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sylvesterelle · 2 months ago

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Meditations in an Emergency Part 1

Fem!Reader/Simon "Ghost" Riley/John "Soap" MacTavish

“Like it feels so good to get and give a compliment and we should normalize doing it more often. Strangers reaching out across the great abyss for a moment of connection,” you say, leaning back and gesturing broadly. “Ships passing in the night with naught but a toot-toot of mutual appreciation.”

“I don’t think that’s how the shipping industry works.” Or: How to live well and get railed through the power of compliments.

Part 1 of 3, 5,857 words, mature, cw: alcohol, cannabis

Read on AO3 I Read part two

"I am the least difficult of men. All I want is boundless love. "

Frank O'Hara, "Meditations in an Emergency"

"I am the least difficult of men. All I want is boundless love. "

Frank O'Hara, "Meditations in an Emergency"

“I just think people should compliment each other more, that’s all,” you declare, biting the cherry off the plastic sword that Kat, the bartender, had stuck in your Dirty Shirley. “Like we think these things all the time. Her scarf is pretty, or that guy’s got a cool haircut or whatever. We notice them, we think about them, but so rarely do we sayit, you know? Even though being complimented is the best,” you say emphatically, using the tiny sword to punctuate your words.

Kat nods and gives you a second cherry because Kat is good people. Kat serves you doubles while charging for singles and listens to you ramble and lets you spread your notebooks and laptop on the bar when it’s slow, like tonight.

It’s early on a Friday evening which means you’re supposed to be writing. You pay the bills as a ghostwriter during the week and you like it, you do. The flexibility to work strange hours late into the night, remote so you can write in coffee shops and cocktail bars and anywhere loud enough to drown out the more distracting of your thoughts.

The problem is you devote so much time to other people’s work that you’d promised to use weekends for your own ideas. Easier said than done, without an irate publisher setting deadlines and demanding pages. The other problem with your ideas is that you just have so many of them; find it hard to complete one without getting distracted by another, your hard-drive a graveyard of drafts in various states of decomposition.

But routine helped, so at the bar you’ve sat every Friday night for almost two months, even if you’ve spent proportionally less time writing than people-watching and sweet-talking Kat into making you interesting drinks off-menu (“This is a dive bar,” she’s told you more than once. “We don’t have a menu to be off of.”)

It’s not not part of your writing process, you reason. You’re a firm believer that life is stranger than fiction and many of your most delightful ideas have come from observations and surprising interactions—the very reason you’d been thinking about the importance of compliments.

“I just think we should be more intentional about finding joy in each other. For example, what would you say, darling Kat,” you begin, batting your eyes at her sweetly, “if I told you that you look fucking incredible now and always, you’re so hot it gives me hives if I look at you straight on, and more specifically that little curl that’s coming out of your ponytail is particularly fetching and I like it a lot?”

She rolls her eyes, which is as good as a smile for Kat. “I would say you should slow down on the Shirleys.”

You wouldn’t say the two of you were friends, not really, but there was a familiarity and ease in the relationship now that warmed you. You’d met her your very first night while on your usual ramble to learn a new place, strolling until you make sense of its curves and corners and spirit.

The neighborhood you’d found an apartment in wasn’t the best, but it was furnished and month-to-month and good enough for you. Best of all, you’d only needed to wander in the late fall snow a couple blocks before you’d struck gold: drawn like a moth where a plain, unmarked door had opened, spilling warm light and the sounds of overlapping laughter into the night.

Inside it really was a dive, all sticky floors and old dollar bills pinned to the ceiling, a jukebox that took dimes and a blonde bombshell behind the counter who served with a decided lack of smile. But a week of you showing up and chattering at her had cracked that icy shell enough to get a name and a few raised eyebrows instead of complete silence. By the time you’d earned your discount as a regular around the third week, she’d occasionally comment on your more interesting trains of thought, offer some piercing observations and insights of her own if she was in a good mood.

A couple more weeks, and you know her well enough to bring a second iced coffee when you breeze in for the evening, Kat pulling a bottle of Irish cream from the well as you pop off the lids in a dance thrilling in its routine.

Your coffee’s slowly melting beside you, abandoned in lieu of the syrupy-sweet mess Kat had waiting for you. She’s sipping the dregs of her own as she considers her verdict on your compliment, hip propped against the side of the bar.

“I don’t know if I’d particularly appreciate a stranger saying that to me. Don’t want strangers saying anything to me, really,” she frowns, “but particularly the bit about the hives.”

“Alright, I might have gone too hard out the gate with that one,” you admit. “But more importantly, I think you might be in the wrong profession for strangers not talking to you.”

She flips you the bird causally as she greets the two regulars slipping into place at the end of the bar. It’s early in the night and still mostly empty; only a few singles and two-tops stopping for an after-shift drink, giving you and Kat plenty of time to talk. It’d get rowdy enough later on—tthe voices louder, the jukebox queue a little more violent—but you’d found among the chaos was when you were at your best.

“Hives aside, you know what I mean though, right?” you continue when Kat returns. “Like it feels so good to get and give a compliment and we should normalize doing it more often. Strangers reaching out across the great abyss for a moment of connection,” you say, leaning back and gesturing broadly. “Ships passing in the night with naught but a toot-toot of mutual appreciation.”

“I don’t think that’s how the shipping industry works.”

You wave this aside, already mentally on sailboat somewhere sunny, tropical, salt-air in your face. “I always thought it’d be fun to be a sailor,” you say dreamily. “Kerouac was a Merchant Marine, did you know?"

Kat makes a face. It’s upsetting how prettily she pouts.

“What, you didn’t like the book?” You’d loaned her a copy of The Dharma Bums the week before, slim and beloved enough that you carried it with you instead of borrowing a copy from the local library, like you usually did. You kept a collection of those library cards rattling around in an old Altoid tin—the only souvenirs you kept from all the various cities you’d visited in your travels.

“It was fine. Good, even, if you’re into that sort of thing,” Kat offered, swirling her coffee around. “He’s just so fucking mopey. I wanted to shake him, like c’mon man, you need to stop thinking about your life and actually fucking live it,” she finishes, as animated she ever gets. Which, admittedly, is only slightly more expressive than usual: eyes narrowed minutely fuerther, three degrees more derision in her tone.

Kat prefers nonfiction. History. Facts. Still reads everything you recommend, but rarely finishes one without getting frustrated with protagonists making dumb decisions and whining about their life choices. And while some of the books she recommends to you are a little dry at times, they’re certainly illuminating—and the last one about organ harvesting was surprisingly catalytic for story ideas.

You shrug, acknowledging the point. She’s not wrong, but you live most of your life in your own words and your own worlds, so it doesn’t quite bother you in the same way. Although, now that she mentions it…

“You know, all of that is kind of to my earlier point. Giving someone a compliment is like the ultimate shortcut to living outside your head. You’re not all wrapped up in your own issues and thoughts, but appreciating the world and the people around you. Even if you don’t say it—which you should—it means you’re paying attention. Noticing.”

You drain the last of your Shirley, swapping it out for the coffee and swirling around the diluted ice. “Proposal: we make a game of it, tonight. We notice.” It wouldn’t be that different from what you and Kat normally did: share little observations about other patrons, trade theories on this person’s job or that person’s backstory. They’d just be a little more…intentional about it tonight.

"Keep your eye out for any interesting hats or weird pins or extremely sexy noses and come and tell me. That way we can both enjoy it,” you entreat her, clasping your hands together in anticipatory delight. You know better than to suggest Kat actually compliment anyone. You’re optimistic, not delusional.

“What constitutes an extremely sexy nose?” she asks, frowning at you beautifully.

“Oh Kat, some things can’t be taught,” you say pityingly.

She rolls her eyes and heads to the other end of the bar, greeting a nicely-dressed couple as they sink onto the cracked vinyl stools. Looking around like they might be feeling just a wee bit out of place. You catch one woman’s gaze and smile. “I love your dress,” you tell her, and feel the joy of her answering blush bubble sweet and bright in your veins.

��

You pride yourself on having excellent ideas, but this is easily one of your best. You get a tremendous amount of writing done, unusually productive riding the high of giving out compliments left and right. Not so many that it feels insincere and never any you don’t mean, but Baader–Meinhof is a real sonofabitch because it’s true that the more you look the more you see to appreciate.

Like Bobby, the union electrician who wears his name in blue, embroidered on the pocket of his work shirt. Not machine-stitched but hand-made, the careful stitches illuminated when he leans over to call out his order. His wife’s work, he shares when you ask. “Paid special for her work but still makes time to do all of my shirts. So I can carry her love around all day,” he tells you proudly, unabashed even when his friends rib him good-naturedly.

After Bobby comes the lady whose leopard print nails match her furry coat, the one who winks at you when she catches you looking admiringly from across the bar. Then there’s the burly biker who sits down to share a themed photoshoot of their toy poodle when you compliment the photo on their lockscreen. Others in between, some you speak to, some you don’t—but all you appreciate in a way you vow to do more in the future.

Inevitably, little pieces of what you observe trickle onto the page, fleshing out bits of characters and sparking ideas you jot down in bursts of inspiration. You won’t know until later if you’ll end up keeping any of it, but you like the thought that that you’ll always have some part of this moment—the people, the place, the time—woven into your writing. A little souvenir in-and-of-itself.

Though the night gets progressively busier, Kat swings by from time to time to share her observations: money fished from strange locations, custom bank cards, funny pins she spies when customers leaned close to shout their orders over the music—partially your fault, after you compliment an old geezer’s song choice and spend twenty minutes combing through the catalogue with him, cackling as you feed dime after dime and queue enough dad-rock to last a fair few hours.

All told, you’re feeling fucking incredible as synth solo from Toto’s “Rosanna” sends you wriggling in your seat. You’ve a few thousand words under your belt and the high off all those little moments of kinship is making you feel sparkling and happy and well, which, historically speaking, has sometimes been a challenge for you.

Not tonight, and you grin at Kat when she slumps next to you, enjoying a brief reprieve from new customers.

“Whatcha got for me, killer?” you ask her, fishing in your bag for a granola bar. She takes it with a grateful look, shoving half of it in her mouth and words mumbled as she chews.

“You’re gonna fucking love this. A mohawk, dude. In 2024.”

You perk up. It’s pretty packed now, but you can’t believe you missed a cut that attention-getting. “Liberty spikes?” you ask hopefully. You adored the punks of your acquaintance—always had interesting thoughts and insider tips on the local music scene.

Kat shakes her head. “Nah, it was short. Gym rat type, I think. Good tip, nice accent. Scottish,” she clarifies around the last of the granola bar. “Talked some shit about the ‘obvious superiority of whisky over bourbon’ as he ordered a Maker’s for his friend.”

You hum, craning your head. “See where they sat?”

She shakes her head. “Asked about smoking though, so probably on the patio.”

Calling it a patio was generous—a small bit of grass with a couple white lawn chairs and an ashtray, mostly. But there was a heat-lamp that worked roughly sixty percent of the time, which made the bar very popular with those in the know on cold nights like this.

“Speaking of, ‘bout time to take your break?”

If it wasn’t too busy Frank, the bouncer, would watch the bar while you and Kat split a joint in the back, sitting in companionable silence and pointing out shooting stars and passing satellites—clear skies a benefit of the city’s frigid nights. Kat knew a startling amount about astronomy but absolutely zilch about astrology; could tell you the history of the universe up to the surface of last scattering but only blinked when you’d asked if she was a Capricorn or a Scorpio.

Kat pushes her bangs off her sweaty forehead and checks the clock, then whistles to get Frank’s attention. You shove your laptop into your bag but don’t bother with a coat—your cheeks are flushed from the warmth of the crowd and you don’t mind the cold, not really.

The patio initially looks abandoned, silent but for the wet sound of car tires moving through the snow-choked alley. Not totally surprising; most balk at below-zero temps even with the lamp. Snow clumps heavy and wet on the plastic chairs and the overturned garbage pail that serves as a footrest but the sky is clear, a thousand tiny pinpricks visible in the heavens. You breathe in until the night air fills your lungs and you feel fresh and clean and cracked open wide, just pouring out love into the world.

Movement in your periphery catches your eye and oh, Kat was right, not a punk at all.

You’re not quite sure what to make of the two men standing half-shadowed near the lamp. Big is the first word that comes to mind and perhaps that’s sufficient for now, since you can’t seem to stop ogling the breadth of their shoulders and the curve of those mouthwatering thighs long enough to bother with anything else.

Kat had thought gym-rat but you’d put money on those muscles not being just for show—there’s too much strength, too much potential for carnage disguised in that plush softness that comes from power in repose.

“Why hullo there, barkeep,” the one with the shaggy, soft-looking mohawk greets Kat jovially, his accent just as charming as promised. “And barkeep’s friend,” he nods warmly to you as you come close enough to get a good look at his face. To latch on to details like the too-blue shade of his eyes and the too-sharp canines in his smile, the silvery-white starburst of a scar across his stubbled chin.

“Christ you’re pretty,” you hear yourself say. This happens sometimes, your mouth just venturing off on its own to get you into trouble.

Kat groans overlap with the man’s chuckle. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing,” he purrs, propping the lit cigarette between his lips and sticking out a hand. His palm is broad and callused against your own as you properly introduce Kat and yourself.

“I’m Soap, this here’s Ghost,” he offers in turn, nodding towards his friend who steps forward, murmurs a quiet greeting. He’s enough in the light now to reveal dark eyes shadowed under a hood, skeleton gloves and a matching skull-print balaclava pushed up far enough to accommodate a lit cigarette.

“Fuck me, that’s cool as shit,” you grin goofily at him, immediately charmed by the weirdness of it all.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” the man says affably, his voice a rumble deep in his chest. He doesn’t smile but there’s a little twist of his mouth that could be amused, if you squint.

“Jesus Christ,” Kat mutters, eyes shutting briefly in second-hand embarrassment. “She’s on a mission about compliments tonight, noticing people,” she tells them with bemused emphasis, turning to clear off the chairs and kick snow off the garbage can.

“I just think it’s important to be more open with our affection, even with strangers. Especially with strangers,” you argue, dropping into one of the seats and pulling out a battered Altoid tin that holds your stash and a few pre-rolled joints. “Will this bother you?” you ask the men, holding up one.

They shake their heads, amused.

“Good, because it’s my fucking bar,” Kat snorts, plucking it from your fingers and dropping into the chair next to you.

“What, you own this place?” you say, flabbergasted. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kat holds the joint in her mouth and cups a hand around her lighter flame, coaxing it to life despite the wind. She takes a deep drag, tilting her head up before releasing a thick cloud of smoke into the air.

It looks wicked cool right up until she folds in half, coughing desperately on the tail end of the exhale. You can’t fucking blame her; you’d bought it off your teenage neighbor, a science prodigy who claimed to have developed the perfect strain. Ivy League, he called it, since it had paid for his entire college fund.

Kat straightens up, red face feigning composure as she passes you the joint. “You never asked,” she finally says, voice a little strained.

And that was just…well, fair, actually.

“Huh,” you say brilliantly, struggling not to cough on your own exhale and bidding adieu to any dreams of looking cool in front of all the fucking fashion models around you. “You know, I did wonder when you’d get in trouble with your boss about the free drinks thing. And the drinking on the job thing. And the this on the job thing,” you say, frowning as you contemplate the joint.

You offer it up to the men and Soap takes it, your hands brushing long enough to send a little frisson through your blood.

“You’ve known each other long, then?” he asks, taking a puff. Turning a vibrant shade of red as he heroically—and futilely—tries to hold in a cough.

“Oh, we go way back,” you say very sincerely. “I helped her bury the body of her ex-husband years ago, a mafioso named Jimmy the Janitor because he cleaned up, if you know what I mean.”

“I met you two months ago. And I’m a lesbian,” Kat contradicts blandly.

“I didn’t know that, either!” you exclaim, smacking her in the shoulder. “What the fuck, dude, I would have tried flirting with you ages ago.”

“You’re not my type,” she says devastating, and Ghost snorts when you dramatically mime a dagger to the heart. The joint glows red between his full lips, crossed with scars that shine silvery in the moonlight and trail up beyond his mask. Exhales in one long, smooth breath and looks suitably smug about it, the fucker.

“I do seem to remember you saying something earlier about me being ‘so hot I give you hives.’” Kat reminds you. “You telling me that wasn’t flirting?”

“Nah, that’s just being neighborly,” you beam at her.

“I shudder to think what your flirting does look like.”

“That’s the appropriate response, honestly.”

Ghost barks out a laugh and you shoot him a cheeky wink before turning back to Kat. “Alright then killer, gimmie the goods. What is your type?” you prod, hooking your ankle around her own. “Is it a black cat, golden retriever thing? I can bark, babe, just say the word.”

Soap damn near chokes on his drink but Kat only sighs, more fond than exasperated. She takes the joint and leans in, bringing your faces only a few inches apart. You watch, riveted, as she brings it to her cherry-red lips and inhales deeply. Holds your gaze and leans ever so slightly closer, the moment stretching into eternity as she releases a slow, deliberate cloud of smoke directly into your face. You bring a hand to your mouth, think you might actually be drooling.

“MILFs,” she answers finally, devastatingly. She tucks the joint between your fingers before patting your hand and heading back inside—as good as a kiss on the mouth from anyone else.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus,” Soap's voice is rough as the door closes behind her.

“You’re telling me, pal,” you sink comically in your chair. “I think she broke me.” You’d already been drunk off the night’s joy but now you feel lightheaded with desire, literally dizzy with it.

This is not an uncommon response to Kat, you suppose. Nor, you expect, to the pretty lads that remain.

You summon your forces and sit back upright, kicking over the newly empty chair in offering. Ghost takes it, the plastic frame creaking under his bulk while Soap drops down on the garbage pail, resting his elbows on jean-clad knees. You pass around the rest of the joint in companionable silence, and it’s just…nice, all of it. The cold at your back and the heat of the lamp on your face, the fading alcohol buzz replaced by the sweeter, steadier high of the weed, always better at gentling your nerves and clearing your head. The easy camaraderie of smokers cast out into the cold, the same thing in almost every city and country you’d ever seen. You smile, thinking back on all those shared lighters and bummed cigarettes over the years. All those ships passing in the night.

“Gettin’ us a refill,” Soap finally says, standing up and snagging Ghost’s empty glass, hooking their pinkies together briefly in the action. You note it and immediately drop the thought, scalded. Know you will literally, actually combust if let your brain run-rabbit imagining the two of them together. All that muscle, all that strength, curved around each other, curved around you…

“What’ll it be, bonnie?” Soap’s warm voice snaps you out of your reverie and you flush, sure from his smirk that he can read the direction of your thoughts. You were legendarily bad at poker—couldn’t keep a neutral expression if they paid you to.

“Dealer’s choice, please and thank you,” you grin at him despite your embarrassment; turning down a free drink is against your moral code.

He gives you that shark-like smile and Ghost tsks as he heads inside. “You’ll probably regret that, birdie. Johnny’s got atrocious taste.”

“Aye can fucking hear you, you Manc twat,” Soap calls from the door, a little extra Scottish in his snark. Ghost chuckles lowly, stretching his feet out into your space.

“It’s Manchester then, our kid?” you tease, kicking your foot playfully against his boot. Leaving it there when he lets you. “Whose your fighter then, Liam or Noel?”

He considers for a moment. “Liam. I like his spunk.”

“‘A man with a fork in a world of soup,’” you quote, nodding approvingly. “I get that.”

You toy with the Altoids tin and debate lighting up another one.

Ghost fishes a pouch of rolling tobacco out of the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie and holds it up questioningly. “Clever boy,” you praise, and he leans forward to pass it to you, big hands dwarfing your own. When he settles back in his chair, he tangles his feet with yours properly and you feel a little flutter low in your belly.

You prep the blunt in a practiced motion, balancing the tin on your knees as you sprinkle the peaty tobacco overtop the flower evenly. “I’ve always been more of a Blur than Oasis fella, myself,” you finally offer to distract from the weight of his gaze. “Damon Alburn, the man you are,” you joke, putting a fervent hand to your heart.

“Oi, we talking about the Gorillaz then?” Soap calls out, juggling glasses as the door shuts behind him, muffling the chatter from inside. “Fucking choon after choon, them,” he declares, dropping back onto the pail.

He passes Ghost a rocks glass filled with an inch of amber that matches his own, his eyes tracking where your tongue runs across the filter paper, wetting it. He trades you the finished smoke for a glass with something alarminglyorange in it, a pink plastic sword stuck with three cherries laid across the top.

You sniff skeptically, all sweet and citrusy and strong. “This must be off-menu.”

“Dive bar innit, no menu to be off of,” Soap points out, and you smile at the familiar response.

You take a curious sip, looking up in surprise when you taste a bright splash of orange and vanilla across your tongue. “That’s fucking incredible,” you say, eyes wide. “What is it and why haven’t I been having it all night?”

Soap grins at you, looking suspiciously pleased with himself. “Had a feeling you were a lass that’d enjoy a slow, comfortable screw against the wall.”

Ghost groans, and you squint skeptically at Soap. “Who doesn’t, what’s that got to do with my drink?”

Soap laughs, delighted. “That’s the name of the drink, bonnie. A Slow Comfortable Screw Against The Wall,” he says with emphasis.

Ah. Well. That’s—oh, motherfucker. “Does Kat know that?” She’s probably laughing her ass off in there, the sadist.

“Oh, aye. She seemed amused. Though she made a fucking unnerving amount of eye contact while stabbing the wee cherries,” he says, eying the garnish. “Scariest fucking thing I’ve seen in a minute. Put me in mind of someone we know, actually,” he says, giving Ghost a wry look as he takes a sip and sets the glass down.

He pulls out his own lighter to coax the blunt to life, a battered Bic with SOAP scrawled in thick, Sharpied letters. He lets out a pleased sigh as the opaque smoke curls through the cold air, then leans forward to rest his elbows back on his knees.

“Now, as for why you weren’t getting it slow, comfortable, or otherwise before now, I couldn’t say,” he tells you, blue eyes glinting with mischief. “But I think I speak for both of us when I say we’re more than happy to provide for the rest of the night. Isn’t that right L.T.?”

“Right enough there, Johnny.” Ghost’s voice is closer to a growl, setting off a delightful curl of heat in your belly.

You nibble on your straw and pretend their attention isn’t going straight to your head, twice as good as the drink or the drugs. “You know what they say about variety and spice of life. Might get bored with just a screw against the wall. Got any thoughts on horizontal surfaces?” you tease, enjoying the way Ghost smirks around the blunt.

But oh, is that a dimple you suddenly see carving out of one scarred cheek? Before you’re even conscious of it you’re leaning in for a closer look, balancing with one hand on his thigh. “I adore your dimple,” you tell him sincerely, undoing any hope you had of appearing cool and hard-to-get. “It is very cute.” You give him a businesslike pat on the thigh and start to pull away, but he catches you gently before you get too far.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he purrs, petting over the soft skin of your wrist with an adoring thumb. “We’ll keep you entertained, don’t you worry. Bored is the last thing you’ll be, right Johnny?” Ghost say. He squeezes gently once before letting go, settling back with a satisfied smile. You try to play your delighted shiver off as one of chill, but you suspect your violent blush isn’t selling it.

“Oh, I fuckin’ swear to it, L.T.,” Soap answers, winking at Ghost before unfolding his big bulk from the garbage can. “We’ll give you what need, bonnie, promise. Starting with this.” Then his arm is around your waist and you’re in the fucking air and—

Oh, that’s not so bad, actually.

Soap sinks into the lawn chair and settles you across his lap, surrounding you with delicious warmth and a scent like whisky and salt air. Your brain goes a bit soft and cottony for a moment and you latch on to the gentle pressure of his arms. Manhandling has always been a shortcut to your most devastated self, the kind of stupid and sweet and sated that you’ve only found once or twice through chemistry or luck or sheer fucking determination, and it bodes very well for the night to come.

Besides, for all he wears only a bomber jacket, the Scotsman is radiating heat like a furnace and it’s the perfect sensory foil to the plummeting temperatures, a few clouds coming to fleck the sky.

“Saw you shiver. Couldn’t let our girl be cold now can I?” Soap says, chucking you under the chin like a kid. Should be stupid but you fucking like it, can’t help but smile up at him. Can’t remember the last time someone treated you so sweet, like you were something to protect. To indulge.

Ghost’s eyes are fond on the pair of you, reaching out to trap Soap’s feet the same way he had yours a few moments before. One of his hands reaches to splay possessively over your thigh, resting it there and turning your insides liquid.

There’s no reason it should be as easy as it is, getting all wrapped up in each other as the night stretches on and the clouds continue to gather, chatting quietly and smoking through the rest of the blunt and finishing your drinks just as the first fat, fluffy flakes of snow begin to fall.

You watch, delighted, as the storm kicks up in a sudden flurry; a magical, glimmering coat that turns the world into one whole thing. Untouched and perfect and silent except for the tides of your breath and the slight hum of the heat lamp, small sounds within a vast, quiet night.

You sigh in Soap’s arms, totally and unexpectedly content, luxuriating in the way your blood hums in anticipation of the night’s inevitable conclusion.

People asked if you got lonely, sometimes, travelling the way you did. Never staying anywhere for more than a few months, only occasionally breezing through past towns for a few loved-up reunions before the wind starts pressing at your back.

And though it’s true you’ve been seeking a place of your own, a place where you could belong, this, too, means something. To have these beautiful, fleeting moments of connection with once-strangers, to lose yourself completely in the headiness of such quick intimacies, no less passionate or kind or devastating for their brief duration. All those countless moments of connection—romantic, sexual, platonic—coalescing into a kind of soft sweetness to hold on to long after you’ve forgotten a name or had a face grow fuzzy with memory.

All of that sweetness is swirling inside you as you nudge Soap’s chin with your head, drawing his attention from where he’d been conversing softly with Ghost, one hand petting absently at your waist.

“Take me home?” you ask softly, and his eyes melt at the question, his hand coming up to thumb a little desperately at your mouth.

“Oh, the Cap’n would love that,” Ghost drawls. “Fall arse-over-tits over a sweet thing like you walking through the door.”

“My home,” you clarify, though you’re not opposed—especially if their friend (captain?) looks anything like them. “I live like four blocks that way,” you chuck a thumb vaguely over your shoulder.

“Well why didn’t you say so, bonnie’,” Soap says, standing up and dumping you on your feet. Before you can be too offended, he grabs your chin and presses his mouth against yours, searing hot and leaving you breathless when he pulls away too soon. You look up at him a little dazed and he pets his thumb across your chin, grinning. “Ghost is right. Too sweet for your own good, darlin’. T’wouldn’t be right for us to let you walk home alone, sweet thing like you. Not in a neighborhood like this.”

“Au contraire mon frère, I’m fast as shit,” you tell him, narrowing your eyes. This occasionally happened when you got crossfaded in particularly the right way, became possessed with the urge to tear off down a darkened street, drunk on the feeling of wind against your face and your heart hammering in your chest. Feeling like you could fucking fly. “No bad guy’s gonna catch me, no way.”

“That right, little rabbit?” Ghost moves as silent as his name, a sudden warmth at your back without you even noticing he’d left his chair. He curves that big body around you, nipping at the soft skin at your neck and caging you in against the firmness of Soap’s chest. “Gonna let us chase you?” he near growls.

The thought sends goosebumps rising along your arms. To be wanted, to be chased. To be caught. Ghost groans when you lean back against him, tipping your head back to nip at his jaw in return. “Home. Now,” he commands lowly, pulling down his mask.

You can’t help your shit-eating grin as you tug them through the door and the thinning crowd to collect your long-abandoned things from the bar.

Kat eyes the three of you suspiciously. “If I find come anywhere on that fucking patio I will have your balls in a bear trap,” she threatens.

“No promises,” you wink at her, laughing when she flips you the bird. You shrug on your coat and pick up your bag, which Ghost immediately appropriates, slinging it over one shoulder. He ignores your amused tug on the strap, looking over your head to plot the swiftest exit.

“Don’t wait up, babe!” you say, blowing a kiss to Kat as Ghost tows you and Soap toward the door.

“Call me if you need help burying the bodies,” Kat offers in response, and you cackle at the uncertain looks the late-night crowd shoots you both.

And then it’s just the three of you and the cold and the night, pressed together like you’re one body in the snow-crowned streets.

Read part two

#call of duty #ghoap #ghoap x reader #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley

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ckret2 · 5 months ago

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Hey, so you've mentioned that Bollford will eventually play a small part in the fic... and that got me wondering. What exactly are their sexualities? Bill isn't technically any human gender (I don't think? Like he just says he's male becuase its easier?) could human sexualities apply to him? And becuase of that... what would it make Ford? Obviously he only ever loved Bill becuase he's a monster fucker... but what now? Is he actually plansexual? What's your take?

This is Bill's own answer about his sexuality, from the reddit Bill Cipher AMA:

Because the original comment was removed, a lot of later readers assume that Bill is talking about what his own gender is; but the original comment actually asked what his orientation is.

Since Bill's reply says "my dimension has" rather than "had," and he talks like he COULD file his paperwork if he were so inclined, I'm assuming that by "my dimension" he means the Nightmare Realm, not Euclydia. (If I tell you something about "my town," I'm talking about the town I live in, not the hometown I left a decade ago. Why assume Bill does differently?) So he's talking about trying to figure out his orientation in a context of mingling with alien genders, not his orientation within the context of his home dimension.

From his answer, I can conclude three things:

His orientation isn't whatever was considered normal for his culture (example: straight in a heteronormative culture), because if he was attracted only to The Things He Was Expected To Be Attracted To and never attracted to The Things He Wasn't Expect To Be Attracted To, that would be pretty easy for him to recognize.

His orientation isn't ace/aro, because if he was attracted to NOTHING that would be really easy for him to recognize.

His orientation isn't pan, because if he was attracted to EVERYTHING that would be really easy for him to recognize.

So he knows for a fact that there's some genders he definitely feels attraction to and he knows for a fact that there's some genders he never feels attraction to, and they're not the genders considered "normal" in his species, meaning he can't just make a sweeping "yes" or "no" declaration about his attraction to as-yet-unknown genders.

That's as much as we know about his orientation and that's as deep as I care to take it. He knows some things he likes and he knows some things he doesn't like and sometimes he runs into something new and discovers whether he likes it.

As for Ford, I personally headcanon him as somewhere on the ace/aro spectrum—whether that's ace-ace and aro-aro or something a little more demi/gray depends on my mood, the weather, the stock market, and what house Mercury is in.

Is he a "monsterfucker" in the sense of "experiences sexual attraction to monsters" or the sense of "has a kink for monstrosity and is turned on by the excitement of (sexually) exploring something new and strange"? He couldn't tell you.

Has he ever fallen in love? He doesn't think so. Could he ever fall in love? Is he going to fall "in love"? Define "love". What's the dividing line between "emotionally wrapping yourself around someone who fills you with awe and excitement and the contentment of being understood and fantasizing about the wonders he'll show you and the ways he'll impact your life" and "love"? Define the dividing line between platonic friendship and queerplatonic friendship. Define the dividing line between romantic love and queerplatonic love. What's the precise difference between a crush and an obsession. What's the precise difference between a special interest and a romantic interest. If your answer involves criteria like "the desire to kiss" it's no good. Ford's made out with his special interests. He's spent fifty years trying to figure out how to kiss moths.

As far as he can tell he's like this

Ford's a busy man of science, he's got better things to do than search for his precise microlabel*. (*Ford doesn't know what microlabels are.)

This is how he sees it. Forget about the actions and rituals people assume automatically come with "love" and "attraction" and "desire" and "relationships" and "orientations." You don't need to know what your orientation is. For example you wouldn't need to know you like women in order to Like A Woman, your body would just make you like her. An orientation is just a label used to categorize your observations of your body's instincts. So focus on your instincts rather than your label.

You find somebody. You like them. They like you. You want to do things with them. Don't waste time trying to figure out if you're "in love" by comparing the things you want against a hypothetical list of things that somebody in love would want: just pay attention to what you want to do with them.

Kiss? Go to movies? Talk about interdimensional quantum mechanics for eight hours straight? Hold hands? Sleep together? Bring them to family reunions? Play board games? Live together and jointly make decisions about finances, careers, education? Live next door to each other so you can see each other every day without having to cooperate on so many parts of your lives? Get joint filing tax breaks? Entrust each other to make medical decisions if one of you is in a coma?

These are a few of many possibilities. Maybe you want some of them but not others. Maybe you want some things that aren't listed. Maybe you hate this entire list. Whatever. Doesn't matter. Just figure out the things you want to do with them. They figure out the things they want to do with you.

Maybe you don't know whether you're "in love". Maybe one of you is "in love" and the other one isn't. It's irrelevant! The only benefit to knowing whether you're in love is that it provides a template with a list of things you probably want to do (kiss; sex; marry; babies; whatever)—but wouldn't you prefer to do the things you WANT to do rather than do the things you think you SHOULD want based on how you THINK you feel? You just figured out what you want from the person you like all by yourself, so who NEEDS "love"! You have a list!

Now you two can compare lists! You decide which things you both want to do and which things you don't. You compromise. You reach a mutual agreement on a way to conduct your relationship that will make you both happy. You have made...

... a plan.

(In the fic, I plan to continue addressing Bill's orientation by having him crack jokes about paperwork and answer questions like "do you like boys or girls?" with "sometimes"; and this chapter is probably as deep as I'll get into directly addressing Ford's orientation: "I only know there's been too many aliens for me to be straight." With Bill currently in human form, Ford sees him as "Bill (triangle) stuck inside a human puppet" rather than as "Bill (human)," so how Ford feels about Bill has no relevance to how Ford feels about human genders and vice versa.)

#anonymous #ask #billford #bill cipher #grunkle ford #ford pines #meta #gravity falls #about my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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mothandpidgeon · 2 months ago

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Sing a Song of Sixpence (Joel Miller's Christmas Vacation)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

rating: G (fluff)

summary: Sarah requests a special trip over Christmas vacation. Joel does whatever it takes to make her wishes come true.

contents: fluff, 90s nostalgia, colonial america?

wc: 1.2k

a/n: Happy holidays to my Secret Santa, @whocaresstillthelouvre! Surprise but not really. Mallory, i knew we were going to be friends when you told me how much you love Colonial Williamsburg. I couldn't believe I found someone that overlapped in so many of my little niches. So when you told me that I was your secret Santa, I knew your fic was going to be about your favorite place. Thank you for being such a great friend, supporting me and my writing, and being my stoner buddy. I hope you enjoy your gift!

Thank you @schnarfer and @moonlitbirdie for giving this a once over! Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Sarah clutches her doll as she skips down the red brick sidewalk.

Joel hadn’t realized just how expensive a toy could be until he shelled out the $86 to buy it. Sarah had begged and begged before he gave in and got it for her. “Felicity Doll” had been on every wish list, the American Girl catalogue left open on the kitchen table for two whole years. Sarah read and re-read not only the Felicity series but Addy, Kiersten, and Samantha, too, the paperback books creased and dog eared. This was no passing fad, not a fleeting interest, and so Joel saved up and surprised her with an American Girl doll of her very own for her birthday.

She knew what was in the tall, rectangular box before she’d even unwrapped the damn thing, screeching and running around the living room in celebration. Sarah loved the doll, taking it everywhere with her, tucking it in bed beside her. Best money Joel had ever spent.

Except Felicity had a plethora of accessories and outfits, furniture and accouterments that all cost a handsome sum. More catalogues came, glossy pages with marker drawn circles around Felicity’s tea set and writing desk and pony. (“The doll has a pony?” “It’s in the books, Daddy!”) There were cookbooks and paper dolls and Sarah-sized colonial dresses that she desperately needed. It seemed that Joel was personally bankrolling the Pleasant Company.

And now he’d agreed to bring Sarah to Colonial Williamsburg. He really hadn’t had the heart to say no to her when she ask that they take a family trip there over winter break though he knew it would cost him an arm and a leg.

“Wouldn’t you rather go to Disney World?” Tommy asked.

Joel shot him a look. Disney would’ve cost three times as much but it wasn’t about the money. He was proud of his little girl for being a bookworm, choosing museums and butter churns over roller coasters and Minnie Mouse.

“It’s where Felicity’s from,” she insisted.

Sarah leads Joel by the hand down Duke of Gloucester Street. The quaint little houses are all decorated for the season– around each doorway is an evergreen garlands accented with fat, red bows. There’s a chill in the air. He hadn’t considered the weather in Virginia when he’d planned this vacation. Sarah doesn’t seem to notice, excitedly pointing out the carolers on the corner and the horse drawn carriage conveying tourists down the sandy street.

Sarah devours every little detail, listening with eyes like saucers as the interpreters dressed in old fashioned costumes drone on about milliners and beeswax candles.

Joel’s mind just keeps slipping back to the fact that he and Tommy aren’t working right now. A whole week with no income.That’s going to hurt when the credit card bill comes in.

”D’you think they ever sniped a redcoat with one of those?” Tommy asks on a tour of the Governor’s Palace, nodding towards one of the many guns hanging on the ceiling.

Sarah shushes him.

”Hey,”Joel whispers to his brother. “Remind me when we’re back at the motel, I’ve got to call and get those tiles ordered for the duplex project.”

”C’mon man. You’re thinking about work now?” Tommy complains.

”Can’t lose another day. Order it now, it’ll be waiting for us when we’re back,” Joel explains.

“Daddy! You’re not listening!” Sarah hisses.

“Sorry, babygirl,” he says, squeezing her hand in his.

He tries to pay attention, he really does. Joel’s never had much of a mind for history. Dates and places and stuffy old men. The buildings are interesting, at least. He amuses himself wondering what it would be like to build a house like they did in the olden days. A rough saw and a chisel and his bare hands. Like a pioneer on the homestead.

There’s a gift shop at the end of the tour. Of course. Joel lets out a sigh of resignation. Sarah knows better than to ask but she’s eyeing a tin whistle and a book about ghost sightings.

“Pick one,” Joel offers, hoping she goes for the book. The last thing he needs is Tommy’s yammering and the squeal of Yankee Doodle for the rest of the trip.

Her brown eyes move between the two souvenirs, lips twisted in thought.

“Shit. I’ll buy you both if your Dad’ll wear this,” Tommy says with a laugh. He’s holding up a little felt tricorn hat meant for elementary school kids.

”Really?” Sarah asks, all bright and giggling.

Joel glowers.

Dinner is a fifteen dollar hamburger at one of the historical taverns. Sarah’s doll gets its own seat at the table, a paper napkin tucked into the collar of its dress. Joel’s able to pawn the hat off on Sarah but not before Tommy got a photo on his disposable camera.

“That’s going on the fridge,” he chuckles.

As Joel pays the bill (noting the price of Tommy’s three beers), there’s a rumble of drums.

“What’s that?” Tommy asks, craning his neck towards the window.

“The militia’s coming through,” the waitress says, clearing the dish from Sarah’s ice cream sundae (the historical accuracy of which is questionable). “They’ll march in for the fireworks.”

“Fireworks!” Sarah gasps.

Joel sighs. He’s exhausted, out all day in the cold wrangling his brother and his daughter. His knees are aching and he’s ready to call it a day and go back to the motel. But Sarah is practically bouncing in her seat.

Joel bundles himself up once again and the trio join the crowd that lines the street. A fife and drum corps in their scarlet uniforms march past followed by an officer on horseback. The sun has long set and the air nips at Joel’s throat. He wishes he had a scarf, could probably pick one up in yet another gift shop but it would surely cost a small fortune. He hopes these fireworks will be over soon so he can put his feet up.

The little town looks quite festive in the night. Candles glow in every window and the street lamps cast a warm light over the tourists. A massive evergreen on the Palace Green twinkled with modern lights but it only adds to the atmosphere.

Without warning, the first firework shoots into the sky, its bang makes Tommy jump. It bursts into a shower of silver. The other spectators cheer and more fireworks follow— red and blue, green and gold.

Sarah’s gloved hand wraps around Joel’s. Her face is turned up to the sky, illuminated by the colorful fireworks. Her eyes round with wonder, sparkling pink and white from the cascade of sparks above.

She’s having the time of her life. And she deserves it. Sarah’s a good kid. Polite, studious, thoughtful. Joel’s always been proud of her though he has no idea how she turned out so sweet considering he and Tommy have been the ones that raised her. This is what it’s all for, he reminds himself. The hard work and long hours, the never ending stress of bills for things he can’t afford. It’s all for her.

She turns to find Joel watching her, his heart swollen in his chest.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she says. She squeezes his hand and pulls her doll close to her chest.

That thing was worth every penny.

Happy holidays to everyone! Special shout out to the tent pitchers and all of my moots but also to anyone that's read my fics this year. Thank you for your support.

#joel miller fic #joel miller #sarah miller #secret santa #holiday fic #tlou fic #fluff

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jello-library · 4 months ago

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hey so you’re the only person I can find who talked about Euclidean!reader and the original poster disappeared. Do you know anything else because the concept was soooo good but I js cannot find it anymore!

And Now There Just Two

Bill Cipher x Euclidean!GN!Reader

Aww! Thank you! This ask been sitting here for awhile and I do feel bad what happen to the original poster.

I hope I didn’t scare them off or anything 😭 But here some headcanons let me know if y’all want a part 2 out of this!

This brought a bit of comfort after everything that is going on. I hope everyone who’s been affected is safe and I wish everyone the best.💛

TW: Fluff, Angst. Toxic Relationships (Platonic and a bit romantic(?) you’ll see, Bill Cipher he’s a warning on his own. Cussing.

If they’re anything else please let me know so I can tag properly! Thank you!

GIVE IT UP FOR SEPARATION ANXIETY!

Yeah, from both sides but Bill is more secretive about it. He does not want you to be aware of him being vulnerable. But sometimes, he does come to search for you to merely sit in silence and exist.

It's comforting for him…

It doesn't matter how many times you ask why he does this he either avoids it or says that you're just thinking too deeply into it and you should be happy that he's giving you the time of day.

He's a very busy guy you know!

He can be turning someone's skin into sandpaper and their organs into rubber! But instead, he is with you. So be happy!

You two are the only ones left and Euclidea probably had their language. Most conversations are spoken in your mother tongue.

Lots of cultural aspects of Euclidea have been lost to time but there are some things you may still partake in. This is rare because it can get quite depressing for both of you. Bill won't recognize what you're doing at first but, when he does.

It's not pretty…

And we know how Bill copes with things so it's best if you give him some time alone. He will come back when ready and pretend that never happens.

I think anything that has to do with home is bittersweet to him and if this is under the notion that you are not aware of him being the reason that it is gone.

That is a whole new layer of issues to get into.

In this Au, I would like the idea of the reader discovering Ford before Bill and then becoming good friends with him. Promising him knowledge about the multiverses and different realms that exist. They have been alive just as long as Bill so they pick up a thing or two.

The reader and Ford's friendship is genuine. The reader gifts him many different types of moths to Ford, introducing them to anything earth-related.

Ford does well fall for the reader but they have no clue about it. They never allow themselves to experience a relationship or either too shy to enter one.

I mean, have you seen Bill's track record? That man is not a good partner at all! And if I wanted to add more salt to the wound.

Bill having feelings for the reader can be included in this but it would take him so long to want to pursue it because he associates the reader with Euclidea. He wants to leave that in the past but, we know he keeps his home close to his heart.

So when he's accepting his long-term feelings for the reader here's the reader and Ford slowly learning how to love themselves and each other—from late-night talks to the reader telling Ford what happened to their homeworld and why they want him to contact Stanly because you may never know when you're going to lose the people that you love.

And let's just say the reader was making good progress with Ford! Helping him interact with others and trying to get out of his comfort zone bit by bit.

Their relationship was sweet it was kind and gentle. Then Bill came in and ruined all of it.

The moment he did that it made the reader's perception of Bill change for the worst. The reader probably doesn't have a lot of friends outside of him and sticks close to him because of grief and familiarity. The reader most likely looks at Bill with rose-tinted glasses and tries to justify his actions in their head.

So when they meet Ford, they likely want to keep it private and separate from their other life.

So when Bill finds out about Ford and his intelligence, he swoops his right under the reader's nose with an excuse.

"ANY FRIEND OF YOURS IS A FRIEND OF MINE. PLUS I CAN'T HAVE SOME RANDO TAKE MY BEST FRIEND NOW, CAN'T I?"

This leads to them reader and Ford hanging out less and less to the point the reader feels like Ford forgot they exist. Ah, the angst and self-realization around this time for them was like watching a train wreck.

And we know how Bill and Ford's relationship turns out. Let's talk about the reader and fords around his paranoid era.

Ford probably thinks that they are with Bill and this whole taking over the world plan. So when the reader comes to check up on him after the whole O'Sadley incident.

The interaction that happened between them was heartbreaking. They got their answers on what happened between him and Bill and felt like it was their fault this even happening. The reader is desperate to try to fix it so they won't lose Ford but it is too late.

"I-I promise! I didn't mean for this to happen! Ford, please tell me what I need to do to fix this! To Fix us!" It's funny you were holding onto him as much as your little frame could. You gasp and whimper out promises hoping for some forgiveness. Ford can feel himself falter for a moment. He did miss you. He misses the moments you two had shared. He misses your laugh. You were so strange to him before, only to now become someone so comforting to him. Can he trust you again? No. No. No. No. No. No. No! Ford, are you stupid!? Trust them the same person who is friends with him! They probably plan this together! Get you to trust them again then the next thing you know the end of the world is here! And they made you look like an idiot in the process! Ford felt his jaw clench. Looking down at you hugging his chest, he thinks you look utterly ridiculous. You two must need him much if you resort to begging. Pathetic. "You know what I want you to do?" "Yes, please, anything!" You floated away looking at him with hope in your eye(s). Maybe the world not ending after all! "Get away from me and never come back.." and then, your world shatters.

When Bill found you after, you made hell look like a nice family vacation. You barely acknowledge him floating past him toward your room and gently shutting the door.

This type of pain was familiar to you. It felt like you lost your home and your family all over again.

What did you do wrong this time?

Did you not pay enough attention to him? Maybe you should've brought flowers or maybe you should held his hand more. He did like it when you two did that…

You felt like hours so many ifs, so many mistakes, so many should haves. Maybe it is best if you stay away from him. Maybe it was always the best if you stayed away from him. He can't get hurt if you weren't there to ruin his life anymore.

Yeah, that's what you did you ruined his life.

Bill tried cheering you up saying, that Fordsy hurt both of you and how you two should show him what is missing out. Like no one understood him as you two did. Then the camera pans over to the side to see the reader glaring at him like, "Are you serious?"

The urge to wrap their hands around Bill's non-existent neck was strong that day but, they surprised themselves by not doing it as soon as he entered the room.

When Ford fell through the portal and started his journey through the realms the moment the reader found out they were fast to start helping him behind the scenes. From secretly placed supplies to oddly convent weapons or aid whenever they saw he needed it.

When he found out, they bumped into each other in a random dimension. From their appearance alone he could tell they were going through some things. Bangs under their eye(s) and a hoodie that seems to fit their shapely body.

The colors on their body were so dim like life was suck of them. They floated close to the ground to appear smaller than they were. No direct eye contact either.

Ford can feel his finger twitch wanting to reach towards his laser gun. But with that look in their eye(s) he feels like he might not need it. But hey, it isn't bad to be safe right? "Look, I'm not here to cause any trouble. Just came to drop off this and I'll be on my way…" You snap your fingers and an oddly placed item fell in his hands. Wait this is.."How did you know I need this? And most importantly, aren't you supposed to be with Bill!?" He snarls. "One, it may not look like it but I have friends in weird places too you know, and Two no, we're not friends anymore. We never were friends.." He saw how your body color changed to red and your eye(s) seemed to try and imitate a frown. "He lied to me…He lied to me this whole time and I…I just..!" Breath In and Out Breath In…. And Breath Out… You relax the feeling in your hands and sigh. "I'm sorry. I didn't want you seeing me this way or at all, to be honest.." You made more space between you and Ford seeing him tense at your sudden outburst. By the stars! You already messed this up aren't you reader… "I know you have no reason to trust me and I get that! But we now have the same common enemy and I feel like we should work together.." Ford blink and you then blink again. Are you joking with him right now? "No." "Come on just listen to me-" "You think I'm going to listen to you after everything that happened? What do you want me to make a deal with you too so you can use my body as a puppet in your stage play?!" "No! For Fucks sake look at what he did to me!" With that said the hoodie disappears and reveals cracks. He can see them up and down your 'chest'. It reminds him of a cracked windshield one small tap and you just shatter right there. "You think after this and all the other shit he put me through that it was still sunshine and rainbows between us! I'll give you a award for being my wake-up call, Ford. He never cared about me and now I have the proof to show it." Ford saw how you tried to quickly collect yourself again. Hugging your form and rubbing your arms. Another deep breath in…and another one out. "Now how about I say this again? Since I have your attention now. Do you want to work together to kill Bill?"

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kaiyax1 · 18 days ago

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random gravity falls head cannons (THESE ARE MINE AND YOU DONT HAVE TO AGREE!! I RESPECT YOU IF YOU DISAGREE SO PLEASE RESPECT ME!) most are ford and Stan and fiddleford

Stan:

he’s actually great at math maybe even better then his brother

He had a pet snake as a kid who he lost and never saw again

The only one of his parents grave he still visits is his mom

He never finished school

One time when Stan was younger he got a bunch of temporary tattoos and pretended they were permanent

He doesn’t know what his sexuality is and doesn’t care

Ford:

Autism.

Mabel gave him a six fingered kitten once and he loves it so much

His right eye is a little red from it bleeding

ideal date is going anomaly hunting or if he can’t for some reason do that then going to the aquarium.

if you ask him one question about moths he will ramble for hours

part of him misses bill but he’s learned to push it away due to knowing how bad the relationship was

follow up the last one, he’ll sometimes visit bills statue and talk to bill about things like anomalies he’s discovered.

Mabel tried to set him up on a date once not knowing he was gay and asexual until he told her and she put him with mcgucket

fiddleford:

Married Emma may due to pressure from his family as well as had tate due to pressure

love language is giving things to people (especially ford)

After he realized he was bi he had internalized homophobia due to how he was raised

fiddauthor:

They definitely did it in college, even though ford’s asexual he was still curious about it. (Asexual people can have sex too we just tend to not enjoy as much)

fiddleford and ford got drunk and high in college and ford has a very low alcohol tolerance

they dated in college but broke up due to fiddleford being pressured to marry a women and then they got back together after weirdmageddon

ford will ramble about things that interest him to fiddleford for hours and fiddleford will just listen and ask questions

one of them may or may not be planning on proposing but they’re to nervous

#gravity falls #ford pines #stanford pines #bill cipher gravity falls #bill cipher #billford #fiddauthor #stanley pines #gravity falls headcanons #fiddleford hadron mcgucket

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mc-lukanette · 4 months ago

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Ladybug massaged her temples. She'd really, honestly tried to be sympathetic to Chat Noir, knowing how much love utterly sucked and how rough it could be when one's plans didn't go well.

But in the middle of an akuma battle? Because she didn't come after telling him that she already had plans? Prioritizing his own hurt feelings when people were literally melting after being turned into ice cream?

She couldn't do it, not now. She wasn't going to lose both of their miraculouses because Chat couldn't wait a few minutes to argue with her.

As Chat turned to go fight without a plan, she reached out and snatched his baton off of him. He halted, staggering and nearly falling off the roof in the process, then glared at her.

"What are you doing?!"

"Making a backup plan, because I'm the only one who can stop the akuma and you seem to want to cool off by becoming dessert," she stated. Pointing downwards, she instructed, "Stay safe. If we can't work together, I'll find someone else to help me."

She didn't wait for a reply, making a quick escape before his shouting drew even more attention to them. She ducked into alleys to keep herself hidden from Glaciator, only getting up on rooftops when there was no other way of getting around.

Despite the confidence she'd tried to show Chat, she knew deep down that it would be difficult to find someone who would fit the bill. She needed someone who could not only be convincing, but who she could be convincing with. She'd be a liar if she said she was in any way a good actor, so having to fake a romance with someone she wouldn't be comfortable with would definitely tip off Hawk Moth.

That left out strangers and, ironically, Adrien, with a sarcastic voice in her head commenting that he wouldn't be available even if she could ask him. She reigned in the voice with a shake of her head, feeling it was petty of her when it wasn't like it was his fault.

It wasn't like he planned on not coming, or knew he wouldn't be able to go and had been up to something else. That would've deserved the criticism.

Her thoughts bounced around in her head, running through all of the people she knew. Some were blatantly off-limits, like those who were already dating someone, and she had to keep in mind that they would have to be willing to practically throw themselves in front of an akuma alongside her. That narrowed her options even further, as some she couldn't be sure would put up with the danger.

She summarized everything in her head: someone she could feel comfortable around, who was unattached, who could handle the danger, who could act as needed, and who she wouldn't feel squeamish about being romantic with. Names and faces rushed through her memories like she'd pulled a crank on a slot machine, disappearing as she mentally disqualified them.

Until finally, there was only one left and she'd hit a jackpot of red 7s; or, in this case, black and blue 7s.

Turning on a dime, Ladybug took out her yoyo so its GPS could guide her, changing course now that she had a destination.

—————

It was strange landing on the Liberty without hearing any music. She tried to shake off the feeling, just hoping no one was asleep as she looked around, wandering from the front of the houseboat and into the little greenhouse area to check the seating there.

Still spotting no one, she headed further towards the back to peek into the cabin. Even if she saw Anarka instead, Anarka might've at least known where her temporary partner went, provided she would be willing to share after knowing the reason she was looking.

Because Luka would be perfect as her partner. He was brave enough to make himself bait for Captain Hardrock, acted well enough so that Captain Hardrock truly thought that he'd seen her escape out the window, and she was comfortable around him despite the attraction she had. It was a no brainer, really.

As if her thoughts had personally summoned him, a voice called from below, "Ladybug?"

She backed away from the cabin, peering down the stairway leading into the lounge room. Her face brightened in recognition and she exclaimed, "Just the person I was looking for! Luka—ah, Couffaine!"

She added the last name in a hurry, remembering that she was in hero form and not wanting to come off as too informal.

"I heard something up on the deck and came to look. I never thought it'd be you," he said, hurrying up the stairs to stand in front of her. "Why were you looking for me?"

"There's an akuma," she explained, the earlier cheer in her voice gone to express the severity of the situation. "He's after Marinette, and she told me to come find you if I needed help."

His face remained carefully neutral, but his cheeks were faintly flushed. "Marinette said that?"

Technically, it wasn't a lie. Marinette did tell Ladybug to go find Luka, just... in her head, since they shared the same head.

"Wait. Is she alright?" Luka pressed further, taking a step closer to her.

Ladybug had to suppress a smile, as well as the bubbly feelings in her stomach at knowing he was so worried about her. "She's fine for now. I helped her hide and Glaciator doesn't know where she is. All I need now is you to help keep the akuma from attacking me."

"You need a distraction?" He frowned worriedly. "Did something happen to Chat Noir?"

She made a face, nose scrunched as all of the unpleasant memories came back. There went the mood. "He's not being a team player, let's leave it at that."

Luka didn't ask for further detail, unintentionally proving to her that he was the right choice, and nodded along. "What do I have to do?"

"That..."

She hesitated, knowing that this was the only potential roadblock to all of this. She didn't have a backup plan for her backup plan, so if Luka didn't agree then she'd be stuck. The only way to know was to ask.

Taking a deep breath, she laid it all out to him, "Glaciator's power lets him turn anyone he hits into ice cream, even someone like me. His only rule is that he won't shoot couples, which is where you come in. I need you..." She swallowed, blushing but pushing on. "I need you to be my fake boyfriend and pretend like we're in love while I think through setting up a trap for him."

It sounded like something out of a cliche and she would rather not get into the logistics of how awful it was that she had to do something like that in the first place. She'd already had to kiss Chat Noir during an akuma fight even though she didn't want to and had reluctantly accepted that it was part of the job, albeit a gross one.

At least it would be with Luka this time, though he needed to accept first. He hummed, rubbing his chin in thought as he looked away from her, seeming conflicted.

"You won't be in danger. Hawk Moth won't go after you when it's all over," she tried to assure. "I'll make sure he knows before I purify the akuma that it was just a trick."

He shook his head. "Sorry. It's not that. I'm not dating anyone, but I do have someone I like."

"Oh." She didn't expect that, wondering who it could be whilst ignoring the tight feeling in her chest. "They must be something special."

"She is." He beamed, eyes growing soft at the mere thought of her. It felt oddly familiar somehow. "But I'll do this for Marinette, since she's in danger."

There was still something not quite right in his tone, but she knew he meant it and also that they was a she (even if it had nothing to do with the akuma). She placed a hand to her chest and sighed in relief, glad that this wasn't going to be too difficult. "Thanks. Now, let's—"

"Wait," he interrupted, raising a hand to signal for her to stop. "How much are you comfortable with?"

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

He squinted in concern. "I heard about the interview on Face-to-Face. A lot of Paris wants you and Chat Noir to be together, so he might not be fooled by us holding hands or hugging each other."

Oh, that... that was sweet? She hadn't given a thought to it beyond his own boundaries, but he cared about hers despite her status as a hero. After her interview with Nadja, it was true that she'd given up on some level that Paris might see her as anything close to a real person.

"I... thank you," she said, though it was a thanks from the heart rather than the professional one prior to it, "but I'll be okay. I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

He nodded in agreement. "Me too."

"Good!" She smiled, pulling him to her side and taking out her yoyo. "We can talk about a plan on our way there!"

—————

They'd agreed to wait in an alley that Glaciator would soon come across on his pathway through Paris, since he'd be caught off guard for a few seconds when he spotted them. She would stick with the reality that her and Chat had a fight, but from there she would act like she left to find Luka to "destress," as "Luka always worried about her when she fought akuma whilst upset."

She knew it wasn't real, but it sounded nice in a way. In another universe where she didn't have to keep her identity a secret to those close to her, could things be different? Would she be able to have a boyfriend she could go to who would congratulate her on her victories? Would he fret over her and be upset that it was Chat Noir helping her instead of him? Would he hold her after particularly tough battles, and even after easy ones—

Focus.

"We should practice while we wait," she suggested, putting her air of professionalism back on, "to make sure we'll be convincing. How good is your imagination?"

"What?" The question caught him off guard.

"I want this to be enjoyable for you, and it'd help the act." She waved a hand at herself, instructing, "Just picture her, and do to me what you'd do to her if you were dating."

He gave her a once-over, mulling over the request. He rubbed the area along his shoulder where his guitar strap usually was, then closed his eyes, possibly getting into the right mindset to imagine this mystery person girl in front of him at that moment. She could also swear she heard him humming a familiar tune as he tapped a melody against his thigh.

When he opened his eyes again, the soft half-lidded look had returned. She shuddered, knowing now that the look was directed at "her," and unconsciously held her breath as he took a step towards her.

His fingertips touched her shoulder, slowly trailing down to her forearm and then her hand. He raised it to his face and, rather than the cheesy peck on the back that Chat had always given her, he flipped it around to place a slow, steady kiss against her wrist.

She let out the breath in a single exhale, blushing. Already, the atmosphere felt far different than what she was used to. She knew that Luka didn't mess around when it came to feelings, and these feelings were clearly very genuine.

"She's so creative," he whispered, kissing the back of her curled fingers as well. "My sister's told me so many stories about her. She's extraordinary."

So he was getting into the mood by gushing about his crush. She almost felt like she was intruding, having more information than he thought she did, but she let him keep going, unable to tell him that.

Then, remembering that she should be just as involved as him, she raised her free hand to his face, starting at his temple and slowly working down towards his chin. He didn't have the look of a model, even if he dyed his hair and dressed up, but he was handsome in his own way, so she took her time feeling along his cheekbones.

Luka leaned against her touch, nuzzling into her palm with a sigh. With his head turned, she could free the hand he'd been holding and touch his earlobe, feeling the black earring he was wearing with her thumb.

"We match," she teased lightly.

His smile widened. "She matches me too. She has black earrings."

Black earrings. Despite the mixed feelings that he appeared to already like someone, she couldn't help being curious. Did she know someone that Juleka knew who wore black earrings?

She was startled out of her thoughts at the faint sound of loud, squishy footsteps and a sing-song voice off in the distance. She had rightly predicted Glaciator's path and he was approaching, so he'd be there at any moment.

Luka's eyes flicked out of the alley, then back to Ladybug. Gently taking both of her forearms in his hands, he circled her so his back was facing the nearest wall. He slowly sat himself down, bringing Ladybug with him as he pressed himself against the wall. She caught on quickly, climbing onto his lap and making herself comfortable.

She was rewarded with a kiss against her lower jaw, causing her to gasp. "You...you really like this girl."

"You should know, since you met her again today," he countered, encircling her with his arms to bring her in.

Her mind grew briefly fuzzy when he kissed her cheek, but it cleared as his words registered with her. "W-wait, you mean... m—Marinette?"

He nodded, beaming shamelessly like he hadn't dropped a bomb on her. She was just glad she was sitting in his lap, her legs feeling vaguely like jelly all of a sudden.

So all the things he said, the soft eyes that had felt so familiar, and all of the affection on offer had been for her. She knew she had her own spark of affection for him, but she felt like she was always looking like a fool in front of him, thus making it all one-sided.

Yet, it was mutual, and the unspoken conflict he'd been facing earlier suddenly made sense. He'd been torn when he heard that Marinette had "told" Ladybug to find him because that meant she was okay with him potentially kissing someone else.

She giggled. If only he knew, and if only she had known it could be so simple.

"Luka," she began, putting her hands on his shoulders and pushing herself up enough to kiss his forehead, "Did you ever think that Marinette recommended you because she thought it was one-sided too?"

"Ah—mm." Whatever he was going to say stalled as she kissed his temple as well.

She continued without waiting for an answer, "Y-you know what she told me when I told her the situation? That you were the perfect boyfriend material; that you were brave, capable, and sweet when she needed it most."

The alley was dark, but she could make out the way his cheeks pinkened. She wanted to see that through Marinette's eyes one day, not Ladybug's.

"I think you should ask her out," she added.

"I..." He hesitated, his arms around her loosening. "I wouldn't want to pressure her."

She almost laughed, thinking back to how badly she would've wished for someone like him when she was still struggling to make friends, and even now. "Take it from me, I know these things..."

The footsteps were growing louder and she heard the sound of boots against rooftops. Recalling the baton at her lower back, she glanced across the street and up, seeing that Chat Noir was stealthfully keeping up with Glaciator. She had no idea what was going on in his head, whether he was skeptical if she'd make due on her word or was simply waiting for her to come back, but their eyes met.

Pretending not to have noticed him, she took Luka's chin using the hand furthest from where Chat was. Her other cradled Luka's cheek, carefully hiding the sight of his lips from anyone else behind her wrist.

"If it's you asking, and this is what you have planned for her," she began, leaning towards him, "then she'll definitely say 'yes.'"

She sealed the promise with a kiss purposefully to the side of his mouth, though to anyone watching from where she knew they would, it would look like the real deal. Luka's breath caught as his embrace tightened back up, and she knew he was strongly considering the suggestion.

He better, anyway, as she wanted to give him the real deal as Marinette.

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukabug #episode: Glaciator #type: salt

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werecreature-addicted · 6 months ago

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I WANT A HALLMARK HALLOWEEN MOVIE. Put in the same energy as they do in their Christmas ones.

Like I know they did do Halloween movies a couple years ago but it’s not what the people want.

Those are like almond mom Christian movies that take the fun out of the spooky month.

I want coco to be replaced by pumpkin spice. Snow replaced by fallen leaves.

Girl moving into a small town and somehow finds herself at the widowed lumberjacks barn who turns out to be Frankensteins monster or moth-man.

I don’t want a Christmas prince! I want a Halloween prince. Where we get married on Halloween and by some lazy writing our baby is born on Halloween!

Decorating the Christmas tree with the town bad boy? I want to carve pumpkins with the loner werewolf.

I want that corny romance stuff. With a sprinkle of Halloween spirit of spooky miracle. Idfk.

I doesn’t even have to be hallmark that does it. There are tons of other small studios that make those kinds of movies. I just Halloween girlies to feel special.

busy businesswoman from New York City is back home for her small hometown's annual Halloween Festival/ Parade/ Celebration. She thinks Halloween is corny and for kids but also her birthday is October 31st- a fact she tries to keep secret from the rest of the town although her family eventually lets it slip.

she has a meet ugly where the town handyman jump scares her with a plastic skeleton Halloween decoration and she trips back and falls into a puddle of mud ruining her busy business suit! the man isn't a bad guy though and he gives her a change of clothes and hey- she actually looks better dressed down out of that stuffy suit.

She's still pissed though and is in the middle of threatening him with the dry cleaning bill when her Execntic Uncle/ grandpa/ town old man walks in and officially introduces the two. Definitely not a werewolfman, who's been doing all this work setting up the town Halloween festival and Female Lead Back from the big city for the holiday and for some convoluted business reason too. even though they might not like each other now they have to at least be polite for the sake of this weird random old man they both know.

It becomes clear that Definitely Not a werewolfman is too kind for his own good and keeps trying to make everyone happy by promising impossible things at the Halloween festival and puts off planning and arranging things to play with kids and drink warm apple cider with old ladies so Female Lead has to step in with her busy business skills and get things in order, things start to fall into place and hey- they make a pretty good team. and even if Werewolfman isn't as serious as her new york boys...maybe that's a good thing.

They spend the night eating pumpkin spice cookies and drinking hot chocolate while making paper bat banners for a parade float and share a kiss. things are going great until oh no!! it turns out he's a werewolf and transforms in front of her.

she is inraged he never told her this huge secret over the week that they've known each other. She doesn't care that he's a werewolf- she cares that he lied to her and the town. Then she gets a call from Business Inc. back in New York. they need her back in town TOMORROW but- tomorrow is Halloween. what will she do? will she choose the town that accepted her and the Halloween festival she worked so hard on? or job?

Werewolf man sets off the festival and it's a huge hit but the whole time he's looking for Female Lead but can't find her...she must have gone back to NEEEEEW york... but then someone jumps out at him with a plastic skeleton it's Female Lead!! she staid after all and has been at the party in a Halloween costume. something she swore she'd never wear. he apologizes for hiding the fact he's a werewolf from someone he's known for less than a month. she says she's quit her job and is staying in town with him. they kiss and say i love you. then he pulls her away from the party to make a wish on a small cupcake with a candle on it- it is her birthday after all.

The cammera pans out to a shot of the old man from before who winks at the camera. he was the spirit of Halloween magic all along (sorry there's no Halloween equivalent of Santa)

#asks

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suzieloveships · 6 months ago

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Obsess with the fact that the closest thing Monsterverse has to a main M/F is a ship between two titans. Pretty much all of "main" human x human ships in this series are gay. Mike and Charlie from Skull island? M/M. May and Cate? F/F. Keiko Bill and Lee? F/M/M. Like sure, there are M/F couples, two scientists in Kong, the couple from Godzilla 2014 (but we don't talk about that one), but they are def not a main focus. GxK has two people that use to dated, but broke up bc it wasn't working out, casually working together, no big deal, they are just friends now and it is legit so refreshing. The closest that movie has to a romantic scene is a lizard and moth hearteyeing each other, I fucking love it. Your favorite franchise could never

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mossy-chaos · 7 months ago

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These are all of the codes I could find in the Book of Bill!

The order is decoded message-page-type of cipher

Spoilers under the cut (for those of you who decode yourselves):

Black and white-back of the cover jacket-authors cipher

Even his lies are lies-inside the front cover-theraprism cipher

Praise the fallen angle-first actual page-Cipheric (this is the only time Cipheric is used for some reason)

Olaf was here-same-rune (not sure what this is a reference to)

Remember us-same-Bill's cipher

Let him in and break the seal between what's fiction and what's real-books new master-Bill's cipher

The Axolotl thinks he's won but Ciphers games have just begun-handprint page-color cipher

Irregular-fake covers(very top)-color cipher

The one who writes the codes-about me-Caeser cipher

Glotto/slotheny-Magazine cover(7 new sins)-Bill's cipher (I love the new sins lol)

Not a phase-Stanford pines here(on the goth moth)-Authors cipher-love the jack skellington reference (if thats what that is lol)

Warning/Folding this card may/result in crossovers-the universe is a hollogram-rune (Maybe that's how we finally get an owl house/gravity falls crossover)

My optometrist never saw it coming-What is a human-Theraprism

Paper is book skin/Shave your grandma-Skin-Bill's cipher

Love pain-Bill's tattoo knuckles-Same

Lies-How to trick everyone into loving you-same

Regrowing limbs is Axy's art/but can he regrow a ripped out heart-How to cheat death-Bill's cipher (he must really be mad at the Axolotl)

Eye doctor of a different kind/who wants to make his patient blind-silly straws-caesar

The doctor says/three sips a day/will make the visions/go away-Same

Fussy eater/baby Billy/wouldn't drink/unless it's silly-same (love how this implies that he only drank out of silly straws)

Mason-Embarrassing memories-Bill's cipher (love seeing Dipper's real name again)

Booberry-the meaning of life(popsicle stick)-Bill's cipher

One eyed king-the early years-theraprism

Suck it-The good times(liscense plate)-Caesar

Can warp narrativity/protect fourth walls-Alert from time baby-A1Z26

Lone survivor of the Euclidean massacre-Rune (I wonder what happened during that event and what that event actually is)

Tantrum-Bill's Cipher

Which henchmaniac ratted me out-The shaman-Theraprism (I find this one funny)

Titans blood-the dark ages(Wizards hat)-Rune (Love the owl house reference here)

Suck it Merlin-Never trust a wizard-Rune

Daryll-Cipherstitions(lobster lord of the deep)-Theraprism (love how that's his name)

Curse Wittebane-Witchcraft-Rune

It's all made up-America(the dollar)-Caesar

Countries aren't-Bill's cipher

Rubberhose-Animation-A1Z26

Bill cipher-top secret file-Same

Six fingered freak-Lost in the woods-authors cipher

Stanley would have made her laugh-same (he just rolled better charisma dude)

If lost return to Bill-my muse and me-Theraprism (love how he said this means wise one and also more billford hehe)

Forget the past-A voice from the past page 2-Bill's cipher (this implies that Bill wants Ford to forget Stanley so he won't get in the way)

Hopefully F's gloves will hide what Cipher has done to my hands-I was wrong about everything page 2-Author's Cipher (I love this one <3)

Ouroboros-Wakey wakey here's a snakey (on the snake)-Bill's Cipher (I guess this is the snakes name?)

Miss you-try to forget (on window)-bro's secret code

Have I been too harsh all along?-Should I contact S-Bro's secret code

Hotxolotl-Dimensional authority call transcript (on the sauce packet)-Bill's cipher

I can write codes too it's not that hard!-Dipper's page-Bill's cipher (he do be flexing his intelligence there)

(What a buncha) Love ya bro-Stanley's letter-Bro's secret code (love how this shows that they both still remember the code they made up as kids)

Just fit in (repeated)-SSSSTANNNNLEEEYY-Rune

Holy mackerel-color cipher

AXOLOTLLOTAXOLOTLLOTLAXLOTLAXLOTLAXOLOTLLOTLAXLOTLAXLOTLAXOLOTLLOTLAXLOTLAXLO-Theraprism

Wellwellwellbeing-message from the theraprism-A1Z26

Spheremonger, Eternalor, Bill cipher, The Logicube, Paingorious, Jessica, Shadorg, Mr Silly, The beast-recent inpatient names-Theraprism (the hallucination dog is still creepy lol)

Justice for Scrimbles/Remember Grembley-inside Back cover-Theraprism/Rune (JUSTICE FOR SCRIMBLES!!!!)

Those are all of the codes that are in this book! (Or at least that I could find lol)

#gravity falls #the book of bill #codes #decoding #Bill cipher #Dipper pines #Stanley pines #Stanford pines #book of bill codes #the book of bill spoilers #JUSTICE FOR SCRIMBLES!!!!!!!

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thequeerwizardcouncil · 11 months ago

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Transgender Visibility Day Two: Estrogenic Boobaloo

Alternatively,

Transgender Visibility Day Two: Testosteronic Dickaloo

It is now Transgender Visibility Day for the other half of the world!

Let us celebrate, but firstly before anything else. The council would like to give out a few statements.

While this is an amazing celebration of our resilience and continued resistance to transphobia, we mustn't forget

Our fallen, the many killed in hate unjustly. Nex Benedict being one of the most recent

Our fellow queer in Palestine, Sudan, the Congo, etc. We mustn't forget about their suffering whilst we celebrate here so freely. Though we should care about all of the people not just the queer and trans in those places being subjected to the most inhumane conditions by tyrants.

The many bills, laws, and legislation trying to be passed to further erase us. Especially the KOSA bill, and quite sadly in Florida recently having passed legislation to ban minors from social media as an attack on us to be put in to effect in 2025.

With all of those being said, we should all continue to fight for those causes, continue fighting censorship. Continue fighting genocide. Continue fighting slavery.

We ask you all to continue spreading the word of these causes, these evils that must be stopped. As the council is bound by metaphysical law, we may not exit this and help you in the way we wish.

Fight KOSA, and censorship

Fight for our fallen, whether it's the unjustly banned, those dead from self harm, or those murdered in cold blood

Fight for those still persisting, the ones showing a fervour of resistance to fight oppresors.

We draw our strength from solidarity, it is what has allowed us to continue. Let it be the reason we win this war.

Anyways, here is our second message to all Transgender beings out there:

You are valid, you know you best. And we mean it. We may be filled with wise wizards, but we know that only oneself knows itself best. You know your identity better than anyone. Even when it can feel like your body disagrees with your true self, or others don't see you for who you are.

Know that even with all the pain, the grief, the hate, we and many many others fight every second for you to be you. For you to be safe. For all of us to be ourselves.

And we will see that day come, and by that day we hope for all of us to have survived, to tell stories of our battles, to guide a new generation of queers.

We just ask you continue being you, and being safe, and you will see that day come we guarantee. Even if it doesn't seem like it.

This world is a dark room covered in oil, we are a small candle of hope. And when it seems too dark, our hope will light the room with a burning fervour. To free us from this room. To burn down our prison.

We love you and appreciate you for who you are, please continue as you're the only one of you.

"in the dark we endure, and in the light we fight for who you call impure"

happy transgender visibility day

- The Queer Wizard Council <3 <2

@skyethebisexualwolfwizard

@im-a-wizard-who-dont-crime

@thebutterflyoficeandwisteria

@bisexualchemistry

@sassy-piece-of-parsley

@flirtyambiguouswizard

@ballisticallytestedwensleydale

@the-moth-wizard-of-mayhem

@aroace-wizard

@serious-tabaxi

@agentldiddy

@parkyrtheelvishbard

@autistic-dinos-and-dragons-lover

@a-goose-in-a-trenchcoat

@sapphicdragons-3

@transgender-wizard

@jhomikle

@cynical-artificer

@anne-androgynous-android

@asheslab

@luminethefoxincabin13-ts

@incrediwizard

@amethyst-aster

@ash-the-tiefling

@shittest-wizard-ever

@bi-gender-sorcerer

@somecallmekay

@be-gentle-with-littluns

@ladyofspoons

@slymewitch

@alchemical-overreaction

@frogpantsthebloodgod

@yourlocalbreadenthusiast

@mango-lord-of-poison

@detectivewizzard

@the-necrobotanist

@lixorloveslicorice

@hyper-lynx

@chaos-wizard-nyehehe

@song-de-lune

@lord-devere

@waluigis-elbow

@so-um-brasileiro

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billluver0124 · 8 months ago

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"fulfill your wish"

synopsis: bill has always wanted a child, especially with y/n. will she give him such a blessing and make him a father?

WARNINGS: kissing, mentions of impregnating

A/N : i saw a jjk (jujustu kaisen) fic earlier today similar to this and it inspired me to make this story! i think ill make a pt 2 to this but idk, lemme know in the comments if i should! enjoy mwah!!

it was always bills dream to have a family of his own, it started when he was younger and he would see fathers playing with their children. he always thought to himself "i hope that'll be me someday"

hes 28 now, with a wife of his own. who he loves very much and holds so dear to his entire soul. they've been together for so long and he knows shes the one hes gonna spend the rest of his life with, he would love to have a family with her. they've mentioned it here and there, but hes never really asked her the question. does y/n want children with him?

every time they go out, bill sees a pregnant woman somewhere or a family spending time with each other. he cant help but imagine thats him and y/n. oh how he wishes to be a father..

the desire gets even bigger whenever y/n babysits her niece. her siblings had a child not to long ago and y/n babysits her often, sending bill little pictures of her and the baby while hes at the studio. seeing y/n with a baby makes bills knees go weak. the way her niece sits so naturally on y/ns hip whenever she holds her. its like y/n was born to be a mother, and bill was so willing to make that happen. imagine y/n with bills baby! that's his ultimate dream.

today, bill was at the studio and y/n at home, babysitting her little niece. she was cuddling with the baby when she decides to send bill a cute little text...

{image attachment}

me and the baby miss you liebe <3

i miss you both too, very much. ill be home in 30 <3

okay baby, be safe coming home.

ich liebe dich❤

ich liebe dich auch meine schatzi❤

when bill saw the photo, his heart fluttered immediately. god please make this woman the mother of his child. the desire to make y/n a mother was becoming unbearable. he needed to tell her how he felt. and he will do just that when he gets home.

he unlocks the door to see y/n on the couch. the baby no where to be seen. "wheres the baby liebe?" he asked, "oh her mom picked her up not too long ago" "oh okay" bill said, giving y/n a kiss 'hello' in which she happily returned. after a little while of peaceful but awkward silence, bill speaks again "schatz, can we go to the room?" he asked, gulping nervously "i-i wanna talk about something with you" y/n raised an eyebrow, confused on what he wanted to talk about. "yea w-we can go to the room" they both got up and walked together to the bedroom they shared. y/n sits on the bed as bill closes the door behind him "so what did you want to talk about?" she asked, bill was hesitant to speak at first but he ended up talking anyways "have you ever...wanted a you know..." he got nervous as he spoke, beginning to stutter "a-a family?.."

y/n thought about it for a moment "i mean, yea but i dont know if ill be a good mother.." bills eyes widen "are you kidding me!? youd be an amazing mother schatzi!" bill takes y/n to the bathroom, putting her in front of the mirror "imagine yourself with a little belly, youd look so cute" bill put his hands on her stomach, rubbing it as if she was pregnant. y/n smiled, imagining if she really was pregnant, if she had a little family with bill. she would love for that to happen, but still..what if she isnt good enough to be a mom?

"i still dont know bill, what if im not a good moth-" "schatz, look at me" y/n looks to bills direction, he places his hands on her cheeks. "ive seen the way you are with kids, especially your niece. you take care of them as if they are your own..." he gets on his knees, pressing kisses on y/ns stomach. "i know you will be a good mother, and i promise to be the best father of our kids" y/n smiled, running her fingers through bills hair. "you really think so?" "yes, ever since we started dating i knew i wanted to be with you for the rest of my life. its why i married you, lets start a family together. its what we both wish for right?" bills gets up, wrapping his hands around her waist. pressing lovely kisses on her face.

"do you really think we can do this bill?" y/n asked, still hesitant on the topic. "i know we can, ive been granted my two wishes of being with you and marrying you, may i be blessed with a child from you as my third wish?" bill had the eyes of a puppy when he asked the question. he really wanted this with her.

after a little moment, y/n nods "okay, we can try and start a family" bills eyes light up when he hears her reply, "really? we can?!" y/n giggles at bills reaction

"yes, lets fulfill your wish"

#billluver0124 #tokio hotel #bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz angst #bill kaulitz fluff #emo #y2k #early 2000s #late 2000s

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annoyinglyhardsong · 6 months ago

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Codywan Week 2024: Day 8 Five Year Anniversary

Author Note: We have reached the end of Codywan Week this year! Thank you @codywanweek for putting on such an amazing event. This is the first time I've participated in something like this and it has been so amazing getting to see all of the amazing things you guys have created and sharing the things I've been able to create with all of you. Here's my day 8 prompt fill I just really wanted to write something cute and cozy of Obi-Wan and Cody just enjoying some peace together after the war in the fix-it au that these boys live in. (Sorry I love them both too much to let them suffer through all the angst that they go through.) As always likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome! Divider by @saradika-graphics, if you are looking for any cute graphics or dividers they have tons of amazing ones!

Tags/Warnings: SFW, cozy Codywan, sweet, kisses, a little bit of that's not how the Force works but go with it for me, slightly force sensitive Cody, soft Obi-Wan, anniversary celebrations, cozy morning meditations

The war had been over for three years, and after the chaos of cleanup and reparations and peace talks had finally been settled it had been three years of almost domestic tranquility for Obi-Wan.

The Jedi had worked with the clones and the senators they knew would support them to get multiple bills passed that recognized them as sentient beings and therefore deserving of all of the same rights as every other human in the galaxy. Like pay, the ability to vote, to get married, the list was almost endless.

The Jedi had also offered up the option to the clones to apply for transfers to continue their work alongside their Jedi in the temple. After all the Jedi that had been lost in the war they needed all of the help they could get, but more than that after years working alongside each other during the war many of the generals and their troopers were anxious to keep working together in any capacity and seeing as how integrated the two had already become it wasn’t much of a stretch to apply their current working arrangements to times of peace instead of war.

Cody had almost immediately jumped on the opportunity to transfer to the temple and continue working with Obi-Wan. Personal relationship aside the two worked well together and couldn’t imagine not at this point. They were two halves of the same coin, what one didn’t think of the other probably did.

Today was an average day in the temple. Nothing extremely pressing to deal with that day, just a few meetings. Obi-Wan had woken early that morning and was settled comfortably in front of the window in the main portion of his quarters, sinking deep into meditation.

During the war the force had been so turbulent and he and some of the other masters had been able to feel it growing weaker and more distant. But now that the Sith Lord, Chancellor Palpatine, and his minions had been dealt with, the Force had come back stronger than ever. Things felt right in the galaxy again.

Eventually he felt a familiar force signature flare nearby. Rousing from a deep reddish orange, to something brighter like the colors of the sunrise, bringing a small smile to his face. Cody was awake then. Obi-Wan reached out towards his partner through their budding force bond, he had always suspected Cody may be just a little Force sensitive and this was all but confirming it, and sent a small nudge of greeting towards the other before entwining his own force signature with his partners’.

Cody’s force signature had always been strong. A light in the dark, and a shelter from storms when racing thoughts and self-doubt wanted to consume him. It was warm, inviting, and steady just like Cody. This early in the morning he couldn’t help but be drawn to that warmth, like a moth to the flame, and just observed Cody going about his morning routine.

Using Cody’s force signature as an anchor, Obi-Wan was able to fully relax into his meditation letting the force swirl around him in a familiar manner, always keeping Cody’s wearabouts in the back of his mind as he padded between the bedroom and the main living quarters finishing the task of getting ready for the day.

Eventually the warmth that was Cody settled next to him, placing a warm cup of tea near him, drawing him out of his meditation finally.

“Good morning my dear,” he said, opening his eyes to give Cody a warm smile before picking up his tea and taking a careful sip, relishing in the warmth the beverage provided against the chill of the morning.

“Good morning,” Cody replied softly, shuffling a little closer to Obi-Wan to gently lean his head on the other man’s shoulder, Obi-Wan bringing an arm up to wrap around Cody. A familiar embrace as they watched the sun crest over the horizon on Coruscant. Sunlight slowly reaching across the land to glint off of buildings and vehicles.

They had spent many mornings like this, and had seen far more beautiful sunrises on planets far across the galaxy. But this one felt a little more special. Today marked 5 years since he and Cody had started dating. 5 years since Cody had officially asked him to be his cyare. And Obi-Wan had never been happier.

Being with Cody was as effortless as breathing. That’s not to say that they didn’t disagree on occasion or butt heads over matters, but with some time to think and cool down they were usually able to resolve things quickly and come to some kind of agreement. But day to day life was seamless. They had gotten along well professionally and the transition to forming a relationship in their personal lives just made sense to them. He was the other half to Obi-Wan’s soul, and he would forever be grateful that they had met. “My dear, do you know what day it is?” Obi-Wan asked quietly, still watching the sunrise over Coruscant.

Cody gave a thoughtful hum. “No?”

“Happy Anniversary love,” Obi-Wan murmured into Cody’s hair pressing a kiss into the curls.

“Is it really? Already? It feels like we just celebrated our anniversary. Happy Anniversary!” Cody responded, panicking for a second before settling.

“That it does, my love.” Obi-Wan replied with a smile and a small chuckle. Turning more serious he said, “Thank you for the most wonderful last 5 years. You have made my life truly magnificent, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of it with you.” He finished, cheek coming off of where it was resting on Cody’s head to meet his eyes. “I love you Cody, till the ends of the galaxy.”

“I love you too Obi, to the ends of the galaxy and beyond,” Cody responded, hand coming up to cup Obi-Wan’s cheek before pressing a kiss to Obi-Wan’s lips.

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