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chlix · 27 days ago

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treatment resistant

bf! chan x fem! reader: he comforts you during a mental health episode

pairing: chan x reader

genre: ANGST like seriously, turns into comfort at the end tho 🙏🏾

word count: 4.7k

warnings: graphic depictions of depression, anxiety/anxiety attacks, and psychosis (paranoia); self worth issues; general self-loathing

a/n: i wrote this in one sitting about six months ago and deliberated posting it, but it's almost the end of the year so i feel like i should release it. i used to feel so validated by fics where reader is depressed and gets comforted, but she was never as depressed as i sometimes was, so i drew a bit from life for this one. everyone please be safe and read the warnings <3

It doesn't start with the dishes. In fact, you think your therapist might tell you that it's not about the dishes at all, but about your own poor self-image, or lack of emotional regulation, or about a thousand other things that are wrong with the way you perceive yourself and the world.

The truth is that lately you've been sleeping way too late and waking up too early, and you're so tired that you can't eat, which makes you so hungry that you can't take naps. You're between jobs and the outlook hasn't been great, your best friend keeps blowing you off in favor of her new boyfriend, and just this week you found out that your favorite bakery is no longer making the souffles that you've been using as a pick me up since you moved into this building.

You don't do well with change, or rejection, or honestly anything, lately. You wake up stressed and you go to sleep stressed. You keep your phone on Do Not Disturb because you can't bear receiving notifications. Just today you've talked yourself out of taking showers twice, only to have a meltdown when you tried to sit on your bed because you felt too dirty to touch your own sheets. You sit on the floor instead. You eat a singular banana for lunch, just to make your headache go away. Your headache does not go away. You feel both unreal and painfully solid, sinking into the ground and on the verge of floating away.

Your boyfriend, Chan, keeps texting you updates about his day, and answering them feels like an exercise in performance art. You scroll through your previous texts to make sure you're adding the right amount of exclamation points, that you're using the same recent emojis. It's like cosplaying a happier version of yourself. A better version, a version that he could love, as opposed to how you are now: greasy and gross and plastered to the floor in your hallway. The idea of him seeing you like this fills you terror, or at least it would if you hadn't burned out your capacity for feeling things already.

A new message pops up.

Chan: Hey baby ❤️ Was thinking of swinging by tonight after work? I can bring dinner with me

Just the thought of eating threatens to make you vomit. You suck in a breath and hold it as you type,

You: If you want something specific go for it! I already started cooking but we could have it another time

Chan: I don't want to waste all your hard work. We can have what you're making. I'm sure it'll be delicious :)

You: I can promise edible. Delicious is up in the air rn 😭

Chan: I have faith in you even if you don't ❤️. I'll be there around seven today

You: Okay! I love you sm, see you then! ❤️❤️❤️

You lock your phone and throw it across the room. Why do you do this to yourself? "Already started cooking?" You haven't showered today. Normally you try to deter Chan from coming over when you're having a freakazoid episode, but now you've basically invited him in? You have to be normal for an entire evening?

You fall on your back on the ground and put your hands over your face, blocking out the sunshine that insists on steaming through the cracks in the drapes. Your heart is beating so hard you worry you're going into cardiac arrest.

Get off the fucking ground, y/n, you tell yourself. You have to go cook dinner for your boyfriend.

"There is something very wrong with me," you say out loud, very quietly. The silence of your apartment swallows the words. They vanish, as if never said.

You get up.

It takes you two tries to make something even passing as edible. Your head is all over the place, and you burn batches of oil and veggies before you manage to stay in your body long enough to finish making anything. It takes an embarrassing amount of pans and spoons and bowls to make something that should be simple, and as dishes pile up in the sink you feel stupider and stupider. Why are you acting like you don't know how to cook? It's not hard to make some vegetables in stew. You don't know why it's taking every appliance in your kitchen and all of your concentration to execute such a simple task.

By the time you're done cooking, you've stressed yourself out enough that you're getting a tension headache. You close your eyes and brace yourself against the sink, rallying yourself.

Just do these dishes and then you can sit down, you think. Just one more thing.

You pick up a sponge.

You put the sponge down.

There is no way you can do these dishes.

It doesn't so much hit you like a train as the realization slowly creeps up on you. It's not that many dishes, really. It looks like a lot, because the pots and bowls are so large, but numerically there's very few items in your sink. It wouldn't even take 30 minutes to clean everything and leave it in the rack for later.

But that's not happening. The idea fills you with a cold and genuine dread, just as strong and perverse as when you'd tried to shower earlier, or sit on your bed. You can't turn on the tap because then the water will touch you, and it will feel Wrong, and then your whole body will feel Wrong, and then you'll die of Sudden Onset Wrongness. And now that you think about it, a lot of your anxiety today has revolved around water, and isn't that a symptom of rabies? Hydrophobia? Did you get rabies somehow? Would you know if you had rabies? Maybe that's the thing that's wrong with you- you're not depressed or insane or just a terrible person living a terrible life. You're just rabid. There's something eating your brain, and that's what's making you into such a fucking failure of a person.

While you're debating the possibility of brain-eating viruses, Chan comes home from work. You automatically turn towards him, a bright smile on your face, and rush to greet him.

"Hey, Channie!" you say, bouncing over to him with a pep you do not feel. "I'm so happy you're here!"

And you are, mostly. You love your boyfriend, really you do. He's loving and attentive, and he's never made you feel like anything less than the number one priority in his life. You have similar values and work ethics, which keeps you on the same page through most difficult periods in either of your lives and careers. You haven't been together long, but your bond is solid, and you really believe you're going to make it far together.

You also really believe you won't if he ever finds out what a complete nutcase you are. So you hide it. You grin at him and you appear light and joyful and easygoing and you brush off his concerns with adages and placations, and you redirect the conversation back to him, because you're a good listener and you love the sound of his voice and you much prefer that activity to any activity that involves you explaining how you laid on the floor for five hours and had an emotional breakdown while slicing cabbage. He has other things to worry about, other problems to solve without adding yourself to the list. You're supposed to be his respite, not another draining task. He doesn't need to know how hard it's been lately. You shouldn't have to say it.

So he doesn't. And you don't.

"Hey baby," he says. He sets his stuff down and kisses you in greeting. "How was your day?"

"Okay," you say. The answer feels curt, but you don't want to ruminate any more on your absolutely fruitless afternoon.

Chan doesn't comment on your strange answer. He takes his shoes off and hangs up his coat, and as he's about to walk past you he spots the mountain of dishes in the kitchen.

"Oh, were you about to do the dishes? I can do them if you'd like."

"You just got home," you protest. "You should go sit down."

"But you've been standing just as long cooking dinner, right? I should do my part."

His insistence is making something terrible expand in your gut. Instead of being flattered at his offer to help, his words feel like a violent condemnation. You should've done the dishes before he got home. You should've finished cleaning the kitchen altogether, so that he can relax in a clean environment. What kind of stupid fucking girlfriend are you, where you can't even do basic chores around the house?

"No, it's okay. I already psyched myself up to do them, so I'll do them."

Chan hums in a tone that's either playful or mocking, you genuinely can't tell which. "Okay, if you say so. Don't be afraid to tap out if the dishes get the better of you."

Great. He thinks you're so stupid you couldn't do the dishes if you tried.

You subtly regulate your breathing as you turn towards the sink. Chan disappears into the apartment out of view, and you give yourself thirty seconds to push your freak-out as far down inside you as you can.

"You're not an idiot, y/n," you tell yourself. "You can do some fucking dishes."

You reach under the sink and pull out some disposable plastic gloves. They make your hands look weirdly swollen and unfamiliar, as if they aren't your hands anymore. For a bizarre moment, you're convinced that they're genuinely not, that someone else's hands have been put on your body. You close your eyes so hard sparks fly in front of you.

Stop being crazy. Do the fucking dishes.

You turn on the water and pick up a bowl.

Chan reappears. You flash him a smile, but say nothing. Chan grins back, all dimples and crescent eyes. He's so handsome it makes you want to rip your own skin off. You thank God every day that you were born beautiful, because you could never have caught his attention with your personality alone. He'd be completely out of your league, and honestly, maybe he still is.

That thought gets shut down and pushed away. One crisis at a time. You don't have hands and you might have rabies, but you definitely have a boyfriend who loves you. There's no point in kicking yourself while you're down.

You turn back to the sink.

You cannot do these fucking dishes.

"Work was funny today," Chan says as he moves over to the stove and opens the pot.

"Mm?"

"Just some technical issues in the studio. Nothing serious, but it gave us some good bloopers."

You pick up a glass cup. You can see your reflection mirrored back at you in the curve, and your eyes are so wide. Have they always been that wide? Are your eyes drier these days than they normally are? You can't tell, because every part of you feels both dehydrated and submerged under water.

"This is really good, babe," Chan says.

You blink. "What?"

Chan holds up his bowl. "The stew. It's great. I told you it would be delicious."

You let out a pleased sound. "Thank you baby. Your encouragement really motivated me."

It was the wrong thing to say. You have no idea how, but from the way Chan's expression changes slightly as he looks at you, you know he's caught on to you acting weird.

"Is everything alright?"

Shit.

"With me? Yeah, I guess so. I've just been really tired lately."

"On the job hunt?" he asks sympathetically. It's like a stake in your heart.

"As always."

He wraps an arm around you and presses a kiss to your hair. "Don't worry, baby. You're super qualified in your field. You'll find something soon."

You need him to stop touching you or you'll start throwing pans at the wall.

"I hope so," is all you say.

"I know so. Just keep faith."

You hum again, noncommittal. It's like you're slowly losing the ability to speak. And the gloves are too tight and the water is so loud and you're nauseous and your head still hurts and it's probably not even the stress, it's probably the rabies, it's turning your brain into swiss cheese as you speak.

After another tight squeeze, Chan lets you go and retrieves his bowl from where he'd set it down. You hope he might leave you to go eat in the living room, but instead he hovers on the opposite side of the island, and continues telling you about his day. Normally, you'd love to hear the play by play of every crazy thing that happened with his group members and managers. Today, it's like nails on a chalkboard. The story is endless, keeps weaving around other anecdotes and tangents and you wish he would just shut up for one second so you can pull yourself together but you can't say that, because he isn't doing anything wrong, you're just being crazy, you're a bad and lazy girlfriend and you can't even put your own issues on hold long enough to listen to your boyfriend talk about his day. Everything is wrong wrong wrong, and you're Wrong and something is Wrong With You and it just keeps going it never stopswhy can't it all just stop-

"Y/N?"

Your name sounds like it's coming from a thousand miles away.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

You turn to look at Chan, see his eyebrows pinched together in concern. You have no idea how long he's been saying your name.

Very calmly, you strip your gloves off and lay them to the side. You turn off the water.

"Sorry," you say. "Give me one moment, please."

You walk past him and down the hall to your bedroom, where you very calmly and gently close the door behind yourself. You climb on to your bed, filthy clothes and all, and pull two of the pillows from the end to rest on top of each other. You tie your hair back with a hair tie, press your face into the stack of pillows below you so that your whole face is covered.

And you just start screaming.

Screaming is therapeutic, apparently. Or at least, it's on the approved list of emotional regulation activities your therapist had given you. As long as you aren't screaming at anyone, it can be an effective form of release. It helps you release the tension from your core and focus that nervous energy into sound and action.

You scream into the pillow as loud as you can. You aren't sure how much it's doing to muffle your sound, but the belief that it's helping allows you to let go. It's tearing at your throat, the intensity of it. Once you start it's hard to stop, you just keep going and going and going, as if you're expelling demons.

When you finally peter out, you pause for a moment, then push yourself onto your knees. You're dizzy. Blood is rushing in your ears. It's oddly hard to breathe, as if you can't get enough air in your lungs. Even the fact of your own body is too much for you. You wish you could abandon it, just for a moment. You wish you could observe this from the outside so that you would better know how to fix it.

Eventually, your breaths calm. The buzzing recedes, leaving room for rational thought. And your chest feels....lighter. No longer is there a bomb sitting in your sternum, waiting to explode. The pressure has equalized. You look down at your hands, fisted in your bedsheets, and they look like your hands.

Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool.

You think you can probably do the dishes now.

Gingerly, you climb out of bed and make your way to the door. You open it, prepared to put your smile back on and apologize for your rude exit.

Chan is outside your door.

His eyes are wide with alarm. He looks stiff, hesitant. One of his hands is outstretched towards the door, as if about to knock.

Your face goes blank, wiring short-circuiting as you try to figure out what to say.

"Hey, y/n," Chan says, slow, testing. "Are you okay?"

Your script restarts, and a big smile automatically draws itself on your face. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about that. I just got a little overwhelmed."

"Overwhelmed?"

"Yeah. It's fine, though. Come on, you can finish telling me your story."

You grab his hand and try to pull him away from the bedroom. He doesn't budge.

"Will you tell me what's going on?"

You turn back to look at him. "Nothing's going on."

"Baby, I understand if you don't want to talk to me about it yet. But you don't need to pretend there's nothing wrong. You don't need to lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

"I heard you screaming in there."

Ice flushes through your body.

"Ah. Well, it's like I said. I got a little overwhelmed. I'm not hurt or anything. Sorry if I worried you."

"A little overwhelmed?" He's getting frustrated now, put off by your blase tone. "You look like you're on the verge of a nervous breakdown."

"No, I don't," you say, because you don't. You know what you look like when you get like this. You've trained your expressions so well that your face doesn't flush. Your eyes don't tear up. You have to look put together, because if you don't look put together then you can't convince yourself that you are put together.

"Y/n. I know you. I can tell when something's up." He sighs. "I've thought you were a bit distant for the past couple of weeks but I figured you would come to me eventually. But here we are, and you're having an anxiety attack right in front of me and you won't even admit it."

"I'm not having an anxiety attack."

"Love, I know what anxiety looks like. If you'd just let me help-"

"I'm not having an anxiety attack. I don't have anxiety. I would know if I did."

"Everyone has bad days and hard times, baby. You don't have to be defensive. I'm not accusing you of anything."

"You say you're not accusing me of anything after unilaterally diagnosing me with anxiety?"

Chan lets out a long breath. "That wasn't what I meant. I just mean-"

"You can't just assign me disorders when you decide I'm acting irrationally. You don't know my medical history. You don't even know me that well. You don't know if my behavior is normal or not."

"You can't be getting upset at me for 'not knowing you' when it's clear you're actively hiding things from me," Chan says, patience thinning. "I see you're in distress and you're picking apart my wording? I'm trying to help you."

"I didn't say I wanted your help."

"You're my partner! Of course I'm going to help you!"

"You can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because-" You choke on it and slam your lips shut.

Chan's face is drawn in irritation. He makes a go on gesture. But you can't go on. It's like the words are trapped in bubbling tar.

Your silence stretches. Chan sighs and drags a hand down his face in exhaustion. He'd gone out of his way to come visit you and now he regrets it. You've wasted his evening and ruined his mood. It's only a matter of time before he realizes you ruin everything. Hell realize he's drowning in all your mess and decide to save himself, and then you'll be alone again.

You draw in a breath of your own, but you're still lightheaded.

"Why did you invite me over if you didn't want me to see you like this?" he asks finally. "You don't have to see me every day if that's not what you want."

All the anger is gone from his voice. He's being so patient that your own stubbornness is acrid in comparison. You swallow, hard. Every muscle in your body is tense. You have the pull the words out of your throat with hooks, one syllable at a time.

"I wanted to see you," you explain, stilted and pathetic. "I thought I could pretend for long enough."

"Pretend what?"

That I'm not crazy. That I'm not falling apart. That I'm normal and easygoing and a joy to be around and definitely not rabid.

It's impossible to say. You don't know what's wrong with you, but you know that something is. You can't do the dishes. And you can't do this.

Your knees buckle and you sink to the floor of the hallway.

"Y/n?"

You don't respond. You're just staring straight ahead, all your thoughts whirring so fast that you're having trouble parsing any of them.

"Y/n? Hey, baby, sweetheart, can you look at me?"

You blink, and he's in front of you, on your level. He's trying to look calm but you can see the panic in his eyes. It only makes your chest tighter. You're dragging him down, you're cursing him. He needs to get out or you'll have his blood on your hands.

"We need to break up," you whisper.

Chan reels back like he's been slapped. "What?"

"We can't- we need to break up. I shouldn't have invited you over. I'm sorry."

"I..." Chan is at a loss for words. "You don't mean that."

But you do mean it. With everything in your body. "We can't be together."

"Baby, I don't know what you're thinking, but we don't have to break up if you don't want to. I don't want to break up."

You feel sick with his sureness. How can he claim to know you better than you know yourself?

"You don't get it," you say. Your tone is unnatural, words strange on your tongue. "We just can't be together."

"Can you tell me why you feel that way?"

"Just look at me."

"I am looking at you. And all I see is my beautiful, wonderful, perfect girlfriend who is having a very bad day and might be making some hasty decisions."

"Not a bad day. A bad life. I'm fucked up, Chan." The words come out with such a quiet malice that it shocks even yourself. "I can't even do the fucking dishes."

"I can do the dishes, love. I said it wasn't a big deal."

"No no no. It's not about the dishes." You're struggling to explain- the words are getting twisted, the thoughts all merge together- "I can't do anything. It's not about the fucking dishes. It's about- I can't-"

And you burst into tears

"I'm sorry," you say. "I'm really sorry. I just-"

"It's okay," he soothes. "It's okay. I understand now."

He doesn't. He can't, and you know that full well. You shake your head, vision blurring from your tears. You're so embarassed and it's making you cry worse. You think you must look so ugly right now. He must be repulsed by you. You're repulsed by yourself, your own misery making your skin crawl.

"Can I touch you, baby? I want to hold you."

You shouldn't. You'll infect him. You'll ruin him and take away everything that makes him good. Why is he even still talking to you? Why doesn't he leave?

"You don't have to-to feel obligated. I can just- if you give me a second-"

"I don't feel obligated," he says, patient but firm. "I love you. I want to hold you all the time."

Something in your chest cracks. You're so weak. It's pathetic. But you can't hold yourself back anymore.

"Please," you whisper, defeated.

Chan reaches out and pulls you into his arm. You're both still on the ground, but he rearranges you so you can hide your face in his shoulder, and you do, too humiliated by your tears to be able to look at his face. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and your traitorous body relaxes without your permission.

"You've been struggling for a long time haven't you?" he asks. "You didn't want me to pity you."

You don't say anything. You can't bear to.

"Well, I don't pity you. I think you're very strong, trying to deal with this on your own. You made me dinner today even though you didn't really want to, right? That was very kind of you to do. You take such good care of me, baby. You light up my life. Isn't it fair that I should get to take care of you too? Can't I return the favor by helping you now?"

"It's not the same," you mumble into his shirt, because the magnitude of the two asks isn't comparable. You chopped up some vegetables and threw them in a pot. He is witnessing you have a mental breakdown in your hallway. You're not equally yoked. It's too much to ask of anyone.

"Whether it's the same or not doesn't matter. Love isn't transactional. It doesn't have to be equal effort every single time. This isn't a favor I'm returning. I'm comforting you because you're upset, and I hate to see you cry. Do you believe me when I say I want to see you happy and smiling? That I would do anything to ensure it?"

You finally pull away from him, wiping away your tears on your sleeve. "You might have to go find a new girlfriend then," you say, voice cracking from the tears and the weight of your despair.

"I don't want a new girlfriend. I want you." He's hesitant, but he continues. "There are ways of getting help, you know. We can try some things, like therapy, or medication. I can help you. You don't have to feel this way all the time."

You shake your head. "I'm in therapy and on meds already. None of it really....works on me. I have fewer bad days than I used to but they still leave me like...like this. And they just drag on....it turns to weeks and months, and I can't....I can't do anything." You let out a shaky breath and make yourself stop talking. Even after all this, the urge to hold back is engrained in you. "You deserve better."

"I think I decide what I deserve," Chan says. "I know it's hard to open up about things like this, but what's worse than you being depressed is you hiding it from me. How can we work on this if you're pretending it's not real?"

"I wanted to be good for you. I wanted to be...to be easy."

Chan leans forward and cups your face in his hands. He looks you right in the eyes, and you see that they're glossy with their own unshed tears. "I don't need you to be easy. No one is. I just want you to be you. And I want you to let me be there for you. In everything. Including this. I want all of you. Do you think you can do that? Can you try?" He wipes away your tears with his thumb.

You swallow harshly. It goes against everything in you, everything you've taught yourself. Chan loves you. He wants to stay. Even though it may all crash and burn later, even though he might still turn on you or reject you or give up on you and declare this all a lost cause, right now he wants to stay. He believes in you. And you want to hold on to that belief as long as it lasts.

"Okay. I'll try."

A relieved smile stretches across his face.

"That's my girl," he says, and presses a kiss to your forehead. It makes something like pride settle in your chest, as if the part of you that cracked earlier might not stay jagged forever.

"Let's get off the floor, hmm? I feel like you might've spent enough time down here today."

You definitely hadn't mentioned that. Maybe he really does understand more than you'd thought possible. You don't know exactly how to feel about that, but you allow a bit of gratefulness to come through as he stands up on his own and reaches a hand down to pull you up. You wipe your eyes one last time, let out a breath, and take his hand.

#skz x reader #skz angst #skz x you #bang chan x reader #bang chan angst

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literaryvein-reblogs · 18 days ago

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Writing Notes: Dialogue Tags

Dialogue tag (or speech tag) - a phrase that precedes, breaks up, or follows a bit of written dialogue and establishes who the speaker is and often how they are delivering the dialogue.

Properly Punctuating Dialogue

Here are the 3 most common ways to punctuate dialogue seen in literature:

Quotation marks. In English language literature, dialogue usually appears in quotation marks, as in the example above. If you put your dialogue in quotation marks, note that punctuation—like periods, exclamation points, and question marks—go inside the quotation marks. Also note that you should use a comma of a terminal punctuation mark when a piece of dialogue is part of a complete sentence including a dialogue tag. For example: “I’m going out to buy some milk,” she said or “Stop,” she said. “I already bought milk yesterday.”

Em-dashes. Some writers use an em-dash to notate a line of dialogue, like this: —What do you want for dinner? Jack asked his friend John.

No punctuation. Some writers don’t notate dialogue at all. For example, Nobel Prize-winning author José Saramago treats his dialogue just like the rest of the narration, like this: Jack asked his friend John, What do you want for dinner, and John replied, I don’t know, you decide.

Writing dialogue requires a good deal of information be communicated to help your readers understand who is saying what.

At the bare minimum, good use of dialogue tags keeps your reader from getting too disoriented or confused.

Some writers believe that "said is dead" and prefer to use more descriptive words or to put an adverb before the word “said.”

But generally speaking, you can write an entire short story or novel using only “said,” without having to resort to more descriptive verbs like “shouted,” “seethed,” or “consoled.”

Stephen King, whose famous opinion that “the road to hell is paved with adverbs,” finds them especially annoying in dialogue attribution. (Tags like “he said cheekily” drive him crazy.)

In suspense writing specifically, Angels and Demons author Dan Brown advises you to keep your language from jarring the reader out of the story. This means sticking to “he said” and “she said,” and keeping adverbs or other words for “said” to a minimum.

Are Dialogue Tags Always Necessary?

Not every piece of dialogue requires a tag.

If your reader can be reasonably expected to assume who is speaking, you don’t have to use dialogue tags.

This is especially true during lengths of ongoing back and forth dialogue between two characters.

Oftentimes quotes will follow one after the other, with a line break to denote a change in speaker.

Source ⚜ More: Notes ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs ⚜ Dialogue References

#dialogue #writing notes #writeblr #literature #writing tips #fiction #writers on tumblr #writing reference #dark academia #spilled ink #writing prompt #creative writing #writing advice #on writing #light academia #writing inspiration #writing ideas #writing resources

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dimlylittorch · 20 days ago

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Logan Howlett with a golden retriever boyfriend is soooo cutesy

My Masterlist🌱

Logan Howlett x transmasc!sweetheart!reader

i need this man to be my black cat boyfriend :((

Idk i just imagine Logan running into this sweet little guy (no I’m not talking about myself why would you even think that-) and said little guy getting attached to him immediately. Logan wouldn’t know what to do with himself tbh, he just has this little ray of sunshine as his shadow now and he’s not exactly hating the attention.

You get his number as soon as you can, saving his name into your phone with some cute emoji that makes his eyes hurt. Promising him that you’ll text him soon, saying how you can’t wait to hang out sometime. Logan being slightly dazed from the entire interaction, not used to people actually wanting to be around him.

The two of you having completely different text tones but it doesn’t phase you at all. He’s a bit on the dry side but you tell him he should use emoticons since he doesn’t like emojis. You were practically squealing the first time he sent a ‘:)’ at the end of a message. You love to use exclamation points, and he honestly loves it because he knows that’s exactly how you’d be talking about it in person- a little ball of excitement.

He can’t get enough of you and your personality. You’re not like most people he meets, you’re way more real. A natural giver, laughing all the time, witty humor.. god you were something else. The first time you two went out together he couldn’t admit to himself that he was a little nervous. Could he keep up with your energy? Would you think he’s boring? He wasn’t much of a constant talker like you. Would you mind?

It turns out you didn’t mind at all. You were good at matching people’s energies, but also good at balancing them. When he was quiet, you’d get more excited and talk so he didn’t have to. When he was talking you’d simply smile up at him and listen attentively. You were just so happy to be in his presence.. he wasn’t used to it.

One of the first things he noticed about you was how socially aware you were. It was like a second nature to you- monitoring how other people were feeling and assessing how you should act in return. He never failed to notice how your smile got so much brighter when he laughed at your joke, or when you caught a smile on his lips.

At one point when the two of you were walking down the street you saw how he tensed slightly at the sight of a bar with a group of rowdy drunks outside. As if it was instinct for you, you switched sides with him so you would be closer to them- not him. Taking his hand in your own and squeezing it slightly, trying to offer a comforting gesture. Now- he had been on edge with concerns for your safety. But silly little you took it upon yourself to what- protect him? The thought amused him and made his heart flutter nonetheless.

One of the drunk men throwing a bottle at the ground, it flying too close to Logan for your liking. Immediately turning and grabbing the guys collar even though you were quite a few inches shorter, yanking him down to your level. “If that had hit him, we’d be having fucking problems” you seethe. “You understand me?” Logan is practically frozen as he watches you, honestly surprised you’d react like that. You had been nothing but sweet all day.

The drunkard quickly fumbles with his words, barely able to stand straight. He thinks about shoving you off, but when he sees the glare Logan is shooting his way he decides against it. He just scoffs and pulls away, turning back to his friends who were all laughing. When you turn back to Logan he has a smirk on his face, and he wraps his arm around your shoulders as you continue to walk. “Could’ve handled him myself” he muses.

Huffing softly as you slip your hand into Logan’s jacket pocket to keep him close, you continue your walk. “You’re too pretty to have to deal with dickheads like that” you muttered, causing a heat to bloom in Logan’s chest. His little guard dog.

The first time the two of you kissed was one of his favorite memories. It was the holiday season, and you two decided to hang out for New Year’s Eve. Having been resting on either end of the couch, both of you wishing you could work up the nerve to get closer. The doorbell rang and you stood up to go get it, knowing it was the pizza you had ordered. As soon as you close the door and set the pizza on the kitchen counter, you hear the roar of cheers from outside of the apartment, people celebrating in the streets. Before you can even utter the words ‘happy new year Logan’ he slips next to you and cups your chin, pulling you into a kiss.

“Happy New Year, bub” he whispered against your lips as soon as he broke away. Staring up at him, you had the cutest look of surprise- one he would remember forever. When it finally registered what he had done you quickly wrapped your arms around his torso with a squeal of excitement, almost making him fall over. As soon as he stabilizes himself with a huff, you lean up to kiss him sweetly, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him down to your level. Laughing against his lips, he can’t help but grin himself. “What’s so funny?” He smirked.

Giggling softly as you looked up at him, he saw that glint in your eye he always loved. “Can we be boyfriends?” You’d practically beamed up at him. Christ, how could he say no to a face like that?

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cal-kestis · 1 year ago

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HOW TO: Make an iPhone Layout + Downloadable Template

Hi! I've gotten a few messages asking for a tutorial on my iPhone gifsets — but instead of only doing a tutorial (that would probably be triple the length this one already is), I decided to turn my layout into a template with all the bits and bobs! In the "tutorial" under the cut, I'll share everything you'll need, a free template download, and quickly go over how to use this template. :)

Disclaimer: This template uses Video Timeline and this tutorial assumes you have a basic to intermediate understanding of Photoshop.

PHASE 1: THE ASSETS

1.1 – Download fonts. These are the fonts used for all assets I've included in my template: – SF Pro or SF Pro Display (Regular, Medium, Bold): Either version works, they look nearly identical. You can download directly from https://developer.apple.com/fonts/ or easily find it via Google – Bebas Neue: Free on Google Fonts, Adobe Fonts, and dafont – Times New Roman (Bold): Should be a default font in Photoshop

Make sure to download and install any of the fonts you don't already have before opening my template. That way, once you open the template file, all the settings (font size, weight, spacing, color, opacity, etc.) are as intended.

1.2 – Download my template. Before you use my template, all I ask is that you don't claim or redistribute it as your own and that you give me proper credit in the caption of your post. Making these iPhone gifsets takes me a longgg time and turning this layout into a template took several hours too.

DOWNLOAD TEMPLATE VIA KO-FI ← This template is completely free to download (just enter $0), but if you feel inclined to tip me, I appreciate you! 💖

BTW this template also includes some of my frequently used icons!

NOTE: If, for some reason, you open the template and see the pop-up shown below, click "NO" — otherwise, the fonts will be all messed up:

And if you see this triangle with an exclamation point by a text layer, don't double-click it — it'll mess up the font as well:

PHASE 2: THE GIFS

I'm just going to briefly go over gif sizes and my recommendations. Also, keep in mind when grabbing your scenes, you'll want all of these gifs to be the same amount of frames.

2.1 – Background Gif: 540 x 540 px. I recommend this size so you have a good amount of visibility for the gif behind the iPhone wallpaper. I also recommend making this black and white (or in my case, black and white with a slight blue tint — idk I just like the way it looks) so the wallpaper coloring can stand out.

2.2 – Wallpaper Gif: 230 (w) x 500 (h) px. Keep in mind the very narrow dimensions of the wallpaper! And also keep in mind that you'll have a bunch of apps and widgets covering the image. I try to use wide shots (or layer my clips into looking like wide shots). Also, keep in mind your color scheme for your set and your character's aesthetic! I tend to focus on one or two colors for the wallpaper.

I usually position the wallpaper to the side with 20px bumpers, so there's lots of space to see the background:

2.3 – Large Photo Widget Gif: 201 (w) x 96 (h) px.

2.4 – Small Photo Widget Gif: 94 x 94 px.

PHASE 3: THE TEMPLATE – "IPHONE" FOLDER

In this section, I'll try to quickly walk you through how to use this template and some bits that may require extra instructions. I'll be going through each folder from top to bottom.

3.1 – Status Bar. Time, Service, and WiFi are pretty self-explanatory. In the Battery folder, you can use the shape tool to adjust the shape layers labeled "Fill (Adjustable Shape!)" to customize the battery level.

3.2 – Message Notification. Again, these are pretty self-explanatory. I've already masked the circle for the contact photo, so you can simply import any photo and use the transform tool to shrink it down. The circle is 24x24 px. If you don't want to use a photo, there's another folder called Default Initials.

If your message text can't fit the text box, the message should end with ellipses which is how iOS caps off long texts.

3.3 – Blurred Banner (IMPORTANT) This folder is easy to miss because there's only one placeholder layer in there. On iPhones, the area behind a banner notification and the dock get blurred (including the wallpaper and any apps).

What to do: Make a duplicate of the apps in Row 1 and/or widgets that intersect the message banner, convert them all into one smart object, apply a Gaussian Blur filter (Radius: 3.0 pixels) on the smart object, and move the smart object into this masked folder!

(There's another masked folder in the Wallpaper folder for the dock which I'll go over in that section.)

3.4 – Apps Turn off the yellow guide if you don't need it to keep things aligned and turn off layers you don't need by clicking the eye icon. Replace the "App" placeholder text with your app name, change the color or gradient of the square to compliment your color scheme, and add your custom app icon overlay!

If you can't find an app icon you need from the ones I provided, flaticon.com is a great resource. Also, if you can only find the filled version of an icon, check out this tutorial for how to make any text or shape into an outline.

Also, each app folder has 4 notification bubble options (1-4 digits). Again, you can toggle these on and off as you need!

3.5 – Big Widgets I like using these when my wallpaper has A LOT of negative space to fill. I included the Photos and Books widgets in my template, but there are lots of widgets available on iPhones. You can check some of the other ones I've done here, or if you have an iPhone, simply try adding some widgets to your phone!

There are also widgets bigger than these, but they would take up half of the phone screen which is why I don't use them for these edits.

3.6 – Small Widgets The only thing I'll say about these — because they're pretty straight forward — is there are a lot more weather themes than I included in my template. Also, if you set your character's phone to evening, the weather widget will show a dark background (sometimes with stars), so keep that in mind.

Speaking of, I've included Light Modes and Dark Modes for, I think, every applicable widget.

3.7 – Page Dots These barely perceptible dots indicate that your character has more pages of apps than shown in your gifset (so if an anon tries to come at you, you can just say "it's on the next page of apps" /j /lh)

3.8 – Dock Again, the dock has notification bubble options and I've included the default app designs, custom filled designs, and custom outlined designs for iMessage, Phone, Email, and Safari (there's also a FaceTime alternative if that's how your character rolls). These are usually the apps people keep in their Dock, but this is fully customizable too. So, if your character is, like, super obsessed with Candy Crush or something and needs it in thumb's reach — you can put it in the dock.

3.9 – Wallpaper This whole folder is masked already to a 230x500 px rounded rectangle.

Inside, you'll find another "Blurred Portion" folder for the area behind the message banner notification and the dock.

What to do: Duplicate your gif layer and place it in this folder, remove any sharpening filters, and apply a Gaussian Blur filter (Radius: 3.0 px). Be sure to add any coloring/adjustment layers ABOVE this folder and your original sharpened gif layer.

PHASE 4: EXPORT

We made it!

I hope this template makes it super easy for you to recreate this layout! If you decide to try it out, feel free to tag me with #usernik.

If you notice anything wonky about the template, kindly let me know so I can fix it! And if you have any questions about how to use this template, please don't hesitate to send me a message! I just ask that you try to be specific in your question so I'm able to answer you the best I can!

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coralinnii · 1 year ago

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❋ If you are a villain, then let me be your accomplice ❋

feat: Floyd

genre: slow burn romance

note: sequel to reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy AU Floyd ver, no pronouns used for reader, 2k word count

Series masterlist

A new normal has unfortunately assimilated into your life since your incident during that fateful ball. You felt your entire being sink into the pit of your stomach as your brother came running to you when he returned from the party, frantically asking why one of the Leech family sons was asking about you.

“You fell on top of him? And then just ran away?!” You were close to strangling your younger brother for his big mouth, especially when your outraged mother just happened to walk in right at the moment, though you were sure the birds resting in your gardens would have heard your brother’s obnoxious exclamations.

“I can’t believe you didn’t even say sorry, just running away and leaving the poor boy” After scolding your ear off, your mother wrote a letter of apology to the Leech household and to your dismay, invited Floyd to your home so you could personally apologize for your rude behavior. “It’s the least we could do,” your mother said.

Soon, an apology dinner led to a quick tour around your father’s training ground, then eventually there wasn’t a day where you didn’t worry that you’ll see a head of ocean teal hair bursting through your doors, naturally making his way into the guest room like it was made for him, though your mother probably did request the servants to keep that room clean everyday for his arrival anyway.

“Fishie, I’m bored~” You were convinced that Floyd was aware of your wariness of him which was why he intentionally spends his time constantly by your side, poking you and demanding you to entertain him anytime he was bored, which was all the time. He complains when you wouldn’t pay attention to him (eventhough he barged into your classes), drags you to spar with him during your father’s knight training sessions (eventhough you weren’t part of your father’s knight squad), and even naps in your bedroom while waiting for you (eventhough there’s a guest room literally just for him!).

Your wariness soon became frustration as you swore that Floyd was doing this just to get a rise out of you, for you to finally snap and give him a reason to squeeze you. You couldn’t figure it out but you’re starting to realize that the tall intruder only seems happy when you’re mentally suffering from his antics.

What’s worse was that your family doesn’t seem to see this as a concern. Your father was pleased to see potential in Floyd as a fighter and your brother became fascinated with the stories of merfolk and trinkets Floyd brings anytime he visits. The worst was your mother who was happy to have the sharp-toothed man visit them so often, calling him a sweet delight in the home.

“Crazy. They’re all crazy!” Your sanity as thin as silk thread and about as high-strung was tested everyday and it was at its breaking point one day when you had to join him for a night in the town, where a small festival was being held.

“Your dear friend was kind enough to invite you… you should go out more…Don’t be such a slugabed…Why can’t I be a slugabed, mom? Nothing wrong with that” lost in your grumbles, Floyd pulled you around the bustling crowds of the market to various food stalls when he felt an inkling of hunger. You supposed you were glad he was in a good mood for now, beats the alternative.

“Hey Fishie, Check this out!” You looked to see your companion with a satisfied grin on his face. “Look at what I got from the kebab stall!”

A satisfied grin plastered on his face, Floyd held out what you assumed was a meat kebab but the sheer length of it caught you off guard. The impulsive eel persuaded the stall owner to combine the sticks together to create a kebab much longer than intended (or recommended). Adorned with alternating grilled meat and vegetables, Floyd’s kebab stick was more of a kebab sword.

“Oh my goodness” you let out a gasp, wide-eyed at oddity before you. “Is that possible…or safe?” Clearly it was possible with the monstrosity clearly in his hands but your concern was more towards if such a food-covered stick was safe to wave around in a crowded area like this, where someone could accidentally get hit by that thing-

Whack “Hey, what’s the big idea?!”

Why couldn’t you be wrong?

As you feared, Floyd's creative street food managed to swing around and smacked an unsuspecting man in the back of his head. He turned, and your instincts immediately warned you that this man was not the forgiving type of fellow. His scowl seemed to target you, possibly because you seemed to be an easier victim to blame.

“What’s the big idea? A couple of prissy nobles walkin’ around thinkin’ they can do whatever they want?” The ruffled man snarled out in a gruff tone, his friends behind him copying his scowls with furrowed eyebrows and visibly clenched fists. “You better walk away if ya know what’s good for yer.”

But Floyd was not the least bit intimidated by the hostile group and started to scowl back, a dangerous look glazing over his mix-matched eyes. Before you could apologize, the tall merman stepped in front of you, towering over the stranger and blocking your figure from sight. Bystanders whispered and gasped as many started to back away from what looked to be an impending fight.

“Haaa? You minnows tryin’ to pick a fight?” Floyd tilted his head to the side glaring down at the other man, a hand squeezing his shoulder as though to limber up his arm. To you, he seemed like the meaner bully than anyone. “Sure, let’s have some fun then.”

“What’s going on over there?!” You heard another voice bellowing from afar and your worries suddenly shot up. Amongst the crowd, you could see a pair of men in armour making their way towards your direction where the commotion was.

“No. No. No. I don’t want to spend my night getting arrested!” Looking back to Floyd, you saw the wildness in his eyes barely being held back, dead set on starting a fight. You knew there wasn’t a chance to talk Floyd down when he gets this riled up so in a panic, you made a risky move.

Quietly crouching down, you scooped a handful of sand and gravel. With all your mustered courage, you side-stepped from behind your tall friend and threw the debris straight into the ruffian’s eyes, momentarily blinding him. The stranger bellowed with pain as he quickly back again in response.

“AARRGGHH, YOU CRAZY B-“ the blinded man couldn’t finish his sentence as you made the final blow by kicking him further backwards, his friends scrambling to catch him as he groaned in his suffering.

Taking the chance, you quickly grabbed Floyd and rushed away from the scene. Your mind ignored voices cursing you as you recklessly weaved through the crowd away from the knights and the ruffians and towards anywhere that had less of a crowd, your hand tightly holding on to the merman who was strangely quiet, stunned by your impulsive actions. But the ruffians were quick to recover as they started catch their bearings and chase after the two of you, rage fuelled in their motivations.

The chase brought you to a pier by the ocean that was as ink black as the night sky. You could still hear their voices coming closer and soon regret and fear flooded your senses.

“What do I do…what do I do?” You mumbled in panic, with tears lining your eyes. You have completely forgotten that Floyd could feel you shake through your hand still interlocked with his.

Your companion watched you quivering like a scared little seal and hearing angry footsteps approaching, when a fun idea crossed his mind.

“Hey Fishie,” his casual voice finally made you remembered his presence. “We gotta hide, right? I know a place~”

“Wha-“ Without a second to let you ask more, Floyd swiftly picked you up from your shoulders to fling you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and in one fluid motion, he threw you right into the waters without remorse.

Splash

In your flabbergasted state from the audacity and the sheer ice cold feeling of the water, your frazzled mind didn’t even register Floyd jumping in soon after you until he wrapped his arms around you, clasping your hand over your mouth to stop you from screaming. Floyd was surprisingly comforting with his hold on you as his long arms kept you afloat above the cold waters as he expertly led your body further from the pier where you could faintly hear shouting from afar.

Eventually, the noises quiet down and all there’s left were the waves of the water splashing against your skin. Unfortunately, the darkened sky allowed no light for your eyes to scan your surroundings. You could barely see Floyd very well despite feeling his body close to yours. “Floyd, can you see the pier?”

“Yea, can’t you?” Floyd asked but you shook your head, your eyes couldn’t adjust to your surroundings with almost no light in sight. “Too dark, huh? Hmmm, close your eyes for a second, will ya? I’m gonna do somethin’”

Though skeptical, you did as he asked. Minutes went by and before the fear that the ocean-haired man might had left you, a luminous glow nearly permeated through your eyelids. You could tell there was bright beacon of light close to you but there strangely wasn’t a sense of heat from the source.

“…Alright, open ‘em”

Floyd watched intently as you opened your eyes and saw something purely inhuman. The once tall man was no longer in his human form but instead his long eel-like body was wrapped around you which glowed a shimmering blue light from his bioluminescence. This was the first time you’ve him in his most natural form.

Floyd waited silently for a reaction from you, an unreadable look in his gold and brown eyes. With his natural glow, nothing was hidden from you. You could see his sharp claws protruding from his large webbed hands, his dotted blue skin coated with slime, and his large monstrous tail in lieu of those human legs he acquired. All land-dwellers do is gawk and shriek at whatever is unnatural to them and he suspected you’d be the same, just like all the boring humans…

“Floyd, you’re beautiful!”

You couldn’t help but marvel at the sight before you. Your old life fantasized and told tales of merpeople but would never come to see such a visionary sight like this. Even after finding yourself in this new world, many mermaids and mermen had to hide themselves from anti-merfolk humans on land so you still haven’t had the chance to meet them in such a natural form…Until now.

“Wow, you’re glowing from your chest to your tail…” your eyes sparkled with child-like wonder as you watched the light from Floyd’s body shimmer in the waters, reminding you almost like the waves of light of an aurora in the sky. Your fingers curiously grazed the surface of Floyd’s tail which felt cool and smooth to the touch, most likely due to the natural secretion of his skin to keep him hydrated. You reached back to his clawed fingers which you swore looked bigger than those of his human form, bigger than yours at least, which made you ponder if merfolks varied in sizes as well. “This feels like a dream”

“…Hehe, how long are you gonna touch me, Fishie~?” Floyd’s little tease snapped you out of your daze as he grinned down at you. His tone sounded accusatory but his sly grin spoke volume of his amusement over your fascination with his body.

Quickly, you let go of his webbed fingers. “I-I’m sorry, Floyd. I was just surprised. I’ve never seen a merman’s body before and-and” you stammered and splashed around but not even the ice cold waters could cool the sensation in your cheeks. You felt the burn of embarrassment just thinking how Floyd was watching you fawn over his body like a reckless pervert.

Distracted by your shame, Floyd took the opportunity to hold you tighter than before, his glowing body coiling around your legs and letting you feel his firm muscles as you felt forced to sit atop of his tail. Gently, the merman cradled your head as he smiled a toothy grin at you, seemingly happier than you’ve seen him all day, though you couldn’t figure out why.

“My Fishie never disappoints~ It’s always so fun when I’m around you, I can’t get enough!” Floyd surprised you by pressing his cheek to yours, nuzzling against your skin as he hummed in a satisfied tone. Seriously, what’s gotten him in such a good mood?

“Wait, don’t think I’d forgive you for throwing me into the water!”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #floyd leech #floyd x reader #villainess au

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teecupangel · 1 year ago

Note

Proposal: instead of Desmond sets up a bakery, he sets up a new bar. But specifically manages to pull off such weird drinks from the future that everyone is fully 100% convinced that he’s really a witch.

Baker Desmond AU in Third Crusades Levant, Renaissance Italy and Colonial America

“This is witchcraft! Sorcery! The work of the devil!”

Desmond wondered if he should just book it.

Sure, it had taken time to create this bar. So many long hours finding the cheapest most okay building in a busy street. So many times talking to people to get them to open up to him and finally give his drinks a shot.

Well… more than a shot.

He knew cocktails would prove to be his selling point.

He even made mocktails for those who do not partake but he made sure they were more expensive than the usual because… well… profit.

Could Desmond be doing something else in his new lease of life?

Absolutely.

Was he going to?

No.

This was Altaïr’s territory… sorta.

Desmond had complete faith that Altaïr do as history demanded.

So Desmond could retire.

But, in all honesty…

He wished Altaïr could just assassinate Garnier de Naplouse already so he wouldn’t have to deal with this crap.

He should have just opened his bar away from Levant.

Maybe he should?

“Desmond, if you can just prove to the Grand Master’s representative that you don’t make concoction of the devil-”

The knight was one of his regulars. He was just trying to help (and keep his favorite bar alive).

But Naplouse’s representative.

He could see the greed in the man’s eyes as he continued to hurl garbage at him.

Desmond was pretty sure Naplouse didn’t even order this.

Desmond made sure he was kept busy with not being able to have enough ‘patients’ after all.

(Just because he’s not actively assassinating Altaïr’s targets doesn’t mean he would just a turn a blind eye to the atrocities he knew was happening)

No.

This man wanted to learn his secrets.

He wanted to encroach on Desmond’s hard-earned monopoly.

Desmond’s lips curved into the smile he had perfected after years of having to deal with the lowest trashes as a bartender.

“I understand.”

The greed in that man’s eyes shone brighter.

… as Desmond’s smile grew colder.

“I will pack up and leave then.”

“WHAT?!”

The exclamation of surprise came not only from the man harassing him and the knight who was trying to help him but from the three other guards who were just standing behind them.

An intimidation tactics if Desmond ever saw one.

He was sure they would trash his place if they were ordered to.

Reluctantly, of course.

But trashing one’s place was better than being called insubordinate and punished for it.

If things go to shit, Desmond could just kick all their asses and book it.

Desmond clasped his hands together as he said lightly, “Actually, someone came before and offered me a job in Ḥalab. I refused, of course.”

Which was true.

“But considering how-” Desmond stressed the word, “… unappreciated I am here.”

Desmond continued to smile as he said, “I believe it’s time for me to leave this place. Ḥalab is filled with many merchants with different ingredients I can use for my…”

Desmond glared at the greedy man as he continued to politely smile, “… concoctions.”

“Tha-that’s-” The man spluttered before shouting, “That is an admission of guilt! By not showing how you make them, you are admitting to being a devil worshiper.”

Desmond could see that none of his guards were buying that crap.

But they were powerless as well.

Desmond’s smile fell as he said, “If you’re not going to let me leave in peace, then I’ll just have to take you all down and keep you silent until I have to leave.”

“I promise not to give any of you lasting damage except you…” Desmond stared at the greedy man who flinched, “I’ll hurt you in a way that will make you remember your stupidity every single day.”

Desmond stepped towards him, making the knights take a step towards the man to protect him, the nearest one whispering, “Desmond, wai-”

“I won’t kill you.” Desmond smiled once more, making everybody freeze as a cold shudder went up their spine, “But you will waste the rest of your life wishing I had.”

That afternoon, Desmond the bartender left Acre. When the people checked his bar later that night, they saw men unconscious on the floor with one of Naplouse’s men tied to a chair, conscious but barely coherent.

Carved on his forehead was the words “1 Timothy 6:9”.

Desmond did not, in fact, go to Ḥalab.

But he did start his next bar in one of the cities that is part of the Silk Road.

#ah my bible knowledge once more comes to use #my religion teachers would be so proud /s #no altaïr in this one #i went with third crusades because #well it’s me #and also because renaissance italy would have loved desmond #and i wanted desmond to get annoyed XD #assassin's creed #desmond miles #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed

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the-ellia-west · 10 months ago

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How to make your Readers Feel Emotions for Dummies

(AWWWWW :]]]] Edition)

So... Do you have any cute animals or children in your story?

No?

Then I can't help you go away

Kidding, kidding, you can make AWW moments in your story no matter who or what your characters are.

First

You have to have at least semi-Likable characters (Pets, adorable animals, or children make this wayyyyyy easier)

Likable characters make your readers want the characters to be happy! You can't really get AWWWW moments if you want the characters to suffer

Most AWWW moments come from Shipping or cute baby moments

Second

Decide what Type

whether you want it to be an AWWWW Romance moment, or an AWWWWW Baby moment

There's also #3 I forgot to mention: AWWWWW comfort/sentimental moment

Third

Decide which character the AWWW moment will happen between

Couple, Father/child, mother/child, friends, siblings, doesn't matter - Well... it obviously matters Which AWWW moment you're going for but... yeah

Fourth

What's Gonna happen?

For romance it's usually cute fluff moments - Want examples? Too bad, look it up on Pinterest! No, no, Joking. Here's a list:

Small cheek/hand kisses

A small, 'I love you so much.'

Wearing other's clothes

Forehead touch

Cuddling

Holding BOTH of each other's hands

FACE TOUCHES - Cheek/jawbone is best

Leaning into touch

Careful dancing

For parental figure and Child it's usually a comforting trust moment, a protecting the child moment, or a 'make me proud' moments

I fucking love these and I'm gonna go on a rant Addict, Tired, bitter mentors are so fucking great. There's so much you can do with them Mostly there's 'make me proud moments' The first 'I approve' moment There's 'you've made me proud' moments There's also 'Fine, you're my kid' moments And comforting trust moments hit so much harder when the mentor rarely shows affection.

It's just so... :D

For Friends, You should do with comforting moments, or a 'you don't know how much I care about you moments

Fifth

Soft Phrasing = soft emotions

Use long, calm sentences. No exclamation points or question marks unless it's dialogue. Keep everything smooth and fluid.

Tears are a powerful tool so use them sparingly

Use short words, and use cuter, softer words, metaphors, and adjectives.

Sixth

Have a visible result

Smiles, cute thoughts, cute dialogue, different feelings or actions towards other characters

Stuff like that

AWWWWW moments can be very powerful to characters as they can for real people, they can change so much with little words.

They can be turning points, displays of affection to the audience, turning points of affection, showcases of change, strengthening of relationships, a final goodbye, they can be so much in just so little.

Good Evening and Good Luck with your Writing My loveable Writing friends! you can do this! <3

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igotanidea · 11 months ago

Text

Spoiled: Dick Grayson x reader

Summary: Women's day with Dick.

Warning: a little innuendo at the end, but no worries, minors allowed ;)

***

After knowing each other for a few years they became a couple in June, hence 8th March of a current year was their first International Women’s Day together.

Well- to say the whole truth – it was her first IWD with him, but the point stood.

And Dick Grayson was not known for doing anything half-way when it came to his girlfriend(s).

Since he might have fucked up Valentines’ day (in his defense he wasn’t entirely sure of how she felt about it since there was never even a hint on her part that she wanted to celebrate it and their relationship was still kind of fresh) it was obvious he had to make up for it, by giving her the best 8th March celebration ever.

“Morning sweetheart.”

At this point she should have been used to him visiting her apartment in the most abnormal morning hours, coming back from his Nightwinging-shit. Regardless, being torn from the sleep by his blue and black silhouette and domino mask, sometimes with the widest, charming, boyish grin and some other with blood and injuries all over was something she couldn’t move past.

“mmhmh….” She muttered rolling on her side in the bed to check the hour. 5 am. 5 am at fucking Friday. “are you hurt….?” Poor girl couldn’t even find any strength to bash him.

“no, not exactly—”

“then I’m sure it can wait for two or three hours? Come on, Grayson. I start my shift at 9 today, let me have some more rest….”

“But—” Dick frowned taking off his mask and studying her silhouette curled under the cover, one leg still in the dreamland. Did she really forget what day was it today?

“Mh. Just shut up and come here….” She mumbled again lifting the hem of the blanket, silently inviting him in and it actually did lift his spirits.

As quick as possible he stripped of his suit and slid into the bed next to her, immediately wrapping arms around her waist pulling her close. Unsure whether it was him looking for comfort and assurance he would always have someone to come home to, or rather him giving her love and warmth and safety – a must have for a woman.

“Y/n….” he whispered in her ear, running fingers up and down her back soothingly, creating the atmosphere of intimacy and love.

“The hell you want?” she snuggled closer

“Best wishes…”

“What…?” she raised her head, searching his eyes, all the sleepiness leaving her at once “you sure you’re not injured? Like – your head for example? My b-day are in September, our anniversary is in June, I didn’t win a lottery, there’s no occasion today so what are you talking about?”

“Y/N! baby!” Dick laughed pecking the top of her nose playfully “come on, think for a moment!”

“It’s 5 a.m. are you seriously asking me to freaking think?”

“What kind of special day do we have in March?”

“World Self-harm Awareness Day?”

“What?” he laughed whole-heartedly “that’s really the first thing that came to your pretty little head?”

“Jerk.”

“Come on baby… Flowers, chocolates, fancy dates…”

“Are you trying to remind me you fucked up Valentines’ Day?”

“It was not me! It was Nightwing’s fault.”

“Oh yeah, right. Blame your alter ego and you’re on a highway to split personality. Seriously what-“ she lift herself, a bit annoyed at his games now and her eyes landed on the calendar on the wall, noticing the date marked in a red circle and an exclamation mark. “Oh….”

“You there now?” Dick smirked

“I hate you Grayson-“ she muttered leaning forward to kiss him softly

“Just wait till you see what I planned for the day.”

***

Dick Grayson was not known for doing anything half-assed.

Wait? Did I already say that? Too bad.

Dick Grayson was not known for doing anything half-assed.

Such a shame that the festive day was taking place on Friday, cause otherwise he would lock her inside the apartment keeping her all to himself and spoiling her on the entire day.

But it was obvious from the get go that she was not going to skip a work day and there was no way to stop her (power girl simply liking her work, it was not a crime).

On the bright side – it was the perfect opportunity to extend the celebration on a whole weekend.

Starting from having the perfect evening.

Y/N could only do as little as step inside the apartment, after work, exhausted after all week with her brain becoming a jello, legs giving up, when she was snatched by a pair of strong arms and held close to a broad warm chest. And the contented sigh that escaped her lips was definitely not a sign of complaint.

"Missed you my beautiful woman."

"I can tell." she chuckled in response, glad to be back home to him.

"Now come on, pick up your prettiest dress and we're going out.'

"We're what?" that was unexpected "and what do you mean prettiest dress? I don’t have any dresses-"

"Good thing your boyfriend thought of that too-" Dick grabbed her hand and led her to the bedroom where the most elegant and a bit revealing (but still chic) piece of clothing was spread on the bed.

"Grayson...." no matter how much she tried to deny her own instincts there was no way to stop herself from running fingers over the soft silky fabric and delighting in its sensation on her skin. She could only imagine how it would feel having that masterpiece hugging her body.

"Do you like it?"

"Like it?" she turned to face him, her eyes showing all the adoration of the gift. "But - I can't accept it. I mean - I'm sure it was--"

"Don't you dare saying it."

"But-"

"I bought it for you, you hear me? Because you deserve it, because I love you, because you're my woman and I’m your man." he grabbed her by the waist spinning her around and pulling to him. The fact that he was towering over her, holding her so firmly and giving her that man-like look silenced all her words of opposition. “Accept it, okay? Accept the fact that there’s me in your life now.”

“Right. The great, famous, handsome Dick Grayson the Wayne prodigy”

“Did you say handsome?” he smirked causing her to roll her eyes “seriously Y/N, I’m in your life. To stay. So the sooner you get used to unexpected gifts and surprises and being treated like a woman the better.”

“You still fucked up Valentine’s day.”

“You’ll be reminding me of that till the rest of my life, won’t you?”

“Of course.” She ginned playfully leaning to kiss him “I’m a woman. We collect such thing to use them as a potential argument in a quarrel.” She winked and this time it was him who rolled his eyes at her antics before silencing her with a proper make out session.

***

Clearly the dress was not enough for him.

Clearly taking a private Wayne jet and flying to NY was not enough for him.

He had to make a reservation at the most exquisite restaurant in the country. With the table in the secluded part of the spot, on the balcony with the perfect view on the night skyline, illuminated by the millions of little bright flickering lights.

And despite all that wonders all over them his eyes were focused solely on her.

From the way she looked in that dress (smoking hot, cause he knew what he was choosing after all), through the way her eyes were shining, hair flowing and cheeks flushing all the way to the fact that she finally allowed herself to relax and not overthinking all the stuff about expenses or being demanding.

Dream come true.

Living a fantasy when he grabbed her hand over the table and planted a soft kiss on her knuckles looking deep into her eyes.

Getting lost in their own private paradise when after the dinner they were just standing next to the railing, enjoying the peace and calmness, his arms around her waist, her back to his chest, not caring about problems, stuff to do or other people.

It was not often they could indulge and Dick was not going to miss the opportunity of being free for one night, able to plant little soft kisses on her neck, whispering soft words of love and feeling her body so close to him, while the a sign on the hotel room door clearly announced that guests requested privacy.

The silkiness of the sheets paled in comparison to the softness and delicacy of her skin and lips.

And the silence that was punctuated by her soft sighs and breathy words couldn't have been more perfect.

His woman.

Her man.

World could wait.

After all what could it do in a clash with a blooming love?

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #dick grayson smut #nightwing smut #dick grayson x y/n #nightwing x y/n #dick grayson fluff #nightwing fluff

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wonsunism · 1 year ago

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jealous! jake showing you who you belong to ??

it's not often that you need to spend time in the presence of other guys, however, given that you are a university student, it's not that easy to avoid it. especially when you are required a group project, and you end up being paired with one of the most good looking classmates of yours.

and that definitely did not grow on jake. he was even opposed to it until the last second. he just could not stand seeing you next to another man. and even away from him, where he can't see what's going on and what are you doing? in no possible universe could he agree with that. that being said, he made it clear that if this project has to happen, it will do in the living room of his house.

jealous and possessive, as he is, jake welcomed the new guy into his house, with a fake smile. "enter, please. make yourself at home!" he advised him. the two of you sat on the sofa and opened your laptops, while jake made his way to the kitchen, getting dinner ready for later. obviously, not for the new guy that was sitting, to jake's standards, much closer to you than he should.

you started working on the project regarding the constitution and manners in which the negatives overweigh the benefits. a quite dull subject, as you were not so fascinated about it. but who made you go for a law degree? there was no point in complaining now, rather rush to finish the work.

"is that your boyfriend?" your classmate asked, closing one of the tabs he found to be useless. you nodded while not taking your gaze away from the medium-size screen. "he must be a really jealous person if he made us do our project in here".

you moved your gaze at him "he just loves me a lot and wants me to be safe. what's the best way if not by having him around?" he shrugged his shoulders. he couldn't help but let a little chuckle out "does he love you right in all the ways, though?" initially you were confused by his comment,

but then you realised what he meant by that. and so did jake, who was just entering that room at the moment. "be sure i do" your boyfriend answered promptly, not moving an inch from the opening between the kitchen and living room. your classmate's face expression frozen at the sound of his voice, sighing. jake was quite intimidating.

"rush through that please, i need my girlfriend back" your boyfriend could not stop himself from staring at the one next to you "and move away from her" he added, walking away and leaving the two of you alone again.

you just tried to pretend like nothing happened, and even gave a try reassuring your classmate that everything is fine and there's nothing that he needs to worry about. even though that was not true. you continued your work, he making some jokes here and there to create a more comfortable atmosphere. and you laughed a lot, too much if you were to ask jake.

"i think we are done" you heard from the guy next to you, stretching your back and arms. "that went well, congrats!" you said, and were surprised to receive a hug from him. not aware what you should do in this situation, you hugged him back. after that, he smiled and said goodbye, and without thanking jake for having him, he went out the front door.

it was now jake that walked towards you, standing in front of the sofa. "do you think i did not see that?" he lowered down, bringing your faces closer together, while his right hand travelled to your scalp. "that was kind of bold of him" he grabbed your hair softly "and even bolder of you" he added, pulling your hair harshly. you whined, "i'm sorry, i did not know what to do"

"right" he let go of your hair and pushed you down on the sofa. without too much thinking, jake pulled down your shorts, revealing some pretty, black panties. you were confused by his actions, which led you to keep moving and denying your boyfriend.

"what are you doing" you exclamed, making eye contact with him.

"just reminding you that you are mine"

he got on his knees, pushing your legs apart and pulling you closer to him. he lowered his face down, not breaking the eye contact at all. he stuck out his tongue, going closer to your pussy. "you wonder what this tongue can do? don't you act like you don't know so well. after all, i love you so right"

he pulled your panties to the side, the tip of his tongue shyly touching your clit. you bit your lower lip, watching him between your legs. jake started to move his tongue up and down, in soft and slow motions, teasing you so well. you were so frustrated, you just wanted him all the way in.

"jake.." you started, throwing your head back and closing your eyes.

your boyfriend's motions became much sharper and faster, your clit feeling much too spoilt. you found it really hard not to cross your legs, due to the amount of pleasure he was giving you. his tongue was so skillful, and his hands were so hot and veiny, holding onto your thighs. everythink about him was so sexy. everythink about this moment was so sexy.

he kept playing with your clit, making you visit heaven. there was definitely no other person like your boyfriend. not other person that can eat you out like that. jake started to softly suck on your clit, you letting out a whispered moan. it felt so amazing, you didn't want this moment to ever end.

although, it felt like god listened to your desire and did the exact opposite. jake backed away, which only made you mad. his tongue felt so good, why would he leave?

he sat next to you on the sofa, and required you to sit between his legs, which you did. in a much more comfortable position now, jake got his fingers wet and teased around you pussy, making sure not to touch anything yet. he wanted you to be so desperate for him.

"who do you belong to, baby?" he asked, glueing his lips on your neck, leaving kiss marks everywhere.

you sighed, throwing your head back on his shoulder, and moving your face slowly towards him "you.." you said really quietly. jake fingers came closer to your pussy, playing around your entrance now, just as in getting you ready.

"what did you say, princess? i couldn't hear you properly"

"i said you" on a louder tone.

jake's index and middle fingers invaded your hole in a couple of seconds after that, making you moan his name instantly. his fingers were so long and thick, making them the best type for fingering. he started with precise and slow movements, kissing your cheek.

"good girl"

before you knew, jake's fingers started moving really fast inside your pussy, hitting your walls and not giving you a break from moaning. his breathe on your neck and face was so hot, and his spare hand was used to keep you in place. you were feeling so much pleasure at the moment, you could not picture exactly what was going on.

"jake, that is so fucking good" you barely said

"you should know who owns you, my doll. only i can make you feel like this"

jake's fingers left your pussy, showing you the liquid they were dipped in. "taste how sweet you are, princess" you took his fingers in your mouth, sucking on them, while still trying to cross your legs. even though he left your hole now, he was going so fast and steady that you couldn't stop from trembling.

he was so fucking hot.

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #kpop smut #jake smut #jake hard thoughts #jake hard hours #jake enhypen

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writing-until-i-drop · 4 months ago

Text

What's In A Name? Chapter Five

Meg Harding and Kate Carter were inseparable until their friends died five ago, then she ran to New Orleans to save lives as a paramedic. But when Javi calls on his two oldest friends to help him collect data, counting on their matching natural instincts for tornadoes, Meg goes home for the first time in years. That's where she meets Tyler and the rest of the Wranglers, the YouTube storm chasers her dad likes to watch, and finds herself fitting in more with them than with Storm PAR. Meg only plans to stay for the week but will it be easy to leave when the dust settles?

If a certain cowboy has a say in it, nothing about leaving is going to be easy.

A/N: Meg has to make a very interesting phone call...

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

Meg woke up with Tyler curled around her, his heavy arm draped over her waist, a large hand splayed across her stomach, keeping her tight against him. It had been the best night of sleep of her life and she stubbornly gave credit to the softness of Boone’s shirt for it. She carefully slipped out of his hold and down the ladder.

At some point, the Wranglers had driven the camper and the rest of their vehicles to a different motel and they were all gathered up outside, bundled in blankets, sitting around an extinguished fire. Boone was the first to notice her, popping out of his chair to hug her tightly, rocking her back and forth.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Doc, and thank you, thank you, for keeping T safe.” The rest of the Wranglers were quick to join in on the hug, even Ben after she heard the shutter of his camera. Meg almost started crying from the sheer amount of love surrounding her, feeling at home again in Oklahoma for the first time in five years. “You hungry, Doc?”

“Starvin’,” Her stomach growled in agreement.

“I’ll rustle something up,” Boone patted her on the shoulder. “Also, do your parents watch our streams?” She nodded. “They were name-dropping you something fierce in the chat last night, asking for updates if you were okay.” Of course, they had. Meg knew better than to think it was just her dad demanding answers in the chat.

“The whole crew’s probably at my parent’s house debating whether they should drive out here.” She shook her head with a huff of laughter. “Dex, can I borrow your phone? I don’t know what happened to mine.” He obliged and she dialed the house phone, putting it on speaker.

“Harding’s phone,” Rabbit picked up. “Meggy, this you?” Dexter’s mouth fell open, putting all the pieces together faster than the rest.

“Yeah, it’s me. Y’all can stop freaking out, all limbs are accounted for and in working order.”

“Bill, Jo, guys, it’s Meggy!”

“Meggy, honey,’ Preacher’s voice was the next on the line. “You scared us half to death.”

“Margaret Marie Harding,” Her mom shouted into the receiver. “Have you lost your damn mind?” Meg cringed,

“Mama, I’m just following in dad’s footsteps.” There were shouts of “The Extreme” in the background. “Also, y’all might be on speaker with the Tornado Wranglers.”

“Holy shit, Meggy,” That was Beltzer.

“We’re big fans,” And that was Haynes. The Wranglers were watching her with amused and star-struck looks. Ben, thankfully, was the first to recover.

“Your daughter is quite remarkable.”

“And alive,” Boone added, giving Meg a thumbs up that she returned, mouthing good job.

“We’re glad to hear it. Hi, Pumpkin.”

“Hiya, dad. Did you want that mug of yours signed? Pretty sure I can swing it.”

“Dani, get the man a mug!” Dexter pushed a laughing Dani towards the camper where Tyler still slept. The Wranglers and the original team energetically traded exclamations of excitement and amusement that Meg had kept her last name a secret for so long. That was until her mama started shouting again.

“I don’t want you anywhere near a tornado unless you’re harnessed in, do you understand me, young lady?”

“Mama, please, you’re embarrassing me.”

“Let me talk to Dexter,” Jo demanded. “He seems like the only responsible one.” Meg didn’t argue, taking her mom off speaker and handing the phone to Dexter.

“Yes, ma’am?” There was a shout of her name from inside the camper, signaling to everyone that Tyler had woken up to an empty bed. The Wranglers snickered at her, Lily giving her a good-natured shove to the shoulder. “Of course, ma’am. I’ll make sure of it.”

Tyler came stumbling out of the camper, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, a grinning Dani right behind him with a mug and a marker in either hand.

“Where’s Meg?”

“That’s Meg Harding to you, Ty,” Lily teased and Tyler’s eyes went wide. “Yup, your girlfriend’s the daughter of storm-chasing legends.” Meg flushed, hoping her parents hadn’t heard that. Tyler looked at her, dumbstruck.

“Your parents are…”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit,” Tyler ran a hand through his already chaotic hair. “You’re a-,” He pointed at her, “Your parents are-” Meg nodded. “Holy shit.”

“My parents are big fans of your channel, Ty.” She saw the moment Tyler’s brain fully stopped functioning, giggling.

“I need coffee,” Tyler’s shoulders slumped. He sat down in Boone’s abandoned seat beside Meg, grabbing her hand and squeezing it, like he was afraid she’d run off on him. Meg squeezed back. “Who’s he talking to?”

“My family.” Meg could get used to surprising the hell out of Tyler, laughing at the startled look on his face.

“Doc, Rabbit wants to talk to you.” Dexter jogged the phone over. “Can I meet your parents?” He whispered and Meg nodded, rolling her eyes with a smile.

“What’s up?”

“Don’t let your mom fool you, Meggy. She’s giddy as hell you’re chasing again.” Meg knew that in her heart but the reassurance made her smile. “Also, we’re betting on how long it takes you to ride the cowboy. Don’t tell your dad.”

“Rabbit!” Meg shrieked, slapping a hand over her mouth. She glanced over at the sleepy man beside her who didn’t seem to have heard what Rabbit said. Meg was going to turn that man into rabbit stew the next time she saw him.

“Blame Haynes, her idea.”

“Don’t blame me, blame Joey!”

“She knows damn well it wasn’t me, it was definitely Lawrence.” Could they get any more embarrassing? She felt like she was fifteen again, listening to the group place bets on how her first date would go.

“Guuuuyyyyysss. Can you please just put my dad on the phone?” There was a brief shuffle.

“Hey, Pumpkin. What was Rabbit saying?”

“Nothing, just being annoying. She glanced at her blonde cowboy, getting a mischievous idea. “Tyler’s here if you want to talk to him, he’s a fan of yours.” She giggled at the look on his face. “Well, you talk, he’ll hyperventilate.”

“Be nice to that boy,” Her dad scolded playfully. “I’ve got fifty bucks on you marrying him.”

“Oh my God, that’s so much worse!” She wanted to disappear into thin air. Tyler took the outstretched phone.

“This is Tyler Owens, sir.” Tyler sat up straighter in his seat, running a hand through his bed head.

Boone came jogging back to the group, holding a 7/11 bag above his head.

“I got you coffee, a muffin, and a burrito.” Giving Tyler’s hand one last squeeze, Meg went to collect her breakfast, thanking the man with a kiss on the cheek. “Dani said you take lots of cream and sugar.” Meg looked at the woman who shrugged,

“I guessed.”

“You guessed right, Sweet Thing. Thanks again, Boonie Baby,” She gave him another kiss on the cheek before going back to her seat. Meg kept the burrito, passing Tyler the blueberry muffin.

“Yes, sir. No, sir,” Meg couldn’t help but wonder what her dad was asking him, nibbling on the corner of the lukewarm burrito. Bean and cheese, nice. “No, she didn’t tell us her last name.” Tyler chuckled, “Yes, sir. I’m starting to understand that.” He paused, eyes going wide. Meg shifted in her chair, letting her legs fall across Tyler’s lap. He rested a hand on her knee and Meg couldn’t help but think that she could do this every morning, sitting there, admiring Tyler’s stubbled jaw line while the rest of the Wranglers joked around with each other. “I’d be honored but first we’ve got to go find Kate, yes, sir. Sapulpa.” He tapped her knee, “Here, darlin’.” He passed the phone, trading it for her coffee, his nose scrunching up. “I prefer black.”

“Not everything’s about you, Arkansas.” Tyler stuck his tongue out at her. “Hey, dad.”

“You should marry that boy, Meg.” Her eyes cut to Tyler who was eyeing her back with a small smile on his face, making him even cuter than normal.

“We’ll see, dad,” She sighed. “Gotta chase down my other half first. Now go feed the guys, I love you.”

“I love you too, Pumpkin. Come home before you leave.”

“I will, should I bring Kate?”

“And Tyler. Keep an eye on the sky, Pumpkin.” Meg hung up, mumbling through a mouthful of burrito.

“Trouble makin’ busy bodies, the whole group of ‘em.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were Jo and Bill Harding’s daughter,” Her mom would have liked the way he put her name first. “No wonder you’ve got such good instincts.”

“Get ‘em from my daddy.” Dani came over, presenting Tyler with the mug to sign.

“And here I didn’t think you could get any cooler, Meg,” Dani teased. “We gotta keep you around.”

“Here here,” Boone raised his coffee in cheers. “T, buddy, don’t go fucking this up for us.” The Wranglers all added their agreement, making Meg laugh. She swiped the coffee back from Tyler, admonishing him for drinking more than half the cup if he didn’t like it. Then it hit her and she nearly spit out her mouthful of coffee. Lily had called her his girlfriend and neither she nor Tyler had corrected her. What the hell did that mean?

“Stop thinking so hard, darlin’.” Tyler squeezed her knee like he could read her mind. “Just enjoy the morning.” His hand moved up to her thigh as he kicked back in his chair to eat and she rested her hand on top of his, letting her attention fall to Boone and Dani as they teased Dexter for his fangirling. Ben started snapping pictures and Meg didn’t let herself worry about how she looked wearing borrowed clothes, eating a gas station burrito, mud from the night before still on her cheeks, with Tyler’s hand on her thigh.

Unlike when he was chasing, Tyler was an incredibly safe driver on the way to Sapulpa. Meg on the other hand was an incredibly unsafe passenger. She had the passenger seat pushed all the way back, her feet kicked up on the dash, and her boots abandoned on the floorboards.

Lily had lent her a pair of mismatched socks, one was striped and the other was dotted. They were both singing along to the country music blaring on the radio and Meg couldn’t remember a time she felt happier. And she was sad she had to ruin it.

“I should probably tell you what you’re gettin’ into before we get there, Ty.” Tyler turned off the radio, giving her as much attention as he could while driving.

“What, darlin’, you hiding a boyfriend from me in Sapulpa?” Meg snorted, she wished that’s all she had to confess. Instead, she held out her hands in front of her. Her fingertips were all kinked, not quite straight. They were also calloused and scarred, not only from chasing but from her time as a paramedic. Her favorite scar was one on the pad of her thumb, permanently messing up her fingerprints, from when she stuck herself with an EPI pen instead of the patient.

“You ever notice how crooked my fingers are?”

“I was a bull rider, healed breaks are normal to me.” She hummed at his non-answer, answer.

“I met Kate in college and we became close, our friend Addy used to call us two shades of the same color. Always the same but slightly different.” Dandelion and Sunflower, shades of yellow, were her favorite comparison to make. She’d always make a joke about how they were happiest when the sun was hidden behind clouds, so they needed to be surrounded by bright colors. “Mama was her thesis advisor. There were six of us helping her with the research.”

Meg let the tears roll down her cheeks without wiping them away.

“Parveen and Kate spearheaded the actual idea, Javi collected the data with Dorothy, Addy was there to take photos, Jeb,” She chuckled. “Jeb was just in love with Kate, so he’d follow her anywhere, and I was there to make sure no one got hurt. But they did.” She had spent a lot of time on her partner’s couch drinking and thinking about the situation, coming to grips with the fact that her EMT certification couldn’t have saved her friends that day. “Everything was going great and then an EF-5 came out of nowhere.”

Tyler exhaled heavily, reaching out to rub her knee.

“We thought it was going to be an EF-1, maybe 2, so we didn’t have the good sense to be scared until it was too late.”

“I’m sorry, Meg,” Tyler offered in sympathy. Because what the hell else do you say when someone’s telling a story like that?

“Our only hope was an underpass, which tells you how shit outta luck we were. Parveen couldn’t run so fast and was swept up first, then I fell and I dug my fingers into the dirt to hold on.” Her fingers and wrist ached at the memory, “I broke every single one of my fingers and debris shattered my wrist. While I was layin’ there, I heard Addy and Jeb fly away, screaming for their lives.”

“Shit, Meg. That’s horrible,” She hummed in agreement.

“Kate survived of course but she won’t talk about it and Javi was in the follow vehicle. All he could do was watch as the tornado headed our way. To hear him tell it, it was the worst day of his life and it probably was.” The hurtful things Javi said the night before filtered through her mind, making her sick to her stomach. “Police officer found me and Kate stumbling along the highway, trying to get back to Javi, and took us to the hospital.”

Meg took a long, deep breath. If things had gone differently that day, her life would have turned out a lot differently. She never would have moved, none of them would have.

“Kate ran away to New York, Javi joined the military, and I went to New Orleans. I was a wreck on the job but my partner Nick’s always had my back. You’d like him,” Nick was her rock, both on and off the job. “He took me to my first second line after one of our GSW patients, Tayvon, a fifteen-year-old kid, didn’t make it.”

It had been her second week on the job, she had never been on the scene of a drive-by shooting before, there had been so much chaos and blood. They worked on him for a few minutes before they decided it was best to work while driving. Meg had still been an EMT, so Nick worked on Tayvon in the back of the rig while she drove through the busy streets like a bat out of hell. By the time they passed him off to the doctors, things were looking up.

“To see everyone smiling through their tears and celebrating that kid’s life, it healed me more than anything else ever could. Everyone needs a Nick and Kate didn’t have one.”

“I think I want to meet this Nick guy,” Tyler squeezed her knee, “Buy him a beer and thank him for taking care of you.” Meg chuckled, thinking about all of the embarrassing stories Nick would tell him about her.

“He’d buy you a beer, tryin’ to charm you into making me your problem instead of his.”

“Be my problem, baby,” Tyler’s hand moved upwards to squeeze her thigh. Meg laid her hand over his, tears starting up again.

“I’m crying about my dead friends while you drive me to see my traumatized other half. Hate to say it, Sweetie Pie, but I think I’m already your problem.” Laughter filled the truck, first hers and then Tyler’s. “A little late to back out now.”

“I’m not backing out, Meg, just making sure we’re on the same page.”

“Which is?” She feigned ignorance.

“You’re my problem, baby. All mine.” Her dad was going to be over the moon whenever she told him about this conversation. So would Nick.

“Thoughts and prayers, Cowboy. You’re gonna need ‘em.”

Taglist: @theforevermorereject @beltzboys2015-blog @writingrose @sinners-98-world @nerdgirljen @candlejuice @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @football1921 @katiemcrae @emma8895eb @itsdesiree86

Next Chapter

#twister 1996 #tyler owens #tyler owens x oc #twisters #twisters fanfic #twisters 2024 #kate carter #what's in a name fic

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fantastic-nonsense · 1 year ago

Note

Wasn’t it Alfred who’d made Damian Robin in Battle for the Cowl? Dick must have agreed after the fact, but Alfred was the one who set it in motion.

Nominally yes, in the sense that Alfred is the person who first put the cape in Damian's hands:

"You can't keep me here." "I'll do no such thing. But understand that you've been injured. Severely so." ......."What the hell are you pulling here, Al?" "It's time to earn your keep. If you're up for it." "So long as I'm not wasting any more time in here, whatever." -Battle for the Cowl #3

However, the reality is "not really." Three things to note about this:

One: no one in the story who actually knows what Damian's gotten up to while Dick was tracking down Tim and fighting Jason actually treats Damian as Robin. For the purposes of the narrative and everyone in it, Tim is still Robin, as Squire points out:

"I'm sure Nightwing could use a hand finding Robin. This way, then." -Battle for the Cowl #3

We don't really see anyone else's reaction to Damian wearing the cape in BftC. Even when Damian saves Tim while wearing the symbol, Tim has no actual reaction besides a single exclamation of Damian's name, and he seems more bewildered that Damian is there at all than he is about Damian wearing the Robin tunic. But the people we do see? Don't treat him as Robin. They treat him as an ally who happens to be wearing the Robin tunic for convenience.

Two: within the bounds of BftC, Damian is explicitly framed as being "Dick's responsibility" with Bruce gone. After Jason shoots Damian, Dick has the same conversation with Alfred that Bruce often did whenever one of his Robins was hurt, framed in a way that made it obvious where things were heading:

"Damian...this child...I could have gotten him killed tonight. I have a responsibility to him now. I let him down, Alfred." "Bruce also said the same of you...and Master Timothy, many times over the years." "And of Jason Todd." "Him as well." -Battle for the Cowl #2

Dick has already implicitly accepted Damian as his Robin at this point. And though Dick and Tim have not explicitly discussed it (as we see via their argument in Red Robin #1), it was also fairly clear that Tim would not be Dick's Robin based on how Dick thought of Tim by that point (as his brother, as his equal, as someone who should not be taking orders from him full-time). Tim had already spent time as the Robin to Dick's Batman back in Prodigal, and both boys had come a long way since then. Once Dick decided to take up the cowl at the end of BftC #2, it was inevitable that Damian would be his Robin rather than Tim (for a whole host of reasons I won't get into here). Alfred just hastened that inevitability.

Three: simply wearing the cape does not make you Robin. You are Robin if and only if two things happen: you have been explicitly accepted by Batman as his partner and Dick Grayson has given his blessing. You are a potential Robin. You are an ally wearing a Robin costume. But you are not Robin until those things happen.

Tim was not Robin in A Lonely Place of Dying even though he stole the costume with Alfred's help to save Bruce and Dick. Tim did not become Robin until after both Bruce and Dick had accepted him as such and he went through a training period (he was known as "Little Bat" until then, btw). The same is true of Damian, who wore the Robin tunic at least three times prior to actually becoming Robin (Bruce briefly took him out while wearing it in Batman and Son and he famously wore it during the events of Resurrection of Ra's al Ghul); he was no more Robin then than he was in BtfC.

The costume isn't what makes you Robin. Batman saying you're Robin and Dick giving the blessing of his parents' legacy to you makes you Robin (which. I will freely admit that's a loaded, complicated topic given the history of how the Robin mantle has been passed down over the years. but it generally holds true). Damian properly becoming Robin after BftC was clearly Dick's choice; Alfred can't "make" anyone Robin if Batman doesn't agree.

The core conceptual problem with Battle for the Cowl (well. there's about 5000 problems with BtfC. but you know what I mean) is that it tries to deal with about fifty different things at once, most of which all ordinarily would have gotten their own dedicated space across multiple books or tie-in comics to deal with. Instead, all of these things are smushed into a single massive threeshot event comic with awful characterization and a near-incomprehensible chain of events. In a perfect world, we would have gotten the same kind of build-up and transition between Tim and Damian that we did in the 90s when Tim became Robin after Jason's death. Unfortunately that's not what we got, so we're left to fill in the gaps ourselves.

But textually, Alfred did not make Damian Robin. Alfred handed an ally to the cause a Robin tunic during a crisis specifically for the purpose of rescuing Robin. After that crisis was over, Batman chose to make that same ally his Robin for reasons entirely unrelated to his wearing the symbol during that specific crisis. Dick chose Damian to be his Robin, and that choice should not be looked over just because removing it conveniently lifts some of the hurt feelings and messiness of that transition off of Dick's shoulders.

Dick handled his own legacy, as he should have. And while he did not handle it with as much communication and grace as he should have or probably would have liked to, it was his mantle and legacy to handle at the end of the day. For once, he had complete agency over choosing a successor to his heroing legacy (and his parents' legacy), not Bruce or Alfred or anyone who self-appointed themselves as a successor, and we should acknowledge and respect that.

He didn't pick Damian because Alfred unilaterally gave him a battlefield promotion; he picked Damian because he thought Tim was grown and independent enough to thrive without taking his orders every day and believed Damian needed his direct oversight and the growth opportunity being Robin would provide more than Tim did. Allow Dick the dignity of his choices instead of acting like he had no input or say in the matter of who his Robin was going to be.

#sidenote for my own peace of mind I just pretend that Dick gave Steph his blessing off-panel #everyone else got his on-panel blessing at some point except her so I just. fill in the gaps for her.#dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #damian wayne #tim drake #dick grayson meta #damian wayne meta #tim drake meta #(sort of)#long post #asks #queue

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