#this was really fun to write i hope its as fun to read

[drsreidssah]

Doll’s in high heels S.R

SPENCER GOES TO THE STRIP CLUB FOR THE FIRST TIME AND WHEN HE DOES HE SEES YOU …

Pairing — S15 Spencer Reid X Striper!reader

MDNI-18+only

Contains— reader is part of the BAU - sometimes she is a dancer-Stripper at this strip club called Dolls in high hills . Spencer has been pining for r since r joined the bureau. Derek is mentioned as teasing Spencer about the strip club . R in Spencer Kiss .. small age gap read at your own risk r is fem!reader ..

WC — 2.4K

Author notes : writing this got me back into my Spencer Reid era … I hope you enjoy this little fun I don’t know if you would call it a Drabble or not but I loved writing this it was fun in seeing Spencer in strip club— him being curious about and then bumping into you watching you on stage . Thank you for 96 of you I just realized how many of you there were much love to you all any ways enjoy this .

Divider by @uzmacchiato

“Doll’s in high heels”.. wasn’t exactly Spencer’s usual spot to be at on a Saturday night after a case. Hell, he didn’t even know what the hell he was doing pulling into the lot, let alone walking inside.

He’d heard Derek talk about it before — like a joke, like a tease — the way he always said it with that smirk, “You wouldn’t last five minutes in there, pretty boy.”

Maybe he wouldn’t.

Maybe he shouldn’t be here.

He even looked it up. The club. The reviews. He read about the history of strip clubs, the social structures, the dynamics between stage dancers and customers — textbook stuff. Detached. Clinical.

But stepping inside was something else.

The air hit him first — thick, sweet, perfume and something else he couldn’t place. Smoke maybe. Heat. The lights were low and red, like the whole place was holding its breath. Music pulsed under the walls. Velvet chairs. Glitter under dim lights.

And women. Beautiful, powerful women.

But none of them were you.

Not yet.

He kept his head down, fingers curled tight in the sleeves of his cardigan. Every step he took made him feel like he shouldn’t be taking another. He didn’t belong here — didn’t know the rules, didn’t understand the rhythm of this world. This wasn’t the BAU. This wasn’t a crime scene or a briefing room or a profile scribbled across a whiteboard.

This was you.

And the second you walked out — heels clicking, chin high, that look in your eyes like you were untouchable — he forgot how to breathe.

God.

You didn’t even see him.

But he saw everything. The way your hips moved like a promise. The way the light caught in your hair. The curve of your smile, just enough to kill a man. The way you commanded the stage — like it owed you everything and gave you more.

And it did something to him.

Spencer wasn’t jealous. Not really. It wasn’t in him. But there was something sharp in his chest, sitting there like glass.

Everyone else could watch you.

But they didn’t know you.

Not like he did. Not the way you bit your lip when you were concentrating or how your hands always fidgeted with your necklace when you were anxious. Not how your voice got real soft when you were tired but still pushing through. He knew the woman behind the glitter. And yet, here he was, frozen, unable to move.

He wondered what you’d say if you saw him.

If you’d roll your eyes. If you’d smile. If you'd pretend you didn’t care and then call him “profiler boy” later with a laugh you didn’t really mean.

Or maybe you’d just walk away.

Maybe this was a mistake.

He almost turned back.

Almost.

But then your eyes lifted — just for a second — right past the lights, past the stage, through the smoke and sound.

And landed on him.

And he swore you saw him. Not just saw — but recognized.

You had just stepped off stage, skin still warm from the lights, the music still ringing faint in your ears. Everyone clapped as you stepped off stage some threw dollar bills some threw roses .

You weren’t even looking where you were going — head down, eyes on the floor, already reaching for the robe draped over the edge of the curtain. You didn’t see him. Not until it was too late.

You bumped right into him.

Your fingers fumbled, breath catching sharp in your throat.

“Spence,” you said, his name falling out of your mouth before you could even stop it, soft, startled, all tangled up in the pulse still racing through your chest. “Jesus. You scared me.”

He looked like he didn’t know where to put his eyes. Shoulders stiff. Hands in his coat pockets, curled up like he was freezing, like maybe this was a dream and he wasn’t really standing in a strip club hallway with you nearly bare in front of him.

“I—” you started, glancing down at yourself, wishing you had something more than a lace thong and the shimmer still clinging to your thighs. “I wish I had something else to cover up with.”

But it was too late.

He’d already seen you.

He saw everything.

Maybe even your dance.

Spencer didn’t speak right away. Just looked at you like he was trying to process a math problem without all the variables. Like he’d walked into a different version of the world.

“How long,” he asked finally, voice low, like he wasn’t sure he had the right to. “How long have you been doing this?”

You blinked. “Spencer…”

He didn’t sound mad. Didn’t even sound judgmental. He just sounded hurt. Like he didn’t understand. Like he was trying to.

“Does Derek know?” he added, almost a whisper. “Do the others?”

“Spence. Please. Can I—can I just get dressed?” you said, not angry, just tired. Just exposed.

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

But he didn’t walk away.

Instead, he followed you.

You didn’t say anything as you walked down the hall. Neither did he. The only sound was the click of your heels on the floor, softer now, muted, and the way your robe dragged just barely behind you.

He didn’t speak when you opened the door to your dressing room, either. Just leaned against the doorframe, like he didn’t want to leave but didn’t want to come in either.

You turned your back to him, slipped behind the divider, fingers clumsy on the zipper of your costume. The silence made your throat burn.

“I didn’t think you’d ever come here,” you finally said, voice thin as the silk in your hands.

“I didn’t either.”

That was all he said.

But the way he said it?

Like maybe he wished he hadn’t seen it. Or maybe he was scared of how much he felt watching you. Of how long he’d been holding it in.

He asked again, quieter this time.

“Does Derek know?”

You paused, halfway through tying the sash of your robe. You didn’t look at him.

“I’m not sure,” you said honestly. “He’s mentioned the place before. Talked about it like it was just another stop. But I never asked him how often he actually came.”

You finally turned to face Spencer then. The lights in your dressing room were softer than the stage, but he still didn’t meet your eyes right away. Like seeing you like this — backstage, still glittering under harsh fluorescents, still catching your breath — made him feel something he didn’t have a name for.

“Please, Spence,” you said softly, stepping closer. Not touching, not yet. Just close enough. “I feel free when I do this.”

He looked up.

You searched his face for something — judgment, disappointment, anything — but it wasn’t there.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” you said. “I don’t think I even really can. But when I’m up there, I’m not thinking about them. The cases. The blood. The names. I’m not worrying about what’s next. I’m just… moving. Breathing. It’s like my outlet, you know?”

He was quiet for a beat, then laughed — not loud, not mean, not even surprised.

Just soft.

Just him.

“I get it,” he said finally.

You raised an eyebrow. “You do?”

He nodded slowly. “It’s not how I unwind, obviously. But I’ve read studies on it. About the psychology of performance. The control, the release. It makes sense.”

You gave him a small smile, grateful. But he wasn’t done.

“It’s just…” he trailed off, then looked at you — really looked at you. Like everything he’d been holding in was closer to the surface now. “I wish no one else got to see you like that.”

Your heart skipped.

“Spencer—”

“No, I mean—” he cut himself off, ran a hand through his hair like he was trying to fix something that wasn’t broken. “I’m not trying to be possessive. I’m not judging you. I just—”

He swallowed.

“I just didn’t realize how much I’d hate the idea of someone else watching you the way I just did.” Your chest ached a little. Not because he was wrong but because you knew exactly what he meant.

“I want to be the only one to see you like that,” Spencer says finally.

Your hands freeze on the edge of your robe.

You couldn’t believe it — not at first.

Spencer Reid was standing in the doorframe of your dressing room, eyes soft but burning, voice low and uneven, telling you that he wanted to be the only one to see you like this.

It knocked the breath out of your chest.

“Spence…” you said his name like a warning, like a whisper, like a prayer. But he didn’t back down.

He didn’t move.

He just looked at you — eyes tracing every inch of your face like he was scared he’d forget what you looked like, like he hadn’t already memorized it long before tonight.

“I know I don’t have the right to say that,” he added, quieter now. “I know you don’t owe me anything. I just…” He shook his head, lips pressing together like he was trying to hold it in, but he couldn’t. “I can’t stop thinking about you. And then tonight—seeing you like that… watching you command a whole room without even trying—”

He took a breath. Shaky. Honest.

“I didn’t expect it to hit me like this.”

You looked at him for a long second, heart thudding too loud in your chest.

“You think I don’t notice the way you look at me at work?” you said, voice soft but sure. “Like you’re afraid of wanting me?”

Spencer’s mouth parted, but no words came out.

You took a step closer.

“You think I don’t feel it too?”

His eyes met yours — wide, raw, hopeful.

“You… do?”

“I wouldn’t let just anyone in this room, Spence,” you whispered, tugging your robe tighter around yourself. “You think I let Morgan or Rossi walk back here? You think I let anyone see me like this after the lights go down?”

He shook his head, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I let you,” you said, voice breaking just a little. “You. Not because I had to. Because I wanted to.”

Spencer blinked. His hands were still in his pockets, but his knuckles were white.

“I don’t want to be just some guy sitting in the crowd,” he said. “I don’t want to go back to pretending that I don’t feel everything I feel when I look at you.”

You stared at him, heart in your throat.

He stared back.

Neither of you moved.

Not yet.

But the air between you?

It was already burning.

He finally steps forward.

Closer.

You don’t move, can’t. His eyes stay locked on yours — not wandering, not darting away — just steady. Soft. Sure. And aching.

“Tell me to stop,” he says gently, barely above a whisper, “and I will.”

But how could you?

Why would you?

You wanted this.

You wanted him.

So you don’t say anything.

You just look up at him, every unspoken feeling in your chest rushing toward the surface, and he sees it. Sees all of it. And you swear his hands twitch at his sides like he’s holding himself back, like if he touches you now he won’t be able to stop.

Then—

Both your phones buzz at the same time.

You both flinch. The sound crashes into the silence between you, a jarring reminder of everything that still exists outside this room. You both reach for your phones at the same time, neither of you wanting to look, but knowing you have to.

EMILY: URGENT.

MEET NOW. BAU.

You both stare at the message.

Spencer breathes out, jaw tight. His thumb lingers over the screen for half a second before he locks it and shoves the phone back into his pocket without another word.

You do the same. You don’t want the moment to die here. You won’t let it.

He looks at you again.

“So… is this…” he trails off, but he’s already stepping closer again.

His hand brushes against your hip — just barely. And when he leans in this time, he doesn’t hesitate.

He kisses you.

All of him — like he means it, like he’s needed it, like he’s been biting it back for months and can’t anymore.

It’s not soft.

It’s not gentle.

It’s real.

You grab the front of his cardigan and pull him closer, losing yourself in it — the way his hand finds the small of your back, the way his lips part against yours like he’s trying to memorize the taste of you. Like this might be the only time you get.

But it won’t be.

You both know that now.

And even when you finally break apart — breathless, buzzing, eyes wide and stunned — his forehead rests against yours, and you can still feel the shape of him in your hands. Neither of you say anything. You don’t need to. Not yet.

When he finally pulls away, lips swollen and breath unsteady, you keep your eyes closed for just a second longer — like maybe if you do, you’ll stay in the moment. Just a little longer.

“We should probably head back,” you say quietly, voice still shaky from the kiss. “Back to the Bureau.”

He nods.

But he doesn’t let you go.

His hands stay right where they are — one still resting at your waist, the other hovering like he’s not ready to pull back yet. His forehead presses against yours, and he breathes you in like he’s memorizing the scent.

You say it again, softer. “Spence… I need to get dressed.”

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat. He takes a step back like it physically pains him. “Sorry.”

He turns around — actually turns around, like a gentleman. Not peeking, not watching you in the mirror. Just stands there, tense, hands in his pockets, like he's trying to be good.

You change quickly, your robe dropping to the floor as you step into your jeans and zip up the side of your jacket. You pull your hair back, swipe a little of the glitter from your cheek, and glance in the mirror once — cheeks still flushed.

He doesn’t say anything when you step out.

Just looks at you like maybe he still sees you in that lace. Like he wants to.

You both walk out of the dressing room together, and as soon as you hit the parking lot, he speaks.

You get in. It’s quiet at first — the silence not uncomfortable, just… charged.

He starts the engine, shifts into reverse, but his eyes flick down.

To your legs.

Just for a second.

Then back to the road.

Then back again.

He tries to play it cool, but he’s failing. His hand tightens slightly on the steering wheel like he’s trying to ground himself. Like if he doesn’t, he’ll reach for you.

You see it all over his face — the wanting, the restraint, the soft ache he’s been carrying since he stepped into that club.

You don’t say anything.

You just reach over and touch his hand.

Light. Barely there.

He jerks just a little — not from surprise, but from relief. Like maybe he was waiting for you to do that.

He lets go of the wheel with one hand, reaches down, and laces his fingers through yours. His thumb runs along your knuckles like he’s trying to learn you by feel.

Neither of you speak.

But the silence says everything.

And it’s not over.

Not even close.

When you got to the Bureau, Spencer stopped the engine. He didn’t open the door. He didn’t move.

You looked over at him, confused.

But his voice came first. Low. Rough. Barely controlled

“I have to do this before we go in.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“Spence—”

He turned in his seat, eyes already on you, and leaned in.

And kissed you again.

Slower this time. Like he meant it. Like he wanted to hold the taste of you in his mouth a little longer. His hand brushed your cheek, thumb soft against your skin, and you leaned into it because there was nothing else to do but fall.

But then—

A cough.

You pulled away, dazed, lips parted, eyes still closed.

Spencer froze.

You turned slowly , There stood Emily . And Garcia.

You gasped, almost jumped. Spencer’s eyes widened, but he didn’t move right away.

Emily smiled.

“How long?” she asked, arms crossed, that amused look on her face that said she wasn’t buying anything you were about to say.

Spencer blinked. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You were still stunned, frozen in place. Your fingers lifted halfway to your lips like maybe you could still feel him there.

Emily didn’t stop smiling.

Neither did Garcia. She was bouncing slightly on her heels, like she’d just won something.

“How long?” Emily repeated.

You opened your mouth, your voice a little too soft. “A few hours…”

Spencer looked over at you, shaking his head slightly.

“Longer than that,” he said under his breath. “At least for me.”

Your eyes met his.

That was the truth. It had been longer for him. The glances. The lingering touches. The things he never let himself say out loud until tonight.

You both got out of the car. You straightened your jacket like it would somehow cover what had already been exposed. Spencer walked beside you, brushing your knuckles with his once — soft. Secret.

Emily and Garcia waited at the doors.

And you?

Still stunned. Still spinning.

But not sorry.

Not for one second.

Spencer stopped walking.

You turned to look at him, confused.

Emily and Garcia were just a few steps ahead — still smiling, still talking like nothing happened, but you could feel it. The way they were listening without turning around. The way Garcia kept stealing glances like she couldn’t help herself.

Spencer cleared his throat, eyes flicking up to yours, then down to the floor, then back to yours again.

“We should… um…” he started, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to find the right words. “Go on a date.”

Your lips parted, heart skipping, breath catching just a little in your throat.

“A real one,” he added quickly. “Not just—what happened tonight. I mean, that— I wanted that. But I also want more. You. Like—dinner, maybe. Or coffee, if you prefer. Or books. Or—”

You reached for his hand.

Soft.

Certain.

“Yes,” you said. “Of course.”

He blinked. Like he couldn’t believe you said yes. Like part of him was sure you were going to laugh it off, walk away, pretend none of it mattered.

But you didn’t.

Emily and Garcia were still ahead — definitely not listening.

Except they totally were.

You caught the way Garcia’s shoulder bounced, the way Emily’s smile tilted like she knew everything and had known it all along.

But you didn’t care.

You squeezed Spencer’s hand and leaned in, close enough that only he could hear it.

“I want that too.”

And when he looked at you this time — he didn’t look away.



[fullfledgedghost]

happy holiday star season and happy hatoful fandom secret santa exchange day everybirdie =) no other holidays today (lying)

my recipient was @iwritenarrativesandstuff ! i wrote a short fic about mirror hiyoko roping ryouta and nageki into some shenanigans, its mostly character interactions and one bit where i paraphrase instructions on how to set up a classic prank. i hope u enjoy! happy holidays ^_^

synopsis: hiyoko tries to play a practical joke on her teacher and gets nageki and ryouta to help. it... doesn’t go exactly as planned, but they still have fun!

“Hey Ryouta? Have you ever heard of April Fool’s Day?”

Ryouta and Hiyoko are hanging out after school at Torimi Café, doing their homework together. When Hiyoko asks him this question, Ryouta looks up from his work.

“Huh? April Fools Day?” He repeats, for clarification’s sake.

“Yeah! It’s an old human holiday,” Hiyoko excitedly tells him. “I don’t think it was ever that popular in Japan, but they celebrated it in other places. You play pranks on all your friends, but not mean pranks, just the funny ones.”

Ryouta hums. “I’ve never heard of that. It sounds kind of fun, but I don’t know how to pull pranks..”

Hiyoko nods. “Me neither! But learning about it inspired me to try playing pranks on people anyway.”

Ryouta suddenly looks nervous. “Are you gonna pull a prank on me?” He asks Hiyoko.

She laughs. “Of course not! I want you to help me pull a prank...” Hiyoko pauses for dramatic effect. “On our teacher!”

Ryouta seems relieved. “Oh, good. Wait, no, Hiyoko, what do you mean? Play a prank on our teacher??”

She grins. “Mhm! We both have class with Nanaki-Sensei, right? It would be the perfect setting for an ambush!”

Ryouta seems unconvinced. “I don’t know.. that seems like it could be dangerous. What if we get in trouble?”

“How could it be dangerous? It’s not like I’m suggesting we play a prank on, say, Doctor Iwamine.” Hiyoko replies.

Ryouta shivers. “Now that would be really dangerous. Just imagining what would happen to us is making me nervous!”

Hiyoko pats Ryouta on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, we won’t play any pranks on him this time. Maybe in a future story, though.”

“A what?” Ryouta looks confused.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hiyoko tells him. “So, are you in?”

Ryouta hums, thinking it over. “...sure, why not.”

“Yaay!!” Hiyoko claps. “Thank you, Ryouta!” She gives him a quick hug.

He smiles and returns the gesture. “No problem, Hiyoko.”

She pulls away and starts piling her homework up to put away in her bag. She then pulls out a blank piece of paper, and writes PRANK PLANS at the top. She shows it to Ryouta with an evil smile.

“So..” Hiyoko gestures to the page. “Any ideas?”

Nageki is sitting in his room reading when his phone rings. He sighs, putting in his bookmark before picking up the phone. It’s probably Hiyoko and Ryouta asking for help with their homework again.

When he picks up the phone, his suspicions are confirmed by the ‘Tosaka, Hiyoko’ caller ID that pops up. He takes the call.

“Hello?”

Hiyoko’s cheery voice answers from the other end. “Hey Nageki!”

Nageki smiles despite himself. “Did you need help with a homework problem, Tosaka?”

“What? No! Gosh, do you think so low of me, Nageki?” Hiyoko responds with exaggerated offense.

“...” Nageki stays quiet.

“Don’t just say nothing!! You’re so mean!” Hiyoko laughs. “Anyway, I actually wanted your help with something else!”

Ah, so he wasn’t entirely wrong. “Alright. What do you want help with?”

“Me and Ryouta are planning to play a prank on Nanaki-Sensei! Wanna join? We could really use your help.” Hiyoko asks.

That isn’t at all what Nageki was expecting. “You’re... planing a prank? Why?”

Hiyoko laughs nervously. “Well, there’s this whole story about an old human holiday, but I don’t wanna tell it again. Just for fun, I guess!”

Nageki shakes his head in disbelief. Those two can be so ridiculous. Still.. it did sound kind of fun. As long as Hitori doesn’t ground him or something because of it.

“Pleaaaase?” Hiyoko pleads with Nageki. “It’ll be fun, I promise! At least I hope it will!”

Nageki sighs. “..sure.”

“Great! Thank you, Nageki!” He could practically hear Hiyoko’s smile through the phone. “We can discuss plans tomorrow at school. Should we meet in the library?”

“That sounds good to me.” Nageki replies.

“Alright! See you later, Nageki!”

“Bye, Tosaka.”

After a day of planning, and a few days getting materials together, Hiyoko and her birdie backup are ready to go!

They sneak into school early, climbing through a broken window that the custodial staff hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet. Thank you, Anghel!

Trying to be quiet, even though they assumed the building would be empty, the trio makes their way over to Hiyoko and Ryouta’s homeroom classroom, class 2-3.

Nageki almost drops the plastic bucket they had brought, and refuses to accept Ryouta’s help when he offers to help carry it. Ryouta just sighs.

Once they reach the classroom, Hiyoko starts assigning jobs.

“Okay, Ryouta!” She whispers assertively while pointing at him.

“Yes?” He jumps as she turns and points at him so quickly.

“You’ll be filling the bucket with water!” She waits as Nageki hands Ryouta the bucket. “There’s a water fountain in the next hallway over, it should be the quickest way to fill it.”

“Aye aye, Hiyoko!” Ryouta salutes her before rushing off to fill the bucket.

“And you, Nageki,” she whirls around to point at him now, “will be holding the door steady while I balance the bucket on top of it!”

Nageki nods, seeming to take his job seriously. He likes getting to feel helpful, even if its for something silly like this.

Ryouta comes back with the bucket, trying to keep water from splashing out as he runs. Hiyoko laughs evilly.

“Perfect! Now, Nageki, the stepstool?” She turns to Nageki, who rushes over to the nearest janitor’s closet and grabs a stepstool from inside. He drags it back over to the door and gives Hiyoko a nod. She nods back, then mounts the stool and accepts the bucket from Ryouta.

With Nageki holding the door steady and Ryouta keeping lookout, Hiyoko takes a few moments to balance the bucket. She fumbles it a few times, but luckily doesn’t drop it, and in a minute or so the bucket is successfully balanced! Ryouta claps softly as Hiyoko gets off the stepstool and Nageki returns it to Mr. One’s closet.

Hiyoko high fives both of her friends. She giggles.

“Okay, now let’s get out of here! We can wait in the library until class is about to start, so we don’t seem suspicious.” Hiyoko tells the others. Both birdie boys give her a nod, and the trio dissolves into laughter as they race each other to the library.

After a little while of waiting and chatting in the library, the bell rings to signify that class is about to start. The trio leaves the library and make their way over to class 2-3, hoping they’ll be able to see their prank come to fruition before Nageki’s class started, since his homeroom was in a completely different classroom.

And it seems like it will! Right as they turn the corner of the hallway, all three teens can see a bird about to open the door to class 2-3! But...

“Sakuya, look out!” Ryouta shouts, trying to get the fantail’s attention. They were about to prank the wrong bird! Their classmate Sakuya was entering the classroom early, even before Nanaki-Sensei!

Sakuya turns around to look at Ryouta as he pushes the door open.

“Kawara? What are you-“ he is cut off by a wave of water, as the plastic bucket falls on him and soaks him!

Ryouta cringes. Nageki tries not to laugh. Hiyoko does laugh, but covers her mouth.

“Ashslkj!” Sakuya sputters, fuming with anger. “What mockery was that??? Do classrooms in Japan typically dump water on their students?? This is nonsense!”

“Sakuya, I’m sorry, this was a mistake. The bucket was for Nanaki-Sensei.” Ryouta tells him sheepishly.

“What are you talking about? Explain yourself, Kawara!” Sakuya points a soggy feather at the other bird.

Hiyoko steps over to them. “Sakuya, don’t get mad at Ryouta! This was my idea, I just asked for his help. Plus, he tried to warn you!”

Sakuya doesn’t look appropriately chastised. “Then I should be mad at both of you! Explain yourselves, now! I won’t be asking again!”

As Hiyoko and Ryouta try to explain the situation to a grumbling Sakuya, Nageki is approached by a rather worried Nanaki-Sensei.

“Wh-what’s going on here? Did somebody pour water on Shirogane??” Nanaki asks, concerned.

Nageki shrugged, trying not to get his friends or himself in trouble.

“There was a bucket on the door. I think Shirogane was going to find you, so it was probably supposed to fall on you.” Nageki tells him.

“Eep!” Nanaki seems scared just at the thought of such a thing. “M-maybe it’s a good thing I was late today, then...”

Sakuya notices Nanaki-Sensei’s arrival and storms over to him. Nanaki looks like he wants to hide.

“Nanaki-Sensei!” Sakuya barks. “Why weren’t you in your classroom! Class was about to start, and Doctor Iwamine sent me to fetch you for him!”

Nanaki laughs nervously. “Ehe, I may have.. forgotten to set my alarm for this morning. B-but at least I got here before class actually started!” He cowers under Sakuya’s angry gaze.

Nageki walks over to his friends as Sakuya begins lecturing Nanaki-Sensei about respecting himself and his responsibilities. Ryouta and Hiyoko both seem exhausted from trying to subdue Sakuya.

“Well... it seems like our plan failed.” Hiyoko sighs. “Sorry for roping you two into this. I thought it would be fun.”

“...I had fun.” Nageki admits. “Even though we hit the wrong bird.”

Ryouta chuckles. “Yeah, me too. We probably shouldn’t do this again, though. And we should hope and pray that Sakuya doesn’t sell us out to Nanaki-Sensei...”

“Or Hitori..” Nageki murmurs.

Hiyoko laughs. “As long as we don’t get suspended or killed, maybe it worked out okay!”

“Someone is getting killed? When and where? I may be interested in attending.” A deeper voice from behind makes all three teens flinch and spin around, where they find Doctor Iwamine standing menacingly in the hallway.

“Doctor Iwamine?!” Ryouta sputters. “What are you doing here?”

“And nobody is getting killed!!” Hiyoko adds.

The doctor shrugs, looking slightly disappointed by Hiyoko’s addition. “I was wondering why it was taking Shirogane so long to fetch his teacher for me. Now I see why. What manner of mischief has been conducted here?”

As Ryouta is about to start explaining everything again, the bell to begin class rings. Nageki looks towards his friends, waves, and then runs down the hallway towards his classroom. Doctor Iwamine seems annoyed by the interruption, while Nanaki-Sensei seems relieved.

“A-alright, everybirdie inside! Class has started!” Nanaki declares, nudging the bucket into a corner and holding the door for his students, who had gathered in the hallway as the chaos continued.

Doctor Iwamine sighs. “Oh well. I suppose I’ll have to get the story later. Farewell.”

Ryouta and Hiyoko sigh in relief as he leaves.

“We really dodged a bullet there,” Ryouta breathes.

“Kawara! Tosaka!” Both teens jump as their teacher singles them out. “Please go and get your classmate Shirogane a towel from Mr. One!”

Hiyoko elbows Ryouta lightly. “You jinxed us.” She tells him. He pretends to be offended.

“Quickly, if possible!” Nanaki-Sensei encourages.

Ryouta and Hiyoko both bow to him, flustered, before walking together to Mr. One’s room. They may not have escaped trouble for now, but they figured it was better not to test their luck.

Maybe next time they’d stick to a smaller scale prank. Or one with less water.

[shallowseeker]

I know why Cas says he cared about Sam because of Dean but I don’t get why he says it about Jack? I feel like his relationship with Jack was fairly separate from Dean

I personally don’t view Cas’s statement as that literal. To me, it means less that he cared about Jack because of Dean, and more that caring about one person gave him the courage to keep opening himself up.

Love, after all, spreads like a contagion. It grows, expanding outward like a stone dropped in water, rippling further and further. Dean wasn’t the start of Cas caring about things; Cas had his own convictions and compassion long before that.

But Dean was a turning point. He became family, a kind of structural support Cas could grow with (and change with, and mess up with, and come back to against all the odds). Through that foundation, it became possible for Cas to live and love more fully: Sam, Bobby, other angels, Claire, Mary, Jack, the AU hunters, Rowena, and humanity itself.

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 784: The first day's mountain

Pag 1

3: We're passing through the riverside road

4: I see it

6: Kaka

7: Ah!!

8: Teh!

9: It's the first day's

Pag 2

1: “mountain”!!

Pag 3

2: As we “promised”!!

Pag 4

3: It's the “first day's mountain stage”!!

4: A year ago

6: Manami-kun said it after the finish line, on the third and last day of the Inter High, when both of us were all worn out and barely still on our bikes

Pag 5

1: But having our race at the end on the final stage is too much pressure

2: Next year, if we both have the chance to run in the Inter High....

3: …. yeah

4: Let's race for the mountain stage on the first day

Yeah

5: Like Toudou-san and Makishima-san last year

Onoda!!

Manami-san!!

Pag 6

1: Manami!!

Manami-san!!

2: Onoda!!

3: He collapsed!!

Manami!! Take off his helmet

It's okay, I caught him

Onodaa!!

Onoda-san

Do we have a towel?

Danchiku, water!!

4: Next year... the mountain stage on the first day.... yeah

5: Got it....!!

Pag 7

3: When you run along a river....

4: the water only flows if there's a difference in elevation, either uphill or downhill!!

5: Here it's definitely uphill!!

Even if it looks like a flat at first glance, it's gradually climbing!!

Pag 8

1: Toward that mountain!!

Reading the map, it says that it's 5km until the base of the mountain!!

2: 5km!!

3: Don't lose sight of it like last year!!

Yes!! Sorry!!

4: Hold on tight!!

5: 'Cause I'll carry you all the way to the foot of the mountain!!

Pag 9

1: Thank you!!

2: “Positioning”....!!

3: When going from a flat to a climb you need to “position” yourself

Each team accelerates from the flats in order to bring their climbers to a good position

4: It's the so called “mountain's launching pad”!!

5: There will be a difference of several hundred meters in the first stage between a climber who was launched near the front of the group and a climber who was made to run up from the back of the group

Pag 10

1: Bring Onoda to the best possible position, Naruko!!

Oh-

Sohoku is moving up!!

Pag 11

1: -ruaaaagh

Ugh!! Sohoku's Naruko is so fast!!

2: I get what you're tryin to say, Hotshot!!

I'll take him!! Definitely!!

3: That's why I left the first result to Kabu!!

4: On that winter day, with an apologetic face

5: Ah....

6: Ah- uhm, I have something to tell you, but

Onoda-kun, who told us like it was difficult to say....

Pag 12

1: Ah the stove? You can just turn it off, we're the last ones

Yeah, please. Woah, look outside, it's snowing

Seriously? It must be cold

2: That's not it!!

3: Th-th- this morning... I got a text

4: What was that, an acceptance letter?

The proficiency exam?

5: It's a reply to the text I sent....

6: Three months ago!!

7: Uhm... really, I was worried that back when we made that promise it was right after the race and we were tired, so I thought maybe he had forgotten

Three months?

It was a long wait

So I sent him a text to ask him if he remembers?

Pag 13

1: And I received it this morning

Must be the proficiency test

Shut up!!

What are you whispering idiot

“Back when”, when was it?

No idea

2:He said only one word, “of course”

4: So, uhm... this time

5: Is it okay if I run for the first day's mountain stage during this summer's Inter High?

7: Is that so? Kakaka

Onoda-kun's eyes, like he couldn't contain his excitement...

Pag 14

1: I haven't forgotten it!!

2: I can't forget it!!

3: Onoda!!

Onoda-kun!!

Pag 15

1: 2km left until the foot of the mountain!!

2: Do your beeest....!!

Aren't they climbing at an amazing speed!? Each team is getting in line!!

Yeah, you're right!!

3: Every team is trying to “position” themselves for their climbers!!

“Position”!?

4: Also, look closely

Right now, the cyclist in the second position in the ranks

Pag 16

1: is the one who will race in the mountain stage!!

Pag 18

1: Oi, are you kidding me? Hakogaku is sending Manami?

From the first day!?

Manami is in second place

2: He's the “final boss”....!!

3: My dream of getting the red bib has been destroyed even before reaching the foot of the mountain....!!

4: Oi, look over there, that's not all!!

For Sohoku....

5: Naruko is pulling the “King of the mountain”!!

Wa- we're done for!! Completely!! My mountain prize!!

Pag 19

3: Manami-kun!!

4: Sakamichi-kun!!

Pag 20

1: It's time for our promise!!

We're almost at the foot of the mountain!!

[cajunfoxnight]

(Continuation of Rain's POV) Wish's expression turned to concern as Rain seemed to be floundering to get his words right. He could understand as much. They dont often-.. er.. ever, come across others out here, so this was a shock to all three of them.

As per usual, Reconstruct was awful when it came to any social interactions, and as such, not helpful in this situation what so ever.

'Come on there has to be something…!'

Wish's thoughts were interrupted by an idea that struck him. Reaching into one of his back pockets, he pulled out a small bag- dull in color, with the word "jerky" blurred across the side. Upon opening it, the smell of spiced dried meat came wafting from it. Putting on his best face, trying to look as least intimidating as possible (not that he ever could pull off such a look), he held the bag out to the boy.

"Oh! Are you hungry, maybe? Here! I have plenty of jerky, youre welcome to have some! No need to be shy, please help yourself!" The Eevee nudged the bag in Rain's direction, trying to entice him to take a piece. "Its really good~" he added with a playful tune.

He figured some food might ease the boy's nerves and maybe, just maybe, he'd be able relax around them. After all, who knows how long he'd been out here!

"Great.. youre giving him our food now, too.." Came the gruff voice of Reconstruct as he made himself reluctantly join the conversation. He reached into the offered (not to him) bag, and taking out a piece of jerky.

"…Would you like some too…?" Wish asked dryly, trying very hard to keep the sarcasm out of his tone.

"Well since you offered.." Reconstruct replied unbothered, biting down onto the dried meat, and tearing off a piece as he chewed it over.

Wish closed his eyes momentarily, drawing in a calming breath, giving up on any argument before it had even started.

Anyway..

"So, are you lost?" Wish tried again, then realized that was a silly question. "Oh- well I mean, its just that we dont see people out here very often-"

"Ever." Reconstruct interjected. "No one else should be out here"

"B-but.. you two are out here..?" Rain added, pointing out the hypocrisy.

Reconstruct only spared him a sharp glare. He didnt need this boy's sass. (Even if he did make a point.)

"Oh… well, ah.. its…. complicated.." Wish muttered, looking sheepish as he scratched the back of his head.

"And none of your business-"

"Would you stop that?!" Wish hissed back at his partner. "Youre not helping.."

Reconstruct shrugged indifferently.

Wish glanced back at Rain in the same concerned face as before, then back to Reconstruct. He kept his voice low, even tho there was little point as Rain was standing right in front of him, so any secrecy wasnt going to be very secret. "We should help him.. But where do we even start..?"

Finishing off his piece of jerky, and helping himself to another, Reconstruct didnt appear to share the same concern.

"I tell you what.." he started, "Since youre the one that found him, you can be the one to deal with him." He added a less than playful slap on Wish's back, the force causing the Eevee hybrid to stumble forward, thankfully catching himself before he fell over.

"W-well- Wait- What are you going to be doing, then??" Wish asked, confused.

"Hm? Oh im not dealing with whatever this is. You let me know when you figure it out." With that the Silvally hybrid washed his hands of the situation, excusing himself from the conversation. He walked a few feet away and found himself a spot on the desolate rock, making himself quite comfy on the ground; laying on his side, back turned to the other boys, and continuing eating the piece of jerky.

Wish's ears and tail wilted in defeat. He looked back to Rain who was looking even more confused now. He really wanted to put his mind at ease. After all, how else could they help, if he was too wary to speak to them? Putting on smile, he shuffled himself to be a bit closer (but not too close).

"Dont worry about him. He's a little rough around the edges but he's actually really nice once you get to know him."

There was a loud huff of disagreement.

Wish smirked in his small victory, even if it was only temporary. Now to get back to the matter at hand.

"So.. Uh.. How about we start this over, hm?" Wish cleared his throat, straightening up. "Hi! My name is Wish. You seem to be lost. Perhaps we can help you get home?"

(And then stuff happens here : D Wish is probably going to babble on like he knows what he's talking about and help get his new found friend home!.. Pretty sure anyway.)

[arkaniske]

Say it like you Mean It

AO3 Link \\\ Chapter Six: Language of Flowers.

4700 words \ SFW \ Jayvik Beta read by @kitcatkim

Summary: Five times Jayce brought flowers for Viktor and one time Viktor brought flowers for Jayce.

The language of flowers was an unnecessary invention. That had been Viktor’s belief for most of his life, a sentiment born out of practicality. Flowers were ephemeral, delicate things, wilting long before their meanings could take root. Why rely on something so transient to convey emotions when words carefully chosen and expertly delivered, could convey so much more?

Chapter One: Daffodils \\\ Chapter Two: SunflowersChapter Three: Bluebells \\\ Chapter Four: GardeniasChapter Five: Camellia \\\ Chapter Six: Red CamelliasChapter Seven: Language of Flowers

The language of flowers was an unnecessary invention. That had been Viktor’s belief for most of his life, a sentiment born out of practicality. Flowers were ephemeral, delicate things, wilting long before their meanings could take root. Why rely on something so transient to convey emotions when words carefully chosen and expertly delivered, could convey so much more? Of course, Viktor understood the sentimental value of a rose, but it was not one he had felt tug at his own heart.

That was, of course, until Jayce Talis made his grand appearance. The language of flowers had become unavoidable, inescapable, even. It had wound its way into Viktor’s life with every bloom his partner had left in his wake, like roots taking hold of his heart. Each offering had been a puzzle wrapped in fragrance and colour.

Viktor really loves puzzles.

It was no surprise, then, that when Jayce handed him the first flower Viktor had found himself drawn to the mystery of it all. At first, it had been nothing more than a simple curiosity. The flower had come out of nowhere but as Jayce had rambled on about finished projects and breakthroughs, Viktor had picked up on a carefully slipped-in word. Symbolism. Jayce, the Golden Boy of Piltover, Man of Progress, caring about the symbolism of a flower. Not just that, he cared about what it would mean should it be gifted to Viktor.

This piqued Viktor’s interest.

As more flowers followed, each one layered with intentions, Viktor had realised this was more than just a fleeting whim. It was more than just his partner’s latest obsession bleeding into their everyday life. There was care to it, depth even. Jayce was desperately trying to speak to him and all Viktor had to do was solve the riddle presented to him.

And that is what led him here, to the book now resting in his hands.

It was an old thing, the spine cracked and the pages worn thin, a rare relic of a life he hadn’t brought himself to think of in many years. Among the few possessions he had kept from his mother’s passing, this book had lingered in his collection. She had been sentimental to her core, always finding beauty in small things—pressed flowers between book pages, trinkets collected from the markets, a well-worn book on flora she swore by. He still found comfort in creating space for her memory in his life, to know that she could still guide him even in her absence.

The book stayed. No matter how tall the walls he built around his heart, the softness he had inherited from her still found its way through. The memories of her delicate fingers thumbing through the pages, a faint smile on her lips as she recited the name of the flower, its uses and, at last, its meaning. He remembered her spending hours writing in the margins of the book as she learned the meaning of a new bloom. Back then, he had dismissed it as one of her whims, a charming distraction to occupy her. He realised now it had been one of her ways of connecting with the world—quiet, deliberate, and deeply meaningful.

Now, the book, heavy in his hands and filled with meanings that seemed to whisper gently back at him, was forcing him to reconsider what he thought he knew of flora. Each flower Jayce had given him had nudged open a door he hadn’t realised was locked, and the book had become a guide through the uncharted territory Jayce had created.

His mother would have laughed softly at him, perhaps given him a loving tease about his sudden interest in something he once had no time for. She would have called it fate, or something equally sentimental, always eager to romanticise the quiet threads of connection that wove through life. Viktor didn’t believe much in fate, but as his thumb brushed the entry of a red camellia, he couldn’t deny that perhaps… His mother had seen truths he once had overlooked.

The words were staring back at him. Unyielding love. His mother’s handwriting, looping and intricate, filled in the meaning of the flower in the margins.

A daring flower for a daring heart. The kind of love that can change everything, if you’re brave enough for it.

Perhaps he could find it in his sentimental heart to believe in fate like his mother would have done. His gaze drifted over to the bouquet beside him. Vivid and unapologetic, their message impossible to ignore. Like an invitation to feel more. Even now, Viktor couldn’t help the faint pull at his emotions over Jayce’s boldness. Leaving no room for doubt anymore.

There was only space for Viktor to respond.

\\\

The sound of the lab door creaking announced Jayce’s arrival, his steps hesitant but unmistakable. Viktor didn’t glance up immediately, though the sound tugged faintly at the corner of his thoughts. He was sitting by their shared desk, eyes focused on the book in his hands as if the scribbled words could bring him a last moment of comfort.

“You are late.” Viktor broke the silence without looking up, his tone carrying a deliberate neutrality. His fingers slid down to the edge of the page as if the texture might anchor his scattered thoughts. The shuffling footsteps faltered, a momentary hitch that Viktor caught before he turned the page.

“Yeah, uh, sorry about that…” Jayce answered, his voice softer than usual. “Didn’t sleep great.”

Viktor rose from the chair to face Jayce. He finally allowed himself to glance over to his partner standing on opposite side of the room. It was easy to spot the nervous tension in Jayce’s shoulders, the way his eyes flickered with uncertainty around the room. Viktor followed that flicker, noting the way it returned over and over to the bouquet of camellias resting on the desk. His heart gave a quiet, inexplicable tug at the sight of him. Ah, there it is, Viktor thought, the weight of things unsaid.

“Did the flowers keep you awake?” Viktor asked lightly, a subtle fracture in their charade. It was the first direct acknowledgement of the flowers’ meaning, a quiet revelation that he understood their weight, and now Jayce knew that he knew.

Jayce’s reaction didn’t disappoint. His ears turned a telltale red and he quickly shook his head. “No! No, I—uh, I just…” Viktor watched as Jayce stuttered through his words, trying his very best to come up with an excuse. In the end, he gave up, mouth shutting closed. “Maybe…” Jayce’s voice was so quiet Viktor barely caught it. His partner’s nervous energy filled the space between them like static energy of an overcharged power regulator.

“Hm…” Viktor hummed, a low sound that carried more weight than it should. He held his steady gaze on Jayce, watching the man all but squirm under it. For a moment he expected amusement to grow in his chest but no—instead he found himself overwhelmed with endearment. It was disarming, how someone so bold and unyielding like Jayce could falter so entirely in matters of the heart.

The soft thud of Viktor closing the book was enough to snap Jayce’s attention back to him. His eyes narrowing at the worn cover as if it might explain itself. Viktor studied him silently, watching the realization slowly take hold. Last time he had been subtle like this it had taken a moment. But he could wait.

Viktor waited.

Jayce stared.

Viktor waited some more, allowing himself the faintest of smirks. Jayce all but gasped loudly, breaking the fragile quiet. For a moment, it looked like he had entirely shut down, his thoughts scrambling for purchase as though Viktor had short-circuited him. He watched the realisation dawn on Jayce like the slow bloom of a flower. His partner’s lips parted as if to speak, then closed again and Viktor could see the gears turning, piecing together what was in front of him.

“Is that—?” Jayce trailed off, his words catching in his throat as his mind seemed to race ahead of his mouth. “Is flowers? Book on flowers?” The phrase sounded ridiculous as he said it and Viktor allowed a smile to crack his neutral expression. “It is.” His voice remained calm. “Ah, more specifically symbolic meanings.” His calm delivery only making Jayce’s reaction so much more delightful.

Jayce blinked rapidly, his eyebrows shooting upwards. “And you’ve been reading it?” His voice climbed a pitch, “Like—actually reading it?”

“I have.” Viktor acknowledged with a subtle nod. “It belonged to my mother. She always had her way of finding meanings in the smallest things, an appreciation for connections others might overlook. It has been… Useful in navigating, well, you.” Viktor’s eyes flickered to the flowers once more. Vivid against the muted tones of the lab. He had to remind himself to slow his breath.

Jayce’s gaze darted to the flowers, then to the book and finally to Viktor’s eyes. His throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Does that mean…?” The question died halfway, as if finishing it might make the situation heavier. Viktor’s sharp eyes caught the slight tremble to his partner’s fingers.

“It means,” Viktor began, his voice softening to soothe Jayce’s worry, “that I have been paying attention, Jayce. Perhaps more than you realised.”

Jayce’s nervous laugh was almost a relief in the tense air between them. “A-ah… That’s… That’s good, right?” He asked with as much confidence he could muster, voice still holding a light tremble to it as if testing the weight of Viktor’s words.

There was something so profoundly endearing in Jayce’s nervous energy, how someone so bold and confident in the public eye could falter so completely here, in the quiet space between them. How out there he could be everyone’s charming Jayce but in here? In the soft silence of their lab, between petals and golden thread? This was a side of Jayce only meant for Viktor’s eyes.

“Good?” Viktor echoed; he felt the amusement linger in his tone. Even now, Jayce was standing with no flowers to hide behind and he wanted to know if he did good. “I would think so, considering the effort you have put in it.”

Jayce blinked, head tilting. Viktor could only imagine the thoughts going through his head, searching for the effort it had taken him to deliver flowers. Gods he’s precious when confused, Viktor tried not to smile at his own thoughts. Jayce shook his head before speaking; “I wouldn’t say it was that much effort-“

With a simple raise of his eyebrow Viktor cut off whatever dismissing statement Jayce was about to say. “Daffodils, sunflowers, bluebells, gardenias…” Viktor continued by subtly gesturing to the red blooms next to him. “You have gifted me quite the collection. Each one with a meaning, each one deliberate. It has not gone unnoticed.”

“Oh…uh- I didn’t think you would…” Jayce answered, shifting in his place as his thumb started rubbing comforting little circles into his own palm. “I-I mean. I wasn’t sure… I thought you might find it dumb or- I don’t know? Too much? Not enough, maybe…”

“Not enough?” Viktor stared at him in disbelief. Did they go to the same event? Did Jayce not see the pride which Viktor carried his patterns? He quite literally walked the halls of the gala like a trademarked Talis just for Jayce. Viktor couldn’t bring himself to say any of that, however. “Jayce, you gave me a Gardenia. That is not subtle. That is, in fact, quite a message.”

Jayce’s lips parted, as though he meant to speak, but nothing came out. Viktor allowed himself a small smirk. He had spent countless hours parsing the meanings Jayce had gifted him, the hidden confessions wrapped in petals and scent. It had been a puzzle, yes, but one layered with tenderness and vulnerability. He preferred to be composed, methodical even, but Jayce always had a way of disarming him. Of making every moment feeling alive.

Viktor allowed the moment of silence between them to stretch, watching the ever-blushing Jayce stare back at him. It pulled at his heart, striking something tender within him. How many times had Jayce worn his heart on his sleeve, unguarded and vulnerable, even when he didn’t realise it? And how often had Viktor sidestepped the invitation to meet him halfway in fear of hoping too much? In desperation to protect his own sentimental heart?

Jayce was already standing halfway waiting. All Viktor had to do was to follow the bond that tethered them together.

“You,” Viktor began, his voice quieter now as he found himself nervously tracing fingers across the spine of his book, “make even the smallest thing feel important. Brighter, warmer—like they matter more because you touched it. It is… eh, infuriating, in a way.”

Jayce opened his mouth, Viktor assumed to apologise. “Infuriating,” he quickly continued before the other man had a chance to speak, “because… It leaves no space to hide. No corner to retreat to. Everything you do, every flower or every look or every touch, it demands attention. Demands feeling.” Viktor paused as he could feel himself getting flustered with the vulnerability of the moment. Exposed. Nervous. Was this how Jayce felt every time he’d brought a flower? Every time he’d let his heart show? He looked at Jayce carefully. His heart stuttered. Jayce was looking at him like he was hanging the moon and stars with every word. More feelings to be demanded. He felt unsteady.

“Even as I told myself I preferred my solitude, you… made it impossible. You, Jayce. Are impossible not to feel. Everything you do. Everything you are. I-“ It was Viktor’s turn to have his sentence trail off. He felt his own breath grow heavy in his chest, and for just a moment, he considered retreating, drawing back to the safety of quiet gestures and unsaid truth. But he knew, no matter where he went, no matter how tall the walls around his heart might grow—He would always seek Jayce out in the end.

“You are extraordinary.”

The words left Viktors lips before he could even think, aching with affection for his partner. Jayce’s breath hitched loudly with the gentle confession, his eyes searching Viktor’s face with an intensity that felt like gravity, pulling Viktor closer even as he fought to keep his composure. He could so easily give in, cross the room and find himself by Jayce’s side but—no. Viktor had a plan, and he was determined not to let Jayce derail him from delivering the confession he intended to give his partner.

Viktor took a deep breath before he turned slightly to the side to comfortably place the book on their desk. The motion revealing something hiding behind his frame. A small bouquet resting on the edge of the table.

Jayce’s attention was immediately locked on the flowers, eyes wide with surprise and something Viktor couldn’t quite read. The arrangement was modest but purposeful. Delicate Lily of the Valley, soft blues of Forget-Me-Not and the bold red of a Chrysanthemum. Viktor looked from Jayce and over to the blooms, his heart beating like a hummingbird in his chest.

“Viktor—I…” Jayce said his name like a plea, voice so thick with emotion Viktor wasn’t sure if the man was about to laugh or cry. His partner’s expression almost twisted into pain from yearning, he couldn’t ignore the light tremble to his frame either. Jayce was just about to crumble.

No more hiding behind walls, petals, or cautious words. No more.

“I have spent some time thinking of how to give back to you.” Viktor said, his voice soft, steadier than he felt. “How…To speak a language you have already mastered.” He carefully picked up the bouquet, holding it as if it was something precious. Viktor’s gaze met Jayce’s as the words hung in the air between them. The warmth in his partner’s eyes made his chest ache with the distance between them.

 “I believe it is my turn, now.” Viktor stepped closer.

“Lily of the Valley,” Viktor began. His gaze fell to the white blooms nestled in the bouquet, white bells arching gracefully along slender green stems. “They are for sweetness, for returning to happiness. For the joy you have brought into my life, Jayce.” Although he had never heard his mother speak the words aloud, he could almost hear her voice now, gently reciting the lily’s entry as if she was beside him. A quiet kind of joy, the kind that fills the spaces you didn’t know were empty. A reminder that true happiness often whispers instead of shouts.

He took another step, cane tapping softly against the ground. Drawn to the warmth and presence of the man before him, Viktor continued. “Forget-Me-Not,” His voice felt raw with emotions, “they hold the meaning of always remembering you. Of how even in your absence, your presence lingers with me.”

The tiny blue blossoms seemed impossibly delicate as he turned the bouquet slightly, letting the light catch the soft hues. This one he had heard his mother speak once, her voice soft in his mind as he reminded himself. A flower for the memories that cling to us, for when we are apart but still hold each other. To hold this flower and say, ‘Not for a moment will I forget you, ever.’

He swallowed, his golden eyes meeting Jayce’s fully now. The man stood still; his eyes fixed on Viktor with awe. “Even when you are not here… you are.”

His eyes lowered to the deepest hue of the bouquet, his thumb lightly tracing the bold red petals as if they might lend him the courage to continue. Viktor took his final step, coming to a halt before Jayce, close enough now to feel the warmth radiating from him like the sun itself. He had closed the distance. Now he just needed the words. “And these…” His breath caught, and for the first time, he felt himself break just a little under the weight of the flowers. For a love that demands courage. It does not come subtly, but boldly, asking you to risk everything—but it is worth everything. “Red Chrysanthemums.” The words left him as a little more than a whisper, the name heavy on his tongue. “They mean—” He paused, heat rising unbidden to his face as his chest tightened. He had prepared for this, every word carefully chosen, every thought rehearsed. It should have been simple. The meaning of the red bloom stuck somewhere between his chest and throat, and he couldn’t understand why. He couldn’t have come this far just to go still, could he? He felt the flower bloom in his heart. The meaning burned warmer than any ember could.

I love you.

“I love you.”

Viktor’s eyes widened at the rough tone of Jayce’s voice as he spoke. His attention snapped back to the man in front of him only to have his heart stutter. Jayce was looking at him with a smile so pure, so brilliant, it was almost too much to bear. It was the kind of joy that seemed to overflow, unrestrained, pooling in the corners of his eyes as if a single blink would release the tears clinging on to his lashes. “I love you,” Jayce said again, the words tumbling from his lips like they had been locked away for too long, finally free. His voice cracked, but he didn’t seem to care. “I love you—Viktor— I-” Viktor’s breath caught in his chest, his mind spinning as his body moved before he could think better of it. The flowers in his hands slipped from his grasp, forgotten as they fell to the floor. His cane meeting the same fate as he let it go, his hand suddenly too preoccupied with something far more important. He closed the space between them in a single purposeful step and reached for Jayce. His hand found purchase at the collar of Jayce’s shirt and there was no resistance as he pulled the other man close with desperation. Viktor’s lips crashed against Jayce’s in a kiss unrestrained and unapologetically raw. It was though all the emotions Viktor had kept locked at bay, all the feelings he had neglected to voice, spilled forth in one singular act. Jayce let out a surprised, breathless sound that quickly melted into something deeper. One hand instinctively gripping Viktor’s waist while the other found the back of his head, fingers threading into the soft curls at the base of his neck. Viktor melted. The kiss was everything and nothing like he had imagined—messy, uncoordinated and yet so profoundly grounding it made his head spin. Jayce’s lips were soft and warm, moving against his own with a tenderness that contrasted the intensity of what they both felt. Viktor tilted his head, deepening the kiss. He poured into it everything he had no words for, a silent confession of his heart. The fingers curling in Jayce’s collar became a plea to never leave, his other hand coming to rest at the man’s jaw as a promise to cherish him, the kiss becoming a promise to nurture whatever might grow between them.

Jayce pressed closer, his broad hand splaying over Viktor’s back, pulling him in like they couldn’t possibly be close enough. The heat between their bodies burning bright with the shared affection. Viktor felt ablaze with every touch, every press of lips—It wasn’t just the wall of petals Jayce had burned down but the very walls around Viktor’s sentimental heart. Jayce was keeping him so warm. So at home. Viktor couldn’t imagine a world where he felt cold or alone again.

Viktor had half a mind to chase after Jayce as the man pulled away, instead he was soothed with small butterfly light kisses to his cheekbone and right above his upper lip. Warmth lingering long after his partner’s lips left, and he couldn’t help the soft chuckle of joy.

“Please say it back.”

Jayce’s voice, thick with emotion, broke the quiet. His breath ghosting against Viktor’s lips as he spoke.

Viktor opened his eyes, tilting his head slightly to meet Jayce’s pleading gaze. A flicker of amusement danced in his own as he let a smile curl over his lips. “Eh, flowers not enough for you now?” he teased gently, his voice softer than what usually weaved through his playfulness.

“Please.” Jayce repeated, his trembling, his eyes shining with something vulnerable that Viktor felt his heart twist.

The teasing fell away quickly as Viktor let out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing against Jayce’s cheek, wiping away a tear neither of them acknowledged.

“I love you.” He said simply, but his voice carried all the weight of the moment, all the meaning the flowers and kisses couldn’t convey.

Jayce’s eyes fluttered shut, a laugh slipping through his parted lips, half a sob and half relief. “Viktor—I…” He began, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. His large frame trembling ever so slightly with relief. Viktor surged forward, cutting him off with another kiss. This one was slower, sweeter, an affirmation wrapped in tenderness. His hand slipping from Jayce’s collar and coming to rest over his heart, feeling the steady and strong beat beneath his palm. He could feel his partner soften in his hands, melting into the moment like he’d found the place he belonged. It almost made him weep with how soft it all was. How deeply comforting it was to find the soul that mirrored your own.

The kiss stayed soft and light, every moment deliberate and unhurried. Viktor tilted his head slightly, his nose brushing against Jayce’s cheek as he savoured the closeness. It was as though time had slowed, the world reduced to just them and the quiet, electric hum of their connection.

Between the press of lips, Viktor caught faint murmurs—soft, barely audible whispers that sent a rush of warmth over him.

“I love you—I love y—love,” Jayce muttered, the words slipping free like a mantra, unbidden but true.

Viktor exhaled against Jayce’s mouth, a sound that carried equal parts affection and quiet disbelief. He allowed himself to pause, just briefly, to take in the sight of the man before him. His partner’s eyes were shut, lashes brushing against his cheeks and a flush painted his skin, vibrant and full of life. It was staggering, raw and beautiful in a way Viktor couldn’t put into words.

Jayce’s lips found his again, and Viktor couldn’t stop the quiet laugh that spilled between them. “You are relentless.” Viktor murmured as if sharing a secret meant only for the two of them. Jayce pulled back just enough to meet Viktor’s gaze. The amber of his eyes eaten up by the blacks of his pupils. “I mean it,” his voice was low now, hand brushing against Viktor’s as it rested over his chest, interlocking their fingers. “Every time. I mean it.” It was so honest. “I believe you.” Viktor answered, he had no other choice but to believe Jayce. How could he not? Every action, every glance, every flower had led them here, to this moment. Viktor didn’t just believe Jayce, he felt the love. It was rolling off his partner like waves of water to drown in, to submerge in and never return to the surface. Their foreheads came to a rest, soft breaths sharing the air between them as they simply basked in each other’s orbit. Neither spoke, silence filled with something vibrant, something alive. When their eyes met, the sheer joy reflected in Jayce’s gaze made Viktor’s lips twitch into a smile. Jayce broke into a grin first, wide and unrestrained, and Viktor couldn’t help but mirror it, a quiet laugh escaping him as the weight of the moment gave away to something lighter. Jayce’s shoulder shook with a soft, bubbling laughter, and Viktor let himself lean into the joy. His own chuckles joining the sound. “You are amazing.” Jayce said between breaths, his grin so wide it threatened to split his face. “I mean it, Viktor. The flowers—I—” Viktor’s smile softened, a warm glow settling over his features. “Mm, well, I cannot take full credit. Julianna helped.”

Jayce blinked, pulling back just enough to look at him properly, his expression shifting into surprise. “Wait—you know Julianna?” Viktor’s smirk returned, playful and sharp. “Of course. You think I would entrust something as delicate as your feelings just to anyone?” Jayce sputtered, torn between laughing and looking scandalised. “I—she never said anything! Did you… Did you plan this with her?” Viktor chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Plan? No, not exactly. She was eh… Enthusiastic in the supply of flowers.” He admitted, his voice carrying a faint note of pride as he continued, “but I chose them. Their meanings, their purpose—those were mine.”

He watched as his partner’s eyes shifted from surprise to something softer, almost awestruck in nature. Jayce’s cheeks flushed deeper as his gaze darted between Viktor’s eyes and the playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Gods,” Jayce whispered, “I’m so in love with you.” Before Viktor could respond Jayce leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss filled with laughter and warmth. Their smiles growing so wide it broke through the kiss, leaving them both simply basking in the joy of each other. “You are unyielding,” Viktor murmured again, amusement and affection weaving through his words like golden thread on a tailored lapel.

“You’re breathtaking.” Jayce replied with a grin, words light enough to be carried on petals and stems. The language of flowers had once been nothing more than a charming indulgence, fragile, fleeting and impractical. But now, Viktor understood. It wasn’t about the flowers themselves, or the meanings written beside their names in the margins of old books. It was about the hands that chose them, the care that carried them, the courage it took to offer them. The flowers would wilt, their petals falling away, but what they had carried—the weight of emotions, of affection, of love—that would remain. It would take root in the space they had created, growing into something more enduring that either of them could imagine. Viktor smiled as Jayce’s soft chuckle filled the room. Yes, he thought, sometimes even a practical heart could bloom.

[tiptoethewordsgo]

hello gravity falls tumblr, someone write a fanfic where the pines family have to break bill out of rehab to help defeat a greater evil and my life is yours

[cuz-reasons]

Summary: Ingo goes fishing with his dad.

Your reward for being patient through last week's hiatus is: fishing

[king-midas-fortnite]

Curse Time

There’s a harsh rumble that is felt through the ocean and along the deck of the ship before a bright light blinds you. When you open your eyes, you’re standing in front of an open window that is a few stories high, overlooking an ancient city you know no longer exists.

For just one hour, you can explore the place you used to call home when you ruled it as a King.

King Midas blinked several times through cloudy vision as the city came into view. Someone's voice from far away was just starting to grow more audible. They were saying his name, a woman. She sounded concerned.

"Midas! My love, what's wrong with you?"

His vision finally cleared. The woman was standing in front of him, a hand on his shoulder while her other palm was pressed to his forehead. She fretted over him while he could only focus on the long dark hair that sat tied up on her head, weaved into braids by strings of green ribbon. Her arms and fingers were decorated with gold bands, a white and green gown over her body with a gold clasp holding it together over her shoulder. Her skin was a lively tan, speckled with freckles, and her face...Kind, emerald green eyes with an intensity behind them that read to him as a wisdom beyond her years.

"Damodice..." The name of his queen slipped past his lips before he was fully aware he had remembered it. Seeing her face had dredged it up from the depth of his ancient mind.

She took both of his shoulders then, concern lacing every beautiful feature, "Midas, please. You're scaring me. You stopped speaking in the middle of your sentence. You've been standing here in silence--"

She was cut off as he pulled her into his arms, his face burying into her shoulder. His voice broke on barely a whisper, but there were no tears. His mind had not fully caught up, "Damodice, I'm so sorry."

She didn't say anything at first, wrapping cautious arms around him, too. Fingers carded in his long hair, she gently shushed as the King began trembling in her embrace, "It's alright. Tell me what's wrong, my darling."

Midas clamped his mouth shut. He hadn't a single idea what to tell her. She allowed him time to breathe, which he took gratefully. After a long moment, he straightened from her. Both of his hands, warm and unladen with gold, cupped her face. He smiled and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, whispering against her skin, "I'm sorry, I did not mean to scare you. Merely light-headed."

"You do not sleep enough." She replied.

Some things never change, "I know, my love."

Midas pressed another kiss to her forehead as he tried his best to take stock of how he got where he was. He'd been in the atrium of the yacht, talking with Valeria while Tina, Brutus and Marigold stood chatting on the stairs. They'd all felt a rumble beneath the ship, there was a flash, and he'd heard a voice. Undoubtedly another curse. This one had sent him two thousand years into his past. It had sent him Home. It told him how long he had. How long was it? How much time did he have to--

"Where is our daughter?" The question again left him before he was even conscious of asking it.

Damodice hummed, having relaxed into his arms with her head resting against his neck, "ζωή is supposed to be in lesson, but I'm sure she's found a way to escape. Probably sitting out in the garden."

ζωή. The name that only he and Damodice had called their little girl. It meant life. He had forgotten, and this broke his heart.

"I'm going to go see her." He spoke carefully, trying not to allow any of the desperation he felt into his voice.

Damodice nodded and took a step back to allow him to pass, "Are you sure you're alright, Midas?"

"Yes." He lied before kissing her once more.

His lips lingered against hers until she pulled back with a little laugh and playful push to his shoulder, "Okay, okay. Go see your sunshine."

Midas took a second to truly take in her features, committing each to a more recent memory that he hoped to carry back with him. He smiled as he turned from her with hurried steps over stone floors.

"I love you, my king!" His queen called to him.

He stopped to look over his shoulder, "I love you, Damodice."

--

Marigold was where his wife said she would be. She sat out in the garden, her small frame crouched down while she stared hard down at a butterfly that seemed unaware of her analyzing gaze.

Her hair was as dark as her mother's, free falling over her at a length almost as long as she was tall. The ends touched the grass where she knelt.

Midas had stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her. Immediately, there was a seize in his chest, an immovable lump in his throat. She was so, so small. And so alive. At six years old, he knew with tremendous anguish that she wouldn't be for much longer. There were not many days of her precious life left before he would take everything away from her.

Midas could not bring himself to speak. He had not laid eyes on her face outside of night terrors and disturbing dreams in two thousand years. He didn't know if he could take her eyes on him.

However, the decision was made for him when the butterfly took flight off the blades of grass and flit towards him. Marigold followed its path up and over her head, spinning around on her heels as large, golden eyes met with his.

His daughter’s eyes filled with joy as she ran to her father, while his own blurred with tears. He knelt down just as she reached him, crashing against his chest with small arms thrown around his neck, "Papa! That butterfly was blue, did you see? Like the sky!"

"I did, blue like the sky." He said, breathless as the air in his lungs started to feel like the sea. He hugged his daughter close, "My beautiful girl, my world..."

Midas began to sob in earnest, his knelt position falling to both knees while he held onto his child as if she were a lifeline. Marigold, confused and concerned, gripped the fabric of his gown with small fingers. Her tone came out so similar to her mother's, wiser than her few years, "What's wrong?"

Midas couldn't answer, once again at a loss as to what he'd even say. He simply cried while he held her. Minutes passed before she shifted in his arms, and he let her go. But she didn't leave, Marigold only took a step back enough to look him in the eyes. Hers were pricked with concerned tears of her own, but she reached forward with two small hands, and wiped her father's from his cheeks.

"Why are you crying?" She asked in a stern whisper.

"I..." Despite everything, Midas smiled, "I just missed you. So, so much."

"You're being silly," She said with a careful little giggle, "I just saw you this morning! Before lesson."

"Before lesson...I know, but," He took both of his daughter’s hands in his own, "There is just never enough time."

She hummed as if considering what he said.

Midas gave an airy chuckle, "Come here, my sunshine."

He brought her into his arms again. Marigold again wrapped hers securely around his neck and laughed as he easily lifted her up and stood from the ground.

--

He took his time walking through the open air halls, Marigold happily sitting up on his arm. Statues of different Gods stood between marble columns. As they passed each one, Midas would nod his head to them and ask, "Who's that one?"

His daughter answered enthusiastically, "Aphrodite! Artemis! Poseidon!"

As they passed a statue of Zeus, Midas kept up the game, but Marigold's face turned stern. She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly looking a lot like he imagined her mother did when scolding her for not going to lessons.

"You really don't know?" She asked.

Midas nearly laughed before struggling to hold his expression in mock-ignorance, "I must have forgotten. You know so much, can't you help me?"

"I suppose..." She narrowed her eyes at him in such a way that made holding back his laugh even harder. Then she sighed and papped her palm to his forehead, "But the King should know these things."

"Ah, but a king is blind without his sunshine." He said with a smile, bowing his head against her hand, "You are a most gracious princess."

That seemed to satisfy her need to discipline, and she smiled again, "That's Zeus. He's the leader. A king, like you!"

Midas laughed, and they continued on. He didn't care to spend any time thinking about how his impression of all these Gods would change over time. They weren't what was important. Though, the last statue was of Hades. He was depicted with a far more friendly appearance than he had come to know. Long robes like the one Midas wore now, rather than leather. No mask, laying bare a face that rested in a neutral sort of approachable.

Midas hadn't continued their game, stuck looking at the statue for a moment before Marigold papped his forehead once more, "Do you know that one?"

He exhaled a single laugh, "Yes. That's Hades, God of the underworld."

"Correct, you passed!" She exclaimed with both hands thrown above her head.

Midas smiled and brought her in to kiss her cheek. He was passively relieved that Dionysus hadn't been deemed important enough for his own statue in this hallway.

The two of them rounded a corner to enter the palace proper, and Damodice had been walking to meet them. Midas warmed at the sight of her while Marigold beamed and shouted, "Mama!! Papa forgot all the Godses names! But don't worry, I helped him remember."

"Is that so?" His queen laughed as they met, and she stepped to give Midas a kiss.

"Mhm!" Marigold nodded fast, "He said a King is blind without light."

"Without sunshine," He gently corrected, "Without you, princess."

"A princess can only help when she goes to lessons to learn." Damodice said, at first looking to Marigold with arms crossed, but then to Midas with an equally chastising look. He grinned at just how accurate his daughter's imitation had been.

Marigold groaned, "Papa, tell her how smart you said I am."

"The smartest in the kingdom." He answered with a smile to his daughter, but also a knowing nod to his wife, "But, your mother is right. You can only stay the smartest while constantly learning, ζωή."

A louder groan from Marigold, and she went limp in his arms. Midas laughed as he quickly had to adjust to make sure she didn't fall, "Ah, the drama! I'm not taking you back now, princess."

"You're not?" The two girls asked at the same time, one obviously more excited than the other. Midas looked between them before pulling Damodice to him with his free arm. He held both his queen and his princess in an affectionate embrace.

"I'm leveraging my authority to spend some time with my family." Midas whispered with his nose nestled into Damodice's hair. She smelled of the spices he remembered she'd carefully tended to. Her planters would be hung around the windows in their palace bedroom. Many memories of this place were coming back to him. He hoped to the Gods that he'd be allowed to carry them back when the Zero Point stole him again.

He heard Marigold giggle excitedly, bouncing in his arm while Damodice let out a resigned sigh. She wrapped an arm around the King's, smiling up at him in a sardonic sort of way, "I suppose that's fine. You really shouldn't make a habit of this abuse of power, you know."

"I know." He replied with a smile on his face so soft it seemed to strike his queen as unusual. She stared at him with a slight tilt to her head.

Damodice opened her mouth to speak when Marigold interjected with a tug to her father's ear, "Can we go back outside? I want to show Mama the blue butterfly."

Looking to her for approval, Damodice nodded with another smile. Midas turned and led the way back where they came. The weight of his daughter in an arm once again his own was something he knew would never fatigue him. He allowed the feeling of Damodice holding his other as they walked to soak through him. He knew they had little time, but he would do everything he could to enjoy being with them for as long as he could.

---

They'd gotten back to the garden, Marigold having demanded to be put down to find the butterfly. Midas and Damodice sat together on a stone bench to watch as she bounced through the grass like a cat after mice. There were several butterflies, but none the right color, and she moved on from them with dismissive huffs.

Midas' eyes were locked onto her. He’d have liked to keep her in his lap while his family sat together, but it was better this way. Watching her do what brought her joy for the first time in two millenia was a true gift.

Damodice's voice and her hand on his shoulder drew his gaze to her, "Midas, I apologize for repeating myself, but...Are you alright? You haven't seemed yourself this afternoon. Did something happen at your meeting this morning with the stratigos? Is there something I should know?"

Midas knew he could not let silence linger to fuel her worry. He turned to her and held her hand, bringing her knuckles up for a kiss, "No, my love. Everything's fine, I promise." He briefly paused, looking back out to Marigold. Internal conflict raged inside his mind.

He could not tell her. He wouldn't know where to start. Nothing he could say would make sense. She would only believe that he'd lost his mind and that her king was lost to her. As well, he did not know for certain that attempting to warn her and stop his horrific mistake wouldn't cause whatever it was that put him here to punish them in some way. However…what kind of monster was he to not try? How could he sit here and enjoy their company while doing nothing to prevent the atrocity he’d commit? How far into the pits of selfishness could one man descend to, to have the audacity to bask in the love of a life that he destroyed? This conflict made his body burn and his chest ache, though he did not show it on his face.

"I'm just tired, αγάπη μου." He smiled, a placid look to his features that she seemed satisfied with.

The two of them heard Marigold shout in high-pitched glee, both turning their eyes back to her. She bounded over with hands clasped in front of her, "Look, look! I got it!!"

They both leaned forward as she came to a stop in-front of them. Midas felt a devastating ripple through his body, a violent pulse in his mind and heart that he knew meant he'd be ripped from his family within moments. His queen and daughter were totally unaware as the little one opened her hands. A blue butterfly fluttered up from her palms, wings of broken crystals. The Rift Butterfly lifted itself in the air to fly clumsy circles around him. The two people he treasured most watched as it went, while he was stuck looking between the two of them. He was trying to memorize every detail as he felt the same fading in his mind as he had on the yacht.

They looked at the butterfly with an expected amount of amusement. It must have appeared normal to them, while the crackling sound of splintering reality filled the King’s ears. The seconds ticking by felt long, but not nearly long enough.

Damodice met his eyes, and concern came back, wiping away the calm Midas wished she could have kept for the rest of her life, "Midas?" She reached for him immediately with her hands on his arm while Marigold's touched at his knees. He picked his daughter up and pulled her up into his lap, once again using his free arm to draw his wife close. He held them both as tight as he could while he struggled to keep from trembling.

"I’m sorry, suddenly feeling lightheaded. I might lose focus again like I had an hour ago, Damodice." Midas spoke softly, knowing that if he raised above a whisper, his voice would crumble apart with the rest of him. His mind raced through everything he wished he could say to them. All the apologies he'd screamed at the feet of his daughter's golden corpse until his throat went raw. All the pleas that fell on the Gods' def ears. All the events he would give his life to prevent, but he had mere seconds left.

"I love you both so, so much. I’d give my soul for things to be different. I’m-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." He knew he'd lost his fight with composure, could feel his shoulders shaking with his breaths, and could do nothing about it. The King could just barely hear the voices of his wife and daughter, and felt small hands gripping his gown with warm palms on his cheeks, but he could no longer see them. Very quickly, other sensations faded, too, and everything went black.

-----

King Midas blinked several times through cloudy vision as the interior of the Marigold came into view. Someone's voice from far away was just starting to grow more audible. They were saying his name, a woman. She sounded concerned.

He turned his head up, and his vision finally cleared on Valeria's face leaned over him. Warmth registered over his cheek where she held his face, "Midas?! Oh thank God!"

She looked towards the staircase, hair sending embers down with the movement. They landed on him, but did not burn, "He's awake!"

Midas heard rushed footsteps coming from the stairs. He must have collapsed, Valeria catching him while the others rushed for water or some such thing. His head throbbed behind his eyes, and he had to shut them with a small grunt.

"Midas, κούκλα, are you okay?" Valeria was speaking softly, though with a frantic edge. One hand squeezed where she held his shoulder, the other smoothing over his cheek.

"I'm alright, αγάπη μου." Midas said with a placating smile. He moved to sit up, but the pain in his head flared, and with a hiss, he allowed himself to lean back into Valeria's hold in their lap.

Marigold knelt at his other side, "Definitely another curse of some kind."

"I am so fucking tired of these." Valeria gritted, nails pleasantly scratching over his scalp while she corrected his hair.

"As am I..." He pinched his brow against the pain, and finally sat up. When he opened his eyes again, Valeria was holding his crown out to him. When he took it to place it back on his head, he noticed a tremble in his hands. He ignored it as he stood with gentle help from the other two.

"What happened?" Marigold asked.

Midas looked at her and blinked, "I'm...not sure."

Valeria’s arm linked with his while she still made gentle adjustments. She tucked loose hair behind his ear, whispering so only he could hear, "You're crying, Midas."

The King brought his own hand to his cheek. There were indeed tears there. He wiped the moisture away, frustrated confusion running through him along with a profound, and impossibly heavy mournful sorrow. He had no idea why, "I had a dream, I think...I can't remember."

[mimzy630]

AI: THE SOMNIUM FILES -nirvanA Initiative- fanfic Half to Whole is brought to life in this adorable chibi commission by @papayaayaart!

Iris, Kizuna, and Amame go over Jin Furue's tweets... What's with their outfits, and what will they uncover!? Find out in Chapter (Bygone | Flimsy) Hope!

[wackywatchdotcom]

realizing just how LONG its been since ive posted a ragatha comic. i need to do that again its been too long despite the fact that i think most of my best work wrt tadc has been my ragatha stuff...

hey wait wtf i posted this and tumblr deleted like the last 12 tags. what the hell . that sucks. maybe i hit tag limit and it just didnt tell me or stop me from adding more tags...

[xxplastic-cubexx]

im not exaggerating when i say ive been staring at your newest twitter art for the past twenty minutes. i feel ill Why can i hear them

the thigh size difference, the codpiece, charles drooling and Shaking that man is Gone, mags' smug smile and uh. his uhm . Hes HUGE..... charles How do you take that thing and live to tell the tale... and mags' lil speech bubble, what filth could he be sayin..... much to think about, i think i hauve covid, THEY LOOK SO GOOD, apologies to your bro's sneakers but i for one am very happy with this outcome :3 as always thank you so much for your service 🫡🫡

thank you for the review on my doodles today!!!!! i looked deep into my soul and let it do the rest......

[journeyman-tier-fibercraft]

I realized I had forgotten to swatch for the button hole before starting the second sleeve. And an Hour later I have a swatch with 8 button holes before I got happy with how they look. The pattern basically says "make buttonhole" and I'm not experienced enough with garment knitting to go on just that.

I did manage to confirm that despite sizing up my yarn, I'm still going to need 1 inch/25mm buttons. I don't currently have 6 matching 25mm buttons that would look good with this yarn, so decisions have to be made. And unfortunately my brain has decided the best possible button would be a rose gold coloured shank back(?) button preferably that looks like an actual flower. Which, good luck to me for finding that relatively affordably.

I think I'm just going to knit the cardigan and decide once it's all sewn up. If it fits well and I think I'll wear it, I'll spend the money to get Nice buttons.

[crescentfool]

so you want to use OBS

hello! i’ve decided to compile information on my OBS setup and some resources that have helped me along the way.  this is mostly for personal reference, but maybe others can make use of this information!

some notes before i get into it:

i use OBS for both offline recording and (twitch) streaming. any footage i record is edited using DaVinci Resolve 18, which is free.

most of my OBS captures are of video games (through a USB capture card, specifically elgato), and the occasional screen/application capture (like clip studio paint, and sometimes PC games).

as such, the information here is reflective of these experiences. this post is not comprehensive to all of OBS’s features- this is just an overview of the settings and configurations that are most relevant to me.

with that out of the way, all the information will be under the cut!

Basic Setup

file format:

how to change: settings -> output -> recording -> recording format -> press “apply” once finished!

I save most of my recordings as .mkv files- it supports multi-track audio! i prefer .mkv over .mp4 because if your power goes out, you still have a recording to work with. 

.mkv files can be read by DaVinci Resolve without an issue- but for Adobe software, they'll need to be remuxed to .mp4 within OBS! (file -> remux recordings -> press the … to select a file -> press the “remux” button)

video resolution and framerate:

how to change: settings -> video -> output (scaled) resolution

my obs canvas is @ 1920 x 1080p (16:9)

i switch between 720p and 1080p as needed! if you're concerned about space, you can probably just go for 720p. i also record at 30 fps, simply because that’s what my capture card supports.

video bitrate:

how to change: settings -> output -> encoder settings (located in both the streaming and recording tab) -> press “apply” once finished!

bitrate is a bit of a doozy to explain, but the most important thing to know is that bitrate affects your video’s quality. lower numbers = lower quality, while higher numbers = higher quality. 

generally speaking, you'll want higher bitrate when you're recording things with high depth of information (e.g. you’d want a higher bitrate for something fast-paced like splatoon, compared to a slower-paced game like animal crossing).

my video bitrate is either set to 3000 or 4000 kbps! and here's some of my other (related) settings while i'm at it:

you can put your bitrate at much higher values than me if you're a stickler for quality- but keep in mind that a higher bitrate means:

bigger file size

more information to upload (when streaming)

your computer will need to encode more

i’d recommend reading twitch’s guidelines on encoding, bitrate, resolution, and framerate to get an idea of what values to pick. for people who are doing offline recording or streaming on a different platform, i suggest googling the appropriate resources!

multi-track audio:

this is mostly applicable to anyone looking to do video editing!

multi-track audio basically allows you to separate your audio sources (e.g. discord, game audio, and your own microphone) into different tracks. 

this is an immensely helpful tool because it lets you adjust audio levels in post-production (editing). some examples of how this can be used:

increasing someones microphone volume if they speak too softly

increasing/decreasing game audio

muting swear words/sensitive information

completely muting voice call + microphone if you want to upload a no commentary video

and more!

to set this up, take a look at your audio mixer panel, and press the ⚙ icon. this will bring up advanced audio properties.

by checkmarking a track box, it puts the audio on that track. to make the above screenshot easier to digest:

track 1 consists of ALL three audio sources- desktop, elgato, and microphone.

track 2 only has the microphone audio.

track 3 only has desktop audio (i use this for voice calls)

track 4 only has the elgato capture card audio (game audio). the volume has also been lowered so that any speaking voices can be heard clearly.

tracks 5 and 6 are unused.

you might be wondering, “why do all three of these have 1 checked off?” this is what i call the universal audio track. i recommend having a universal audio track for a few reasons:

when you stream from OBS onto twitch/youtube- you have to select ONE audio track.

it’s also a nice backup in case you didn’t separate your audio correctly.

if for whatever reason you need to move around your individual audio tracks in editing, the universal track acts as a nice reference point.

mark off your audio tracks for each audio source as you see fit! once you’re finished with the advanced audio properties, go to settings > output.

for the streaming tab, you’ll want to have the number of your universal audio track selected. in my case, that will be audio track 1.

for the recording tab, checkmark all the audio tracks that are applicable to you (in my case, audio tracks 1, 2, 3, and 4). by default, only audio track 1 is selected.

if you don’t check off the additional audio tracks in the output > recordings section, you will not have access to those audio tracks in editing, and you won’t be able to edit your audio tracks independently of each other. so don’t forget to do this! 👍

custom browser docks

custom browser docks are a great tool for when you’re streaming and want to have access to your twitch chat and/or activity feed! (or if you wanted to have some other web browser on OBS).

to create one, go to docks -> custom browser docks.

you’ll be given a table interface that asks you to put the dock name and URL. for streamers who want to have chat and alerts available, do the following:

on twitch’s homepage, go to the upper right and click your icon

then, click creator dashboard

once you’re on your dashboard, go to stream manager

click the vertical “...” on my chat OR activity feed.

press “pop-out chat” OR “pop-out activity feed”

copy and paste the link into the table back into OBS

press apply once you’re done

click and drag the docks around at your leisure to put them where you like!

if you ever decide you don’t want to have something on your OBS dock (or want to bring something back), go to the toolbar, click “docks,” and click the appropriate dock!

third party things

a section of optional things that you may enjoy having.

streamlabs alerts

this is basically for anyone who streams and wants to have their chat and/or follower notifications visualized on screen!

streamlab alerts can be added to OBS by adding a browser source into your scene, and the specifics can be customized on streamlabs itself. it’s pretty self-explanatory, so i’ll just leave a link to streamlabs website, where you can log in using the streaming platform of your choice: https://streamlabs.com/

discord overlay

this is a browser source that can be set up to show people who are in a server's voice chat and who speaks. i recommend this to people who make multiplayer content- it can help viewers distinguish who is who but also it can be helpful in editing.

to set this up, go to https://streamkit.discord.com/overlay, click “install for OBS,” and after logging in with discord, go to “voice widget” and click the server and voice channel you want.

you are able to apply CSS if you'd like more control over the visuals, but the standard layout tends to work fine for me! a search of “discord overlay css” on youtube can help you get more information.

veadotube mini

this is a pngtuber software that a friend recommended to me! no webcam is required- mouth opening and closing is based on your microphone input!

you can download it here (it’s pay what you want!): https://olmewe.itch.io/veadotube-mini

for a proper tutorial on how to use it, i recommend checking out the app's documentation, which you can read here: https://veado.tube/help/

source record

have you ever wanted to stream something with a chat overlay/layout, but wanted your recording to ONLY be the gameplay? or maybe you wanted to record BOTH your gameplay AND your webcam so that you can have a crisp zoom-in on your webcam!

source record is a third party plugin that can help you with that!

the general gist of source record involves applying the “source record” filter on either a scene or source, and customizing the encoding settings accordingly. the exact details of how to set it up is beyond the scope of this post, so I'll just direct people to this video instead (it was very helpful to me):

⚠ a quick note about source record: this plugin can be intense for your computer. be sure to do test recordings and the like to see what your computer can handle (and see if the recordings come out the way you like). it took me a few tests before i settled onto something i liked!

you can download and install source record here: https://obsproject.com/forum/resources/source-record.1285/

vdo.ninja

have you ever wanted to do a collaborative video or stream where you feature someone else’s video on your stream? or maybe you’re doing a multi-person streaming event! vdo.ninja is the perfect tool for you!

vdo.ninja turns your OBS virtual camera into a browser source link- which your collaborator can add on their stream! this is a new tool that i’ve added to my arsenal recently- since my friend and i are planning to stream a side order challenge together! i’ve still got to iron it out a bit more, but i like what i’ve used of it so far.

try it out for yourself at their website here (with documentation and demos available on the homepage!): https://vdo.ninja/ (no downloads required!)

ok! i’m set up! what now?

and with that, that’s all of the settings and tools that i thought would be worth mentioning! while most of my setup was written with video games in mind, some of these plugins and setups may be applicable to other types of videos (e.g. tabletop gaming with a physical camera)!

now that i’ve outlined all these settings, i have one more thing i have to say: regardless of what you're using OBS for, do a test recording before doing anything “official” with it. this recording can be as short as 30 seconds. it’s a good habit to develop that can make sure your streams/recordings turn out the way you want them to!

here are the kinds of things i like to check! it’s not an exhaustive list, but this can be a starting point:

video:

does my video look the way i want it to (and can my computer handle that)?

can my computer handle the load of encoding? - OBS will note in the bottom if the encoding is overloaded. if it can’t handle it, turn down your bitrate or adjust other encoding settings (e.g. i had to toggle psycho visual tuning OFF because it was causing lag)

this is especially the case if you're recording PC games- you don’t want to have slowdown on either your game or the recording!

audio:

are my audio sources (e.g. desktop audio and microphone) correct? - if you plug/unplug devices a lot, be sure to check this (settings -> audio).

are any of my audio sources muted? - make sure you don’t have anything on 🔇 if you don’t want it to be muted! otherwise the audio will be lost forever… (i lost my friend’s VC audio once… it was sad)

are my audio tracks separated properly? - requires you to boot up your editing software, but it's worth doing! for the test recording, just have something from all your sources playing at once, and see if your editor has things separated into tracks.

can i hear the voices clearly? or does the music and/or game overpower them?

if for whatever reason your OBS crashes, or you want more information on anything “critical” or “warning” worthy in your set-up, you can go to help > log files > upload current log file > analyze. crash logs currently can’t be analyzed by the log analyzer- but they’re a valuable tool when asking for help on the OBS forums!

and that’s all! for real, this time. i hope that some of these tools and settings can help anyone wanting to get more out of OBS. there’s definitely other things i didn’t touch upon (e.g. audio filters for noise compression, suppression, etc.), so i suggest doing your own research and trying things out!

happy recording/streaming, and thanks for reading! ✨

[torglives]

lukey confirmed that his keeper slash newt slash general lore is inspired by the maze runner and i genuinely felt a passion arise from within my heart that has been dormant for a couple years now. it hasn’t dominated by blog for a while so many may not know how deep this hyperfixation runs but you’re all about to be VERY aware.

[plusdanshii]

while of course i wish i had comic making skills, i also think that im not so bad at writing, and i enjoy it just as much. i hope that whatever i write is just as enjoyable to read as it is to have written it