST I EVEN SAY IT. THARKAY RESCUE MOMENT.)

TRIPOLI (PINBACK): I'm too lazy to make an animatic. but if I WERE going to. it would probably be to this song.

"You know what's gonna happen, you know what's gonna happen, he's gonna go down, and he's gonna come back again" (Tharkay somehow miraculously returning to Laurence over and over and over again. soulmates. attracted to each other but also like LITERALLY physically attracted to each other in a magnet way. idk. SOMETHING.)

FORTRESS (PINBACK): THE EGG HUNTTTTTTT!!! HUNT FOR EGG!!!!! DESERT!!!!!!!!!! LAURENCE THARKAY GRANBY BONDING!!!!!!!!

"You and a test of will, too many fallen, too many failed, nobody move, nobody move" (EGG HUNT111 and. bunyips) / "You and I, uneasy, livid" (OOAUGHHQ!! I just think yk like. being stuck out their in the elements day in and day out. all those horrible conditions. and again, the fucking bunyips. so many stressors.... them all being anxious and snappy with each other... angst soooso good...) / "Stop, it's too late, I'm feeling frustrated, I see no sign of fortress, I see no fortress" (looking for water, looking for the egg, looking to catch a FUCKING break for once) / "Another delay, too many hassles, where do we go? How do we follow?"

WILD WEST (GREGORY AND THE HAWK): I love Gregory and the hawk ssoooososososoooooooooooo much. SSOOOSOSOSOOOOO MUCH. I have sooo many of her songs on my aubreyad playlist... yeehhaANYWAYS this song is. soo. Laurence coded.

"Flightless skies, the fear, the doom, it's no surprise" / "Realize there's no sense in losing your mind before your time, in order not to worry, you write the words down, but it's a fools game" (AMNESIA ARC AMNESIA ARC AMNESIA ARC) / "Rise young sun, you're a tireless one, and you'll be back burning when the morning comes" (LAURENCE LAURENCE LAURENCE)

GET NUMB TO IT! (FRIKO): hahhakjdshnjsh would it be mean to say. John Granby. poor baby darling.

"Tip toe out from the backdoor down to the basement, where your funny faces always made me frown" (sneaking into littles' room...) / "And when I'm down, I'll dance in a fever cold and calm, with a sewn on smile and feet swollen and numb" (poor guy :( the granble <3) / "And it doesn't get better, it just gets twice as bad" (JHBKJNKJNKJN. yeah. he literally Cannot Catch a Break bruh.)

OOKAYY!!!!! thank you for reading WOW congrats if you got all the way to the bottom :DDDDDDD listen to one of these songs and tell me when you think :)))!!!!!!

If anyone ever wants to talk music with me literally ever...... pls. I am so here.

[alex-a-fans]

BTTF Year-End Tag Game!

AAA THANK YOU @cheriboms AND @bttf-dork FOR TAGGING ME!!

This year:

How many times would you guess you watched the first back to the future movie?

Too many times to count...

Did you get any sweet bttf merch? If so, what!

Yes! BTTF Playmobil advent calendar and an off-brand Funko pop Doc!

How many cans of Pepsi Free did you chug this year?

Pepsi free? None. Normal Pepsi on the other hand.... Over 50 cans for sure.

What was a favorite bttf fanfic you read this year?

There were so many good ones, but if I had to choose... I choose 3!

Oh, How the World has Changed by @itsthemorph I just love the idea of Clara in 1985, even if it's only one chapter, I am sure the other parts will be great :)

June of Doom: let the Suffering Begin by @unknooooow. Now these ones are dark. They have become my Roman Empire, so I think about it once every few days. But again, I love angst, especially realistic. :)

Double Visions by @daryfromthefuture. While there were many good ones this one stuck out due to it having the talk of Citizen Brown (the not-so-silly doc). And it's also very touching and captures the friendship spirit greatly!

A favorite bttf fanart you saw this year? (please give us a link, not a screencap/repost!)

AGAIN MANY GOOD ONES.

this one by @future-boi LITTLE MARTY LITTLE MARTY

this one by @maxintime Cause Browns my beloved <3

this one by @bttf-dork (do u have any idea how long it took for me to find it, I thought I imagined it) THE COLORS, THE SHAPES AAA.

This one by @cheriboms The silly, the goofy, the little Baby Emmett (I WILL EAT THE FANART)

Did you create any bttf fanart or fanfic? If you did, what one(s) are you proudest of?

My time to shine :) /j

I am especially proud of June of Doom chapter 11 (Better known as Doc Has a Stroke literally). It took me two months to write, and it is still the longest one chapter I ever wrote (3k words). Also! I am afraid of hospitals and blood, so I have no idea how I wrote it. Also believe it or not, it was inspired by the animated series...

One more writing project I am proud of is Alteration. It is not because of how much I wrote, but how much I am still planning, and how many Ideas I have for it. I have every single detail planned :)

With art it's a bit more tricky. Since I am not THAT proud of any of them, but BTTF 2 end scene redraw is still one of my favs :)

How many times were you late for school this year?

At least three times, due to reasons outside of my control. But I hate being late.

Did you watch any other movies/tv shows with BTTF actors in them?

My Favourite Martian (1999) Where Lloyd plays an Alien. I watched it because of my silly alien doc au. And I had an amazing angst idea out of it (I wrote it for June of Doom)

That is about it...

Was there a memorable moment you heard a Huey Lewis song this year?

In the car. My parents are tired of me ranting about BTTF so Imagine me (not a singer) scream-singing Back In Time. :DDD

How many times did you fall down this year?

Honestly, either I didn't. Or I did too many times to count. Cause I don't remember

Did you get to see BTTF: The Musical? What was your experience like!

No...

How many times did your mom retell the story of how she and your father met?

Not many, maybe once.

If you could describe your year in a BTTF quote, which one would it be?

This one is the toughest.

It will either be "I repeat, Verne, this is a fool's errand." "Does that mean you're coming?" I always tagged along when I knew my friend was making a dumb decision.

Or “Why do we have to cut these things so damn close?”

⚡️LIGHTNING ROUND⚡️ Did you get to: go on any trains, skate on a skateboard, ride a horse, drive a Delorean, run in the rain, go to a dance, hang up a clock, play the guitar, pull an all-nighter, read science fiction, or drive thru Burger King this year?

To the dance, I even went as Marty McFly. (Even if it was 80' themed I did not win, they did not get the joke :(

Your future is whatever you make it! So what are you going to make of this coming year?

More art. Even more angsty fanfiction :)

I am tagging @unknooooow and I believe everyone else has been tagged. Maybe @jayisnotdrawing @bri-to-the-future @brinkle-brackle and @bentothefuturee @pine-killer55

Game by: @mjf-af

[celestie0]

hiiii ellie 👋🏻

just wanna take a moment to let you know how much your writing means to me :') i'm kinda shy about doing this but fuck it, imma do it so here goes nothing lol.

for starters, i'm relatively new to this platform. i was pulled in of course by none other than satoru x reader smut... but what REALLY dialed me in was your stories.

it started with ihm, i love how you write gojo and i live for the bantering 🤭 the characters feel so real and fleshed out, you impressed me right off the bat.

so after that, i found kickoff and girl, i literally BINGE READ the entire series, staying up until like 3 am LOL. i remember laying on my couch, going through all the emotions. kicking my feet, laughing, feeling pain from the angst 😭 looked at the clock and was like oh shit, tomorrow is gonna suck but WORTH IT 🫠

and the thing is... while yes, the smut was amazing (guuuurl especially when i'm ovulating, you have fed us good 😩🤚🏻), it wasn't the main thing driving me to your stories. what really hooked me in was the way you write and how you are able to bring so much emotion to these characters. also, you are reeeeeally good at building up their relationships 😮‍💨

i've said this before but i just want to reiterate that you are the person that encouraged me to start writing on this platform. you seem like overall just a really freaking chill person too, i've always loved your vibes (also we're west coast twins i'm in socal 🫶🏻)

anyways, after starting to write i see how much hard work and effort goes into having this hobby. it really disheartens me to hear about the crap some people say, those people are really selfish and inconsiderate.

you have NO obligation to do this yet here you are, sharing your passion with us, and we are blessed for it 😇

anyways, this kind of became a side tangent... but i guess i just want you to know that the people that are sending rude shit to you and nici are on my list 😤

you are a queen, i hope you are enjoying your trip, and staying healthy. sending you lots of love 💛

hi my love omg i’m so sorry it took me so long to respond to this ask i wanted to have some proper time to respond but i read it when you sent it n it made my whole day seriously!! 🥺💕 you are so so kind

HAHAH i’m so glad you had fun binging kickoff!! that’s a lot to read in one sitting xD hope it didn’t ruin your sleep schedule TOO much skdhfksdjh

thank u sm for your kind words about my writing :”’’’) i spend a manic amt of time daydreaming about my stories n wondering ab my characters n i think i try to value character development n personalities the most so to hear that you are really feeling the emotion to my stories and characters means the world to me fr, and for you to appreciate it like aaaaaa i swear it’s what keeps me going n writing n i want to thank you for help keeping my passion alive <3 ALSO SO GLAD TO HEAR THAT ABOUT THE BUILDING RELATIONSHIPS THING BCI WORRY AB THAT A LOT SO ITS REALLY REASSURING HAHA

yaaaay fellow writer <3 i think it’s so cool how writers kinda domino off one another n we blossom into writers of our own it’s truly amazing feeling to know i inspired someone to write as well!! AND OMG SAME I AM ALSO IN SOCAL!! AAA

ugh yeah. i feel like you don’t really know how difficult it is to write until you start doing it yourself haha. i have gained SUCH large respect for my fave fanfic writers over the past year that i’ve been writing because i realize the dedication it takes, esp something done for free. i do wish some people were nicer, but alas that’s the reality i suppose. AW THANKS FOR LOOKING OUT FOR US <33

you are just SUCH an angel and i can feel the immaculate vibes from you through the screen. ty again sm for this message my love omg :’’) i really needed it. sending you SO much love as well <333

[my-never-ending-nightmare]

Baldur's Gate 3 is absolutely incredible and the best $90 I've spent since making reservations two days in a row at the One World Trade Center observatory in NYC. I seriously haven’t been this totally immersed in a fantasy setting or as frustrated by the real life responsibilities pulling me away from it since The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion released all the way back in 2006. Except back then I'd be at school watching the clock while daydreaming about the whole new world on my computer that was just waiting for me to come back and explore; while 17 years later I'm doing the exact same thing but at work lol.

But I love how much more challenging and thought provoking BG3 is compared to Oblivion. Like, you actually gotta really think about what you do & say in this game because the consequences can be severe and permanent - which is something that practically all video games are increasingly afraid to do nowadays. Hell, even in a game as old as Oblivion you couldn't kill certain NPCs if they were vital to the main storyline or important quests. Whereas in Baldur's Gate 3 there's absolutely nothing stopping you from ruining the game for yourself except for your own restraint and caution.

Just like the table top game it's based on, if it's physically or technically possible for your character to do something then you're free to attempt it - and whether or not it'll work as intended is dependent on a combination of stats, skills and chance (dice rolls). And while I don't want to sound like a poser since I've never actually played D&D, I am familiar with it enough to say with some degree of confidence that BG3 is the best Dungeons & Dragons experience you can possibly have alone.

It's serious AAA quality without all the predatory microtransactions and bland, uninspired gameplay that is all to common for video games made with a AAA budget. And I love it.

Oh, and one last thing: Shadowheart = Best Companion (pic related) and anyone who says otherwise is simply wrong lol

[after-witch]

AAA open requests?? i got so excited, i absolutely love your work and characterization hngnnhg <333 my request... uh... how about chrollo popping back into poor darling's life after she thought she mad a clean escape, started a new life, things were looking up, etc. whether or not you decide to do this, thank you for taking the time to read it !! have a good day <3

Title: Learn to Live [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: After Chrollo, you learn to live again. 

Word Count: 3528

Notes: yandere, mentions of abuse, chrollo is an asshole

You learn to live again.

It takes time. A lot of time. A year… two… now three.

But you learn to live again.

It doesn’t all come at once, but in steps, gradual increments that slowly allow something resembling normality to fall back into your life.

You learn to wake up in the morning and not dread opening your eyes, heart thudding in anticipation of his face being there. It took you more than a year to sleep fully through the night, body and mind no longer flinging themselves out of sleep at the slightest hint of noise.

You learn to enjoy the warmth of the sun through the windows, the sounds of birds and people; the telltale alarm-clock of a neighbor through thin apartment walls, the splatter of a baby’s bowl of cereal on the floor, no longer viewing every noise as a potential trick, a sign that your door was about to get busted open by the one person you never wanted to face again.

You learn to walk into a cafe for a lunch (your choice, your treat) and sit down to eat instead of grabbing takeout and running back to wherever you’re currently staying, slamming the locks (one, two--the third and fourth you bought from a security company) as fast as you can behind you. You  learn not to jerk your head back every time a restaurant door opens, lest he waltz in and catch you unawares.

You learn to move less, to trust more. Changing rooms--motels, hotels, rental apartments, shelters, couch shares--every three days turns into every week turns into every month and now you’ve been settled for 6 months in the same place. It’s beginning to feel like home, and not just a place to stay, not just four walls between you and him.

You’re still cautious. Of course you are. Deep down, you know you’ll never be fully rid of the anxiety, the worry that he’s going to pop back up in your life. But it’s been so long, and you know him, and you know that if he was going to find you, he surely would have done it by now.

Maybe your constant moves, your wigs and fake names, your deliberate lack of a pattern threw him off your trail and now it’s impossible to pick it up again.

Maybe his goals and ambitions have finally taken precedence over his fascination, his obsession, with you.

Maybe he’s dead. It’s unlikely, but not impossible, that someone might finally get one over on Chrollo. It’s not like he’s short on enemies. So the thought that his body is cold and you’re forever out of his reach comes to mind, now and then, producing a frustrating complex reaction deep in your gut. You hate him, you do. And yet--.

It hasn’t been easy going for you. How could it be? You managed to escape and found yourself thrust back into the world--bright and busy and terrifying--with nothing to your name, nothing but the clothes on your back and shoes on your feet, feet that ran and ran until they bled, blisters popping.

You remember the first year vividly, like a dream you can’t shake away. Endless nights with hardly any sleep, waking up every time you seemed to get comfortable, fearful, worried. Running from city to city, town to town, sure that the moment you felt relaxed he would pounce. Making money any way you could--that is to say, not always making it, but stealing it, too. Doing jobs under the table, putting up with sweat and grease and groping hands at ratty diners, places that didn’t care about references or fake IDs.

Snatching bits of life where you could; a TV show in a motel room offering 20 minutes of levity, a book pilfered from a library where you didn’t want to fill out a library card, didn’t want to leave even a hint of paper trail behind you, keeping your attention as you take buses, trains, leaving places so quickly you don’t remember their names.

And all the while, looking over your shoulder, to the side, in front of you, constantly, always, hoping against hope that he doesn’t find you. Because he can’t. If he finds you--if he finds you after this, then you know you’ll never escape from him again. You get one chance with Chrollo, one shot, one unaware moment to blindside him.  

And it was this knowledge that made living again so hard. Because if you slip… if you slip, and he finds you, then it will have all been for nothing.

But eventually, eventually, logic and reason begin to win out. It’s been a year. Then two years. And now three, almost three and a half. Three years that you’ve been free of him. His rules. His suffocating presence, hovering over you even when he was away from whatever apartment you were stashed in at the time.

You’re only human, aren’t you? And you can’t live on the run, can’t live with snatches of humanity forever. So you let yourself relax. You have to.

Your fears ease--not entirely, kept carefully cultivated along with a necessary amount of caution, embers that you won’t let go out--and eventually, eventually, something like happiness starts to replace them.

And it’s this happiness--not a floaty ethereal thing that slips through your fingers, but something more solid, something you can almost grip--which leads you to decide to put down some roots. Not permanent ones, not ones that will keep you somewhere forever. But roots that you hope will let your happiness grow bigger than a kitchen window sproutling, grow into something you can watch blossom.

So you find a town. A small town, but not too small. Quiet, but not too quiet. A town that could be a carbon-copy of so many others, a town that’s boring enough to be unassuming but not so boring that it’s a perfect place to hide. You know better than to pick those--it would be the first place he’d look.

It’s here, in the confines of this small town, that you take your first real steps back into living. It’s here that you find yourself able to stay longer, feel stronger; feel like he’s not ten steps behind you on the street, waiting to snatch you by the waist and drag you into the back of a car. It’s here that your roots flourish.

You rent an apartment and it’s cozy and small and perfect. You clip flowers from a hiking trail, tossing them into vases that someone had set up on their curb with a FREE sign; chipped and imperfect and waiting to be transformed again. Your apartment might be plain, and the hot water in your shower runs out too quickly and your next door neighbor likes to work out loudly at 6 AM, but at least it smells beautiful.

You apply for a job. One you like. Quiet and unassuming, a circulation assistant at the local library. You put books away and help old men learn to use computers to talk to their grandchildren and smile indulgently when children sign up for their first cards, scrawling their names with a slow, patience practice. You walk to a local restaurant every day for lunch, ordering the same thing so often that they have it ready to go almost right when you walk in.

You make friends. Not close ones--you can’t let anyone get that close to you, not anymore--but ones who you meet for drinks after work, who come over sometimes to watch movies and eat takeout. They share their secrets with you, and you make up secrets to share with them. It’s a nice sort of companionship, albeit one that makes you ache for your friends from before, friends you can never contact again, no matter how long it’s been since you escaped. You won’t ever risk it--risk them.

You’re even thinking about taking a class at the local community center. A night class, nothing fancy. They offer a surprising amount of programs, many of them aimed at retirees and parents whose children have flown the nest, looking for something to occupy their evenings or help them find a new career path. Language classes and hobby classes and skill training.

You’ve been thinking about signing up for a medical transcription class, something you can use to make extra money on the side. It would be nice to afford newer clothes, stuff that isn’t from the thrift shop, outdated and worn but comfy enough. Of course, you’ll have to save up to pay for the class’s hefty fee first--$1,000.

It’s the transcription course and the dancing numbers that are on your mind when something happens that causes those well-kept embers of fear to flare up, dancing sparks on your skin.

You’re back from lunch, the taste of your regular order (salad, fries, chocolate milkshake) still on your lips. You brought the community center’s class catalog to lunch and had browsed through it as you ate, dipped your fries in your shake, nibbled on tomatoes and cucumbers.

When you got back to the library, it was quiet--no surprise, the most bustle in the day typically happened before lunch, when the children’s story time brought in parents and nannies with sleep-deprived eyes, eager (and some not-so-eager) children in tow. Sometimes older people came in after lunchtime, egg salad and coffee on their breath, asking you to help them on the computer. Occasionally, a college student, home for the semester, walking the book stacks with looks that you thought were nostalgia

But today, after lunch, nobody else is in the library except yourself and the staff busy in the back, sorting through the drop-box piles, checking for damage, repairing books stained with drinks or drawn-in by children with access to too many crayons.

So to say you are surprised by the appearance of an elegantly-dressed woman, heels tapping on the dingy carpet, would be an understatement.

She’s dressed up, that’s for certain--far too dressy to be waltzing into the library. A deep red dress clings to her body, trailing down past her knees, a large slit in the side offering a glimpse of her thigh. Her hair is styled, but a bit messy, tousled, trailing behind her shoulders and down her back. Her lipstick is ever-so-smeared and you try not to stare. You wonder if she’s an actress, maybe, or--well, it’s not your place to judge, and you shove the thoughts aside.

“Can I help you?” you ask, voice an octave or two higher, customer-service-mode.

She waits a few moments before answering, as if she’s not sure exactly what she’s doing here, either.

“Oh, yes. I’m looking for books on relationships. You know,” she continues, leaning across the reference desk, voice lower and breath tinged with wine and a morning without mouthwash, “relationship… advice.” Her cadence seems off and there’s something odd, something wrong, but you can’t quite pin it down. She seems drunk, almost.

You smile. You hope it doesn’t seem forced. Your mind reels for a moment, running down the classification system drummed into your head after you landed the job.

“Relationship help is probably going to be in the 305s or 306s. You might find some in the 150s, too.” You pause. “But if you need any more help, please let me know and I’ll go check the catalog.”

She leans back, straightening, seeming almost doll-like in her movements.

“Thank you,” she says, smiling, showing her teeth, the smear of her lipstick. She turns and starts walking away towards the shelves, and you can’t help but notice she’s limping a little. Maybe she’s not drunk--maybe she’s…

You make a mental note to check on her in a bit, look her over again. Maybe you missed some signs that she needs help. Bruising? Shaking? Maybe she got in a fight with her boyfriend last night and he roughed her up and she’s trying to find ways to fix him. Maybe not, maybe you’re just looking for signs of things that aren’t there, an overactive imagination spurned on by your own history. But it’s better to be safe than sorry. Better to be wrong and overreacting than right and passive.

You find that you don’t want to wait, actually, so you stick your cheery “Be Right Back!” sign on your desk and get up, slowly making your way towards the stacks where the woman wandered off.

You’ll just take a look, you think, just to see if there are signs of bruises that you can ask about. You imagine, briefly, quickly, in a rush: asking her if she’s all right, her tearing up, you offering her your shoulder and directing her to a private room and asking if she is in danger and if she needs to call the police and if she has a safe place to stay.

You don’t know why you imagine all this so suddenly. Maybe the nurturing of your own freedom makes you more eager to help others.

Maybe you just want to imagine doing something with your life that isn’t so damn passive.

You’ve been running for so long, and now that you’re building a life for yourself, why not help others? Why not make a difference, instead of being a ghost, a shadow, a diner waitress one night and a thief the next morning and a box hauler the next afternoon? Always fading into the background, always changing your looks, afraid, terrified, that someone will recognize you and point the way. Point Chrollo right toward you.

But now, here, in this town, you can be something more than a wisp. You can be someone. You can be that nice library worker who notices when kids need help finding their parents, when an elderly person isn’t getting enough to eat, when a woman comes into the library with suspicious bruises and a need for relationship advice. You can be someone.

So you weave your way into the stacks, conscious of being quiet, of not seeming like you’re following her.  You want her to be comfortable with you. You catch a glimpse of her hair, of her body bent over, scanning the books.

And then a voice comes from behind you.

“You always were a soft one, weren’t you?”

You always thought you’d run, when he found you. You thought you’d grab the nearest heavy object and chunk it directly into his face and run as fast as you could, tearing through doors and crowds to find an escape route.

Instead you are frozen to the spot. Incapable of moving. Incapable of doing anything but shaking, a cold, horrible terror shooting through you as your hear his footsteps getting closer. They seem to sound in slow motion, everything feels slow, the air around you stagnant as his hands wrap around your waist, as his chin dips to rest on the top of your head.

Despite the years, his touch is still so familiar. Despite the years, his cologne sparks memories.

The woman from earlier steps into view, her movements now more erratic than before. You hear Chrollo tapping on something, and she drops to the ground.

Ah. There’s antenna sticking out of the back of her neck.

“Is she--” you begin, stopping yourself when you realize you don’t want to know the answer.

He hums, not answering your question.

You suppose it doesn’t matter. You won’t be around long enough in this town to find out if she’s okay, or if the little girl who picked out a new book series enjoyed them, or if you’d ever be able to save up the money for the transcription course. You’re not going to take a night class or eat your lunch at the cafe or walk along the hiking trail, looking for new flowers. All that is over. You learned to live again and it didn’t even matter. It didn’t even matter.

Sweat trickles down your back, and you start to feel hyper-aware of it all. The way his arms are wrapped around you, solid and constricting. The way his breath passes over your head, gentle and calm, unlike your own increasingly erratic breathing. The way his grip is pressing you against his back, unrelentingly close.

You feel sapped of energy when he lets go, unable to move as he steps around, helpless to avoid it when his hand grips your chin and forces you to look up--to look at him.

His gaze is unreadable, as  it always was. That much hasn’t changed.

“You’ve had your… fun,” he says, the last word coming out so condescending that you can’t help but feel hurt. “But it’s time to end this now. We’re going back.”

Your throat feels dry and your voice croaks a little when you speak, a spark of defiance running through the coldness that kept you still earlier.

“How long have you known? How did you find me?”

Did you make a mistake? When did you make it? You want to know--you have to know. Was it someone else who gave him the lead, or did you leave a breadcrumb somewhere, or maybe a host of breadcrumbs that led him here, led him to you. You were being smart about it, you really were. So how? 

He keeps your chin in his hand as he tilts your face to one side, then the other. Examining you like you were a pet, a project, a rat in a lab to be studied and written about.

“I see.” He gives a soft smile and the sight of it makes your stomach twist. “You think knowing when I found out will make you feel better about all this.” He drops his hand, but you keep your chin up at his gaze as he shoves his hands in his pockets, the smile he’s bearing now smug and satisfied. 

“Suffice to say that I’ve kept up with you for some time. You’re quite the little adventurer, when you need to be. It’s something I admire about you.”

His smile, the banter, all of it sparks memories that gives you back something inside you. The version of you that you imagined would get the hell out of dodge the moment you saw him again.

“Just leave me alone,” you say, practically spitting. “Just--just fuck off and leave me alone. I’m happy here.”

He purses his lips.

“Don’t be so stubborn, dear. I can still kill her, you know.” He jerks his head towards the woman on the floor, and you can now see that her chest is rising and falling. “Or the others working in the back.” He brings a hand out of his pocket, holding his chin in a practiced gesture of thought. “Perhaps we can visit that diner you were at for lunch. Or your friends. What’s her name, the one who always has one drink too many when you go out?”

He’ll kill them. Of course he will. He’s told you as much before. Only know it’s a new set of people, people you like, people you imagined liking you. People you wanted to live with, if only for a short time. But he’ll kill them, and it will be your fault. He’s told you that before, too. That anything he does is up to you. It’s up to you if he takes you outside, if he lets you eat at restaurants, if he lets you visit museums and gardens and shopping malls with him. It’s up to you if he kills your friends and family, or if they stay safe and sound.

It’s up to you if you walk out of this library, out of his town, with blood on your hands.

You feel your entire body sag in defeat, deflating energy seeping into the floor. You stare behind him, at a bookshelf. Someone clearly ignored the sign telling patrons to put books on the cart, not the shelf, and they put it back in the wrong spot. You reach out, side stepping him, ignoring the curious look on his face as you fix the patron’s mistake.

You close your eyes when it’s done, shutting out the sight of the books you’ll never touch, never rearrange, again.

“What do you want me to do?”

 You feel his touch, his hand around your shoulder, and that’s answer enough. You’re going with him. You’re going back with him, wherever that means. An apartment or penthouse or hotel. And you’re never going to leave, because like hell he’ll give you this opportunity again. You slipped, you slipped and you’re stuck.

“There’s my smart girl,” he says.

You don’t feel smart anymore.

He squeezes your shoulder before wrapping his arm around it, guiding you away from the stack, away from the unconscious woman on the floor. Towards the entrance of the library, every step feeling like lead, like dragging your legs through water. You can see a nondescript car waiting at the front entrance, engine on. You dread the idea of getting inside. You dread the idea of hearing the door slam, of knowing Chrollo will be there every step of the way. 

You glance back at the reference desk as you’re lead out the door. You never had time to take down the sign.

Be Right Back!

[choptop-sawyer]

Hi again 😎💫 im here to dig at ur brain again bcs i. M. Aaa sorry i just love ur stuff but. I have this kinda rly specific storyline type hc area and I'd love to hear any hcs you might get from it if its at all jr thing. But um I keep sometimes thinking back to the idea of kinda, vaguely growing up in the same area as the Sawyers, being childhood friends (and being stupid 2gether, running arount the countryside, ditching school & playing in corn fields) -

But then having to leave in your late teens to school / whatever (I mean 😎 my sappy ass also thinks abt mutual pining w Bobby but you know...... nearly unrelated.......)

Then, later on (Bobbys now Chop Top, Nubbins is..... dead I guess but also >:( maybe not, the family is up to being a mess etc) returning to town to take a break from work or whatever. N meeting up w the family again, i mean, oblivious to the bullshit they get up to but.... yk

This is a bit rambly i should probs have waited to sleep but I can't get the thought of returning to the Sawyer door wearing Bobbys tie dye sweatshirt that hr borrowed u years ago and all the impact of being a former family member bc u were also kind of an outsider or whatever but also the drama of leaving so uwu sksjd

This got so long. All i wanted to ask is: sawyer family headcanons for a childhood friend returning to town after being away for years. Rip.

THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS god I love the image too of just standing in the doorway,, you're not home, you've changed a little bit, but you still fit into some of the old aspects you know so well they fit you and cover you.

Actually this is great because that fic that I swear exists has pretty much the same premise but!!! I can make this one less tragic than that one. 😎

(This is mostly Chop Top n you centric please don't mind)

Also this timeline is all fucky. I think that as soon as Chop came home from Vietnam the Sawyers had basically uprooted themselves and were living in North Texas because of the... Hardesty incident. But like can we pretend that that never happened they r still there in Newt? Just for this. (Hope you like it!)

Chop Top's Childhood Friend Returns

You don't think you would have turned out the way you did without the Sawyers.

They were the main element of your childhood, a mystery that you had to be a part of. A mystery, because they were closed off. Mistrustful. The sickness of small towns carried to the extreme, because they were mostly alone. The loneliness made them more miserable, the misery made them more isolated. A cycle, a legacy.

So it was a a miracle that you were even allowed to be apart of some of it, but you attribute that miracle to Bobby.

He seemed to think you were as much of mystery as what you thought the Sawyers were. Two kids looking through a small window into another world. But he liked that. He liked that you were something different, something new. From beyond that small world of loneliness that lived in the house.

You learned quickly that he had a desire for anything beyond that world. So he'd invite you out with him, when you were kids, to run free in the tall grass, when you got older, to drive with him to places unknown. He had a knack for finding these odd places, and he always brought you along with the music cranked up loud on the radio.

Bobby told you many times that he wanted to see the world. He had this lust for life that went beyond the restlessness of the young. He also said that he wanted to bring you along with him when he saw the world. You didn't ever mention how that always made your heart skip a beat when he said that.

Maybe you should have. But the past is the past and you can't change that.

You knew the other Sawyers too, but Bobby tended to avoid them sometimes. But occasionally, you got to hang out with them.

Nubbins was an enigma. You didn't think Nubbins was his real name. But that's the only one you heard from him, but the name situation was the least confusing thing. He was the most open person you knew. And yet you couldn't understand him, and decided at some point that you wouldn't ever. But he was fun. His energy was infectious, if he was filled with joy, you couldn't help but laugh with him too. That was Nubbins, so absent of any purposeful deceit that he was almost a mirror, you saw yourself around him, sometimes it was uncomfortable, but other times it was fun.

Bubba was the opposite. He seemed to be legitimately wary of you. Bobby once told you that Bubba didn't like to leave the house, ever. He stayed and did the chores. You wondered if he minded, being stuck with all the chores but Bobby said he didn't. It was comforting for him. Always having something set to do. You only saw him once. Nubbins had made him tag along when he needed him to hang some things from a tree. Bones from indeterminate animals, a clock with a nail through it. You don't think Nubbins actually needed Bubba to reach the branches (he climbed pretty well) but he just wanted his little brother to see his work. Bubba didn't make eye contact with you the entire time. He was wholly focused on his task of helping Nubbins. But he was gentle when he helped his brother, careful, and for that you liked him.

Drayton was... well. He was the one Bobby argued with the most. He was his brother, but with how much age between the two, it was almost hard to believe sometimes. Drayton was the one that everybody in Newt knew the most. People liked him well enough, but they said he was odd behind his back. He knew that. You don't think he trusted anything outside the insular world he and his family had existed in for years, and was at odds with Bobby because he didn't get why Bobby wanted anything to do with the world outside.

Oftentimes you would see Bobby after he and Drayton got into it. He'd be fuming, but he'd smile when he saw you. You'd leave with him whenever he came to you. These adventures were the most fun you had when you were there.

The other times you'd go off were when he'd convince you to skip school. Bobby never went himself. He didn't get the idea of all those kids sitting in classrooms for hours, doing nothing but writing and listening. Why do that when you can find things out for yourself? Get into some trouble? In his mind, he was saving you from a very boring thing.

You two knew the area around Newt well. The fields and the flat expanses were the best kind of playground. Your dreams were still set in them. A kind of sunshine filled melancholy.

Bobby told you things in the grass. His dreams yes, but his own thoughts. On music, on late night radio, on movies, on you. He perhaps thought of you as wonderful as voices on the radio, stars on the screen. He never told you that though. But your name was never far from his mouth when Bobby talked about the things he loved.

You and him loved each other as much as two kids who didn't know how to could. He was always on your mind now, with not much tangible objects to remember him with. A photograph taken by Nubbins, your faces blurred because you were laughing. A button, the pin on the back bent. A sweatshirt, which he tie dyed himself, and gave to you one night. The colors were faded. You never did get to return it.

The years away did nothing to lessen thoughts of him. No, they just blurred all together now, and the stream of the sunshine filled melancholy was almost endless. You needed a break. There was only one place you could think of that could help you with that.

So you came back. All things led back to this place eventually. Newt was dying, or dead. Didn't you see somewhere that when a ship went down, it took everything with it? You didn't want to stay for long. But you had to see all of them, you had to know that they were all not these strange figures you had dreamt up.

You went right to the house. You'd never actually been allowed inside, Bobby just always said something along the lines of 'Grandma and Grandpa are napping upstairs' or 'there's a mess' (never mind that he could care less usually about messes.) But you figured he had had a good reason. Maybe he was embarrassed.

When you knocked on the door, your heart was pounding. And that was all. Nothing happened, no indication that anyone was there. You waited, the sweatshirt was too hot but you didn't want to take it off.

Maybe you should come back another time. You were just about to turn around and leave when the door burst open, almost whacking you in the face. And there (you couldn't believe your eyes you couldn't this was a dream) he was.

Bobby had a hammer raised over his head, grinning, he was poised to swing it down, but then he saw you and he felt as if he was in a dream too.

It's been so long. He thought he made you up, a dream to carry him through misery, and you looked the part, even as you stood before him on the doorway. The light of the setting sun shone behind you, heat waves shimmered in the dusk, and you... you.

Facing each other, you stood, just staring. Over head the sky grew colorful, in the fields the grass whispered in the wind. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. Bobby dropped the hammer and grabbed for your face, and he held it, fingers digging in so tight it hurt.

"H-hey you." He said, and fell to his knees, releasing your face. You numbly touched the marks his fingers left. Bobby still looked like a man who had seen a ghost.

You called his name, and his eyes looked lost, like he hadn't heard it in a long time. He looked up at you, and you could really get a good look at him. His face was leaner, he looked sickly and wiry, but his eyes were just as you remembered. You sank down to the porch to sit with him.

"Fuck... FUCK I didn't... I- I thought ya'd forgotten all about me... uh.. uhm. Fuck! I mean, r-really! Turnin' up out of the blue like you're some kinda... ghost or whatever... WHOA man... like, ya here to return m-my, my sweatshirt? You're wearin' it, you can keep it! You look better in it anyway... heh, fuck." He rambled on and on, hands tensing and twitching as if they were moving to touch you again, just to reaffirm your existence. Did he know how glad you were to see him? Did he know that you hadn't felt right for the longest time being away?

You forgot all about the sweatshirt, the hammer he had raised with a sadistic grin. You reached out and held one of his twitching hands, and he stilled and stopped talking. There was a peace now.

It didn't seem possible for your heart to feel this full. But it was. And by god, if this wasn't the best decision you made in your life to visit your old hometown, if only just for this moment.

Bobby stood, with your hand still in his, pulling you up. He smiled at you, and you knew you still loved him, and in your deepest heart, you knew he loved you too.

But this time around, maybe you and him could love each other right.

[normal-thoughts-official]

Thots on a figure skating au??? 🅱️lease

hmmmmmmm ok so disclaimer that i know nothing about figure skating so i'm just making up whatever

you got me in a difficult position here cuz on the one hand, i'd love for magnus to be a trainer/coreographer. i think it suits him wonderfully and that while obviously he is great at dancing and loves it, i think that he's more on the creative side of things, you know? so i could imagine something like figure skater alec and trainer magnus. and like alec is a shadowhunter so of course that demands a high level of control over your body that is similar to a figure skater's

but at the same time its funny to me to try to imagine alec figure skating when hes a fucking giant like that because like hes so big?? and when ur big like that ur kind of like... mandatorily graceless and clumsy to a degree methinks (not in a like oh hes always tripping and blushing way, more like the "you're on my leg, you asshole" blooper), because things aren't made for you. like really its an actual matter of accessibility sometimes, especially if you actually have the proportions of a real person like alec does (well, except for the yaoi mcfuckhands. they look big even compared to the rest of his ridiculous body he just b standing there and im like christ edward fingerhands we get it) cuz then Everything Is Bigger Than It Should ya feel

so yeah i can't really imagine alec in like, spandex being all graceful and shit, but at the same time rationally i could imagine that for his character, but also no. so i can't really go with that idea without laughing

but also i can't imagine him as a trainer/coreographer and i don't know who the fuck else is involved with figure skating anyway so is alec like, the janitor or some shit???? some fucking basketball player who sees him at the olympics??? lord help me i have no idea

OK SO IT'S BEEN LIKE 5 MONTHS SINCE I FIRST PUT THE FIRST PART OF THIS ANSWER IN MY DRAFTS (rip anon im so sorry) and i THINK i got it!!! alec could be like, the uhh personal trainer? physical trainer? YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN like the one dedicated to making sure the figure skater's body is. capable of. dancing. idk how to explain it but you do get it don't you??? ok

i'm mostly going off my dancing experience here (i had dance classes for like, 10 years of my life, and ugh i miss it) and like besides dancing you always have to train like lifting and doing localized training and stuff because you can't really dance if you don't have strength and flexibility and stamina and all that stuff. the only time i would willingly work out was for dancing lmao especially when i was in my hiphop crew. anyway

and while for me the one responsible for that part of training was the same person as my teacher/coreographer (or when i was doing hiphop it was just. on me to do that lmao but i'm not complaining) i figure when you're a professional and not just a dumb kid that's probably two different people, right? if not it is now. idc

i could go with figure skater magnus and trainer alec but also im really feeling the dynamics of coreographer magnus and trainer alec? like it'd be cute/funny to see them trying to work together for that ya know. so sorry that this feels less like a figure skating au especially since it took me so long to answer it but aaa

but also i mean as a coreographer magnus would have to know how to do it obviously so you would most definitely get a figure skating magnus. alec going to close up the gym and seeing magnus practicing by himself just for fun, anyone? and magnus looks gorgeous as ever way more gorgeous than whoever they're coaching but that's just alec's opinion and magnus kind of stops like "oh, i didn't know you were here" and alec's like "oh oops. anyway keep going you're great at this" and magnus feels a little self conscious but soon he gets lost in it again because really he loves doing this and alec is just appreciating the artwork :)

ANYWAY the dynamics of trainer and coreographer are fun. magnus showing up to alec like "hey alec so i need some heavy lifting on them arms cuz meliorn [idk i don't have any better ideas for who they could be coaching] is gonna carry an elephant onstage" and alec is like "uhh" and meliorn is like "a fake elephant" and alec is like "i mean good but i still have questions"

and magnus is like "obviously we would never use trained elephants, the way they are treated is inhumane" and alec is like "you're completely right but also that's your only worry when it comes to meliorn carrying a real elephant?" and magnus is like "i'm sure you could pull it off ;) you're the best after all" and alec gives him that amused smile

advantages of meliorn: they don't care about the flirting anyway since they are literally Like That too

also magnus and alec working out together off the clock, some ogling on both sides and just generally funny competitive shenanigans. especially cuz like magnus is hella fit but alec works in that stupid gym so he knows what he's about. and alec's all smug about it like "i can lift more than you :)" and magnus is like "oh yeah? let's see how you do in the ring" "no" "yes" "no" "why, can you not do it?" "yes. i know my limits" "well that's too bad... because you're going in anyway"

cue alec falling on his face probably but also like goddamn it he's competitive and he's not gonna let magnus have too much of a win so he tries his best rip. anyway then we probably get some hip touching bullshit when magnus tries to explain it to him and magnus is flirting the whole time and alec's laughing and it's sweet

i have half a mind to make up some angsty backstory about how magnus used to be a figure skater too and his partner was (you'll never guess it) camille and then she pulled the rug from under him and he kinda left the competitions altogether for a while. and then he came back as a coreographer (listen, he loves to dance, but creating is one of his favorite parts and he was always involved in coreographing anyway. his old coreographer and him were always having a blast and camille did not like it) and this is kinda his debut as a coreographer at some big shot competition idk and he just feels like he has so much to prove?

lol bonus camille's new coreographer is lorenzo so the hating magnus squad is in thick against him and it's a whole thing you know

OH MEGA ANGSTY camille got him out of the competition because she outed him as trans and he was declassified because something something transphobic bullcrap so he wasn't allowed anymore. i assume this was like right after they won because of course she wouldn't compromise herself, or maybe it was at the beginning/pre-stages of the championship so she had time to find a new partner. yeah that last one and then she won with the coreography that he had helped them create. im saying she did that because he broke up with her finally after years of abuse both in work and out of it so she did that as revenge or to make sure he couldn't have his passion anymore. and it took magnus years to build himself back up as a coreographer this time because transphobia (and racism) in the market but guess what? he is extremely smart and talented and creative so now he is back at the championship and he wants to show the world what they have been missing on

hmmmmm also i implied this is in pairs since magnus and camille used to be one so i think meliorn's pair would probably be izzy and maybe that's why alec's involved? like he was already a personal trainer or whatever which his parents were fine with even though it's not of course as grand as they would've liked (meaning they were total asses about it) but when izzy decided to go into sports/art they lost their shit and didn't want to support her so, you know, alec did and became her trainer. which is just as well because he is the best so like, deal with it. not saying they like kicked her out or anything (esp cuz i imagine part of alec's reasoning is that izzy stood by him when he came out and if they didn't kick him out over being gay they wouldn't kick her out over being a skater but y'know) but they definitely wouldn't support her so they both also feel like they have a lot to prove

lol me: i have half a mind to make this angsty. also me: paragraphs and paragraphs of angsty backstory

anyway they win obviously idk what to tell you they just do cuz we stan talent. camille is second for maximum drama and vengeance, the lightwoods try to get the spotlight once izzy wins and she and alec tell them to fuck off, they advocate for specific rules prohibiting ppl to declassify trans ppl over being trans and that's all i have tbh

sorry it took so long to answer daiudsauihda but i hope that outline is at least interesting for you!

[prometheanglory]

you've said before that you really like associating colors/scenes with your ocs, can i ask what you associate all of them with please ??

AAA yes 👀👀 some characters are more reliant on colors instead of actual scenes rip but i’ll see what i can do 😌

EDIT, 2/12/2022: added pinterest boards bc i think it advocates my point ❤️ and retouched some of these

berkeley gets:

berkeley needs a sense of age to it and a comforting sense of home and warmth, or just! simple camaraderie !! say, your grandmother’s aging home with its wooden panel walls, the many pictures lining the foyer, and her ever-creaky screen doors — maybe it’s your favorite cousin’s home, maybe it’s your old childhood friend’s house. there’s a shoddily parked truck out front on the gravel and you might be dragging in a fair amount of dirt onto her beaten but pretty welcome mat — but it’s home and it’s familiar. as for color, i think of pretty warm ones! yellows, browns, oranges, and maybe an occasional forest green… doesn’t really matter, all you need is a sense of the comfortable familiar.

chase gets:

he needs a distinct feeling to it. a sort of uncomfortable distance to him. pictures of abandoned homes that feel uncomfortably familiar, empty poorly-lit gas stations with the buzz of electricity in the back, the dim green porch light you see on a dark night — but in the same breath, i can see him as also a quiet scene without that strong sense of unease. say, a diner late in the evening or the feeling you get from staring outside at the dark, not particularly searching for anything in that abyss. just existing in the moment with the unindulged world of the ignored.

cordell gets:

cordell is associated in my head with an assortment of light browns and light greens, and some pastels sprinkled in. a scene for cordell is very peaceful. when i think of cordell, i think of a warm spring day and there are birds singing and the grass is quite cool to lay in. there is a mantis eating its prey, gripped tightly in its claws — there are ants, carrying the discarded wing of a dead butterfly — and there is the smell of warm and hearty food wafting out of the kitchen. what a lovely day.

eddie gets:

i think of unsaturated teals and pale oranges — when i think of eddie, i think of something on the less picture-perfect side of things. maybe an alleyway in the afternoon, with its gross puddles and the occasional rat. i think of kids leaning against barbed wire fences, talking about nonsense as they pointedly ignore the dirty bottle caps, the crushed cans of soda, and the bits of plastic that lay about on the hot concrete. i think of uncomfortable humidity and the sting of cold glass bottles, but that’s just life, yeah?

flint gets:

i think of pretty dark and neutral colors for flint — the occasional muted blues and beige seep into my image of him too. a scene of flint is quiet, but distinct. there is life in that silence. say, a tiny office with an aged lamp on a desk and there is the buzz of a tiny fan as it blows in the corner. the papers on the desk flap about, but they’re anchored down by an assortment of pens. someone’s around even if its not all that loud. there is life in this place of quiet, it is not empty.

guts gets:

he needs a sense of detachment. i think of really muted colors when i think of guts — generally along the more dark blue/grey spectrum, but he could definitely delve into black. a scene for guts would probably be in a lounge (mostro? yes.) but it’s only him in there. there’s the sound of water sloshing, gentle waves that cast throw dancing lines across the dark floor but those are to be largely ignored for the occasional clink of glass and the ticking of a clock as the night goes on. it’s not lonely. it’s just pattern.

lola gets:

very bright! very bold! i think of oranges, golds, pinks, greens… anything vibrant when i think of lola. say, the loud and busy streets of a sweltering city, with its constant honking and the chattering of people living their lives — there may be the occasional angry shout of a woman or the rancorous laughter of drunk men. there’s the loud crowing of a rooster and the constant barking of excited dogs. maybe a flashy little store with glittering assortments of plastic. there is constant noise and movement in that bustling concrete jungle that sets the scene of lola guerra!

marian gets:

lots of red. like, everything needs to be res, in easence. he needs a very decadent and near-depraved feeling, very out-of-place, and very overwhelming. say, a lounge room that is absolutely drenched in the color red, from its thick velvet curtains to the red roses to the red couches — the dark chandelier that swings lazily on the ceiling drips red wax, and there’s an assortment of cracked-open pomegranates laying about. some partially eaten, some partially left to rot. there’s the sound of jazz playing on a skipping record very quietly in the background and marian only laughs softly as he rolls over on the couch.

nik gets:

when i think of nik, i think kinda soft but bright! he is an assortment of blues and whites — and i think of a sort of buzzing sense of anticipation? say, standing outside on a very clear spring day. the sunlight is warm and it kisses your skin, but the shadows are unpleasantly cold. there is a breeze that blows against you that makes you shudder, and yet the sunlight is still so comforting once the winds stop. it smells like there is rain coming soon, but are is still no clouds. you might smell a bit of laundry detergent in the air. how weird. how nice.

penn gets:

penn, i think of moreso muted colors. red is a staple, but i also think of greys and browns for him. he strikes me as a scene we can all recognize. sitting at a desk late at night with an assignment still bright on your screen — your back has been hunched for the past 2 hours and you haven’t really gotten anywhere with your work. you feel like you should shower, but you might break whatever semblance of focus you have right now if you step away. you continue to sit there and stew in your inactivity until you realize you’re not working at all and end up throwing in the towel to go clean yourself. nothing feels like it makes sense. you want to go to bed.

ronaldo gets:

i associate a lot of things with ronnie, but i think overall — i think of black when i think of ronnie. sometimes theres orange, sometimes there’s green, but what always stays is black. a scene for ronnie would be something that’s too… disconnected. maybe it’s just the slightest moment you pause when staring down into your washing machine — there’s the smell of soap in your nose and you’re lost in the noise of it all until you snap back to reality and shut the lid. maybe it’s incredibly late and yet you’re still on the floor of your bedroom with the lights on, staring at your phone. there’s nothing really keeping you there and you hate how your face feels but you can’t drudge up the urge to fix it. you haven’t changed out of your day clothes yet and your shoes are still on. unrest in the quiet, a sour taste of disdain and discomfort in the back of your throat.

sarge gets:

lots of white, but i get an overall pearlescent scheme when i think of him. his scenes vary a lot but in general i think of very overtly delicate and beautiful things for him — but also incredibly unsettling images for him. from the gentle sway of white curtains in the wind to the broken head of a porcelain doll or maybe an assorted pile of pearls and teeth sitting patiently on a vanity. a variety of aged churches, of course, are also ever present in my scenes of sarge as a quiet song of leaves and echoes set the mood. he is a scene of gentle splendor, but flavored with a sense of unease.

ulysses gets:

a scene for ulysses... i think of the generic scene of a car going down the highway. there’s city lights that flicker in the edge of your vision and there’s cars that roar as they rush past — there’s no music in the car, you can hear your engine rumbling and without even realizing it, you’re pressing down harder on your gas and your grip is crushing the wheel. you flex your fingers and slowly remove your lead foot from the pedal. you need to go home already. its not really glamorous. you really need to relax.

vinh gets:

she has a very strong feeling of black in my head. not in the sense of intimidation and overt strength, contrasted with heavy neon colors — no, she is black with a gentle lull to it. a profound sense of stillness and melancholy is required. say, a dimly lit room with a single orange lamp sitting in the corner or a dark room on a rainy evening, the blue of the window being your only semblance of light (and if you hold up your hand, you are nothing more than a silhouette). there is no fear, no glory — just quiet existence.

xuehai gets:

he needs a very strong sense of being overwhelming. be it roaring white seas that drown out all sounds, or a swath of white clouds that block out the light of the skies — he needs that feeling of strength and grandness, but in that same course, there is like… geometry, there’s a certain order that never is overpowered or fully conquered despite its size. colors for xuehai are generally limited to white (of course) and greys, but i’ve also found that black and the occasional flecks of bright colors (like reds or oranges) to contrast against that monochrome image definitely helps sell his image. xuehai yknow, he’s a man of many things.

[generous1ty]

Hey! I'm p sure mine was the matchup you needed to be resent, sorry if I'm wrong and just sending it twice tho!

I'm a 5'1 bi girl, scorpio and infp. I've got shoulder length brown hair and am a bit chubby. I have a couple of tattoos and consider tattoos somewhat of a passion. I'm a pretty physically affectionate person, my love language is physical touch. My hobbies are poledancing, aerial arts and cooking. I play bass and music is very important to me. Ny favourite genres are punk and modern rock but I'll enjoy pretty much anything. I also enjoy trying new things so I often take classes to learn new skills. I love going on little adventures and exploring new places. I collect vintage and antique items, my favourite being antique clocks. I like to think I'm a pretty caring person, I like making people happy and sometimes have a bad habit of putting other people's happiness and well-being above my own. I'm also pretty impulsive and I tend to act without thinking. I like people who are more extroverted than me, adventurous and a bit playful. I'm not a very serious person so I like people who also don't take themselves too seriously. Things I tend to dislike in people are selfishness and monotony.

Thank you💕💕

AAA yes, it was you!! thank you so much for resending, and i apologize for the trouble i’ve cause you. thank you again, love. <3

thank you for requesting! now here are your matchups:

i match you with....

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Gundham Tanaka!

you and Gundham are pretty compatible!

not only does he supports your many interests, he may even indulge in them himself! he often watches you practice your hobbies while taking care of the many animals he has in the house. when he’s outside, he thinks about you a lot, resulting in him buying some supplies so you can enjoy your hobbies/interests more.

regarding music, i feel like you really hit his kind of genre! he enjoys listening to you play, and if you write songs, he wants to chip in his own original lyrics, too.

Gundham buys you anything you need to start up a new hobby or interest. he loves watching you develop your skills into something grand-- truly being with you was a wonderful choice, you’re on par with his demonic powers!

Gundham is definitely touch starved, but he won’t admit it much. so the fact that your love language is physical touch and that you care so much is perfect for him! (don’t worry, he eventually warms up to physical affection)

monotony? the Supreme Overlord of Ice doesn’t know the meaning! there is never a dull moment when he is around. Gundham loves to explore new places to tame and breed different animals, and he’s sure to bring you along as well!

Gundham is pretty perceptive. he knows you don’t value yourself much, so he always does his best to help you when you’re feeling down: he wraps you up in blankets and brings you snacks, helps you cook your favorite meals and even lets you pet some of the animals around the house! he’ll even cuddle up with you if you want it! he knows change doesn’t come easy, and is willing to help you prioritize yourself first before others.

Gundham acts as your somewhat-mediator when you decide to do something irrational or impulsive. he might not stop you at first-- because if it’s something you want, then he’ll agree-- however, once things take a turn for the worst, he tries his best to take you out of that situation as fast as possible without you getting hurt.

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i also match you with...

Ibuki Mioda!

although things could get a bit bumpy, i feel that you and Ibuki would be great partners for each other!

Ibuki is always enthusiastic about your hobbies and interests, and supports them to her best ability! if you need any new supplies or are missing a few things, she’s always up for going to the store to get you anything you need. she especially likes collecting antiques with you!

if you’re going to start something new, Ibuki starts it with you! you and her share a lot of memories doing this and that together, and never run out of things to do because of both your spontaneous interests!

must i say any more about your music? it fits Ibuki really well, and you two often jam together! song writing has never been more easier with Ibuki’s outside-of-the-box ideas and crazy lyrics.

Ibuki loves physical affection, and i believe that’s one of her love languages as well! she’s not too good with her words despite being a musician, but she makes up for it by being physically affectionate and giving you gifts.

Ibuki is the definition of spontaneous variety. she’s never always doing one thing, and routine is not really her thing either. she definitely does many, many shows around the world, and you bet you’re coming along! you always get a free ticket to your shows, and she always pumps up the crowd more than usual when you show up in your free time.

she understands wanting to make others happy, she tries to do that with her music all the time! but she knows she needs to put herself before others to make other people the happiest they can be-- she tries her hardest to get you to remember to take care of yourself first. this always results in her doing a bunch of things for you, like cleaning your work areas, buying you whatever you want/need, cuddling with you, cooking for you, etc.

Ibuki is also pretty impulsive-- jumping at whatever is brought before her. you both tend to make some bad decisions, but luckily, they aren’t too heavy. some great memories are made from them as well!

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some runner-ups are...

Makoto Naegi

Hajime Hinata

Kyoko Kirigiri

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i hope this was to your liking! <3

[undertaker1827]

AAA FUCK I JUST REALISED U ALSO WRITE FOR RONALD WISSIANLA COULD U DO IT FOR GRELL AND RONALD U DONT HAVE TO THO 💕💕

Absolutely!! Umm this one kinda ran away with me, we’re well over 2000 words. Enjoy!

Masterlist

-

The sun was shining down beautifully this morning. London’s streets were busy as ever with pedestrians, full of traffic and the city’s general air of bustle. Your hand rested lightly over the zipper of the small bag you were carrying, sunglasses perched over the bridge of your nose. You barely had to think about where your footsteps were taking you; you knew the route to your favourite coffee shop so well.

There was a spring in your walk, excitement practically radiating off you as you neared your destination, looking forward to seeing your boyfriend. He was always so busy with work, you barely ever seemed to meet up face to face. Of course he spent as much time as possible on the phone, texting you when a call or facetime wasn’t acceptable. You even had the feeling that he did it on the clock, when you were certain he wasn’t supposed to, not that you would ever tell that to anyone else. It felt somewhat nice to have a secret only kept between the two of you and it would be a lie to say that the thought that he would break the rules of his workplace for the sake of talking to you didn’t make you go all warm inside.

The bell above the coffee shop gave a happy tune as you opened the door and you waved to one of the girls behind the counter. Throughout the time you had been coming here, you had built up quite the friendship with Meg, who had memorised your order after knowing you only a week. Your eyes scanned the various tables, both those with a higher stance surrounded by stools and the shorter ones with soft leather armchairs dotted in between them. Your eyes lit up when they met a sparkling green gaze boxed behind black framed glasses. Your boyfriend put on a charming grin, the one he knew would make you melt, and gave you a two-fingered salute.

As soon as you made your way over to the table he had picked out - your usual one - he jumped up to press a kiss to your lips, a hand curling around your lower back and the other reaching up to card back through your hair. You couldn’t help but laugh at the PDA, Ron was nothing if not proud of showing physical attention. You didn’t mind all that much, especially not in this specific place. It was almost like a second home at this point.

“Got your favourite,” Ron grinned, throwing a casual thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of a steaming mug full of what was, in fact, your favourite. You returned the broad smile, sitting down in the chair next to his and cradling the mug close to you. Your other hand reached over and intertwined with his, resting on the arm of his chair. You chatted away for well over an hour, intermittently sipping away at your drinks and watching the city go by through one of the large windows on the shop front. Meg had taken a break around 20 minutes ago and quickly rushed past your table, giving each of you a quick hello.

You got around an hour and a half overall, which was most certainly a rare treat, but it ended all too soon. It was with a frown and disappointed sigh that Ron turned to face you, fingers still laced together. You knew just from the look on his face what he was going to say.

“M’ sorry, sweetheart, duty calls,” he murmured, undeniable sadness flitting through his eyes. You gave a sad smile of your own nodding quietly. It quickly widened into something happier though, the feelings of the morning’s walk coming back to you.

“I know. It’s alright though! I mean we had all morning together, that hasn’t happened in ages!” He shook his head slightly, eyes sparkling once again.

“Always so optimistic, you know that?” You thought for a moment, deciding there was only one appropriate response for his words.

“Love you, Ron.” He leaned his head to the side, teeth flashing in a grin as he ran his fingertips through his wild locks.

“You know I love it when you call me that.” You did. That was the name you called him by most often. He reached over to pull you in, leaving a kiss on your lips then moving to hover his lips above your ear, his voice a mere whisper as your heart beat frantically in your chest.

“Love you, too.”

It turned out to only be a few hours later when you saw him again. You had spent a decidedly relaxing day wandering around the city, every so often taking a picture or inspecting something in a shop window. You had just made it into a secluded street, one you picked up your pace to get through as you realised there were no pedestrians. You were about halfway down when a flash of metallic red in an alley to your left caught your eye, followed by someone taking a sharp breath and a clipped heel landing on the pavement. The shoe was a pristine white Oxford, and paired with the crisp black three-piece, you were fairly certain you knew who it was. Your steps increased in speed again, this time with excitement. It was when you saw his mop of two-tone hair that you allowed yourself to break into a run.

“Ron!” You called out, smile settling over your lips. You were too happy to consider why he would even be in this area of London. Whilst you knew his job was important, he had never exactly given you the specifics. When he turned to face you fully, it was with his usual flirty grin and an extended hand, covered entirely in a black glove. However, the closer you got to him, the slower you moved. A feeling of dread spread throughout your body as you took in his beautiful face, now marred with a clean flick of crimson. Your eyes then travelled to whatever he had hoisted over his shoulders, casually and like it weighed nothing. You could hardly believe what your eyes were telling you, but it looked like a lawn mower. There was a sickening dripping sound emanating from the blades and you swallowed hard. You stopped walking entirely when you caught sight of a black boot lying on the ground, just visible from the alleyway it was protruding from. Ron’s face had fallen now too, but as he followed your eyeline, every feature drained to deathly pale. His eyes widened into shock and he looked as if the weight of the world had just been dropped onto his shoulders.

“I - oh, no I - Y/N…” he whispered in strangled voice. He looked like he felt sick. You certainly did.

“What’s… what’s that?” You asked, horror permeating every nerve as you forced yourself to walk closer. “Who’s - that?” He seemed as shocked as you were.

“Y/N I never told you … how could I not have though to tell you?” You were within arms’ reach of him now, close enough to realise that the person lying on the ground, hunched with a knife still protruding from her abdomen, was none other than Meg. Your hand flew to your mouth as your eyes began to mist over. Helplessly, Ron extended a hand to attempt to touch you, to do something, anything. You stepped back immediately, palm flat in a useless attempt to defend yourself.

“What the hell have you done?” Your voice wavered, but it was stronger than you were expecting. “You-you killed her?!” Rationality and caution were thrown through the window as an indescribable rage overtook you. Before you knew it, you were throwing yourself at the man before you with all the strength you had, hands fisted so tightly you were certain your own nails were drawing blood. Your punches landed uncontrollably on his face and chest; you barely even heard the clatter of his weapon being discarded.

Ron caught your wrists easily to end your attack. Your logical mind knew he would - he was considerably stronger than you. That didn’t stop you from struggling. He was calling your name, trying to bring your attention back to him but all you could see was red. That was until you glanced past his shoulder to see the body of your friend. When the gravity of the situation hit you, all fight fled from your being, leaving your muscles weakened and the breath leaving your lungs in heaving pants.

“You killed her,” you muttered, spite rising in your voice as Ron held your arms out to the side. It occurred to you that he was being careful not to hurt you, but that wasn’t much consolation.

“Y/N, please listen to me. I did not kill your friend, I swear.” You glared up at him from your slightly shorter stance, upper lip starting to curl into a sneer in spite of yourself.

“Really? Because it damn well doesn’t look that way,” you growled. Sarcasm and anger tended to be your defence mechanisms to cover up fear and pain, so you had well and truly fallen back on them now.

“Can I explain? Please?” You worried at your lower lip before taking the plunge and nodding. “This’ll be confusing and difficult to believe,” he started, “but I’m a grim reaper. I’m in the UK branch of an international organisation that works to collect the souls of the deceased. We don’t kill them ourselves, though it’s easy to see why you would think that, we just assess and collect their souls.” Your eyes were starting to cloud over again as you mulled his words, a slight tremble setting up in your hands.

“So you’re saying you didn’t kill her … someone else did?” His expression turned sympathetic as he nodded.

“I’m so sorry.” You blinked and swallowed, gritting your teeth and trying to clear your mind. All you could feel now was grief.

“Hey, hey…” Ron murmured, grip loosening entirely as his hands travelled from your wrists, up your arms until they came to rest lightly on your shoulders. He knew you believed him when you didn’t pull away, but his eyes were still full of sadness for you and disbelief that telling you what he was had entirely slipped his mind. “C’mere.”

You practically fell into his arms, face buried into his neck as a sob broke from your throat. Ron’s arms encased you and held you tightly to his chest, his nose buried into your hair as he whispered sweet nothings to you, attempting to help you find comfort.

You had no idea how long you both stood like that, no concept of the passing of time, but eventually your tears dried up and your legs ached but you still didn’t want to move, because as soon as you did, Ron would give you the same look as this morning and say he would have to go back to work, however much it hurt you both. Then, as if he had heard your thoughts, he asked what you wanted to do. You answered without moving back to look at him.

“I want to go home,” you confessed, “but I don’t want to be alone.” He nodded understandingly.

“Your place or mine?” It took you a while to reply, shocked as you were that he had implied he would stay. Your arms tightened around him.

“Yours would be good…” you whispered. You found the smell and homeliness of his apartment comforting, not to mention that he didn’t have an intricate glass bowl Meg bought for him in the hallway as you entered his home.

He nodded again. You closed your eyes for a moment, only to open them and think you were hallucinating. You thought you were standing in his flat.

“It’s teleportation, love, that’s all.” You were too tired to question it. Ron dropped the weapon down and left it to one side. He swiped at the blood on his cheek then discarded his gloves over its handle, turning around just as quickly to face you again. He stepped closer, fingertips brushing your elbow.

“What can I do?” He murmured, trying to catch your gaze. When you did look up, you found yourself unable to look away again.

“Please just hold me.”

He leaned down immediately to press you against him, bringing you with him as he moved towards the sofa against the back wall. He turned towards you as soon as he sat down, an arm around your waist and the other behind your shoulders, holding you tightly to him. You crossed a leg over his, arms curling behind his back and closing your eyes, pressing your face into the join between Ron’s neck and shoulder. His hands traced circles over your sides and he let out a small breath, pressing gentle kisses into your hair.

You would sit together for hours like that, no need for speaking as you were both perfectly comfortable in each others’ company.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

“You need to be careful” and “why didn’t you just call me” with detective cutie pants :)

Oh, how I wish calling Detective Cutie Pants was an option if I were in need of rescue. Fluffy fluff for you, love 💕

* * * * *

Baxter was right.

You hated it when he was right—which was, unfortunately, most of the time.

As you sat in your car waiting for AAA to save you by extracting you from the dastardly snowbank you found yourself in, you had time to reflect on what your husband had reminded you of before you left the house.

“It’s supposed to get icy this afternoon. You need to be careful if you go out, but I really think you should stay home. Christmas shopping can wait.”

“It’s December 23rd. I don’t think it can wait.”

“And who waited until the last minute to finish their shopping this year?”

“You can wipe that smug look right off your face, officer.”

Baxter couldn’t stop grinning even after he tried to act wounded that you demoted him.

“Officer? What a blow to my ego, sweetheart,” he said as he clasped his hands to his chest with a dramatic flourish.

“Humph,” you muttered, ignoring his behavior, mad at yourself for procrastinating and mad at your husband for teasing you about it.

“I gotta go—can I have a kiss?”

“No,” you said crossing your arms and scowling.

“Alright, but if I die, you’re going to feel awfully bad,” he said in a sing-song voice that did not at all match the seriousness of the words that came out of his mouth.

You sighed, and walked over to Baxter, adjusting his coat since he missed the first button, which did make you half-smile. You swore he’d leave the house with his pants on backwards if you didn’t give him a once over in the morning, especially when he was working on a case. His mind was always puzzling something out and getting dressed was much more inconsequential than solving a crime.

“Hey—I love you, Y/N.”

Your smile extended into a full grin at the heartfelt way he told you he loved you; there was never any doubt in your mind that Baxter believed you hung the moon.

Your eyes locked onto his for a breath before you leaned into him and kissed him, really kissed him. His hands dipped down to grasp your ass and pull you tighter into his body as your tongue twined with his. You could feel yourself flush, and you knew you had to end the kiss or he wouldn’t make it to work on time.

“I love you, too,” you said as you pulled your lips away from his.

He shook his head and shook off the desire that had started to take hold of his body, clearing his mind.

“You may be a grumpy little thing, but damn, babe. You know how to kiss a guy so he comes back to you.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“As if there is ever any doubt about who your cute ass belongs to.”

Baxter laughed and turned to leave, reminding you once more to be careful if you did end up going shopping.

Of course, as soon as he left, you did, too. It was never your intention to stay at home and shopping had gone well—until the ice started falling and the already slushy roads refroze. And if it weren’t for the knucklehead in front of you who kept slamming on his breaks, you would’ve made it back to the house unscathed.

The damage to your car was minimal, perfectly drivable, but AAA insisted on a tow home. Better they took you home than risked an insurance claim if they let you drive and the damage got worse.

You watched the clock on the dash of the tow truck nervously. If Baxter was ten minutes early getting home, you would be caught. But if he were ten minutes late, you’d have just enough time to park in the garage, effectively hiding the damaged passenger side bumper from Baxter’s line of view when he pulled his SUV into the garage.

But fuckall if you were that lucky because just as the tow truck turned into the drive, your husband pulled in right behind you.

“Are you in need of a girlfriend or a wife for the holidays?” you joked to the driver.

He chuckled, “I told my wife the same thing I bet your husband told you—stay home today.”

“Men,” you said with a light laugh that was immediately cut off by Baxter damn near ripping the door of the tow truck off its hinges.

“Bax—”

“Baby are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened? Why didn’t you just call me?”

You had it set in your mind to continue this whole event with your grumpy attitude, but the worry that was etched into the lines around Baxter’s mouth and eyes made you swallow your pride.

“I’m fine, Bax. Just a little ding in the front fender because I had to avoid someone who has never seen winter before. You sure you don’t want to move back to LA?”

Baxter didn’t answer you; he just pulled you into a tight hug and kissed your temple.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered into your hair before moving to help the tow truck driver unload your car.

Once your car was parked and you and Baxter were inside shaking the droplets of water and ice off your coats and out of your hair, he pulled you over to the sofa and made you sit down. He insisted on getting you some hot tea, your protests falling on deaf ears.

You gave up fighting him and pulled the warm blanket from its spot on the back of the couch and snuggled in, listening as your sweet husband brought the kettle to a boil.

He returned soon and handed you the steaming mug before carefully settling in next to you. He put his arm around your shoulder and you leaned into him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

“Doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re okay. I’ve seen so much shit, Y/N. Flashing lights in my own driveway send me into a panic. Nothing can ever happen to you—okay?”

“Okay,” you said, turning your nose into his neck and inhaling the masculine scent of his aftershave, thinking about just how lucky you were, not only to have avoided a major accident, but to have fallen in love with the best man in the world.  

[magically-with-magic]

[Translation] AAA - Egao no Loop

Probably doing Believe Own Way next, when I have the time, since it was requested a while ago. But I want to try and stay on top of their current releases if I can. @aaa-acchan48, I hope you like it!

*

Everyday, my alarm clock goes off And I fumble to turn it off And sometimes I wonder, Is there anything out there, beyond this?

On days like that, without ever looking down, I'll go look for it, the overflowing kindness From that loop of smiles

One smiling face calls another Filling this world up to the brim It won't ever be extinguished And because it makes you shine It never fails to make me happy

I won't just stare at the ground Because happiness won't just drop there From Monday, where my gait is slow, To Friday, where I'm dizzy with glee, Today's my first step for you And each passing day sows those seeds

When I finally notice, I realize It blooms in a familiar place A flower that may be unknown, but One that makes me instinctively happy

"Thank you," and when I say those words Then surely, it will begin from you That loop of smiles

No matter how small it may be, It's a lovely thing each time I find it If I'm honestly delightly, it's because I can meet that smile again and again I'll open the door, and take flight immediately

Dreams, hope, the future... loneliness All the things that aren't in front of me Goodbye, thank you We parted so we could meet again, today I held your hand So the scars and tears can become a smile again tomorrow The kindness I received from you Was the shape of the love that carried me forward

So if something isn't enough for you now Or if you're worried, just try to believe In that loop of smiles

One smiling face calls another Filling this world up to the brim It won't ever be extinguished And because it makes you shine It never fails to make me happy

[davidmann95]

Best comics of 2018?

A handful of disqualifications up front: since they’re just beginning, I’m not counting Electric Warriors, Martian Manhunter, The Green Lantern (though Evil Star explaining his name in #2 might be my favorite moment in comics this year), Ironheart, DIE, Shazam!, Killmonger, The Batman Who Laughs, or Miles Morales: Spider-Man, all of which almost certainly would have ended up somewhere in here with some more time. Additionally, I switched to a new online pull list system in March, so I don’t have a list of what I got before then - if I’m forgetting about something great that came out early this year, there’s a good chance that would be why.

Honorary Mentions: While there were plenty of comics I was happy to keep up with, a number stood out as exemplary examples of straight-take relatively traditional capeshit: Scott Snyder, James Tynion IV and companies’ Justice League, Steve Orlando’s Justice League of America (which would probably go among the best of the best if the art was a bit more consistent or the lineup more to my personal tastes), Brian Bendis and Nick Derington’s Batman work in the Walmart 100-Page Giants, Donny Cates’ Thanos and Doctor Strange work (the latter might not have quite made it, but that last issue with Irving and Zdarsky was gangbusters), Steve Orlando’s brief Wonder Woman run with Laura Braga, ACO, and Raul Allen, Tim Seeley’s Green Lanterns, Nnedi Okorafor and Leonardo Romero’s Shuri, Robert Vendetti and Bryan Hitch’s Hawkman, Saladin Ahmed, Javier Rodriguez, Rod Reis, Dario Brizuela, and Joe Quinones’s Exiles, Captain America by both the Mark Waid/Chris Samnee team and the current Ta-Nehisi Coates/Lenil Francis Yu lineup, Dan Slott and Valerio Schiti’s Tony Stark: Iron Man when it’s committed solely to being a superhero comic and not Dan Slott trying to be Contemporary, Brian Bendis, Patrick Gleason, Yanick Paquette, and Ryan Sook’s Action Comics, and Kelly Thompson and Stefano Caselli’s West Coast Avengers. 

On the slightly different side of things, Steve Orlando and Giovanni Timpano showed how you do an intercompany crossover right with The Shadow/Batman, Max Bemis’s Moon Knight while not living up to all it could have been - and likely to age poorly - had moments of truly bizarre grace, Saga was Saga even if I’ve lost the plot, Ahmed and Christian Ward’s Black Bolt concluded as well as we all might have hoped, Warren Ellis and Jon Davis-Hunt’s The Wild Storm continued to build up steam in its own fascinating style, Doomsday Clock remains utterly captivating in spite of itself, and Tom Peyer and Jamal Igle’s The Wrong Earth is making the most of a deceptively tough premise. On the one-off end, Chip Zdarsky and Declan Shalvey’s Marvel Two-In-One Annual is an essentially perfect off-kilter Doom/Richards story, Action Comics #1000 had no chance of living up to all it needed to be but was largely a great set of Superman stories regardless, and while the remainder of the miniseries has thus far been fine, Tim Seeley and Carlos Villa’s first issue of Shatterstar was a strange, special delight.

My Favorite Comics of 2018

Rock Candy Mountain: Technically Jackson - the rail-rider who can beat Any One Man in a fistfight - reached the end of his journey for hobo heaven this year, and flat-out, every Kyle Starks comic is a perfect one. This is a book where the first issue has a dude beating ass with a beautiful savagery that leaves an awestruck onlooker declaring “He’s got punch diarrhea and their faces are the toilet bowl”, and by the end it built up to one of the most moving climaxes of the year. It’s a comic about fallen men finding redemption in friendship and in dreams, and also there’s a cage fighter who calls himself Hundred Cats because it would be really hard to fight a hundred cats.

Dark Knights: Metal: This is the final, perfected form of traditional Event Comic Bullshit. Everything good about Snyder, Capullo, Glapion, and Plascencia’s Batman post-Court Of Owls is retooled and reenergized to fit the scale of a Crisis event, everything that I would have considered to be a weakness regarding their partnership either burned away or placed in a context where it becomes a strength. This is the Morrison approach to the DCU rightfully ascendant and presented in a form even more fit for mass consumption, and manages to live up to being the first classic-style, large-scale DC event comic in almost a decade - Marvel may blow its own load every six months until it’s simply got nothing to offer anymore, but DC waited until they really and truly had something, and that something was bloodsoaked magic.

Peter Parker: The Spectacular Spider-Man (by Chip Zdarsky and assorted artists): I actually wavered a bit on whether this belonged in the best of the best as a whole; most of the issues this year were definitely very good (regarding Zdarsky’s run specifically, I haven’t checked out the Spider-Geddon tie-in stuff), but more on the honorary mention end of the scale. Ultimately however, the Amazing Fantasy arc and #310 are Spider-Man comics I’m going to be coming back to for years to come - the latter is going to end up in every ‘Best Spider-Man Stories Ever’ softcover from now until the end of time - and they tipped the scales.

Batman: Very much in the same boat as Spidey above; a lot of this year didn’t do it for me in the same way as this run has in the past, but The Best Man is the best thing anyone’s done with Joker since Morrison, the ‘wedding issue’ itself worked really well for me, Cold Days made a premise that’s often stymied creators work as well as people have always wanted it to, and the Dick team-up issue was a perfect little summation of a relationship, nevermind how much this year succeeded in getting me hyped up for things to come.

The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl: This is one of those comics where it’s so consistently good in such a specific, quiet way that people stop talking about it, but for real, this has never not in the top five or six things Marvel is publishing at any given time for as long as it’s been around. Erica Henderson leaving right before hitting the Kraven story that had been building literally since its first issue 3 years earlier could have been disastrous, but North and new artist Derek Charm manage to hit their own rhythm and continue delivering one of the funniest, cleverest, most sincere superbooks on the stands every month.

Mister Miracle: Yeah, it really was that good.

The Immortal Hulk: So is this, and if I have to name a single best comic of the year, this has probably gotta be it. Al Ewing’s been Marvel’s best creator for a long, long time, and putting him and Joe Bennett (who holy moley, I don’t think anyone would have guessed had this in him) on a tentpole character Ewing’s got genuine reverence for worked out even better than a fanboy like me might have expected. It’s sublime horror, it’s perfect Marvel comics continuity bullshit, and if the superhero is at heart a morality fable, this is very much a soul-searing apex of the genre as it speaks of how we can all go wrong.

Eternity Girl: …or maybe this is the best? It’s probably gotta be this, Hulk, or Miracle. Mister Miracle’s where the comparison really becomes clear, as they’re both books way out on the fringes of the DCU dealing with a character grappling with depression amidst the mundanity of their cyclical existence. However, as perfectly constructed and rawly human as Mister Miracle is, this hits a lot more of my own buttons and expresses its own brand of more surreal emotional authenticity, and rather than the expected and beautiful next step of a pair of already-acclaimed creators with an established partnership, this was a shock coming out party for Visaggio and Liew, who do things stylistically just as odd to see in a DC Comic as anything King and Gerads came up with. It seemed to sail under the radar for readers but also seems to be racking up awards, and I hope this’ll attain the reputation it deserves in years to come.

Ice Cream Man: Likely the respectable fourth place to the three above, while I can’t quite sing its praises in quite the same way when it’s playing so hard-to-get that I can’t quite put a pin in what it’s ultimately about, oh my GOD this is as good as gut-punch horror gets. Not simply grody shock-value stuff, but pit-of-your-stomach-everything-in-the-world-hates-you-and-you-were-wrong-to-ever-believe-in-love shit that’ll rattle your bones and fuck you up good. Not usually a horror guy myself, but this is an essentially perfect comic.

The Man Of Steel: Screw all y’all, this kicked ass and after how hard the Rebirth books blew it - Jon and the new status quo were both excellent, Tomasi had good bits here and there alongside some quality fill-in teams, but those books were still aaaaaaaaaaassssss - this is exactly the fresh start Superman’s needed for years. Granted the Fabok interstitials had some wonky pacing, but this was on-point and insightful for Superman as a character, exciting as hell, and has thus far led to nothing but more good comics as far as I’m concerned.

Milk Wars: Did the various tie-ins live up to the bookends? Nah, though the Shade/Wonder Woman story was pretty good. But those bookends? Friends, those books were AAA+ sup-per-he-ro-bull-SHIT, and while I was initially let down because it seemed as though it would have Superman in a major role and then didn’t, this is even more of an apotheosis of the Morrison approach to the genre than Metal. ACO is ACO, Eaglesham slaughtered it, and Orlando and Way should be as joined at the hip as cowriters as Abbnett and Lanning used to be. This is a gold standard for strange, edgy, colorful, wondrous, fucked-up superhero comics, and there should be a million more like it every day.

Justice League (by Christopher Priest and assorted artists, primarily Pete Woods): On the exact opposite end of the scale, while I don’t think I can say I enjoyed this book as much as the current Snyder-helmed gonzo cosmic adventures, I absolutely feel this was the better of the two. More importantly, this run is the successful version of what just about every other Justice League comic of the past 15 years has been trying and failing to be as the post-Authority, post-Ultimates, post-Civil War take on the concept. It’s as smart and atmospheric and bold as a book like Justice League ever CAN be, building its exploration of the conceptual stress points of the team around one and two-part adventures and clever character dynamics, illustrating an interesting new take on how to handle the main team book with the power players: taking their ability to handle physical threats as a relative given, a structural conceit acting as a delivery mechanism for the politics and people in play. It hardly breaks new ground in terms of redefining the superhero concept, but it’s as far as they’ve gone with the marquis characters without ending in disaster, and it’s an approach I’d love to see more often applied to this scale.

Superman: Walmart 100 Page Giant (by Tom King and Andy Kubert): Of all the places for King to do a regular Superman comic, huh? Still, we’d already seen what he’d done in that Batman two-parter and Action #1000, so I’m more than willing to take what we can get (even if most are going to have to wait for this to come out in trade). There have been four installments so far: the first is the sort of stage-setting that’s common to this type of long-form arc but with a distinctly different atmosphere than how this is typically done with the character, evoking a sort of Miller-tinged Golden Age flavor connecting Superman back down to Earth before throwing him into the stars. The third is a great Fuck Yeah Superman Doin’ Superman Shit throwdown that gives Kubert a chance to shine. The fourth and most recent is haunting, inspired, moving, and tight as a drum. And the second begins as the worst-case scenario of Tom King doing a Superman comic, and ends as likely my favorite Superman story of the last 5 years. If it continues in its current direction, Superman: Up In The Sky is almost certainly going to be a perennial people are going to rank among the best Superman stories of all time for decades to come, and everything I’d want out of this team tackling my favorite character.

Detective Comics (by James Tynion IV and assorted artists): I’m honestly surprised at myself for putting this here, but I just have to hand it to this run - which had to go quite a ways to win me over, between its opening gambit with Batwoman’s status quo and centering the whole thing around my least-favorite Robin (even if it won me over to him over time) - as basically being the platonic form of Dang Good Superhero Comics. Not boundary-pushing, not the sort of thing you’ll remember in 20 years, but just really fun, exciting, good-looking, slick, character-driven adventures building on themselves into the logical culmination of 21st century popular Batman stories. This is Batman 101, but in a good way, and I honestly think that on reflection it’s gonna hold together better as a Batman run than its immediate predecessor in Snyder/Capullo.

You Are Deadpool: This is the smartest, funniest, most inventive big two comic of the year and even if you’re so tired of Deadpool that your skull bones are threatening to suddenly contract and spear your brain in an attempt at saving your weary soul from the prospect of seeing any more of him, you should get this.

Superman (by Brian Bendis and Ivan Reis): I noted Action Comics among the honorable mentions, as while it’s a dang good comic that I enjoy a great deal - and Ryan Sook may well have established himself as my ideal modern Superman artist - it’s very much the best possible version of *exactly* what you’d expect from Brian Bendis doing Superman. This, on the other hand, feels like Bendis stretching himself to do something truly different in a way he hasn’t in years, and the results are stunning. I won’t pretend Rogol Zaar has amounted to much of anything as of yet, but Bendis has acclimated to the realm of Cosmic Superman Punch-Ups in a way no one could have reasonably seen coming; he’s managed to sidestep his usual issues by anchoring each issue in a crazy setpiece and a single perfect Superman character moment, and Reis is doing work here than can unquestionably stand alongside his Sinestro Corps War heyday. Whether it’s #1 having Superman fight an astro-goilla in the middle of a questioning on his responsibilities to humanity, #4 going full Shonen in the best possible way with probably my favorite fight scene of the year, or #6′s storybook mythmaking building to the best, cruelest needle in the balloon possible, or the consistent delightful fucking with Adam Strange, every issue here has something I didn’t know I badly wanted to see, and damn if that isn’t exactly what I want in my Superman stuff.

Assorted one-offs: Along with the major arcs and runs, we’ve got stuff like the Thanos Annual and DC Nuclear Winter Special, as good as anthologies of this kind get. T-shirt Superman got one last ride under Morrison in the Sideways Annual, fighting his way out from under the wreckage of a weird DiDio book to get exactly the sendoff he deserved. The Injustice 2 Annual, of all things, was a perfect piece of bittersweet character work. Invincible #144 satisfyingly closed out The Best Superhero Comic In The Universe by essentially also doing Invincible #145-500 or so, putting this often tumultuous title to bed with the dignity it had earned. And finally, Slott and Marcos Martin’s The Amazing Spider-Man #801 was a perfect minor mediation not even on the title character so much as the basic moral appeal of the genre as a whole.

[booabug]

A Simple Date, Ch. 1: Affection Sandwich

Rated G, Adrinette, pure fluff and dorkiness, ~1200 words. Just a little date Adrien put together after missing Marinette's birthday to make it up to her. You know. Nothing too extravagant. [AO3]

Happy belated birthday, @ourthelonelygirl18​! The day late thing actually is a coincidence, but it’s pretty funny how that worked out, right? Haha ha.

Adrien took a deep breath as he stared at the bakery’s residential doors and shook himself loose, willing himself to relax. He raised his phone in his hand, text (‘I’m outside’) already typed, just waiting to be sent.

He dropped his hand again and cricked his neck side to side. “Okay,” he breathed, “Okay. It’s no big deal. She’s your girlfriend. It’s just another date. It just happens to be the day after her birthday, which you didn’t celebrate with everyone, because you were ‘too busy,’ and you know how bad that feels, and it’s a pretty bad feeling, but no big deal! You’re going to make it up to her! No pressure at all. You can do this.”

He inhaled deeply.

“It is kind of a big deal, though,” he mumbled, “If I’m being honest with myse-”

His phone screen lit up. Adrien’s head whipped down. Plagg, basking traitorously in the light of his sent text, grinned up at him.

“Plagg!”

The little trickster just glanced back at the phone after it buzzed, then phased his way inside his shirt. “She’ll be be down soon~”

Adrien made a vague, offended noise.

He would scruff his kwami back out and glare at him properly, but the clock was ticking. He had to nail his greeting to her. Charming smile, something simple, like, ‘Good evening,’ but not too simple. Compliment! Compliment her too, ‘You look great,’ no, too stiff, maybe a little flirty, ‘Looking great, as always.’

Yes. He had this.

He just had to figure out what to do with himself.

Adrien leaned with one arm arm against the wall. Hmm, no. He crossed his arms and leaned on his shoulder. Too much? He placed both hands on his hips. No. Now he just looked like some dad indignant over someone calling his puns bad. He-

The door opened.

He bolted straight up, arms against his sides. “Hi,” he squeaked, staring at some unseen point straight ahead, several kilometers away.

For an eternity of a second, it was silent—until Marinette giggled and all the tension melted from his shoulders, and all was right in the world, and he looked down at his beautiful girlfriend (her! his! girlfriend!) and her lovely light blouse and nice skirt, fluttering in the summer breeze.

Adrien wheezed.

Marinette drew his attention back up to her charming smile when she said, “Good evening, Adrien! You look great. I mean, you always do. Just, you know... especially... great,” she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

She was too cute.

He was very weak.

Sighing, he reeled to lean against the wall on his forearms and rested his head against them to shield his eyes from her, frankly, criminally adorable self. It helped with the whole ‘knees in danger of giving out’ thing too.

“Oh honey,” she said, “No.”

“You’re too radiant,” he whined.

“Oh my god,” she said, sounding pained, “It’s not fair. You always do this, and I have to act like I don’t want to keel over from how handsome you are so we’re at least semi-functional.”

He turned his head just enough to look at her. “Do I look okay?”

“Adrien,” she said flatly, “If we weren’t in a heat wave right now, I’d make you fully button up that shirt. I’m still debating it for my own comfort and safety.”

He smirked and cocked his head at her. “Heh. You think I’m hot.”

Marinette made a vague, high-pitched noise and shrugged. “Well, yeah! Thought that was clear by now.”

“Oh?” Adrien turned fully to her, one hand on his hip (but not in a dad way) and tapped his chin with the other. “No, actually, it’s not clear. Tell me, just how ho-aaa-hohhh, hey!” he grinned wide. He had heard giggling from down the hall. “Monsieur Dupain, Madame Cheng, how are you this evening?”

Marinette turned to glare so quickly, Adrien glanced over to look for signs of whiplash.

“Evening, Adrien!” Tom greeted as Sabine smiled at him fondly, unaffected by Marinette’s fuming. “Big plans tonight?”

“Oh, nothing too extravagant,” Adrien said and fiddled at the back of his collar. “Just dinner at a pretty nice restaurant, a walk since the weather’s so nice... maybe we’ll catch André and get some ice cream. If not, we could always...”

Between him dreaming up romantic plans and her parents encouraging him, Marinette managed to point out, “Um. That ‘pretty nice’ restaurant has three Michelin stars and five Gault Millau toques.”

“Oh!” her parents exclaimed.

“Yeah,” she looked at him. “I do appreciate it, but it is a little extravagant.”

“Well,” Adrien smiled his gentle smile and gave her that soft, heart stopping look in his eyes only he could give her. He shrugged and said, “You deserve it.”

And now she was staring at her shoes.

“Awww,” her parents cooed. Sabine said, “You’re right, of course, our dear works so hard. I worry sometimes, she’s always putting everyone else first. We do what we can, but...”

Once she had trailed off, Adrien continued for her, “It never feels like enough?”

Marinette buried her face in her hands.

“Exactly!” Sabine put her hands over her heart. “You’re such a nice boy. Tom and I feel so lucky Marinette has someone like you.”

“Oh, not at all! I’m so lucky to be with her,” he said. She kept her now unseasonably warm face in her hands, shielding herself from the soft look she could feel him doing. “I’m glad she has such loving parents! I wish I could be there for her every minute of the day, but... there are things like yesterday...” he said in the most heart breaking voice Marinette had ever heard.

“We feel exactly the same way...” her papa said, his tone inflicting the same critical damage to her heart. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, son. I understand you can’t help but feel bad, but for us, knowing she has you-”

“Well!” Marinette yelped. “We better get going, we don’t want to be late for our reservation, you know, it’d be super rude, and it would take forever for them to seat us if we missed it, and we’re walking, so we need to leave now.”

“We have plenty of ti-”

“Would you look at that! Looks like it’s going to rain! The longer we stall, the more we risk getting caught in it, so let’s go!” she said, voice panicked as she fumbled blindly at the umbrella rack, marched past Adrien, grabbed the back of his belt, and kept walking.

“Good night!” Adrien called out, perfectly keeping his balance as he was dragged backwards. “Sorry we couldn’t talk longer!”

“Oh, it’s fine, dear!” Sabine called from the house, “We’re used to it by now!”

Which was good for them, Marinette thought, but she was sure she’d never get used to how overwhelming it was to be between both her doting boyfriend and her doting parents.

“Darling?” Adrien’s voice came from behind her.

For once, she was happy about the teasing tone in his voice. “Yes?”

“Your excuses could use some work. There are like, three clouds in the sky.”

[tebbydear-movedblogs]

For the flower asks, borage and aster? Love u lots xxxx

Borage: Give a random fact about your childhoodooo uh. my piano teacher actually did that thing where she made me put a pencil in between my fingers so my hand would curve right ddgh

Aster: What’s one of your favorite quotes?gosh this is so hard aaa. 

No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away, until the clock wound up winds down, until the wine she made has finished its ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested. - Terry Pratchett

or,, i cant explain why, and i dont know the exact quote, but theres a scene in a catherynne m valente book that goes something like

Death: You’re a lot more interesting than most of the knights that come through here. they always want me to play chess with themSeptember: I’ve only ever played chess with my mother. I don’t think it would feel right, playing it with you.Death: I cheat, anyway. When their backs are turned, I move the pieces.

or. anything from Night In The Woods

(love u too bb)

Here’s the ask list!