#reflexively writing people off on things that like.. are probably fine

[monster-noises]

I came on here to make a different post initially and I may still make that post in the tags but now the main body of this post is gunna be about how weird it is that of all the things I have come on here to Repeatedly Gripe about like some big sad lump I am regularly embarrassed and ashamed to write posts about me wanting a relationship and the troubles my mind has about it? Like it's not Less personal than me writing about any other issue I am dealing with but somehow it Feels Different and I keep shying away from it and it's really backing things up in the ol' noggin, which isn't Great

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Please can we have more Yan justice league?

Maybe the reader has a boyfriend in the military so she doesn't see him much and when he comes back to visit, the go on a fancy date before they crash it?

It would make it even better if they reacted to the boyfriend about to propose to her!

A Day in Life: Heartbreaks

Synopsis: A day in your life where your yanderes find a secret of yours and tell you another one.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Modern!40s!Bucky Barnes X Reader

Tw: Bucky you’re one of my fav characters from Marvel, I'm so sorry I did u dirty😭; Heavy mentions of cheating and NO forgiving; Stalking; English isn’t my 1st language.

Word count: 1k

Requested? Duh.

Extra notes: I should be studying instead of writing this. Also omg I got so many requests in just a few hours, thank you very much!! I'm writing them all!!

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Since most of your days became filled with stress and anxiety, you started appreciating even more moments where you could just forget all your problems, from small ones — like, lack of motivation to go to the gym, bad hair days and an ingredient you forgot at your fridge and became rotten—, and big, out of your control ones — like seven superheroes, who you see almost everyday, stalking you.

Your boyfriend getting back was one of the best dic(k)strations.

Bucky was a sergeant, he spent weeks, even months, away from you on missions. It was hard, but you were both busy people, so your mind was usually too stimulated to think about boy problems only all day, most adults were, and you believed the hard work would be worth it one day. The future was hopefully bright.

The League never mentioned him. Actually, some of them implied more than once that they thought you were available, so they probably didn't know about your relationship. You didn't use much social media and your boyfriend got especially busy this year, so it made sense.

He paid for you to get your nails done earlier and took you to a nice restaurant. After that, Bucky took you for a walk around the city, lively and beautiful even at night, and stopped at the park where your first date happened. Everything was fine, until he got on his knees. Suddenly, seven, mostly colorful, figures descended upon you from out of nowhere, screaming.

— (Y/N)! YOU CAN'T MARRY HIM! — Flash’s voice startled you, confirming your suspicions to who the group was.

You growled.

— SERIOUSLY? LEAVE ME ALONE! IT'S MY DAY OFF! — Bucky, who had swiftly gotten up with his fast reflexes as soon as the heroes charged, blinked at the sight. He looked between you all.

— Doll? What’s this? — You looked apologetic at him.

— Sorry, Bucky. Since I got my job, my bosses got… Protective over me… — You didn't want him to get hurt. Bucky and his friends had a great sense of justice and hated bullies. He would surely want to do something if he knew the true extent of things. You also didn't want to ruin the vision he had of his idols.

Since their obsessive behavior started, you just counted your lucky stars that they would just get tired of you one day or wouldn't sabotage your relationships. They seemed fine with you having friends, but dating was different.

You turned to the League.

— Go! — They shook their heads.

— You can't trust this bastard, darling. We have proof of his betrayal to you. — You looked at Wonder Woman skeptically and crossed your arms. Bucky gulped.

— Oh, really? How so? — You raised an eyebrow.

Batman fiddled with his wrist computer, a second later, a protection was shown and different pictures and videos of your man talking and being very intimate with someone very familiar to you appeared. Your stomach churned and your heart ached.

— This is fake! Doll, you have to believe me! — Bucky cried out and got in front of you, holding your shoulders, trying to cover your vision from the images. You took a step back and kept looking at the images.

The League had more than enough means necessary to fake all of this, but you knew Natasha was Bucky’s ex, and they were still friends and coworkers, even with their intense heartbreak. You sometimes got insecure and worried since they spent so much time together, but he always told you you had nothing to worry about…

You gulped.

The League was all glaring at his back while he shouted a hundred words per minute, desperately trying to convince you he was telling the truth.

Superman growled and walked forward until he grabbed Bucky by his shoulders and pulled him away from you.

— Stay away from them, you asshole. (Y/N), I would never do that to you. — You ignored Green Lantern's words, like you were doing since the pacifier incident. You knew he was getting desperate and that made you specially scared, but at least he gave you some distance.

— Not now. — Batman took a step forward. — A few hours ago, we discovered your relationship. For security reasons, we searched, and found these pictures and conversations from his second social accounts, that he uses to commit his cheating.

— He didn't try to hide much, he thought he wouldn't get caught. — Flash stated.

— I-I need more proof… These could be old… — Your first words spoken made Bucky shut up. Mind scrambling for something.

— Let the Lasso of Truth speak for him. — In a second, the Lasso was thrown around Bucky's torso and he was squirming. — Speak, you worthless mortal! — Wonder Woman ordered.

Bucky was able to struggle for a few seconds, before he blurted out.

— It's truth! It's truth! I told her we broke up and started dating her again! I thought I could have you both at the same time!

You gasped. Your hand shot to your chest.

Flash was on your side in a second, trying to hug and comfort you, but you pushed him away. You started crying from heartbreak and anger.

— HOW COULD YOU?! — You glared at him and pointed at his face.

— Doll… I swear I love you both. But I'm also narcissistic, insecure and look down on women. — The Lasso was really doing its job. You laughed humorlessly.

You had nothing to say anymore. No reason to stay. You took advantage of his tied arms and got close, punched his nose, and stomped away.

The League contemplated going after you and trying to bring you comfort, but Batman and Martian Manhunter decided to just let Bucky go (after intimidating him so as to not get close to you again) and follow you discreetly, watching you from the shadows, intervening only if necessary.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

Taglist:

@wandalfnation

[calmcoldevening]

Hey! Can you write something about Michael Myers with a reader who is clumsy so they keep getting scratches/bruises by bumping into things?

Pretty please~

Michael Myers x clumsy!reader

• To be honest, at first he just didn't care. Michael basically didn't know how relationships worked, so you and your house were just a place for him to get a good night's sleep and delicious edible food.

• Over time, it became a little annoying. He doesn't know why, but seeing you with bruises and small scratches caused a mixture of strange feelings inside him that had never been in his life before. Michael liked the sight of people in blood, it was part of his 'job', so naturally it brought him some satisfaction or even pleasure from what he saw. But things were different with you. The bruises on you didn't seem right, the blood on your skin didn't bring him that much joy.

• This unpleasant unfamiliar feeling prompted Michael to watch you from time to time to protect you from more damage. Why are you still walking this road to college/work if you're constantly scratching branches about it? He'll probably cut them off late at night. You keep tripping over that miserable doorstep at home? Rest assured, he will find a gorgeous rug to lay there and soften your blows.

• When Michael got used to you and your presence enough, he really began to associate you with someone dear to him. And then he started to find your clumsiness pretty.. cute? Adorable? Although he still didn't like the appearance of bruises and wounds on your delicate skin.

• Michael heals like a dog, so he doesn't know much about handling cuts or anything like that. It will take time for him to learn how to give you proper first aid and take care of you. Although he will quickly remember that cold frozen meat from the freezer needs to be applied to your bruise, and a small cut needs to be treated with a bottle with a liquid from your bathroom locker.

• You can be sure that when he is at home, you will have much fewer bruises. He'll put his hand on your waist when you're inches away from hitting your side against the doorway. His strong arms reflexively reach forward and catch you in a couple of moments from colliding with the slippery floor.

• Michael may not be talking to you in words, but light, muffled, rude chuckles come out of his chest at particularly awkward moments of your clumsiness, but he's not laughing at you, no, he just finds it so damn cute.

• In moments when you get tired of your own clumsiness or you are just sad about it, Michael will gently wrap his big strong arms around you and hug you to his chest, gently stroking your back. His own way of saying that everything is fine, you're fine.

• If the scratch on your body is big enough and it causes you to cry, Michael will lift the edge of his latex mask and gently kiss every inch of your skin around the wound. He's like a big puppy at times like this.

• Over time, he will even enjoy your clumsiness. Not that he likes the fact that you're hitting, no. It's just an opportunity for Michael to get closer to you. He likes to take care of your wounds, bruises or tangled hair afterwards, although he will never admit it. He likes how you need him at times like this.

• He likes to carry you in his arms and soothe you so that you pay less attention to the pain in your body due to bruises.

• Michael will definitely insure you in the kitchen to avoid knife wounds.

• He's crazy about you and your clumsiness, this man love you to the death, you can be sure.

[bracedfangirl]

Fatal mistake

So uh about 5 years ago I sent an anon ask to @lloydskywalkers (whose writing was a major major source of inspiration for this) about an S5 Lloyd dies AU idea, and promised to write it one day... And while I did do so back then, I figured it was time to rewrite this old trope (shoutout to @wassupninja for proofreading all of it and holding my hand while I suffered through writing this)

But first, I shall summon some angst loving mutuals: @goldenavenger02 @thesoundofmadness @rosiehunterwolf @fishybehavior (I probably left out some people... It's 1 am...)

This situation has definitely been in one of his nightmares, Kai's sure of it. To be fair the past weeks as a whole have been a nightmare come true as well. Still he should've expected it... Of course Morro would resort to using Lloyd as a... As an ultimatum tool? Or whatever fancy words Zane would use...

Either way this sucks. If they don't give that greasy dickwad the crystal, he'll kill Lloyd for sure (Kai's seen that disgusting murderous gaze of his), but there's zero guarantee that he won't, even if they do, plus there's also that whole "gonna curse all 16 realms" thing too-

"Stop stalling! Give me the crystal, or else-"

"We're not stalling, we're thinking!"

Kai really, really hopes that Morro believed that, and that he doesn't hear their frustrated banter either. How the fuck are they gonna get out of this, they have nothing-

The ground slightly shakes, responding to Cole's frustration, and suddenly Kai's confidence comes back out of the void.

Let's see how you hold up playing hot potato, fuckface-

"Time's up, I told you to quit stalling!"

Before Kai has any chance to react, he's struck by an overwhelming sense of wrong. He whips around with speed comparable to Jay's strikes, the word 'wait' already on his lips-

His world freezes in place.

Lloyd stands on the ledge, bent back in an awfully unnatural way, red glossy blade sticking out of his middle, eyes wide open in shock.

Skewered, that fucker skewered him-

He's seen this before. Multiple times in slight variation over the years in his nightmares. But none of those even compare to the horror and dread of this because this is fucking real.

He doesn't hear the cries of panic coming from Jay and Cole, or the disgusting eerie chuckle coming from Morro. He doesn't even know if he himself has made any noise.

No he only hears the choked gasp Lloyd gives as he's kicked off the ledge, and makes a run for it. He gets there only a second after Lloyd lands on the ground with an awful crack, hands pressing on the wound reflexively.

Lloyd's eyes are wide open, his teeth clenched, and it takes Kai far too many seconds to realize that the horrible, garbled noise coming from him is his breathing. He can faintly hear Jay scream something again, but none of the words actually register. He presses his hands on the wound harder, earning an awful noise of pain from Lloyd in response. The panic has ebbed enough that Kai finally turns to look at Zane, waiting for whatever medical instructions he's whipped up-

But Zane's just staring. He's staring with that awful, horrified and saddened look, and Kai's blood runs cold.

No-

Lloyd's equally soaked hand suddenly grips his wrist, and Kai whips his head back to look at him.

His eyes are only half open now, but he's looking Kai straight in the eye.

"H-Hey... It's gonna be f-fine... Even g-got the power part handle-"

Lloyd suddenly chokes on his words, blood squirting from his mouth as he coughs. Seemingly realizing how little time he has, he reaches for Jay's shaking hands, turning to look at him and the others.

"Don' ya dare eve' s'op makin' jokes 'kay? Y'all gonna nee' jokes. Don' s'op till ya kicked the ass o' every ghost ou' there-"

Lloyd weakly spasms as more blood spills from his lips, his hold on Kai's wrist weakening. His head stills again vaguely in Kai's direction, eyes glossed over and barely open.

"Go'a s'ay a'some a'ight? Like... Vo'ca'o..."

His eyes are already closed somewhere mid sentence, and Kai scrambles to respond in panic, realizing he's been rendered silent the whole time-

The fire in Kai's heart sputters out just as Lloyd does, hand sliding off of Kai's wrist.

And Kai falls apart.

He cries and wails, begging his littl brother to wake up, to stay, even though he knows Lloyd can't hear it.

"I must admit I'm touched. But I do wonder, which is more pathetic? The fact that you even dropped this in your haste to reach him, or that he seemed the least scared out of the five of you."

Morro's sly, gleeful voice echoes through the cavern as he eyes the realm crystal in his transluscent hands with a disgusting grin before he disappears into one of the tunnels, likely leading to the surface.

As pathetic as it is, Kai doesn't immediately scramble to his feet to chase after him, to wipe the grin off his face by pressing it into water and wrangling that wretched crystal from his hands. He just stays rooted firmly into place, along with the others. It's as if all of his strength left him, leaving him to tremble in silence, clutching his brother's dead body, unhearing and unfeeling as Cole and Zane try to hold Jay together as he crumbles behind him with loud cries.

As if only a second had passed, Zane appears at his side, telling him they need to get going with an eerily monotone voice. He shifts his hold Lloyd's body with trembling hands, before shakily standing up. It feels like he's moving on autopilot, not even registering the climb to the surface. He can't feel his soaked gi sticking to him, or the wind coming from the exit of the cave or any of the bruises and cuts he's picked up. There's just this empty, numb and cold feeling right where his power and heart would be, the punishment for his failure to do the one thing destiny tasked him with.

That's not entirely true... He still has Nya left. He's going to have to work extra hard to keep her safe, failing her too is something he can't afford.

But unless he figures out some sort of magical plan real soon, he's going to lose not just her, but everyone else he loves as well.

[crippy-tangerine]

Really don’t see other autistic people talk much about temperature-related sensory differences beyond “the sun is too much sometimes”,, in any autistic spaces we’ve been in,,,? Which we are confused by, because it’s one of our most prominent autism-related sensory difficulties.? Aside from noise & smell hypersensitivity anyways... So we’re unsure if we’ve just missed all the conversations about it, or if other autistics don’t find it as difficult/debilitating so don’t feel the need to discuss? But we think the first option is much more likely, so hi autistic community, talk to us because we missed the earlier conversations 🥹💖. (This is not meant as a criticism of any autistic communities by the way, this is very /neutral, and just an observation really! Especially as we may just have forgotten the times people have discussed already!). Anyways, we’re just gonna ramble about our autism & temperature issues below, because it is an issue for us and we need to write things out to process them 🫡. This will be long, so TLDR is at the bottom!!

-> content warning for accidental self-injury, accidental self-neglect(?) of health needs, general disordered habits, and also specific disordered food issues. The food stuff isn’t related to our eating disorder(s) and is purely about temperature issues/stimming, but it’s still not exactly something we would encourage, so yes this is your warning!

Our autism has such a huge impact on our ability to feel temperature properly… we don’t seem to be able to process any temperature sensory input like others do.? For example- our living space feels like a totally different biome from the rest of the building 😭. People come into our space and reflexively go “oh, it is very cold in here-!”, and follow that up by asking if we are ok in this much cold and if we need help making it warmer. Which is very sweet and appreciated, but… It is deliberately this cold, because we have the heating turned completely off and usually have the windows wide open to keep it a nice “outside-during-winter” temperature. “Surely you are freezing?!” you may ask~ the answer is: “we probably are, but fuck it, we can’t tell!”.

We will sit in a T-shirt and shorts (maybe with socks on too?) when it is 7-11 degrees (Celsius, no idea what that is for you Americans sorry) and feel,,, fine.? Don’t even know. Can’t tell really. But we can definitely tell when we overheat, and that is the most evil sensory experience for us, so we are genuinely much more happy to sit in a close-to-freezing room than tolerate warmth 😭. Like we will just make our space the same temperature as the outside (unless it’s hot outside, in which case we will suffer and spend a lot of time taking freezing showers?).

It’s not even that we are immune to the cold or something, the body can definitely get very cold (shaking, blue-purple tinge to hands/feet/lips, goosebumps, hair standing on end, we lose mobility in our joints because they stiffen so much, etc.). We just…. Can’t process that sensory input and *feel cold* most of the time? We don’t have that “oh no I’m cold brrrrr!” reaction other people seem to have.?? And if we do have that reaction it’s more like “whoops, we have gone blue from the cold and didn’t notice, guess we better put a sweater on”.? We tend to not react to the cold until we’re at a point where we’re potentially making ourself ill from the cold, which probably isn’t very healthy, but.??? Cannot handle anything over mildly warm without discomfort. Would sooner freeze into a block of ice than be too hot (/hyperbole and /half-joking).

Heat sensitivity also means that we would rather eat absolutely everything cold. Like, everything. Cold soup, cold pizza, cold stir fry… We will eat bits of frozen foods while they are still frozen because the sensory experience is more fun when they’re icy.? Will happily chew on frozen chips, frozen fruit, frozen veggies, frozen pizza toppings… We were also That Child that would fish the ice cubes out of drinks in restaurants to crunch on 😟. (Would also eat the lemons out of everyone’s drinks, but that’s a whole other thing 😭). We will eat chilled foods raw, instead of cooking them (which is fine and safe for us as we only eat plant-based foods that aren’t dangerous when uncooked!! Please do not do this with stuff like raw meat 😭). Raw veggie spring rolls, cold pasta…. Even if it would probably taste better hot/warm to everybody else, we will try our hardest to eat it cold because we don’t like the heat. Cold coffee, cold tea (no, not even iced tea, we will just make green tea with cold water because hot liquids are not fun for us).

There have been days in the past where it’s been muggy and uncomfortably warm because there’s a thunderstorm coming, and when the rain started we would just go stand outside until we were Very Soggy because we would sooner deal with wet clothes all day than not be able to self-regulate in warm weather.?? And that’s saying something because wet clothes are a bad sensory experience 🫠.

But then on the other end of the spectrum, we have repeatedly burned our hands from accidentally touching stoves/oven shelves/fire and not realising.?? (Reason #62835 why we are not safe alone 😭 /lighthearted.)

Like, somehow, we can accidentally do ourself damage because of not feeling temperature properly (either from holding our hands into burning hot things, or from making ourselves feel ill from the cold).

And this isn’t to be all like “wowee autism makes us so silly and quirky teehee!!”, that’s not what we’re trying to say. We’re trying to say: we can’t act like a person if the temperature is bad, we eat foods raw/frozen that aren’t meant to be eaten like that, we border on making ourselves ill/actually make ourselves feel ill because of how cold we need to be to exist, we stop functioning whenever it’s even mildly hot outside, we are so dysregulated by heat that we just shut down and cannot get anything done properly without going into sensory overload. Like, we have such major issues with temperature because of our autism. We don’t remember ever seeing other autistics talk about the same/similar issues, and we don’t get why.? So like, if you’re also autistic, do you have similar issues with temperature? Whether it’s hypo-sensitivity or hyper-sensitivity.? Would be really interested in hearing other experiences in more detail.!! (/genuine, this is an invitation to ramble about your autistic temperature experiences!)

TLDR: we are terrible at temperature-related things (can’t feel temperatures properly and/or have a sensitivity issue with them) and have a tendency to cause ourselves accidental harm because of it. We are wondering if other autistics have the same/similar issues.? (You can ramble in replies/reblogs as much as you want to answer that question!)

Allistics (non-autistics) please do not derail. This is a post about our autism and temperature issues, addressed at other autistics. If you want to talk about a separate disability and how it affects temperature-related sensory issues, please make your own separate post.! Thank you 🫰.

[goodluckclove]

In Defense of Self-Inserts

This is written in response to an ask sent from the Always Delightful @fukurouonthesea, who asked for my thoughts on creating unique characters in regards to a tabletop game character they're building. My first thought on getting this question is that Fukuro likely assumes unique characters are a subject I know things about - good to hear! Good that people assume I know things! That works out well for me.

So I can speak more on the perspective of writing characters for prose and scripts rather than TTRPGs. I recently finished my first campaign, but I was sort of tricked into playing by my wife who was DM-ing and ended up going the whole time with a joke character I really couldn't find any actual dramatic pathos in*. My next attempt will hopefully be more intentionally-crafted. But also still probably chaotic. I tend to lean that way, apparently.

But characters! How do you do them? Or, more accurately, how do I do them? There's a ton of paths to get to the same goal of Cool Guy That's Fun To Read About, but I'd love to take this opportunity to put off actually working on Migration Patterns for a while longer and instead ramble about something I've been wanting to dive into for a while.

Self-inserts are actually super useful! They're great! All of my characters are self-inserts and virtually no one has ever commented on that! I genuinely don't think they've noticed!

(this is a long one)

What is a self-insert, really? The definition I'm the most familiar with in writing is a character drawing (maybe even heavily drawing) from yourself as the author. I saw people back in the day get very mean about self-inserts, considering them an overlap with the Original Sin of Mary Sue-dom. It's 2024, though, and these days Mary Sue is primarily a term used to describe female characters that a critic personally doesn't like. Still, I've had a TON of writers come to me worrying about writing self-inserts, and I'm consistently confused.

Maybe it's because I've been doing this for long enough that I've built up an immunity to the dumb nonsense people say online posing as "Objective Writing Advice". Maybe it's because I'm a huge fan of Kurt Vonnegut, a man who straight up wrote himself as a side character in a few of his most notable books. I've never gone that far, but I absolutely pull from my own life and identity for all of my characters and it consistently works.

I think when a reader points out a character as a self-insert, it's a reflex of seeing someone with notably less nuance than the rest of the cast. This character - let's name them Goobis - is written with the near-explicit intent to be just super cool. It's an instant turn-off for me in a written work if there's one person I can just look at and immediately know they're crafted to be the fandom darling. Goobis might have faults, but if they do, they're pretty cool faults. They're things that could definitely be bad if pushed to a thematic height (Caring too much, over-protective, self-sacrificing, a level of snark that's guaranteed to make impressionable fans slightly insufferable for a few years), but they aren't.

Goobis, typically, gets kid gloves in terms of the treatment of the story. Plot Armor, maybe. Or they might be a Plot Martyr that has every bad thing ever happen to them and everyone around them is either an old-timey villain or a kind cardboard cutout that weeps oh no poor Goobis!! Both are fine. There's an audience for both, clearly. But from what I've seen those are the types of characters that typically get readers - myself included - to think they're a form of wish-fulfillment.

You can do wish-fulfillment in writing. You should do that at least one, it's nice and good for bone health. But man, there are a lot of writers (Including adult ones that I've known in my real life) who can benefit from - like - distance, man. Draw from yourself and your life, but unless you're ready for a conversation maybe don't be one-to-one accurate.

I have a relative who got a masters in creative writing. I found his novella online and aimed to read it and send him my thoughts as a show of support, only to find that it was actually unbelievably pretentious and I honestly couldn't get through it. What drew my attention, though, was that the main character was dealing with the grief of his father, who died literally the exact same way my relative's actual father died.

I caught it immediately and I think I whispered "oh no" out loud. Like, what are you doing dude? Your mom read that shit, and she had to see you describe an entirely accurate depiction of how her fucking husband died that is such a weird move. Processing grief through writing is great - but change some fucking specifics, you weirdo. Make it a mom instead of a dad, or maybe an uncle or grandpa if you're keeping the patriarch thing. Change the reason why he needed surgery, or the medical complication that caused his death. Maybe don't name the exact hospital where your Dad died in this non-autobiographical work. Fucking hell.

Shifting some surface-level details from events in your life is, often times, enough to make it so people directly involved in these events can read them and not even realize what you're referencing. You can also tweak a certain event slightly to fictionalize it even further, while still having the honesty of your real life experience. I dropped out of school while starting the same creative writing program my relative graduated from. What if I stayed? What would my life look like? What would my writing look like? Would I still even enjoy writing? The concept of sliding door moments is a fascinating one to me and it's something I think about a lot.

On a more internal level in terms of character, you know more of yourself than anyone else in your life. You know your fears and your faults. You know what makes you lovable - or what people say they love you for, or what you'd like them to love about you. You probably know things about yourself that are so painful and trembling that you assume that if anyone else finds out about them they'd immediately realize you're worthless as a human being. If you don't know any of that, maybe you should. Internal contemplation - or external though something like therapy - is absolutely beneficial in a ton of ways, including for your art.

People are complicated. Everyone is complicated, and the average person as the most experience with their own network of identity. And in my own work (The only craft I can really speak for), putting at least a touch of myself in the characters I create has really caused people to engage and relate to them.

And it's weird, because I can't really think of any major faults that any of my characters have. At least, not in the way a lot of newer writers describe character faults - like some rubber stamp easily marked in the center of a person's forehead. There are things about the cast of my series Songbird Elegies that I see as struggles that either have to be processed or managed. Someone might be self-loathing, or struggle with emotional intimacy, or have a temper that will absolutely steer them wrong. They might be impulsive to a degree that is no longer Quirky Cute. That's not great.

But growing writers will sometimes make a fault out to be a thing that you can see very clearly in a person above anything else. As if you can point at a guy on the street and say BAM - SEXIST! Which - yeah, you can do that. I can have brief interactions with people I don't actually know and come away thinking that someone is stupid or lazy or irresponsible or any number of bad qualities. It's only if I got to actually know them - either though a relationship or just somehow following their lives as an outside observer - that I'd learn they slipped through the cracks in school so deeply that they just stopped caring, or they went through a loss that resulted in them choosing to survive instead of actually live.

Your worst qualities weren't predestined from birth. The Meyers-Brigg is absolute nonsense mainly utilized by the military and most major corporations. There are things you might hate about yourself that once served to protect you. This is true for everyone you see, but when you're just starting out in art it might be hard to see that. That's why it's so helpful to first draw from yourself.

So draw from yourself to whatever degree you want. Give Goobis your sense of humor, but maybe use it as an opportunity to explore why you're so quick to joke and what doing that might be avoiding. Have Goobis experience the same childhood birthday that irrevocably changed the course of your life, but maybe change what year it happened and make it a close-up magician you found instead of a Spiderman Impersonator. In fact, consider seeing what would change if it was Goobis' innocent little brother who stumbled across Spiderman's dead body instead of Goobis themself. If you're willing to be honest - not excessively self-deprecating or praising, just honest - you'll probably be surprised how many people see themselves in the people you write.

God that was long. I hope that helped maybe? Helped someone?

*It was an eldritch horror wearing a cowboy Hat of Disguise to look like a bulldog. His name was Socks. He ended the campaign traveling to early 2000s Philadelphia and kidnapping an NPC with him. This was after Socks paid for the NPCs Wizard school education, then paid for the NPC to become a potter after crossing paths again, and then sacrificed the NPC to be an immortal slave to a Time Spider. In the climax of this campaign Socks used the Teleport cantrip from Wizards101 to banish the final enemy to the Tomb of the Beguiler. Things went off the rails real quick.

[hopeymchope]

If there is one useful bit of advice Byakuya gave Makoto, it's that, to paraphrase, "it's a mistake to assume everyone else thinks like you". Fandoms could learn from this, and not assume that "everyone else universally loves and hates the same things we do." Fandoms could learn that other people might really, seriously disagree with them, without insisting that "all stories must be written our way, or they need to be 'fixed'."

You're SO right.

That last sentence in your Ask especially speaks to me. What grinds my gears lately is people reflexively calling something "bad writing"/"problems with the writing"/"flaws in writing" when what they REALLY mean "This wasn't done in a manner that suits my personal taste." Not everything someone dislikes is automatically "bad writing." (A subgenre of this is people confidently assuming they know what the creators of a work thought/felt about their decisions without any actual evidence to back up their assumptions. But hey—at least they're trying to interpret underlying intent, so that's something!)

For example: Disliking someone's characterization is NOT "flawed writing." You didn't like that Korekiyo turned out to be a creepy-ass incest freak? Fair enough! Makes sense. But that doesn't mean the writing of his character was BAD; it means you didn't like it. And that's totally fine! Your opinion is, of course, 100% valid!

I suppose that, as a writer myself, I'm probably just feeling defensive of other writers. But even though liking something or calling it "bad writing" can all be boiled down to opinions, I still feel like there's a real distinction between them. If you find the dialogue in something unbelievable/awkward/out of character? You could say that's bad writing. If you believe there's a plot hole in the narrative? You could argue that's bad writing. However, if you—to cite a recently discussed example—didn't like the usage of brainwashing in DR3, even after you learned about the backup evidence? That doesn't mean it was "bad writing"; you just didn't like it for other reasons.

I'm not sure if I'm being clear about this, and I think I kind of went off on a rant... feel free to ignore. :P

Point is that writers work really hard to produce what they do, it takes a shit-ton of time—typically far more than visual arts—and maybe don't reflexively say they suck when you simply dislike a choice. :P

[femboykyo]

Moriarty the Patriot Characters react to "Daddy"

Pairing: Albert X transman oc(Juniper)

His reaction: He loves it

Tags: 18+, smut, desk smut, oneshot

I woke up in a light mood and almost skipped out of bed. I quickly got dressed and put up my hair before starting my day in the Moriarty home. My first visit was Albert, he was usually up this early as well. I walked with pep in my step to his room where he was probably looking over some rich people things. Which probably meant he hadn’t paid attention to the tea he had made. I knocked lightly on the door and he replied softly on the other side.

“Good morning, June Bug.”

“Morning, Albert. Have you been up long?”

He didn’t look up from his writing but he smiled.

“Not long enough for concern.”

“Should I pour you some tea?”

“Please do, thank you.”

I poured new tea and handed the cup over.

“You’re welcome, Daddy.”

I turned to leave but a hand grabbed me over his desk. I was pulled back and I was laying on his desk, his papers and ink shoved to the side. I looked up and his normally green eyes were almost black, a sultry smirk on his lips.

“Say again, Dear? I don’t think I heard you right.”

“You’re welcome, Daddy.”

I could feel my cheeks getting red and squeezed my thighs together as he lowered his face to mine.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Love.”

I played dumb and fluttered my lashes at him. A snarl escaped and grabbed my face and his hand holding my wrist tugged me closer to him.

“You absolute tease.”

I just opened my mouth wide, waiting for what was to come next. Albert held my biceps and thrusted his cock into my mouth. My eyes rolled and my back arched as he fucked into my mouth, saliva falling down the sides of my face.

“Such a good boy for Daddy, aren’t you, June Bug?”

I moaned in response and his pulsing got stronger. I opened my jaw the best I could and took him to the back of my throat, trying to relax so I wouldn’t trigger my gag reflex. I felt his hips stutter and his cum was filling my mouth but it was too much and some rolled down the corners of my lips. Albert pulled out with a sigh and I swallowed what I could without choking. A tissue wiped the mixed fluids off of my face and lips kissed my forehead and nose.

“Next time, I won’t hold myself back.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“I am terribly busy now, June Bug. How about we go out for lunch?”

I slowly sat up with some help from Albert’s arm as support and chuckled.

“Sounds fine to me.”

“Will you be alright on your own?”

“You used my mouth, Albert, I’ll be fine.”

He kissed my forehead again and led me to the door and I rolled my eyes.

“I can walk on my own, silly.”

“I can never stop being a gentleman, Juniper.”

“That I know is a lie but alright.”

I walked out while wiping the corner of my mouth, licking left over cum from my fingertip.

Many, many votes agreed that Albert would love to be called "Daddy" and my partner and I agreed to this as well. He just seems like a very dominant partner.🤭🤭🤭

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

SO AFTER THAT BEAUTIFUL DRABBLE I AM NOW THINKKING ABOUT CLARK CASUALLY CONGRATULATING BRUCE ON THE BABY AND BRUCE INTERNALLY DYING?? I’m literally so in love with this story you are amazing and so so talented thank you so much❤️❤️❤️❤️

Let's be real. Bruce has been in love with that child since he found out there was one. That's his kid and fuck what anyone else says. Those are his girls.

"Clark," Bruce said, offering a smile and a handshake.

"Hey!" he said cheerfully, "Congrats I heard it's a girl. I bet you're-"

Bruce coughed and glanced to where he could hear you, bickering cheerfully with Dick about the proper way to conjugate a verb in Latin. "Clark," he said, face heating, "The baby isn't mine." He wished she was. He already loved her- almost as much as he loved you. But he knew better than to let you hear him telling people he was her father. You'd been adamant about it.

"But-"

"I'll explain later," he said quietly, turning to see Dick race through the door to launch himself at Clark.

"You better," Clark hissed before turning to catch Dick and shake your hand. "I'm surprised you said you'd give me an interview," he said grinning, "I'm honored."

"Well," you huff a laugh and let Bruce sit you in the chair he'd pulled out, "It's not a tabloid or a talk show- and you just want to know about my charities, not my kid's paternity."

"I've heard it's a girl," he said, grinning, taking his seat, "You must be thrilled."

"It is nice to be able to narrow down my list of names- and decide what to do with my nursery," you allow, smiling a little.

Bruce glares and Clark, positioning himself just behind your chair and folds his arms. You hadn't wanted to do this- not really. And you were notoriously cagey about your personal life around reporters- in another context, you'd probably offer to show him paint colors- but not today. Clark fought an eye roll with difficulty. As if he'd ever publish any of that. He'd rather never write another article before he'd do some weird tabloid expose about a socialite's out-of-wedlock pregnancy. "Ma wants to know your colors when you figure them out," he said dimpling, "She wants to make you a blanket for her."

"I'll call her," you answer, relaxing just slightly. You hate interviews. Your guardian, a half-brother who was more concerned with spending his inheritance than your well-being, had pushed you into doing them after your parents died. Trotting you out to drive up stock prices- and most of them had been focused on the scandals- things no one should be asked about. But seeing a poised, demure little girl, looking like a life-sized doll- the media and the public had gone wild. Some people had gone so far as to call you a sociopath.

"She'd like that," Clark reassures you, smiling his thanks when your assistant brings him a coffee.

Bruce squeezes your shoulder gently. He can feel you trembling and in his minds eye, he can see you. Your feet dangling off a chair in a dress you thought was for a tea party. And he can see the overbright doe eyes, frantically searching for someone. Anyone. That was going to make it stop. "You don't have to do this," he said softly. "I can get Clark the information he needs."

"I'm sorry," you murmur, getting to your feet, walking quickly out of the room, quietly, but firmly shutting the door.

Clark winced, "I should apologize-"

"Give her a few minutes," Bruce said, exhaling slowly. "She'll pull it together."

"It's fine I can-"

"Just give her a minute," Bruce said, smiling ruefully. "It's been- she can do it, we just might have to be a little less formal about it. We'll take a walk, if you want to record it."

Clark nodded, "I thought her heart was gonna explode. I don't want-"

"It'll be fine," Bruce said, "Just try and avoid her parents." He shivered reflexively, the memory of that interview making his stomach turn.

"Do we have enough time for you to explain what the hell is going on with you two?" Clark said, frowning, folding his arms. "Ma said she's just not putting a name on the birth certificate."

"Clark-"

"Just marry her! God how can two people be so smart and so stupid?" he groaned.

"I've been asking myself that a lot lately," Alfred drawled, glancing towards the closed kitchen door. "I see this is going well... I'll just go see if-"

"Please?" Bruce said, a note of worry in his voice.

"Yeah. That's not your girl," Clark huffed, folding his arms. "Totally get it now."

___________

You look up from where you're curled on a kitchen chair and smile a little, "Do you still have a sixth sense for when something stupid is happening or-"

"I raised Master Bruce," he chuckled, pulling a bowl of cold watermelon out of the fridge and putting some on a plate. "Are we hiding or regrouping?"

"Strategic Retreat," you agree, "I thought I was going to be sick."

"I see," he hummed, setting the plate on the table and putting a fork next to it, "I still say you should do a tabloid interview and actually vomit on someone- it would probably put an end to it rather nicely."

"Or I'd be headed for rehab and in dire straits as Bruce frantically tries to save my poor shattered soul."

He cringed, "Fair point- you lead an interesting life when none of us are looking, Miss Y/N."

[good4olivia]

so i forgot the start of a story i was writing in my bucky phase, i'm probably not going to finish it but i'll post it anyway lol

rockstar!bucky barnes x reader

“How many drinks do I have to order until you finally agree to let me take you out?” Bucky pressed, leaning against the wooden counter of the bar. The establishment was popular among LA’s rich and famous, especially drummer Bucky Barnes. 

“You can keep ordering them, and I’ll keep serving them but that’s as far as it’s going to go. You know I don’t date famous people.” You told him sternly, pouring him another shot, you knew his order off by heart now. You knew a lot about him, not from internet stalking but from his everlasting presence at the bar. 

“I’m not even that famous babe!” He exclaimed, throwing his hand up in the air and downing the shot as soon as you placed it front of him. 

“You don’t need a date from me, you can get one from any other girl in this bar and you know that.” You say, looking down.  Bucky has his reputation and if he wants to sleep around with girls and drop them the morning after, he would have to do it with someone else. 

 “There’s more to me than what people think. Come on, you of all people should understand that.” He reached for your hand across the bar and it made your heart race pick  up. “Let me take you out. Please.” 

You were about to answer him when another patron down the counter called out to you, “Hey! Get me another raspberry vodka would you?” You got to making that drink right away. Bucky’s jaw clenched and if he hadn’t had the priors luring over his head, maybe he would’ve decked that man for talking to you like that and interrupting when he finally had you where he wanted you.

— 

You finished putting away the spirits when you heard his voice behind you, “We got interrupted before you could say yes to going out with me babe.” Bucky said behind you. 

“Bucky! You scared the life outta of me,  oh my gosh.” You spoke startled, grateful for your quick reflexes saving the bottle from breaking at your feet. “Last call was five minutes ago, we’re closing down soon.” 

“I’ll walk you home, make sure you get there safe.” He told you, popping an olive in his mouth. You noticed that this was one of the rare times he wasn’t shit faced by this time.  

“I appreciate the concern but I’ll be fine.” You told him earnestly, washing down the left over glasses. 

“Do you want me to order you an Uber then? I don’t mind.” He offered. You stopped what you were doing, and looked him in the eyes - he was serious about, you could tell. If only you knew that his car ride was only the first of lavish things Bucky wanted to offer you. 

“No, really it’s okay.” You paused, wondering if you should tell Bucky where you lived, just so he wouldn’t worry so much. “I live in the apartment upstairs.” 

Bucky was both appeased and unpleased with the new information. He was happy knowing you can get home safely every night (and that he knows where you live,) but the places upstairs were in no good condition, he could tell just by the sight of the outside. Still, he would have to wait before you trust him enough to accept all the love he wanted to give you. 

“I guess I should go but I’ll be back tomorrow night.” He promised you. 

“I won’t be here, I’m off tomorrow.” You told him, butterflies erupting in your stomach and the huge smirk Bucky now holds on his face. 

“So you’re free then?” He stated, “I’ll pick you up at 9?” 

“Eight? If I say yes to a date, you’ll have to pick me up earlier than that.” You said to him, he only smirked at that, loving that finally you’re opening up a bit. 

“Alright my love, I’ll be at your place at eight.” He promised and kissed your knuckles before leaving the bar. 

“I never technically said yes!” You called out but he was already out the door. 

[thedreamingfish99]

In a Tight Space

Jason Kolchek x Female Reader

Summary

Jason pressed you against a wall to hide from a creature. Things get warm.

Warnings: No smut, just some HOT action.

Words: 2K

Masterlist

A/N: So I know I said I didn't have time to write, and it's true. But I was in my bed at 3am and I got this great idea for a one shot! I wrote the summary, the kept writing... And kept writing until I finished the whole thing! Oups... Not good for my sleep, but I hope you guys enjoy!

Tags: @sothatsme-alex @songs-of-a-sirenqueen @kilchek

- - - - -

Jason helped you slide the dead monster off of you.

‘’Teaches you to mess with a Marine!’’

You chuckled, eyes closed, you took in a deep breathe when you got freed of the heavy weight and stayed on the ground for a solid minute, calming your heartbeat and letting the adrenaline go down. When you opened your eyes again, your gaze fell on your Lieutenant’s hand patiently waiting for you. You took his hand for him to pull you up. He put too much into it, making you unable to stand on your feet correctly as you tripped, only to catch yourself on his chest.

Your cheek was pressed on his shoulder, hands pressed against his vest while his hands griped your waist by reflex. You felt a blush blooming on your face.

‘’You alright there?’’ His deep voice made you shiver as you quickly pushed yourself away from him to regain composure, slightly looking away to hide your flustered face.

‘’Y-Yea, fine thanks.’’ You cleared your throat.

You heard Jason hummed, grateful that he didn’t push it further. That’s what you loved about him, he never pushed it further, always respecting your silence. Not once as he ever made you uncomfortable about your shyness around him, nor about your flustered face when he caught you staring, or your stuttering whenever you tried having a conversation with him.

It was clear to everyone at Camp Slayer that you had a big crush on the First Lieutenant, clear to everyone except him. Or if he knew, he hid it quite well. You were almost hurt by the lack of interest he seemed to have towards you for not noticing anything. It’s not like you were good at hiding your attraction for him. Every single time you would hear his voice, you’d unconsciously lean towards him. Every time you looked at him, you would lose yourself in his handsome features until someone would snap you out of it. And every time he touched you ever so slightly, you’d feel yourself taking by a shiver. Bur he never asked, never seemed to care.

It didn’t matter to you, your love for him kept on growing anyways. It grew every time Jason was nice to you, every time he laughed with you. He always seemed to pay so much attention to everything you would tell him, he was so friendly, so kind. But Jason is a people’s person, he was like this with everyone and you knew it. You were probably nothing special to him. But sometimes, some little times, you’d catch him looking at you from the other end of the room. You’d catch him trying to help you whenever he could, protecting you more than the others when you were on the field. But that was probably Jason being a great First Lieutenant and taking care of the greenie in the team, you.

And you were shy, way too shy to try and ask him out anyways. You heard Jason pick up his rifle from the ground and turned to look at him. His gaze was wandering around the room, his brain probably calculating what you should do. Go back to the catacombs where we got ambushed? Probably a death sentence. Stay here and wait to see if anyone came to join us? We weren’t even sure anyone else survived. The only viable option was to move forward. Jason seemed to have come to the same conclusion.

He turned his head back towards you and pointed towards the dark tunnel in front of him.

‘’Need to move,’’ He ordered. He scanned your body, noticing you had no weapons or light left on you. He checked himself a second before realizing he had nothing left to land you. He gave you a sorry smile.‘’Stay close.’’

You nodded and followed him through the dark tunnel, the only thing lighting your way being the lamp on his rifle and his cap. You quietly followed, staying one step behind him. You let your thoughts wander back to the attack in the catacombs. You sighed.

‘’I hope everyone’s made it…’’

Jason abruptly stopped in front of you, and you had to catch yourself not to bump into him. He looked at you over his shoulder, eyebrows knit together and eyes filled with concern.

‘’Me too.’But I’m glad y-’’ He got interrupted by screeching and growling sounding way too close for comfort.

Jason rapidly took in your surroundings, closed his lamps, and grabbed your wrist.

He ran to a deep opening in the wall, dragging you behind him. He slid through the opening and pulled you with him, making you slide in front of him. The crack was barely big enough to fit the two of you. It took you a moment to come out of your confusion, and your eyes grew wide when you took in your position.

Your chest was pressed against his, legs intertwined. There was absolutely no room for neither of you to move. You could feel your heart racing and your face burning, you were stuck against him, you were way too close. Jason was a few inches taller than you, making you lift your head to be able to look at him from so close. And god was he close!

Your nose brushed against his jaw as you lifted your head. Jason had his face turned towards the tunnel where you stood barely a minute ago. He was concentrating on the danger, being a good soldier, while you were completely lost. You couldn’t think about anything else than his body pressed against yours, his face less than a few inches from yours.

You couldn’t help to stare at his perfect features, and after a while, your eyes fell on his exposed neck. Your breath quickened as you felt a strange pull towards it, feeling the need to cover it with a thousand kisses.

NO!

You pushed yourself as far as you could against the wall behind you, shaking your head slightly in hopes to make those thoughts disappear. But you could still feel the warmth of his body, pressed against yours, and the smell of his southern musk invading your nostrils, keeping your mind away from any coherent thoughts. You need a distraction, you need to say something.

"Is that your gun that I'm feeling or are you just happy to see me?"

...Fuck. That's not what you meant by saying something! You felt your whole body explode from the embarrassment and your face reddened as Jason whipped his head to meet your gaze.

You expected him to move away, be disgusted, or maybe just laugh... Hopefully, thinking you were funny? But your precious Lieutenant always found a new way to surprise you. Without ever leaving your eyes, he pressed his body even closer to yours. Jason tilted his head down so his forehead could meet yours, his cap pushed up a little with the intervention of your scalp. You could feel his breath hitting your flustered cheeks and your parted lips. Your heart was beating in your ears, heat rising in you. He was so close and you couldn't help but let your gaze wander down to his lips pulled in a content grin. They looked so soft, the urge of meeting them with your own was so strong that you barely felt his leg sliding between yours. He gripped your waist with one hand and pulled you even closer, which you didn't think was possible at this point.

"K-Kolchek I-"

"Shh..."

He had pressed a finger on his lips, but he was so close to you that you felt it brush against yours. He pointed at the hallway.

"Vampire's still close."

You felt like your knees were about to give in as his southern drawl hit your face in a hot breath. You were pretty sure he was lying. You haven't heard any screeching for a while, but honestly, how could you know? Your heart was beating so loudly, you couldn't hear anything else.

The back of his hand caressed your jaw, went up your cheek to end up pushing back a strand of hair behind your ear. Jason's eyes were following the movement of his hand. You couldn't help staring at him in the meantime, taking in his handsome features. His eyebrows were often knit together, his brain always thinking. And he had the most beautiful and warm hazelnut eyes you've ever seen. His sharp jaw and his straight nose both showing you the way to his mouth pulled his usual smirk. A playful smirk that always made his dimples appear. You loved that sight, god he was a beautiful man. As you saw his smile grow wider, you lifted your eyes to meet his, realizing he had caught you staring. The red thickened on your cheeks, as you managed to stare him down.

"You know," He murmured. "You put us in this tricky situation."

Yes. Yes, you did.

A cheeky grin took place on your face. You weren't gonna let him win this. You grabbed onto his belted and pulled him hard towards you. His hips hitting yours. You watched with satisfaction as his eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth in shock. You bit your lips, holding back a chuckle. But Jason regained his composure quicker than you expected. He tightened his grip around your waist and held your chin. You saw his eyes wander on your face before stopping on your lips, making him lick his unconsciously. He tilted his head evermore, and you couldn't help but slightly move yours as well, lining into him. You could feel his nose brush against your cheek, his lips barely a centimeter away, his breath and yours mixing as one. His glare whipped back to meet yours, full of want.

"Fuck it."

He swore before quickly pressing his lips onto yours. You melted into the kiss, closing your eyes and reciprocating the act. His lips moved passionately on yours as if he was scared it would end too fast, but you didn't want it to end either. You slightly parted your lips, welcoming his tongue with yours. Your whole body felt electrified, burning with a wanting fire. Your arms wrapped themselves around his neck, one hand mindlessly caressing his hair, making his cap fall off his head. You felt one of his hands quickly move away from your waist, grabbing his falling hat with incredible reflex without ever breaking the kiss, before going back to rest on your hips. You chuckled in the kiss and you felt him grin.

He pulled back, as you were both breathing heavily. He pressed his forehead against yours. Glaring at you with loving eyes. You felt his hands climb up your body, following your curves to end up cupping your face. You could feel the fabric of his cap against your skin and it made you smile even more.

He caressed your nose with his in a sweet manner and gently pressed a kiss on your lips. This one was different than before. It was soft and loving. You kissed him back, following his lips for a while as he pulled back again. And he chuckled.

"I've been wanting this for a long time." He quietly said, making your heart jump.

"Me too."

You smiled a each other for a while, then he place a light kiss on your nose.

"We should head back. We ain't safe here."

You nodded, following him out of your hiding place with a heavy heart. You didn't want this moment to end, but you knew he was right.

"Lead the way Lieutenant."

You saw him smirk from the side as he put back his cap on top of his head. He turned at you and winked.

"Yes Ma’am."

- - - - -

A/N: I'm thinking of writing Jason's side of the story. Tell me if you guys would be interested! Much love

[imaginativeamateur]

HEY!!!! I read your kakashi x reader in which kakshi takes care of tired reader and it was *chef’s kiss* so i was thinking if you could a kakashi x reader in which the reader gets poisoned during a mission. They get a small scratch so it does not work quickly. So when they get home, they start to feel a bit dizzy and then start coughing up blood LOTS of blood ( if you don’t mind). So kakashi gets worried and takes them to the hospital. When they get there tsunade tells them it is a rare type of poison so they will need a day or two to make the antidote. So the reader is in pain and coughing up blood. Kakashi tries their best to comfort them. Sorry it is long. Feel free to ignore it. Sorry for bad english. THANK YOU ✨

[Kakashi Hatake X Reader] Unbearable

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x gn!Reader

Note: Firstly, I'm glad that you like that piece, anon:D and your idea is fantastic!!! Okay, this one is a bit longer than what I usually write for, probably around 2,000 words. It's a mix of angst and fluff, the ending is fluffy though. And I didn't know what to name this one either:D Without further ado, please enjoy!

You pushed the door open, exclaiming happily when you finally got to sniff the familiar scent of his signature dishes, “I’m home, Kakashi!”

“How was your mission, love?” Wiping his palms on a handkerchief, he lifted his eyes from the pan to quickly examine if you had any injuries.

“Absolutely successful! We captured and brought the rebels back for investigation. My captain will be reporting it to the Hokage so I’m off for now!” You made your way next to him in the kitchen, pulling off your gloves in the process, “What are you making?”

Kakashi went off talking about the dishes he was preparing for your dinner but your mind turned fuzzy in the middle of his sentence. You lost your balance and tumbled backward as your sight blurred, not able to see anything clearly. With his quick reflex, the Copy Ninja caught you by your forearm and guided you to the floor, constantly asking if you were okay. Kakashi’s visible eye widened, brows furrowing as his hands roamed to search for any injuries that his eyes did not catch. You had no fatal wounds except for several scratches here and there, and he could sense your depleted chakra level. Lifting your body up in his arms, he whispered as he carried you to your shared bedroom, “You probably overused your chakra again. You should be back to normal tomorrow after a good rest.”

You sprawled tiredly in your bed, having no appetite for a meal and Kakashi respected it, he knew when it came to reviving a Ninja’s chakra, nothing would be able to beat some decent sleep. He let you stay by yourself for a few hours and went to finish his reports, returning to check on you once in a while. When he was finally done with work, Kakashi quietly slipped under the blanket on his side of the bed, carefully scooted closer to your warmth, hugged you close, and peacefully closed his eyes. In the middle of the night, you were woken up by the burning sensation that coursed through your entire body and a terrible headache, having just enough time to flip onto your side in case you would vomit right then and there. And you suddenly coughed, your throat was torn when the crimson liquid spattered onto the white tiles, bled your shirt, and dripped down from your chin. Being a light sleeper, the silver-haired immediately shot up from his pillow, switched the lights on, and scrambled down to the ground. You were trembling for the time being, and within a split second, Kakashi scooped your motionless body in his arms, rushing for the hospital.

He knew for sure that you were poisoned given the symptoms that were starting to surface. The hospital workers were greatly intimidated by the threatening aura that he sent, still hugging you tight as he brought you to the operation room himself. You continued to cough in his arms, and he did not mind his turtleneck being covered entirely by your blood. Tsunade arrived with a hurried disposition, and Sakura followed close behind her lead. Kakashi immediately reported your condition to the Fifth Hokage, grimacing when he saw blood pooling on the hospital bed as the Medic’s chakra slowly entered your body. He fought to retain himself—to not sprint to your side and cradle you tight, to not bring his hand up and wipe the blood staining the corner of your lips. It was all too much to him to see you panting in agony—

“Sakura,” the blonde Medic commanded, “set up for poison extraction. Get three more people.”

The pink-haired left the room after her teacher’s assignment, fleeting on her feet when she saw your tightly shut eyes and Kakashi’s scary expression as though he was going to burn the place down. Tsunade turned to the Copy Ninja, who was leaning against the wall with a visible eye that settled a tone darker, and called, “Kakashi, I need you to hold Y/N down when I extract the poison.”

He shuddered, unsure if he would still be able to maintain the last bit of composure left. The silver-haired found it impossible to remain himself when came to your safety, but he padded to your side, shaking hands reaching out to the pale face of yours. The Godaime assured him that everything would be okay and the man took a deep breath, moving his palms to rest on both of your shoulders as the rest of the team arrived, getting to work the second they passed the door. Kakashi held onto your upper body and arms, pinning you down onto the bed when the blonde started to focus chakra on her hands. “It’ll hurt, make sure Y/N stays still,” she said before the glowing green entered your body.

Kakashi could feel his sweats running cold against his temple, his uncovered eye fixed on Tsunade's hands, periodically glancing back at your face to make sure that you were fine. His grip on your wrists was tight but not bruising, fearing that it would add to the pain that you were already enduring from the poison. The Copy Ninja had his other forearm across your shoulder blades, pressing your torso in place as the Medic worked diligently. It hurt and you yelped, shrieking from the pure pain every time her chakra seeped inside. Kakashi was restless, biting on his own lips to halt himself from releasing his grasp and hug you tight. Your eyes turned dull when Tsunade finally got the last bit of poison out of your system, heavily placing your head back onto the damp pillow as the silver-haired wiped the sweats on your forehead. When all of you thought it was over, things took a different turn—for worse.

Pain suddenly shot through your body, and you started to cough more vigorously than earlier, blood covered the white sheets of the hospital bed. The whole room turned their attention back on your figure, your eyelashes fluttered, wincing when you felt the tiniest bits of your muscles being squeezed and ripped apart. Kakashi stepped back when he looked at his hands smeared by your blood, and grimaced, “… Didn’t you get the poison out already?”

The Medic furrowed her brows, examining the extract she got in a test tube, “It’s my first time seeing this type.”

Kakashi went feral, “How long?”

The sounds of your coughs filled the quiet atmosphere of the operation room. Every ticking of the clock seemed too audibly loud each passing second the blonde observed the Copy Ninja’s face. She eventually sighed and turned to the exit, “I’m not sure. It will take a while for us to create the antidote.”

“You can’t leave Y/N suffering like this, Lady Tsunade,” he breathed out laboriously, “I can’t.”

Kakashi’s words left his lips like a desperate plea as he stared at the ground. Tsunade shut her eyes to summon enough vigor to walk out of the room. Sakura hesitantly left shortly after, silently closing the door after sending her former sensei a sympathetic look. With shaking legs that were almost unable to hold him up, the silver-haired made his way to a chair beside your bed, tracing his thumb across your lips to wipe the bloodstain away. As a Shinobi, he was too accustomed to seeing open wounds and deep gashes—too familiar with his body covered in blood after a mission, especially when he got injured. But seeing you in this state made him crumble in dejection and turmoil.

“Kakashi,” your inaudible whisper pulled him out of his deep thoughts, “what if I…”

Before you were able to finish your sentence, Kakashi hushed you with a sign as he pulled the blanket up to your chest, “Don’t say anything, love. I’m not going to let you…” And he trailed off, finding it hardly possible to continue what he was saying. You were still in pain, forehead scrunched up to restrain the groans from eliciting, tight fists hidden under the cover because you did not want him to be more distressed than he already was. Kakashi slouched his back, head dropping into his palms, cursing under his breath, “I should’ve come with you, should’ve been more careful, should’ve gotten you to the hospital sooner. I-I’m sorry, Y/N… Please, please just be okay.”

His words fell apart, slipping past his lips muffled and croaked. It had been a long while since he last felt the wet droplets tittering on the edge of his lash line—range and misery boiled in his veins as he swore to himself this would be the last time he would see you like this for as long as he was alive. He did not dare to look at you, not when he had to helplessly witness his dearest person suffering. Your breathing decelerated, the sweats beading your hairline and neck had long evaporated, and you fell asleep between his soft whispers, exhausted and drained.

Every hour passed with dread for everyone. Each time Tsunade came back to check on you set up a thin wall of hope but it all shattered shortly when she shook her head and withdrew out of the room. You were coughing less, but that did not ease the Copy Ninja because you were shriveling impossibly lifeless. You could not swallow whatever food they supplied, only able to intake water and intravenous fluid. It was after lunch when Tsunade knocked on the door—two days since you were brought to the hospital, one day since you went unconscious—and Kakashi went to slide it open for her. No longer displayed a hopeful expression, he could not bear the disappointment and emptiness from the Medic’s shake of her head. But this time, Tsunade came with good news.

“We found the antidote.”

A single sentence from the blonde levitated the somber atmosphere that was clouding Kakashi’s mind. A contented smile found its way across his lips—though covered by the mask, Tsunade could clearly see his pupil dilating and the furrow between his brows starting to slowly vanish. With a quick move, she injected the solution into your arm with Kakashi watching closely, not letting any details went unnoticed.

“The fever should be gone after lunch, I’m not quite sure when Y/N will wake up though. That depends on an individual’s ability to recover.” She stated, “You two take care.”

The silver-haired thanked the Godaime and shut the door after she had left for several seconds. Then, he went back for a quick shower—the last thing he wanted was you worrying for his enervated appearance after two days without rest—not forgetting to plant a kiss on your forehead before leaving. When he returned, Kakashi brought a basket of fresh fruits with him, carefully peeling oranges and placing them on a plate for you in advance. He even went as far as bringing your pillow because you would be staying for another few days, and he wanted to make you feel comfortable. After checking over everything, he leaned his head back and closed his eye, stealing a quick nap with your hand in his—so he would know when you wake up.

The moment your eyes fluttered open, you quickly scanned the room, and your gaze settled on the very Hatake sleeping peacefully, then to his fingers intertwining yours. You let out a soft breath, “Thank you, Kakashi.”

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

Taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @thenightfallingstar @iam-gaaras-loveintrest @animepickle7

[cynettic]

Hello, can I request a reaction with childe, albedo, xiao and diluc where their SO is pretty clumsy and one day, they (the characters) just snap and say mean things? Please end it with comfort or something nice, my heart isnt strong enough to handle full angst :')

Clumsy S/O x Genshin

Summary - As someone clumsy, the genshin boys often pay special attention to your little accidents and mishaps. One day they snap, comforting ending though ;-;

Pairings - ClumsyReader x Childe / Albedo / Xiao / Diluc

Warnings - A bit of possessive behaviour for Xiao- but otherwise, a tad bit of angst at the beginning of each one.

A/N - After I wrote Albedo’s hc I realized that seeing him angry… would be really hot. Might write up a degradation one after-

Childe

“Stop it! It’s not funny anymore!”

It wasn’t surprising that once again, you’d managed to trip on your own feet and now somehow the vase sitting on the stool next to the couch had fallen… and broke.

But it was the first time you’d heard those words come from him.

“What do you mean… stop?”

Childe had never said anything about your clumsy antics, always picking you up and laughing or teasing the situation off. On the occasion that you got hurt, he’d tend to your wounds and make you promise to be more careful. Of course there was always a next time, and next time, and text time…

Until Childe had enough.

“From falling- tripping over your feet and taking down everything with you! No one tumbles around this much… so either you’re just doing this for fun or- or…”

He began to realize after those words that he’d taken it too far. When glancing at your teary eyes and how your figure started to shake he knew he couldn’t take those words back.

He knew it wasn’t your fault, he knew you tried to be as careful as you could.

But it was so frustrating.

You were still laying on the ground from the fall, and he bent down to help you up. You didn’t look him in the eyes, and an empty feeling buried itself in his stomach when you stood up.

“I’m… sorry.”

It was you who spoke these words, shoulders still shaking. You knew it might’ve been frustrating or annoying for Childe.

The two of you are just standing there, Childe feeling ten times guiltier because you apologized, and you feeling terrible because you’d broken another vase and he’d yelled at you for it.

The two of you feel so bad about it- ;-;

It isn’t till Childe acts out and pulls you into a hug that you realize he felt bad for yelling at you. Sure he may have been frustrated, but it was only cause he was worried about your well being, he didnt want you getting hurt.

“Im sorry Y/n… I didn’t mean to act out like that. I know you're trying your best.”

Albedo

“What happened.”

It was supposed to come out as a question, his eyes trailing over the mess of his lab and the sorry pitiful state it was in.

It didn’t come out sounding like a question.

Seeing Albedo angry of all things was only a myth among the knights of Favonius, a joke to Klee, and a topic never brought up to the citizens of Monstadt.

Albedo? Mad?? Impossible.

Well, you were living proof that it indeed wasnt a myth to see the alchemist angry.

“I fell…” was all you said in response to his glare. “I wasn’t paying attention and I tripped against the table… I’m sorry…”

Of course you were sorry, just waiting for Albedo to get home and maybe scanning the lab and all his experiments while he was away. No bad intentions, but unfortunately your bad habit of tripping over your own feet summoned itself at the worst moments.

Usually, Albedo would catch you with utmost ease. A reflex he’d learned from Klee before she went sprinting out to cause more of a ruckus. If you were to get hurt, he’d usher or carry you back into his house before patching you up. It was always quick and painless, but he made you repeat why you’d fell and how to avoid it.

Albedo wouldn’t be comforting you now.

“You fell?” He simply asked, his tone menacing enough to know that it was something important in that jumble of experiments. “You seem to do that a lot nowadays don’t you?”

You’re at a loss for words, “I’ll help you clean it up… I didn’t mean to-”

Not wanting to mention how the glass shards had cut your hand, you stood up with wobbly knees to start picking up the pieces of glass. You were sure your boyfriend had put a lot of work towards this, and you felt terrible for having ruined it all.

Albedo isn’t a savage tho.

He notices the cut on your palm, and your shaky figure as you begin to clean up the mess you’d made. He knows that cleaning up the lab as soon as possible is important, but you’re still his top priority.

“Come here.”

When you don’t immediately go to him, he walks to you. Taking your wrists and getting a good view of the injury. He tugs you to the doorway to get you fixed up, and realizes that you’re shaking, a little bit too much…

“It… seems I was a bit too harsh earlier.” He fully faces you, expression softening. “I’m sorry, I know you didn’t mean to, none of the items on the table were of any importance if it makes you feel better.”

Please let him wipe any stray tears if you do cry, he didn’t mean to sound so angry, and really doesn’t care too much about what was on that table. Poor man’s just had a tough day at work.

Xiao

“I worry for you, every single minute of every goddamn day- every moment that my eyes aren't on you! Why don’t you make it easier for me and just sit still?!”

Xiao is protective.

That fact is known, its accepted, you might even find it endearing.

But Xiao has lived a much longer life than you, he’s seen the people he loves crumple and drain away. Watched them fade from his life one at a time, so he’s dedicated to making sure you stick around.

He knows that eternity isn’t an option for you, so he makes sure that the time you both have together is s a f e . Which means yes, he will catch you every single time you fall. Especially if it’s off the Wangshu stairs that you somehow always trip on?

The poor boy worries excessively for you, so much that he will try to hurry up the process of clearing out the normal hilichurls or threats that lie around Liyue Port.

But on the very rare occasion that you somehow end up into trouble without him there…

You don’t yell “Xiao” like he told you to, you know he makes such an effort on making you safe, a bit too much… you don’t want to summon him to every trouble you have. You’re independent, one scrape isn’t going to kill you.

“I’m fine,” you simply say when he comes back to find your whole hand encompassed in bandages. “Just tripped.”

Xiao is not impressed.

He worries too much, far too much, and seeing you brush it off when he tries so hard to make sure you’re never in pain- he wishes you’d just sit still, wait for him and not trip on your own feet when doing such mundane things.

“I worry for you, every single minute of every goddamn day- every moment that my eyes aren't on you! Why don’t you make it easier for me and just sit still?!”

You’re obviously taken aback by the statement, “Xiao?” You offer him a comforting hug, trying to loosen his stiff muscles. “It’s impossible from protecting me from everything y’know… I appreciate your worry but I’m fine.”

But that’s a matter that is strained between the two of you, and will continue to be that way until either Xiao somehow lets go of his protective anxious faze, or you just accept it.

Either way, the boy will continue to catch you when you fall. Even if you broke apart from him, left him, you’d still occasionally feel the lightest touch when you trip over your feet and feel yourself steadied.

Diluc

“Are you doing this on purpose?!”

Just like Xiao, Diluc is fairly protective over you, especially if it concerns your health.

He’s often not quick enough to catch you, but instead picks you up in his arms and sits you on the table to make sure you’re not hurt.

You often get bruises, but nothing more serious. He makes sure to kiss them better- something you jokingly stated once, and he’s actually taken it seriously.

“Kissing it will make it feel better? You’re sure?”

Overall, Diluc was very understanding to your clumsy antics. Maybe even find it endearing on a hard day of work, either way, he’d never yell at you for it.

Until he had enough.

It’s exhausting, to hear something clatter and know that you’d probably tripped. Tripped and harmed yourself in one way or another, the options were infinite, and Diluc’s anxiety could heighten at the slightest crashing noise.

“Are you doing this on purpose?!”

Eventually it became too much and he asked you that exact question, hands tangling through his hair as he stared at you wide eyed, furious. There you were on the floor, just a single chair knocked down as you were beginning to shakily stand back up.

“No… of course not. I wouldn’t do these things for fun-“

It’s not like you enjoyed absentmindedly stumbling into objects, it just… happened. Diluc was usually so patient and understanding… so why?

“I know… it’s just...” he rubbed the temples on either side of his face with his thumbs, frown set in a line. “I keep worrying and worrying- every time I hear a noise like that…”

It doesn’t take long for him to sort this out through a conversation, and then settle that you need to be more mindful and careful, something you have to improve on. He will simply watch on the sidelines, catch you when he can, and coax you when you end up hurt.

[shurisneakers]

harmless (ii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, stealing cultural landmarks, frustrated bucky

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: made a header 4 this fic but i couldn’t take it seriously enough <3 

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! it’s always fun to hear from y’all. 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

It’s roughly a week before he sees you next.

Right on time too, according to the briefings he had received. Once a week you’d come up with your next batshit crazy idea and someone would be sent to make sure you didn’t execute it.

It was more of a babysitting gig than anything. Most people would do one, maybe two assignments before asking to not be sent again. 

He was not most people. He volunteers to go again. His afternoon is relatively free and he’s bored. 

Also, and more importantly, he needs to get out of the house before Sam finds out what he did.

“You’ll find her near the Statue of Liberty.”

“How do we know?”

“Oh, she tells us.”

“...she tells us where to find her?”

“Most times, yes. She says it’s time efficient.”

Absurd. He thinks you’re absurd.

Bucky finds you in line to board the ferry. You’re dressed to the nines like an obnoxious tourist, even though you were a local, topped with binoculars and a bucket hat. 

On an unrelated note, he thinks that maybe the mission today is to kill you for daring to wear sandals with socks like a suburban dad. A shudder runs through his body when he sees it.  

He’s wearing all black and a baseball cap. Somehow he’s standing out more than you are.

He boards the ferry behind you, keeping a close eye on all your movements. You take your place near the railing, a seat near the front of the boat. 

His phone rings. He answers it, expecting Sam to screech at him for painting Redwing neon pink again. He should have known it was coming after he shoved Bucky off the quinjet before he had time to strap his parachute on properly. 

“I thought I told you to bring a cape.” 

He quickly looks up at you but you’re not facing him. You have your phone held up to your ear, however.

“How did you get this number?” he asks icily.

“I knew you’d show up again.” Your head tilts to look at the statue in the distance. “Also, thanks for the door money, but I’m not sure I appreciate how you think the least creepy way to give someone money is to drop it off anonymously at their doorstep.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” He swiftly gets up, stalking over to where you’re sitting. He was advised not to do anything aggressive. Advised was a flexible word. 

“Because I wasn’t going to answer it.” You look up at his figure looming over you. “Oh, hey.”

The phone is still pressed to the side of your face even though he’s right beside you. He cuts the call, shoving it back into his pocket.

“Allow me to introduce my pl-”

“What are you doing here?” He cuts to the chase. 

You send him a glare. “I was going to say it before you told me to. And sit down before everyone thinks you’re going to kill me.”

“Why are you going there?” He doesn’t have time for this, he thinks. He has important things to do. Like watching the reruns of Masterchef Junior. 

He sits in the seat beside you.

“Look at us.” You grin at him. “Me with the evilest outfit I could think of, you with your... Addams Family cosplay. We’re like, two peas in a po-”

“Start explaining,” he interjects. 

You roll your eyes. “I’m going to shrink the Statue of Liberty and use it as a keychain.”

“What?” It’s probably the most benign plan he’s ever heard in his life.

“I’m kidding.” Oh, good. “I’m not using it as a keychain, I’m taking it to class.” Nevermind. 

“What?” He finds himself repeating his previous question.

“I’m shrinking all the statues I can find. I want to use it in my classroom to teach the kids.”

“You’re... a teacher?” He blinks.

“You got a problem with that?” You look offended, to say the least. 

“No.” It’s not what he would peg your occupation as. He didn’t think you had one at all. “How are you planning on shrinking it?”

You rummage through the ugliest fanny pack he has ever had the misfortune of seeing. You pull out a small ring box, complete with a bow tied neatly on top. 

“I was saving this for our third anniversary, but-” you offer him a nervous laugh.

His stony expression doesn’t change, not even a blink. 

“Fine, Jesus, you’re no fun,” you huff, dropping the emotional act when he doesn’t look amused. 

You flip open the lid. Inside there are a few small disks. It looks familiar, he realises.

“Your friend Ant-Boy didn’t file a patent, so I just took his whole shtick.” He wants to defend Scott’s honour; it’s Ant-Man not boy. He doesn’t. He’s too transfixed on what you have in your hand.

“Pym particles.”

“The diet version.” You pick up one of them carefully. “A ripoff, but effective. Just gotta attach it to the thing I want to shrink and give it a few minutes.”

“You’re going to steal the Statue of Liberty,” he says, frankly a little taken aback that you were serious.

“Would you relax? I’ll put it back.”

“That’s not the point,” he damn near exclaims. “You can’t take away the Statue of Liberty just because you feel like it.”

“I literally can.” You point to the chips in your hand. “That’s the point of this, keep up.”

He feels exasperated. He didn’t sign up for this when he became an Avenger.

“Give me the box.” He makes a grab for it but you yank it away from his reach.

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

“I don’t have time for this.” His reruns would begin in an hour.

“That’s my problem, because...” you trail off. 

He rolls his eyes, makes a grab at the box again. His tactic is different this time. He stealthily pins one of your arms down so that you’re basically incapacitated.

“Hey! Stop that.” You fumble against his reach, shoving him with your elbow.

“Just give me the thing and we can all go home for the day,” he huffs, unfazed by your squirming.

“No! Over my dead bod-” 

He doesn’t immediately notice what goes wrong in the scuffle. 

Until you look at the ground near your feet. A disk lay there, undisturbed.

“Is that-” All of a sudden, either he’s getting taller or the ceiling of the boat is getting lower.

“Oops,” you say, not remorseful in the slightest. 

“Are we going to-”

“I’d give it five minutes max.” 

Great. He was stuck on a boat that was beginning to shrink. The other passengers were either oblivious or ignorant to seats that were starting to become too small for them, but Bucky’s heightened senses and extreme reflexes made it hard to skip.

He nudges the piece of tech with his foot. Maybe he can kick it off the boat.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you warn solemnly. He wants to disagree but doesn’t know enough about the device to dispute you. 

“Fix this,” he hisses, panic slightly rising. His fingers find their way to his phone to send out an emergency text requesting backup and mass evacuation. 

“I think it’s a rather lovely day for a swim, don’t you?” You stare dreamily at the waves that were inching closer up the boat. 

Or you were inching closer to the water. Technicalities were frivolous. 

“There are other people on this boat.”

“River’s big enough for all of us, I reckon.”

“Fix it.” 

“Or what?” There’s a wicked gleam in your eye. “We both know I have the upper hand here.”

“Or I call the entirety of the Avengers here and haul your ass to prison.”

“Will they bring snacks?”

You’re insufferable. You know it. But you also are the fastest way to get out of this situation and right now, he didn’t want to be responsible for a shipwreck simulation. 

“Fine. Tell me what you want.”

“I like soy chips.”

“Soy chi-” He nearly throws his hands up in frustration. “You know what I’m talking about.” 

“I want one historical artifact so I can impress the kids. They think I’m the cool teacher and I want to keep that reputation alive.”

“What makes you think I can arrange for that?”

“You’ve been alive since goddamn dinosaurs roamed this earth, I’m sure you have some connections.” You pause to assess his face. “You know, you don’t look a day over 29. Dermatologists must hate yo-”

“I’ll get you an artifact, now fix the fuckin’ boat.”

“You promise?” You grin brightly. 

He stares at you. You are unyielding. 

The boat’s uncomfortably small and people are beginning to take notice. Worried murmurs fill the air behind him.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You shrug simply.

You kneel over, picking up the chip from the ground. You do nothing else for two minutes, instead turning away from him to look at the Statue of Liberty that was coming closer.

It takes him a while to realise that half his body isn’t hanging off his chair anymore. The ceiling is moving further and further away from the top of his head. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He wants to strangle you. 

Why did he listen to you when all of this would have been over the minute he kicked it off the ship. 

“You can drop it off at my lair on Monday and pick it up on Friday.” You gather your belongings, leaving him steaming behind you. “Nice talkin’ to ya, Sergeant.” 

You step over him, flashing him a quick smile before walking off the boat with the rest of the tourists as if nothing had just taken place. When he looks down, the stupid ring box is on his lap.

He sits there, unmoving, eyes fixed on the container.

The ferry conductor asks if he’s going to get off the boat. 

He simply shakes his head.

Next part

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

outsider pov deancas, 2.4k, based after the good finale. for @bloodsigilsandpie <3

"it's happening."

natasha returns to the kitchen, her otherwise suppressed glee betrayed by the glint in her eyes as she declares to the entire room. "they're on a date."

chloe's the first to react, or rather, the spoons in her hand that promptly drop back into the foam are. "no way."

"way." farah rushes close to natasha, gushing. "did they tell you?"

natasha sniffs, depositing the plates in the sink with her back turned to her eager audience.

"do you think they told me?"

she doesn't wait for an answer, turning around and leaning back against the counter.

"of course they didn't tell me. but i," she smirks. "i could tell."

"oh, you could tell." hutch repeats mockingly, and a few others snicker. "nat, we're talking about the trenchcoat dude who never smiles, and big-car-black-coffee-loyal-to-the-pie guy. no one has ever been able to tell anything with those two. and they don't look anything more than unlikely work friends to me either."

"unlikely work friends don't look at each other like that!" farah chastises immediately.

"fine. unlikely work friends with repressed homosexual urges from the 80's."

"hutch, if you're going to insult my date-dar, do it to my face!" natasha scowls, earning herself another eyeroll and a defensive palms-up gesture from the skeptic sous-chef.

"he literally just did." chloe mutters, ever the devil's advocate, before farah interrupts. she'd always been their resident 'trenchcoat dude who never smiles and big-car-black-coffee-loyal-to-the-pie guy' shipper. there tend to be one of those for all such couples the waitstaff discusses on the regular, really.

"so, how can you tell? what's different?"

"well for one," natasha grins. "trenchcoat dude's not wearing his trenchcoat."

a commotion of gasps come up from arguably most stations of the kitchen — even those who weren't a part of the discussion before.

"is it on the back of his chair? did car-guy help him take it off?" farah instantly pipes up, her eyes wide and hopeful. (hutch and her are the newest waiters, natasha remembers with a midge of distaste. sometimes it's too obvious.)

"no. it's nowhere in sight." she admits, eyebrows raised.

"maybe it ripped." that's hutch.

"maybe he finally realized that thing was doing nothing for him." dallas. everybody knows he's got a thing for trench coat dude though, so nobody bats an eye.

"maybe car-guy told him." chloe shrugs.

"hey, maybe somebody else did." hutch again.

"that's not the point." natasha butts in. "car-guy's better dressed too. i don't know much about old people fashion — chloe, if you don't stop looking at me like that — but i think ascots are supposed to be fancy."

"he wore a what —" several voices echo, and just then, freya enters the kitchen, beaming. (second year at the diner, loads of tattoos, and has a lovely girlfriend at the domino's across the street. natasha likes her.)

"you guys'll never guess what happened."

hutch and dallas sigh in unison, and farah giggles a little. "you won't guess what happened here either!"

"me first. trenchcoat dude and car-guy are on a date."

chloe snorts, picking up two prepared plates of food from one of the side chef's stations, and setting off out the door freya just entered from. important to find a job-gossip balance and all that.

natasha turns to the new informant. "what did you see?"

"car-guy asked trenchcoat what he wanted for dessert." freya beams.

"this just in, men can learn manners." hutch inputs before exiting with his own tray.

"car-guy might always order the pie but it looks mutual!" farah points out indignantly but he's gone already.

nevermind, he'll be back in five.

"and what did trenchcoat say?" natasha asks, ignoring the other two.

"milkshake," freya replies, writing it on a post-it as she says it.

"one shake, two straws." farah gasps. "come on, frey. tell me it was one shake, two straws."

"two shakes, two straws." she scribbles away.

"maybe they're gonna share both." farah quickly supplies.

"nobody does that, farah." dallas retorts, and natasha makes a face at him, not willing to kill the former's hopes just yet. farah tends to get this forlorn look on her face when things go wrong — and it always reminds natasha of her dead cousin.

she clears her throat.

"look, it can be a date without the shared milkshake, people." a few thoughtful sounds come up, the gates swing, and chloe walks back in. "plus, we've still got all the staring, the lingering looks over the menu, the soulful eyefu —"

"but that's everyday, nat." freya sighs.

"it's different today —"

"— you know it isn't —"

"— and i can prove it." natasha finishes, earning herself looks of surprise from almost everyone around. she can, though. the diner's got a valentines discount on milkshakes all month, she can approach them about it. trenchcoat and car-guy don't have to know it's not just for couples. and on the (really, really) offchance that they aren't one, natasha could always just minus the discount from the total anyway and no one would be the wiser.

the idea had just come to her but she was fairly sure she could swing it.

farah had already picked up a tray with two soup bowls and a dish of croutons, but she puts it down, and replaces the to-be-forlornness with excitement. "how?"

"i'll," natasha smirks again. "talk to them."

another round of gasps. in this kitchen, the people were nothing if not dramatic.

this time, freya's the one who asks, "how?"

"well, i haven't waitressed for twelve years just to go about rattling off trade secrets, kids." natasha winks, and a few of them make indignant noises because only about one third of the staff was what could broadly be called new. most of them had been there for years, and were practically a part of her family now. but she picks up her own tray smoothly, conveniently having been slid to her counter just then, and sets off — to an audience of hopeful believers (and dallas)'s matching stares.

(natasha isn't exactly free of the flair for drama she'd just accused everyone in this kitchen of.)

once outside, she makes a beeline for the table her tray is actually for, leaves them it, and quickly heads for the infamous trenchcoat and car-guy table.

this is so going to work.

"so then i cut his —" car-guy stops mid-sentence, spotting her. a part of natasha seethes to know what he 'cut off', but being fodder for the kitchenstaff's are-they-dating games didn't take away their rights to privacy, and she respected those. the car-guy smiles shortly at her. "what's the matter," his eyes flick down to her nametag, flick right back. (definitely a good sign; most men linger.) "natasha?"

she puts on her best smile. "it's about the milkshakes."

"is there a problem?" car-guy eases into a wider smile. "do you not have them, not a single one, and do we have to order pie instead?"

car-guy's partner shakes his head exasperatedly. "dean, i hardly think that's what she'd be here about."

"well, a guy's gotta dream." car-guy — dean — instantly says, and goes back to his burger while trenchcoat speaks up instead.

"what's the matter?"

natasha doesn't let her smile budge. it's a hell of a customer service smile, she's been told. "i actually came here to ask if you would like me to add the date dessert discount on the milkshake. it's an all-february thing. not on all items." she clarifies, a reflexive response for why it hasn't come up before.

genius.

dean looks a little cornered — trenchcoat just looks confused.

"i don't understand." he says, after a moment's pause. "the milkshakes cost less just if dean and i are here on a date...?"

"it's not —" she balks a little at his seriousness. "it's actually not that big of a difference."

"that's...alright." trenchcoat tilts his head, and natasha suddenly realizes she's physically fighting the urge to stare. shit, dallas isn't half-wrong. "but why just milkshakes?"

dean lets out an uncomfortable laugh. "capitalism trying to crap all over the free man's heart and the supremacy of pie not enough reason for ya, cas?"

natasha stifles a smile.

that's actually a good line. maybe car-guy deserves more credit than just loyal-to-the-pie.

trenchcoat — okay, cas, at least while she's out here — still looks a little doubtful (and she has no idea why) but he nods at dean, and then looks up at her and nods again. "add the discount."

natasha has to resist the urge to let her jaw drop.

this entire conversation, she'd practically been sure they were heading towards a rejection of the 'date' clause. and her gut told her they weren't lying either.

well, well. always thrilling to be right.

"and thank you for telling us about it." cas continues, and her practised smile returns immediately. probably a little less obligatory.

"of course."

and dean still looks like he'd rather cut more whatever-he-was-talking-about's off rather than be here right now, so natasha goes to leave. but cas stops her right before she's out of reach.

"excuse me." he's the one smiling this time. "if you're not busy right away, could you tell us what other items are eligible for the february date discount?"

dean facepalms. "come on, dude."

cas gives him a look — and natasha was right, of course she was right, that's not a exasperated 'friend' look. "i'd like to know, dean."

to natasha's knowledge, they've never had trouble paying for anything before (hernandez, she thinks one of their surnames is, she's seen it on a card) but she can't object to 'cas' asking, of course. curiosity is also a well-off man's right.

"why?" dean asks vehemently, before she can start to rattle off the list.

"because," cas answers levelly. actually, he kind of sounds like he's using his dad voice. maybe he is a dad. "i think it's strange that we've never gotten the discount before, while we've been eating lunch here almost this entire month."

it's again hard for natasha to not just stare gapmouthed at them.

"those have been dates." she realizes belatedly and out loud, and receives a weird, distasteful look from dean, and an immediate nod from cas that makes her blurt out, "so this isn't your...first date."

they're dating.

oh, farah was going to lose her mind.

"is that a requisite clause?" cas asks politely, while dean just scrubs his face with a hand.

"no." she tells cas truthfully. "i'm sorry, i just assumed it was. your first, i mean."

"lady, we certainly don't look first date aged to me." dean butts in, not hostile, but like it's something that irks him. "and we've been married four years, so one would desperately hope it's not our first date, y'know."

married.

they're friggin' married.

natasha is an idiot, and her date-dar is probably due for an early retirement.

they've been married for four years.

"i'm...very sorry." she apologizes, mortified. "i had no idea. i —"

"it's fine." this time, dean's smiling, and cas's confused frown is back. it's like they take turns. natasha is almost grateful for it, to be fair, because both those smiles directed at her would've been a helluva lot more distracting. "really doesn't matter. and yeah, sure, add the milkshake discount but don't worry about the list of items." he turns to cas. "just have sam look it up for you when we get home. please."

cas seems to be prepared to acquiesce to that but natasha can't help her own curiosity this time. "is that your son?"

and she's halfway to regretting it the moment she registers having said it, even though thankfully neither of them look too offended. in fact, cas is back to smiling.

"he's dean's brother." cas tells her. "he's the one with jack right now." he pauses. "it's easier because he and eileen live with us."

"yeah, an in-house sitter who doesn't even like going out is really a department we won in." dean grins, solely at cas. as if he's momentarily forgotten all about natasha's presence (that had clearly been making him uncomfortable talking in front of, earlier) in just looking at his husband. natasha sends out a quick pre-prayer for farah. "sucks for eileen though."

"eileen is very happy with your brother, dean." cas chastises, his eyes nothing but affectionate even then, and natasha's head reels with how much she has to tell the waitstaff today.

they're going to friggin' adore her.

"so jack is your son," she confirms, less wary of their reaction to her question now that they looked to have settled into their own silent conversation.

"he's our son, yes." cas replies, simply.

"like, you and him." she flashes a smile at dean.

"us and sam." cas corrects, and dean facepalms again. for her part, natasha can do little more than blink.

"but —"

"it's complicated." dean cuts her off suddenly, and she flinches. he didn't even deny it, just...sidestepped it.

"i — i see." natasha clears her throat, still looking at cas in bewilderment.

cas probably doesn't notice because he's talking to dean again. "it's significantly less complicated than claire's parentage, dean. she has over six parental —"

jesus christ.

"aaand that's enough trivia for date night." dean interrupts loudly again, definitely for the best, because natasha was standing there like a thoughtless statue at this point. his raised voice shakes her out of her reverie, and she vaguely calculates the chances of crashing into a table if she tried to walk away right away.

"i'll," she mumbles instead, drawing in a breath forcefully. "i'll be back with your milkshakes."

"thank you!" cas calls after her as she half wobbles on her heels back to the kitchen.

inside, she puts her empty tray on the metal counter and her hands on both sides of it, bowing her head, and almost immediately ending up surrounded by a plethora of people — most of whom, in normal circumstances, would just have been eavesdropping from their respective stations.

farah's the first to ask, followed by hutch.

"so?"

"what did you find out?"

natasha closes her eyes. "they're married."

this time, the commotion is the largest yet. but she isn't done.

"and every single one of their meals here have been dates." freya pumps her fist, chloe squeezes farah's hand, and dallas tsks under his breath. the 'gallery' watchers appear ready to join in the cheering as well today. but the entire kitchen senses she isn't done yet, and waits fidgetingly for the rest of it.

"and," natasha swallows. "they're almost definitely in a cult."

[sickstarlight]

different causes of sickness

a friend had asked me for some advice on how I write differences between different types of sickness or reasons someone could get sick! so I typed up a reference of details I try to keep in mind in my writing. not by any means meant to be comprehensive but these are some of the more common things I see used or use myself!

eta: if you found this interesting or useful consider tipping me on kofi (/jallyns) or getting a $5 commission so I can fix my computer

drinking related:

drank too much: everyone’s threshold for this is going to be different obvs both in terms of how much alcohol they need and how wasted they’re able/willing to be before getting sick. also ime you have to be QUITE drunk for being drunk alone to make you sick, to the point where it may be dangerous, so personally I like this combined with something else - motion, something not sitting right in their stomach, etc - but it can be good otherwise too. probably the first thing the character will notice or be aware of if they have any warning is that being drunk stops feeling good at this point. they might feel flushed and/or clammy and will probably feel dizzy, their mouth might feel really dry depending on what they’ve been drinking. this is probably also the point where they recognize they have limited control of their body, feet might feel too heavy to move or head might be spinning, may feel very clumsy and suddenly become AWARE of it.

they might FEEL motion sick even if they’re not moving too because their motion sense is fucked at this point. might feel heavy but this is likely to be a whole body heaviness NOT just their stomach (though they might be very aware of it); might or might not be able to place the feeling of nausea. maybe burping but it depends on what they’ve been drinking (carbonated or not, mixed with soda, etc) and what else they ate! they MIGHT feel okay after throwing up but their friend probably shouldn’t let them drink anymore even if they do.

also this might come with very little warning, they may go from feeling fine and giggling with their friends to suddenly feeling Wrong to hurling all over the floor in a matter of minutes or even a few seconds. if they have friends with them who have been with them drunk regularly, depending on who’s more sober their friends might notice they look unsteady and/or queasy before they realize they don’t feel well.

other good things here: alcohol that tastes so strong it’s all they can taste when they throw it back up, feeling dizzy but not placing it as nauseous right away, feeling like their head is too heavy to lift. reeling on their feet when a drink hits them too hard and feeling the whole room spin.

drank too quickly - more likely to come on SUPER suddenly, but they’ll probably recognize it right away (unless they’ve already been drinking) because the alcohol hasn’t had time to get to their brain yet. so with gradually drinking more than they should they will get drunk first and THEN get sick, but if they drink too much too fast right off the bat they’ll start to feel some effects probably but they’ll also know pretty quick that their drinks aren’t gonna stay down.

hung over - throwing up from a hangover is a combination of a buildup of alcohol byproducts in the stomach, and the stomach lining being irritated + producing more acid. a headache is also a significant part of the misery of a hangover but (unlike a migraine, where the pain directly leads to vomiting) isn’t necessarily related to any queasiness, so the headache might get worse with sound, light, or movement, but their stomach likely won’t. they might feel a little like they have heartburn (or actually GET some acid reflux) from acid buildup, and their stomach might be sore or feel too warm as well as being upset. 

the only real cure for a hangover is slow sips of clear fluids and bland foods to help settle the stomach and reduce the acid, but lots of people swear by other things - certain kinds of foods, drinking more alcohol, etc, so that’s something you can have fun with! depending on how much alcohol is still in their bloodstream, they might also still feel a little drunk/tipsy and have some issues with their balance, thinking clearly, etc, which could make the nausea worse; also some people might always get sick from hangovers but others might not so consider how your character deals with that! They also might wake up sick, or feel sick right away, or might not feel sick at all until trying to get some fluids or take meds for their headache (especially since ibuprofen/aspirin also irritate the stomach lining).

food related:

ate too much -  character will likely feel bloated and tight, food might feel heavy in their stomach. depending on what they’re stuffed with there might be burping esp if there’s a lot of gas in their stomach, or a lot of gagging and unproductive dry heaving if it’s very heavy/solid. might need to drink something to get anything up, or have help from someone, or might just take a while to finally puke as their overstuffed stomach struggles to break down their meal enough that their stretched out muscles can get anything moving. any firm pressure on the stomach is gonna feel worse and likely to make them gag even if they’re not ready to throw up yet. maybe weak strained tummy noises as they try to digest. (side note if a lot of their stomach contents are liquid like soup, drinks, etc they’ll throw that up a lot faster; also a good excuse to discuss sloshing/jostling/swirling around in their tummy)

ate too quickly - ties in well to eating too much since it’s easy eating in a hurry to not realize you’re full until it’s already a little late - eating or drinking anything too fast can also make some people’s stomachs hurt or get upset in general, and is an easy way to end up swallowing a lot of air which can obviously lead to feeling much more full and tight with lots of burping that could easily bring up more!

ate something bad - this could be rotten, poorly prepared, or just something that upsets their stomach but what it is might change the feeling of it so there’s definitely variety here. probably also feels heavy but more localized, like they can feel the specific food they ate and where it’s settled in their stomach. might also be painful and cause cramping and tenderness. imo nausea from this is more likely to come in waves and recede but might also be more readily recognizable as nausea. some things I like in this scenario - character thinking about what they ate and feeling worse, imagining they can feel individual parts of their food in their stomach, burping and tasting what they ate (possibly noticing the taste having gone sour / etc in their stomach). good place to describe stuff like how greasy smt was/feeling the grease coating their stomach, or otherwise talk about the specific way the food feels in their tummy and how much it makes them want to puke. unlike with eating too much, they’re likely not to feel better until ALL of the offending food is out of their stomach (while with overeating, they may throw up a few times and then start to feel better once there’s less pressure on their stomach).

general notes - if something the character ate is what’s making them feel sick, a lot of focus on hyperawareness of how much food is in their stomach/how heavy it feels are gonna be big sensory things (as well as maybe taste, pressure/tightness, stomach contents moving around)

illness

appendicitis - if you’re looking for something more serious than food poisoning or a stomach bug, this is sure to end up with a character in the hospital as they’ll need surgery! the big distinguishing thing is pain, which will be sharp and located on the lower right side of the abdomen (or may start near the navel and move down). any kind of exertion or sudden muscle movement can make the pain worse. if the character or one of their caretakers is knowledgeable and suspects appendicitis, they might do the rebound test, which causes pain to get drastically worse AFTER placing pressure on the area and releasing it. sickness usually begins after the pain starts and may get worse when something exacerbates the pain as well.

in addition to nausea and vomiting, other symptoms can include fever, bloating, and bowel issues (either diarrhea or constipation), which will usually get worse over the course of the infection. if the character is treated soon enough (within 2-3 days) they’ll usually feel better after surgery and recover relatively quickly, but if they’re not seen by a doctor and the appendix ruptures they’ll likely need more extensive treatment including antibiotics and a longer hospital stay to make sure they won’t develop sepsis. (in some cases, symptoms could seem to suddenly go away when the appendix ruptures because it releases pressure, but worse symptoms would rapidly develop!)

rarely, there’s also such thing as chronic appendicitis, where milder symptoms may appear and recede over the course of weeks or months before developing into acute appendicitis and prompting surgery.

coughs, colds, strep, etc - can all cause vomiting as secondary symptoms thanks to postnasal drip, throat irritation, or forceful coughing. serious enough throat irritation or buildup of mucus can make a character gag, or feel the need to, and so can coughing up phlegm from their chest. if they’re sniffly and have their sinuses draining down the back of their throat, they may end up swallowing a lot of mucus too which can make them feel nauseous as their stomach gets full of sticky snot. I think these work best as emeto scenarios for characters with weak gag reflexes!

food poisoning - separate from eating something bad because food poisoning from a virus or bacteria is a longer lasting illness with a later onset; the character may first get sick within a few hours of eating the contaminated food, or it may incubate and make them sick within a day or two. like stomach flu (also frequently foodborne) many types can cause both vomiting and diarrhea, but symptoms vary depending on specific cause. characters also might puke early on and then develop more symptoms and become sicker later as bacteria multiply and produce toxins, and may take several days to recover from the later onset where they could have persistent nausea, or might feel okay and even regain their appetite if they don’t try to eat  but be unable to keep much or any food down. most types of food poisoning also cause pain, swelling, bloating, and cramping, usually in the lower part of the stomach and upper intestines, so those are other symptoms your character might have to deal with in addition to puking!

stomach flu - character may be feverish or achy as well as nauseous while their body fights the infection, which is an additional great source of hurt/comfort fuel! can cause both vomiting and diarrhea, so even food they manage to keep down might still sting them later. because it directly causes irritation and inflammation in the stomach and lower GI tract, character might throw up frequently or after every meal, or might be able to handle clear fluids but no solids, or some bland foods but nothing with significant sugar, spices, or fat. they also might only be able to drink or eat in very small amounts without bringing it back up. their stomach may hurt and feel like it’s cramping even if they haven’t tried to eat, and they may get only very brief relief of nausea after each time they’re sick because it reduces the immediate pressure on the stomach but not the inflammation; they might feel nauseous constantly or end up dry heaving even when there’s nothing in their stomach, and might need to keep a basin of some kind nearby for a couple of days since they can’t be sure if they’re done. dehydration is a common complication and can cause headaches, weakness, and dizziness in addition to other symptoms! the most common stomach virus, norovirus, is also EXTREMELY contagious, and virus particles can aerosolize and scatter widely during vomiting, so the caretaker may not be safe either.

injury, other medical

anaesthesia - people react to this in all kinds of ways but getting sick is really common so it can be combined with just about any reaction. character might be disoriented or dizzy and have trouble with balance, walking, other coordinated movement. some might be really confused and have trouble communicating their ideas clearly or say things that might not make any sense to other characters. from the anaesthetized character’s perspective though they’re  probably making total sense so it can also be fun to include their muddled thought process and what they’re feeling or thinking that they express in weird ways! other characters might feel pretty clearheaded and be able to communicate clearly though. they might feel “light” or like they're floating, or very  detached from their body; this may cause more dizziness and vertigo. they may also be cold they might feel nauseous right away and persistently from the anaesthetic irritating their stomach, or might only get sick from moving that makes the “floating” feeling worse. general anaesthetic is usually used for surgery so if they aren’t immediately nauseous the character can also wake up really hungry from fasting before, so eating too much or too quickly might also make them realize they’re nauseous and end up with them puking.

concussion - there are a lot of reasons someone might get sick from a concussion, but the most common (non threatening) are vertigo / vestibular disturbance and headaches! the character might  get nauseous or throw up when they turn too quickly or stand up too fast if their balance center is disrupted, or might have head pain similar to a migraine that makes them sick and can have similar sensitivities. mild concussions without other complications can still last up to a week after the injury, but the character should get sick less and less often as time goes on, so the most intense phase for sickness caused by a concussion is shortly after it happens! Frequently repeated or prolonged bouts of vomiting are often signs of more serious injury though, so if you’re keeping it mild they should probably be brief and a little spaced out even early on, though a character might have intermittent nausea between them. other symptoms of concussion are important too here - big ones are short term amnesia, loss of coordination, difficulty concentrating, and confusion. they might also hear ringing in their ears or sometimes have visual disturbances like in migraines! 

migraine - the pain from migraines can directly cause vomiting, especially when it’s at its peak, but it might also be caused by aura effects on balance and vision! (some people get tunnel vision or “kaleidoscope” vision with migraines, some just get dizzy, some people even hallucinate strong smells or tastes which could also lead to nausea!) for some people, the headache gets better after throwing up, but not everyone; they also might or might not feel the buildup of nausea or persistent nausea throughout their migraine, or alternately might retch or throw up almost IMMEDIATELY when any trigger makes their pain worse (common triggers are bright or flashing light, loud or high pitched sounds, strong smells, and sudden movement, but people have lots of different triggers so they can be a lot of things!) many people can’t chase off a migraine until after they’ve slept so you might also include them trying to get comfortable only to have their head start hurting worse or their stomach get upset and make them scramble to get over the trash bin.

motion sickness - anyone can get motion sick but some people are more prone to it than others! so you might have characters who always get motion sick in any moving vehicle, or who are okay in cars but can’t travel on water, or who only get sick with intense movement like on roller coasters - or characters who aren’t prone to motion sickness in general, but discover they get it when fatigued, anxious, etc. different characters might also experience it differently - for some there may be a cycle of gradual buildup of nausea until it becomes unbearable and they throw up, while for others it might come on suddenly, or they might have low level nausea throughout a trip but only puke when there’s a more sudden or violent movement. some people also only get motion sick after a period of time, and might be fine on short trips but get sick if they’re traveling longer.

other notes: many people who get carsick don’t get sick if they’re driving! being able to get fresh air also helps many people, as well as focusing on the horizon if possible. some people prone to motion sickness will also experience the opposite when sitting still but watching movement onscreen like in a video game. likewise, reading or looking at a still object for long while moving can trigger motion sickness, even in people who are less prone to it otherwise.