#currently hes napping in a cardboard box

[the-chattering-tower]

The list of Unwise Things probably includes releasing two skins like a week apart but I'm not wise, I just wanted this to exist

Behold: Bundra, The Sequel. This time with lop ears and colours based off of my own rabbit, Puszpáng (who turned 6 less than a week ago, and I got a dragon about it, and I wanted that dragon to have a skin, and now we are here)

Coming to a skin shop near you whenever it gets through the queue in one piece!

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter three: the truce

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!SHIElD!reader

masterlist

summary: being a SHIELD agent, you have a knack for analysing people, particularly when it comes to attraction. you have everyone figured out, sorted away into the boxes you've created. But there's one man you can never seem to figure out, the very bane of your existence -- Bucky Barnes. On the field, he is a saint, helping you dodge bullets and taking knife wounds in your name. Around the building? Public menace number one, always poised to insult or to spar with you.

After being sent on a 6-month-long torture-cum-vacation with the very man, could all this change? Could you finally figure out what has been bubbling beneath the surface for years between the two of you, the juggernaut that you know you cannot stop?

warnings:  language, mention of being fostered and it being terrible, more hints to reader’s past, dead mother, mentions of sex and reader being dom

word count: 2.7k

taglist: @cjand10 @mcira @calwitch

PREVIOUS PART

A/N: I enjoyed writing this sm! as always, please let me know what you think, all comments and reblogs and likes are heavily appreciated!! love u all <3

You didn’t expect moving to be so much work, and…so much fucking tape. Ever since you escaped the hellhole of your foster house, you’ve been living in the Tower, only ever having to unpack a duffel and a suitcase full of clothes and shoes and makeup. 

The good news that comes from being so tired is that you barely have the energy to argue with Bucky, often falling asleep on the couch halfway through dinner. The TV will continue to blare in the background, and Bucky will continue to chew silently. He lets you take the naps, gently waking you up once he’s done, and handing back your freshly heated dinner plate right back at you, just so you never eat a cold meal. In all honesty, it’s been wonderful.

Somehow, he’s nice to you, now. The two of you haven’t officially called a truce, but it goes unspoken, you suppose. You find yourself helping him more than usual, and certainly have stopped insulting him. You don’t know why. Why he’s being kind, and smiling, even in the privacy of your own home, where nobody else but the two of you have been, so you know for sure that there are no bugs or secret cameras.

The neighbourhood has been pretty quiet, and it seems the Senator is currently on a vacation of some sort, so you haven’t had the chance to profile him in person, or his house. Your own is quite nice, large with a swimming pool in the back garden. It’s modern, and neat, and oozes luxury. 

If you weren’t so fucked up, if you still wanted the ring and kids and picket fence, you would’ve loved it here. You can almost see it — a partner grilling an assortment of meats and vegetables that have been marinating in a secret spice mix for hours, kids splashing and playing about in the shallow end of the pool, you and other guests lounging on the chairs as the sun sets, washing everything in sight in hues of golden orange. Or if it’s just your family, maybe sneak some affection from your partner with a hand around their waist and a kiss pressed to the back of their neck. It’s perfect. Given that Bucky’s from the 40s, he must be losing his mind. He’s pretending, albeit, but he’s gotten the simple life he must’ve dreamed of and clung to. It’s a shame he’s with you.

Which brings you to right now, standing in front of the oven with your arms crossed, waiting for an old-fashioned timer to go off. You stare at it, at the minutes ticking by. There’s nothing much left to do. You’ve already unpacked all the kitchen crockery, throwing away the last of the cardboard. The blue frosting and white icing is mixed and ready on the counter, and you hate yourself. It’s March 10th, today. Bucky’s birthday. 

His kindness in these past two weeks has completely swayed you, so here you stand, baking him a fresh batch of cupcakes you’re going to be decorating, just for him. You don’t know why, it feels like you glanced at your new phone, registered the date, and all you did was blink and now here you stand. Bucky’s still fast asleep in his bedroom.

That was another relief of the house — there were two bedrooms. Thank God, the two of you sleep separately. You’ve shared a bed before, on several missions and attempts to get the two of you to enter a state of permanent civility, and oddly enough you missed those nights sometimes.

When you weren’t tired enough, so the nightmares ran rampant in the small area of your brain and the large expanse of your imagination. Sometimes you’d wake up pressed tightly against him, and you knew he must have held you to ground you. Other times, he’d still be fast asleep, and you would often trace all the intricate ridges and details of his vibranium arm. You’ve gotten adjusted to the sight of his brand new, human arm, but you miss the black and gold. You’d rather die than verbally express so, but you miss it. You miss the way it soothed you, distracted you. The way it created space in your mind for something that wasn’t torturous memories lashing out at you. 

If he knows about it, he’s never said anything. About the nightmares. Not even two nights ago when you had woken up screaming and trying to escape out the window, desperate to escape a phantom wielding a bloodied knife. He’d just calmed you down, talked you back to the centre of the room and held you.

He likes doing that a lot now, finding excuses to touch you. It’s comforting, like you’ve been on edge your entire life and are just now finding peace. You hate it. You hate everything about your current situation, but it’s simultaneously a humongous relief. To not have to constantly have your guard up and be ready to fire insults like they’re bullets. You can just be, and revel in the way he’s not treating you like he’d rather be anywhere else.

The timer goes off. The cupcakes cool. The recipe is something your mother taught you — your only remaining inheritance you carried with you. You smother them in frosting, writing HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUCKY with one letter on each cupcake, leaving two for free reign. You chose to simply put the number 107 on each of them, and arrange them on a wonderful, dark blue tray.

You let yourself smile, proud of the work you’ve accomplished so far, at only 9AM in the morning. And then, a voice grubbed over with sleep, yet not as annoying as you remember calls out.

“Whatcha bakin’ there, doll?” You turn to him, rubbing his eyes and yet thankfully wearing a shirt. His hair is still messy, and you move forward to fix it for him as he shoots you another lazy grin. This has become somewhat of another step of routine between the two of you. He always wakes up with messy hair he cannot be asked to comb, and you got tired of berating him for it. He’d complain theres no mirror around and being to pout until you huffed and fixed it for him.

You try and pretend like you don’t notice his conspicuous eyes fixed on your face like he’s desperate to memorise it. 

“Happy birthday.” You decide to keep your words simple, staring directly into his eyes, so blue that they make some long-forgotten muscle in your chest restart.

You turn around to ignore that feeling, heading back to the counter where your frosted treats await. You miss the desperate, aching look of longing on his face. It brings back memories of him, of how he acted the last time you bothered to remember one of the most basic facts about him — how he’d pretty much thrown your gifts across the room and stormed out of his own birthday party without so much as another word.

He swears to be different now. To be different to you. In all honesty, it didn’t take a genius to figure out why you dislike him so, but on the journey here, he was finally able to read between the lines. It’s pathetically embarrassing to admit why he acted that way towards you, especially now. He wonders if you’d laugh at him, shape it into another painful weapon to aim for his diaphragm.

“Happy Birthday, Bucky. I know being stuck with me isn’t ideal, well, let’s be honest, you’d probably rather be back in cryo—.”

“No I wouldn’t,” he replies all too fast, staring down at the tray in your hands. He tries to ignore the rampant beat of his heart as he registers that you finally called him Bucky, instead of literally anything else. He knows you do it to spite him, and admires that you’d still never call him the Winter Soldier, despite how deep the faux hatred between the two of you ran. Well, faux hatred on his part.

He’s been in love with you for years. And when he finally realised it, you’d already moved past trying to be nice to him. He’s missed his chance with you, he knows this. But he finds himself growing more and more desperate with every passing year to manufacture that chance. But every time he builds up the courage, it seems you’re too busy flirting or eye-fucking literally anyone who isn’t him. And it crushes him beyond belief, every single time.

Without fail.

“Oh, okay. Didn’t mean to bring that up. Erm, I made you these cakes. They’re my mum’s recipe, and as far as I know you’re not allergic to anything in here.” He plasters a grin right back on his face.

“Aren’t you gonna sing for me, doll?” God, you wish you could hate that nickname. But it’s a step above Butterface, that’s for sure. And as much as you hate him, it is his birthday. You don’t know how much you can bring yourself to deny him, especially what with all the kindness he’s been showing you recently.

“Do you want me to?” God, Bucky wishes you could love him back. That those beautiful eyes he dreams about so often, just stare at him with some warmth, some fondness. Like you did when he first got here, when he didn’t deserve your affection. But those versions of the both of you are long gone. 

“‘Course I do. It’s my birthday after all.” You roll those pretty eyes and huff, pretending to be annoyed. 

You grab the candles from the cutlery drawer you bought in a last minute impulse on your grocery shopping run, and stick them in two of the cupcakes, lighting them with your lighter — the only physical inheritance from your mother. You still remember that night, when she pressed it into your small hands and begged you to hide underneath the bed, before all hell broke loose. She always had a lit cigarette in her hand, and the smell of ashes always brings memories of her floating back to you. It’s a simple golden one, engraved with a venomous snake on the front and her name embossed — her name before she got married. It’s your most prized possession. Bucky watches as you run a thumb over it with that fond look in your eyes, and his heart catches in his throat. You’ve never been more vulnerable than you are in this moment, not even when you were on the floor crying over the thought of pretending to be married. All of your guards are temporarily lowered, and he sees how your hard exterior gives way to something softer and warmer, a version of you long buried under the stresses of your job and the malice you exude in his presence.

And he’s obsessed with the ring on your finger, the way you play with it when bored or pensive. Actually, he’s just obsessed with you. You begin singing with a small, yet seemingly genuine, smile on your face. He thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. 

You have a lovely voice, even if it’s reserved for showers and to be lost in impromptu choirs. But his heightened senses mean he can still pick your voice out of the crowd, can still feel the weight of it wash over him like a perfect blanket. He wishes you’d cling to him like that, like the songs you sing when you think nobody’s listening or paying attention.

And then you call him Bucky again, and his heart goes out the window. He’s practically vibrating where he stands and clutching his fists to his sides in trying not to kiss you. You wouldn’t like that. When you finish, he closes his eyes and wishes for you like he does every year. 

He guesses a lesser man would’ve lost hope, after seven birthday wishes asking for one person, and yet still having them so close yet so out of reach. But he’ll beg, every year, until someone out there decides he shall have no more. He’d beg for you any time, in any way you like. His heightened sense of hearing, and the two of you living on the same floor, means he already knows how much you enjoy being begged for pleasure. How much you enjoy being in charge.

When he first got to New York after Wakanda, the only room that was available was across the hall from yours. He didn’t mind. Even though he’d completely forgotten how to talk to people he finds insanely attractive, so insanely enigmatic that all he can do is try his best to not let drool drip out of his mouth when he watches you do even the most mundane things like eat cereal with your hair still messy from a long night, in a sports bra and joggers. Showing off every inch of that perfect body he’s worshipped so many times in his dreams. It’s why he hasn’t moved out of there, because of the perverted side of him. Something he’d rather die than admit.

And of course everyone in the damn building knows, how could they not? When they see the way he looks at you when you storm out of a room, how he almost misses the punching bag when he sees you training weights across the room with sweat slicking your hair to your forehead. He thinks you’ve never looked more irresistible, and he’d do anything to get his hands on you, in any way you allow. Why do you think he asks you to spar so often? 

You grin at him. “Bucky privileges are only for these 24 hours, then I go right back to James. And I got you something.” You hand him the tiny box, gift wrapped in blue as he looks at you with an adorable blush on his face.

“You really didn’t have to do all of this, doll.”

“I wanted to make you feel more at home. And I needed to talk to you about something.” You’re wearing one of his old flannel shirts, folding your arms across your chest. You’d requested some of his bigger, older shirts to wear, and had told him it’s considered a form of deep intimacy in the 21st century. And those six shirts are all you’ve worn around the house, often with biker shorts on underneath. You know, just to drive him to ridiculous heights of insanity, of course. 

“We should call a truce. Officially. I mean, we’re being civil, and it goes unspoken. But officially, for the record, we should call a truce. At least, not be mean to each other. I wanted today to be the beginning of it, end date TBD.”

“Yeah, that’s fine with me. Now, can I open it?” You nod, gesturing at the box. You watch his face as he delicately unwraps your birthday gift, for any signs of discomfort on his face. If he’s truly okay with the peace you’ve proposed between the two of you. 

“Come here.” He commands. You’re surprised how quickly you comply, walking across the counter to stand mere inches from him. You wonder if he’s going to treat this gift like he did the last, and make sure you end up crying this time. 

“This is a wonderful gift, doll. I really, really love it. Thank you.” Before you can protest, he pulls you in for a quick side hug. You don’t miss how his blue eyes glow as he takes the New York keyring out of it’s container, running his thumb over the Statue of Liberty. 

He feels…so warm. And so cosy, all perfect for snuggling up. You find yourself wishing he hadn’t pulled away from the hug, desperate to feel more of his warmth against you than ever before. You suppress the need as it emerges, but you’re not strong enough.

“Yeah yeah. Whatever. What do you wanna do today? We could go out.” You try to remain impartial, but it’s proving difficult.

Keeping up all of your guards and walls is becoming more and more difficult with each passing day, and you find yourself becoming soft. The one thing you despise, but you also crave. 

You have no idea what’s happening to you.

And it’s terrifying.

NEXT PART

[thehomophobe]

You were on daycare duty again, which isn't bad considering to get to see your favorite set of twins for the rest of the day, and night too. You were currently helping with a little math lesson with the children, acting as a humble lady selling apple in the street. Your basket was filled with some plastic apples from the toy kitchen and a scarf replaced you hat to adds a more willowy nature to the character. 

"Now, if the lovely apple lady has 12 apples in her basket and Moon buys 3 of them," Moon picks up 3 apples from the basket after giving you three Monopoly dollars, thanking you for the apples. "How many apples does the lady have left?" Sun asked. The children go quiet, contemplating the question in their minds. It isn't difficult for an adult, but any number higher than 10 is harder for younger children. 

"5?" A girl answered. Sun shakes his head.

"7." A boy answered. Sun shakes his head again.

"3!" Another boy shouted. "No.." Sun gestures his finger pointer to you. "Count how many apples are inside the basket." You started taking out the plastic apples one-by-one to help the kids see. Numbers sang in harmonic unison as each plastic produce was displayed. 

"9!" They all shout. Sun congratulated them for getting the answer right, even if he gave them a hint. 

"Great job everyone! Now guess what time is it~?"

 "Snacktime!"

"Oh you guys are so smart!" Sun giggled as he herded the children over to the tables. You helped put away the apples and the whiteboard while Moon brought the cardboard crates of sandwiches, juice boxes, and chips. 

"Thanks for the apples, apple lady." Moon joked.

"You paid $30 in Monopoly money, I should accuse you for counterfeit currency."

"It's not too far for what you pay for real apples nowadays." You snorted, he's right. 

Now sitting with five other kids, you sat with your lunch taking most of the space of the table. A large Tupperware was filled with jerk chicken on rice. Just opening released a waft of deliciousness. You, and the rest of kids, happily ate their lunches. One kid, an albino girl, watched you eat your rice and chicken with curiosity. 

"It's chicken and rice." You told her. 

"Can I...have a piece...?" The girl said slowly. "Please..."

You never sure about giving any child your food, even when they ask politely. Every parent always signs a food allergen notice embedded in the waiver, which is automatically sent to Sun & Moon right before the children into the daycare. Even if you did know, you didn't want to risk it. Luckily another kid ask Sun if dinosaurs were real, which spurred a whole discussion between everyone, so crisis averted.

After a long debate of chickens and dinosaurs, it was soon time for nap time. Moon took over and darkens the room, pulling out blankets and pillows for the children to sleep. Sunny cleans up the tables and picks up the toys, yawning in the process, as Moon reads a book to calm the children. You stayed back at your post, filing some extra reports you had left to do before you forget. *sssssLUMP*

Your bag dropped from underneath the desk. A little face poked out of the lip. Soft red eyes stare at you. Oh right, that. A few days ago, Sun invited you to stay before you headed home. Apparently a grandparent donated knitting and crocheting needles, as well as a bunch of yarn, all for craft making. Normally crafts are only limited to paper and color pencil, and sometimes the scissors. A child around 2-5 years old doesn't really have the dexterity for knitting, crocheting or sewing. Not to mention the daycare prohibits children uses needles so that won't even work out at all. But despite all those rules, Sun broke them just for a night with you. Through the night he taught you how to knit and you later result in a poorly crafted Sun doll, which you gave to him as gift.

That poorly crafted doll didn't deter you from crafting again though. Seeing how little attention and gifts he had, it was only fair that Moon had a (non-branded) doll of his own. So you sent the past few days watching videos on how to make crochet plushies for your sweethearts. You picked up the doll before adjusting your bag upright. "I did better this time." You thought to yourself, nodding your head in pride. Said lunar android was currently in his room tucking his brother in for the night. You looked at the time, you had a doctor's appointment soon, meaning you unfortunately had to leave early.

Damn.

And you really wanted Moon to see it too. 

You huffed as you log out the computer, the doll relocating from your lap to the desk. Post-it notes were in the left drawer underneath pens and pencils and rubber bands and other stationary things. The standard yellow sticky note was being written on by a glittery pen with a pompom on top and sat on the doll's head, his back turn from your sight. You grabbed your bag and headed out quietly, silently wishing to announce your depart without being more late than the time now.

Moon gracefully settled down from the castle in the painted sky, eyes soft and content now that his brother was asleep. Which meant for some (mischief making) cuddles and quality time with his starlight.

"Hm?"

His star was right here. Where'd she go? 

Red eyes settled upon smaller red eyes, the light of the board behind the desk illuminated the doll sitting quietly on the desk. The dwarf-sized doll was soft and a little squishy. It had navy blue locks of hair, a milky colored face, and ruby red eyes. It was wearing starry themed pajamas with a nightcap, hot glue held a bell at the end of it. It was smiling, peacefully, like it was content with the silence of the daycare. A post-it note written on top of it. 

"Made you something"

Black pen ink scribbled. Moon gazed at the doll.

"She...made this...?" He thought, smiling like his smaller, plush counterpart.

Moon sat on the ground, hugging the doll, cherishing the wonderful gift.

[manygeese]

Small Town Affair Chapter 2: Free is a Multifaceted Word

Jason wasn’t surprised when he opened his email to find a notice of termination. After all, he couldn’t possibly expect his father to spare him from his company’s recent downsizing. But he didn’t want in on the family business (secrets, scams, blackmail, wonderful things like that) anyways.

Being under his father’s roof, currently or formerly, in combination with living in a loud city was never that good for Jason’s health. Too many times he had found himself deprived of any and all energy after a stressful day at work. Too many times had he found himself wanting to rot in bed or simply not wake up in the morning. Too many times had he found himself wondering if he had anyone to live for, or if anyone would miss him if he were to just leave.

The Graces had never been a happy family, but at one point, they had been whole. There had been a time when Mom had been alive and semi-functioning, Thalia had been just a room or two away, and Father hadn’t felt the need to attempt parenting, thankfully. That time had long passed and would never return. Mom was six feet under due to a drunk driving incident, Thalia had gotten the hell out of dodge the first chance she got, and unfortunately, that meant dear old dad had more opportunities to yell at poor old Jason.

All in all, Jason was a little sick of it. Maybe that was why, once he was wholly untethered from the big city, he decided to get as far away from it as possible.

As he stepped over the threshold of his new, empty apartment, Jason felt distinctly adrift. He was in an ocean of change, clinging onto a piece of timber like an alley cat, hissing, spitting, and hydrophobic. He found himself wondering in the peaceful atmosphere, which was better: unhappy with connections (however useless), or happy (ready to be) yet lost?

Clicking the door shut behind him, he wandered towards the nearest cluster of boxes. He reached for his utility knife in his back pocket to open one, just to have something to do. The sound of the box cutter gliding across the packing tape filled the room. Then, there was the sound of cardboard rustling, the doors flopping open.

Jason was met with a painting mummified in bubble wrap. Vaguely, Jason recalled the afternoon he spent painting it, back when he was still in high school. It was in the Grace Mansion’s sunroom, which had seen little use since Mom couldn’t have used it to take naps in anymore. He had been struck with inspiration when he watched the sunbeams filter through the lattice fence into the room, so he had rushed to grab his sketchbook and watercolors. He had spent ages carving out pathways of water and blotting out patches of pigment to replicate the scene in that idyllic way that Jason longed for.

That particular sketchbook had been ripped up by his father not a moment after he had finished the painting. “Art isn’t a job,” his father had said, ripping a page between every syllable, “it’s a useless waste of money. It’s nothing a son of mine would do.”

A teenaged Jason had gathered the scraps of paper with shaking hands, keeping them for a reason he didn’t yet know. But a twenty-something Jason- well, he didn’t have any clue why, but he had an urge to make it better. Two days before the move, he had gotten a canvas and glued the paper into something resembling its former glory. Faded? Sure. Ruined? Most people would say so. But it was his.

Hours later, Jason discovered that going to sleep in a bed so familiar in a place so foreign was an odd experience. He stared at the blank ceiling, feeling himself drowning in that ocean of change. Just a little, though. Just a little.

~*~

The ocean spat Jason out into the next morning, delirious from sleep and cold despite the abundance of blankets. He shuffled out of bed, pulling on his shirt and pants from the day before. It was early, judging by the lack of light seeping through the blinds, but that was something Jason was used to. “The early bird gets the worm” was his father’s favorite saying and one of the more harmless things he passed on to Jason.

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he headed to the kitchen and shucked open a box or two until he found a pan, a bowl, and a spatula. He had brought everything in his previous pantry with him on the drive to the new town, so he opened up that box and took out a dusty bag of flour, a lukewarm semi broken carton of eggs, a few melted sticks of butter, and several other ingredients in similar conditions. This is what he got for not bothering to pack everything better.

Jason started to mix together a pancake batter recipe he had learned by heart. It was all Thalia could make by herself when they were kids, when Mom didn’t care enough to feed them and Father was too stingy to pay for a chef. On Saturdays, they’d make a huge batch for a whole week’s worth of breakfast, and dump in a cup of chocolate chips at the end to make some for that day’s lunch. “We deserve a treat,” Thalia had always said, grinning ear to ear as she vigorously stirred the batter. Eight year old Jason had just sat on the counter and kicked his legs back and forth, happy to be spending time with his sister. “Mom won’t miss these chocolate chips, will she?”

The pancakes managed to get better every time Jason fixed them, which he posited was not because they were actually that good (they were the best Thalia could make at fifteen), but because distance made the heart grow fonder and whatnot.

There was a knock on the door after Jason had finished flipping the last pancake. Heading towards it, he hoped to find a friendly neighbor to chat with. He’d even take a door to door salesman.

But no- when he opened it, there was nothing but a newspaper. How quaint.

Feeling distinctly like a sitcom dad, he sat on his one and only armchair and shook the paper open. The title was straightforward; simply reading “The Athens Times”. The headline read “LARGEST CORN HARVEST SINCE 1992!”

He skimmed the passages, skipping over the ads for various plumbing or roofing services, but took the time to read the cartoon at the bottom of the third page. He huffed a chuckle at it.

The section he cared the most about, though, was the job offer sections. “Help Wanted”, it said in bold on the last page. There were ads taken out for aforementioned plumbing and roofing companies, one for what was probably a dead end office job, and one for some local farm.

Jason was smart enough to realize that he couldn’t live on his savings forever, and should therefore pursue employment. He debated his options.

First were plumbing and roofing, which he felt like could be lumped in together. They were manual labor professions, which could be interesting, since Jason hadn’t ever done something like that in his career. But plumbing required knowing how to plumb and roofing required knowing how to roof. Now, Jason may have known how to unclog a toilet, or build a Lego set, but he was no expert. For now, those opportunities were off the table.

Then there was the office job. To put it simply, Jason had had his fill of sitting in one of those godforsaken swivel chairs with those godforsaken fluorescents above him and his godforsaken father looking over his shoulder every three minutes. Even though he knew his father wouldn’t be at this particular office, Jason wasn’t jumping at the chance to be back in that environment. Therefore, this was a dead end.

Finally, the farm. Maybe it was just from watching too many Hallmark movies, but when he thought of a farm, he pictured acres upon and acres of crops, a big red barn, and a picturesque farmhouse with yellowish green grass sprouting up in front of it. It seemed like the type of place to build a family, to create connections. Seeing no other offers, Jason decided to apply for that one. Maybe it’d be fun working as a farmhand.

~*~

Jason shivered a little bit as he made his way through the chilly morning air. Ever the people pleaser, after he’d gotten his new job as a farmhand, he decided to show up early. It was 5:00 in the morning and he was now regretting that decision.

Huffing out a visible breath, he closed his eyes and shoved his hands into his coat pockets. He pressed his arms closer to his sides and forged ahead.

Unfortunately, he didn’t hear the ring of a bicycle bell until it was too late. His eyes shot open when he heard a yelp from what he presumed to be the bicycle’s owner. Jason looked up just in time to see the other person skid to a halt dangerously close to the fence they were traveling along. Ultimately, they lost balance, and the stranger fell to the ground at Jason’s feet.

“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry,” Jason fretted, crouching down to help the person up. “Are you alright?”

The stranger scoffed, taking off their helmet and shaking their hair out. “It’s alright, man, I just don’t see many people walking this route at this time of day. Or… night. Point is, I’m not used to it, y’know?”

Jason reached for the man’s elbow, but flinched away at the last second when he realized it was weird to just grab a stranger’s arm. “Um, I’m Jason,” he said, moving his hand so it seemed like he was going for a handshake the entire time.

“Leo,” said Leo, accepting the hand, but not shaking it.

For a moment, Jason was captivated by the way the streetlight bounced off of the man’s curls. The bright white of the light may have washed out any and all colors, but to Jason, that just made Leo more elegant. He looked like an angel from a black and white fifties movie. The planes of Leo’s face were highlighted in a soft white, the shadows a nice blueish gray that an art critic would call impressionist. If Jason came across this exact scene in an art museum, it’d be his favorite painting. Better yet, what if he painted it himself?

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Jason hoisted the other up by where their hands were joined. It was only after Leo let go of his hand that Jason realized how warm his hands were. Leo pulled his bike back upright and waved goodbye as he mounted it again. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Jason, but I’ve gotta get to work. I’ve never understood why high school started so early,” he mumbled the last part under his breath, making Jason laugh.

As Leo took off, leaving Jason with an inconvenient and hopefully short term attraction to him, Jason wondered what his father would think if he told him he liked men. He had figured it out long ago, probably halfway through high school, but he had never told his father for what he thought were obvious reasons.

“Father, I’m gay,” hypothetical Jason would have said.

“That’s nice,” imaginary Father would have responded. No, he wouldn’t have said that. It would have been something more like “no son of mine” or “it’s just a phase” or “is conversion camp still legal?”

In an ideal world, hypothetical Jason would have told imaginary Father to go fuck himself. But this wasn’t an ideal world, so Jason told his father nothing at all.

~*~

thanks for reading, next update’s gonna be on Saturday! See y’all then :)

[slinkies-and-dragons]

Temporary Setups

Ok ok ok. what do you do when you expected to adopt 5 snakes but come home with 6 and a beardie?

Improvise!

We had limited time to setup something that would work for the new ball pythons and Barry the beardie, so we got to work right away sourcing supplies for these babies.

Please keep in mind this is TEMPORARY while we work on their proper enclosures.

The snakes get to be set up in my room. they're perfectly placed against a wall in the containers they were in from the SPCA. We're planning some bioactive setups for each beeb.

They fit so well, it was meant to be!

Some of them are in cardboard boxes for hides, and a lot of the hides are too small. We're working on creating some nice new temporary hides for them that will fit their little selves better and provide more privacy.

Next is Barry! We set him up in a 20gal for the night while we work on cleaning our 55gal to transfer him to.

He was so sleepy when we got him home that he didn't even care that it was bare. he curled up in the corner and napped after a little worm snack. We're going to need to work on his weight, but he ate breakfast this morning like a healthy and hungry little guy so I'm not too worried about him.

Currently our Rankin's dragon is brumating in the 55gal, so we're planning a way to move her that will be the least disruptive. Barry will have lots of cuddle time and floor time while he waits for the upgrade. He's a little cuddle bug!

Barry also has some stuck shed, so a nice warm bath is in his future!

I'm excited to work on their enclosures! They're going to be much happier once it's sorted.

[vanosslirious]

BBS Dialogue Prompts #227

BBS Dialogue & Sentence Starter Prompts: [ 8 ]

SMII7Y

He’s gotta be glitched.

We gotta kill him.

They’re going to fucking chiptole.

Shut up and kiss me.

Someone else should look at this, I'm not smart enough for this, I'm gonna put it down.

This fucking room is a mess.

Wait, what, shut the fuck up.

Get this fucker out of here.

Open that up, bitch.

I’m gonna read this, kay.

Someone just broke shit.

I’m stealing all the jewelry.

This is a Goddamn ouija board, I ain’t doing this shit.

Bro, I’m having a blast, I love this shit.

These two are playing their own game, I love it.

That’s fucking creepy, bro.

Why are we happy about this, we just disturbed a demon.

I don’t think this is going to end well.

What the fuck, ya’ll just doing shit.

I hate this so much.

BIGPUFFER

How do you go so high?

Why are you stealing his dentures?

It's like nothing even fucking happened.

You're a terrible host.

You stupid little whore.

This is not how it's supposed to go.

We lost that helicopter, didn't we?

Hello, my friend, drop the fucking money!

It's a fucking pirate ship.

Thank you, get in.

NOGLA

I just want this to end!

Fuck it, I want to win.

I'm just going to put it in the bathtub and go to sleep.

It didn't quite work.

What the fuck do you have in the back?

Let’s go, we actually have a group name.

I’m not spending a penny.

That’s a really bad tattoo.

I thought that was fitting…considering our group.

Why would I lie?

VANOSSGAMING

Guys, look what I found.

Now you can’t shoot backwards.

There’s someone in that room, I think.

All things considered, that was pretty close.

It’s a cardboard cut out of a fucking soldier.

Just say the word.

Doesn't mean we just chillax and take naps like you're currently doing.

Oh, you're still trying to get the mugger.

You've been here since Tuesday.

I should probably shut up.

GRIZZY

Just give it to me.

I'm glad we were all confused.

Hold the fuck up.

Yeah, that's what I'm fucking wondering, they're fucking panicking.

I know how this will end.

I feel like I'm on an acid trip.

I look like a goddamn uber driver.

You're lucky I can't shoot for some reason.

That's a terrible impression.

It's our birthday!

BLARG

I probably deserved that.

I want that one, give me that one.

Nah, I want this one.

I can't afford no drinks.

No, I didn't, I tried to scare you.

Sounds like my grandpa when I steal his dentures while he's taking a nap.

I wanted to try them on.

Yeah, I'm getting tired of picking those up.

How long do you think I can stand on this bridge before I die?

I could go make some food…

WILDCAT

Someone fucking kill him please before he finishes the story.

Well, I didn't go in, I killed your bitch ass outside before you can escape.

We're doing some work now.

Wiped out, baby, let's go.

Oh come on, it's so close.

It might be the same…

Who's this little guy?

I was just petting him.

They're all addicts, what is this?

What's at the end of the rainbow?

MOO

Oh, I think it's the spirit box you dropped when you screamed like a girl.

Do we have a motion sensor setup?

Sounds like you're getting abducted.

Sir, are you playing Cash Royale?

I couldn't make up my mind if I wanted to fake you out or not.

It's nowhere close.

The train's coming!

Hey, he took mine!

Check this out.

You guys left while I was surrounded by zombies.

[mortemoppetere]

TIMING: current LOCATION: deersprings, near la sauce PARTIES: @vanoincidence & @mortemoppetere SUMMARY: van tries to support a local business and buy some fondue and instead gets bullied by a mean old man. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

IT’S IN THE SAUCE! IN THE SAUCE, GET YOUR SAUCE! 

Van looked up from her phone, mildly interested in what the man in the trench coat was yelling about. In the cart next to him were bottles of what looked like off-yellow cheese. The cardboard sign taped to the cart had CHEESE FONDUE, SAUCE FONDUE, IT’S IN THE SAUCE written on it in bright green and blue sharpie with an assortment of cheese drawn into the corners. Van hadn’t ever heard of fondue cheese being sold in bottles, but then again, she didn’t know much about cheese like, at all. She was lactose intolerant, so why would she? Then again, the box of Kraft with dinner written all over it would beg to differ. But like, that wasn’t even real cheese, even if the box insisted that it was. 

The man caught her eye and she muttered obscenities under her breath before she quickly looked back down to her phone. Van winced as the man began to yell at her in an attempt to gain her attention. “YOU LOOK LIKE YOU WANT FONDUE FOR TWO!” Aside from the terrible pun (she thought it was supposed to be a pun), he was aggressively friendly with wind burnt cheeks and a wide smile that displayed a silver tooth. Van shook her head, pointing to the earbuds in her ears, motioning as if she were trying to say that she couldn’t hear him. He waved away her attempt and held up two bottles of the fondue, quickly shuffling over to her. 

“I’ll give them to you for free, little missy, as long as you use that there QR code about your expe– happiness with the sauc-y fondue!” 

It impressed Van that the man even knew what a QR code was. “For free?” She looked at the bottles in his hand, then back at him with a less than enthused expression. “I’m not–” 

“Nonsense, everyone wants the sauce! The cheese! The sauce is in the cheese, the cheese in the sauce, it’s yellow like the sun, only you have never seen the sun! We can’t see the sun.” 

He had lost her then. “Uhh…” She regretted meeting his eye now, regretting even leaving her house. Now, she just wanted to be left alone. “Fine, I’ll take a bottle.” 

The man lit up like the fourth of July and he handed over the two bottles.

—-

This had to have been the stupidest fucking case he’d ever gotten. And that was saying a lot, all things considered. He’d found missing cats who were napping under the furniture the clients who hired him were sitting on when they’d hired him, had hunted down ‘missing’ kids who had just forgotten to text their moms back, had been paid his full rate just to run a quick search and confirm that, yes, SHVITZ was an actual word, and this was still the stupidest fucking case anyone had ever brought across his desk.

But the college kid who’d brought it to him had paid up front, so, here he was. Looking for someone selling the stupid fucking sauce that had popped up in town under the guise of selling fondue to anyone stupid enough to buy it. 

He couldn’t imagine that business was booming, because even if it were real cheese… who would want to buy cheese from a stranger in the middle of nowhere? What the hell kind of a business model was that? Emilio was hardly a seasoned businessman, but even he knew that this was no way to go about things.

And yet, when he got to the location the kid had given him, there was someone standing across from the fucking sauce fondue guy, reaching a hand out to take the recycled water bottles full of gooey, dyed, definitely not cheese right from his grubby hands. Emilio didn’t think. He marched forward, planting himself beside the kid who was apparently in dire need of cheese, and slapped the bottle right out of her hand. “What,” he said through gritted teeth, “the fuck is wrong with you?”

—-

Van jumped as a man charged forward, slapping the bottle from her hand, just before she could even grab the second. She stared at the ground, then looked up at the cheese man who now wore a surprised and fearful expression. He sputtered something before taking off at a brisk jog, his fingers hooked through the belt loops of his jeans to keep them from falling down. Van watched in disbelief as he wheeled his cart deeper into the common. 

The bottle at her feet was now covered in wet grass and she frowned. Van looked back up at the man. “What was that about? If you wanted it, you could’ve asked him for some! He was giving it away for free!” She leaned down to pick up the bottle and she began to wipe it against her pants, ignoring the newly formed grass stains on her jeans. “What is your deal?” 

—

Cheese guy ran, and Emilio wondered if he should be chasing him. He’d left his ‘cheese’ behind, so there was no danger of him selling it to anyone else, but… He could probably collect more. It was something Emilio would have to deal with sooner or later, but he didn’t exactly foresee the guy being hard to find. He walked around the woods screaming about cheese and sauce. Even without his detective skills or hunter senses, Emilio would have been able to track him down just fine.

And he probably had… other things to deal with first, anyway. He could have been a little gentler with the would-be sauce consumer, he knew. Smacking the bottle from her hand might have been a little bit dramatic, but what was he supposed to do? If she drank it, there was no telling what might happen. (The kid who’d hired him claimed that his buddy had ‘become the sauce.’ Emilio couldn’t even begin to comprehend what that might mean, and he didn’t think he wanted to.) So, he didn’t have the best approach. What else was new?

“If I — You think I wanted some?” Emilio sputtered, turning to watch in disbelief as the girl picked up the bottle he’d just smacked to the ground. “Put that shit down, kid. You know what could happen to you if you’re stupid enough to put that in your mouth? What the hell are you doing, wandering around taking bottles of shit from strangers? Jesus.”

—

The man looked angry. He must have really liked the sauce, or the fondue, or whatever the hell the man had been selling. Van was sure it was cheese, even if it was colored weird. Some cheeses weren’t as vibrant, right? Van stared up at him, brows pulled together in obvious confusion. He was upset that she… took the sauce from the guy? Sure, maybe it was a little sketchy, but he was being loud enough that if anything bad happened, he’d surely be tracked down. 

“It’s cheese. I’m already lactose intolerant, so what’s the worst that could happen? Shit my brains out?” Van tugged the bottle closer to her chest, now frustrated that the anti-sauce man wanted to take away the free thing she’d been given. “He had a QR code on his poster! It looked legit!” Granted, calling it a poster was too high of a compliment for the jagged cardboard he had written on in sharpie. “Did he sell you spoiled cheese or something? Is that why you’re upset? Here, really, you can have mine.” She shoved it at his chest. “It’s probably all messed up now that it fell onto the ground anyway. Molecules and shit.” 

—

She thought shitting her brains out was the worst thing that could happen here? Emilio was beginning to wonder if she was one of those people in town who had no idea what Wicked’s Rest really was. It was always strange to think about, especially for a man who’d grown up with his life so intertwined with the supernatural that he found it impossible to separate himself from it, even if he was still technically human. But in this town? It seemed even weirder. A giant puddle of sludge had appeared in town overnight and spit out bones at random. How could people write that off in their heads without accepting a world that was wider than they’d always assumed it to be?

“What the fuck is a QR code?” How did that make something like this look ‘legit?’ “You know what? It doesn’t matter. He didn’t — I don’t want that.” Emilio took a large step back, scrambling to avoid coming into contact with the sludge. Some of it that had gathered on the outside of the bottle got onto his shirt, anyway, and he quickly swatted at it with his hand. “It isn’t cheese,” he snapped. “Look at it. It’s obviously that shit that’s been coming out of the ground with three bottles of food coloring in it.”

—

“What do you mean what is a QR code? It’s a QR code!” Van wasn’t really sure how QR codes worked either, she just knew they did. And so what if cheese came out of the ground, didn’t that mean it was really rare or something? Didn’t they bury fancy cheeses in certain countries so it would mold faster? The bottle was on the ground now and though it did look a little less like cheese and more like what the man had mentioned, Van was still certain it was the fondue the man had promised. 

She leaned down, grabbing the bottle off of the ground. Some of the fondue’s residue had gotten onto the outside of the bottle, which didn’t mean anything at all to Van. “Dude, why are you just throwing it around? It’s just cheese!” She let out a frustrated sigh and got to her feet. As soon as she did so, she felt small. The man was much taller than herself, but she could feel tall when she had something to prove. “Here. Look!” Van uncapped the bottle and shook her hand slightly as some of the fondue got onto it. The smell of the fondue was not reminiscent of cheese at all, but she was committed to the bit. Van held the bottle, cheersing the stranger before lifting it to her lips. 

—

“Saying it again doesn’t tell me what it is,” Emilio snapped, frustration abundantly clear. Why did people do this? Just say things that made no sense and expect him to understand them? And why did they think that repeating something would make it make more sense? If he didn’t understand them the first time, he wouldn’t understand the same words repeated back to him! That should be obvious! 

But clearly, obvious had no place here. Not when the girl was leaning down to pick up the damn bottle again, scolding him for throwing it around. “No es queso,” he snapped, emphasizing each word with a shake of his head. But then she was uncapping the bottle, was holding it out, was putting it to her lips. And that was — fuck. That was bad. That was really bad. Emilio wasn’t about to watch some fucking kid get turned into sauce trying to prove a point to him. He reached out again, intent on snatching the bottle away from her before she could do any real damage.

—

Not even Van’s high school Spanish class could help her there. Though, she had heard the word cheese. Maybe he was finally agreeing with her. If she were to ever look back on the moment in wiser years, she would kick herself for not hearing the no before es queso.  

The strange man grabbed the bottle again, and Van was left speechless. She stared at him, her hand still cupped around the air as if the bottle were still in her grip. “Dude!” Van wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take. She didn’t understand the big deal. It was just cheese. Maybe this man was upset that he was lactose intolerant and that he couldn’t share in the fun. “I’m also lactose intolerant, it’s okay, I’ve got lactaid in my bag somewhere. Are you really that upset?” 

—

He managed to yank the bottle away from her again, but it didn’t feel like much of a victory. What was the point in stopping her from drinking the cheese if she was going to keep trying? Was she going to hunt down the man who’d been selling it after he left and buy more? Why did she want to drink it so badly? None of it made an ounce of sense.

Neither did her refusal to believe that it wasn’t cheese. It didn’t even look like cheese. Was there some other kind of cheese, some kind Emilio had never seen that looked like this? Who would eat it? It wasn’t exactly appetizing. “I don’t even know what that means!” The frustration and stress were bubbling over now, leaving him angrier than he ought to be. “But this isn’t cheese! Look at it! It’s fucking —” He gestured vaguely, unsure how to put his thoughts to words. He’d always been bad at that. “The only other person I know of who drank this turned into goo. Do you want to turn into goo?”

—

“What do you mean you don’t know what it means?” Van blinked at him, still confused. “Do you not know what being lactose intolerant means?” Clearly he didn’t. He’d been blessed with good bowels, good for him. She pouted slightly, the urge to stomp down on the toe of his shoe with her own growing rapidly as she stood across from him. The poor cheese fondue on the ground was useless to her now. 

“Nobody just turns into goo.” She watched him carefully, brows pulled together. “Are you trying to sell me your cheese? Are you also selling cheese, so you want me to think this cheese is bad?” She knew that wasn’t the case, but it seemed like it’d exasperate him more, and this was becoming a game to her. Van should’ve been more careful, and deep down she knew that. But with everything that had happened, she needed a laugh, and this cheese-hater was providing it. “I still don’t know what you mean by the goo, but hey,” she shrugged. “I’ll trust you this once, but only if you don’t make me buy the cheese you’re selling. I bet it doesn’t even melt.” 

—-

“You hate cheese?” That was what intolerant meant, wasn’t it? And lactose, based on context clues, must mean cheese. English was a stupid language. Why couldn’t they just say cheese when they meant cheese? Why was that so hard? In any case, Emilio was pretty sure that his deduction was wrong. If she hated cheese, she wouldn’t be so adamantly trying to drink the sludge from the woods just because a stranger told her it was cheese. 

She also didn’t seem to know the goings on of Wicked’s Rest, because in this town? Someone turning into goo was very, very far from unbelievable. Emilio’s brow furrowed, and he tried to ease the frustrated anger rising in his chest. Count to ten, Juliana used to tell him. He’d counted to a hundred now. He was still furious. “I am not selling cheese,” he said slowly, enunciating each word to the best of his ability so he couldn’t be misunderstood. “I do not have cheese. There is no cheese.” At least she seemed willing to trust him… if only because the ‘cheese’ she’d been going to eat was now spilled all over the dirt. Emilio winced internally. That couldn’t be good for the ground. He made a note not to tell Nora or Ren about it. One of them was bound to get angry. “I will buy you different cheese if you agree not to buy that guy’s cheese again. Is this fair?” He probably had enough cash to buy cheese. How much could it possibly cost? 

—

Van sighed, relenting from her joke. “It means that you get fucked up when you eat any kind of dairy.” She had it worse with sour cream. Cheese, for the most part, just gave her indigestion and itchy skin. “But it doesn’t matter.” The joke seemed to have run its course. It might have been a little mean to pull on him anyway. If she had paid attention, she might have seen the genuine concern etched into his features. 

“That’s a bummer.” Van looked back down at the bottle of spilt fondue. She was no litter bug, that was for sure. “Since you know so much about the cheese–” She was about to ask him if it was safe to pick up, not that she really cared or believed him, but she stopped at his offer. She narrowed her eyes, considering the offer. “With a yoohoo and a slim jim, then you’ve got yourself a deal. No more cheese from the dude with the questionable sales tactics, but hey, he gave this to me for free. You think I would just buy weird cheese?” She would. She had proven she would. 

“Do you mean like, right now?” Stranger danger went out the window yet again as she waited for his answer expectantly. Van paused. “By the way, what is your name, mister fear-cheese-monger?” No, no, that was a terrible joke. She winced. The bit of who she was primarily online had come out in droves today, apparently. Maybe it was a sign that nature was healing. Nature, being her attempts to draw puns out of thin air. They’d always fail, no matter how hard she tried. If she could convince herself that she was somebody else right now rather than the scared little girl with blood beneath her fingernails, then it would be okay. If she could make this guy seem to believe she was stupid enough to eat the cheese fondue (she was stupid enough), then she could have a laugh later. 

—

“Then why do you want to eat it?” That made even less sense. He’d heard of self destruction — he was a pretty good example of it himself, even on the days when he refused to admit it — but fucking yourself up for cheese? Especially when the ‘cheese’ in question looked like what had been in the bottle he’d smacked out of her hand? It wasn’t even appetizing. He was beginning to realize that he didn’t understand the youth population of Wicked’s Rest even a little. He wondered if kids in their late teens and early twenties were like this everywhere or if this place was just special.

She seemed genuinely disappointed at the loss of her ‘cheese,’ though Emilio couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty about stopping her from drinking it. She’d have been far more disappointed if she’d turned into sludge and sunk into the ground, he figured. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he nodded. “Okay,” he agreed. “If you show me what a — yoohoo and a slim jim is, I’ll buy it for you.” He stumbled over the words, and they sounded wrong in his accent, but at least it meant an end was in sight. “You just tried everything you could do to eat the weird cheese. I think you would buy it, yes.” 

Right now? She wanted him to buy her things right now? At least it would end this whole charade. Hopefully, before she found the sludge cheese man again and replaced her lost bottle. “Sure. Right now.” He could come back and finish his ‘investigation’ later. “Emilio,” he replied, ignoring the pun… mostly because he didn’t quite understand it. For a man who had a thin grasp of English, English-based puns weren’t the ideal joke format. Not that he would have found it much funnier in Spanish; Emilio’s humor tended to lean more towards desert-dry sarcasm than clever plays on words. “What about you? If you don’t tell me, I’m going to keep calling you Cheese Kid in my head.”

—

“Because do you know how good cheese can be? Have you ever had a really good mozzarella pull?” She quirked a brow, crossing her arms over her chest. Van knew that Sly Slice’s cheese pulls weren’t as intense as what she’d seen from the Goofy movie, but maybe she could show this guy what she had meant and why she’d been so adamant about trying the fondue in the first place. “It doesn’t matter. You will one day.” It came off as more of a threat than it did anything else. 

Either this guy was as clueless as he made himself out to be, or he was fucking with her, too. She deserved it, after the stunt she had pulled. Van could get fondue anywhere, and the longer she looked at the goo– as the man had called it, on the ground, the less she wanted it anywhere near her mouth. Maybe he had been right, but she sure as hell was not going to admit that she thought so. She took his word for not knowing what either a slim jim or a yoohoo looked like and gave him a curt nod. “Sure.” At least it meant she could con him into buying the bottle of yoohoo. That was so much better. “I think you’ll like them, they look like something you’d eat too.” He didn’t seem very healthy, and he smelled a little like booze now that she was paying attention. “That’s your opinion, who am I to change it?” 

Van wanted so desperately to be this person she was pretending to be now. To pretend to be the idiot girl begging to eat the cheese. Because if she did, it meant that she wasn’t an anxiety ridden mess on no sleep and no hope that tomorrow would be better. 

“Emilio.” She sounded out his name, nodding, as if it were an appropriate name for a guy like him. “I’m Van. Not. Like. The. Car.” She paused, grabbing her bag from the bench, then looked down at the ooze. It continued to bubble, but she forced herself not to notice too much. If she cleaned it up with something else, it’d only prove the man’s point, and she couldn’t have that. So instead, she grabbed the cleanest part she could find from the base of the bottle and tossed it into the trash can. “There, it’s gone. Happy?” 

—

It sounded like she was threatening him with cheese now, which wasn’t the strangest thing he’d ever been threatened with. In any case, Emilio decided to ignore it. Let her show up at his apartment with cheese and a plan to use it against him. Nora would probably have fun scaring her off, anyway. Or Ren. Whichever one. 

He wasn’t sure if he believed her that the ‘yoohoo-slim jim’ combo was something he’d like or not; it seemed stupid to take any kind of culinary advice from a girl who’d just been bound and determined to drink dubious ‘cheese’ out of a recycled water bottle she’d gotten for free from a stranger in the woods, but who was Emilio to judge? He was hardly a culinary expert himself. If not for his client ensuring he knew better and the fact that his appetite had been a nonexistent thing since Mexico, he might have been the one taking cheese from strangers. He’d grown up taking his cues from Rhett, after all. The latter half of her statement had him scoffing in offense, however. “My opinion? You picked it up off the ground and put it to your mouth. That’s a fact.” He suspected she’d only been trying to prove a point at that stage of the conversation, but… The principle remained, he figured.

“Why would it be like the car?” He watched as she leaned down, tensing a little as if he half expected her to try to drink the cheese again. Instead, she tossed it into the trash. Emilio relaxed, letting out a small sigh. “Ecstatic,” he replied dryly. “Come on. Let’s go get you your slim-yim and joohoo or whatever.”

[normalooking]

I want to remember Fredson.

Brother and sister, Fredson and Greta were born Sept 20, 2014 -- just days after Pete died. Jokes were made that Pete could be reincarnated in Greta or Fredson; I don't think she was.

Greta turns ten in 4 days. She does not appear to miss Fredson one iota. She may be slightly more snuggly, but you won't hear me complain. I've been working on her for 9.5 years.

I adopted them March 5, 2015. They hid for the first couple days. Fredson, of course, was more social and curious. They did not meow. But Fredson would trill to me. I remember him sitting on one of the carriers that I'd left covered with a towel so that Greta could hide. He stared at me with those big green eyes and finally dared to sniff my hand.

Eventually, Fredson started meowing to me (Greta did not, not for a couple years, I think) and they both got brave enough to play with me. I had installed shelves for them but they didn't use them for a couple years. The kittens destroyed all my plants except the Big Mama peace lily.

Fredson seemed to be part Bengal, with his short, sleek fur and slim, muscular body and big, big eyes. He had very long legs and enjoyed running up and down the stairs. They got the zoomies every night. I finally bought a camera to watch them play at night (and spy on them while I was working in the office). They snuggled and napped together just about daily. Fredson kept himself very clean and soft. He would also go re-bury Greta's poops if she didn't do a good job.

For most of his life, Fredson wanted to be held all the time. If you sat down, you SHOULD be holding him or playing with him. He would walk right over Greta to force his way onto my chest, clawing my shoulders until I would support his weight, regardless of whether I was currently doing something or not. He would occasionally jump from the floor, aiming for my chest, if I didn't voluntarily pick him up first. Once in my arms, he squirmed and clawed and wiggled to find a position he liked. If I didn't pet him how he wanted, he would keep squirming and purring. At night, sometimes he could settle down and lie on me with his head right on my face. He would sit still for like 20 minutes like that if I didn't move, Greta didn't move, and there were no sounds from inside or outside the house.

Fredson refused to accept that he was not allowed in my bedroom. When I adopted these kittens, I taped a cardboard barrier all the way around my king size bed so that no kitten could get stuck under there. One time he got in my room and I didn't realize it, and I went to work. This was when I was at Lightspeed, so I probably didn't get home until 9pm or so. Fredson had chewed a Fredson-sized hole in the cardboard and was happily lounging under the bed, even though he'd been in there like 12 hours with no food and no potty breaks. I probably had to use a string toy to get him to come out.

I had to remove the dial on the heater at the bottom of my stairs because he enjoyed playing with it so much that the heat would sometimes just come on, even in summer. I left the paper stuffing from Chewy boxes at the bottom of the stairs, and Fredson loved to crinkle the paper, run and slide on it, build forts with it, and hide toys under it. That may have been the only time he played by himself.

For as much as he bullied Greta for the good shelf or the scratcher or the bed under my desk, he often would take turns when I played with them. He'd sit back and let Greta play with a toy for awhile, then decide it was his turn, and Greta would usually let him play instead.

Fredson had a ritual of slurping the bathroom sink faucet, front legs in the sink, back half on the counter. I got them a fountain so that this could be curtailed, but it made no difference. He also liked toilet water. He was so nosy when I took showers that I thought he might actually like water.

My heart always melted when he would clean Greta's ears. He kept his ears spotless and white, even up until the end. She would nod at him and make a licking motion, and he would come up and lick her ears gently, and she'd have her eyes squeezed shut in happiness.

Fredson changed while I was in eastern Oregon taking care of mom. My roommate Laura thought it was because of the time he got stuck on the roof and had to be rescued. She thought that was when he started overeating and sleeping so much. By the time I moved home a year ago, he was up to 14 pounds and drinking soooo much water, but didn't get the zoomies anymore. He was less interested in playing and got pushier about my attention. I can't stop thinking about how he was sick and in pain, so no wonder he was such a jerk the last two weeks of his life.

I want to remember the weekend morning snuggles with him in my arms and Greta nearby or leaning on my leg, listening to the radio, petting my kitties, and never wanting it to end. I want to remember winters watching tv on the sofa, with Greta on my knees and Freddy on my feet, keeping me warm. I want to remember his morning lectures in the kitchen while I got my coffee. I want to remember him leaning against my leg reassuringly, tail up like a shepard's hook. I want to remember him waiting impatiently for me to emerge from the bathroom every single morning. My little guy.

[lirabuswavi]

(Just gonna put this here, hope you don't mind the addition)

The next human Danny comes across is an old man in the kitchen. He had scurried away from the random office or whatever it was when he heard the whirring of an elevator (enhanced hearing for the win. Except for when it was overwhelming) and had followed the next source of noise. The old man seemed to be cooking dinner or a late night meal depending on whatever time it was. Danny was currently just a Little Guy, he really couldn't care less after having his nap.

The old man looked down at him. He looked up. They maintained eye contact. The old man raised an eyebrow. Danny flicked his tail. The other eyebrow rose up to join the first. "I see Master Damian has a new... companion," the, apparently British, man said. He also didn't get called a pet, good. He may just be a little guy who enjoys cardboard boxes and avoids higher thinking skills, but he wasn't a pet. "And when's the last time you've been fed, little one?"

Fed? Food? Danny wagged his little tail and gave his cutest expression. Widen the eyes, furrow his little brows just so, "Mrrp?" He asked, trying to convey his utter starvation and how he was just a little guy, had never ever been fed, he mostly ceartinly didn't eat before starting his vacation. British Guy simply nodded and turned to whatever heavenly smelling thing he had in his pot.

Danny pawed at British Guy. He wanted some! British Guy gave him another raised eyebrow. "I may be unfamiliar with your species, but the general rule is no hot chocolate before allergies are ascertained,"

Danny whined pathetically. He was just a little guy! And if it wasn't for him, then who was it for?

Traffic light kid, out of his traffic light uniform, came skidding into the kitchen.

"Pennyworth! Have you seen-" Green eyes locked onto him. "You!" Yes, him, who still wasn't being fed! The rest of the family(?) chose to burst in at that moment. Danny wanted a vacation, not whatever this is!

Danny had been planning this vacation for months, and Ancients did he plan to make the most of it. His friends and parents all agreed to keep Amity safe while he’s gone for the summer, and he had Clockwork to tell him when it was time to portal back home. As he floated towards a natural portal in the ghost zone (because it’s far more fun when the destination is a surprise), he began shifting his form. He had been dealing with so much both as a human and as a ghost. School, fights, teen drama, hunters— but not this summer! This summer, it’s going to be different! He won’t have to worry about human or ghost problems, because this summer, he’s not going to be either! He’s going to be…

A Little Creature™️.

He doesn’t use his “compact” form very often, since it dampens his powers and takes away his ability to talk. But, on this vacation, he won’t need his powers. He can just wander around an unknown dimension, steal some food, sleep in a cardboard box. If he actually needs to be human for something, he can switch back no problem. But honestly? It’s fun being a little guy, even if being a little guy does make him kinda stupid. (He got stuck in a cardboard tube the first time he went into his little form. He was stuck for half an hour. Didn’t even think to phase out of it. As soon as he was pulled out of the tube, he went right back in and got stuck again). Plus, he can stay in this form for an incredibly long time— he doesn’t even switch back when he’s hurt! (Which no, it was not fun to learn that, but good to know)

Shifting into his compact form, Danny slips through the portal and finds himself wading through a big pool of stuff that seems like ectoplasm, but slightly to the left. Like yeah, it’s technically ectoplasm, the same way a carton of milk set out in the sun for three days is technically milk. Not fun to play in, horrible to eat.

As Danny pulls himself out of the gross, bubbling “ectoplasm” pool, shaking himself off, he sees some sort of big fight going down. Bunch of people with swords, some big guy dressed as a bat, some kid dressed as a traffic light. He considers stepping in for a moment, but… no. This is his vacation. Not his dimension, not his problem. Just be a Little Creature™️. He sees a bat-shaped piece of metal at his feet. He knows exactly what a Little Creature™️ would do in this scenario.

He hits it.

Then he hits it again.

Then he hits it again, and again, and again and again and again and he grabs it and bites it and rolls around with it and tail slaps it and bites it and bites it and bites it and bites it and then he almost gets stepped on.

Danny looks up from his toy to see the kid dressed as a traffic light staring down at him. The kid tries to grab the toy away from Danny only to be met by the fierce batting of his little paws. The kid moves his hand close a couple more times, and each time he’s fought off valiantly by Danny’s little paw smacks. He’s not sure why the kid looks like he’s smiling when he’s so clearly losing this battle. The kid gets distracted by the guy in the bat costume calling out to him, and Danny takes this opportunity to continue biting the bat toy, rolling with it and biting it and batting it and biting it and why is he being carried away by the kid.

Danny looks around and sees that the kid is carrying him into a big plane being piloted by the guy in the bat suit. Then he’s shoved under the kid’s cape, and he doesn’t really see too much for a few minutes. He chirps at the kid, and is met with a soft yet quick “shhh!” He waits until he can feel the plane they’re in take off to peek out of the cape and look out the window.

He can see the large pool— though it’s more of a pit, now that he sees the whole thing— that he arrived through, as well as a bunch of people running away from it. Not sure why though, it’s just a bubbling—

Ah.

It blew up.

… Danny hides a bit further in the cape, clutching his bat toy a little tighter. He wound up in a very comfortable position, which made him just… a little sleepy…

Danny woke up wrapped in the cape, held by the kid, surrounded by a shocking number of people all yelling something about a “tiny pet pit demon.”

[reallyromealone]

I have a request if your not busy but imagine baby reader just minding his own business and in the back the Mizo middle crew are doing one of those documentaries where the guy is like “and here we see a wild animal in it’s natural habitat” and I can imagine them documenting everything baby reader does from napping, stealing cookies from the cookie jar, “talking” with some of the toman members to accidentally getting stuck in a giant cardboard box (bonus points if baby reader is wearing an animal onesie) and yeah if you do see this request do take your time and relax and you know have a cup of tea and eat a snack

Fuck yes

"And right here you can see the wild Hanagaki in his natural habitat" Makoto said as the Mizo mid crew hid behind a corner, recording the little babe who was in his brand new lion onsie that his brother got him.

(Name) was currently laying flat on his back napping, little foot kicking every so often as the teens recorded their project for class "the little cub needs plenty of rest before his hunt, the more energy the higher success of the hunt"

When little (name) woke up he let out a big yawn and stretch before getting himself off the ground with a slight stumble "and you see here, the wild beast is ready for his hunt, what will he find?"

Little (name) waddled into the kitchen and looked around before finding the cat themed cookie jar and bounced a little, dragging a chair to the counter so he could climb up and get his beloved snack.

"Ah yes, the wild Hanagakis one true meal...the chocolate chip cookie"

The day progressed slowly as they recorded little (name) going about his day, standing on Mikey's thighs as he chatted away happily and saying utter nonsense as the blond pretended to understand.

"And you see, we set up the ultimate Hanagaki trap, a box trap with some (snack) and a toy...and here comes the wild beast now"

(Name) waddled into the room and saw the trap, smiling as he went and crawled to the excellent array of items and plopped his butt down to eat only for the box to fall on him.

Letting out a shrill scream at the sudden darkness the Mizo mid crew got the hell out of there when Toman busted into the room to help little (name), not wanting to be at the business end of a majority of gangsters who were older brothers themselves.

They did get a B+ on their project though.

[134340am]

thank your lucky stars

levi ackerman x gn!reader, 0.6k words, cw food + sfw based on this headcanon that levi would ration out your chocolate stash 

“leviii.” his name falls from your lips in the form of a long, petulant whine, punctuated with a sigh and an insistent tug on his arm. “levi, darling. one more please. just one more and i won’t bother you again. pleeease.” 

“no, it’s bad for your teeth.”

“but it’s not like i’m going to eat the whole thing!”

“no.”

you sulk at his persistence, turning your back to him with a huff. behind you, levi makes no move to soothe your temper tantrum, keeping his eyes on the television.

you weren’t really mad at him—after all, getting levi to ration your chocolate stash was your own idea. unfortunately, having free access to all the candy in your apartment only meant instant demolition, and for the sake of your blood sugar level (and your own sanity), you’ve entrusted your lover with your sweets stash.

so technically, levi was just doing his job (albeit a bit too well, with the death grip he currently has on your box of strawberry chocolates), but that doesn’t stop you from sulking like there was no tomorrow.

on a typical day, you were more than happy to comply when levi steps in to take your treats away from you. today’s chocolates, however, were your absolute favourites – you were only allowed to have one single box of apollo strawberry chocolates at a time in your apartment because those little bicoloured morsels of goodness were your kryptonite; the smooth and creamy strawberry layer atop a ring of dark chocolate creating the perfect blend of sweet and bitter.

you hear a faint rustle behind you, then the distinct sound of the cardboard box popping open.

“stop sulking. you can have one last piece, but that’s it.” came levi’s stern voice. 

a flash of pink and brown appears in the corner of your vision, held delicately between long and dainty fingers. you couldn’t help the satisfied smile that pops up on your face almost immediately, and you turn to claim the little chocolate between your lips, but stop short of it. 

a quick inspection of the snack had your jaw dropping in surprise.

“levi, look! it’s a star!” you exclaimed, grabbing his hand to take a closer look at the chocolate. levi tilts his head in confusion, looking very much like a kitten that just woke up from a nap. 

he brings the sweet nearer to his face for closer inspection. hmmm. it is indeed star-shaped, its five smooth edges quite unlike the typical frilled edges of the chocolates left in the box.

“the odds of getting one is about one in a thousand,” you continued excitedly, cheeks bursting with a grin so bright it could rival the sun. “we’re so lucky! i can’t believe i almost ate it.”

“is there a prize for getting a star, then?” levi asks. 

“not really. just a placebo sense of good luck, i guess.”

your husband quirks a brow at that. “well, do you feel luckier?”

“kinda!” you beam, and levi feels his heart stir in his chest at the sight. 

“maybe we’ll see a rainbow later,” you continued, looking out your window at the cloudless blue sky. “or we’ll find a four leaf clover. hey levi, maybe the eczema on your arm will start clearing up.”

“you brat,” he scoffs dismissively, though he can’t quite fight the smile that pulls at his lips. your excitement was definitely contagious. “if it does, i’ll buy you another hundred boxes of this shit.”

though looking at the way you dip your head down to pluck the chocolate from his grasp, soft lips brushing delicately against his fingers and a satisfied smile gracing your face, levi can’t help but already feel a hundred, no, a million times luckier.

a/n: apollo strawberry chocolates are made by meiji, one of, if not the biggest manufacturer of dairy products, confectioneries, and other foods in japan. they're one of my fave snacks—not only are they irresistibly delicious, they're also adorable. <3 thank you for reading!

(masterlist)

(image cr. japancandystore.com)

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Deity!AU and Monster!AU Master-list

Hi there! So I figured I’d go ahead and get a bit of a head start on the master-list of posts for the asks and random things I end up writing for these two AUs so it’s easier for everyone to find posts they wanna read, along with links to whatever’s needed!

Here's a link to my AO3 account, where I will also post updates and fics there when completed!

-----------

==Monster!AU==

Rules (to be determined)

The blurb that started this AU (and thank you!)

Species List

Species Designs (Riddle, Trey, Kalim, Jamil, and Rook)

Grim Design (Deity AU and Monster AU)

Lilia Concept Design

Jade Land Form Concept Design

Jade and Floyd Sea Serpent Concept Design

Yuu booping the monsters thought

Fanworks

The fluffy boi~! :D (Kalim)

Monster AU Chaotic Shenanigans! :D

AU Questions:

What are the staff members?

Predator or prey species?

How do Overblots work?

How does the werebeast transformation work?

How do Ortho and Jade/Floyd/Azul work in this AU? Transformation potions discussion!

How tall are the monsters? How tall is Yuu/mini!Yuu?

What kinds of tests do the researchers do?

How do citrus smells affect monsters?

Can we get more information on the Shroud brothers?

How does PE work with Mini!Yuu?

Did the predator species ever eat the prey species in the past?

Trivia Facts and World Building:

How Yuu/Mini!Yuu arrived in Twisted Wonderland

Unicorn Monster/Vil Facts (includes art concept)

Cater's Human Magicam Page example

Riddle's Mom pushing Riddle to study Yuu

Yuu explaining humans chaotically

Yuu and Mini!Yuu humans are weird: mimicry

Monsters reacting to AFAB/Fem!Yuu on cycle (read disclaimer at beginning for tws!!)

First Year Cuddle Pile and Rating

Humans are Weird: Boredom/Googly Eye Chaos

Yuu/mini!Yuu when it comes to events

Comforting Grieving Yuu (tw death mention but mostly hurt/comfort)

What are the Great Seven? How are they perceived?

How does Vil perceive Yuu as a rarer species than his own?

Shenanigans: Laser Pointer

Mini!Yuu getting lost in the maze and Riddle creates more rules!

Human sneezes and Riddle the "fainting" faun!

Cheka and Mini!Yuu causing chaos and being cute!

What if Yuu has a dog with them?

The Monsters seeing Yuu as being adorable

Mini!Yuu being a human magpie

Yuu dealing with magical mishaps

Yuu's secret weapon: the spray bottle

More spray bottle silliness

Kalim accidentally sprays himself while fighting OB!Jamil

Nap time means cuddle time!

How to give monster!Grim a bath

Ancient human languages and human artifacts--silliness in the classroom!

Cute classroom thought with mini!Yuu

Monster!AU Anon thoughts: disabilities, language barriers, and mini!Yuu growing up in Twisted Wonderland

Mini!Yuu with cardboard tubes and monster in a box

Yuu discusses centaurs with Riddle: are they bugs? Discuss!

How would the boys react to Yuu with severe nausea/anxiety?

Rook teaches mini!Yuu to hold a bow and Savanaclaw decides to lock their doors

Mini!Yuu asks where babies come from and mistakes Crowley for a stork

What is Halloween like? Worldbuilding and ghosts!

Cater's Humans are Weird Magicam Posts:

Magicam Post Example

Yuu screams like a goat in class

Weird Human Behavior

Mini!Yuu Shenanigans

Bestiary Entries:

Heartslabyul

Savanaclaw

AU Fics:

Mini!Yuu communicating with a whistle and only Kalim understands them

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

==Deity!AU==

Here’s the rules and information for the Deity!AU:

Rules

AU Questions:

How are the deities with humanity?

Who is likely to visit fem!MC?

What is the Stardust River?

Does the deity!AU take place in modern time?

Is Ruggie the first deity Yuu meets?

Theory about Yuu's role in the AU

Trivia Facts and World Building:

Deity Trivia Facts 1

Deity Trivia Facts 2

Deity Trivia Facts 3 + Notes on Yuu/MC

Character List: Full deity or half-deity?

Deity Ask Event:

What would cause them to betray their favorite Yuu?

Deities:

Current List and what they are deities of

Faun's Daily Life with the Deities

Riddle:

What is he the god of? (mentioned)

Basic Headcanons

Trey:

Cater:

What is he the god of?

First appearance (includes art)

Ace:

Deuce:

Leona:

Seeking acknowledgement--scenario with female MC

What is he the deity of (clarification)

Ruggie:

Basic info

Ruggie Success Story--Mending Family Bonds

Jack:

Basic info

Azul:

Basic Headcanons

Jade:

What is he the god of?

Floyd:

Kalim:

How is he worshipped?

Jamil:

Has there been a time when they've felt hopeless?

Vil:

Rook:

Epel:

Idia:

What are they the deities of?

Halloween (mentioned/more lore)

Ortho:

What are they the deities of?

Halloween

Malleus:

Lilia:

Halloween Beginnings

Silver:

Sebek:

Farena:

Seeking acceptance--scenario (mentioned)

Grim:

Halloween Beginnings-first appearance

Riddle and Azul-What are they the deities of?

Che'nya:

Who is likely to visit fem!MC?

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

Of course I’ll update this as I go along and make sure that it’s easy to follow along with! If any of the links are broken or it gets really weird for some reason, please let me know so I can fix it right away!

Edit 3/23: Didn't realize that some of the links were duplicated on deities that weren't about them! Should be fixed now

[cacoetheswriting]

for you and i

Pairings: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Warnings: honestly just pure fluff, mild swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, implied smut (nothing graphic) Word Count: 2.2k Summary: A small collection of moments throughout reader’s and Spencer’s evolving relationship that features their song. A/N: this symbol ~~ signifies a time jump.

A/N: i finished my rewatch of bones last night (im hella emotional), and one of my favourite “running gags” from the show is hot blooded being booths and brennans song, and how the writers reminded us of that from season to season. it definitely definitely inspired me to write this. also i did this instead of working on my assignment as a birthday gift from me to me lmao ENJOY

-

The plane trip back home was completely silent.

Morgan and JJ were catching up on much needed sleep. Emily, lost in thought, observed the night sky through the small window. Rossi was reading, as Hotch worked his way through some case files.

Spencer sat next to you at the far end of the jet. You were listening to music while his nose was buried in a book. Although you could tell he couldn't really concentrate on the words as the page remained unturned for the last fifteen minutes.

“Why don’t you let your eyes rest for a minute?” You suggested, carefully taking out one earphone. “A short nap could be good for you. It doesn’t look like you’re retaining any information anyway.”

Spencer nodded slowly, agreeing with you. He shut the novel in his lap and tilted his head to look at you, his lips pursed into a thin shy smile. “You should get some sleep too Y/N.”

“I’m okay.” You replied. “Plus someone has to keep watch in case the jet gets abducted by aliens or something.” A sly grin appeared on your face as Spencer chuckled softly. He rested his head against the chair and gradually closed his eyes.

You watched him for a moment. Examining his perfect features. Your innocent crush growing by the second - something you would never admit out loud in fear it would ruin your friendship.

When you were about to place the earpiece back in your ear, his eyes shot back open. He sighed heavily.

"I actually don’t think I can.” Spencer said quietly and once again turned his attention to you. His gaze briefly landed on the phone in your hands before travelling up to your face. “Did you know that in addition to aiding relaxation and helping with falling asleep quicker as well as improving sleep quality, playing music before bed can improve sleep efficiency? Which means more time you are in bed is actually spent sleeping.” You raised a curious brow waiting for him to continue, but he just asked: “Can I ask what you are listening to?”.

Instead of answering his question, you wiped the dangling earphone against your blouse and handed it to him. He took it, a little hesitantly, and placed it in his ear - the two of you unconsciously shifting closer to one another.

You could tell by the expression on his face that he didn't know the song currently playing, nor did he particularly like it, but he didn't protest or ask you to skip it. In his eyes, you were kind enough to share your source of entertainment therefore he would never push to change what you were clearly enjoying.

The song ended, another began, and another, and another. Eventually Spencer closed his eyes again. The two of you continued to silently listen to the various songs on your playlist - a wild mix of different artists and genres, definitely showcasing your weird music taste.

Touch Me by The Doors began to play.

“I like this one.” Spencer muttered, eyes still closed. “I didn't peg you to be a rock fan.” You stated curiously. Spencer chuckled softly. “I wouldn't call myself a fan per se, this is just a very good song.” “This is actually my favourite song of theirs.” You proclaimed.

Sinking deeper in your seat, you quietly sang along. “What was that promise that you made?” To your pleasant surprise, the young doctor joined in. “Why won't you tell me what she said? What was that promise that you made?” 

Lost in the pure bliss of the moment, you gently rested your head against Spencer’s shoulder. His eyes fluttered open. He glanced down at you and smiled to himself. Yes. Yes, he could definitely get used to this.

~~

“Watch it!!!” You shouted and rudely gestured after the vehicle that overtook you out of nowhere, almost sliding right into your car. Frustrated, you ran your hands through your hair before placing them on the wheel again. A deep sigh escaping your lips in the process.

Spencer chuckled next to you. “Maybe next time I’ll drive.”

“Sorry.” You muttered, tone of your voice changing completely for a moment. “People are just so fucking stupid.” The groan was full of annoyance, and it only made the young doctor snicker louder.

“How about we turn on the radio?” Spencer suggested. “Cool you down a little since we have another hour drive ahead of us, and I would preferably like to get there in one piece.” He teased. You rolled your eyes at his comment, but didn’t protest.

Taking your silence as a yes, Spencer fumbled with the car radio.

‘Come on, come on, come on, come on Now touch me, babe’

Voice of Jim Morrison blared through the speakers. Instantly, your whole body loosened up. No longer feeling annoyed or angry. Driver’s rage dissipated. The frown circling your features was replaced by a happy smile.

‘Can't you see that I am not afraid?’

Stopping at a red light, you looked at Spencer who was lightly bopping his head to the beat of the music. His gentle curls bouncing with his every move.

“You know, the universe is telling us that this is our song now.” You noted. The young doctor met your gaze, and the grin present on his face made your heart skip a beat. A faint hit of nerves cascaded through your body as you anxiously waited for his response.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders slightly. “It’s a good song. The universe could have wished us a lot worse.”

As the light ahead turned green, and you were driving once again, the two of you burst into the chorus as loud as you possibly could: “Now, I'm going to love you! Till the heavens stop the rain!”.

~~

The bar was filled to the brim with people wanting to unwind after a long week of work. That included the BAU team.

“One more for the road!” Morgan exclaimed, jumping out of his seat. He motioned to Hotch for assistance and the two of them briskly walked off in the direction of the bar. “While they’re gone, I’m gonna hop to the loo.” Penelope chimed. “I’ll join you.” JJ spoke up and they hurried off.

Spencer sat beside you, shoulder pressed lightly to yours. He was sipping on the remainder of his drink and you were about to open your mouth to say something, engage him in conversation, when you heard it. The song. Your song.

Your head instantly snapped up at him and a mischievous grin spread on your face. By the time Spencer realised what was going on, you were up on your feet grabbing him by the arm, and pulling him onto the self-made dance floor.

You began to sway along to the music. The alcohol currently flowing through your veins definitely made you that much braver. It also gave Spencer the confidence boost he needed to join you with no objections.

Despite the questionable looks you were undoubtedly receiving, the two of you jumped around like kids. Singing the song out loud to one another. It was as if the world around you disappeared. Like you and Spencer were the only people left in the bar.

‘Till the stars fall from the sky’

And when the night concluded, when everyone said their goodbyes, Spencer continued to hum the melody of your song as he waited with you for the taxi. It was then you chose to make the first move - colliding your lips with his in a carefree kiss.

They were softer than you ever imagined. 

All at once, the attraction between you two and the tension that built up over the years burst. You grabbed onto his jacket pulling him even closer. Suddenly, the cold night air didn’t feel so cold anymore. It was hot, burning like a flame. Your body was on fire and so was his. 

Spencer’s long arms wrapped around you, trapping you in the fire. One of his hands moved lower down your back, while the other tightly gripped your hair. The sensation that he felt was unimaginable. He always imagined what you would taste like, although he never expected anything would happen. He imagined how your body would feel against his. How your lips taste. But this, this exceeded all expectations.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He said in a smoky voice after pulling away, his hands now holding your face. “That’s what I was going to say.” You managed to whisper before his lips landed on yours again. Your heart pounding hard inside your chest, it felt as if it was about to explode.

~~

Spencer huffed as he placed a heavy cardboard box down on the ground. He straightened himself, flattened down his crinkly t-shirt, and turned to you with a smile. “That’s the last of it.” He stated proudly, placing his hands on his hips.

“My hero.” You ambled towards him and pecked his lips. “Thank you.” His arms made their way around your waist, pulling you in close. He placed a tender kiss on your forehead before glancing around the room.

“I can’t believe we’re officially moved in together.”

“It’s been a longtime coming.”

“That it definitely has.” Spencer smiled kissing you. He let his arms fall and shuffled around to start unpacking. 

Having planned ahead, you removed a speaker from your handbag. You quickly set it up, connecting it to your phone, and pressed play to ease the process that would carry on into the night.

Starting with the kitchen, and the more fragile items, the two of you made your way through the new apartment. 

Hours passed. It was getting quite late as tiny yawns continuously escaped your lips. However, the hard work was paying off because space started to feel more and more like home.

You decided to finish up for the night - tomorrow was another day. Yawning, you leaned into the arms of your boyfriend. Spencer kissed the top of your head and began to sway you slowly from side to side.

Right on queue, the guitar intro you both recognised well began to play through the speakers. You smiled into his chest before breaking free from his embrace. 

‘Yeah! Come on, come on, come on, come on Now touch me, babe Can't you see that I am not afraid’

Sharing a knowing look, you both started to dance. Not wanting to disrupt any neighbours you both chose not to sing along like you usually did. Instead, you mouthed the words in sync as if you were competing in a lip-sync battle.

‘What was that promise that you made? Why won't you tell me what she said? What was that promise that you made?’

The two of you circled happily around one another. It wasn't long before the air guitars came into play. 

And as the song concluded, Spencer cupped your cheeks. “I love you.” He muttered, gazing deep into your eyes. “I love you too.” You replied smiling.

Without another word, Spencer’s lips crashed against yours. Both your heads tilting hungrily from side to side to vary pressure. Hearts hammering loudly. Your hands made their way up his muscled back as his hands traveled down your neck, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Why don’t we move this party to the bedroom?” He suggested, his face still only inches away from yours. You lifted your hand, and brushed some of his light curls away behind his ear. “I do believe I read somewhere that it is considered bad luck not to christen the bed on the first night of living together.” You stated giggling. 

Spencer raised an interested brow. “What else does the article say?”

“How about I just show you.” And like that, your lips were on his once again as he blindly led you to the bed.

~~

“And now ladies and gentlemen we would like to bring out our newlyweds, Dr. & Mrs. Reid, to dance their first dance as husband and wife. Let’s give them a hand.”

Spencer turned to you, that warm kindhearted smile you loved so much circling his lips. He offered you his hand. “Mrs. Reid.” You took it gladly. “Dr. Reid.”

He led you to the middle of the dance floor and swiftly wrapped one arm around your waist, holding you close, while the other hand intertwined itself with yours. Music started to play and the two of you swayed elegantly from side to side.

“I have a surprise for you.” Spencer whispered in your ear before briefly pulling apart and twirling you around. 

Suddenly the music stopped. Sounds of disappointment echoed through the watching crowd as you shot your husband a quizzical look.

A melody you knew all too well filled the space.

Your mouth parted slightly in shock as Spencer let his arm fall from your waist. He spun you around once again and began rhythmically banging his head to the beat of the song. You couldn't help but giggle at the sight before joining in.

Excited screams echoed through the crowd as they cheered on. Even though you heard them, you knew people were watching and documenting this moment, you felt as if there was no-one else around - déjà vu.

Spencer pressed his forehead lightly to yours, his hands cupping your cheeks. His lips twirled into a smile. A big smile that you reciprocated. Feeling as if you were on cloud nine, you looked deep into each others eyes and whole heartedly sang along with the song. Your song.

‘I'm going to love you Till the heavens stop the rain I'm going to love you Till the stars fall from the sky For you and I’

-

masterlist

[yoichichi]

HQ boys with a sick s/o HC

warning(s): none :)

a/n: my poor ❣️ anon is sick and these were inspired by our last convo, I hope you’re feeling better Angel 😭 please enjoy some hq dummies and how theyd treat a sick s/o :) <3

characters: Tsukishima, Hinata, Sugawara, Daichi, Noya, Aran, Kita, Bokuto, Kenma, Ushijima, & Aone

Tsukishima

He would act bothered at the fact you’re sick, cause of course you’re gonna ask your boyfriend for things - like any notes you might’ve missed that day. But judging how he just does your homework for you you’re pretty sure he’s not actually mad.

He’d also be bugging you about taking your medicine cause he needs you to get better fast so he isn’t “stuck bullying only Hinata”, he misses picking on you too and he says it’s funner in person

He’s kind of worried about getting sick himself so he wouldn’t see you in person much but you definitely notice how frequent he’s starting to call you, he even FaceTimed you while he was at the grocery store cause you weren’t there with him to pick out your snacks. (He knows your favs at this point, he just missed your company)

The moment you’re better and he has a chance to see you he’s a bit more physically affectionate than normal - not that either of you are complaining - he missed you very much :(

Daichi

His hearts in the right place - like he’s brought some cough drops and water and such and has this whole plan for you to get better but the moment you sneeze a little too hard he’s so :((((( and just wants to hold you and coddle you.

So he does exactly that.

It can be a bit overbearing at first cause he’s VERY adamant on you not doing thing, like he’s debating on whether or not you should even be allowed to walk to the bathroom and if he should be carrying you there instead.

Rather than catch you up on anything you missed (he’ll bother suga about it later) he’d prefers snuggling in and napping the day away with you and just hopes you’ll magically get better.

Hinata

The overly worried type who’s also somehow simultaneously oblivious.

He’s CONSTANTLY checking in like are you better yet? Can you stand? Have you been throwing up all day? Is your temp still too high?? Please call me if you need anything :((((

But then he comes over with his volleyball and is all raring to go on some walk with you cause he found this awesome little trail that has some cute clearing he thinks you’d love but he seems to have forgotten you’re kind of currently bedridden.

You tell him and almost feel bad cause you can see the disappointment on his face and the way his body kind of deflates, but then all of a sudden he’s cheering back up cause he realizes that means he gets to lay with you basically all day and love up on you (regardless of your protests telling him he’d get sick too - which he definitely does)

Sugawara

I hope you wanted some tough love :(

Don’t get me wrong, he’s all about taking care of his baby but don’t think you’re gonna be milking any extra pity out of him 😭

He’s bringing you all the right medicine and extra love and any snacks you need, but he’s also bringing any schoolwork you might be missing and he’s reminding you of those deadlines.

He makes up for it with the extra study guides he made you so you can understand the material easier, and the cute little drawings he puts in the margins to better explain the material

He feels awful for his sick baby but isn’t gonna let you fall behind <3

Noya

Really believes in the whole laughter is the best medicine type shit. He’d also be looking up all different kinds of ways to make you better if he felt like you weren’t having a speedy recovery AHSJSJAJS

“I don’t know babe I’m jus sayin, this here says that if you drink raw egg whites and vinegar it’s a good immune system boost and will cure your flu in, like, 15 minutes. It might be worth a shot!”

Baby boy just misses going on dates with you 😭

Also tends to go overboard sometimes with the movies - last time you were sick he brought a whole cardboard box full of random dvds he had lying around as well as a couple of home videos of him as a child ‘cause:

“I’m hilarious babe look at these!”

Aran

Literally one of the best boyfriends you could ask for in this situation are you joking? He never hovers too much but is always just a phone call away if you need some help or are just feeling too lonely :( KING of making soups are you joking (firm believer that warm foods are the best thing when you’re ill) he definitely texts you random things throughout the day like

“how’s my baby doing?”

Or

“u feeling ok enough for me to stop by later ?❤️”

Expect LOTS of forehead kisses too

Also tends to hold the back of his hands to your face a lot so he can check your temp throughout the day, a true caregiver :,(

Kita

Ok him and Aran are tied cause this man 😪

The moment he finds out you’re sick he’s gotta know what kind of bug you caught cause he will be bringing you medicine the moment he can and he needs to be sure he’s getting the right kind. Also the type to buy you some silly little card that his grandmother INSISTED on signing (she’s very worried about you) and who is he to say no to that.

He also would hate to admit this to you but he thinks you’re so cute when you’re sick 😭 it doesn’t matter if you’re hacking up yesterday’s lunch he’s like 🥺🤲🏼 my poor little baby

He also just really likes taking care of you, definitely fits into his love language and it just feels very domestic for him to be by your side and aiding you in any way you can, and this mf is the biggest fan of the domestic things in your relationship <3

Bokuto

Honestly a little excited cause he gets to spend some uninterrupted alone time with you

Like don’t get me wrong he’s sad your sick but he can’t help but think to himself omg I get to spend the whole day with my baby! Just me and them!

Really helpful though, like you almost forget you’re sick. He’s making you food if you can’t do it yourself and he’s making sure you’re taking your medicine at the right times all while just chilling and talking with you in between! You guys watch some awful movies and laugh at them and it almost feels like a good ol date night in with your boyfriend if your body wasn’t so fatigued and sore from being sick. But don’t worry, cause Bokuto is there and ready to rub those sore muscles at any given moment.

Kenma

He just kind of shows up? Unannounced?

He has a weeks worth of stuff packed as well as a game console and a sack full of games LMAO and he just sets them down and gives you a kiss on the forehead and just ,, starts,, unpacking. You have to ask him what he’s doing cause he’s just not saying anything.

“You’re sick, so I’m staying over to take care of you until you feel better, duh. Now which side of the bed do you prefer?”

This man is casually waiting on your every need like your thirsty? Lay tf down he’s getting it for you. Hungry? Funny, he already ordered in. You’re his mf princess and you’re sick so you will not be moving a muscle.

Ushijima

MASSAGES. Massages. And cuddles :(((

Big man Ushi comes over when he has the chance with some painkillers and his big warm arms. Most of the time he’s over you guys are just napping cause he wants to hold you! Cause you look so helpless and sick and of course you guys are laying down so you guys just kind of pass out.

Also a big check in texter to see if you’re feeling up for him to be over later that day.

If you are too worried about getting him sick he’ll stay home but he’ll be kind of grumpy about it. You’d get a random FaceTime from him just for him to move his phone away from his body enough to emphasize how empty his bed is 🙄

You cave and let him come over, and when he does he just huffs and crawls into bed with you like ☹️ c’mere

Aone

Omg the biggest worrier of all of them :((((

The one most likely to say he’s sick too so he can free any responsibilities of the day just so he can come take care of you in person. Something about the idea of you being home alone and sick with no one there to make sure you’re ok hurts his heart so bad.

He also would forget to let you know he’s coming over though, so when he comes into your apartment with his copy of the key and finds you under a heap of covers with a tissue box on your nightstand he’s quickly getting under the covers with you and pulling you into his chest.

You wake up an hour or two later to feel big warm arms embracing you and you know your sweet boyfriend came over just to check on you. And judging by his heavy breaths signaling he was asleep you knew he had to have been here for a while <3

———————

ugh it’s been too long since I’ve written for hq! I hope you guys enjoyed and I always love to hear your thoughts :) <3

requests are open

-🐇out

taglist: @plutowrites @sweet-darling91 (if you’d like to be added to hq, aot, mha, or a combination of those lemme know!)

[rodeoxqueen]

Stuck Thinking About You-Dante/Reader

TheLastCrusader Requested: Dante or Vergil gets immobilized in some embarrassing or inconvenient way during a job and then (Y/N) pays them company until they can be freed. How about they have a crush on (Y/N) and they don't know it is returned until the end?

Vergil’s Part: Coming Soon. 

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28187496

Warnings: Fluff, Romantic Comedy, Taking Care of The Twins, Vulnerability, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Characters Call Out The Writer for Her Lazy Writing

Dante was the Legendary Devil Hunter, a tried and true hunter with the might of hundreds of men. And here he was, paralyzed by a venomous demon. During a hunt, it had a lucky shot and hit him with a dart. It would have killed a normal man three times over, causing the victim to lose muscle function and die. Since Dante was not a normal man, his body would metabolize the poison in due time. It’s just too bad he was stuck in his current form, arms to his side and stiff. He was lucky to be able to talk anyway. 

Nero had laughed at his predicament and dragged him back to the van by the boots, throwing him onto the spare seat like a sack of potatoes. His brother had smugly walked alongside his son, entertained by how Dante complained about his now immobilized situation. 

“Laugh it up. When I can move again, I’ll be kicking your asses.” Dante threatened, face down on the cushion with his sword strapped to his back. He sounded muffled and Nero laughed at him again. 

“Wait until (Y/N) found out you got shot in the butt by a demon.” Nero jeered. Dante groaned. 

Oh God forbid you found out, his crush. The gorgeous and funny (Y/N). He’d be a laughingstock. 

You had been working on the Devil May Cry paperwork when the red devil was carried in looking like a cardboard cut out of himself. The red devil was incredibly displeased and had a sour look on his face. 

Nero and Vergil dropped him onto a couch, dusting themselves off and high-fiving. 

“What happened to Dante?” You ask, seeing how Dante was unnaturally still. 

“My brother was unluckily poisoned. The toxins shall wear off soon, although he will be stuck like this for the meanwhile.” 

You see Dante attempt to move with his grunts and groans, yet to no avail. 

“Yeah, he’s gonna have to wait for it to wear off. You should’ve seen him, he gets jabbed and he just drops like a dead body!” Nero wiped a tear of laughter off his face. 

“Anyways, I gotta go back to Fortuna. Call me when he’s back to normal.” Vergil nodded as his son left the door. 

He turned his gaze to you. 

“I am going to retire to my room. Please let me know when he can move again.” He said as he exited the first floor. 

You put your hands on your hips seeing the devil still face down on the couch. 

“Um..Dante?” 

“Yeah?” He said, slightly muted by the cushion. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Can’t move. Stuck.” 

“..Do you want some help?” 

“Nah, I’m alright.” 

“Well, are you sure?” 

“Yeah, don’t worry about me. I’m fine.” 

There was a pause. You could hear Dante trying to breathe with the leather of the couch right up on his nose. 

“Would you like to be face up?” 

Dante stopped for a moment. 

“Yes.” You grinned, getting up from your seat to help out the red devil. Rolling up the sleeves of your sweater, you began by pulling on his side at the innermost of the sofa. You grunted as you put all your might on him. 

He was literally built like a brick house, and he sure as hell weighed like one. You broke a sweat getting him to be perpendicular to the couch before gravity helped out and you tipped him over. He fell back on the couch with a resounding thump. 

“Thanks (Y/N).” He flashed his charming grin, a bit of a struggle as his face muscles were slightly numb.  

You smiled at him. You saw how his veins were slightly darker, and he was quite pale. His body must be working overtime to detox itself. 

“Do you want anything while you’re trapped like this?” He made an effort to try to shrug. 

“I’m good.” Dante was not good. He was freaking out. You were used to touching him, punching him when he said a joke too cheesy, and those grazing touches he’d freak out internally over. You had such nice hands. His side where you pulled him up had tingled. 

You made your way back to the desk, Dante’s eyes on your rear. 

You went back to work, typing up reports, and examining payments from clients. Music played from your headphones, leaving Dante in silence. 

The sounds of you typing, scratching down notes on a notebook, and humming lull him to sleep. Maybe when he wakes up, he’ll be up and running again. 

You were half an hour into your work when you heard snores. Looking up, you see that the younger Sparda twin was fast asleep, probably sleeping off the toxins. An endeared smile crept up your face, seeing how at peace he was. 

Dante was an attractive guy, he was nice and funny. He seemed to always want to hang out with you and make you laugh. What a nice half-demon who was your boss. 

The veins around his neck seemed to pulse, forcing the blood to withdraw the demonic toxins within it. 

You admired the white-haired male, before going back to the papers. 

Dante woke up a few hours later. 

He tried to stretch, only to find his limbs were still stuck to his sides. 

“Ah shit.” He mumbled, yawning. His jaw popped in several places and he tried turning his head to see you. 

You answered the phone tucked by your ear as you rapidly typed out more reports. 

Once you had hung up the phone, you saw that the sleeping man had awakened. 

“Hey, Dante. You’re up. How are you feeling?” Dante sighed.

“Still can’t move.” You frowned. Even with his metabolism? 

“Aw, that sucks.” 

“Is that all my paperwork?” Dante asked, seeing the mountain of papers on the table. You slapped the yellowed papers. 

“This bad boy can fit so many missing payments.” You joked, quoting a car commercial you saw. Dante rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, let’s all make fun of Dante.” He said. 

You went back to check a few things. Dante peered at the clock. Crap, he always forgets to fix that clock. It’s been 4 o’clock for three months now. 

Dante coughed. He hadn’t had a sip of anything for hours now and napping always made him wake up with a desert-dry throat. He also wanted to rub his eyes but once again, can’t move. 

There was a knock on the door. You grabbed your wallet and got to the door. An amazing smell hit Dante’s nose. 

You came back into his line of sight when you came back with a plastic bag

“You hungry?” You asked, opening the box of pizza you had ordered. You hummed with approval when you saw no olives. 

“Meh, not really.” 

Just when Dante wanted to be low-key, his stomach made the loudest noise. It was like a damn whale call. Mind you, he was starving after his nap. He flushed with embarrassment but tried to play it off. 

You laughed. You made your way over to Dante. 

“It’s fine, I got enough for the two of us.” Setting the pizza box on the ground, you sat next to his still paralyzed form. 

“Oh man, you totally didn’t have to-” His stomach made a louder noise at the amplified smell of baked goods. 

You laughed at his expression. 

“It’s not like I can just move and take a slice right now.” He groaned. His eyes widened when you held up a fork of sliced pizza. You absolute angel. 

“I know.” You winked. 

“Now say ah..” You teased. He smirked, opening his mouth to be fed. 

Dante felt the warm cheesy culinary creation hit his tastebuds. He reveled in the lack of olives, something he always got on his slices whenever he ordered. 

You helped yourself to your own slices between feeding Dante. 

He swallowed wrong, and coughed. He had already hid his dry throat from you, not wanting to be needy. He continued coughing like a madman. A straw hit his lip and he simply sipped it, doing whatever he could to counter his fit. 

The familiar sweetness of cola soothed him and he let out a small burp.

“My bad.” He smiled as you laughed. His eyes darted to the can of soda you put back on the floor. Holy shit. You were drinking out of that. You gave him your straw. You were cool sharing drinks with him. That was an indirect kiss. Dante was ready to implode. Before you could notice his shock, he quickly made a diversion. 

“Where did you order this? It’s a lot better than the place I order at.” He asked after another forkful. You shrugged. 

“It was this new place that recently opened up. It’s close where I live. Thought I’d spice things up a bit and pick a new joint.” 

“Have you been there before?” 

You shook your head no. 

“Yeah, I haven’t. This was my first time ordering there.” Maybe next time Dante could take you there. 

“Feeling bold aren’t we?” You asked smugly at his mumbled sentence. Shit. He did not mean to say that out loud. 

“Uh. Yeah. I am.” He sputtered. You chuckled at the devil’s sudden bashfulnes. 

Dante wished he knew when to shut up. This was one of the times he wished he could. 

“Yeah. I like you a lot. You’re really nice to me, you’re real good looking too. This is totally not how I wanted to ask you out but here I am. This is really awkward for me. You can totally say no. I’m not going to be mad. I’m also your boss so that might be weird-” 

“Tell you what-” You quickly gave him another piece of pizza. 

“Once you can move again, I’ll take you on that offer.” You winked. Dante almost choked again. 

“I like you too, if you haven’t noticed.” You added, looking away for a moment. 

He laughed. You angel. 

Once the slices were cleared and the drink finished, you cleaned up. Dante saw through the window a completely dark night. 

“Whoa. It’s super late. Are you sure you want to go out that late?” Dante asked, genuinely worried. 

You shrugged. 

“I mean, it’s not too bad. I don’t live that far-” 

“I can teleport you home.” Vergil called from the stairs. The older twin came down with his book in hand. 

“Oh Vergil. Nice to see you again. I saved you a couple slices of pizza.” You pointed to the box that lied on Dante’s desk. 

“No need. Although the gesture was very kind of you.” Vergil quickly took out the Yamato, slashing through dimensions.

“Well this is oddly convenient plot-wise. Totally lazy writing. The writer definitely gave up with the conclusion. This is outrageously well-timed.” You said, hands on your hips. Vergil gave you a look.

“What?” 

“What.” 

“Anyways. I’ll see you soon. Call me when you’re back to normal.” You say to Dante. He winks at you and makes a click noise with his mouth. He’d do the finger guns too but again, he can’t freaking move. 

You left promptly, waving at Dante and thanking Vergil. 

The older twin turns around to see his shameless brother. 

“So, how long were you upstairs waiting for her to leave?” 

“Too long. I’m surprised she took overtime just to take care of your sorry self.” 

“I’m the one with a hot date, Mr. I Got Laid Once.” 

His brother scowled. 

“If it were not for the fact that you are not a fair match in your current condition, I would have slaughtered you by now.” The Yamato was pointed in his direction and Dante blew a raspberry at him. 

“Whatever.” 

“I’m going to bed. You can stay on the couch, you dolt.” Vergil snipped, going back up the stairs. The lights were shut off, leaving Dante in darkness. 

Dante smirked, closing his eyes. He can’t wait to wake up tomorrow and plan out a date with you.

[thatsamericano]

Confidant by Accident

Pairings/Characters: America/Romano, Lithuania POV.

Ratings/Warnings: Teen, only for cursing. No warnings other than mild angst.

Word Count: 1838

Summary: After America rejects Romano’s offer of leftover lasagna in favor of a chocolate bar, Romano needs to vent to someone. Lithuania ends up being the perfect sounding board.

A/N: Takes place right after this week’s episode/Chapter 72 of Hetalia World Stars. Will be up on AO3 soon.

Lithuania was too busy helping America move heavy cardboard boxes to say anything when Romano appeared in the doorway. He could only glance over as he was setting down a box and wonder why Savino wouldn’t just walk into the room instead of barely letting his head peek in through the doorway. He was acting shy, which wasn’t like him at all.

But then it started to make sense. Savino was worried about Alfred working too much, though he hid his concern by bragging about his two-hour lunch break. (Which was frankly excessive, in Tolys’s opinion. Not that anyone had asked him.) When America admitted he hadn’t really sat down for lunch in a long time, Romano offered him homemade lasagna. Making that particular meal took a while, and Lithuania was a little surprised Romano would spontaneously offer it to America. Even if it was leftovers that he couldn’t finish himself.

America was surprised too, and Romano misinterpreted his reaction. By this time, Tolys was moving another box, but he didn’t have to see Savino’s face to hear how his voice got quieter and how he almost sounded hurt, as if America had rejected something more important than leftovers. Lithuania frowned as he set the box down and glanced back and forth between them.

Alfred thanked Savino for his offer, but he didn’t seem to pick up on how bothered Savino was. It wasn’t out of any ill intent. Tolys had been living with Alfred with a while, and if he had learned one thing about his employer, it was that he often seemed to miss the social intricacies that seemed so clear to others, especially when he was focused on something else.

Right now, he was focused on brandishing a chocolate bar. He pulled the chocolate bar seemingly out of nowhere, winked, then chomped into it in a way that was strangely… flirtatious? It was almost like he was trying to impress Savino, either with the mere fact he had a chocolate bar or the overdramatic way that he ate it. Lithuania didn’t understand how either of those things could be impressive, but it seemed to be working on Romano.

Savino was enraptured by Alfred’s odd display. His eyes were wide, his lips were parted, and, most tellingly of all, a reddish blush formed on his cheeks. But by the time America was looking at him again, Romano’s mask was back in place. He smiled weakly at America as he left the room, and once he was gone, America sighed fondly.

“Vinny worries way too much, doesn’t he?” He went back to his “multi-tasking,” which was clearly just trying to do too much at once. Currently it involved talking on the phone, doing paperwork, and attempting to eat a chocolate bar all at the same time.

Lithuania continued the single task America had assigned him. He grunted as he lifted a particularly hefty box. “About you especially.”

Alfred hummed in agreement, and Tolys caught a glimpse of his face as he passed by with the box. America’s expression was inexplicable but not something Lithuania had never seen before. Despite the person currently berating him on the phone and the mountain of paperwork he had to complete, Alfred seemed almost blissful. He’d seemed blissful a few weeks ago, on a much slower day, when Lithuania had caught him sitting next to the couch, where Romano was taking his customary afternoon nap. His hand was inching towards Romano’s hair, but when he heard Lithuania’s footsteps, America whirled around with a panicked expression on his face and insisted that he’d only been checking to make sure Savino was breathing, since he’d gone awfully still for a second. He wasn’t watching Savino sleep or considering playing with his hair, because that would’ve been creepy and weird, and Alfred wasn’t a creepy weirdo, okay, Tolys?

Back then, all Tolys had been able to do was nod even if he knew Alfred had been lying. Now, all he could do was puzzle over America’s odd behavior as he kept helping him move boxes.

Tolys stretched his stiff, aching muscles after he’d placed the last box. “I’m done moving the boxes, Al.”

“Really? Thank you, that was very helpful.” America was working his way through a large stack of paperwork, but he managed to look up and give Lithuania a sincere smile. “You can take a break for a while now if you want. You’ve earned it.”

“What about you?”

The phone rang again, and Alfred shrugged before he picked it up and answered with a cheerful voice that belied how exhausted he must truly be. Lithuania knew America couldn’t be convinced, so he left the room and made his way towards the kitchen.

Romano was at the stove, scraping lasagna out of the pan and muttering to himself. When he got closer, he could hear that he was ranting about America. “Fucking idiot, won’t even let me take care of him. Then he has the nerve to wink at me and eat his mass-produced, shitty chocolate, which is not even half as nutritious as my lasagna.”

Lithuania grimaced. “Hey, Romano.”

“Hey.” Savino cast him a tired glance. “You want something?”

“I, uh, know I wasn’t the person you actually offered leftovers, but I think America’s gonna be chained to his desk all day. I figured you wouldn’t want all that food to go to waste.”

Savino snorted. “There’s enough here for two Americas. Get yourself something to drink, and I’ll fix you a normal-sized plate.”

“Thanks.” Lithuania poured himself a glass of wine, which was what Romano usually took with his lunch, and yawned. “Man, I’m beat.”

“You guys have been really busy today, huh?”

Lithuania smiled faintly at the tinge of concern in Romano’s voice. “Yeah. Alfred’s been way more swamped than me. He can’t even end a phone call without someone else calling him five seconds later.”

“He should have put me on the phone, so I could tell them to fuck off and leave him alone.” Romano got a fork out of the drawer, set it on the plate, and handed the lasagna to Lithuania.

Lithuania chuckled as he walked towards the kitchen table with his glass and plate. Romano followed him. “I don’t think that would lead to good business relations,” he teased.

Romano huffed in annoyance. “It might lead that idiota to eat an actual goddamn lunch for once in his life. He can’t subsist on fumes and chocolate bars forever.” Lithuania sat down at the table, and Romano sat across from him.

He took a bite, chewed it slowly, then swallowed. “Romano, Alfred… he wasn’t trying to insult you. He loves your food. I’m sure, if he wasn’t so busy—”

“That’s not the fucking problem, okay?”

“Okay.” Tolys knew that, especially with Savino, sometimes it was better not to push. Forcing the issue would only make him more defensive. For the next several minutes, he only heard the scrape of his fork across the plate, his own chewing, and wine sloshing in the glass as he sipped it between bites. The silence was awkward, but Lithuania could endure it.

Eventually, Savino broke. He put his elbows on the table, gripped his hair in his fists, and started talking. “Sometimes, Fredo frustrates the hell out of me. I can’t hate him, but I hate the shit he does.”

Obviously, he didn’t hate Alfred if he was giving him a nickname and offering him leftover lasagna, but Lithuania wasn’t tactless enough to point that particular absurdity out. He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “What does Alfred do that bothers you?”

“It’s what he doesn’t do. He looks at me, but he never really sees me. Ever. I’m around the guy practically 24/7, and somehow he’s too oblivious to pick up on the fact I fucking—” Romano paused, then shot Lithuania a look that communicated everything his fear refused to let him voice out loud. “That I care about him.”

Lithuania thought over everything that had happened today, and everything else he’d noticed since Romano moved into America’s house. “I think Alfred cares about you. But sometimes, he cares about you so much that he can’t see you caring about him too. Like today, with the chocolate bar. He would’ve probably preferred the lasagna, but he had something else to eat, and he didn’t want to make you go out of your way for him.” Or the fact that in his own clumsy, bizarre way, Alfred had been trying to flirt with Savino when he winked at him and bit into that chocolate bar. The fond gleam in America’s eyes as soon as Romano left the room, that was often there when Savino wasn’t looking directly at him. The way Alfred instinctively pulled Savino closer if they were walking through a dark, narrow street after spending the evening at a speakeasy. The fact that he would’ve sat beside the couch, gently running his fingers through Savino’s hair and watching him sleep if Tolys hadn’t walked into the living room at the exact wrong moment.

Care didn’t cover how America felt, and even love, that word Romano refused to say, paled in comparison. Devotion was the closest term, and it was growing steadily every day. But that devotion was concealed and unspoken, and it wasn’t Lithuania’s place to say anything for America. Even if today had made it abundantly clear that Savino reciprocated those feelings, despite his occasionally prickly demeanor.

Gradually, Romano loosened his grip on his hair. He put his hands down in front of the table and sighed.

“Why the hell did he whip out the chocolate bar, bite it, and pose afterwards? Showy asshole.” Romano was blushing again and avoiding Lithuania’s eyes, but he didn’t seem quite as troubled as before. He didn’t sound particularly irritated either.

Tolys shrugged. “You’d have to ask him. I can’t read Alfred’s mind.” He could put the clues together, and the clues all added up to one conclusion. But that conclusion, inconveniently, wasn’t his secret to share.

Lithuania finished his meal, and he carried his empty plate, fork, and wine glass to the sink. “Thanks for fixing lasagna for lunch. It was delicious, and it was a nice thing for you to do.”

Romano had gotten up at the same time he had, and now, he was standing near the broom he’d left by the pantry door. “Thanks for talking to me about stuff,” he said quietly. Savino was clearly embarrassed by their conversation, and by what he’d nearly confessed. Lithuania knew he couldn’t make a big deal out of it. Forcing the issue would only make things worse, not better.

“No problem.”

Savino smiled genuinely, if not joyfully, when he carried his broom out of the room to sweep elsewhere. Tolys cleaned the dishes and fork he’d used, and he resolved to put this matter out of his mind until Savino (or perhaps Alfred, at some point in the future) needed him to be a confidant once again.