#i should probably make up a writing tag at some point to tag this later

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Dog Tags (3)

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> When a mission goes wrong, Bucky gets his Dog Tags back.

Disclaimer: This is part three for one and two. Mentions of serious injuries, blood and being hospitalised. Angst, bit of fluff here and there, hurt/comfort, Bucky stays by reader's side. Sam giving Bucky his own reality check, platonic!Wanda, swearing. Left kinda open ended in case I decide to write part four? Not Proof Read.

Bucky stared down at the dog tags in his hands, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the blood stained letters. He had to take a deep breath before the tears started flowing again. 

You were meant to be on a simple recon mission. You’d done them a thousand times. Maybe you’d come back with a bruise or two, but you still came back. 

This time, his phone had rung throughout his room just as the clock turned 4:00 am. An agent had found the tags on her person. They knew they weren’t hers, but they were definitely someone’s. 

Bucky had gotten to the hospital in under an hour. You’d still been in surgery by the time he arrived, but the nurses had brought out your personal belongings in a large plastic bag. 

Your clothes; blood stained to hell. Your Shield issued weapons were empty of bullets. Whatever had happened, you’d emptied your clip, plus your three backups. Your knife lay at the bottom of the bag, stained with blood, too. 

Bucky couldn’t work out if it was yours or someone else's. But he did know one thing for certain. The blood that lay splattered over his tags, as he pulled the chain from the bag, was yours. You never wore them outside of your uniform. You kept them close to your chest. It couldn’t be anyone else's. 

Bucky had left a message at Hill’s desk, as well with Sam explaining what had happened. What he knew, at least. Hill was sending someone to the mission base to find out more. 

“Mr Barnes?”

Bucky took in a deep breath as he stood up, clasping the tags in his palm. Maybe if he squeezed tightly enough, he’d be able to feel you. 

“Yes.”

“Your wife is now out of surgery. We’ll be keeping her under observation for the foreseeable, but once she’s situated in a room, you’ll be able to sit with her.” The Doctor told him. 

Bucky just nodded. “Do you know what happened?”

“I know it’s not common, but I’ll bring you her more detailed medical chart.” They told him. “There was too much extensive damage to talk about off the top of my head.”

Those words hit Bucky in the chest, harder than anything else had ever done. 

“But she’ll-” Bucky couldn’t bring himself to talk. 

The Doctor just nodded. “She’s going to need a lot of physical therapy. Thankfully nothing broke within her legs, but the damage to her muscles will make her training a lot harder than it should be for a while.”

Bucky nodded. 

“But she’ll be okay.”

“Thank you.”

The Doctor nodded. “Thank you for the tags.”

Bucky was a little confused as he followed the doctor’s finger, pointing to his hand. The dog tags? Why was she thanking him for the dog tags?

“If your wife hadn’t been wearing them, we wouldn’t have known who to contact.”

Wife.

Bucky felt himself chuckle inside. If you were awake and could hear the doctor now, you’d have probably made some disgusted eye roll and comment over being even associated with him. 

“Oh, yeah.”

The Doctor smiled. “I’ll come and get you when she’s ready.”

“Thank you.”

She just nodded with another soft smile before walking away. Twenty minutes later, he was being walked down the hallway where he stood outside of your room for ten minutes before opening up the door. 

You had at least a dozen wires hooked up to you, aside from the standard hospital gear. Bucky just stared at the monitor for a while, watching your heartbeat print onto paper. 

Eventually, he sat in the chair beside your bed and looked at you. In that moment, he’d give anything to have you yell at him. Cuss him out, threaten him, roll your eyes…anything. 

“They…” Bucky cleared his throat, looking down at the tags in his hand. “They told me you should still be able to hear me…and that talking helps. I know you’re probably mad it’s me who’s here, but you can’t blame me for this one, doll.” 

A weak chuckle escaped Bucky’s lips as he looked from his hand and to your sleeping frame. “They think we’re married, by the way. Mostly because of the dog tags they found on you. I’ve…I’ve got em’ right here. They’re safe. You’re safe, doll. Just…just kinda need you to wake up soon. Maybe tell me to piss off. Not that I’d leave you anyway, but that’s kinda our thing, right? Fighting?”

Bucky went silent for a while as he looked at you. 

“I need you to fight me, sweetheart.” Bucky told you. “So you’ve gotta mend and pull through all of this. Whatever happened out there in the field…that’s not the end of your story. It can’t be. I won’t let it.”

Bucky could hear your voice in his head. “You’d don’t have a choice in it, Barnes.”. 

Bucky told you a few more things, like how he’d called both Hill and Sam. He told you that he’d text Wanda, “She’ll get it once she lands. I’m sure she’ll be flying through that window soon.”

But, eventually, he stopped talking. He just let the sound of your steady heart fill the room. It was proof you were still alive. You were still here. 

On the days where Bucky couldn’t sit with you, Wanda took his place. Or Kate. Or Sam. On the odd occasion, Joaquin sat with you. Bucky had walked in on plenty of PowerPoint presentations of how his suit was better than Sam’s old one. 

But when he did sit with you, his mind would wander to memories of you and him. Like the training room when he’d told you he knew you had his dog tags, or when he’d helped you when you got hurt a few months back. 

But one stuck out to him in particular. Plenty stuck out to him as time ticked by, but he was reminded of this one as he looked at the side table beside your bed. Your knife lay on top, still in its protective covering. 

Less than three weeks before you’d landed in hospital, Bucky had been training with you. 

The main noises being made were grunts. As you hit his chest, as he knocked your legs down, as you twisted his arm, as he flipped you onto the mat, as you kicked his legs from beneath him, as you both rolled across the mats before you landed on top, trapping him in place. 

“Give in yet?”

“Do you?”

You were about to question what he meant, but then you felt it. Cold and sharp; he had your knife, again. But this time, it was pointed against your side. 

“What?” You hesitated for a second and looked away. Bucky took his opportunity. 

In two simple moves, you were on your back staring up at him with your own knife gently pressed against your skin. 

“Give in.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes at his glowing smirk. “Yes. Fine. Now get off me.” 

Bucky chuckled and stood up, lowering his hand down to help you up. At first, you swatted it away. But he held it out again, “Come on.”

Reluctantly, you accepted it and he helped you stand. “You’re focusing too much. Too in your head. You need to relax.” 

Bucky flipped the knife over in his hand so he was pinching the sharp blade. He handed it over to you and you swiped it up. “Thanks.” Your voice grunted a little before you placed your knife back in its place. 

“You know, if you wanted to, you could train with me more often.” Bucky offered as he walked away. “I know you and I are…whatever we are. But I have training that isn’t exactly found in a Shield manual.”

“I’m fine.” You said, avoiding looking at him as he stood with his back to you. You had stared at him in this fashion one too many times. It was only a short time before someone caught you doing so. Even worse if it was Bucky. 

“It’s not an issue. Hell, we don’t have to even talk-”

“I said I’m fine.” You didn’t mean to raise your voice when you spoke to him. You regretted it instantly. You sighed. “Look, I know you mean well. And, thank you. But I’m okay.”

Bucky watched you, over his shoulder. You walked away from the mats, grabbed your water bottle and sat down on one of the opposite benches. 

“What is it?” 

“What?”

“Do you have a problem with me or something?”

You sighed. “Bucky.”

“I get you and I don’t exactly get along-”

“I don’t have a problem with you,” you cut him off. “I just-” 

You gave a short sigh. There were so many reasons why it wouldn’t work if he was the one to train you. He wouldn’t know it, but you’d become more distracted by him. And for some reason it was written into the heavens that if you and Bucky spent more than ten minutes alone together, things in the air started to get…close. Too close. 

But the main thing was your undisclosed feelings for the super annoying, massive pain in your ass, super soldier. The longer you spent around him, so close to him, the harder they were getting to manage. 

It was only a matter of time before he figured out the truth. 

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea. Can we just leave it at that? Please?”

Bucky watched you for a moment before nodding. “Okay. Forget I ever mentioned it.”

You just nodded. 

Later that evening, Bucky had been with Wanda. And he’d been avoiding the topic of you ever since he walked through the front door. 

“Did something happen between you two?” Wanda just flat out asked him. 

“No. Nothing happened.”

“You’re sulking, so I know something happened.”

Bucky shrugged. “She just doesn’t want my help. I’ve tried being nice. But she’s just so…her. It’s annoying.”

Wanda nodded. “Yeah, I’m gonna need more information than just…you not handling your school boy crush very well.”

“I don’t-” Bucky shut his mouth as he whipped his head around to look at Wanda. “I don’t like her like that.”

“Doesn’t like who?” Sam asked as he walked through the door. 

“Bucky. Not liking Y/n.”

Sam just barked a laugh as he opened up the fridge and put his groceries away. “Ha! That’s a bullshit lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

“What-”

“Bucky,” Sam was practically laughing. “You’ve had a crush on her for god knows how long. I don’t know what twisted bullshit you both have going on that prevents you from talking like normal human beings, but even I know you saying you don’t like Y/n is nothing but a complete and utter bullshit lie.”

Bucky looked at Wanda for backup but she seemed to be on Sam’s side. 

“You know, maybe if you…I don’t know…talked to her rather than fight her-”

“She fights me!”

Sam just looked at him. “You fight each other.”

“Maybe you should just try and talk to her,” Wanda told him. “Might just clear a few things up.”

Sam sat down on the arm of the chair. “You’ve had feelings for her for a long time, Buck. Maybe it’s time you did something about it.”

Bucky just sighed. 

“How long have you guys been married?”

Bucky hadn’t noticed the nurse walk inside to your hospital room, at first. “Sorry?”

“I’m sorry to ask,” she apologised as she changed out your IV and drew some blood. “It’s just…I’ve seen a lot of couples pass through these doors and I’m yet to see ones with a connection like yours.”

Bucky sat up. The nurse could read the confusion on his face from a mile away. 

She just stepped to the side and pointed at the print of the heart rate. 

“See these spikes here?” 

Bucky nodded. 

“These are from when you’ve been with her. It’s good they’re going up. It means she’s recognising her surroundings. At the very least, the people in it. You’re healing for her.”

Bucky just looked at your still sleeping frame. He was helping you heal?

He was helping you heal?

He was helping you heal?

He was helping you heal?

The nurse smiled again. “How long have you two been married?”

“Not long,” Bucky answered. “But we’ve…we’ve known each other for years.”

The nurse smiled. “Who made the first move?”

Bucky thought for a moment. “She did. She saved my life.”

And you had. 

You’d been one of the new agents placed with the team. In the middle of a forest, Bucky had noticed every tripwire save for one. As something came flying over head, you’d swiped his legs from underneath him and pinned him down. 

“You’re welcome,” you whispered. 

That had been the first time Bucky had met you. It had also been the first time he’d looked you in the eyes. He could have happily drowned there and then. Which scared him. More than he knew what to deal with. 

“And now you’re here saving hers,” the nurse smiled. “I’ll be back in about an hour. Is there anything I can get you? Blankets, pillows?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

“She’ll be okay, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky just nodded and watched as the nurse left. As he turned his head, that was when he noticed your chart. They still kept you as Y/n Barnes. Nobody, including Bucky, had bothered to correct them. If anything, it meant Bucky still learnt about your injuries and your healing process. 

It also meant he got access to stay with you for as long as he wanted. Which, if he didn’t have to work and if Sam didn’t come and drag him outside every few hours, he’d stay the whole time. 

It was a month or so more before you finally woke up. 

When Bucky had gotten a text from Joaquin telling him to get to the hospital quickly, he’d dropped what he was doing and came running down the hallway of the hospital ten minutes later. 

“What’s happening?”

“I-I don’t know.” Joaquin told him. “I was just holding her hand and she moved. Like, she squeezed my hand.”

“What?” Bucky moved past Joaquin and to your side, leaning his hand on the side headboard. 

“Y/n? Hey, doll? Can you hear me?”

Bucky held your hand in his. Nothing happened. “I know you don’t like me all that much, but if you can hear me, can you try and squeeze my hand?” 

Again, nothing.

Bucky looked at Joaquin. 

“I didn’t dream it.”

Bucky looked back at you. For a split second, he pushed some of your hair from your face. “Doll, if you’re awake, please. I just need you to squeeze my hand.”

Again, nothing. 

Until there was something.

“Go and get a nurse.”

“On it!” Joaquin practically flew out of the room. 

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Joaquin had been talking to you, telling you that you were gonna be okay. Then you heard Bucky’s voice which was quickly followed by a rough hand gently holding onto yours. 

And when you finally opened your eyes, you saw him. Standing beside your bed, holding your hand, looking like the world had finally started moving again. 

It was a few hours before you came around properly. And when you did, it felt a lot less hectic. Everything was peaceful and quiet. You had time to look around. There was a steady beeping somewhere. 

A heart monitor. 

You had different wires and tubes sticking out of you. The lights weren’t as bright as they’d been when you’d first woken up. 

But the thing that caught your eye the most was the sleeping frame of Bucky, hunched over your bed. Then you felt it. His hand, still in yours. 

You tried to squeeze his hand but eventually it hurt a little less and he stirred awake before shooting up. 

“Hey, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“How long have I been out?”

Bucky answered you honestly. “Almost two months. The damage was extensive. Can you remember anything?”

You just nodded. “I think I blacked out after the building collapsed because I don’t remember anything after that.”

Bucky stood and pressed a button on the headboard of your bed before sitting beside you, clasping your hand in his. If it had been any other time, you would have taken your hand right back. 

But in that moment you needed comfort. You needed to feel safe. 

You felt safe with Bucky. 

But then you gasped. “Shit.”

“What? Are you hurt? What is it?”

You sat up and touched your chest and neck. “Your- your tags. I-”

Bucky just pulled the chain from his shirt. “There’s right here.”

You visibly relaxed but then you tensed as you watched Bucky remove them. “What are you doing?”

A small chuckle left him, “Just stay still, would you?”

“It’s not like I can exactly run away right now.”

Bucky smiled to himself before lifting the chain up and over your head. “There.”

You looked at him, wondering what he meant by all of it. “They’re your tags, Bucky.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “But I know they’re safe with you. They always looked better on you, anyway.”

Once Bucky knew you were okay, he’d wiped the rest of the tags clean. He’d been waiting to lay them back on you. He didn’t want to do it while you were sleeping. He needed you to fight him first. 

He needed proof you were alive. 

That was when the door opened and a nurse walked inside. “You’re awake! I must say, you nearly gave me and your husband a fright earlier. The doctor hadn’t predicted that you would wake up this early.”

You looked at Bucky and whispered, “Husband?”

“Just go with it,” he whispered back. 

It wasn’t until an hour or so, when both the Doctor and nurse had left, that you spoke to Bucky again. 

“You wanna tell me why we’re married?”

“They found my tags with you. They called me and…”

“You never corrected them?” You’d asked that question a lot calmer than Bucky had been expecting. 

“It meant I got to stay with you longer. And that they’d tell me what was going on.”

“You didn’t need to do that, Bucky.”

Bucky was honest with you. “I’m glad they called me first.”

You hand clutched the tags dangling from your neck. “They really thought you were my husband?”

Bucky chuckled. “If anything, the tags made sure you came home.”

In the silence as you and Bucky looked at each other, you felt the coolness of the metal in your palm. His tags had brought you home. His tags had brought him to you. His dog tags made sure you weren’t alone. And something told you Bucky had the same idea. 

Which was only confirmed when he attended almost every physio appointment with you. 

“How’s she doing, doc?”

The physio smiled as they held their arms up, in case you fell. “She’s doing great.”

“She’s tired and pissed off.” You answered truthfully. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I brought your favourite snacks from that store you and Kate found.”

Your hand gripped the two parallel bars as you slowly walked from one side to the other. “How the hell do you know about that store?”

“I asked Kate. She told me.”

As the phyio’s pager went off, Bucky offered to take over for a few minutes to help you. And, considering the medical staff still believed you and Bucky to be married, you’d both decided to just keep the act up. 

So, slowly walking beside you in case you fell, Bucky helped you turn around and walk back down the parallel bars. 

“How’ve you been feeling?”

“You mean other than tired and pissed off?”

“Yeah.”

“Sore,” you admitted. “Bored. I can’t wait to get back home.”

If Bucky was being honest, he would say the same thing. Even if you did spend more time fighting each other, he missed it. He missed you. 

“Neither can I.” The honesty slipped out from Bucky before he could think about any awkward consequences. 

You paused and looked at him. “What?” Your voice was a little softer than usual. 

“What?” Bucky shrugged. He’d said it. There was no taking it back. “It’s boring without you. I get we might fight the whole time, but without you I’ve got no one to keep my ego in check.”

Bucky earned a laugh from you as you looked away to keep walking. And he laughed, too. 

You had to admit. Laughing with Bucky rather than groaning was a nice change. 

And it only got easier from there on out. Your groans had turned to laughter, your scowls had turned to smiles and the roll of your eyes had turned to tears of laughter. 

And slowly, the same things happened for Bucky, too.

Eventually, the ten minute window you and Bucky spent together turned into twenty, then forty and before either of you knew it, hours had passed. 

You were both together and, surprisingly, still alive. 

[fellamarsh]

another thing i've been trying to do recently is read more self-published stuff. "but fell," you say, "you're a self-published author. surely you've been reading self-published stuff all along" and then i laugh for so long in response we both become uncomfortable.

see, the fear (which has for a long time been killing my mind) that i'll read other self-published stuff and find out that it's so much better than mine that i might as well stop writing forever kept me from doing that basically ever. i have a hard time not unfavorably comparing my work to others and had convinced myself i was being smart by withholding an avenue of de-motivation (reader: i was not being smart). it also doesn't help that i'm pretty low income and have a hard time spending money on books i haven't already read, and that self-published stuff isn't always available at the library---but really a lot of it was just me being a coward. which i'm working on. i could talk about how this particular cowardice is Very Silly, but i think enough has been said about it on writeblr and in the Writing Space in general that i don't feel the need to (though i will if anyone wants me to).

instead, i wanna talk about the self-published things i have read in the past few months and ask about the self-published things you love!

so: what happened was i got real sick, and while i was real sick i (naturally) read over 200,000 words of ace attorney fan fiction in the span of a few days. eventually i got bored of it (and also maybe annoyed at how people were characterizing some of my guys), but i still wanted to read something gay and romantic and nice, something i knew was gonna end happily, which isn't my typical fare.

now you may be saying (having gotten over all the uncomfortable laughter from earlier) "fell, you write gay romance. what do you mean that's not your typical fare?" listen. until a couple months ago i hadn't read a cut and dry romance novel since before i finished college. for context: i graduated in 2015. i know it doesn't make sense. i'm a guy who doesn't make sense.

but in this case it worked to my advantage. not the not making sense thing, but the not having read Published Romance in 1000 years thing. I didn't know where to start. I was very skeptical of everything the library had Available Now in the Gay Fantasy Romance category. what if it was all bad and also not good?

and then i scrolled past the familiar cover of our very own @ashen-crest's A Rival Most Vial.

now this was comfortable territory! this was a novel by a very nice writeblr person whose posts i enjoy! i already loosely knew the plot, i was familiar with the characters, i knew the names of things like rosemond street and the griffin's claw and that ambrose had blue hair and that at the end of it all there would definitely be Boyfriends. i didn't have to worry that this would be bad! i only had to worry that it would be really good!

but i wasn't worried about that, because i was officially Not Writing at the time, and because why the hell hadn't i read this book yet Ash literally emailed me some very kind words last year when my cat died??

Y'all, I devoured ARMV. If you haven't read it yet---especially if cozy fantasy is more your thing than it is mine---you should check it out Immediately. It was fun! It was heartwarming! It was sweet and earnest and confident! I was delighted to find it was occasionally hot! Ambrose and Eli snuggled up into my sick exhausted heart and found a permanent little place there. (Especially Ambrose. I have such a thing for Stiff Guys who Kind of Suck for Tragic Backstory Reasons and are So So Lonely They Don't Even Realize It. gawd)

(And a very small part of my brain spent the whole time wondering why I had been so afraid to really engage with the work my community is doing. The community that I'm in. The one I'm a part of. Why?! Maybe more on that later.)

But from there the curse was broken! I immediately devoured @stjohnstarling's What Manner of Man in a similar sort of frenzy (and hooooly shit guys am I excited for the expanded, finalized version to come out at the end of next month!) and started digging into @lurinatftbn's The Flower that Bloomed Nowhere (which I can already tell is going to be an All Time Favorite).

And now I want to ask you what your favorite self-published books are so that I can read them, too, but I think I will in another post that doesn't dedicate so much space to talking about my various and sundry Issues and isn't Terminally Long

[jamietwat]

👀

[verareids]

feel the same - s.r. x bau!reader

spencer misunderstands a conversation he overhears between reader and derek. tags/cws: misunderstandings, confessions of feelings, use of 'y/n', gn!reader, fluff, mild angst, derek morgan has big brother energy wc: 1708 (much longer than I thought lmao) a/n: I'm truly obsessed with season 1 spencer as of late so I HAD to write a fic with him in mind. <3

also posted on ao3

“You know Pretty Boy likes you, don’t you?”

Spencer had been trying to get some sleep on the flight back after working a case that had drained all his energy when the sound of Morgan’s voice caught his attention. Without opening his eyes, he knew exactly who he was talking to. Spencer had never outright admitted to anyone that he had developed feelings for you but it was getting harder to deny. Once Derek had started pointing out the way he’d look up when you entered a room or the way his eyes lingered as you walked away, he was becoming concerned that this crush was more obvious than he’d like it to be. 

He’s been trying to ignore it, telling himself it’s unprofessional when really it’s because he believes there’s no way you could possibly feel the same. There’s a myriad of reasons why he wished Derek would keep his big mouth shut but honestly – that was probably the biggest.

“Likes me? How old are we?” The smooth sound of your response makes Spencer smile to himself in spite of the current situation. 

“(Y/N), come on…” Derek chuckles and is immediately met with a long stretch of silence. Spencer can picture the death glare he knows he’d see on your face if he were to look at you in this moment. “Look, you know he’s never gonna ask you out himself so maybe you should just–”

“Derek.” You interrupt with an evident sternness in your tone. “I’m not having this conversation with you. I’ve told you, it’s not happening.” Ouch. Spencer had never allowed himself to dream that you would reciprocate his feelings but he definitely wishes he had been asleep for that one. With that, he forces his eyes shut tighter than before and takes in one deep, slightly shaky breath and decides to try to go back to sleep, if only so that he doesn’t have to hear you reject him even harder.

~

Spencer wakes up as the jet is landing and he quickly gathers all of his things, walking out and across the strip with much more urgency than usual. This detail doesn’t go unnoticed by you, not much does – especially where Spencer is concerned – and you make a mental note to check in with him later. He had caught your eye the first day you met him which must be, what? Half a year ago now? And he had been on your mind ever since. You had bonded quickly as friends, being the two youngest members on the team. About a month ago you had finally allowed yourself to acknowledge the fact that you had developed feelings for him. You’d sit next to him at any given opportunity, listen to his infamously long rants much longer than anyone else would, spend just a little too long staring at his lips as he talked you through his theories. It didn’t take long for people to notice. Elle had her suspicions, JJ made a comment every now and then, but Derek – he wouldn’t let it go. He teases you about it constantly. You haven’t given him the satisfaction of admitting it, you haven’t been able to deny it either.

When you eventually make your way into the building along with the rest of the team you notice that Spencer had already left. It’s only then you start to be concerned. It’s unlike him to leave in such a hurry, even more so to not even say goodbye. You rack your brain trying to come up for a reason for this strange behavior. Is he sick? Upset about something? Was it you? You begin to go over every interaction you’d had with him recently when you have to stop yourself before you spiral. He’s just tired. If it was serious he’d tell you… right?

~

The next morning you walk in to find Spencer at his desk working on the report he didn’t write last night before he had basically ran away.

“Morning, Spence!” You greet him, making an effort to sound cheerful as you lean on his desk. He doesn’t look up, like he’s trying extra hard to look busy.

“Morning, (Y/L/N).” He replies without looking up. His tone seems normal, his use of your last name is what sounds the alarms in your head.

“Hey… are you feeling alright?” You ask tentatively, not wanting to pry too much in case you really had done something wrong that you clearly weren’t aware of. “I noticed you kind of left in a hurry last night.” He finally looks up and meets your eyes, easing your nerves slightly. His eyes shift away and then back to yours before a soft smile graces his lips, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m okay.” He responds after a while in a way that sounds like that’s not all he wants to say. You go to reassure him, make sure he knows he can tell you anything, but stop yourself when you notice the way he tenses when you place a hand on his shoulder. Retracting your hand quickly, you begin to fidget with your fingers before running them through your hair nervously.

“Spencer… I–” You start and stop and Spencer feels a little guilty as you seem to stumble over your words anxiously. “Is it me? Did I do something? Because if I did I–”.

“(Y/N).” Spencer cuts off your panicked rambling. You take a steadying breath as he slowly rises to stand in front of you, your eyes trailing up when he towers over you. He looks around the room and sighs before focusing back on you. “Can we go somewhere to talk?” You nod and begin walking towards a storage room with Spencer following close behind, quickly checking that there's no one in there before stepping inside.

“What’s going on with you?” You break the silence as Spencer closes the door behind him. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve been acting weird.” You notice the way he dodges the question. He can’t meet your eyes anymore, his gaze shifts around the room and he smiles awkwardly at you.

“Spence, that’s not–” You interrupt yourself, trying to find a way to put your thoughts to words without overwhelming him. “I only want you to be okay. You’ve been acting differently since last night… If there’s something going on I want to be there for you.” When you say that he smiles sadly. He looks down in thought as if he’s considering something.

“I heard you talking to Morgan…” He mumbles, still staring at his feet – wringing his hands together. You furrow your brows in confusion. Talking to Morgan? “On the jet on the way home…”

“Oh.” This isn’t happening. You figure you should’ve known Derek’s relentless teasing would be your downfall. He must know you like him now. There’s a reason you never wanted him to know how you felt. You couldn’t stand the thought of anything ruining your friendship. Spencer visibly deflates even more in front of you at your lack of response. You begin scrambling to come up with a way to get out of this horrifically embarrassing situation.

“Look, I– I didn’t mean to make this awkward…” Oh god. The way he’s stuttering and tripping over his words. You stare blankly at him, then duck your head, bracing for the impact of his rejection. “It’s not like I thought you would feel the same way I just–” Wait what? Your head snaps back up to see his face, eyes widened, which seems to startle him a little. “I wasn’t going to say anything but I guess I just got really in my head about it.” He begins to look a little panicked. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry if I did.” You just keep staring up at him, mouth agape in disbelief. “(Y/N)?” He says your name with a sad desperation and it reminds you that you should respond.

“Sorry, I–” You say slowly while shaking your head. “Are you saying that – Do you like me?” Now it’s Spencer’s turn to look confused, but it was all starting to make sense to you. You had thought he was acting weird because he had found out about your feelings, when in reality, it was the other way around.

“Yes?” He replies hesitantly.

“I like you too.” You say simply with a shy smile but Spencer looks completely taken aback. 

“You do?” The way his eyes light up with a subtle excitement was adorable. Soon after, that look was replaced with skepticism. “But I thought— you told Morgan you didn’t like me.”

“I told Morgan to stop teasing me about you because I didn’t think this…” You gesture between the two of you. “Was ever going to happen.” Spencer let out a sigh of relief and smiled bashfully.

“You could have just told me.” You feel his eyes scanning your face as if he were still looking for proof that you weren’t messing with him.

“You didn’t tell me either.”

“I thought there was no way…” You make eye contact as he trails off in thought. “I guess it doesn’t matter now.” Spencer takes a tentative step closer to you but doesn’t move to touch you in any way, so you reach out to take his hands in yours, lacing your fingers together.

“Well… maybe if we don’t have to fly out for a case today, we could go to dinner tonight?” You’re staring down at your intertwined hands, squeezing once before looking back up. When you see his face he’s still looking down with a big dopey grin on his face and you can’t help but smile right back.

“Yes— definitely.” You giggle at his obvious enthusiasm. 

You both stay in the storage room for another couple minutes, mostly just staring starry eyed at each other. Eventually you both decide that you should get back to work. You try to hide whatever was now going between you as much as you can but like always, Derek Morgan figures you out within minutes and he, along with the rest of the team, teases you relentlessly. (You wouldn’t have it any other way.)

[alfheimr]

My Favorite Cheap Art Trick: Gradient Maps and Blending Modes

i get questions on occasion regarding my coloring process, so i thought i would do a bit of a write up on my "secret technique." i don't think it really is that much of a secret, but i hope it can be helpful to someone. to that end:

this is one of my favorite tags ive ever gotten on my art. i think of it often. the pieces in question are all monochrome - sort of.

the left version is the final version, the right version is technically the original. in the final version, to me, the blues are pretty stark, while the greens and magentas are less so. there is some color theory thing going on here that i dont have a good cerebral understanding of and i wont pretend otherwise. i think i watched a youtube video on it once but it went in one ear and out the other. i just pick whatever colors look nicest based on whatever vibe im going for.

this one is more subtle, i think. can you tell the difference? there's nothing wrong with 100% greyscale art, but i like the depth that adding just a hint of color can bring.

i'll note that the examples i'll be using in this post all began as purely greyscale, but this is a process i use for just about every piece of art i make, including the full color ones. i'll use the recent mithrun art i made to demonstrate. additionally, i use clip studio paint, but the general concept should be transferable to other art programs.

for fun let's just start with Making The Picture. i've been thinking of making this writeup for a while and had it in mind while drawing this piece. beyond that, i didn't really have much of a plan for this outside of "mithrun looks down and hair goes woosh." i also really like all of the vertical lines in the canary uniform so i wanted to include those too but like. gone a little hog wild. that is the extent of my "concept." i do not remember why i had the thought of integrating a shattered mirror type of theme. i think i wanted to distract a bit from the awkward pose and cover it up some LOL but anyway. this lack of planning or thought will come into play later.

note 1: the textured marker brush i specifically use is the "bordered light marker" from daub. it is one of my favorite brushes in the history of forever and the daub mega brush pack is one of the best purchases ive ever made. highly recommend!!!

note 2: "what do you mean by exclusion and difference?" they are layer blending modes and not important to the overall lesson of this post but for transparency i wanted to say how i got these "effects." anyway!

with the background figured out, this is the point at which i generally merge all of my layers, duplicate said merged layer, and Then i begin experimenting with gradient maps. what are gradient maps?

the basic gist is that gradient maps replace the colors of an image based on their value.

so, with this particular gradient map, black will be replaced with that orangey red tone, white will be replaced with the seafoamy green tone, etc. this particular gradient map i'm using as an example is very bright and saturated, but the colors can be literally anything.

these two sets are the ones i use most. they can be downloaded for free here and here if you have csp. there are many gradient map sets out there. and you can make your own!

you can apply a gradient map directly onto a specific layer in csp by going to edit>tonal correction>gradient map. to apply one indirectly, you can use a correction layer through layer>new correction layer>gradient map. honestly, correction layers are probably the better way to go, because you can adjust your gradient map whenever you want after creating the layer, whereas if you directly apply a gradient map to a layer thats like. it. it's done. if you want to make changes to the applied gradient map, you have to undo it and then reapply it. i don't use correction layers because i am old and stuck in my ways, but it's good to know what your options are.

this is what a correction layer looks like. it sits on top and applies the gradient map to the layers underneath it, so you can also change the layers beneath however and whenever you want. you can adjust the gradient map by double clicking the layer. there are also correction layers for tone curves, brightness/contrast, etc. many such useful things in this program.

let's see how mithrun looks when we apply that first gradient map we looked at.

gadzooks. apologies for eyestrain. we have turned mithrun into a neon hellscape, which might work for some pieces, but not this one. we can fix that by changing the layer blending mode, aka this laundry list of words:

some of them are self explanatory, like darken and lighten, while some of them i genuinely don't understand how they are meant to work and couldn't explain them to you, even if i do use them. i'm sure someone out there has written out an explanation for each and every one of them, but i've learned primarily by clicking on them to see what they do.

for the topic of this post, the blending mode of interest is soft light. so let's take hotline miamithrun and change the layer blending mode to soft light.

here it is at 100% opacity. this is the point at which i'd like to explain why i like using textured brushes so much - it makes it very easy to get subtle color variation when i use this Secret Technique. look at the striation in the upper right background! so tasty. however, to me, these colors are still a bit "much." so let's lower the opacity.

i think thats a lot nicer to look at, personally, but i dont really like these colors together. how about we try some other ones?

i like both of these a lot more. the palettes give the piece different vibes, at which point i have to ask myself: What Are The Vibes, Actually? well, to be honest i didn't really have a great answer because again, i didn't plan this out very much at all. however. i knew in my heart that there was too much color contrast going on and it was detracting from the two other contrasts in here: the light and dark values and the sharp and soft shapes. i wanted mithrun's head to be the main focal point. for a different illustration, colors like this might work great, but this is not that hypothetical illustration, so let's bring the opacity down again.

yippee!! that's getting closer to what my heart wants. for fun, let's see what this looks like if we change the blending mode to color.

i do like how these look but in the end they do not align with my heart. oh well. fun to experiment with though! good to keep in mind for a different piece, maybe! i often change blending modes just to see what happens, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. i very much cannot stress enough that much of my artistic process is clicking buttons i only sort of understand. for fun.

i ended up choosing the gradient map on the right because i liked that it was close to the actual canary uniform colors (sorta). it's at an even lower opacity though because there was Still too much color for my dear heart.

the actual process for this looks like me setting my merged layer to soft light at around 20% opacity and then clicking every single gradient map in my collection and seeing which one Works. sometimes i will do this multiple times and have multiple soft light and/or color layers combined.

typically at this point i merge everything again and do minor contrast adjustments using tone curves, which is another tool i find very fun to play around with. then for this piece in particular i did some finishing touches and decided that the white border was distracting so i cropped it. and then it's done!!! yay!!!!!

this process is a very simple and "fast" way to add more depth and visual interest to a piece without being overbearing. well, it's fast if you aren't indecisive like me, or if you are better at planning.

let's do another comparison. personally i feel that the hint of color on the left version makes mithrun look just a bit more unwell (this is a positive thing) and it makes the contrast on his arm a lot more pleasing to look at. someone who understands color theory better than i do might have more to say on the specifics, but that's honestly all i got.

just dont look at my layers too hard. ok?

[16wolke11]

Clumsy - Oscar Piastri

A/N My first one-shot here! Still figuring out the tagging and stuff, but I hope you like it.

Summary: Oscar's girlfriend is extremely clumsy, always managing to get a new bruise or a new cut just a few days apart. One day she falls down the stairs and needs surgery, Oscar drops everything to be with her.

Words: 2139

__________

Being a teacher at an elementary school was always my dream job, and after finishing my master's degree, I am finally able to do what I love; teaching the young ones and laying the first stones on their path to knowledge. Even though it is difficult at times, to manage the fidgeting children who tend to get distracted easily, it's still what I love. Seeing success when another one manages to read a full sentence, solve a math problem, or write a rather difficult word with the correct spelling is priceless.

But being a teacher also means I'm not able to accompany Oscar that often. It's just not ideal to travel over the weekend; landing late on Fridays and having to leave exactly after the race, while also trying to prepare the classes for the upcoming week and maybe even needing to correct work from the previous one. I love summer break because it means I can be with Oscar more often, but in the meantime, we make the best out of the situation. We FaceTime frequently, chat while the other is occupied, and just savour the time we can spend together.

This week is another one when Oscar left for a race, and I have to stay behind. Luckily, I have a short day at school today, allowing me to go before lunch and finish some things. Well, if it weren't for my clumsy self. Oscar always jokes that I get at least five new bruises while he's away, and he's probably right, but I can't do anything about the stumbling, the brushing against door frames, or knocking my little toe into anything. But today, my bad luck took it one step too far, and I slipped on the stairs at school, hitting my elbow on them and feeling a sharp pain shoot down my arm.

I've fallen down these stairs before, but I've never been in so much pain. One of my coworkers found me, and after a quick look at my already bruising elbow, we decided to call an ambulance. Now, hours later, I have a diagnosis and finally some time to tell Oscar what happened. I already have a few texts from him, nothing too worried, just some updates about his day and a question about how mine is going. With a sigh, I call his number, bracing myself to tell him everything while not even being able to fidget with my fingers for distraction.

It doesn't take long before Oscar picks up like he's been waiting in front of his phone just anticipating my call or text. "Hey, Oscar," I greet him and hear some shuffling in the background before a door closes and Oscar speaks up.

"Love, everything okay? Shouldn't you be at work?" he asks, his voice already laced with worry. I close my eyes for a moment. Oscar didn't even know I was supposed to be out of work early today and just assumes I should still be at school teaching or supervising the little gremlins.

"Please don't freak out," I start, and I hear a nervous chuckle in response.

"This is not a great starting point for that request, but I'll try."

He's right, but I don't even know how to phrase what happened easily, so I just start with the simplest explanation I can think of. "Well, I kind of fell down the stairs after finishing my last class."

"Again?" Oscar laughs, and I can't help but smile a little too, though I roll my eyes at the same time, even though Oscar can't see me.

"Hey, I can't do anything about being clumsy," I protest, but I only get another laugh in return. Usually, I would laugh with him, but the light throbbing in my elbow, down to my fingers, stops the light mood I'm in.

"Sorry, but I reckon you don't just call to tell me that," Oscar apologizes softly, and then he gets back to the reason for my call. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for all the questions he's going to have.

"No, I might've smashed my elbow pretty badly, and they brought me to the hospital." I tell him the first facts, and immediately the laughing Oscar is replaced with a worried one.

"That bad?" he asks, and I can almost hear the pain in his voice. As much as he likes to joke about my clumsiness, he also hates it when I get injured, even if it's just a little bruise or a cut.

"Unfortunately, I managed to break it and need surgery to fix the broken pieces back into place. It'll be a long recovery because I was pretty successful in splintering the bone into pieces," I tell him what the doctors explained, just in the simpler version. They explained a lot about how they need to make sure there are no little bone fragments left in the joint and the recovery process I'll have to go through.

"Fuck!" Oscar curses, and I can hear him pacing, probably in his driver's room. I can only imagine the distressed look on his face and how he's probably ruffling his hair while a thousand thoughts swirling through his head. Well, at least he's giving me an insight into what's going on in his mind, because he starts rambling.

"How are you feeling? Are you okay? Do you need anything? I could send Margaret over or someone else if you need anyone by your side right now. Did they say anything about the recovery? Will your arm be able to move normally or will there be any lasting damage?"

"Oscar, stop." I manage to speak up when he takes a deep breath. It's sweet how he's trying to help me from afar, even thinking about sending our elderly neighbour to me, but I need him to calm down.

"Sorry, kind of freaking out right now," he mutters, and I smile just a little bit.

"I could tell." I still remember the first time Oscar rambled that much and how surprised I was by the speed and number of words coming out of his mouth. Usually, he's calm, collected, and limits his words to the necessary ones, but when he's really worried, everything just comes out.

"Don't worry, I don't need anything right now. Just hearing your voice makes everything feel better," I tell him, which is the truth. There's nothing I need right now, except for him, and he just helps me by being here on the phone, even though it's not the same as having him in person.

"That's good," Oscar says, and I can hear that he's stopped pacing, probably calming down a little.

"Is there anything you know about the surgery?" he asks after a short break, now sounding like his calm self again.

"We're currently waiting for a free spot in the OR. It's not urgent, but they'd like to operate before the swelling gets too bad, and luckily, I haven't had lunch yet," I explain what the doctors told me. This isn't an emergency, but waiting too long isn't ideal either, so they're going to squeeze me in as soon as one of the ORs is available.

"I bet you're hungry," Oscar grins, and I can hear it in his voice. I've learned to recognize that tone through the phone—the soft change when his lips are curled upwards.

"Starving," I confirm with a soft laugh. My stomach is already growling, but there's no way to get food until after the surgery. I can wait if it means my elbow will be fixed.

"I promise you your favourite food as soon as I'm with you," Oscar says, and I know he's not lying. He would probably even order food into the hospital for me if that were possible, but they wouldn't bring it to me, so I'll have to wait.

"Looking forward to it. Hopefully, I'll be home by then," I mumble, knowing it will take some days until Oscar will be back home, and who knows, maybe they'll send me home just a few days after the surgery.

"We'll see," are Oscar's last words about my injury before we start talking a bit about his day. I get the feeling he's trying to distract me, and it's working perfectly. At one point, Oscar needs to leave for some duties, and luckily for me, a nice nurse comes in just a few minutes later to inform me that my surgery is starting soon.

The way to the OR and the prepping feels like a blur, and quicker than I thought, I'm with an anaesthesiologist. Drifting into sleep feels like a relief because I know my arm will be fixed. Of course, recovery will take its time, but I'm sure I'll manage it just fine.

Waking up after the surgery almost knocks the air out of my lungs because it feels like my arm is falling off. The nurse helps me take a few sips of water, gives me some painkillers, and then I drift back into sleep, even though I just woke up from a deep slumber.

The night is blurry, waking up from time to time—sometimes from the pain in general, sometimes from the nurses, and sometimes from the pain of a sudden movement. But somehow, I make it through the night and feel slightly better in the morning. Blinking, I try to figure out what time it might be when I spot a familiar figure sitting beside my bed, watching me closely.

"Os?" I ask groggily, not sure if he's really sitting there or if the pain meds are playing tricks on my mind. But just seeing the soft smile on his lips makes me hope that he's really there and not just in my imagination.

"Hi, love," he whispers, fingers reaching for my uninjured hand, softly holding onto it, letting me feel the warmth of his touch.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, slowly realizing that he's indeed here and not with his team for the race weekend.

"Being here for you," he simply states, like it's obvious that it wouldn't even be a question for him if he had to choose where to be right now.

"Your race..." I whisper, knowing how important it is, not only to him but to the fans, the championship, the team, and everyone else involved. I would like to ask him if he's insane, if they made it hard for him to leave, but no words leave my lips.

"You are more important," Oscar states, and my eyes well up. How can he be so perfect?

"Thank you," I try to squeeze his hand a bit, but my grip is pretty weak. Oscar starts letting his thumb brush over the back of my hand, and I relax under his touch. His eyes wander over me before he asks a question.

"How are you feeling? Is the pain manageable?"

My eyes linger on my heavily padded elbow for a moment. Right now, I don't feel anything but a dull pain. But it seems like Oscar's touch makes it disappear with every soft stroke of his finger on my skin.

"You make everything seem better just by being here," I state, my voice laced with tiredness, and Oscar smiles softly.

"So, I guess they gave you some nice painkillers," he grins. I can hear it in his voice, and I can feel my lips pulling into a crooked smile.

"Yes."

We look at each other for a moment, but my eyes are getting heavier and heavier, and I have to fight to keep them open for a few more minutes.

"Can you come in?" I ask Oscar, who looks conflicted at my question.

"I don't know," he says, gesturing to my body, indicating he's scared of hurting me in any way, but I just need him close now for recovery.

"Please."

Oscar sighs softly before standing up. "Okay, anything to make you feel better," he says, gets rid of his shoes, and carefully shuffles into the bed beside me. I need to stay on my back because of my elbow being propped up in some bedding, and he lays on his side beside my good arm, resting his arm over my belly and searching for the contact I need. I rest my head against his chest before a thought comes into my head.

"Did you bring the food?" I ask, remembering what he promised, and even though my mind is hazy, I realize he probably already knew he was coming home early when he promised me the food.

"Yes," Oscar confirms, and I can only hum the following words, close to falling asleep.

"Love you."

"Love you too, my little crash pilot," Oscar whispers, holding me in his arms while I slip into the sleep of recovery.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Hi!! I love your writing!!!!! Could I request some totally self indulgent headcanons or a small Drabble/fic? Ford x reader on their birthday! It’s my birthday in a few weeks and I just really want my fictional man there 😭😂 but I thought I’d ask early in case your inbox was full! Thank you! ❤️

when the scientist loves you | Ford Pines x reader

hii angel, happy birthday!! ♡ i hope your day is as lovely as you are, may this year bring you endless inspiration, happy moments and everything your heart desires! ♡ ♡ ♡

tags: birthday, fluff, sfw, established relationship

Ford's voice carries softly from the kitchen, muttering as he reads measurements off an old recipe card. You sit at the table, watching the back of his head tilt toward the stovetop. The apron Mabel gave him, the one with "may the fork be with you" scribbled across the front in obnoxious block letters, look ridiculously cute tied over his sweater.

“You look very dignified in that, professor,” you tease, propping your chin on your hand.

Ford turns his head to shoot you a dry look, though there’s a tug of amusement at the corner of his mouth. “Sweetheart, you know, my culinary doctorate doesn’t let me cook in anything else.” he teases you back.

You laugh and Ford straightens a little, pushing his glasses up his nose with the back of his wrist.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” you look at the table where a neatly folded napkin waits beside a single glass of wine. “it’s just a birthday.”

He glances over his shoulder, his face expression changes into serious one. “Just a birthday?” he repeats incredulously. “this is the day the universe decided to grace existence with you. The fact that you think it’s ‘just’ anything is absurd.”

You're staring at him in silence right now because, to be honest, you can't find the right words to respond to such a compliment. And as if satisfied with your surprised cute face, Ford turns back to the stovetop, missing the way your lips press together to suppress a smile.

“Besides,” he adds, stirring whatever’s in the pan, “i’ve run calculations. The probability of me burning this is well below fifteen percent.”

“Comforting.” your answer makes Stanford smirk, but he keeps his focus on his work.

Minutes later, he places the plate in front of you with both satisfaction and concern on his face. “honesty, no pressure, but if it’s terrible, i might die of shame. . .”

You roll your eyes at your husband because how does a man that smart always doubt and criticize himself?

Taking a bite, your lips turn into smile, the taste becomes warm and pleasant, pulling a hum of approval from your chest. “Ford, this is amazing?”

He exhales with relief and pulls out the chair beside you. “Good, i wasn’t sure if the seasoning would—”

“You’re incredible,” you interrupt and Ford stops mid-sentence as the tips of his ears turn red.

“Believe me, my love, you deserve nothing less.”

You eat together and at one point, he picks up the fork himself, offering you another bite. Once the plates are cleared, he stands abruptly, holding out his hand. “Lets go, sweetheart.”

“Where?” you ask, letting him pull you to your feet.

“You’ll see.” you barely have time to grab your coat before he’s leading you toward the door. His six fingered hand feels so warm in yours as you step outside into the cool air. “Close your eyes,” he says, and when you hesitate, he squeezes your hand. “trust me.”

You huff but obey, curling your fingers against his. Ford proudly guides you through the woods as he starts talking enthusiastically. “You know, if we were walking blindfolded through the quantum multiverse instead of this forest, you’d have a thirty-five percent chance of stepping into a dimension where time runs backward.”

You grin, keeping your eyes closed. “Fascinating.” you're parodying his catchphrase. “should i be worried about that here?”

“Unlikely,” he deadpans, though you can hear the smirk in his tone. “but if you hear an oscillating sound, let me know immediately.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously well-prepared.” some minutes later the ground beneath your feet changes texture, the soft crunch of dirt giving way to grass, and Ford’s pace slows.

“Are we there yet?” you ask impatiently.

“Almost, darling. Okay, stop. You can open your eyes.” you hesitate, preparing yourself before letting your eyelids flutter open. The sight in front of you makes you gasp.

Ahead of you, nestled in the clearing, is a flower that glows, it's long and translucent petals, curved outward, are made of the thinnest glass. Luminous veins, similar in color to silver, pulsate through them. The center shimmers with different colors, like the aurora borealis trapped in a single bloom.

“Ford. . .” you take a step forward, the damp grass pressing under your shoes, but you can’t look away. You turn your head slightly, glancing at him. Ford is staring at the flower too, the bright light from the flower is reflected in his glasses, but his expression isn’t the detached curiosity he usually wears while talking about his discoveries. It’s different now, gentler.

“A luminaria eximia,” Ford explains, predicting your question. “it’s rare, very rare, it only blooms under specific conditions.”

“You brought me here to see this?”

“Of course,” he replies with intonation as if the question confuses him. “you deserve extraordinary things.”

Your chest tightens and the tears you’ve been holding back sting at the edges of your vision. You don’t want him to see, don’t want to ruin the moment with your sudden wave of overwhelming emotion, so you turn away and close the space between you and him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his chest.

Ford stiffens, caught off guard by your reaction. Did he do something wrong? That's his first reaction, worry and concern for you, but then he relaxes, settling his hands settling your back, hugging you too. The time he spent with you made him know exactly what to do without you needing to ask and explain.

“Hey, hey,” he says gently, leaning down. “now what’s this?”

You shake your head, tightening your arms around him. “You—” you hate how your voice trembles, “you didn’t have to do all this.”

Ford chuckles. “sweetheart, of course i did, i wanted to.”

You lift your head slightly, still not letting him see your face, and his hand moves to your chin, tilting it upward until you have no choice but to meet his attentive gaze.

“You deserve this,” his thumb brushes a stray tear from your cheek. “you deserve everything.” his words unravel you completely and he must see it because his brows knit together with concern before softening again. His six-fingered hands cup your face gently, treating you like his precious artifact he’s vowed to protect. “you mean so much to me, i don’t know how else to say it except—”

But you don’t let him finish. You lean up, standing on your toes to close the small distance between you, and kiss him. The first reason is just because you want to, and the second is because that smartass needs to shut up with his touching speeches before you flood the whole field with your tears. Ford freezes for a moment, startled, but then his hands find your face and he deepens it carefully, afraid of breaking the moment.

You don’t know how long you stay like that because you're ready to spend eternity with his lips on yours, kissing you slowly, so sensually, softly, so damn tenderly, trying to memorize the shape of your mouth while his thumbs moving in slow arcs over your cheeks.

When you finally pull back, his hair ruffled from your hands, Ford looks at you as though you’ve just rewritten the laws of the universe. “oh, you really do have a way of surprising me.” he raises his eyebrows.

“Takes one to know one,” the corner of your mouth lifting as you run your finger over his jawline.

He laughs at that and after one last lingering glance at the luminous flower, he takes your hand again. “come on,” his voice changes into more teasing. “i haven’t even given you your present yet.”

“This wasn’t it?” you ask, gesturing back toward the flower as he starts to lead you out of the clearing.

“No, this was. . . an extra. A bonus, if you will.”

“Ah, an extra,” you repeat teasingly. “you’re ridiculous, Stanford Pines.”

“You already said that.”

By the time you step inside the Mystery Shack, the lingering chill of the evening has melted away. The warm glow of the lamps greets you and Ford’s hand lingers on yours before he releases it. He takes off his coat and drapes it over the back of a chair. You follow suit, watching as he rubs his hands together nervously, before giving you a soft lopsided smile.

“Wait here for a moment!” and though you’re still glowing from the earlier surprises, his tone piques your curiosity again. He disappears, leaving you standing there, before you can ask any questions.

When your husband returns, he’s holding a small wooden box, polished as though he carved it himself. Its edges are rounded and there’s a mark burned into the top: his initials, alongside yours.

“This,” and for all his brilliance, his voice sounds so nervous as he holds it out to you. “this is for. . . you.”

You take the box carefully and lift the lid. Inside, on a piece of dark fabric, is a necklace. No, calling it a necklace doesn’t do it justice. It’s far more otherworldly, the pendant a swirling prism of beautiful colors that change, reminding you of the starlight caught in a bottle.

You stare at it, not daring to find the words.

“It’s called a crystallite shard,” Ford explains again. “i found it on one of my expeditions. It only exists in one dimension and it’s said to reflect the thoughts of the person wearing it. Not their memories exactly, but their essence, in a way.”

You look up at him, wide-eyed. “Ford. . .”

“I thought,” he continues, “that if anyone deserved to have something so unique and unrepeatable, it would be you.”

You’re speechless, brushing your finger over the pendant as it gleams under the light of the Mystery Shack.

And before you can say something, ”b-but that’s not all,” Ford gestures to the box. You tilt it slightly and see another layer beneath the fabric: a small, intricately detailed wooden charm, shaped like a constellation. More simple compared to the necklace, but so beautiful in its own way.

“I carved that,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s. . . it’s the constellation we saw the first time we stargazed together. I wanted you to have something from me, personally.”

Your heart swells and before he can say anything else, you throw your arms around his neck, clutching him tightly. “Ford, you didn’t have to. This is. . . this is so perfect.”

Stanford smiles softly, wrapping his arms around you. “you deserve perfect,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “you deserve more than I could ever give, darling.”

“This is more than enough,” you pull back to look into his eyes.

Ford akes the necklace from the box. “May i?” what a damn gentleman, you think and nod, turning around as he drapes it carefully around your neck. When he’s finished, you touch the pendant lightly, marveling at the way it seems to shift with your movements. “It suits you, matches your beautiful eyes.” he just stands there and can't stop admiring you.

You both end up on the couch not long after, wrapped in the softest blanket he could find. Ford's arms wrap tighter around you, pulling you against him. But some time later, blanket is forgotten as his hands desperately, but gently explore every part of you they can reach, your back, your arms, the curve of your waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” Ford brushes his lips against your hair. “i hope you know that.”

You laugh. “well, you tell me often enough.”

“Not often enough,” he says firmly, cupping your cheek. “i don’t think i could ever say it enough or show you enough. You're everything i don’t deserve but can’t let go of.”

“Ford—” you start, but he doesn’t let you speak, kissing you, stealing the words from your mouth. Ford tilts your head gently, threading his long fingers into your hair as the kiss grows with aching intensity, damn, he’s been starving for this moment. Your hands find his chest, his shoulders, clutching at him.

“Every time i touch you, i can’t believe you’re real.” he breathes out between kisses, trailing his lips down to your jaw, then your neck. He pauses there, pressing another kiss just below your ear. “your skin,” his hands trace the line of your shoulders. “so warm, i could stay like this forever.”

You can’t even reply, not when he’s kissing you like this, pressing open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck.

Then he leans back only to take your hands in his, bringing them to his lips, kissing each knuckle. “these hands, they’ve done so much. They’ve built a life for us, cared for me in ways i never thought i’d experience again. They’re precious to me.” you bite your lower lip when his mouth finds the delicate skin of your wrists. “and this heart,” he presses his lips where your pulse beats steadily. “so full of love, so generous, i’m in awe of it every single day.”

“So beautiful, every part of you. I could spend a lifetime just looking at you, touching you, loving you. I just love you, love you so much it terrifies me sometimes.”

You can’t find the words to respond, so you just lean into him, burying your face in his neck as he holds you. His hands never stop moving, caressing and holding you, trying to reassure himself that you’re here, that you’re his. Because you damn deserve to be cherished, every inch of you deserves to be kissed, to be loved. And Ford Pines will spend the rest of his life making sure you know that.

“Come here, darling, closer, need you closer,” he pulls you deeper into his embrace, his lips are on you again, kissing your cheeks, your eyelids, the tip of your nose. You giggle when he presses another kiss to your temple, then to your ear. “do you know how long i’ve waited to hold you like this? to touch you, to love you? it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but he doesn’t stop, cradling your face in both hands. “youre extraordinary, every part of you. your mind, your heart, your body. I don’t know how i got so lucky, but i’ll never stop trying to be worthy of you. You're everything to me and i’ll spend every day reminding you of that. Happy birthday, darling, thank you for letting me love you.” Ford kisses you until you’re dizzy, your fingers tangling in his hair as you try to keep up.

[leighsartworks216]

Red String of Fate

Sylus x gn!Reader

Spent like an hour talking to my roommate in the middle of posting this. Not proofread (even tho I really should) Takes place in the Raven universe

Warnings: red string of fate, birthday, past trauma, past character death, fluff, kissing, crying, presents

Word Count: 3,082

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

The Raven Masterlist

AO3

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“You ask-”

“No, you-”

You snap your fingers. The loud click shuts up the twins in an instant and draws them from the shadows of the doorway into the room. They look decidedly anxious, midway between shoving each other forward. You raise a brow at them.

They look at each other. With a shared nod, they stand side by side in front of you. “When’s your birthday?” they both ask at once.

… Really? All that fuss just to ask when you were born? You give them an unimpressed stare. Interrupting your alone time was really worth this?

“It’s just that we-”

“Were wondering since Boss’s birthday is in April-”

“And if yours is before-”

“Or after-”

“His then we can start preparing right now!”

You tap your finger against the armrest. Your persistent silence unnerves them, even after you’ve been here for almost a year at this point. It’s nice, especially now that they’ve had time to adjust to it. It took a lot of confidence to ask you such a stupid question, after all. Too bad you don’t have any interest in answering.

You turn back to your book, signaling the end of the conversation. The twins look at each other, shrug, and leave. Once they’re safely past the open doorway and down the hall, you set your book down.

A birthday growing up sounded like some magical, wondrous event. Candy, games, cake, presents. How many nights had you dreamed of them? How many times had you seen a group of kids in cone hats in the park, parents trying to round them all up so they could blow out candles and dig into the carefully decorated cakes, with cursive writing on top wishing the special one a happy birthday?

The best you managed to scrounge up was when you were maybe 10 years old, give or take a few years. A new soup kitchen opened up. You lined up on the block with the other homeless, starving people of the city. The promise of hot food was always worth the pitying glances and disgusted glares.

When it was your turn in line, after waiting all morning until your legs were just about ready to give out, the person working there had dug through a crinkled brown paper bag to give you a squished brownie wrapped in cling film. That night, an older man you’d known well, had you blow out his lighter to make a wish. You’d split the brownie with him.

When he died less than a week later, something in you died with him. You hadn’t had a brownie since, or much else in the way of sweets, for that matter. As soon as the Devil picked you up into his business, they were off the table completely. The only real thing that improved was how frequent your meals were, without the anxiety of never eating again. But not the quantity; you had to stay thin for the stage.

You don’t even remember what day that soup kitchen opened. Well, there’s no reason to look into it now. Enough bad memories have been dredged up today.

Your phone buzzes with a message.

The twins are asking me when your birthday is. I assume they already tried asking you?

They left just a few minutes ago.

There’s no response for a minute, as if he knows he’s stepping on a thin line between things you do talk about and things you’ll never talk about.

Do you want to celebrate it?

You have to take a moment to think, to consider what he’s offering here.

You have no idea when your birthday is, and he probably gleaned as much. That’s not what he’s asking, though. If you could stare at a calendar, at every single day of the year all perfectly laid out, when would you pick to celebrate your life? It wouldn’t be a celebration of your birth, but it could be so much more. You’re not even sure what adults do for their birthdays, so separated from the concept that you stopped paying attention entirely. But you could choose to do anything - everything.

Your thumb hovers uncertainly over the digital keyboard, before finally typing out a message.

I think I would.

Just say when, sweetheart.

-

The second the twins are told your “birthday” is just a month away, on the day you agreed to work alongside Sylus, it’s all they seem to care about. Huddling together to excitedly whisper about it during missions, probing questions into what you like (mostly to Sylus, but sometimes they get so excited they ask you before realizing you won’t answer), hiding packages delivered to the mansion, and so on.

Sylus is much better about containing his excitement, if he is excited at all to celebrate your special day. He asks first if there’s anything special you’d like to do - dinner, shopping, traveling - you name it and he’s on it. When you admit that you have no idea what people do on their birthdays, he’s all too happy to list out things, without judgement. If he’s honest, he doesn’t do much to celebrate his own birthday either.

You think about the parties you watched as a kid. Piece by piece, you break it down into things you think you’d like.

First and foremost, you wouldn’t mind a cake or some other dessert. Sylus is right on it, suggesting that you both visit a cake shop to figure out what your preferences are before the twins go overboard with a flavor you don’t like. The owners think you’re planning for your wedding. Neither of you correct them.

Second, the games. Whether it’s Kitty Cards or Texas Hold ‘Em, you think it would be fun to play a game or two with Sylus and the twins. Gambling may or may not be involved.

Third, you remember one kid in your youth who was all dressed up in a suit by his parents, all to visit some cheap arcade. You would like to dress up. Sylus chuckles at this one, not because he thinks it’s silly, but because he’s always prepared to have a custom wardrobe built for you. He promises to have a tailor discuss your ideas with you.

As far as birthdays go, it’s nothing crazy outlandish like some of the things Sylus told you people do. At the end of the day, all you really want is to dress up, go to dinner with him (alone), come back to play games with the twins, and have cake. You don’t want the world in the palm of your hands, because you don’t need it. You’ve never wanted it.

Once your desires are laid out, Luke and Kieran calm down a bit. They’re no longer trying to plan this whole big bash, but scheming up ways to win the games against you and Boss, the notorious cheaters that they are. (They’ll never win, but they’re not going down without a fight.)

Mephisto spends the entire time leading up to the day gathering trinkets and withholding them from you. Usually, if he sees something shiny, he brings it straight to you for wordless praise and chin scratches. You know right away what he’s up to. You pretend not to notice for his sake.

Your outfit is ready in less than a week, the cake is baked with all the flavors you enjoyed at the shop, and you couldn’t be happier.

Sylus can’t tear his eyes off of you when you finally reveal your custom attire. Throughout the night, he can’t stop telling you how amazing you look, encouraging you to have more outfits made for future events. The restaurant he chose has a balcony that you two sit on, staring out over a stretch of beach. The ocean breeze carries the bite of salt, refreshing you for the rest of the night ahead.

You tell Luke and Kieran you’ll be home before midnight, but you drag Sylus out to the beach and get sidetracked. He can’t stop smiling as he holds your shoes and watches you run out into the shallow waves. The moon shines on the soft waves behind you, bathing you in an ethereal glow. By the time you do get back to the mansion, your hair is windswept and you have sand everywhere, but you don’t mind at all.

The games are so fun. Luke says you’re cheating by sitting in Sylus’s lap during Kitty Cards, but you gesture for him to sit on Kieran’s lap while he plays. Sylus doesn’t assist you in the game at all; Kieran points out moves and subtly switches the cards in Luke’s hand for the ones hidden up his sleeve. They don’t win a single game.

The cake is beautiful, decorated to perfection and topped with a few candles. You stare at the cursive on top for a moment. When they sing you the song (even Sylus), he notices the distance in your eyes. He kisses the top of your head when the song is over to snap you out of it. You don’t actually make a wish when you blow out the little, flickering flames. There’s nothing you want, and lingering too long trying to figure a wish out only draws the memories of the old man closer to the forefront of your mind.

You cut the first slice. Sylus cuts the rest. He’s not big on sweet things, but he finishes his thin slice anyway. You savor every bite. It’s paradise in your mouth. He has to cut off the twins from having any more, lest they make themselves sick.

Each of them has a present for you. Well, Mephisto has several. He flies to and fro for a while, bringing you little trinkets and shiny things that all pile up on the table. You take the time to look at and admire each one, even sorting them into different groups based on what they are. You wind up with a humorous amount of bottle caps.

Luke gets you a new pair of handguns. Kieran gets you a harness with holsters to hold them in on missions. Sylus gives you a photo album, full of photos from the year you’ve spent together. You sit pressed into his side on the couch and flip through it, page by page. You can see yourself relaxing with each picture. Just a few days after you start working with Sylus, you offer the camera a mischievous smile that doesn’t reflect in your eyes. In the last photo, from a few days ago, you look like a different person; you smile without fear, your guard is let down. The person you were at the gala a year ago has finally found someone to trust.

As the night comes to a close, the twins wish you happy birthday once more before heading off to bed. The mess is left for someone else to deal with. Your presents sit on the table and wait to be put away as Sylus leads you up to what’s become your shared bedroom.

You’re positively glowing. It’s all Sylus can think as you both lay perpendicular over the blankets. Your head rests on his stomach, his fingers trail slowly through your hair, and in just a few hours, the sun will be rising. Yet here you are, too happy to sleep just yet. You want to bask in this feeling a little longer.

You understand now why Luke and Kieran were so enthusiastic, why all those kids from your childhood couldn’t bear the thought of waiting another year for their next birthday, why adults continue to celebrate. You can’t remember the last time you felt a joy like this. It feels all bubbly in your chest, almost surreal, as memories of things that happened just hours ago draw out dopey smiles and lingering giggles. Sylus’s eyes are impossibly soft as he takes you in.

You’re still in the outfit you wore to dinner. He’s still in his suit, sans his jacket. Two pairs of shoes are kicked off carelessly beside the bed. Nothing else matters except right here, right now, soaking in the final vestiges of the night.

He brushes his thumb along your cheek, drawing your eyes to look up at him, that sweet grin still dancing on your face. His fingertips trail featherlight along your jaw, tracing your chin and brushing at your lips. You reach up to hold his hand in place as you kiss his fingers, eyes closing in bliss as you leave pecks down each one, only to leave a lingering kiss to his palm. You look back up at him. He smiles.

“I have one last gift for you,” he says quietly, as if speaking any louder would shatter every window and mirror throughout the entire mansion.

You tilt your head, curiosity drawing your brows together in a silent question. Your smile stays the same. He shifts, helping you sit up so you’re side by side, just facing opposite directions. You watch as his Evol reaches out to the nightstand drawer, pulling out a box and placing it in his awaiting hand. He offers it to you with purpose.

It’s simple, but beautiful nonetheless. Carefully carved wood, rich in color, with a domed lid and rounded edges. It’s about the length of your palm, and no wider than three fingers. A red silk ribbon in a bow ties it together, preventing the hinged lid from being opened. You glance back up at him. He nods toward it.

The silk slips softly through your fingers as you tug on one end of the bow. The knot falls apart, and the ribbon slides onto your lap. You lift the lid and-

You look up at Sylus, eyes wide and mouth agape in shock. He smiles broadly at your reaction. You look back at the present, emotion bubbling up in your chest once more. It feels even more powerful than earlier. Your eyes burn, but you fight back the tears.

Two rings perch side by side within the velvet-lined box. Red jewels decorate golden bands, shimmering in the dim lighting of his bedroom. A matching set. This is far more than just a pair of earrings or cufflinks, this is…

The first tear falls. You hold the box to your chest as you lean toward Sylus. He meets you halfway, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. His broad chest shields you from the rest of the world, hiding the emotions you only allow him to see. Which is wonderful, because you feel so silly, crying over a present like this. He’s given you so much in your time together. Anything you could ever dream of and more - always more. Always trying to make sure you’re happy and comfortable. This is like him giving you the world. You can’t ask for anything greater than that.

“Read the engraving,” he whispers, gently pulling the box from your chest. He holds it while your shaky fingers, usually so steady and sure, pull the smaller ring from the cushion. It takes a minute to see, having to wipe your eyes several times to get rid of the steady flow of tears.

You are my new destiny.

You cover your mouth with your free hand, muffling the sounds that try to escape. It’s usually so easy to be quiet, even under the worst torture. It seems impossible to shut up now.

Sylus pulls your hand away from your mouth, abandoning the box on the bed next to you, and cupping your cheek to wipe away the tears. He kisses your forehead. “May I put it on you?”

You nod immediately. He takes the ring from your trembling fingers and holds your left hand. You watch, entranced, as he slips it onto your pinky. It fits perfectly. The red jewel glimmers, mirror Sylus’s eyes when you look up at him. He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss over the ring.

You giggle, a soft and wet sound. You can feel his smile against your fingers. You’ve never felt so light before.

You turn to the box, using your free hand to carefully take out the larger ring. The band is a bit wider than yours, but the design holding the jewel in place is almost identical. You don’t need to ask or even gesture for him to give you his left hand; he offers it right away, still holding your left hand as he does. You slip the golden ring onto his pinky. Overcome with rapturous emotion, you hold his hand in both of yours and bring it to your lips, kissing the ring just as he had as a quiet, happy sob breeches your lips.

He wraps his arm around you, drawing you to rest against him, your joined hands resting over his erratic heart. His head is ducked down to rest against yours, kisses pressing over the crown of your head. His heart aches in the best way to be granted the opportunity to see you like this.

Your fingers play affectionately with his, thumbing over his ring and massaging his palm. When he returns the favor, brushing over your ring or gathering both of your hands in his just to hold them, you let out airy little laughs that burrow their way into his heart, where they will stay for the rest of time.

You use your right hand to finally wipe the last of your tears away, unwilling to let go of the bond that ties you together. You pull back just enough to look up at his face with a big, beaming grin. He leans his forehead against yours, your noses brushing against each other.

“I love you,” you whisper. It comes out crackly and hoarse, but it sounds like music to his ears.

“I love you, too,” he whispers back. “In every lifetime, I will find you. For the rest of eternity. Always.”

You tilt your chin up to capture his lips. It starts slow, a mere vessel for the vow he made, a seal that forces this change in fate he is creating. It doesn’t take long for it to grow hungry and desperate for each other. Not long at all until he’s cradling your neck, cold metal pressing against your skin, as he lowers you back into the bed, leaning his body over yours and supporting himself so all his weight isn’t crushing you.

“Happy birthday,” he breathes into your mouth, “my beloved.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter

[mikimakiboo]

Time Travelers AU - Bathroom Break

I am baaaaaaaack on the story ! For those who missed it I published everyone's backstory, all are linked in the master post !

@ancha-aus it's been a while since I tagged you here

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I feel like this chapter is way too short compared to the time it took me to write it

Here it was: the moment Dust dreaded the most... going back to work. Not that there was a problem with his job, his colleagues were fine, the customers were usually nice except for some exceptions, but it was to be expected when working in a fast food. No, the thing that worried him was leaving his roommates, because they were basically roommates, alone all day. He wasn't afraid they would fight, thought Nightmare had been quite distant these past few days, he didn't participate in conversations during meals and usually just translated for Killer and asked him a few things, but apart from that he always seemed moody, mad about something and avoiding them. It did worry Dust, maybe it was something he did, or didn't do, that caused the noble to change his behavior ? He'll need to talk about it with him. Regarding the others they all seemed to get along, he noticed Cross would sometimes lower his guard when Killer talked, or rather rambled, to him to listen to what he was saying, which was something important to note as the knight only ever left the door to eat, Dust knew it because he saw him sleeping while still standing. Horror was nice to everyone, just not paying much attention to Nightmare as he seemed to avoid him more than the others anyway, and Killer just liked to chat with everyone, not caring if they understood him or not. So no, Dust wasn't scared they would fight. He was scared they would get bored, get curious and break something or even hurt themselves, that someone would knock at the door and call the cops when seeing them, or many other things they could do that could result in troubles both for them and for Dust. He really didn't need that.

Dust sighed, preparing yet another burger and putting it in a bag for those at the drive through, he didn't need to think about it anymore, the movements were basically muscle memory at that point. Should he introduce the others to burgers ? Maybe he could order everyone a burger once he got his paycheck, and he could buy soda and potatoes to make the fries himself ? Would they even like it ? Nightmare would probably despise the grease, maybe Cross too as he seemed to be very in shape, but he had a feeling Killer and Horror would like it. Well, that could be a plan for later then.

He felt someone tap on his shoulder.

- Break time, I'm taking your place.

His colleague said. Was it already his break ? He didn't see the time pass, for once. Well, he usually didn't have much to think about, so he must admit he wasn't particularly focused on the time that day.

- Oh, okay, thanks.

He finished the burger he was making before putting down his apron and going to the changing rooms to grab his phone in his locker. He then went to the bathroom, not that he needed to go as he was a skeleton, but he liked sitting on the throne in his little cabin, that way he didn't have to sit in the staff's room and make small talk with the others, he could just scroll on his phone for fifteen minutes without being disturbed. He sometimes wished he had a digestive system so he could take a dump on company time and be paid for it, but he didn't have one, anything a skeleton consumed was either turned into magic or would get thrown up if the body couldn't "digest" it. What a shame, honestly.

He wondered for a moment if he should call home on the land-line, but he soon figured it would be useless as he didn't teach them how to pick up a phone, so he just hoped everything was fine and went on socials to see what new brainrot was available to pass the time.

His alarm went off after fifteen minutes, indicating the end of his break. He sighed.

- Alright, here we go again...

He muttered to himself, getting up without flushing, and opened the door to step out of the cabin. He tripped on a branch and fell face first on the grass.

Cross flinched, planting his sword in the ground as to maintain balance when he felt everything shift around him. The house had dissapeared, and he found himself in a field surrounded by a forest. It felt like a few days ago, when he appeared in Dust's backyard, he had felt the air sting and crackle before everything shifted, and when he opened his eyes, he was somewhere else.

Where was he now ? He pulled his sword from the ground, holding it tight in case a threat would appear, and looked around him, were the others here too ? He heard a noise behind him, and quickly turned, only to see Killer gripping on a branch, hanging from a tree. As he was about to run by his side he saw Horror coming out from behind a bush, leaves and twigs stucked in the furr of his coat. Killer saw him too.

- Horrooooooor ! Adiuvaaaaa ! He cried.

Horror jumped, not expecting to hear a voice above him, and quickly went to grab Killer and put him safely on the ground. The Roman then immediately opened his bag to make sure all of his stuffs were with him, and sighed in relief before looking up at the Viking.

- Gratis..

Horror nodded, then looked at Cross.

- Vel ?

He asked, thought Cross didn't understand, but he supposed Horror asked him if he was doing good, as he looked concerned. Cross was doing fine, he wasn't hurt and by chance landed on his feet and on a plain surface, unlike Killer who ended up in a tree.

- Eo vais ben, mercit.

He thanked him, before hearing a spine-chilling scream.

- Google noooooooo !!

All three of them turned quickly, startled, and saw Dust, a little farther, kneeling on the ground with his little magic rectangle in his hands, visibly distressed.

- Dust ? Killer called, bene facis ?

- Google's dead ! Dust cried out, holding his rectangle in the air, it's mort, morz, mortuus, liflátinn, dead !!

Cross froze, who was dead ? Who was so important that Dust had to announce their death in five languages ? Was his rectangle dead ? Wait, wasn't the rectangle what allowed them to communicate ? Oh. They might have a problem then.

They looked at each other for a minute, not knowing how to save the rectangle from death, before Killer went to the wheeping skeleton and kneeled before him, looking through his bag. Dust looked up at him when he took out the thick book Dust had been reading recently: the Old Norse dictionary. Cross remembered Killer shoving the book in his bag when Dust left without it, saying he would keep it safe until he returned. Dust looked at the dictionary in awe, taking it carefully.

- Oh my fucking god, Killer, I love you so much right now, gratis.. !

Killer smiled, happy to have been useful.

As Dust was getting up with Killer's help they heard a new noise, and as they turned, they were met with a rather unusual sight: Nightmare, the very sophisticated Nightmare, was laying face flat in a mud puddle, the only mud puddle in the whole field, and looked particularly horrified, and disgusted, when he stood on his elbows, his face covered with mud. Killer couldn't help but burst out with laughter, especially when Nightmare tried to get up only to slip and fall again. Cross heard Dust fight back his own laughter and Horror chuckled, but even if the scene was indeed funny, Nightmare trully looked distressed, and Cross couldn't leave him like that.

- Sire !

He rushed to his side, helping him up by letting him grab him for balance, not caring if he dirtied his armor as it was rather easy to clean.

- Vous trouvez cela amusant !? Nightmare yelled, angry, and shaking slightly, asking if they found it funny.

Horror raised his hands in an apalogy motion, but Killer was still pretty much dying on the ground, wheezing and holding his non-existant stomach, Dust simply avoiding his gaze. Nightmare huffed, a shameful blush on his cheeks as Cross helped him step out of the puddle and sit on a log nearby as he tried to wipe the mud from his face, taking his gloves off as they were just as muddy anyway.

- Estes-vos blecié, sire ? Cross asked, wanting to know if he was hurt.

Nightmare shook his head, he wasn't hurt, physically at least. Cross nodded, standing straight again to look at the others: Killer had stopped laughing and was now catching his breath, Dust was looking at their surroundings, and Horror was looking at Nightmare, thoughtful, but didn't come any closer.

Now that everyone was here, they needed to think of a plan. They needed to figure out where they ended up, or when, if they could seek shelter somewhere, or if they couldn't and would have to build a sort of nest at least for the night, what they could hunt or gather, take turn to stand guard, ... Horror didn't seem to have his axe with him, which was... rather inconvenient, but he was pretty sure Killer still had his knives in his bag so it meant they were at least two with weapons to defend the group. He looked down at Nightmare again. They had to find water.

He sighed and gestured to everyone to come closer. He would rather they didn't split up.

- Nos devons trover eaue, he said, glancing at Nightmare who was still staring at his hands, senz se séparer, he added, looking back at them.

- Okay wait, Dust stopped him, "eaue" means water, right ? I mean he does need to wash himself so it would make sense he needs water... wait I think I remember the translation... he thought for a while, looking throught the dictionary, okay so.. aqua for Latin ? Aaaand... vatn for Old Norse.

Killer snorted.

- Sordidus est, aqua eget.

Cross wasn't sure what that meant, but judging by Nightmare's glare it most likely was a mockery, or one of the Roman's usual tease at least. He wanted to reprimand him, now wasn't the time for teasing, but Horror was faster than him and gave Killer a gentle nudge on the shoulder, shaking his head disapprovingly, to which Killer whined but didn't push it. Horror then pointed at the woods.

- Vatn.

Before anyone could reply, he opened the way. He had fallen in a bush and heard running water in the distance when he got up, surely there was a river nearby.

- Wait wait wait ! Dust interrupted again, Horror stopping to look at him. We're just gonna accept that we apparently got tossed throught time ? I mean it ain't you guys first time but it is mine ! And I actually have to go back to work !

Cross frowned. Work ? He knew what work meant, but why was Dust talking about work ? Oh, right ! Dust was supposed to be at work ! But he couldn't get back to work now, they didn't even know in what time they were, but surely it wasn't Dust's time anymore as these strange buildings were nowhere to be seen. Cross shook his head, Dust couldn't go back to work for now.

- What do you mean no ? I need the money.

Cross thought for a while, trying to remember the translation for money, and shook his head again.

- Nos sommes denz une altre époque, pas de "work".

He tried to explain, telling him they were in a different time. Dust frowned at him, before sighing.

- Well it's gonna be one fucking long bathroom break then... He mumbled, before following Horror again.

Cross held out a hand for Nightmare but the noble got up by himself, and simply followed the others from a distance, Cross walking behind to make sure no one deviated from the line and no threat appeared.

After only a few minutes they heard running water, and at the next turn around a tree, they saw a small river. Nightmare went to kneel on the shore and put his hands in the water. Killer went next to him, crounching down, and ignoring Nightmare's glare to rummage through his bag and take out a piece of cloth that he handed him. Nightmare looked at it for a while before taking it without saying a word, still bitter that they laughed, and put it in the water to clean his face. Dust stayed near Horror, looking at the trees.

Cross stood back, watching them all, making sure everything was safe for them to stop here.

He really hoped they could find a shelter soon.

[silly-little-soul]

Shane accepting himself as a dad

A/N – “Little” thought dump I wrote at the hairdresser today, I'll probably continue it when I find the time

I haven't played sdv in forever cause I can't find the charger of my switch I miss it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fandom: Stardew Valley (Shane x gn!Reader/Farmer)

Summary: Thoughts on the lead-up to Shane and Jas moving in with you

Tags: established relationship, tbh reader appears like thrice maybe, some fluff, some angst, some reverse comfort, no beta we die like my activity

Warnings: Some talks about alcoholism and mental illness cause it's Shane, a shit lot of miscommunication, brief talk of Shane and Farmer having own kids, death mention

Note: It got too long so I didn't get to the part where reader/farmer would've been more prominent so this is very focused on the dynamic between Shane, Jas and Marnie

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thinking about how in the game when you marry Shane he doesn't take Jas with him

I wish she could live on the farm with you, but let’s actually look at that scenario and Marnie's place in it

Shane is Jas’ official caretaker, but with how his mental health and alcohol consume used to be he definitely wasn’t able to fully take care of her, I’m guessing Marnie did most of that. Like Shane DOES really care for her and did what he could, it just wasn’t enough when he got worse. Simultaneously he saw Marnie care for her the way he wished he could've and it just seemed so effortless (it wasn’t, she was just grieving differently). It made him feel like he could retreat from his parental role, have Marnie take it and stop himself from pulling Jas down with him, he didn’t want to be selfish and put her well-being at risk just to be the one playing parent.

Honestly, he was probably right in that decision, he couldn’t have fully cared for a child.

But it’s different now, he’s better now, he’s ready.

He starts spending more time with her again, no longer feeling like he’s a risk to her, no longer being so ashamed. He takes on tasks like making lunch and bringing her to bed more often.

He doesn’t even notice it until Jas, Marnie or you point it out, might write a scenario for that at some point but let’s move on for now

Anyway, he realizes he’s taken the role of a parent for her. And then you give him the mermaid pendant, and he’s so happy that everything is slowly working out.

When he comes home and tells Marnie she is quick to pull him into a tight hug, she’s so happy he’s managing to really turn his life around.

Jas is so so excited, asking when they'll move to the farm

Shane wants to have her come right with him, he's talked to you about it and you were quick to tell him you'd be happy to have her, but he realizes he should really talk to Marnie about that first.

So they kinda just redirect her question.

Later though they sit together and talk about the upcoming change of Shane's living situation.

At Shane’s declaration of wanting to take Jas right with him, Marnie is hesitant and gently suggests that might not be the best idea.

Shane believes it’s because Jas has become a daughter to her, something he actively pushed to happen by making her take all responsibility for the little girl (and for him too, actually), and he figures he doesn’t really have the right to take Jas from her after she has been the one taking care of her for so long.

Except that isn’t the reason at all. Marnie has never seen herself as Jas’ mom. She loves Jas a lot of course and she’ll surely miss her a lot once she moves, but she has never not seen Shane as the one to be Jas’ new parent.

She wants this for both Shane and Jas, but she’s just so worried. She’s seen Shane at his worst and all that has lead up to it, seen him almost get better but then fail again more often than she’d like to have.

She’s honestly more worried about Shane than Jas. What if Shane takes on too much responsibility at once? His new role as a husband, the changes that come with living on the farm, and then he'll also be fully responsible for Jas? She's worried he'll end up feeling overwhelmed and get worse again. And then if Jas sees it this time, oh gosh... (Okay, maybe it is about Jas)

Now bear with me it's about to get a little confusing

Shane doesn't know that's the reason, Marnie doesn't tell him outright to not upset him.

So when she brings up the hint of “are you sure? She can stay here some longer too” he thinks it's because of her relationship with Jas and he's just like “yeah y'know maybe that works” because he doesn't want to take Jas from her after making Marnie take care of her so long, however she thinks it's because he really does think it'd be too much at once.

So they're like “okay good talk” and go their ways and while Marnie is like “okay cool I'll help some more till he feels able to care for her fully” Shane is knocking on your door having half a breakdown like “I fucked up I'll never get to take on the role of her father”

On a side note, he went to the farm and not the saloon, and both of you have a brief moment of gratitude for the fact so let's take a second to appreciate him for that too

Alright, he has been appreciated

But yeah, I kinda hc their communication isn't great in general. It's not for lack of trying (not anymore, it used to be a factor when Shane wasn't doing well) or something causing arguments, it's more so a thing where the two talk and then think everything is fine when they in reality have talked past each other so hard.

It's usually silly, small stuff like chores or something and resolved with a quick clarification and doesn't cause issues – except this time it did.

Anyway, he's at your doorstep, kinda having a breakdown.

You let him in of course, get him some water, gently tell him to calm down and tell you what happened.

His explanation is not very coherent, consisting mainly of him repeating how he fucked up, it might very well spiral into a full on panic attack.

Shane's not usually someone to panic but this is about Jas, who is the most important thing in the world to him, not to forget the only way he knew how to cope is kind of gone.

After a while he manages to explain what's going on more clearly, how he so badly wants to care for Jas the way he should have from the start, but he can't because he made mistakes he can't fix, how Marnie has taken that role and is entirely reasonable in wanting to keep it.

Then he breaks down again.

You don't really know what to do, he's in a terrible state, and what can you say? If the situation was truly how Shane presented it (which you assumed of course) there wouldn't really be much you could do to help.

You end up calling his therapist, he's against the idea at first but caves at your pleading look.

He's put you in situations in which you had to try help him with no idea how to before, hell he's made you fear for his life with this kind of bullshit before! He doesn't want you to go through that again.

In the beginning you sit with him, help explain to his therapist what happened, let Shane lay his head on your chest while talking to her.

When after a while he is much calmer you go make his favorite dinner, waiting for him to finish the phone call.

They make an appointment for Saturday and Shane hangs up, wordlessly coming over to you and letting himself fall into your arms. You have dinner and go to bed, deciding it's better for him to stay with you tonight, and maybe also the next few day. You'll figure out how to go on about this on Saturday.

Meanwhile Marnie has no idea about all of this and tells Jas about the decision (she thinks) they made, how Shane will move to the farm but needs some time to “settle in” as she calls it, and then Jas can move there too later on.

She's bummed about not getting to come along right away but is generally okay with the idea, not much bothered.

This whole misunderstanding is only really revealed when Jas and Shane cross parts the next time. This could be several days later, or the next one which I'm gonna go with.

Unfortunately for Shane, Jas was already planned to come to the farm that day to “help” (aka pet your animals) so she shows up there in the morning and it's. A bit awkward. Not that she'd notice, though.

Inevitably the topic of Shane moving to the farm comes up. It's in bypassing, it doesn't really matter how, but it causes even more chaos.

She says something about how she'll miss him when he moves to the farm, which feels like a punch in the gut to him, cause he doesn't even know she just means in the short while till he gets her over there too.

He tries not to let it show in front of her, it's not her fault, so he tries to play over his reaction by saying something along the lines of “I'll miss you too, but you and Marnie can come visit. If the farmer and me start a family you can come over and-”

And like damn. Not the best thing he could've said in that situation.

Cause up until just know she thought she was coming after him like a month or something later!

Jas' eyes fill with tears and she has such a look of betrayal on her face Shane doesn't even finish his sentence.

“You don't want me here?”

And he's just like fuck lol

In retrospect he doesn't actually know what Marnie told Jas and how she explained the decision to her. Thinking about it she probably didn't exactly go “Hey actually Shane used to be a good for nothing alcoholic so I decided I'm your mom”

But wait, does Jas want to stay with him on the farm?

Because yeah wait!! He did not consider that and how she feels about this.

Meanwhile Jas is now also a victim of the miscommunication between Marnie and Shane (aren't we all?)

Before Shane can think of something to say she's bolting, running back home.

You - who watched the interaction happen - and Shane go after her, coming to the ranch to find Jas crying in her bed with Marnie sitting next to her and trying to coax her into explaining what happened. When she sees you she moves away from her, figuring you two must have a better idea of what's going on.

Shane takes Marnie's place and asks Jas why she's crying.

She looks up at him with a heartbreaking expression and says “You said you'll start a family, but what about me?” (not rlly like that but I suck at dialogue)

And Shane is like “Marnie is your family”

I love him but.... shut up, Shane!!

That blow was so hard both you and Marnie could feel it!

In his defense, he realizes that was dumb as fuck like immediately after.

“I mean... fuck, she's been a mom for you so long, way more than I ever was, I can't just take you away now”

And Marnie stiffens cause like that's the moment it starts dawning on her something didn't go quite right in their earlier communication. And then you notice her reaction and it starts dawning on you as well and you kinda just look at each other like “oh shit”.

Which Shane and Jas are completely unaware of.

“She's not my mom! I don't want her to by my mom”

And Jas is honestly really irritated by Shane's interpretation of their family dynamic because yeah Marnie has taken care of her a long time and she's really close to her of course but she still never saw her as something other than her aunt, just like Marnie always considered Jas her niece.

“Why don't you want to be my dad?”

It's sort of a breaking point for all four of you.

For Shane it feels like in a matter of seconds he's reliving every moment since the day Jas' parents died. They chose him as the one who'd take in Jas if something happened to them. They could've decided on Marnie, but they didn't. In that moment he realizes that maybe his fear of this parental role he really did want to take not being rightfully his was never about Marnie to begin with.

At the same time, Marnie and you decide to finally intervene. She gently pulls him towards the door, telling him they have to talk, meanwhile you sit with Jas to comfort her.

You let her climb into your lap and hug her, just holding her and waiting for Marnie and Shane to finish talking, until she speaks up again quietly

“Do you not want me on the farm?”

And you're of course immediately telling her you do!! You want her there, you consider her family and she goes “I think Shane doesn't” and like no he does!! He's just stupid!

Except you don't say that to her of course cause don't say that to her.

Meanwhile Marnie is torn between hugging Shane because man he's apparently spent years thinking he has no place as her parent and scolding him cause how the fuck did he spend years thinking he has no place as her parent.

It ends up being the scolding (gently though, she does get where he was coming from).

She explains everything to him, from exactly how she feels about Jas to what she meant when she suggested to have Jas stay with her.

“You're her father now. Her parents chose for you to be and she did too. You're her dad, and nothing you or I do can change that”

And it's wild because he realizes he has always refused those titles. He always talked about his parental role or his role as a father, yeah, but he's never dared call himself her dad. But he is, isn't he?

They have a long talk and Shane learns his place in the family was never a question, while Marnie has her anxiety over Shane taking on too much at once calmed.

They settle on Jas staying at the ranch on weekdays and the farm on weekends for the first month, so he can settle and you can get used to having a child around all the time. After that she'll move to the farm entirely, with the promise to have her stay at Marnie's a bit if Shane ever feels like it's too much for him.

He goes back to Jas' room to explain everything to her and tell her she'll of course come along to his new life.

And when he opens then door he sees you sit with Jas – with his daughter - in your arms, petting her hair comfortingly and he's like yeah.

That's his family.

[animeyanderelover]

Can I also request the marly guys (zeke, reiner,colt and porco) with an escaping s/o please? If it's to many people you don't have to write for colt or zeke. Thank you

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, toxic relationship, obsessive behavior, delusional mindset, manipulation, threats, blackmailing

Tags: @shumidehiro

Escaping s/o

Zeke Yeager

🚬​He's probably been aware of your silly plans for a while now but has never spoken up about it as he instead chooses to wait and see how it turns out. Whilst you are making your own plans though, Zeke is gearing up to counter them as he does his own work. Two can play the game after all and if you are conjuring up schemes behind his back, he will return the favor. After all the Titan Shifter is fairly confident that he will win this as he has the intelligence and the influence. The moment you finally put your plan in motion, Zeke is already prepared for everything and the whole thing ends soon in your undeniable defeat. He visits you later as you were put under custody until he arrives and it is then that he explains to you that he has been aware of your plot for a while now. He could have stopped you obviously as soon as he had his suspicions but he thought that it would perhaps be better to let you see and feel that you would do better to stop such shenanigans in the future as you stand no chance against him. The next time you come up with such a hoax, he won't amuse you any longer. This is the first and last time he played such a game with you.

Reiner Braun

🟤​Even if Reiner were to discover hints of your plans, he would most likely refuse to believe them. This guy is quite dependent on his darling after all the trauma and pain he had to endure and he is quite desperate for them to love him too which is why he is extremely overbearing. The first stage is just denial when he finds out that you have actually ran away from him as he instead tries to come up with excuses for what you have done all because he doesn't want to accept the truth. You couldn't! You would never do that! The moment the truth comes crashing down though, Reiner has a meltdown and starts bawling his eyes out. He is a mess and it needs the likes of Pieck and Porco to shake him out of his misery. He isn't far away from transforming into his Titan and chase after you but luckily he is stopped by his comrades as well as the last bit of consciousness that there are people important to him living here. Some more amicable soldiers of Marley agree to help him and he himself joins them, though he looks only seconds away from another meltdown. He's going to scream, cry and beg for them to never do this again as he locks them away in his house from that day on, his trust broken.

Porco Galliard

🌫️​Porco should technically not be surprised if you should attempt to escape from him. After all it is no secret to him that he has forced you into an engagement as well as marriage without even considering your wishes in it. Yet when it actually happens, there is still the disappointed anger as he can't help but think that even if he did all of that, it ultimately enabled you a better life. His anger only heightens the longer you are gone as he even snaps at Marley soldiers despite knowing how his kind is viewed by them. He doesn't fully trust them either so he goes on a separate pursuit to go after you and the moment you are found, you will not be spared of his ire. He's pissed as he yells at you, insult after insult leaving his lips as he calls you an ungrateful thing and points out how he has done nothing but better the situation for you and your family alike. Briefly he considers threatening you to take all the privileges away for you and your family but that would only be really possible through divorce and he would never consider that. He either locks you away like Reiner does or actually goes the extra step and asks the Marley soldiers to imprison you for a while so that you realize how good you have it with him.

Colt Grice

◻️Oh, the poor lad would be absolutely heartbroken. After all he has done nothing but protect and dote on them. Sure, he has done some things he is not too overly proud of such as also pushing you into an engagement but he shares similar motives to Porco as he wants to ensure your protection as soon as he becomes the next Titan Shifter. He is in denial and honestly, he remains stuck in disbelief even as he goes after you until you are caught and he sees you again. The spiteful and frustrated look you give him is finally enough to smash reality right against his chest. Why...? Why would you do this to him? His mind is racing, although all thoughts scatter before he can even properly form them as he tries to dig up something that he can say to you as he stares at you but no words ever leave his lips in that moment. His trust has been smashed and is left in pieces and he doesn't know what to do around you for a while as he has to stomach the realisation that the relationship is perhaps more threatened than he ever would have wanted to think. He would probably find himself turning to your family who, given the opportunities he gives you and them, would most likely shame you for your attempt.

[angelpuns]

50Au Part 12!

The walk was longer than he remembered. Then again, he usually portaled there, so it feeling like a million years was understandable. Not to mention how exhausted and beat up he was at this point. 

Leo wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up in his bed and not move for a long, long time, but that just was not an option right now. He wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, not with those guys still in a cage in his home. 

He'd ensured they couldn't get out, but their presence was not gonna do anything good for his nightmares. 

It was perhaps the only thought that kept him moving. Maybe he could call the Hidden City police, though he was pretty sure this was beyond their jurisdiction. They'd always been fucking useless anyhow. 

It took him around two hours to get to Run of the Mill, his knees stinging and his feet aching. He had to be a good distance from the lair now, and those fools couldn't track him here. 

Besides, they probably didn't even know the Hidden City existed, so there. He still wasn't totally safe, but it was better than nothing. 

It was busy tonight, even if Leo wasn't sure what tonight really was. He'd lost his phone at some point and there was a distinct lack of clocks here. Clocks that he could actually read, anyway. 

Leo limped the rest of the way to a random booth and slumped into the seat, not even bothering to glance at the menu. He always got the same thing, though he doubted anyone here ever remembered. He was a regular, but a forgettable one, no doubt. 

The table was cool to the touch, making him shiver as he leaned onto it. He hadn't realized how cold it was outside. He really should have grabbed a jacket or something. 

It felt nice on his stinging palms, though, so he rested them flat on the table and let his eyes shut for just a moment. 

It only felt a like a second, but he must have spaced out, because someone was shaking his shoulder a second later.  

“ -nardo? Leonardo?”

He blinked blearily, the light piercing his eyes and making him belatedly remember his probable concussion. He shouldn't be dozing off. Probably. Thinking was hard right now. 

The person shaking him was a waiter, their dark eyes concerned and their nose twitching faintly. Right, that rabbit waiter. Leo saw him in here all the time. 

He glanced at his nametag and tried to play up his whole face-man thing. Even if flirting didn't feel like a good idea right now, this guy was very, very cute. And he was only a little delirious, so he totally meant it. 

“ Well hey there,” Leo murmured, flinching when he heard how raw his throat was. Right, hadn't eaten or drank anything all day. His eyes flicked down to the waiter's name tag, “ Yuichi, huh? Pretty name.”

The rabbit blinked, before rolling his eyes with a fond smile and pulling away from him. Leo held back a whine at the loss of warmth. He was still cold, somehow, even in the warm restaurant. But he literally just met this guy, no need to be desperate just yet. He wasn't totally on his game, but he was trying. 

“ Oh, I see what you're doing. Fine, I'll play along,” The waiter chuckled, flipping open his notepad and clearing his throat, “ Thank you, sir. What would you like to order?” 

Kinda weird, but weirder stuff was happening to him today, so he just smiled a little and gave his order. 

“ Medium pizza with extra pineapple, light ham and light banana peppers,” Leo rattled off, “ and a water, please”

The rabbit pretended to write it down. He wasn't even holding a pencil.

 Oooookay, that was weird. 

“ What kind of order is that?” Yuichi scoffed, “pretty sure only freaks order pineapple on their pizza,” 

Leo blinked in surprise, jaw agape as he stared at the waiter. He'd never been treated like this here. Usually it was just friendly smiles and decent service. 

“...what?” 

Yuichi didn't let up, chuckling, “what, can't handle a little pizza topping judgement, turtle?”

Leo stood up suddenly, head reeling and stomach swooping when he did. He steadied himself on the table and shot a glare at the waiter, “What the hell, man? Can't you tell I've had a shitty day? I was bein' friendly, the least you could do is take my order like a normal person!” 

The restaurant went quiet for a moment, the waiter's face morphing back into concern. 

“ Woah, woah- What's going on Bluebird?” Yuichi lowered his voice, and the ambient noise Of the other customers seemed to come back a moment later, but not nearly as loud as before.  

“I wanna see your manager. I don't give a shit if I sound like a Karen, you're being an asshole,” Leo whined, not daring to sit back down. Even if he felt like a strong wind might knock him over, “ All you had to do was take my fucking order, man” 

And maybe Leo was being a tad more aggressive. He didn't like being mean to waiters if he could help it, but cut him a break, he was fucking hungry and tired and in pain. And cold. He wanted to eat his pizza in peace, and this guy was being an ass for no reason. 

“Okay, okay. I'll get Hueso, just- don't move.” Yuichi slipped his notebook into his pocket and turned, hurrying for the kitchen. 

Good. He was pretty sure that was the owner. Even better. God he felt like such a fucking Karen right now, but he didn't really wanna deal with an asshole waiter judging his pizza toppings and his head hurt and- 

And he didn't have his wallet. Fuck. 

Leo stared at the table, unsure whether he just flee or just deal with the consequences of his actions. He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. It was better than dealing with what was at the lair right now and he was so fucking hungry. 

Maybe the owner, this Hueso guy, would let him wash dishes in exchange or something. 

Minutes later, the skeleton-man-owner of the restaurant walked out from the kitchen and started for Leo's table. Leo sat back down with an exhausted sigh.

He'd been aiming for an apology, but now he was gonna pathetically beg this man for some food instead. Not his best look, but he did have money, it was just at home. With the strangers. That were no doubt pissed he'd locked them in a cage. 

“Pepino? What's going on? Yuichi said you're acting weird and-”

Leo bristled, whipping his head around to look at him. 

“ did you just call me a cucumber?” He hissed, head reeling with the motion, “what is with you all's customer service today? I'm already having a shit day and then I have to come here and be insulted? do you give all your customers terrible nicknames?”

The skeleton man blinked at him for a moment, seemingly confused at Leo's anger. Wouldn't anyone be angry if they were insulted? 

“I…Leonardo, what is wrong?” He stepped closer, hands held up placatingly, “ do we need to call your brothers or-”

“I DON’T HAVE ANY BROTHERS, WHY IS EVERYONE-” Leo slammed his fist onto the table, resting his head in the cool surface with a grimace. Everything hurt. He was so hungry. He wanted to go home. 

He let out a choked sigh, the need to cry building up into something dangerous. No, no he wasn't gonna embarrass himself any further. 

“ can…can I please just get my order…I’ll..I'll figure out someway to pay for it, I promise, I'm just so fucking hungry…” He murmured, muffled by his head on the table. 

There was a bit of hesitation, before Hyeso spoke again. 

“ of course, right away. Do not worry about paying, we will put it- we will make you a tab,” He seemed nervous. Good. Leo was gonna leave a bad yelp review. 

No, that was mean. It wasn't their fault he was having a shitty, shitty day. 

Footsteps faded back to the kitchen, but he still felt a presence. The waiter cleared his throat. 

“I’m so sorry sir, it won't happen again. I…i hope you feel better,” He too sounded hesitant, before walking away with much softer steps. 

Leo shut his eyes and kept his head down. If only for a minute. He was so tired. So hungry. Everything hurt so bad. 

He just wanted to go home and curl up in bed and forget this whole day had ever happened.

-----

I think this one is the longest part so far? Anyway surprise Leosagi in here. They aren't dating but they do be besties that flirt with each other.

I do wanna clarify that the reason he's also forgotten these two is that he sees then as 'family/family-adjacent' so yeah :) I do have more thoughts on this but yeah.

Part 1 | Part 11 | Part 13

[suzukiblu]

I kind of want to try your method of posting wips a snippet at a time while writing them, but on the other hand I am nervous about it. Can you give me some advice?

I've been trying to nail down the mixed feelings, and this is what I've got so far:

for:

it will get eyes on my fics faster, and I can show off what I've written sooner, instead of needing to finish a whole chapter

it will encourage engagement both in reacting to specific posts and in asking for more

it will be more chances for people to be intrigued and want to read the whole fic

against:

what if I do it and nobody cares?

til now I've been releasing fics a chapter at a time and it would feel weird to change that. inertia and all

what do I do if/when I change something I've written and already posted a snippet of?

it feels weird to post them on my writing blog, which currently only holds finished chapters (and fanart), but if I post them on my main, I feel like they'll get lost and/or I'll miss reactions in my busy activity channel. Where should I post it to? Should I make yet another sideblog?

in direct response to your listed mixed feelings, in my personal experience of writing this way:

for:

it will get eyes on my fics faster, and I can show off what I've written sooner, instead of needing to finish a whole chapter: yes it will, and it feels great! and personally it also helps me keep momentum and helps soften the sting if I drop a fic/chapter later and people don't have much to say about it. I KNOW it's good, other people already told me they liked it!! no, I'm not gonna throw out the whole story because of one mediocre reception, SHUT UP IMPOSTER SYNDROME AND GET BACK IN THE WRITING TRENCHES.

it will encourage engagement both in reacting to specific posts and in asking for more: yes it does, and WAY more people consistently (and more gratifyingly!) engage with me since I've made a habit of posting this way, especially when they're especially interested in a specific WIP over my other ones, and a lot of people just seem to be more engaged and invested in my writing in general. or at least more willing to tell me that they are, if nothing else, haha.

it will be more chances for people to be intrigued and want to read the whole fic: yes it will, and if you post larger scenes and tag them, then more people are likelier to find you/your writing than would if you only post one chapter in the tags however often you update those. also, if you have a fic-specific WIP tag that you link to, it's very easy for people who are just discovering the WIP to go back and catch up all at once ( or for people who aren't into it to blacklist, if that's a concern, as opposed to them feeling like they have to unfollow/block you ).

against:

what if I do it and nobody cares? good news: they probably won't care! at least to start. that's just kinda how it is, to start. I get a lot of engagement because I am REAL prolific and do my best to be responsive, plus I've been updating this blog and in this specific fandom pretty consistently for over a year, and also have also been in online fandom spaces on and off for, like, legit twenty-five years at this point. so I am just very used to being in these spaces, and I also have readers who've followed me for a decade+ or even since I was an actual literal TEENAGER in at least a couple cases, so like, they're already kinda invested in my writing, haha. there are people following this blog who not only read my Inu-Yasha Miroku/Sesshoumaru fanfic back in the day in the Pit of Voles but also still REMEMBER reading my Inu-Yasha Miroku/Sesshoumaru fanfic back in the day in the Pit of Voles, to say nothing of everyone who found me through AtLA or the MCU or the Witcher ( or so, so much Star Wars meta, the Star Wars meta has also definitely been a thing ). also I update my blog pretty consistently and I do writing memes that reward the people who play with me with new content and more progress in their fave WIPs, and also they're technically "voting" for what they wanna see more of, so that also adds to them feeling engaged/invested and me feeling motivated/energized, because they feel like they've affected the growth and progress of the story ( which they have ) and I feel like they're enjoying the story and genuinely appreciate it ( which they do! ). so everyone wins!

til now I've been releasing fics a chapter at a time and it would feel weird to change that. inertia and all: yeah that is the sunk-cost fallacy trying to fuck you up and you can and should tell it to fuck off. if you try it and you don't like the change, you can just stop doing it. you're free! no one can stop you!! hit the bricks, do your thing, the past is gone and it is NOT in charge of your ass! your ass is all yours!! whatever, we do what we want! I am in fact giving you explicit PERMISSION to do what you want.

what do I do if/when I change something I've written and already posted a snippet of?: then you've changed something! if it's a major change, you can repost the updated scene or mention you're making a change in a separate post or just say there's been a significant change when you post the chapter and therefore people who've already read the WIP posts might wanna reread it, but personally I change and tweak and fiddle with stuff I've already posted all the time. usually it's just bits of phrasing or formatting or adding in little details to round stuff out or correct mistakes, or to clarify things that confused people or that I forgot about, but sometimes it's adding multiple paragraphs or even additional little scenes. it's absolutely a thing I do and a thing that I consider fair play. you're literally posting "work-in-progress" excerpts, it is in the NAME that stuff might/will change or be adjusted. shit, if you feel like it, throw the whole story out and start over with a 2.0 WIP tag!! art is meant to be fucked with!!!!

it feels weird to post them on my writing blog, which currently only holds finished chapters (and fanart), but if I post them on my main, I feel like they'll get lost and/or I'll miss reactions in my busy activity channel. Where should I post it to? Should I make yet another sideblog?: the past is gone! you are free!! it's a writing blog that is for your writing and you can write whatever you want on it. the rules are made up and the points don't matter!! if you want a WIP blog too, you can totally start a WIP blog too, but you also don't have to feel obligated to bloat your sideblog collection or to have to go to all the effort of building up a brand-new following for a brand-new blog when there's already people who followed another blog of yours specifically for your writing. it's your writing blog. it's for your writing. write on it how you please!! if you're SUPER-concerned about the change, include a specific tag on all your WIP snippets that people can just blacklist if they only wanna see your full finished updates. for example I use "rintalk" so people can skip my random talky posts/asks if they wanna but also won't accidentally be filtering out anything they DO wanna see from anyone else on their dash; they can specifically avoid just mine. so like, maybe "octo WIPs" or "nb WIPs" or just whatever you're into would work for you, or just something like that.

unrelated to your for/against: posting stuff like this is not an approach that'll give everyone the same results or even WORK for everyone, obviously, but it works for me because again, I'm prolific, responsive, tend to follow my readers' interests, and have been doing this a lonnnggggg time and have built up an audience both from past fandoms and in specifically DC fandom. and also I'm super, super ADHD. definitely also because of the ADHD. there is . . . there is just so much ADHD lol.

but yeah, like, I'm pretty sure I've been updating pretty consistently for the past . . . what, year or so of DC-hyperfixation? something like that?? I've also published over 300k to AO3 in that time and GOD knows how much more word count I've put up on Tumblr, so like . . . tl;dr, I absolutely think you should give it a try and see if it works for you/if you like it, I just also wanna include the caveat that you shouldn't be discouraged if you don't get an immediate return on or big response to said try. like, I dunno what your followers are like or how much they talk to you, obvi, but I personally had to kind of . . . cultivate, basically? I had to cultivate the communication and the back-and-forth, it didn't just happen immediately. we have cultivated, all of us here, hahaha.

for actual practical excerpt-posting advice, generally speaking, the best start I've found for starting out with posting a WIP as you write it is to take, like, the starting scene of the fic/chapter up until either a narratively-interesting/satisfying end point ( or better yet, a cliffhanger ) and post that as a WIP excerpt in the relevant tags. then you're likelier to introduce the story to new people and bring them by your blog to see more, and they'll come in both primed for and LOOKING for WIP excerpts. then, you know, you can post subsequent scenes or bits in chronological order, ideally. personally when I do WIP Wednesday or anything like that, I don't tag little posts like those in the main tags, just with a WIP tag specific to their story ( which, like, obvi you know I have those, haha, I know you've been around MORE than long enough and even if you hadn't pretty sure I already mentioned them somewhere up there anyway, I'm just being thorough ), but anything that's pushing 400-500 words or longer gets fully tagged with ships/characters/fandom/etc and gets chrono/non-chrono links included in the post and then sent out into the world as my lil' story ambassador, haha. just, you know, use a cut or at least a "long post" tag if it's much longer than that, because like, Tumblr manners and all, hah.

ummmmm . . . so yeah idk how much of that was helpful for you, obviously, but if you have follow-up questions or anything, feel free to hit me up, I'm always down for those and I'll do my best to answer!

[erinwantstowrite]

Hi!!!! I Love love love your fic, and I have a question! An inquiry if you must lol. I was reading the tags again, and I noticed the skip Westcott tag. Are you going to approach the topic? Like, other than Peter suffering that trauma, when he eventually opens up to the bat family, will he talk about it?? Will dick talk about his own experience with Tarantula? I'm so excited to see your take since you put some hints that skip was maybe his caretaker at some point? Like foster dad or maybe I'm genuinely just tripping and mixing with other fics.

ALSO incredibly excited to see what happened to him with the experiments!!! It's extremely vague but im so needing that angst!!!! I really want to see more of Peter's life before coming to Gotham, before even meeting Tony!

hiii!! ty for the love!! :)

i spent ages looking for an ask i got a while ago about this topic but i can't find it for some reason? so if anyone is able to find it for me, i'd like to link it to this post and i'd appreciate the help!!

EDIT: perpetuallypanicky found the post!

(warning for under the tag: talking about Skip Westcott and Tarantula, which covers the topic of SA. please take care of yourself)

Peter will eventually talk about Skip Westcott. I can't say how much he says because I haven't actually written the conversation yet, but at the moment, it's more alluded to that it is talked about. It's a conversation for way later in another part of the series I have planned for LoF, which actually has an entire plotline about Peter's past and how it connects to his future. But he will open up and talk about it at some point. I think in the road trip arc (chapter 15 I think?) I have it planned for Peter to talk about Skip in some context with Dick (mainly, he tells Dick the most he's ever told anyone about the day he was bit by the spider), but not fully.

(And if that changes, it will 100% be warned in the beginning with the other trigger warnings I put in beginning chapter notes.)

That's mostly because Peter still hasn't processed that yet. He hasn't even told his therapist (I briefly mentioned a few times in Peter's POV's that he has gone to therapy, but I should probably make sure it's known that he doesn't go so often that he's gotten through the biggest parts of his past).

As for Tarantula... I talked about this in the Lost Post (this thing disappeared???) so I should probably mention it again. But Tarantula did NOT happen in this au.

There's a huge reason for it, and that's because I hate Devin Grayson, the writer who put that shit in there. I don't want her attached to LoF in any form, even if I'm writing to bash it.

That's not saying that Dick isn't still a survivor of SA. He's still going to have that be a part of his past as well, with some of the other instances. (There's another instance with Catwoman that's just... no.) So I'm not erasing that part of his history. I just hate Devin Grayson.

Which means that when Dick does find out (and he will), there's gonna be a big reaction. For the most part, when it comes to What Happened, I won't be going into details, nor flashbacks, stuff like that. It'll be about the impact of those times, and how Peter and Dick are recovering, though they do talk about it.

Also, Skip was Peter's last foster parent before Tony, you're right. He's probably just a little older than Dick, I'd say, around mid thirties? He was responsible for Peter for a little while but Peter ended up running away that day he got bit, and Skip hasn't fostered since.

And as for the experiments: I'm excited to write about it more. Peter and Dick also talk about this, and in some more detail than the Westcott talk. It's about time that Dick learned how Tony got Peter's complete trust,,,, a little sneak peak into that,,,, :)

There's actually so much about Peter's backstory that I sometimes wonder if there's things that I wouldn't be able to get to in LoF... It just means that I've been considering writing a prequel one day

[lxnarphase]

do you have any advice for new writers who want to start posting on tumblr?

Oh man, I'm gonna give you a list of things I wish I could've told myself when I first started posting.

Some Basic Tips:

Don't be scared to post! You'll never see growth in your followers, mutuals, and even your writing if you don't post!

Be open to asking others for help or advice if you struggle with writing. I sometimes ask some of my mutuals for help or read fanfiction to see how others write a scene. Then, I take the knowledge and write it in my own way. For example, I do well with writing dialogue but find myself always struggling with how to start the story.

Don't be afraid to post about non-writing things, too! Remember, you deserve to have fun on your account, so post what you want. You aren't a machine. You are a person!

The number of notes you get doesn't determine your worth or skill in writing. In my opinion, Tumblr has shifted a bit, making it harder for smaller writers to get likes, reblogs, or comments on their works.

But at the end of the day, in order to enjoy being a writing blog on Tumblr, you have to enjoy what you are writing and posting. Do not feel like you have to force yourself to write just for the numbers, let it happen naturally. Things will start out slow at first, as all things do, but you'll get to a point where you can barely keep up with things.

Post and Blog Formatting + Style:

Formatting is really important! Break up paragraphs, ask a friend to be a beta reader, and for longer works, go back and proofread if you have the time! It's okay if you have minor mistakes, though. I tend to miss things in my writing, and when I return a week later, I just fix them. No big deal!

Nowadays, aesthetics is HUGE for fanfiction posts and your account. Channel your creativity and style! Make your blog super pretty in your own way! It can be pink and cutesy, black and edgy, simple and clean, or colorful and cluttered! Don't have a blank blog!

PUT YOUR AGE CLEARLY SOMEWHERE! In your bio, pinned post, SOMEWHERE IT IS EASY TO SEE. I have had writing accounts follow me but no age, so I don't feel comfortable engaging with them.

You can take inspiration from other accounts (don't outright copy, though) on how they format their fanfictions. You will probably notice a lot of accounts have headers, dividers, or colored text. You can do that too, as it can catch the readers attention.

I get headers from doujins and mangas I read, websites such as Pinterest are good for cute ones, and Twitter is your go-to for more NSFW headers.

Create a tagging system to make navigating your blog easier, and have a pinned post with links to your rules/byf/masterlist/etc.

Try to put warnings in your writing. A lot of people have filters on to avoid the types of content they don't want to see, but there are the occasional people who don't put warnings in the writing post itself. It could be a simple tag or a list of themes at the beginning of the post.

An example would be a post with the tag #dubcon #tw dubcon OR putting "cw: dubcon" in the post itself before the writing itself.

This is a tag vs. in the actual post

Tagging and Reblogs

Speaking of tags, USE THE TAGGING SYSTEM! If you don't tag your post with popular fanfiction tags, it will be hard for people to find you.

Only the first twenty tags will show up in Tumblr search, including your own blog. Reblogs will not show up in tracked tags or searches.

However, don't feel bad for reblogging your own works again. Do it as many times as you want. You created something and should feel proud of it! I still reblog things from January just because.

Making Mutuals

Don't be afraid to engage with other accounts. That's how you make friends on here! But here's something important:

Be genuine. Make mutuals because you enjoy each other's work, AND both have fun talking with each other! If someone doesn't add you back as a mutual, that is okay; don't feel like they have something against you! Making mutuals shouldn't be your only goal when posting on Tumblr. Otherwise, you might tire yourself out mentally. It took me a while to make mutuals on here, but I'm glad it did it naturally instead of trying to force it.

Asks and Anons

Once you build a following, you will get the most wonderful, loving, and supportive anons in your inbox! Cherish them, respond to them, and have fun with them! Because there is a very high chance, you will also get assholes in your inbox.

I say this from the bottom of my heart but do NOT give hateful people your attention because that is what they thrive on. I still get them, but when I tell you I am at so much peace, I block and delete the messages and carry on.

If a certain message bothers me for a bit, then I just take a little break, talk to some friends about what happened, and do what helps me calm down so I don't act rashly. Don't be afraid to turn off anonymous messages for a while. This is YOUR blog, not theirs.

Don't feel pressured to answer every ask or fulfill every request. Take your time because that can burn you out! I love socializing so much, but sometimes I just pull a blank on how to respond to my asks. I always ensure my mutuals and followers know that I'm not ignoring them and just tend to go blank-brained with some asks, OR I save some of them to look at when I'm sad!

Overall, just start and DO IT FOR YOURSELF.

That's the best advice for when you want to make anything. You just have to start posting and learning and improving as you go on. Hopefully, this will sort of help. I know it's not the best list of advice, but it's just some things I would tell myself back when I first started.

If you have any other questions, I can try my best to answer them!

[abstractnaturaldisaster]

is it over now? (was it over then?)

part one

part two: if she's got blue eyes, i will surmise that you'll probably date her

Eddie had felt completely numb after leaving Steve's apartment. He wasn't really interested in doing anything with his band even though they definitely owed the studio a new album but Eddie wasn't feeling inspired after the abrupt departure of his most recent muse.

He didn't want to be that guy who wrote songs about his exes or aired dirty laundry in public through cryptic lyrics. It worked for other people but his band's vibe was a lot more fantasy and concept albumy and he couldn't quite find the energy to allegorize his current heartbreak. This is where the reality of the music industry really sucked because at some point their label didn't give a shit about Eddie's need to wallow and his manager could only negotiate so many extensions.

Thankfully, all previous qualms he had with writing about his ex and their breakup ended when he saw another fucking TMZ headline about Steve leaving a club with another model. This had to be the thirtieth person Steve had been tied to since their breakup. Eddie's best guess was that his pact with Robin to be each other's whatever to get the media off their back had ended.

Lyrics started flowing out of Eddie as he swiped out of twitter and into his notes app.

Your new girl is my clone And did you think I didn't see you? There were flashing lights At least I had the decency To keep my nights out of sight Only rumors 'bout my hips and thighs And my whispered sighs

Eddie knew it was probably a low blow to flaunt his escapades after he'd worked pretty hard to keep them under wraps. He didn't need the world to know he had pity sex with some random guy he picked up because he really got Eddie's last album. Eddie fucking hated how pretentious some fans were about his lyrics. Like sometimes a sword is just a sword, bestie. Anyways, an NDA and really shitty coffee later, Eddie pretended that mistake hadn't happened but was petty enough to make it clear to Steve that he wasn't the only one finding solace in someone else's bed.

He put together a rough melody on his acoustic and sent it over to his band to see what they thought. He wasn't sure if they'd be into it but it was fucking therapeutic to get the feelings out of his body that were festering there. Gareth was over the moon because he had been anti-Steve from the beginning and was super on board with some pretty boy actor directed snark. Ronnie, Jeff, and Freak were a little harder to bring around as they felt like they should at least sort of protect their darker brand but once Freak laid down a pretty sick base and Ronnie added some haunting piano it was undeniably a Corroded Coffin song. They packaged up a rough draft and sent it over to their producer to work his magic. Before Eddie knew it the song was approved for a sound on TikTok and Eddie and the band were thinking of video ideas to promote the single which would apparently be ready for streaming in the next month. Eddie wasn't quite ready to concede an entire angsty breakup album but it did at least feel good to get a start on producing what the studio was looking for.

Eddie sat back and scrolled through the sound on TikTok and thought about Steve's reaction to the sound or the single a perfectly healthy amount, thank you very much.

@lololol-1234 (it's not quite fixed yet but i hope you don't mind the tag)

part three