#finally got to combine two prompts lol

[kirbro]

up to no good @layton-npc-appreciation-week

#professor layton #leonard bloom #pl swift #art tag #finally got to combine two prompts lol

[totally-not-a-tickle-blog]

I saw the requests for fics were open I just need to ask if it's ok to put one in and if it's ok to have an x reader even if platonic bc honestly I'm in a mood lol and I am craving LER ALASTOR idk why and I love your fics and you are a great writer

Author's note: EVERYTHING I NEEDED WAS AN IDEA AND WHEN YOU POSTED THAT ONE PROMPT I WENT

I KNOW WHAT I GOT TO DO NOW.

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"Good night"

Summary: You were struggling to sleep that night, so in defeat, decided to just give up and stay up all night. Sadly for you, Alastor didn't exactly approved your idea.

Warnings: Swearing.

————————————————————————

Bags under your eyes would appear if you didn't go to sleep, and you knew it pretty well. It sucks, really sucks, but laying down on your bed doing nothing and being unable to finally take a good night of sleep sucks the double of those two combined.

As much as the TV wasn't that entertaining, it was enough to keep you awake and slightly less bored.

3AM, still nothing. You took a nap on the couch, but then woke up again. Did you actually took a nap? Or did you brain just turned off? Not sure, not bothered enough to care.

But, suddenly, something else finally got your eyes off of the screen.

"And what are you doing down here so late?"

The sudden voice made you stop on your tracks, jump even, as it came right after hours of silence.

"Jesus fucking Christ Alastor, I almost had a heart attack!" You took a deep breath, calming yourself down. "I'm just watching TV."

Alastor looks to the TV with the corner of his eyes, squeezing them slightly to show his displeasure. "Those things can be quite unhealthy at this time, my dear. Why don't you just turn this off and go to sleep?"

"Because I don't wanna and I can't sleep." You didn't even wanted to sound abrupt, but your filters slowly disappear when you grow more and more tired.

"Now that's just rude." Replied, not offended at all but rather keeping this in his mind for later. "Can't sleep, you say? Well, I have a solution for that." He added with a confident grin.

"...does it include hitting my head onto a wall to knock me out or something?"

Alastor stared at you with a blank face, blinking a few times. "Two solutions."

You rolled your eyes and finally sat, raising an eyebrow. "What solution?"

Alastor lets out a snicker, and with a single snap of his fingers, both of you are back on your room. You fell on your bed a bit too aggressively, but it's not like he cares.

"We only need to get rid of that energy of yours. I'm sure it'll be as easy as pie, you're already almost falling asleep."

"Uh... okay... and what's your plan, exactly?"

Your question made him look at you mischievously, which startled you and already made you let your guard up.

"Alastor-"

But before you could react, something pinched your side right behind you. As you looked, it was one of Alastor's little creatures. Is that a little man? A doll? A little demon? A pet? Whatever this thing is, made you flinch with a single touch.

And just like Alastor could spawn one of those, getting more of them needed the exact same effort.

"What are those??"

"Oh, I never really gave them names, so call them whatever you want. They're also harmless."

Three of them surrounded you, poking your upperbody in different spots while giggling.

"H-Hey! Gehehet off!" They may be weird but also looked weirdly adorable, what made you hesitated on pushing them away. "Thehehey're tick-"

But you stopped yourself right away. It got the other demon's attention, since your fit of giggles was definitely not the cause of the sudden hold up.

"Did you just interrupted yourself?" He asked teasingly, leaning towards you with a more bratty smile.

"Whahahat?! Nohohoho!"

Alastor shrugged, throwing his staff lightly from one hand to another. "If that's the case, I must have misunderstood. After all, there's no reason for you to not say 'tickle'." His head turned back to you, curiously. "Correct?"

As they keep tickling you, you ended up falling on the bed, rolling back and fourth as a poor attempt to escape. "ShuhUHUHUT UP!"

The deer chuckled at your reaction to it. "Oh, I'm not the one who should! Your volume may wake up someone in the hotel."

"Thehehen STOHOP!"

Your words entered his ear and leaved the other, or even worse, didn't even entered in any at the first place, as everything he did was look at his nails.

"I can't, I already promised to help. It is getting you tired after all-"

"FUHUHUHUCK!!"

Your tone suddenly increased in a... huge volume. More than he expected, what startled the guy. Wanting or not, if anyone wakes up he'll end up getting in trouble aswell, so he's thinking twice about his plans.

However, something is off for him. Once you lay down, you didn't got up again nor tried to. It definitely isn't bothering you as much as it looks like, and this fact did not make it worse for himself. More likely to be the opposite, as an encouragement.

The inner conflict was agonizing to keep, and Alastor's eyes show that. With a sigh mixed with a humming, he snaps his fingers, finally sparing you from the shadows.

Your laughter slowly died down, and without realizing, your face shifts to one of disappointment.

"Hah... heh... what..?"

The taller one sits by your side, avoiding visual contact but, for some reason, not the physical one.

Before you could react, Alastor quickly recomposed himself, looking at you with a cheeky grin once again while his own hand touches your stomach.

"It is unfair for me to get punished because of your sensitivity, so I'll try something lighter this time."

The demon's fingers began to scratch, but not hurt, tickling you in a slow yet surprisingly effective way. You grabbed his wrist, but didn't have the courage to take it off as you knew it would come to an end if you did.

Your chuckles, snorts, cackles, any noises you would make, would spread the room as long as he wanted, and the silence would only return once you're finally asleep.

#tickling #tickle #tickle community #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #x reader #ler!alastor #lee!reader

[riotwritesthings]

Who Guards the Bodyguard

T, 3k - No-Powers AU, Humor, bodyguard!Bucky

One college bar, one bodyguard, one sleazeball who can't take no for an answer. Shaken, not stirred.

Hey remember when I took birthday prompts, like… 9 months ago? Good times. Anyways guess what I finally finished.

The prompt was some combination of “You’re my new bodyguard and you’re cute” / “Help me I’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second” / “I’m going to save you from the terrible date you’re having” So I really just mashed all of those together and ended up with this lol. I hope you enjoy it @clarajanedesperaux!

~

This job is supposed to be easy.

All Bucky has to do is keep an eye on a billionaire’s spoiled, wild son and make sure the kid doesn’t end up kidnapped or otherwise killed. Easy.

And yet, it has not been easy, most notably because Tony Stark can’t know that Bucky is guarding him. Howard had been very insistent about his son’s ability and determination to ditch his previous bodyguards, and half of the stories were honestly impressive if true. So Bucky has a very strict set of guidelines to follow that most days make him feel more like a stalker than anything else.

He gets a ping whenever Tony leaves the Stark family’s Fifth Avenue mansion, and satellite tracking makes it quick work to follow him anywhere in the city. Bucky’s not exactly sure how Stark has GPS-tagged his son, but he’s not paid to ask questions.

He’s paid to put his experience in black ops and undercover work to good use and not be seen while he’s following a twenty-year-old around the city making sure no one kills the kid.

Totally normal, super easy.

Yeah right, Bucky thinks to himself in bemusement as he watches Tony over the rim of his beer.

This is the third bar the Stark heir has been to tonight, and Bucky really must be getting old because all he wants is to go home.

He’d kind of like to tell Tony to go home too, and not just because it would mean Bucky could go back to his apartment to hang out with his cat. It’s because he knows what Tony is doing, he knows the rotating cast of friends that meet Tony at one bar just to abandon him at another. He knows how damn lonely that is.

He might be watching from a distance, but Bucky is pretty damn good at what he does and he can tell there’s a lot more to Tony than the kid lets on. He’s got a bigger heart than he likes to show and hidden scars, he deserves better than fake friends and a father who won’t even give him a chance.

But that’s none of Bucky’s business.

Two more bars later, Bucky is feeling a lot less generous towards his charge. This place is too damn crowded, and loud, and Bucky has to keep moving around to keep Tony in his sight. And for what, just to watch him half-heartedly flirt with some asshole in a trucker hat, of all things? The kid could at least have the decency to have some taste.

Bucky forces down some more unsavory thoughts about trucker-hat-douche as he slides onto another seat at the bar and waves for a refill on his beer. He pointedly ignores it when the guy on the next stool spins to face him, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on Tony near the pool table across the bar. Even if he wasn’t working right now, he is in no mood and he does his best to convey that with the side of his face.

The asshole doesn’t take the hint though, and Bucky can feel the weight of his sleazy smirk as he asks, “Well hello, you come here often?”

“Nope,” Bucky says shortly, which is conveniently both true, and will hopefully cut off any further conversation.

"That makes sense,” the man says with a nod and a widening smirk, continuing to ignore all of Bucky’s not-so-subtle hints, “I would remember seeing you before.”

He probably thinks it sounds flattering, but he just comes across as gross. Bucky takes his eyes off his charge just long enough to glance over at the man next to him, taking in his flushed, sweaty face. The asshole is definitely drunk, probably completely hammered, and Bucky doesn’t want to deal with this.

He fixes his eyes forward again, hoping the guy will at least take one of his hints if he just keeps throwing them in the asshole’s face.

“C’mon, I’ve seen you moving all around the bar,“ the man says, because of course he can’t just give up. ”It’s obvious you’re looking for something, only to wind up next to me,“ he continues in what he probably thinks is an alluring tone, ”there’s no reason to play hard to get now.”

"‘M not playing anythin’,” Bucky snaps, cutting his gaze to the side just long enough to give the man a sharp glare, "and I’m not interested."

The asshole on the next stool just laughs, and Bucky can smell the vodka on his breath as he leans closer. “Don’t be like that,” he says with another slimey laugh, “you don’t even know me yet, and I’m very interesting.”

Bucky lets himself outright scoff at that, because he very seriously doubts that this bar-regular who can’t take no for an answer has any sort of hobby that Bucky would find interesting. He can see it from the corner of his eye when the asshole scowls, when his fingers curl tighter around his drink, and Bucky sighs internally.

“What, you think you’re too good to even give me the fucking time of day?” The guy demands, abandoning his attempt at a sultry tone in favor of a snarl. It sounds more natural for him, honestly.

There are a lot of ways Bucky could answer that.

He could point out that technically at this point it would be ‘time of night.’ Or he could get brutally honest and say that while he doesn’t usually think very highly of himself at all these days, he does still think he can do better than this random bar asshole. Maybe not a whole lot better, but better.

Instead of saying anything at all though, Bucky reluctantly tears his eyes away from the Stark heir across the small bar. He turns to finally face the man next to him and fixes him with a dry, expectant stare, quirking an eyebrow and letting the man fill in how ‘interesting’ Bucky thinks he is for himself.

The asshole’s face starts to twist with rage, but he smooths it out again with what looks like a fair amount of effort before saying, “Well, how about you let me buy you a drink and give me sixty seconds to change your mind.”

“No,” Bucky says shortly and starts to turn away. But then the man starts to reach for him, like he’s going to grab Bucky’s shoulder to stop him, and Bucky goes tense all over.

Part of him, a big part, wants to break this asshole’s wrist and be done with it, but that would draw way too much attention. He doesn’t trust himself to grab the man’s hand without breaking something, and he can’t even risk punching the jerk when his entire job relies on Tony never noticing him.

So Bucky has to settle for moving out of the asshole’s reach, shifting half off of his stool to accomplish it, and glaring harder as he snaps, "Do not touch me."

If the man was less drunk, and less of a dick, there’s no doubt that Bucky’s best death glare would be enough to chase him off. But he is a drunk asshole, so instead of running he grits his teeth and narrows his eyes.

“Listen, asshole,” the guy starts and Bucky does outright laugh at that, sharp and mocking.

He’s not surprised that the man’s face flushes an angrier shade of red, but Bucky really couldn’t help himself. The asshole continues to sputter for a second before sliding ungracefully off his stool and pulling himself up to his full height, wobbling slightly in the process.

“I don’t appreciate you- fuckin’- talking down to me,” the asshole spits furiously, but Bucky isn’t listening to him anymore.

With a sigh, Bucky slides the rest of the way off of his own stool and he can only hope that Tony is still distracted with the trucker-hat-douche because this is definitely about to become a scene. At least it’s somewhat gratifying to watch the drunk stumble back half a step when Bucky pulls himself up to his full height and squares his shoulders, but it doesn’t look like the man plans on backing down.

“Last chance to walk away,” Bucky warns because he has had it with tonight. At this point he will be perfectly happy to get kicked out of this shitty bar and fuck this job.

The asshole has his mouth open to respond, but then his eyes go wide as Bucky feels someone winding their arms around his and plastering themself tightly to his side. Bucky feels his own face twitch in shock when he jerks his gaze to the side and realizes that it’s Tony clinging to him.

Tony, who Bucky is supposed to be keeping an eye on, and who is not supposed to even be aware of Bucky’s existence. Tony, who is smiling up at him like Bucky isn’t a complete stranger to him, like he knows Bucky.

“There you are, hot stuff,” Tony says, his tone as familiar as his grin, and Bucky has a terrible feeling about the future of his employment. “I was starting to think you were standing me up,” Tony continues, fluttering those long eyelashes up at him.

The eyelashes that Bucky has tried so hard not to notice, but he’s sure as hell noticing them now.

Even caught off guard, and maybe a little distracted, Bucky isn’t a complete moron. He knows what Tony is doing, so he quickly pulls it together and works up a smile of his own.

“Wouldn’t’ve been so hard t’ spot you if you’d picked a less crowded place,” Bucky finds himself saying, because he can’t not complain about this dive bar now that he’s been given the chance.

Tony throws his head back with a laugh, and Bucky does not let himself get caught up in the sound of it. Not even a little.

“I * knew* you would hate it,” Tony says gleefully and the light in his eyes isn’t just teasing, it’s knowing.

Like Tony actually chose this bar just to annoy him, and Bucky is officially in so over his head.

He is also reluctantly charmed, and Bucky can’t fight down a tiny grin of his own even as he shakes his head and says, “You-”

“Hey,” the asshole interrupts, apparently not happy with being completely ignored.

He’s glaring at both of them now, and Bucky automatically shifts so he’s a little more between the drunk and the person he’s supposed to be secretly bodyguarding. He can at least still do half of his job. Tony grins at him like he knows exactly what Bucky is thinking, and hell, he probably does. Just like it’s probably no accident that Tony is wrapped around his good arm, making it much less likely that he’ll throw a punch.

Nothing would really surprise Bucky at this point, Tony is so damn smart and apparently Bucky has been underestimating him, too. And apparently, Tony has been watching him back, and Bucky has no idea what to do with that.

When the asshole makes another impatient sound Tony finally deigns to look over at him, barely tearing his gaze away from Bucky long enough to flit his eyes over the man from head to foot.

“Bye,” Tony says, his tone artfully dismissive, and then goes right back to grinning up at Bucky like the other man doesn’t exist.

To Tony’s credit, his cold, superior tone has the asshole automatically taking a step backward, even as he sputters, "Dude, wh- what the fuck-"

“What part are you not getting?” Tony asks, one sharp eyebrow crawling up his forehead as he slowly turns to face the asshole again, like he’s still unconvinced that the man is worth the effort. ”He was looking for someone, now he’s found me,“ Tony continues as he smoothly fits himself under Bucky’s arm, ”no part of this has anything to do with you, so you can go ahead and leave now."

Bucky can’t quite bite down his laugh when the drunk man sputters dumbly again, and the tiny grin that Tony flashes up at him has Bucky’s heartbeat doing truly concerning things in his chest. But he’s not thinking about that, just like he’s not thinking about the way his arm has automatically fallen around Tony’s shoulders, the way Tony fits perfectly against his side.

“L-Listen here, you little-” the asshole stutters and then trails off, his face going scarlet as he seems to notice all of the people staring at them.

"Little what?" Tony asks coldly, the look on his face just daring the asshole to come up with something that Tony hasn’t been called before. Bucky is equal parts impressed, enraged at his employer all over again, and trying his best not to be completely smitten.

The asshole’s face is nearly purple as his eyes dart from side to side, taking note of the increasing number of people watching them with open interest and amusement.

“Fuck this,” he grumbles and finally starts to back away, deciding to save what little face he has left in front of this crowd of college douchebags. He apparently has to try and get the last word though, because as he turns he shoots Bucky a final glare he loudly mutters “I could do better anyways.”

“Doubt it!” Tony calls after him gleefully, and the on-looking crowd laughs. Then he turns his bright grin up at Bucky, and oh, fuck.

Bucky is so fucking fucked.

“Do you want to get out of here, now?” Tony asks, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Yes,” Bucky groans instantly and emphatically, all thoughts of his imminent unemployment momentarily forgotten in the force of his relief over getting to leave.

Being caught by Tony is the least of the rules he’s broken, but he can worry about that later, or maybe never. It’s not like anyone needs to know that he’s been slowly but surely failing the first rule of bodyguarding over months of catching glimpses of the real Tony. Except Tony might know, because he’s been watching Bucky back.

And Tony is still grinning smugly as he starts to drag Bucky out of the bar with his arm still looped comfortably around Bucky’s waist, staying plastered to his side. Bucky has no idea if it’s necessary or not, he can’t tear his eyes away from Tony to see if the asshole is still hanging around.

He does spare the most fleeting thought for the trucker hat douche that Tony was flirting with before, but that’s only to think that at least this mess is getting Tony away from that asshole. Tony deserves so much better, of that Bucky is sure, he’s had way too much time to think about it while watching Tony flirt with every type of douchebag.

Once they’re out in the cool night air Bucky drags in his first deep breath in what feels like hours, relishing in the slightly less disgusting smells of the city. At least there’s less old-vomit smell.

When Tony snickers Bucky looks over at him again, honestly not sure what to make of the teasing, knowing smile on Tony’s face.

”So, where to now?“ Tony asks innocently, like he’s not still actively throwing Bucky’s life into chaos.

”Off to look for a new job, probably,“ Bucky grumbles, but he can’t actually force any annoyance into his voice. It’s not like he actually likes this job, after all, but…

He’ll probably never see Tony again, once he’s fired, and that thought sends a sharp pang through his chest that Bucky is trying not to think about too hard. Tony is still staring up at him as they start to aimlessly wander down the sidewalk, apparently trusting Bucky not to run them into any street signs, and Bucky is trying not to think about that either.

”Why?“ Tony asks, sounding genuinely confused, and then he pouts as he adds, ”I can go back to pretending not to notice you, is that more fun? Little weird, big-time stalker vibes, but I can work with that.“

Bucky huffs out a laugh, then raises an eyebrow as he asks, ”“S that what you’re into? That why you haven’ ditched me yet, like all th’ others?”

“Give yourself some credit,” Tony says, patting his side, “I did try at first, but you’re hard to shake. Plus, you’re much cuter than the rest of them were.”

Bucky tears his eyes away from Tony’s teasing, flirty grin, looking back down the dark street and trying to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks. ”Maybe I’m jus’ sick of bein’ dragged to college bars,“ he says after a pause that’s probably tellingly long.

”Okay,“ Tony says agreeably, and when Bucky looks over at him in surprise, he finds Tony grinning up at him with an almost hopeful look in his eyes as he asks, ”How do you feel about burgers?“

Bucky finds himself trailing to a stop, still staring at Tony, who stopped right along with him and is now watching with a nervous little smile, like maybe he thinks the ‘better’ that he deserves is somehow Bucky.

For a second all Bucky can do is stare, his mouth gone completely dry. He has to lick his lips, watching Tony’s clever gaze track the motion, before he can croak out, “Seems like I’m gonna be fired for a different reason.”

Tony laughs, delighted, and starts leading him down the street again as he asks, ”What are you talking about? What better place to guard me from than up close and personal?“

Bucky is pretty sure that the elder Stark would not agree with that statement, but like hell is he going to be the one to point that out. He knows this is probably a terrible idea, and he’s definitely going to get fired for this sooner or later, but with any luck, it won’t be the last time he sees Tony.

”So, burgers?“ Bucky asks as he tightens his arm a little more around Tony’s shoulders, and when Tony smiles wider Bucky finally lets himself acknowledge the way it makes his heart flip over itself in his chest.

#my fic #winteriron #bucky/tony #starkbucks #riot writes

[threadsun]

@sylveon-and-velveon Asks: "Okay! I got another one for the lil' headcannon prompts! What happens if all the guys found out that MC secretly had bird wings? These wings that can be any species. {You get to choose, or just make it random lol}. And also can be any colour ^^ Have fun on this and don't stress out :3 P.S: You can use the fact on birds getting horny due to their wings being touched."

Oooh this is a fun one!! And gives me the chance to be a bird nerd!! All the descriptions are edited excerpts from each bird's wikipedia article.

I specifically went with the same wings I thought the guys would have, since mating pairs and all that...

Content: yandere tendencies, wing kink, grooming/preening, general vague horniness, teasing, mention of corruption kink, Jean being shifty and manipulative as usual

Jack:

Scarlet Macaw - The scarlet macaw's plumage is mostly scarlet, but the greater upper wing coverts are yellow, the upper sides of the flight feathers of the wings are dark blue, and the undersides of the wing are dark red with metallic gold iridescence. The scarlet macaw is a monogamous bird, with individuals remaining with one partner throughout their lives. While comparatively docile at most times of the year, the scarlet macaw may be formidably aggressive during periods of breeding.

It's not easy to keep your wings hidden. They’re large and they fold around your sides more than across your back. You make do with large sweaters when you go out, but at home you’re used to being able to let them be free.

So when Jack moves in… well, you can only keep your wings hidden for so long before it gets uncomfortable. Before you need to let them breathe, let them flutter. You’ve taken to sneaking off to your room to take your shirt off and let them be free for a little while.

What you don’t expect, is for Jack to wander into your room without knocking, asking you what you want for dinner.

You’re not sure which one of you is more embarrassed. His little red marks almost disappear into his blush, and you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as well as you move your arms quickly to cover your chest.

He stammers out an apology, unable to stop staring at the brightly coloured feathers stretching out behind you. They match his outfit so well. They’re his colours. Your wings are his colours. You have wings.

He’s really not sure what to focus on first, so instead he gently guides you to sit on the bed and begins asking you questions about them. He’s so sincere and sweet, no hint of judgement in his voice as he listens to your explanations.

His fingers trail down your spine, brushing over where your wings meet your shoulder blades. You can’t help but shiver. Your wings are so sensitive, even the gentle brush of his fingertips against the skin where the calamus lays buried to keep your feathers in place is enough to send your skin twitching.

His hand strays into your feathers, gently smoothing down the ones that got ruffled when he’d startled you. It’s… nice. Being preened like this, with such gentle tenderness. Being treated so kindly and without judgement.

And every touch of his hand against your feathers sends a fresh shudder through you, the softness and the arousal a heady combination. There’s no way you’re letting him leave you after this. You’ve found your mate.

Ian:

Rosy-Faced Lovebird – The rosy-faced lovebird's coloration can vary widely among populations. Plumage is identical in males and females. The lovebird is renowned for its sleep position in which two will sit side-by-side and turn their faces in towards each other. Lovebirds are kept alone or in pairs, although due to their social requirements, they are best kept in pairs. The rosy-faced lovebird can be aggressive, and tends to bond towards an individual. Two lovebirds may not always get along, and may have to be separated.

Ian was the first one to notice your wings. They began growing in just as you thought you were finally getting through the last of your puberty. Just your luck, really, to get saddled with a new problem right when you thought things were getting better.

At first, it’s only a few downy barbs poking through your skin. They itch like hell and you can’t quite reach them yourself. So you ask your best friend for help. You don’t expect him to tug on the little baby feathers.

He’s very apologetic when you yelp. He hadn’t realised they were stuck in, and thought removing them might help the itching.

The two of you learn more about it together. He keeps an eye on you as the feathers begin to grow in earnest. He updates you as bones begin to spread and muscles begin to form, all covered in a layer of skin and feathers.

It’s easier to cope with, having Ian there. He does all sorts of research on wings, on birds, trying to figure out why you’re growing them and what sort of wings they are. He learns to preen them and wash them for you, taking care to be gentle.

It’s hard not to fall for him even more, when he’s so sweet with your secret. There’s no fear that he’ll tell anyone, or that he’ll think less of you for it. He’s fascinated by your feathers, and as adoring as always towards you.

When you start properly dating, it becomes even more evident how much he loves you and your wings. When you share a bed, you sleep with foreheads pressed together, one of his arms around you so he can stroke your feathers gently as you two fall asleep. He compliments them as often as he compliments everything else about you.

He learns quite quickly just how... sensitive your wings can get. He’s very apologetic the first time he touches them just so and you give a nervous little whimper. But one look at your blushing face has him reaching out to touch them again.

He loves the way you croon for him when he runs his fingers through your soft plumage. The way you arch into his touch and beg him for more. He’s not the most confident guy, but it’s definitely an ego boost to know exactly how to turn you on~

Shaun:

Common Magpie – The common magpie is believed to be not only among the most intelligent of birds, but also among the most intelligent of all animals. The scapulars are pure white; the wings are black glossed with green or purple, and the primaries have white inner webs, conspicuous when the wing is open. The common magpie is monogamous, and pairs often remain together from one breeding season to the next. The courtship display of the common magpie includes short buoyant flights and chases.

Shaun’s just one of those people that it’s hard to hide things from. Not just because he’s rather perceptive when he wants to be, but also because he’s so open and accepting about everything, it’s hard to feel justified keeping secrets.

It’s something you’ve wanted to tell him about for a long time. But it’s hard to find the courage, and even harder to find the right time for it. Sometimes it’s easier to just rip off the bandage instead. Or, more accurately in this case, your shirt.

He doesn’t know what’s happening, but he is not complaining. He does sort of get the wrong idea at first though.

Once his eyes catch sight of your wings, though, he kind of catches up to what’s going on. He’s pretty speechless, honestly. He doesn’t know what to say, but he can tell that it’s an important moment. That you’re trusting him with something big.

So he does what he does best, and diffuses the tension with a laugh and a grin, and a comment about how he can’t believe you’d hide something so fucking cool from him! Seriously, this is the coolest thing he’s ever seen!

He’s not about to let you feel bad about it. Or second guess showing your wings to him. No, he’s taking the time to look them over and give an endless commentary about how cool they are and what a good aesthetic you could cultivate around them.

He doesn’t really get why you’re so determined to hide them. If he had sick wings like that, especially black glossy ones like yours, he’d be showing them off! But he can tell that it’s important to you that this stay secret. So he promises you and himself that he’ll never tell a soul. And that he’ll do everything in his power to stop others from finding out.

He pesters you constantly to let him touch them. He really wants to feel how soft and sleek they are, especially once you keep them out around him more often. But you always seem to get flustered and avoid the question when he asks.

He kind of catches on to the reason after a while. And then he’s even more determined to touch them. When he finally convinces you it won’t make things weird, he relishes the chance to run his fingers along your wings and listen to you gasp and shudder.

Nick:

Mute Swan – The name 'mute' derives from mute swans being less vocal than other swan species. This large swan is wholly white in plumage, though the feathers are often stained orange-brown by iron and tannins in the water. The mute swan is monogamous and strongly territorial. It can be very aggressive in defence of its nest and is highly protective of its mate and offspring. During a courtship display, the mute swan pair utter a rhythmic song to help synchronize the movements of their heads and necks.

Openness and honesty are something Nick emphasises a lot. He hates the idea of you hiding things from him. So it’s hard to keep your wings secret for very long, once you realise you want a proper relationship with him.

It’s not an easy thing to explain to someone. You sort of stumble through an odd introduction, trying to warm him up to what you’re about to show him. He assures you he’s seen just about everything in his line of work, but…

Well, this is a new one, even for him. He can’t even pretend that he’s seen someone with wings before.

That doesn’t mean he has a problem with it, though. No, he’s very quick to reassure you that this is just another thing that makes you unique and perfect in his eyes. That they’re very beautiful wings and they suit you.

He’s more than a little fascinated by the pure whiteness of your wings. They look almost angelic. Which, he insists, is very fitting for you. He might not say it aloud, but something about that makes his corruption kink sing~

He takes over grooming and preening your wings as soon as you let him. He’s very careful to help you keep them pure and clean. He’ll only bathe them with distilled water free from anything that might stain the snowy feathers.

He doesn’t miss the way you shiver and sigh when his hands work on your wings. The way you give a soft, nearly inaudible hum in the back of your throat when he runs his fingers through them. He often wonders what pretty noises he could draw from you if you let him. What lovely songs he could get from his pretty little bird~

But he won’t touch them beyond cleaning until you invite him to. He wants to see the desperation, wants to tease you until you’re begging for him. He’ll just keep things tame and stick to grooming until you can’t stand it.

And when you finally break at the feeling of his fingers dedicatedly smoothing your feathers back into place, and beg him to fuck you… well, he’s going to see just how worked up he can get you by giving those wings a little tug~

Joseph:

Wild Rock Dove – Often simply referred to as the "pigeon," the wild rock dove is pale grey with two black bars on each wing and glossy yellowish, greenish, and reddish-purple iridescence along its wing feathers. The wild rock dove mates for life, and when displaying, its song is partly sexual, partly threatening. It primarily uses powder down feathers for preening, which gives a soft and silky feel to its plumage. Powder down feathers are spread across the body and have a tendency to disintegrate. The powder, akin to talcum powder, helps maintain the plumage.

Joseph has secrets too. You know this. So why does it feel so bad to keep this from him? You’re not sure, but it really does make you feel guilty, not trusting him with such an important part of you.

He gets it, though. He can tell that you’re hiding something from him, and he assures you that it’s fine. That he’ll be there to listen when you’re ready, but he’ll never pressure you into telling him whatever it is.

Honestly, though… it’s much easier to show him, rather than tell him. It’s as simple as finally letting him take your shirt off.

He’s breathless. Wordless. There’s nothing he can think or say that makes sense of what he’s seeing. He wants to tell you not to worry. That he won’t treat you any different. But he can’t quite seem to get the words out when he tries.

So he does the next best thing. He reaches out and brushes his fingers over the iridescent feathers by your shoulders. They’re hardly noticeable, most of the wings being grey and black. But he sees them. And he thinks they’re beautiful.

With anyone else, you might feel uncomfortable admitting they’re pigeon wings. Pigeons, seen as pests and annoyances. Seen as disgusting vermin. But Joseph has always been vocal about the beauty of the rock dove. And now, about your beauty too.

He freaks out, the first time one of your powder down feathers comes off in his hands and crumbles. He’s terrified that he’s hurt you. But once you explain… well, he wants nothing more than to run his fingers through your feathers and preen you. Spreading that powder on your wings until they’re silky and soft.

It’s akin to a sensual massage, the way that he does it. His fingers dig lightly into the muscles at the top and then soothe through your plumage. It’s relaxing and arousing in one motion, and he doesn’t miss the way you squirm at his touch.

He’s not going to use it against you, exactly. But he does like to stroke your wings while he makes love to you. And when he’s in a teasing mood, he’s prone to running his fingers right along the skin where your wings meet your back.

Jean:

Mourning Dove – The mourning dove, also known as the rain dove or the turtle dove, is a prolific breeder. In warmer areas, this bird may raise up to six broods in a season. The elliptical wings are broad and the plumage is generally light grey-brown with black spotting. The mourning dove often sunbathes, rain bathes, water bathes, and dustbathes. Mated pairs will often preen each other's feathers. The mourning dove is generally monogamous and forms strong pair bonds.

Jean isn’t the type to just ignore it when you’re clearly keeping something from him. And refusing to ever take off your baggy shirts, even when you’re alone together, definitely means you’re keeping something from him.

He’ll try to get you to tell him outright. To convince you to trust him or to tell you how heartbroken he is that you don’t. But if he needs to, he’ll contrive an “accident” where he walks in on you changing.

However it is that he finds out, he’s not as phased as you expect. He’s more… appraising? Almost like he’s wondering how it could benefit him.

He’s very reassuring, though. Soothing. He makes sure you know that he thinks they’re lovely and that you’re still his sweetheart. That he’s happy you trust him with this secret, and he promises to keep all of your secrets, forever.

He becomes more protective over you once he finds out. He’s worried that if other people find out, it’ll take you away from him. That you’ll be so crowded by curious people, he’ll never get to spend time alone with you again.

He urges you to spend more time in the house. And urges you to spend that time with your wings out, so that you can be more comfortable. He takes over preening you, and gets defensive when anyone else tries to touch your back.

He’s so kind and attentive, though, that it’s kind of hard to complain. It is nice having someone taking care of your wings for you. And it is much better being able to let your wings out and stretch them when you’re at home. And you do get his point, about never knowing peace if the general public find out about your wings…

And more important than anything else, it’s hard to think straight when he sits you down between his legs and begins to preen your feathers for you. When he pours warm water over them in the bath and runs his fingers through them until they’re all in place.

He’s not going to give you any serious amount of time to wonder if he’s being overprotective. You’ll be too busy crooning for him, arching into his touch as his nimble fingers work their magic in your feathers.

Rory:

Common Teal – The common teal gives its name to the blue-green colour teal. It is a highly gregarious duck outside the breeding season and is rather nimble on the ground. The outer scapular feathers are white, with a black border to the outer vanes. The primary remiges are dark greyish brown; the speculum feathers are iridescent blackish-green with white tips. The brown upperwing covers have yellowish-white tips. The underwing is whitish, with grey remiges, dense dark spotting on the inner coverts and a dark leading edge.

Rory is smarter than people give him credit for. He watches you closely, gathers evidence, and rather quickly figures out that you’re hiding something under your shirt. Something on your back. Something sensitive, in more than one sense of the word.

He can’t figure out much more than that until you’re willing to tell him, though. So he patiently waits for the right time. For the day that you’re ready to open up to him and finally let him see what you’ve been hiding.

Wings wasn’t at the top of his list, but the thought had crossed his mind more than once. He’s not nearly as surprised as he should be.

No, it makes sense to him. He finally understands a lot of the things you do. And he feels bad about all the effort you have to go to, just to stop people from finding out about them. He understands why you hide it, of course. But he still feels bad.

He prides himself on being a safe person for you. On being someone you can have your wings out around, without having to worry about being judged. He hardly comments on them at all, to make sure you’re comfortable.

When he does talk about them, it’s always with a smile and a warm voice. He makes it very clear that they’re a part of you, and that he loves all of you. Wings included. And that nothing is going to change that.

He’s very happy to help care for your wings. He thinks they’re absolutely gorgeous, and he loves to trace the patterns with his fingertips while he checks for any that are askew. He also loves the way it makes you hum and squirm and generally try to pretend you’re not getting all worked up by his touches.

It’s cute, really. And he loves to see how long he can tease you for under the guise of preening your wings before you give up and ask for things to get more intimate. It’s just so fun to watch you melt under his hands!

Whenever he wants lazy cuddles to turn into something more, his hand will trail up to your back to start gently tracing the outline of your wings. He’ll work his fingers into your feathers and wait for you to take matters into your own hands.

#swwsdj #something's wrong with sunny day jack #sdj jack #sdj ian #sdj shaun #sdj nick #sdj joseph #sdj jean #sdj rory #sunny day jack x reader #ian duff x reader #shaun durand cofer x reader #nick herraras x reader #joseph haberdae x reader #jean laurent x reader #rory rainberry x reader #gn!reader #18+ only #sunshine #sylveon-and-velveon #I love getting autistic about birds!!

[clockwayswrites]

Flashfics 1 Masterpost!

Ship, Color, Plant

Original Post CLOSED

As you can see, I asked for:

-A Danny + DC ship (/ or &) which is self explanatory.

-A color from the rainbow (roygbiv). Before anyone picked I assigned a topic to each color based on something that color evoked for me! I'm not going to lie, I didn't think too hard on these lol.

Red- fighting

Orange - trick or treat

Yellow - food/meal

Green - eldritch

Blue - sleep(y)

Indigo - smooches/cuddles

Violet - angst (violent violet)

(For those curious: 1R, 3O, 1Y, 2G, 4B, 1I, 4V)

-A plant of some type. The plant is a little vague, but it was there to provide a hook of some sort- a mood or color palette or texture. Basically the plant is the vibe!

(If anyone else wants to use this idea process (or parts of it) to do prompts themselves, feel free!)

Goal was to stay short and quick with these! Here are all the links and a bit of my thought process under the cut! The reasoning is likely spoilery for the pieces, so you might want to read the ficlet first!

Danny/Jason, Indigo, False Indigo

Danny/Jason, Yellow, Dandelions

Smooch + False Indigo just had to be fake dating! It was a must. I admittedly have more thoughts on this one than a ficlet warrants...

Danny/Tim, Violet, Iris

Food/Meal. Dandelions are seen as just weeds in the US, but actually from their roots to leaves to flowers have a ton of uses! So I wanted there to be a restaurant that was dubious from the outside, but had amazing food.

Danny & Billy Batson, Orange, Prickly Pear

Angst. I love irises. The colors of traditional purple iris with that spot of yellow reminds me of dusk. Dusk feels like an ending so we went with a dramatic deadline!

Danny/Bruce, Blue, Blue Lily

Trick or Treat. Danny brings Billy food as they plot. For the plant a prickly pear is good eating, but... well, prickly, so I went with a clear friendship with some underlying contentiousness.

Danny & Steph Brown, Violet, Violets

Sleepy. A blue lily looks a little scattered, even frayed, but it still has a lovely soft color. It was perfect for a Bruce who's trying to hard and a soft moment. (Great fun to finally write this ship.)

Danny & Arthur Curry (Aquaman, Orin), Blue, Ruby Slipper Succulent

Angst. Purple bruises clustered together like violet flowers came to mind right away- especially for violent violets. Two spirited heroes in over their heads...

Danny/Jason, Orange, Apricot Tree

Sleepy- went with exhausted here. The succulents reminded me both of the crown of fire but also coral, so I really wanted to focus on Danny visiting Arthur/Orin. As both half human kings, I thought that it could be nice to set up a mentor idea.

Danny/Stephanie, Violet, Orchids

Trick or Treat. I struggled a bit at first but had the idea of Danny throwing apricots at Danny- using the plant literally for once! Luckily the ficlet found it's way. (Ty Moku for letting me bounce ideas off of you.)

Danny/Duke, Blue, Sage

Angst that I had to make different from the other angst with these two! I leaned into the other worldliness of orchids and their bright bold colors... and what that could mean as a ghost.

Danny/Zatanna, Orange, Amaryllis Belladonna

Sleep. Sage is nice and fuzzy so first take away was the texture, but it's also an herb and so we got to sick fic! Just a soft little moment for these two and a little gator.

Danny (Phantom) & Captain Marvel, Green, Wildflowers

Trick or treat. Well, I had to do a magic show with that topic. The flowers are very soft so wanted something sappy. But with the name belladonna, even if it's not those belladonnas, had to have tiny bit of a threat or mystery.

Danny/Jason, Red, Bonsai

Eldritch. Wildflowers made me think of an uncontrollable Phantom and what would cause that and, well, look I know this isn't the angst color but... combined with the prompter very specifically using Phantom and Capetian Marvel it seemed to fit.

Danny/Jason, Blue, Sunflowers

Fight! I was first thinking of a mistaken identity brawl, but that didn't fit bonsai at all. Then I thought it needed to be delicate, but if you've ever watched a master work with bonsai, they are anything but delicate. So then we got to this metaphor!

Danny/Bart, Green, Dahlia

Sleepy. Gonna be honest here, sunflowers = sun was where my brain went right away lol. I also wanted an overall happy and playful feel!

Eldritch. Dahlia are the orbs of flowers that are fractal so a biblically accurate Danny seemed like a place to go! I like to think thanks to time travel Bart and Danny had different first meetings with each other, and none of it in the current time.

Danny/Jason, Violet, Forget-me-not

Angst. How could I not do a death scene with for forget-me-nots? Moku and I had chatted more about the apricot one, and Danny visiting the grave, so I felt this had to tie into that! At least this way you all know it has a happy end?

#dp x dc #multiship #prompalomp

[a-pigeons-soliloquy]

oouugghhh hannigram either 7 or 45. maybe even combine the two.

ok so it has been. a while. this one got, uh, more than a little out of control lmao (almost 3500 words holy fuck). but it's finally finished! i'm not sure if it exactly fits the prompts anymore but i tried to combine them both :) i hope you like it! (even if it did just end up as yet another mizumono fic lol oops)

***

"You were supposed to leave," Will hisses, and his voice is a devastated, furious thing.

There is blood soaking into his shoes and the scent of iron hangs heavy in the air, and the worst part is that Will doesn't even know whose blood it is anymore, but the question is lost to the back of his mind. Because in front of him stands a dishevelled man whose shirt is a mess of shiny red stains, a knife dripping in his hand.

A man who isn’t supposed to be there at all.

"I didn't want to leave without seeing you one last time," Hannibal says. The words one last time should be ringing alarm bells in Will's head, but he can’t hear them over the overwhelming chorus of thousands of other alarms, because everything is going wrong. There is blood on the floor and on the walls and Alana and Jack lie dying among shards of glass, and there is a SWAT team likely only minutes away, and yet Hannibal is still here.

They both are.

And now Will doesn’t know what to do, hasn’t known what to do for the last 3 months and hadn’t known what he’d do next when he’d made that phone call, telling the Chesapeake Ripper that they know. All he’d known was that he didn’t want Hannibal to die, didn’t want him locked up in a cage by his own hands. But here he is, faced with the consequences of his own actions, and once again Will doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to feel, or even what he is feeling beyond the adrenaline and desperation and horror and relief and confusion. He doesn’t want to feel the overwhelming guilt and sense of responsibility that has been steadily building behind his ribs since this whole scheme began. Yet that guilt now tears at the lining of his chest and crushes his lungs and holds his throat in a chokehold, and it’s just all too much and all he can think is none of this was supposed to happen and this is all my fault and what if?

Seeing Hannibal alive, he’d been struck by a sudden wave of relief that had almost caused his knees to give out beneath him. But now, as Hannibal’s eyes meet his, the awful look that greets him makes a pit suddenly form in his stomach, and the relief gives way to guilt again. And Will can’t take it.

None of this was supposed to happen.

This is all my fault.

What if?

And then it hits him: none of this was supposed to happen. And it hadn’t needed to. This awful mess of glass and blood and ruin could have all been avoided if Hannibal had just listened. If he’d trusted Will when he’d picked up the phone with shaky fingers and told him to run. But he hadn't. And this realisation comes with a sick sense of understanding, because for the whole time Will had known him, Hannibal had always had to have something hidden up his sleeve, always had to keep secrets from Will. Always had to know better. Feel superior. At last the final veil falls from Will's eyes, and all at once he can see how foolish he'd been to ever believe that they could be equals. How pathetic it was that, for those few long weeks they'd spent together, he'd actually believed that they were.

(Will fiercely forces back the voice in his head that whispers that he hadn’t exactly given Hannibal a reason to trust him.)

Heart hammering against his ribs, all of that guilt and fear melts together and stretches and twists and is reborn as deep, righteous anger.

Because no, all he’d wanted was for Hannibal to be safe and free and far from here, even if it meant Hannibal hated him, even if it meant they could never be together, even if it meant that one day Hannibal would come back and rip his still-beating heart from his chest without remorse. But instead here they are, highly armed police likely mere minutes out. And all because Hannibal hadn’t listened. Bitterly, Will thinks to himself that maybe he couldn’t change Hannibal in this way after all.

As if hearing the war cry of bitterness and anger, the resentment he’d kept locked away over the last year begins to bay and claw at its cage too, and, with no reason left to hold it back, Will finally opens the latch and lets it loose.

His next words come out as a growl. “Well now neither of us might get to leave at all”.

Hannibal looks at him, and before he can hide any emotion behind his mask Will can see surprise and deep betrayal warring behind his eyes. It should make him stop and consider, that surprise - that indication that he is behaving in a way that Hannibal did not quite anticipate. But the look of betrayal is like a knife to his chest, and so Will grips his resentment tightly and fumes.

What had Hannibal expected? For Will to be small, desperate? Cowering? Begging for forgiveness? His lip curls in derision. As if he would give him the satisfaction. No, mongooses have teeth and claws, and may whatever god he believes in help Hannibal if he thinks Will won’t use them.

Hannibal manages to force the emotion all behind a mask of icy indifference, and now when he looks at Will his gaze is blank. Though it is not his usual blankness which Will has become familiar with. It is an empty, unsettling kind of blank, the sort of blank he’s only ever seen in the eye of a shark. When Hannibal speaks his voice is cold, colder than Will has ever heard it.

"Forgive me for having doubts about the sincerity of your warning when you've been lying to me for the last month. Forgive me for wanting to see the truth of where your loyalties lie."

The acknowledgement is agony. All the guilt Will had been trying to force down suddenly rears its monstrous head again, and he finds his voice suddenly drying up. His throat feels tight.

He whispers. "My loyalties lie with you'

Hannibal only scoffs. It is ugly. Will has never seen Hannibal ugly before.

"A last minute change of heart is hardly loyalty, Will," he says. “What does Uncle Jack think of your loyalty, lying bleeding out in my pantry? Alana, shattered on the street? How can I be sure you do not still intend for me to join them?”

Hannibal takes a step towards him, adjusting his grip on the knife. Will’s heart pounds. He forces himself not to take a step back.

“Because I chose you, Hannibal, I was always going to choose you, I just needed time to accept that.”

But Hannibal just looks away. “If that is what you truly believe, then you haven't just been lying to me, you've also been lying to yourself.”

It’s so wrong, yet Hannibal had said it with such certainty and disdain that all Will sees is the arrogance with which Hannibal always assumes himself to be right. He dares to presume to know what Will is thinking better than Will knows himself? It turns out Hannibal Lecter really is just like every other psychiatrist Will has ever met, and a sense of grief rises up within him at the loss of something he’d never thought he could have until meeting Hannibal.

He hates himself for mourning what he shouldn’t want.

Will smothers the voice in his head whispering that Hannibal may in fact be correct, that he really does know Will's mind better than Will does his own. Instead he lets anger take over again, and this time it burns.

“You know nothing,” he hisses. His hands shake. Deep waves of indignant resentment roll over him, the roaring of the waves matching the blood in his ears.

He doesn’t know what he expects Hannibal to do next, but it isn’t for Hannibal to hum to himself, then huff a mirthless laugh and concede in a tone both melancholy and angry, “Perhaps you’re right.”

Once again Hannibal meets his eyes. “You know, I've never fully been able to predict you, Will, but this time I had hoped. It is a mistake I will not make again.”

He prowls closer still, and this time Will steps forward to meet him. Fight has won over flight and as the rising fury makes it hard to find words Will’s body seems to have decided to speak for him. The ticking clock of the impending arrival of the FBI ignored in favour of the burning, all-consuming rage within him.

But the fear of their time running out is still there, forced down as it is, and between that and the anger it’s only getting harder to think, and Hannibal is only making it worse. Every word that leaves his mouth brings fresh waves of intense emotion and it’s rapidly reducing Will to a state where there is nothing in his brain except pure animalistic rage-fear.

He just needs Hannibal to stop talking for one moment so he can think.

With what little coherent thought remains in his brain, Will decides to tell Hannibal in the only way he can manage anymore.

“For once in your life can you please just shut the fuck up”.

Hannibal's eyes flash dangerously. His lips curl up into a snarl, and the part of Will that still understands anything knows that he’s made a mistake - he’s only succeeded in confirming for Hannibal exactly how his words are affecting him, and getting him to stop now won’t be achieved without consequences.

Hannibal is quick to recover, a cruel grin taking over his face. His head tilts condescendingly. “Terribly rude, Will,’ he taunts.

The fire inside Will soars higher. He can feel it scorching his insides.

“Fuck you, Hannibal.” He spits.

Hannibal begins to loom over him, moving closer still in a manner that can only be called predatory, until all that separates them is an arm’s length. The knife still glistens in his hand.

“Is that all you have to say for yourself, Will? Childish comebacks? I’ve come to expect better from you. I'm disappointed.” There is a gleam of self-satisfied malice in his eyes and the shape of his lips. He looks dangerous. He looks beautiful.

Will hates him.

Will loves him.

Fuckyoufuckyoufuck-

And suddenly Will can’t take it any longer.

Before he knows what he is doing, he’s grabbing Hannibal by the bloody shirt and crashing his lips into his.

Time seems to stop, the world narrowing into a millisecond of time in which Hannibal’s hair brushes against Will’s forehead, breath warm against his mouth, their noses pressed almost painfully against each other. A moment where the cooling blood on Hannibal’s shirt soaks into Will’s palms and stains his fingers red. A moment where Hannibal stands deadly still, as if frozen, and Will feels as if he’s been frozen too.

There is a distant pressure in the corner of Will’s abdomen, then the vague sound of something clattering to the ground. But Will’s lips are on Hannibal’s and it is as if everything everywhere is inconsequential other than the feeling of Hannibal’s teeth against his, just as he’d imagined on so many a lonely night.

The moment seems to last an eternity before Hannibal’s hand finally comes up to grasp the back of his shirt tightly, and Will feels the sharp pull of the fabric against his skin, the pressure of Hannibal’s knuckles firm against his flank. A breathy gasp escapes his burning lips, and he can’t help the animal noise that subsequently tears its way from his throat. Luckily it seems that is what it takes for Hannibal to finally move his mouth and kiss back with equal force, teeth scraping sharply against Will’s. They gravitate closer and closer until Will’s arm is wrapped around Hannibal’s neck and their hips are pressed tightly together.

Eventually, Hannibal lets out a deep growl before he at last pulls away, dragging Will backwards until there is an arm’s distance between them. Will’s eyes flutter open and he gazes up at Hannibal. The adrenaline is still coursing through his veins and setting him alight, but this time it is not with anger but something wholly new.

As they lock eyes, Will realises that Hannibal is finally allowing Will to see, without barriers or veils, the full breadth of emotion in his eyes. There is still frustration and betrayal, yes (indeed, Will hadn’t let go of his either) but there is also - and Will’s heart skips a beat when he recognises it - pure and all-encompassing adoration. A wonderful warmth blossoms within his core, rendering him both weak and solid and light as a feather, and it is unlike anything Will can ever remember feeling.

He wonders if this is what it’s like to be loved.

Then those wonderful, expressive maroon eyes flicker downwards, and Hannibal’s brow furrows, lines around his eyes deepening. Confused, Will follows his gaze, and is surprised to see a growing deep red stain on his shirt, though any reaction he distantly thinks he perhaps should be having is dulled and seems to float just out of reach. It’s strange; there isn’t any pain, just the memory of an odd pressure that he’d ignored at the time and a peculiar sense of unreality.

For a moment he just stands, uncomprehending, but as the adrenaline finally starts to wear off he becomes increasingly aware of a dull ache at the site of the wound, and it isn’t long before that dull ache blossoms into a terrible burning pain. Hand instinctively falling from Hannibal’s shoulder to hover protectively over the wound, Will looks back up at Hannibal, a mix of confusion, surprise, pain and betrayal written across his face. An involuntary whine slips from his suddenly dry throat.

The vocalisation appears to spur Hannibal into action. He takes Will gently but firmly by the arms and quickly guides him to a nearby sofa, helping him lay down across its seats before sinking to his knees beside him and pulling up his shirt to inspect the injury. A moment passes, then a near-imperceptible line of tension seems to drop slightly from Hannibal’s shoulders and he pulls Will’s shirt back down.

“It is as I thought: due to the angle and the quick loosening of my grip on the handle, only the tip of my knife entered your body. The wound is not so deep as to require immediate attention, but it will certainly require stitches.”

He guides Will’s hand back to his injury and helps him to apply the right amount of pressure. It hurts, and when Will winces and lets out small pained noise, Hannibal brings a hand to his hair and cards it through the damp curls. It feels nice, it feels so very nice and right, and Will’s eyes slip closed for a moment, enjoying the feeling. When he opens them, Hannibal is looking down at him, face once again carefully blank.

“There is likely very little time left before the FBI arrives,” he begins, “and I will soon be leaving for Florence. I will offer you this once and only once, and you will have until I return with our passports and a select few other items to make your decision.”

He fixes Will with a heavy look. “One last chance, Will. You can come with me to Florence, and I will show you the city where I became a man. We will leave immediately, take up new identities, and likely never return.

“Or, I can leave you here. You can wait for the cops to arrive and take you to a hospital. Your reputation will remain intact, and you can go back to your job and your house in the woods, your life as you know it, and you will never see me again.”

An almost undetectable pause, and then, “This is your final decision, Will. I suggest you make it wisely.”

With this he climbs to his feet and leaves the room

For a while Will sits thinking, but deep down he knows his mind is already made up. The myriad of complicated feelings he harbours towards Hannibal still plague him, and a part of him still wants to lock the man up and throw away the key, but he’s finally willing to admit that it’s all inconsequential. He knows now he can't live without Hannibal, for better or for worse, whether he loves him or hates him, or a twisted mix of both. He’ll miss his life terribly for the isolated comfort it brought, but he’d miss Hannibal far, far more.

There is only one choice to make.

The moment Hannibal reappears in the doorway Will is speaking.

“I want to come with you.”

Hannibal’s face remains carefully blank. “You understand there is no going back from this. I will not change my lifestyle and you can never return to the false life you have led. You will be shedding your sheepskin for good this time, and the world will be on our tail for as long as we-”

Will cuts him off.

“I want to come with you,” he repeats firmly.

A long pause, and then a small but genuine smile graces Hannibal's lips. With a dip of his head, he seems to accept the decision. “Very well,” he says, though Will can hear the unspoken relief that lies beneath it. He lets himself smile back, tired but overjoyed and honest. It feels right.

Hannibal comes back to where he lies on the couch, and helps him get up, his touch firm yet gentle as he holds Will against his side.

“Do you think you can walk?” he asks.

Will’s breath catches as the shift to being upright pulls sharply on his wound. While it could have been far deeper - and Will doesn’t want to imagine what Hannibal’s initial plan for him was - it is still painful, and increasingly so as the last of the adrenaline wears off. Plus, he’s losing a fair amount of blood, and the change in angle temporarily darkens his vision and sends stars dancing across his eyes. Grimacing, he closes his eyes and waits for the pounding in his head to stop. Hannibal lets him lean against him, steadfastly taking his weight, and says nothing.

When the stars fade and he feels steadier on his feet, Will considers Hannibal’s question, and after a moment of assessment nods - he’s been shot in the shoulder before, he can handle this - and lets Hannibal lead him out of the house and down the street to an unfamiliar car.

Alana is unconscious now, and Will catches Hannibal’s eyes lingering on his jacket where it lies over her body. He looks at her, the person he’d once imagined sharing a life with, and thinks of how important she had always been to him, even after everything. A pang of bittersweet nostalgia hits him, accompanied by a longing for a simpler time when maybe it could have been possible. But ultimately he allows Hannibal to help him into the passenger seat of the car. This is the life he’s chosen, the person he’s chosen, cannibalism and all. There is no going back now, and nothing to be gained from contemplating what ifs.

Then the car door closes, and Alana is hidden from sight.

There is another noise as Hannibal gets in the car from the other side, and after fiddling with some dials and buttons, he starts the engine.

“I will drive us to the airport where our flight awaits. When we are a safe distance from the house we will stop and I will clean and suture your wound. But for now I suggest you sleep - you will need the rest if you are to recover well.”

He must notice the lines of discomfort on Will’s face, as he adds, softening slightly, “There are some painkillers in the door.”

After taking the pills as directed, Will lays his head back against the headrest and allows his eyes to close. The last of the adrenaline has left his system, leaving behind a sudden bone tiredness that makes his lids heavy and breathing slow.

With the sound of the vehicle lulling him and the comfort of Hannibal’s presence beside him - alive, together - sleep comes quickly, and the last thing Will knows before the darkness claims him is the feeling of a warm hand gently coming to rest upon his own.

#nbc hannibal #hannigram #hannigram fic #hannibal fanfiction #my writing #kiss prompts #gonna say ​abigail is in the backseat of the car but it's dark and will is too tired to notice lol #and they find a way to have all 7 dogs sent to wherever they end up :) #i hope this is decent enough and there aren't any mistakes! #pretty sure everything is capitalised and in the same tense now haha #god this has taken forever #also #this is the first fic i've managed to finish in like 7 years so i'm really proud :) #now to work on my many other wips! #also i hope the formatting is ok! #let me know if it's horrible lol and i'll try to fix it

[applesontheground]

I honestly can’t remember if I’ve actually written out this ask before and either deleted it or sent it out into the universe, but can you write how the Sinclair brothers would react (or just bo😉) to seeing their clumsy s/o try to fix something on a rooftop and accidentally slipping off. Reader laughs it off or maybe they’re slightly hurt and the brothers are like 😑😠 they thought you were hurt! You could have been hurt! I just love that kind of drama lol

oh, i’m a clumsy critter through and through so i feel this one a little too personally. i’d love to indulge it with some sinclair love! ❤ (also, i used the initial prompt for bo’s drabble, but threw in some diff ideas for vin & les! they’re partially anecdotal because as i’ve said, i get myself in jackassery on a weekly basis lol!)

the sinclair brothers & clumsy S/O 🕯️  (gn reader)

SFW | Word Count: 1,495 | The Sinclair Brothers x GN Reader (separate drabbles at ~400-600 words)

It was one drip spattering against your head too many. The remnant of yesterday’s rainstorm making its way through the shingles of the roof where it felt as though it had just done it to irritate you was enough to make you proactive, dropping what you were doing and heading for the back of the house.

You waited until dusk crept its way under the skin of the town and wake its glimmering façade to step out onto the back porch of the Sinclair home with the ladder. Vincent had rummaged it out of the garage without so much else besides an unwaivered stare when you explained what you were planning on doing.

He helped get you going because you weren’t his worry per se. You were Bo’s, which was more insisted on by the latter than something Vincent really agreed to. It was almost scarier than the fact you were about to get up on the roof without running it by him first.

You had just gotten your bearings, clambering up the cold and dusty metal rungs and flattening out against the shingles on your stomach, when you heard the door swing open and the familiar voice start talking, not yet aware there was no one inside to listen to him. You pushed up to stand, the rough slats enough for your soles to find a grip. Still, as you stood upright, your entire frame couldn’t help but rock a little as you felt for your bearings.

Of course, that was what the man had made his way through the house just in time to see when he stepped outside, hearing the scrabbling above his head and half believing he was hearing things before realizing you were in fact up there.

“Hey! Nuh uh!” Bo stepped back, getting a better view at what you were doing. He snapped his fingers to make you look before pointing to the porch in a vicious movement, “Get the fuck down, [Y/N]! The hell’re you doin’?” You paused, finally fumbling back onto your knees and replied, “The roof’s leaking.” You tried to push up to stand again, but the unsure noise soon had the ladder shifting as Bo took matters into his own hands, one foot on the first rung in a matter of seconds.

“Bo, it’s okay-“ You began, but he interrupted in a voice that somehow got meaner as he repeated himself, “[Y/N], said get down, damn it!”

The tone was enough to make you slide towards the gutter, rolling your eyes at first and expecting to be grabbed by him like some sort of unruly pet rather than a [boyfriend/girlfriend/partner]. It was the lack of tugging – rather, the firm settling of his palm against your hip as you started to step down the ladder – that made your attitude fizzle.

“I’ve seen stupid, and I’ve seen clumsy,” Bo muttered, not looking you in the eye but still keeping a hand on your lower back, “But a combination of the two? Lookin’ for a broken leg.” You paused, staring at the side of his face until he finally stopped minding the way you were climbing to look you back in the eye. When one foot touched the porch, he snaked his arm around one of your hips, hoisting you away from the ladder and muttering, “Now don’t give me that, I’m not sayin’ I don’t trust you.”

You scoffed, “Oh, what? Gonna tell me you don’t trust the roof? The ladder?” He froze, and ended the conversation by spinning on his heels, taking your feet off the ground again and making you squeal in surprised laughter. “If anyone’s doin’ that kind of work, it’s me. Got that?”

When he set you on your feet your knees suddenly buckled. He watched in bemusement as you stumbled forward when he let go, and when you only had an embarrassed glance over your shoulder, he muttered, “Yeah. Yeah, that wouldn’t have ended well for anyone around here.” He laughed to himself with another shake of his head, turning away from you.

“Vincent, look at what I found at the flea market. Some-“ You turned away from where your eyes had caught onto the wall, stuck to some well-formed facial structure protruding in a lunge of wax, and were face to face with the back of an unfamiliar head.

“WHOOP-“ You let out an involuntary noise, your entire body flinching out of the way and in a twist of an ankle becoming parallel to the ground. You grasped the cassettes that you had brought to show Vincent for dear life as you went knee-first into the ground, making another silly noise as the air was knocked from you and the rest of your body hitting the floor in a solid thud.

The initial impact was still coursing through you, a prick of agony in your leg as you heard something drop against Vincent’s work desk. He put his hand on the desk, the visible eye straining at you. It maybe took a few good seconds before you noticed the slight wobbling of his sturdy frame, and the quiet snort that he quickly tried to muffle with an arm over his stone still mouth. Your jaw dropped in an exaggerated gesture, elbows pushing up to support you better as you jutted your neck at him and asked, “Are you laughing at me?”

He shook his head, turning away from you to get his bearings before doing anything else. You scoffed, slapping your hand against the floor in a one-armed shrug. “Hey, it was either that or I mess up your hard work.” You then gave a forlorn glance to the…person standing beside you.

He finally turned back around, sauntering over to hold his hand down. At a closer range, you could hear the quiet giggles from behind the mask. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh at your clown.” You muttered, and he finally paused to dust your shoulder off.

“…That it?” You asked, and even with the ingrained moment’s hesitation before doing it, he then pushed the delicate edge of his own mask up before giving you a peck on the cheek, a hand finally starting to move, you put on a great show here and again.

The second noise of exasperation just broke the giggles out a second time, its own encore as he wrapped his arms around you, finally noticing what you had dropped and nodding at them in a mute question.

“Oh, yeah!” You grinned, “Those!”

It wasn’t until you were well in the middle of the stream, water dappling your exposed ankles as it trickled past, that you wondered if there was a reason in particular Lester had sent you to cross the wash-out first today.

“Mind the water now, rose overnight. Makes the rocks slippery as shit.” He called, but just as you had registered what he had said you took another step on a promising rock, and your heel skidded out from under you. Lester gasped as you fell back first into the water, the world falling silent and murky as even your head was pulled under.

Just as soon as it happened, you were finding your bearings and immediately pushing back out over the surface, arms flailing as you regained balance. “I’m okay!” You hollered, turning to stand in the rushing water on your knees, uncaring to the way your entire outfit was now soaked and you had to be at an angle alongside the current. You heaved yourself up, and what seemed like an entire pitcher’s worth of water came up with you in the form of soaked clothes and hair as you beamed in a dopey manner to the man still on land, not sure whether to laugh or scold you.

“The hell you are. Didn’t ya hear me?” He finally decided on the latter, throwing his hands up at the display in front of him. You replied with an exasperated strain to your voice, “Sure, but you forget I’m not a good listener.” He neared the shore as you waded closer, helping pull the sopping mess back to his side of the wash-out.

“Well. Think it’s more of a luck thing than a stupid thing.” He began, but as you gave him a daring glance he corrected himself, “Not sayin’ anything, now let me help ya out.” He took both of your wrists as you broke from the current, stumbling onto the land and bracing his own forearms to steady yourself.

“First person that makes bein’ a dope look cute.” He commented as you stood a little straighter, but when you only gave him another astounded expression he muttered, “Gon’ be quiet for a little bit.”

You scoffed at that, careening into him and making him flinch from the cold water soaking into his shirt as you lassoed your arms around his torso. “Never want you to be quiet.” You murmured, giving him a kiss as he finally figured a little water wouldn’t kill him.

#bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #slasher x reader #requests #slasher requests #slasher fanfiction #✏️ #🕯️ #anon corner #THIS WAS SO FUN I MISSED MY BOYS

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Downfall (pt 2/2)

See? I didn’t lie, part 2 is here and it’s only...11:00PM Sunday night lol. Wow guys, this part got long (like 3.5k words long. Oops.) and *sappy*. But, you know what I love about snz fic? We always give the people what they want. You see a smoking gun in act 1 you best believe it’s going off in act 3. Lmao. Also, I’m sorry if there’s continuity/grammar/spelling errors, I’ll read it through again in the morning and fix them I just can’t do it tonight haha.

Anyway! Hope you guys like the second part.

cw: Male, colds, contagion, mess, there is a passing-out moment in here as well. Shit gets wild lol. This part is heavily inspired by 3 prompts in my inbox, so if you sent a prompt it’s probably featured here!

Downfall - Pt 2

When Elijah opened his eyes Friday morning, he nearly cried in relief; after three full days of feeling like death, he finally, finally felt like he was on the other side of this shit.

The past two days had been a nightmare. After Greyson had called him Tuesday night and told him that not one but two other managers had gone down, Elijah had to mentally prepare himself for a full week of work with one of the worst colds he’d ever endured. He’d walked into the kitchen Wednesday morning stuffed to the gills with dayquil, cough syrup, and ibuprofen; a combination he was sure was actively taking years off of his life. Greyson was already hard at work, despite the fact that Elijah knew he’d been at the restaurant until well after midnight the night before.

“He lives!” Greyson said, throwing his arms up as though Elijah had just scored the winning goal for their nonexistent soccer team. “You look god-awful, and I’m so glad you’re here!”

Elijah coughed out a laugh, and Greyson lead them both into the office. “So, here’s the deal,” Greyson said as they both sat. “I told both Matt and Mark to stay home til Saturday – just to make sure they don’t infect anyone else. I closed the books at 50 covers tonight and tomorrow – and I know, it’s barely enough to cover labor, but we’re in survival mode here, so don’t give me that look. I got in at six, most of my prep for the evening is done, so I figured when we open I can throw on a button down and help on the floor while you expo back here during the rush. Does that all work for you?”

The GM blinked, blindsided. He knew Greyson was good in a shit situation, but damn; the kid should’ve been a fighter pilot or an ER doctor. “Yeah,” Elijah said, “sounds great, Grey.”

So that’s what they’d done. Both Wednesday and Thursday. Elijah had holed up in the office until the servers needed him for preshift, and Greyson had prepared his cooks for two weird nights of Elijah expoing. Service had been moderately slow both evenings, which would’ve been great, if it hadn’t allowed Elijah to hyper-focus on his lingering symptoms and Greyson to flit and fret over him every time he stepped into the kitchen.

“Do you need anything, Lij? Water? Tea? Meds?” The constant stream of mother-henning had eventually worn on everyone, and even Greyson’s cooks had finally said, “Chef, he’s fine.”

But they had gotten through it. Elijah had sneezed and coughed and cursed his way through garnishing dishes, and Greyson had awkwardly talked to tables until finally the week was nearly over. And now it was Friday, one day til the big wedding, and Elijah was finally, finally feeling better.

Elijah walked in at 9AM to a thankfully-empty kitchen; he’d told Greyson the night before to sleep in, prepare himself for the weekend, take some Emergen-C and be absolutely sure he wasn’t going to succumb to the rot Elijah had brought in, but he was surprised that the chef had actually listened to him. The GM placed his things down in their empty office and took a breath; it was going to be okay. Mark and Matt would be back for the wedding, they would be relatively slow tonight, and Saturday would be perfect. Manifest it, Lij, he said to himself, sitting at the desk and turning the computer on. Manifest it.

After an hour or so of paperwork, Elijah heard the back doors open as Greyson let himself in. The GM pushed away from the computer and cracked his neck, anticipating the usual barrage of word vomit Greyson was wont to spew out the moment he walked into the restaurant. “Morning, Chef,” he called out before even seeing Greyson, marveling at how much clearer his voice was today. Fuck that fucking cold.

Greyson stepped into the office and silently saluted his boss, a Starbucks cup adorning each of his hands. “Hey, boss,” he said, placing one in front of Elijah and one next to his own computer. The chef didn’t sit down; instead, he took off his hoodie, grabbed a clean coat from the back of his chair, and buttoned it up before snagging his drink and heading into the kitchen. Elijah swung himself around in his chair, dumbstruck.

“That’s it?” he asked, watching Greyson unpack his knives a few feet away. “‘Hey, boss’? No big gameplan? No huddle to discuss the week’s insanity? No bombardment of questions regarding my health?” Greyson huffed out a laugh, but Elijah wasn’t having it. “You didn’t even tell me what you got me to drink,” he said, holding up the mystery cup.

Greyson raised an eyebrow at his boss and bit back a smile. “It’s a chai,” he said, bemused. Elijah threw his hands up, flustered.

“The amount that that doesn’t address 90% of my questions is truly amazing,” he said, taking a long sip of his drink, which – certainly wasn’t a chai. The hell was that?

“I don’t know what second-rate Starbucks you stopped at, Chef, but this is definitely not a chai,” Elijah said, pushing the cup towards the door. “What is that? It’s like...something lemon.”

Greyson colored a bit and picked up his own cup to look at the sticker. “Ah, fuck,” he mumbled, striding back into the office and switching their cups. “Sorry ’bout that. I switched the cups.”

“What is it?” Elijah asked, his face seemingly stuck in a mask of disgust. “So that I can remember to never order it.”

Greyson rolled his eyes. “Have you ever ordered something from Starbucks that wasn’t a chai?” he asked, sipping his drink. Elijah shrugged and turned towards that computer again.

“Fair enough,” he said, waking the screen by shaking the mouse. He turned to Greyson again when the floorplan popped up on his screen. “Can we take a quick look at tonight together? Since Matt and Mark are still out? Do you think we should cut the covers off now, or go to 75?” Elijah squinted, his face nearly touching the screen in concentration. After a few moments of silence, he peeled himself away from the monitor to glance at the chef, who was – the fuck was he doing?

“The fuck are you doing?” Elijah asked, snapping Greyson out of his trance. The chef had been turned almost all the way around, facing the kitchen. Clearly he hadn’t heard a word Elijah said.

“Huh? Shit, sorry boss. Lost in thought,” Greyson said, turning back toward the GM. “Uhh… 75. Yeah, that looks good,” he finished, lamely. Elijah raised his eyebrows.

“What’s your problem today?” he asked, though not with malice. Greyson chuckled.

“Just got a lot on my mind, boss,” he said. “Big weekend. Week’s been long. I need to get back to prep, if that’s okay.” Elijah gave Greyson another look, but nodded after a moment and shooed him out. Greyson smiled at his boss, held his cup out in a false ‘cheers’. “I’ll be prepping in the back kitchen if you need me,” he said, and disappeared past the line into the back.

It wasn’t Elijah’s fault, he reasoned with himself later, that he hadn’t seen through the ruse. He’d just barely gotten over a monster of a cold; he was himself busy and stressed; it was early and he hadn’t had enough caffeine. He couldn’t be expected to decode what was wrong with Greyson every time the kid acted weird. However, he couldn’t help but kick himself when he finally realized – thirty minutes before service – what the weird-tasting drink the chef had gotten himself was. Aptly named, of course, and something Elijah himself had only had once before, courtesy of Greyson himself.

A medicine ball. Greyson had gotten himself a medicine ball.

***

He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to keep this up, but it certainly wasn’t going to be through tomorrow’s wedding.

Greyson sat down, fully clothed, on the toilet and put his head in his hands for the third time that day. The fact that Elijah hadn’t noticed at this point was a mix of pure dumb luck and more sudafed than a human person should ever in their life consume. He assumed the former would begin to run out soon, as the latter had hours ago.

“Huhh...HNGSTH! NTSH! ITZSH! Fuck – HNGTSZHUE! Goddamn it.”

Greyson pulled a length of toilet paper from the roll and blew his nose until it made him cough. He checked his watch as he threw the toilet paper into the trashcan next to him – 9:15PM. When he’d stepped into this bathroom, dodging Elijah as he locked the door, all but one of the tables had left. He’d go back to the line, he’d tell Leo, his grill cook who’d been there nearly as long as he had, to check that everyone had cleaned thoroughly, and he’d sneak out the back before Elijah could question him.

And then what? Greyson asked himself as he stood and washed his hands. You somehow make a miraculous recovery between now and tomorrow morning? Have you seen how this shit took down Elijah, Mark, and Matt?

Greyson ignored the voice in his head and dried his hands. He assumed Elijah hadn’t noticed because they were both wildly busy before service, and once service had started, they were both worn thin being the only managers in their departments for the third day in a row. Greyson had managed to keep the congestion out of his voice with the aforementioned sudafed, and he had taken his happy ass to the bathroom or out back to ‘smoke’ when he really needed to sneeze or cough all night. Elijah had definitely given him some looks through the evening, but nothing Greyson couldn’t brush off by pulling a ticket distractedly and not making eye contact.

Tomorrow, though? When Matt and Mark were both going to be back, and they were all going to be prepping their asses off for the wedding? He genuinely had no idea what he was going to do to keep them from noticing.

Greyson exited the bathroom, stealthily managing to avoid his boss as he slipped into the kitchen. He gathered his things, put Leo in charge, and was nearly out the door, nearly safe, when -

“Chef!” Elijah called behind him, making him freeze in his tracks just outside the back door. Fuck.

“Yeah, boss?” Greyson asked, turning to face Elijah and hoping he didn’t look like the garbage fire he felt. Elijah crossed his arms over his chest in the cold of the alleyway and motioned to Greyson’s entire being.

“You leaving?” he asked tapping his foot. Greyson managed a smile and lifted his backpack and knife bag a little for inspection.

“Is it obvious?” he asked, quietly clearing his throat to mask the gravel of his voice. Elijah didn’t say anything for a few moments.

“Leo shutting down the line?” he asked. Greyson nodded, swallowing around a throat on fire.

“Yeah,” he said. “Did you uh…ndeed something from mbe?” Fuck.

Elijah gave Greyson a pointed look. “Grey,” he said, voice low. “If you’re sick, you need to tell me. Now.”

Greyson felt his cheeks redden, but he immediately shook his head. “I’mb good,” he said, cursing once again the congestion that had sneaked into his voice. “Promise. I gotta go, I’mb gonna mbiss mby train.” Without missing a beat, the chef turned around and headed towards the street, hoping his boss couldn’t see him stifle nearly ten sneezes into his fist as he walked.

This was not going to end well.

***

It was worse than Elijah could have even imagined.

When Elijah walked into the restaurant that morning, the first thing he did was text Greyson.

9:01AM

Hey. I’m here, is there anything you want me to pull out/start on before you get in?

9:01AM

Also, how are you feeling?

Normally, he’d get a response in moments; when Greyson wasn’t at work, the man was glued to his phone, playing some stupid game or messaging one of his fifty Bumble suitors he kept on the line at all times. I get bored, he often said to Elijah. One starts annoying me, BOOM! Onto the next.

Today, though, nearly twenty minutes passed before Elijah’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out immediately and couldn’t help but wince at the text the chef sent.

9:18AM

great. no. ill be there in 20.

Anyone who texted with Greyson more than once in their life knew that if he wasn’t being his multi-exclamation-point, constant-joke-and-lol self over text, he was probably close to death. Elijah typed out an ‘ok’ to the chef, before making a thread with Matt and Mark.

9:31AM

Elijah

Hey, guys. Just making sure you’re both on your way in. Greyson’s gonna be down bad. Need all hands on deck asap.

9:32AM

Mark

???? is he ok??? down bad in what way?

9:33AM

Matt

ya, coming now. figured chef would’ve gone down by now. should I bring anything?

9:34AM

Elijah

Just your stamina. Gonna be a long day. Thx.

9:34AM

Mark

no one answered my ?

im so confused

oh

OH

shit, I knew I got greyson sick. fuuuuuuuuck. sorry, boss :(

9:35AM

Elijah

All good. Inevitable. Let’s just get this day done.

Elijah clicked his phone off and sighed. He could go for a whiskey, or even just a long, drawn out scream about now, but a cigarette and a prayer would have to do him. Twelve hours until the wedding was over.

***

How Greyson managed to make it to work was anyone’s guess, him included.

The chef pushed through the back doors and before he could even get past the prep kitchen he was doubled over, sneezing into the sleeve of his hoodie.

“HhhIGSTZH-ue! HuhESHHH-ue! HRRTSCHZUE! NGTSHZUE! Christ, fuck,” Greyson muttered, wiping his nose on his sleeve for what he could only wish he could say was the first time that morning. He cleared his throat, which was for naught since he could barely speak, and continued his trudge into the main kitchen.

When Greyson had made it home last night, he told himself he’d be able to continue to hide his burgeoning illness. He thought maybe more medicine, some Vick’s, and a good night’s sleep would give him the upper hand against it. He’d told himself he was stronger than his coworkers, that his immune system wouldn’t fail him on one of the most important days of his career.

Oh, how the mighty will fall.

“HhNGTSHHZUE! ITSZH-uhh! Fuuuuck,” Greyson moaned, stumbling into the thankfully-empty office and yanking a handful of tissues from the box on the desk. He wiped his nose, unwilling to unleash the volley of sneezes he knew would be behind a nose blow, and pressed his palms into his eyes to try and relieve some of the pressure. Who the fuck gets a cold this fucking bad, Elijah, he wondered silently.

As if conjured, Greyson felt his phone buzz with a text from his boss.

10:07AM

Bless. That sounds fucking awful.

Could a guy not get a moment’s peace in this fucking place?

10:08AM

i should call the cdc’s biohazard unit on u for unleashing this shit onto us.

An admission, but what else was he supposed to do? Elijah could hear him in the dining room. The game was over. Greyson put his head back into his hands until he heard his boss’s footsteps click into the kitchen.

“...chef?” Elijah asked, and Greyson wearily lifted his head.

“Mornding,” Greyson croaked, before turning to the side to cough, crackly and painful-sounding, into his sleeve. He felt something get placed on the desk next to him, and when he finally was able to compose himself he saw it was a Starbucks cup. Greyson smiled, weary.

“Chai?” he asked, picking up the cup. Elijah huffed out a laugh.

“Something like that,” he said, moving to sit next to Greyson. “Now, hear me out. I think I have a gameplan.”

***

At five o’clock, Elijah finally went to rouse the man of the hour with a knock on the office door.

“Chef,” he said, trying to wake Greyson as gently as possible. “Grey. We need you for plate-up.” Greyson nodded blearily and, with the help of both Matt and Elijah, managed to get to his feet.

It had been an interesting day for sure. Elijah’s plan had been for Greyson to try and help with some of the more intricate parts of prep in the morning, and then lay down from noon until it was go time, but that had proved nearly impossible.

Greyson had managed to prep for about three minutes at a time before dissolving into nasty coughing fits that lasted minutes at a time, or absolutely relentless bouts of -

“HTSHH-ue! HRSHH-ue! Hhuhh…NGTSHZUE! ITSZHUE! Huhh-ETSHZCH-oo!”

“Christ, boss,” Matt said, attempting a laugh after a particularly intense fit of sneezes, “When you go down you really go – oh, fuck.” In teasing his boss, Matt nearly missed Greyson’s eyes rolling back into his head and his knees buckling as he lost consciousness for a moment. “ELIJAH!” Matt called, catching his boss and lowering him to the ground as gracefully as possible.

Once they’d managed to get Greyson back to a standing position, Elijah had decided it was too risky to let him continue to be...vertical. Greyson had laid out for Matt exactly what he needed him to do to finish preparing the food, and retreated to the blanket fort they had all heavily utilized this week for a sleep that more closely resembled a coma than anything restorative.

Matt, Elijah, and even Mark had managed to finish the prep Greyson had worked so hard on that week by four PM. Once they felt ready, the three of them gathered in front of the office to stare at the racked-out chef.

“Should we… ask him if everything looks okay?” Mark had asked, ringing his hands. Matt and Elijah exchanged a look before Elijah shook his head.

“I think… I think he’ll be okay with just about anything at this point,” Elijah said. The other two nodded, unwilling to take this precious moment of sleep away from the chef.

When the guests were all seated and ready for first courses, it was, of course, Elijah’s job to wake the sleeping bear. Greyson, ever the trooper, took his place at the pass and regarded the three of them with all the pride he could muster.

“Thangk you guys. Really,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Ndow. Let’s get this shit over w – HGSTHH-ue! Snrf. Guhh,” Greyson held tight to the granite counter top and pulled himself back to his full height.

“Let’s get this done,” he said, pulling out his tweezers. “And whend it’s over, I’mb ndot answering mby phone for a fuckigg week.”

They all managed a laugh. They all assumed their positions for plating and running food. This certainly wasn’t the glamorous job it was portrayed in the movies, but they did have something all that media never seemed to truly capture; they had each other, and this place that all of them thought of as not a second, but a true home.

Greyson cleared his throat as the first of the servers came through the doors, bearing labeled sheets with seat numbers. “Order in!” he called, and they all put their heads down and began their work.

#whiskeyswriting #snz #snz fet #snez #snzfic #sniction #sickfic #coldfic #male cold #original charater #m cold #oc sickfic #snzblr #aight im going to bed lol i feel like a teenager again up late writing snz fic christ ive regressed lmaoooo

[anotherbluesunday]

✨WIP Tag Game✨

I’m definitely checking you’re fic out @michiganstray because you got me hooked! Thank you for tagging me too! I’m super excited to share this teaser with everyone. 💜💜💜

Alrighty, first Tag Game of the new year and y’all picked a good time because I’m writing the epic close to my ficlet Myth. Like I’ve said before, this story was inspired by a string of prompts, the rain, and a song. The final chapter name “Myth” captures all the more intense lyrics of the Beach House song, namely these six lines: “If you built yourself a myth, you’d know just what to give?”, “Can’t keep hanging on, to what is dead and gone.”, and “Materialize, or let the ashes fly!” I don’t want to give away too much. I want this final chapter to be emotionally and mentally cathartic for all who read it because the goal is to make you feel. What that means to you is up to you and your heart. But I want it to be something that leaves you all feeling your humanness pulsing through you like a current.

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Now, here’s the snippet.

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I didn't want to remember but I would and this alone felt like a death sentence.

So I kept it to myself. Fell in this spiral that was less like a swan dive and more like the aftermath of a mid-air collision. I gave Wednesday bits here and there to keep her floating in calm waters because she had no place navigating this wasteland with me. It was dishonest especially considering how we had promised to always tell each other when something was wrong. But this was where I drew the line. If what I thought had happened was what had actually happened to me then there wasn't any way I could tell her. Not entirely. And even if entirely, not right now. Not while she had millions of other things stacking up on her plate that was already full.

Staring at the wall a moment longer, I could almost make out the form of another. The shape of my tormentor. My accuser. My devil in white. I distinctly remember the color and it being draped in some way on them because it made their red hair stand out. Red hair and red nails. Slowly, this creature was coming out from the shadowed rafters like a reaper and I was lying there in wait as if I were set to die that afternoon. But it wouldn't come and drag me by the throat to my grave just yet. There was too much of this show left for it to do that.

Another minute turned into two turned into thirty until I made myself get up.

Stomach growling and skin and bones feeling particularly exposed to this crippling sense of humanness, I washed up first. Begrudgingly stood under the hot water and rinsed off the perfect combination of Wednesday's sweat and faint traces of her rose body oil. My therapist was quick to warn me of the road this relationship could travel down during our session yesterday. Said that for now it sounded healthy and supportive but that it could devolve into a codependency if we weren't careful. And I understood where Dr. Kinbott was coming from. Could see where there may be mild concern with a watchful eye waiting for the first signs of smoke. But Wednesday and I were conscious of this too.

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Okay, I’m tagging both writers and artists because I want to see some gifsets that are WIP’s or hear what ideas they got for upcoming ones so yeah. lol.

I’m tagging @tastethesetears @remusjohnslupin @mistressvera @wednesdayandherhyde @michiganstray (in the words of Kylo Ren, MORE!) @darling-gemini @broken-everlark @gardenoblues @thelovelybookworm (because I also need more of what you’re cooking)

Happy writing/giffing and tag away!

#tyler galpin #wednesday addams #wyler #weyler #wednesday netflix #wednesday #myth fic #tyler x wednesday #wednesday x tyler #wednesday neflix #netflix wednesday #hunter doohan #jenna ortega #beach house #if you built yourself a myth you’d know just what to give #first sentence tag war #last sentence tag war #first sentance tag game #last sentence tag game #tag game #tag you're it #archive of our own #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 author #ao3 fanfic #beach house band #Bloom Album

[alwaysxlarrie]

you know it’s an alwaysxlarrie fic when ... + 2022 writing self evaluation 

ok so i’m a tiiiiiny bit late to the game, so i’m just combining the two tags lol. thank you to @hellolovers13, @larrysballetslippers, @zannithinks, @lunarheslwt, @brightgolden & @momrryrights for tagging me in the moodboard challenge (that’s what i’m calling it lol). hope everyone enjoys my chaotic moodboard hehe & thank you to @neondiamond, @onlythebravest, @lunarheslwt, @greenblueish, @thedevilinmybrain & @loveislarryislove for tagging me in the self evaluation tag !! here we goooo

for the moodboard we’ve got 2013 larry bc that’s my fav era & how i always imagine them in my fics, football player louis, santa’s sleigh, office space, cute notes on a white board, a clothing rack, new york city & gentle touches. i don’t think i need to say there’s not any specific mood theme going on here for anyone to figure that out LMAO but i did try my best regardless :)

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 9!

2. Word count posted for the year: if i’m counting correctly ..... 93,735 ????

3. Fandoms I wrote for: one direction. i have a fic for the 5sos fandom that i’ve written a few chapters for & was editing it in an ao3 draft but then the page refreshed for some reason & i lost everything & kinda lost steam, so .... maybe it’ll see the light of day next year

4. Pairings: louis/harry, zayn/liam (side pairing), shawn/niall (side pairing)

5. Story with the most…

Kudos: i swear i could give you everything

Bookmarks: also i swear i could give you everything lol

Comments: it’s i swear i could give you everything again LMAO 

Hits: gimme everything you got 

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): i think i’d say either gimme everything you got or i need something, so tell me something new. gimme everything you got bc i put a lot of my personal experience (give or take) into it & it got such a positive response & that made me super happy. i need something, so tell me something new bc it’s my first ever published fic in general & fic in this fandom.

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why): oooof. prob my sub harry fic. i enjoyed being apart of the fest & i enjoyed the experience, but writing it was so much harder than i’d anticipated & it felt like my writing got very redundant after a few scenes. i’m glad i stuck it out & that i published it, but yeah i def don’t think i did it the justice i’d wanted to.

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received: i’m really enjoying all the reviews/comments i’ve been getting on my cinderella au! it’s my first chaptered fic that i’m posting chapter by chapter, so that’s been really encouraging. but in general, i appreciate all the comments i get. as a small/new writer, i don’t expect to get any comments at all really, so whenever i do, i get excited. there was a comment on my christmas fic santa, won’t you bring me the one i really need? where someone said it was the best christmas fic they’ve ever read :)

9. A time when writing was really, really hard: the sub harry fic lmao. i love service kink harry fics so i was like alright sweet this will be a no brainer & basically, i fucked around & found out. i literally went through like 5 drafts until i finally found a premise that went w the prompt i was using that i felt i could build off of without turning the fic super predictable & dead end. i think if i’d waited to do that type of fic next year & done more research than i’d done for this one, it would’ve gone much better.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: the beginning of my cinderella au -- i’ve been very vocal about the fact that i write only fluff fics to balance out all the angst in our fandom & then i go & write a cinderella fic & make the first two chapters packed w angst LMAO. it’ll turn around soon, but that’s def the biggest one as of yet for me, i think.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing: i’m not sure if i have a favorite tbh, but i like this one from i swear i could give you everything: --------------

“So what have you got for us today, Haz?” Louis asked, knocking on the table with his fists, excitement and anticipation both thrumming through his body.

“Well, I was just messing around in the kitchen last night, really,” Harry began, messing with the hem of his shirt and seemingly determined to continue looking at the floor as he made his way towards the fridge a few feet away from the table Louis was now sitting at. “And then I realized I had the ingredients. So. I just figured. Why not, you know?”

Louis furrowed his eyebrows, trying to piece together what Harry was talking about. All he’d done was ask Harry what he’d made. He guessed the ingredients were relevant to the conversation and he did enjoy listening to Harry talk - even if he really was talking some shit - so he decided to humor him. 

“Oh yeah, sweetheart?” Louis prompted as he placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin on one of his hands.

Harry was apparently too busy rummaging around the fridge to even glance back at him when he responded. Which wasn’t rude, really. Louis just. Wanted to see his eyes, was all.

“Yeah, so like. I thought you might enjoy it. You talk about it a lot, anyway. So I figured, I might as well, if I have the ingredients, you know?” 

“Sure, sure. Absolutely. No point in having all the ingredients if you’re not gonna make a good meal out of it.” Louis had completely lost the plot at this point but was still determined to try for Harry.

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

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: well let’s start w the fact that i began the year convinced i’d remain a reader & beta forever. so the fact that i’ve published one fic, let alone nine, is pretty big in itself lol. aside from that, i’ve gotten more comfortable writing smut & dialogue. before i wrote fics, i only wrote original stories & never included dialogue, so those were my biggest weaknesses when i first started writing fic & they’re still not my strengths yet, but i’ve definitely gotten better, i’d like to think.

13. How do you hope to grow next year: i def want to get more comfortable writing smut & building sexual tension. i want to write longer fics. i want to finish at least 5-10 of the 20 wips i have lol. i’d love to finish all of them, but 5-10 is a good goal. i want to write some different genres like historical, slow burns, etc.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): i have a few! @loveislarryislove is a big one -- if i need help w a metaphor, making sure a sentence sounds right, incorporating tension building touches, brainstorming, honest feedback, etc, annika is my pea in a pod. also @panye, steph is so lovely & helpful when it comes to brainstorming, talking out what phrasing sounds better, she tells me what needs fixing & how to fix it; basically, she’s the better half of our shared brain cell. @zanniscaramouche is pretty much the reason i feel as comfortable as i do writing smut. she’s patient, she gives examples, she’s kind, she knows just how to change wording around to make a description or dialogue top tier. @justanothershadeofblue, is my sprinting buddy (along with zanni when our schedules align!). having a daily sprinting buddy who cheers you on is delightful, especially when they’re as supportive & willing to get sidetracked in off topic convos w me as zjo!

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: gimme everything you got is based on personal experience in terms of the stigmas that come w female masturbation / women being shamed for exploring their bodies. i work in retail, so while that didn’t inspire it’s like i’m powerful with a little bit of tender, it def helped me know bts info lol. lastly, i’ve recently switched my major from psychology to interior design & my minor from interior design to psychology, so i guess my (new) major showed up in you are my destiny (you are the reason that i still believe). hostile work environment was also inspired by my retail job as well LMAO. there’s more in my wips tbh, but as for my currently published fics, that’s it, i think!

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: just remember that how ‘popular’ or ‘unpopular’ your fic may be / may get isn’t an indicator of your talent. write something bc you want to write it, not bc you think it’ll appeal to people. take breaks -- if you’re stuck on a scene or sentence, get up & do something else for a bit. if you keep rereading the same sentence over & over, it’s only going to keep sounding more & more scrambled. you’ll work much better with a clear head & will be able to see where the mistakes -- if any -- actually are.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: my cinderella au for sure! i started a fic inspired by one of my fav fics staring across the room by the lovely @allwaswell16 & it’s been put to the side for much longer than i’ve wanted. i initially put it to the side to get more practice writing tension building, but def want to finish it next year. i also finally started the sequel to my girl direction fic, so that as well. & the sequel to my christmas fic lmao. i have lots of things i need to finish 😭😭

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read: i honestly don’t know anyone who hasn’t done or been tagged in either of these yet, but i’ll tag a few anyway lol @lululawrence @thebreadvansstuff @panye @kingsofeverything @voulezloux @infinitelymint @londonfoginacup @twopoppies @littleroverlouis @tommokat @crinkle-eyed-boo @disgruntledkittenface @kingonafiftymetreroad @daggerandrose @homosociallyyours @ireallysawanangel & anyone else who wants to do these!

#tags and challenges #my fics #my writing #fic q&a #finally did it with one day in the year to spare #not counting tomorrow at least lmao #wooooo

[thecrusadercomrade]

Hello! I think your writing and TWDG AUs are the bees knees! They're full of possibilities I had never really considered and I'm glad you both exist! My favorite chapter of your 'What Ifs' fic so far is ch13, where Nick survives! <3

If it's okay, I offer some TWDG What If ideas/prompts.

1: What If - Sophie had successfully escaped the Delta, but without Minerva?

2: What If - Mariana Garcia could also survive Season 3, similarly to Gabe?

3: What If - Any of the kids (older teens and infants included) who died during the events of the game (with the exception/inclusion of Sophie because I am WEAK) survive and possibly group up and travel with Clem (& eventually AJ I guess?) going forward into the future seasons and possibly up until the final season? This leaves a lot of possibilities to do individually, or in any combination (or all at once if you feel like being huffing that writer's hubris lol) which I will list below by Season but feel free to add any you feel fit the bill or that I've missed.

S1: Travis, Duck, Fivel (he counts because he showed up as a walker & dies in the S1 attic in Savannah, his parents either died or abandoned him, willingly or forced, by joining Crawford which didn't allow kids because Social Darwinism bullshit), and Ben Paul.

S2: Michelle (the teen who killed Omid, if you're feeling brave), Omid Jr (Christ & Omid's baby, goes w/ Clem because Christa wouldn't confront bandits while holding an infant, but doesn't drown in the river pls), Sarah, Jane's unnamed baby (Determinant, Jane doesn't have to survive).

S4: Any of the Ericson kids who died (for sure) in S4, so Brody, Marlon, Mitch, and Minerva. (I didn't include Tenn because his death is Determinant in canon).

Idk call this idea 'Congrats, All Orphans' or sumthin, lol. X3

Anyways, I hope these ideas are fun and okay or helpful and thought-provoking in some way. Also, I wish you a wonderful day! <333

Aww, thank you so much for the extremely kind words! Seeing this pop up in my inbox brought a big smile to my face! I really like that chapter as well, I enjoyed getting into Nick's headspace and seeing what kinds of decisions he'd make based on his idolized idea of Luke and his desire to protect the few people he has left.

I've already gotten a request for Sophie to successfully escape WITH Minnie, but I'll see if I can come up with two separate storylines that are differentiated enough I don't have to combine the two prompts!

I've also gotten a request for Mariana to survive, so I'll definitely put your name down as one of the ones who requested it!

As for your third prompt, I love how much thought you've put into it, especially that name, which is AMAZING, but I've actually got an idea for a standalone TWDG story that's very similar to this one! The idea for that story is that Lee survives season 1, and ends up adopting every child/teenager in the series. For that reason, I'm gonna have to decline doing this one as a What If, as I want to do an expanded version of this idea as its own story, which I very much hope you'll enjoy when it eventually comes out.

Thank you so much again for the ask, and for all the requests! Readers like you enjoying my stories are what give me the motivation to keep on writing. May you have a wonderful day as well!

#ask #the walking dead game #twdg #twdg fanfic #CrusaderWriting #What-Ifs of Telltale's the Walking Dead

[august-anon]

maybe a bit vague for a prompt, but either stede or ed need to tell the other that they are very cute when tickled and they get all flustered or something. i think they deserve it. and its objectively true.

It is true and they both deserve it!!!! Which means... They both get it lol. Thank you so much for the prompt, and for your patience! Hope you enjoy the fic!

----

Adorable

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death

Ship(s): Gentlebeard

Characters (lee/ler): Switch!Stede/Switch!Ed

Word Count: 3115 words

Summary: It was so fucking unfair that Stede was so cute while getting tickled. Unfortunately for Ed, Stede was adamant on proving the reverse, too.

[ao3 link]

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Really, Ed had just been looking for an excuse. How could he not, after finding out Stede was ticklish from one of the crewmembers? So Ed wasn’t actually upset about Stede cutting them off from the brandy for the night after only two glasses; frankly he preferred being clear headed anyway, all the drinking was usually for show and left him feeling shit in the morning, especially at his age. But, he wasn’t about to pass up this perfect excuse to test his newfound knowledge about Stede just because it was a half-baked ploy.

“You really ought to bring that brandy back out, mate,” Ed said. “Or I’ll be forced to take drastic measures.”

Stede gave him an odd look from the other end of the room. “And, what measures might those be, exactly?”

Ed grinned as he lifted up his hands, his fingers shaped into claws and wiggling in Stede’s direction. Stede’s eyes went wide and darted around the room. His cheeks went a little rosy around a nervous grin.

Oh, that was so fuckin’ unfair.

“Well,” Stede said, clearing his throat. “I think you’ll have to catch me first, then, won’t you?”

Ed’s grin widened. Combined with the giddy look in Stede’s eyes, the words were practically an invitation. Ed wasted no time in leaping off the couch and lunging for Stede, but Stede was deceptively quick for someone who’d barely seen a day’s work before escaping to the sea. It seemed like all of Ed’s training was finally paying off, exactly when he didn’t need it to be. Oh well, a bit of chase could be fun, too.

And Stede seemed to think so, as well. Feinting left and right around furniture, grinning and laughing when Ed would get a little too close for comfort, taunting Ed if he fell too far behind. If Ed didn’t know any better, he would almost say that Stede wanted to get tickled. Not that Ed would know anything about that sort of feeling, of course not.

Eventually, Ed managed to tackle Stede down onto the sofa, digging his hands into the first soft spot he could get a grip on, which just so happened to be Stede’s stomach. Stede tumbled into laughter, pressing the side of his face into the cushion as his cheeks got even more red from the exertion. His eyes were all crinkled and scrunched, and his smile was bright enough to light up the entire room.

God, that was so fuckin’ unfair.

With a little wrestling (well, not really. Stede didn’t quite seem to be fighting back like, at all), Ed managed to get Stede lying flat on his back, and Ed straddled his hips without a second thought. The second thought came several seconds after he’d already done it, along with the third, the fourth, the fifth– sitting astride Stede just gave him a lot of thoughts, most of them enough to kick his heart into high gear and make his own face a little ruddy, and he was thankful that his skin tone and beard could hide most of it. Plus, he realized as he skittered his blunt nails up Stede’s ribcage and got a squeal in return, it’s not like Stede was in much of a position to notice, anyway.

“God, you’re so ticklish,” Ed muttered, mostly to himself, though he was rewarded with Stede’s pretty flush extending down his neck.

He could work with this.

Ed leaned in closer, grinning as he slipped his hands up into Stede’s underarms. “Are you just ticklish everywhere? Is that it?”

Stede shook his head, or at least Ed thought he did. It was hard to tell with how wildly his upper body was squirming. He chuckled, trying to dig in deeper despite how tightly Stede had now pressed his arms to his sides, and was rewarded with a cackle.

“Maybe we should test that, huh? Where haven’t I gone yet…”

“Ed!”

Ed wriggled his hands out of Stede’s armpits, doing his best to make it as ticklish as possible, and took stock. He was glad that Stede had taken off his fancy jacket and vest when they’d started drinking for the night, because it made it so much easier to untuck his frilly white shirt and sneak his hands inside. And he deliberately did not think about what Stede’s skin felt like under his fingers when he went to scribble at Stede’s sides (it was soft and smooth and warm).

Stede’s hands scrabbled for Ed’s through the fabric of his shirt, and he tossed his head back with a series of frantic giggles. Ed couldn’t help but laugh along, watching Stede’s face for every crinkle of his eyes, every jump of his smile, every time the flush across his cheeks would darken or spread. God, he was just so…

“Cute,” Ed muttered, barely aware of what he was saying. “This is too damn cute.”

Stede’s hands jumped up to cover his face, but the blush spread to his ears and Ed watched with pride as they turned a dark red. He raised up a little on his knees and leaned down until he was hovering a handful of inches above Stede’s hidden face.

“What, no one ever called you cute before, mate?” Ed scoffed, squeezing his fingers down Stede’s sides to get him to squirm. “Clearly, they don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

Stede moved his hands and squinted his eyes open, opening his mouth like he was going to retort, but all that came out was a loud shriek as his legs jumped up and slammed into Ed’s back. Ed grunted, more out of surprise than anything, and brought one hand up onto the cushion next to Stede’s head to help him keep his balance. He paused his tickling, glancing down to see what got him such a reaction, and saw his other hand gripping at Stede’s hip.

A slow grin spread across Ed’s face. “What have we here?” He asked in a low voice. “Did I find a tickle spot?” He paused, raking his eyes over Stede’s torso. “Actually, I think your whole body is a tickle spot.”

Stede stammered over his words for a few moments before finally getting out, “I don’t think I should answer such a question.”

Ed laughed and brought his other hand back down, pinching at both of Stede’s hips and beaming at the shriek that burst forth once more. “I dunno, man, I–”

He grunted as Stede’s legs slammed into his back again, his fingers stopping mid-tickle. Stede’s laughter trailed off, and when Ed looked back at his face, Stede’s hand was clapped over his mouth, his eyes wide.

Ed narrowed his eyes, baring his teeth in his next smirk. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”

Stede gasped, his squirming finally gaining intent for the first time since Ed pinned him. He was already giggling as Ed sat up, his legs bouncing anxiously against the sofa behind Ed’s back.

“Wait wait wait,” Stede giggled, his eyes big and round. “Wait, Ed, let’s talk about this!”

Ed raised an eyebrow. “What’s there to talk about? You’re ticklish, it’s fuckin’ cute as hell, and I’m gonna make you laugh.” He paused for a moment, his arms already stretched back behind him, poised to strike. “Unless you got a problem with that?”

Stede pouted, or at least he tried to. It was rather ineffective, with him still giggling and all. “Well, I, no, it’s just that I–” 

Stede cut himself off with a near scream as Ed squeezed into the muscle of one of his thighs. Ed grinned, feeling a rush go through him at the giddy sound.

“I’m not hearing a yes,” Ed said.

Ed squeezed again, laughing as Stede bolted upright with a bright cackle.

“Too ticklish!” Stede cried, reaching for Ed and clutching a fist desperately in his shirt.

“Perfect,” Ed rumbled, ducking his head a little so his breath could glance over Stede’s ear. “I’m not hearing a stop, either.”

And Stede continued not to say it, even as Ed kept squeezing away. Whenever he found a spot that seemed particularly ticklish, he’d lift up his hands for a quick, devious scribble of his fingertips, before diving in once more. Stede was lost practically the second Ed started, faceplanting into his chest and laughing frantically into the fabric of his shirt, making that section of fabric all warm and humid. Ed wondered if Stede could hear the way Ed’s heart sped up over his laughter.

And then Ed finally reached Stede’s knees. If Ed thought Stede had screamed before, it was nothing compared to now. He half expected the crew to come bursting through the door, weapons at the ready, it was so loud and shrill. Stede broke into wailing laughter when Ed didn’t let up, reaching around and behind Ed to grab at his forearms. He tugged and tugged, but with how laughter-weakened he was, he didn’t have even a hope of budging Ed’s arms. Instead he wrapped his arms around Ed in a sort of hug, laughing himself to tears into Ed’s shoulder as his hands clutching desperately at whatever fabric they could reach.

And Ed still wasn’t hearing a stop, but, frankly, he was starting to get a little worried. So he slowed his fingers, trying to lean back and duck down to catch a glimpse of Stede’s face, see if he was still having fun…

And apparently, that was exactly what Stede was waiting for him to do.

In his moment of distraction, slowing his fingers and letting Stede gather his faculties, Ed had apparently set himself up quite nicely for revenge. Stede’s fingers dug into the backs of his ribs and Ed yelped, trying to squirm away. Stede had cleverly trapped him in this tight, ticklish hug, however, and his efforts were futile. Ed couldn’t stop the snickers that started breaking through as Stede persisted.

“How do you like that?” Stede asked, in the same tone of voice he used to try and threaten ship captains, and it only made Ed laugh harder. “I think it’s high time you got a taste of your own medicine, don’t you?”

Ed shook his head, but it was mainly for the game. He certainly didn’t mind, not so long as it meant he had Stede all pressed up against him like this. Whether Stede was the one giggling up a storm or Ed was, it didn’t matter, it was fun either way. Though there was the perk of Stede’s stupidly cute face and laugh when he was the one being tickled. Maybe they should go back to that.

Stede’s fingers skittered down his body until they reached his sides. He tightened his grip around Ed, then, trying to reach his fingers further around to wiggle them into the fleshy parts of Ed’s sides. Ed crumpled at the touch, nearly snorting in laughter against Stede’s shoulder, and they both fell back against the couch from the added weight. 

There was another moment of wrestling, trying to gain the upper hand, but it seemed that Stede had caught his second wind while Ed was the one being weakened from laughter (and maybe he just liked seeing the happy, victorious look on Stede’s face when Stede realized he was winning), and this time it was Stede that wound up on top. Literally. Ed was stuck laying on his right side while Stede straddled over his upper thighs on his left, pinned awkwardly but securely.

“Well, then!” Stede said, trailing his eyes along Ed’s torso. “Where shall we begin?”

Ed tried to buck. It was awkward, laying on his side, but he at least managed to make Stede lose his balance. Stede yelped and fell forward, catching himself on his hands on either side of Ed’s torso, blinking, and giving Ed another wide eyed look.

Ed smirked. “Better get on with it, mate. Your knees are looking pretty ticklish right now, if you ask me.”

Stede frowned down at him. “Well, if that’s how you’re going to be.”

Stede brought both his hands down, wiggling his fingers deep into Ed’s exposed side. Ed burst out in laughter, not bothering to fight it, and tried to wiggle away from the feeling, only to find that he couldn’t. Apparently, being pinned like this made it rather hard to squirm away. It only got worse as Stede’s hands started moving, one hand crawling toward his back and the other toward his stomach. Ed’s eyes burst open wide, and this time, he did snort.

“Wait, wait!”

Stede gasped dramatically. “The great Blackbeard, incapable of handling the very torment he dishes out!”

Ed felt heat rush to his face and quickly turned it to the side to hide in the cushions, muffling his laughter along the way. Stede lightened his touch, quickening the scribble of his fingers, and Ed cried out in laughter, kicking his feet wildly. Stede laughed along with him.

“Aw, don’t hide from me, Ed!”

Ed tried to bury his face deeper into the cushions, and Stede made another sad little sound. And then Ed yipped as a stream of cool air blew across his neck and ear. He did a full-body squirm (well, as well as he could with being pinned down like this) and jerked his head to that side, unfortunately also exposing his face to Stede.

“There, was that so hard? Would you mind keeping it there, for me?”

God, Ed would do just about anything for him, even if Stede didn’t know it. And unfortunately, that also meant leaving his scrunched up, ruddy face in full view just because Stede asked. Well, actually… he just said keep it there, he didn’t say anything about hiding it in a different way, did he? And so Ed struggled against his own instincts to bring his hands up and cover his face, careful not to move it away, just like Stede asked.

Stede laughed again. “Oh, you cheeky little–”

The hand crawling towards Ed’s stomach thankfully lifted away, giving him a moment’s mercy before it slithered up under his arm, scratching relentlessly at his armpit. Stede’s other hand moved down in the same motion, tickling against the small of his back, bare and exposed from his shirt riding up, and practically making Ed spasm.

“Shit!” He cackled, bringing one arm down for defense (though it was futile, since Stede was already in there, and oh god, get out, that’s so fucking bad) and tossing his head back with his laughter. “Fuck!”

“You know, Ed,” Stede said conversationally, driving Ed up the wall because this was not the moment for casual conversation, thank you very much. “If I’m cute while being tickled, then you are downright adorable.”

Ed groaned through his laughter, wishing he had a better method of hiding his face than just ducking behind his one free hand. Really, Blackbeard was adorable? With his wrinkly, crinkly eyes and his splotchy, ruddy cheeks and his raspy, out of practice laughter? Please.

“I mean it! Look at you, your face all sunny, your laughter all bright. And Ed, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you blush before!”

Ed decided enough was enough, and he needed Stede to stop talking before he exploded. So he reached his free hand down and started squeezing at the thigh and knee Stede had pressed against his stomach to hold him still. Stede squawked and squealed, practically collapsing on top of Ed as he broke back down into laughter, stopping his own tickling to bring his hands over and try to push Ed away.

“Who’s adorable now, huh?”

Stede shrieked as Ed’s fingers scribbled at his kneecap. “Still you!”

And then Stede’s fingers plunged into Ed’s belly, and Ed was done for. It was Ed’s turn to shriek and squeal, the sounds jagged from disuse, as he shoved futilely at Stede’s hands. Ed had almost forgot how ticklish he was there, it had been so long, and while it was unbearable and made his nerves tremble to his very core, it was invigorating. As tears sprung to Ed’s eyes, he wondered if this was how Stede had felt when Ed had been torturing his knees. If so, he could see why Stede had gotten so desperate. Ed felt like he couldn’t take another second of it, even if he wanted it to go on forever.

“Stede, please!”

Stede laughed along with his frantic howling, slipping a finger into Ed’s belly button and making him thrash. Ed scrabbled uselessly at Stede’s arms, wheezing and wailing and having the time of his life, but truly, he only had so much stamina.

“Do you agree that you’re adorable?”

Oh, fuck no. Ed had plenty of stamina. He was fine. Ed shook his head.

Stede hummed. “Have you ever heard of a raspberry? Not the fruit kind.”

A memory sparked in the back of Ed’s mind, his mother’s lips pressed against his stomach and sending him screaming with laughter. His eyes popped open wide and Stede chuckled at his reaction. Ed frantically tried to roll over onto his stomach to no avail.

“Edward,” Stede practically sang. “All you have to do is say it!”

Ed relented. “I’m fuckin’ adorable, Stede come on!”

Stede’s hands immediately left his skin. Moments later, Stede’s body lifted from his entirely, and though Ed mourned the loss of weight and heat and Stede, he was all too happy to curl up into a ball to protect his most sensitive spot. He heard Stede let out a humming little snicker as he reached out to readjust Ed’s shirt to cover most of his torso again, before Stede settled down on the ground next to the sofa.

“I didn’t go too far, did I?”

Ed scoffed. “Are you kidding? That was a fuckin’ blast, mate.”

Stede beamed at him.

“Next time, though? I get to win.”

Stede tossed his head back with a laugh. “Oh we’ll have to see, won’t we? I have a new mission now, after all.”

Ed lifted his head up, peering at Stede. “And what’s that?”

“Well, I may have gotten you to admit that you’re adorable, but the next step is to make you really believe it.”

Ed groaned and ducked his face away again. He wasn’t use to feeling so shy, and the stupid butterflies in his belly were far too ticklish after what he just went through.

“Well,” Ed said, voice slightly muffled in his little ball of protection, “Maybe I’ll just have to do the same to you.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”Ed couldn’t help but laugh, despite how sore his abs felt. The man was fuckin’ mental. God, he loved it.

#tickle fic #My writing #ofmd tickles #ofmd tickling #lee!stede #lee!ed #ler!stede #ler!ed #ticklish!stede #ticklish!ed #ofmd #stede bonnet #ed teach #gentlebeard

[sinful-morningstar]

Spartober 2023 Day 4 Reunion (VerDante)

Author's note: I purposely kept Nero out of this one despite him being important in the cutscene in DMC 5 but bear with me there will be more Nero content in the future, other than that enjoy this ficlet where they reunite and spar Prompts by whatsanapocolae1 (I am using a combination of Spartober and Devil MayTober prompts) {I'm still catching up on the Prompts so stay tuned for more content i will get caught up even if it kills me lol} 4: Reunion (VerDante)

 “You’ve got some pretty big cojones coming back!...Just don't know when to give up!” Dante growled as he charged at Vergil, his heart racing; he felt a mixture of anger and joy for seeing him again but bitterness due to the last time they saw each other. He jumped and struck Vergil only to have the Yamato push him back, it gave him memories of when the two had fought atop the tower all those years ago. Sparks flew as the blades crashed an echo into the past as Dante remembered their last duel. Distracted by his own thoughts he felt the sheathed blade pushing him back as Vergil defended himself further.He blinked pleasantly surprised that Vergil hadn't impaled or even grazed against his flesh…no the blade was covered and it left Dante wondering why. Falling back Dante steadied himself, his eyes fixated on Vergil as they both caught their breath. He remembered the rainfall on the tower the way Vergil’s hair fell in his face, it was all too similar and it made him shiver. He had Vergil back but at what cost?. Shaking his head Dante proceeded to Charge once more at Vergil, the duo coming to a close in the middle of the Qliphoth as their swords clashed once more, sparks blew between them almost a small flame which perfectly embodied not just their fiery passion for fighting, but something else..something unspoken… Vergil defended himself expertly, keeping Dante back from slashing at him with The Rebellion. The pair grunting in unison as their strength bounced off one another. Sparks continued to fly  between them as he spoke “Defeating you like this..is meaningless…” He says shaking his head he can see just how beaten Dante is ,how tired..or broken he must feel in this moment seeing him again, he can't stand to witness his brother fight in such a weak state of body and mind…No that just won't do.. “Cmon Vergil!” Dante growled soft before he spoke again “Let's do this~” it was almost enticing; the way his breath caught in his throat making it somewhat sultry, this reminded Vergil of the moan that once  escaped his brother's lips as he had impaled him with the yamato ..long ago..

He smirked to himself, some things never change and it seemed this dance of determination and strength was still fresh in their mind as if it ran through their veins and fueled that desire in their hearts, would they continue to fight or would they finally give in to what they both want , that they repeatedly deny themselves every time they battle.

“Heal your wounds Dante..” Vergil said as he looked back into Dante’s eyes; a slight warmth in his tone as he remembered this exact moment years ago. He gripped The Yamato as he continued to say “ Get Strong…After that we’ll settle the matter!”.

He swept the blade beneath where Dante stood causing his brother to fall back, Vergil pushed Dante to the ground making sure he was down and out for the count. He watched him writhe in pain seething at his wounds; the adrenaline from the reunion had worn off and Dante was worse for wear.

Vergil sighed as he used the Yamato to travel to another part of the Qliphoth. The blade sliced a portal open as glowing lights of blue, red and purple mixed homogeneously, leaving a captivating glow that only further pulled Vergil to the opening.

Dante watched as Vergil was about to leave he wheezed “Come back here..I-I’m not through with you..” he shuddered.

Looking over his shoulder Vergil raised a brow at his brother, surprised by his stubbornness. He turned around and walked back over to him, he knelt down on the ground beside him and caressed his cheek gently wiping away the blood on his face.

“Oh I know all too well, brother mine…but if I have my fun with you now, there won't be any more left of you once I'm done with you..and where is the point in that?~” he said in a sultry tone, smirking as he got up to leave.

Dante blushed darkly, this was definitely better than being unconscious and having a stolen kiss..the words..the promises..the empty threats, it's what made his heart race and his blood rush. He watched as Vergil went through the portal leaving Dante on his own.

He would heal..he would get strong just to see Vergil again ..just to have that  twisted pleasure from their brotherly fighting..the rivalry that was in their blood and bones, the one thing that kept Dante going..His reason for fighting…

Reunited and it felt..so good…

#spardacest #verdante #danver #spartober 2023 #dante x vergil #vergil x dante

[nightroo]

May or may not have forgotten what I posted here myself months ago so the last post had a few repeats. oops.

Well I know for sure this one won’t because I stopped posting when I started the second semester, which is what this post is about. So the drawing above is the start of working with more complex shapes, using the ones we learned from last semester. This is also where things got interesting, since I could see the potential for architectural drawings.

There are a lot, and I mean A LOT of drawings like these in my sketchbook, I’m gonna show you only the ones I find interesting.

After that we went back a bit for cast shadows, which I have decided are my new mortal enemy in art. A long time ago it was rendering hair, but that’s nothing compared to this.

The amount of calculations you need to do for this and the different formulas for each shape make me wanna rip my hair off. And that’s before getting into more complex shapes.

They're not 100% correct but my teacher said the majority of people won’t notice anything wrong so I shouldn’t worry about it. I won’t until I need it for a personal project, then I’ll get very annoyed again.

After that nightmare I got rewarded with finally using colors to render for the first time!!! I love rendering with colors so I was very excited haha

The copper (right middle sphere) is my absolute favorite, and my teacher really liked it as well.

We also had a small lecture on arrows and ribbons/fabric and we got to render them with colors as well.

For all the colored drawings I used a combination of alcohol markers and colored pencils. The markers melted and blended the pencils and I could use this to mix colors I didn't have. For example, I didn’t have a red marker at all.

After that we had a fun exercise where we needed to either study an object or design our own. The purpose was to use the previous lessons about shapes in perspective, and the rendering of different materials. I went with a gun design, but not just any gun-this one is technically 3 guns, a pistol and an SMG that you can connect and form an assault rifle. So I designed each gun separately (somehow I managed to turn this exercise to designing 3 objects instead of one, leave it to me to make it harder on myself lmao), and thought about how they connect, making sure the chambers kinda align and stuff like that.

I don’t wanna brag but I got the highest grade in the class for this assignment. Mostly because I’m the only one that actually rendered the different materials (or tried to), but also because my teacher liked the idea and thought it was interesting, and something people would actually buy if it was real.

It’s not the best but I literally didn’t have a grey marker so I was pretty limited. I chose a stained-glass theme for some reason, I didn’t want to make it a normal looking gun. The scan made it a bit more contrast-y than it is irl.

After a huge break we came back and had one lesson of silhouettes, something I kinda knew but never went out and made studies of. The challenging part of this was the time limit, at the start we had a minute, but it went down to 30 seconds. We were allowed to go overtime but it wasn't considered good.

On the same lesson, we also had life drawing, using each other as models. We had to get the pose down in one minute, and then take that as a reference for a more detailed drawing. I chose to completely change the context at that point lol

The next lesson was about isometric perspective. I don’t think I’ve actually talked about this here, but I got scammed by a guy who asked me to make him a city island in isometric perspective, then when it came time to pay, he “took a vacation” for two weeks. Came back to tell me he’s definitely gonna pay me. Proceeded to disappear. Anyways I haven’t done isometric from that moment until this lesson, where we were given a prompt word and had to draw an environment following it. I used only colored pencils for this one because I forgot to bring my markers, but it was a nice restriction to only use 12 colors and try to combine them to make the rest. I really enjoyed this one since I got the freedom to make something cool.

(the prompts are top-to-bottom forest, COVID-19, underwater and space) my teacher walked up to my desk to see what I’m doing while I worked on the space one, and he said “you are crazy” every time he passed by. He showed everyone’s work around, and a lot of people liked mine :) The space one is based on a black hole btw, but if it was an eldritch horror.

The last lesson was a time for the teacher to review everyone’s work one by one, so most of the time we were waiting for our turn. He put up a pic of an old camera if any of us wanted to draw it, but I used it as a reference for a building because it reminded me of art deco architecture. After finishing that, I had an idea for a shrine kind of place, inspired by a spot I built for a friend’s minecraft server that we didn’t end up using. And I topped it off with Lykena and Eivrun sketches (that for Eivrun might turn into a full painting when it’s her turn)

The entire year my teacher was occasionally asking me if I’m not getting bored, because we were going through a lot of basics I was obviously proficient at already, but I always found something new to learn, no matter how small, even on topics I practiced a lot before. So I’d say this workshop was very useful for me. And besides, it’s always good to get critiques from a professional, and from people who are interested in art.

#original art #Art Studies #uni work #my teacher was pretty mean but he wasnt mean to me #probably bc i never gave him trouble but also i dont think i look like the person that can take his roasts lmao #i learned a lot about perspective from this year #which is good bc it was a weakpoint for me

[mintcreamchan]

Behind the Scenes for KSBB21 Art Piece

Hello! (Waves) It’s been a year since the creation of “How to (Accidentally) Clear Kaitou KID's Route: A Guide by Shinichi Kudo”  written by the lovely Bear (tumblr and ao3, check them out!) and drawn my me! I’m taking a break this year from this year’s big bang because I’m burnt out. Regardless, I want to wish good luck to all participants for the KSBB22, I know you’ll do great! \(^o^)/

But anyways, I was looking through my sketch book and was reminded of this time so if you’re interested, here’s some extra commentary on how I got to my piece last year. The KSBB21 mentioned above was a work that was the combined efforts of me and Bear so there are obviously both me and their hearts in it, but the pieces below are basically just me before I was matched up (a feral Mint so to say). So opinions below are mine, if you have questions on writing, definitely head on over and ask Bear! :)

Okay, enough intro, more below if you are interested Warning: I ramble lots!:

*Also, I will go ahead and say I am very sorry for cursing in the art notes, I usually add them when it’s just myself drawing so I am slightly less embarrassed. Especially if I think what I am drawing is cringe.

To preface, I will say that the below piece has no relation to the story published, but is necessary for this commentary lol.

So the above piece (04.25.21), one of many, was me figuring out what the heck to draw because the prompt was AU/UA as is this year’s KSBB22 is. Originally, I thought it’d be interesting for a devil Shinichi and an angel Kaito, and so I tried drawing that out and then I realized I would need more practice with wings... so that was scrapped. I also briefly thought about an AU where they went to the same school (same uniform), but then scrapped that idea because it didn’t seem very fun for me. Also, at this time, I hadn’t had much practice drawing the two so I was also working on that. So if you check my sketch book, you’ll see a lot of sketches of me just drawing the two of them though I didn’t include that.

And then this drawing here (05.03.21) is what I would say is the catalyst to the story we know today. At the time, I was sketching other things and then thought about current games where they have pulls and then this sketch was born. So the gears were turning, but not quite there yet. I do know that I wanted to have a video game concept at this point.

(05.04.21) I was doodling other things and then I thought of games I liked (Princess Debut, otome games, and visual novels) so I quickly put down a sketch here. As with a lot of otome games, there are cheesy lines spouted so I get easily embarrassed reading them and so I imagined the same thing here from Kid in a VN and Shinichi reading this. I thought this would be super fun and from here, this is where I really started thinking.

(05.06.21) So a lot of the drawings here may seem familiar because a lot of it did end up going into the final product. Some things were thrown out, but a lot things here were what I wanted to do and Bear just got pulled along (thank you for putting up with me Bear, bless your soul). The load screen that you see in the published story was inspired by the sketch on the top left and I just dragged Bear into it lol. Luckily, it didn’t affect the story too much so it was just a good piece for the vibes of the game which is what I wanted. After that, there was just a lot of sketches of what I would want for the key piece. So the first piece you see with the heist (published story) is inspired by the one here (sketch in center). It was also the toughest piece for me to finish because I was never quite satisfied with it. As you can see, I played around with a childhood AU sketch, but scrapped that because I reallly liked the otome idea at this point. Some screaming in these sketches, but this was so fun for me to do and think about. I still laugh at these when I’m looking at them lol so it’s fine.

(06.27.21) This is actually a piece that I shared with Bear when we were talking about the story and trying to flesh out the idea. Here, I was trying to explain the flower thing and heart like you may see in Harvest Moon: The Tale of Twin Towns and Princess Debut. This piece actually steered the direction for the key piece for the first heist as you may see with the blooming flowers and some of the other pieces. So I kept it in mind as I was drawing, but also while I was reading because me and Bear told each other our progress and were pretty transparent where we were at. So I would ask Bear questions, sometimes gush, and vice-versa and it was a nice l process that made a lot of things more cohesive for the art/story. The rest you can say is history.

(06.27.21) This last sketch here was when I was thinking of how it would look at the end for the main piece, basically I was trying to fix the composition of the main piece. I have like three other ones, but I’m not showing those because it’s pretty embarrassing (same idea hashed out in the same way) and so the gist is that I was unsatisfied. Honestly, even now in 2022, I’m still a little unsatisfied with the piece, but it’s kind of like what you think doesn’t match up with your skill and I’m working to get my skill up there. Overall, with what I did have, I am happy with what I did accomplish and submit.

So that’s that for the behind the scenes before my pairing with my writing partner. Thanks for reading, I hope you got something out of it! I could add further commentary on the process for the actual pieces in the story because I have the notes on that, but I shall stop here because this is rather long.

If you’re participating in this year’s KSBB22 (and reading this), I just want to say that I hope you have fun and do your best! It can be a bit tiring, but when it’s all done and put together and you can get to breathe/look at it, it’s something to be proud of! Good luck!

#hmmm #my art #ksbb21 #kaishin #long post #thank you for reading #you me and our parasocial relationship here #dcmk #mintcreamchan commentary #mintcreamchan

[set-phasers-to-whump]

hii there! do you have any whump lists or whump fanfics recommendations for Evan Buckley from 9-1-1?

hi! idk if a whump list exists but i would recommend checking out the whumpapedia, off the top of my head 2x18 and 3x01-03ish come to mind though. i'm an eddie whump man myself but i have read a few buck whump fics, i'll list them for you here (under a readmore bc some of the summaries are super long lol). also just as a disclaimer i read most of these a While ago and my notes on many of them aren't super descriptive so there may be some not very whumpy or not very good fics in here but like. this is what i've got lol. hope you like some of them!

Adrift by myemergence. summary: After Buck and Christopher get swept away in the tsunami, Buck struggles to keep Christopher safe. Buck tries to help as many people as possible and saves countless lives. What happens when he loses Christopher, one of the people in the world that means the most to him and how will he ever explain it to Eddie? ** “Wha-what do you mean he vanished? Where is Christopher now?” Eddie chokes out. Buck reaches out to grab the tent to balance himself. “I-I don’t know, Eds. I’m not going to stop looking. We will find him.” Buck feels the walls closing in around him now, the anxiety that has been swelling in his chest all day threatens to suffocate him and he gasps for air. “You lost him?” Eddie takes a step back, the tears that have been welling in his eyes finally breaking loose.

Another Head Hangs Lowly, Child Is Slowly Taken... and the Violence Causes Silence (Who Are We Mistaken?) by Huntress8611. summary: “Buck, how we doing?” Hen asked, crouching next to him. “Uh, kinda numb,” he grunted. That wasn’t exactly the truth, and his vision swam as Hen inserted two IVs, the pain in his leg getting worse by the second.

Baby Buckaroo by Delilah2040. summary: Buck keeps having nightmares and so he calls the one person he knows he can rely on. Athena comes to the conclusion that her husband must be cheating on her after mysterious phone calls lead Bobby to rush out in the middle of the night.

Before Something Breaks that Cannot be Fixed by jasperthewriter. summary: Five minor injuries, and one hospital visit. Five snapshots into Buck and Eddie's lives and relationship, and one time Eddie almost lost Buck. "Tell Chris I love him, ok Eddie?” “Tell him yourself,” Eddie says shortly. “We’re almost there.” “I love you too.” Buck says.

Better by patrocchilles. summary: When Eddie finally tears his eyes away from the television, his face is twisted almost as if in pain. He meets Buck’s gaze, searching for some kind of answer, and Buck is terrified of what he might find. “Can you explain this to me?” Eddie implores, voice gruff and filled with a desperation that startles Buck. Buck can’t speak, or look away, or even blink. He feels frozen, fear like ice in his veins juxtaposed with the burning sensation in his throat and lungs. It’s getting harder to breathe and he thinks he might be having a panic attack, but he has to say something, because Eddie won’t stop looking at him and he doesn’t know how much more of this deafening silence he can take. “I’m sorry, I-” Buck whispers, and then lowers his voice even further, if it’s even possible, “I didn’t want you to see this.”

Bloodbuzz by Anonymous. summary: Buck may have found Maddie, but he is not all right. So Eddie takes him home. (Coda to 2x13, "Fight or Flight")

Broken Silence by datleggy. summary: combined prompts asking for quiet Buck trying to stay out of everyone's way after the lawsuit--he and Maddie get hurt but he thinks they won't care, because of how they've been treating him lately, so he doesn't say anything, but does request time off, and then comfort ensues!

Catch me when I fall by HaleyBuckley. summary: Missing Evan Buckley scene from 3x03 after Buck finds Eddie at the VA hospital (because the fire fam should have been with him more and taken care of him)

Dunk Tank Duty by datleggy. summary: Prompt: after the lawsuit Buck is alienated. It's summer so the firehouse is hosting a charity event for kids. One attraction is the dunk tank and without thinking Bobby orders Buck to do it What they don't realize is that Buck's not over the tsunami. They all dunk him, Eddie the most, but don't notice. Chris is the one who notices and yells "Stop Daddy Buck's scared! Stop it!" Buck runs to Chris and they cling to each other. Chris and a bunch of kids say "You're all mean!" Cue the devastation.

Falling but already Fallen by DarkFairytale. summary: Buck coughed back to consciousness, choking on the dust and debris that hung thick in the air. The motion jarred his right side; the side he was laying on, the side he’d landed on, and even as the winded pain forced him to curl in on himself until the coughs subsided, the only thought on his mind was Eddie.

First Impressions by Wildspringflower06. summary: “You’ve been ignoring me for nearly a decade Evan you’ll have to grow up eventually.” “I’m not-” Buck started, but quickly lowered his voice, “I’m not ignoring you. I just don’t have time right now, I have to work.” Eddie stood from the couch and started slowly walking towards the stairs, he didn’t like the way his friend was acting, and the older man was setting off all sorts of alarm bells in the back of his mind. “Oh you have to work do you? Big important firefighter that you are.” The man jeered, clearly amused.

Hoping for the best, but expecting the worst by OpheliaPending. summary: It'd been two weeks since anyone had heard from Buck. Then the 118 get on a call and Eddie just about loses his mind.

i thought i lost you by smartbuckley. summary: given from the following prompt: Buck is back with the team but they are giving him the cold shoulder, especially Eddie. Buck just bears it and hopes. What no one knows is that Buck’s lawyer is plotting to take Buck out for not taking the money. He hires people to lure Buck into a trap and it seems to work, everyone thinking Buck was blown to bits or lost some other way. Eddie is beside himself. Athena is on call when she hears and goes on the warpath, pulling of a car matching Buck’s. Guess who’s behind the wheel?

It's Ok Now by datleggy. summary: On his day off, Buck takes Christopher to the doctor--just for a cold, no big deal--until it suddenly might be and Buck is alone and nobody is picking up their phone.

Lay You Down by Pline. summary: Buck is sick and can't be left alone in his feverish state, but everyone is working. Everyone but Athena.

made up my mind i'm (leaving) my baby by ShyAudacity. summary: Somehow, Buck manages to not profess his overwhelming, universe sized crush to the whole city of Los Angeles- or Eddie, for that matter. He keeps his feelings in check; he hangs out with Eddie and Christopher when the two of them are off-shift just enough to make it seem friendly and not like Buck is holding back on the biggest secret he’s ever kept. It’s fine, he tells himself. Eddie has Christopher and half a wife to worry about. I don’t need to jump in giving him more to deal with. He’s got enough on his plate right now as it is. He’ll be fine without me. I got along just fine before I knew him, I can keep doing it now. OR A universe where too much distance between soulmates (after they’ve met) can cause one or both of them to become very ill (especially if one of them is pining or not being honest about their true feelings).

My Stability by autumnchills. summary: After months of surgeries and rehab, Buck has made it back to where he was, something that still amazes the doctors. That all goes down the drain the moment he starts coughing. — Eddie’s POV in 3x01 and how he reacts to Buck coughing up blood.

never just a wave by thisissirius. summary: Buck’s hand is clenching and unfurling against his knee, like he’s not conscious of it, and Eddie reaches across the center console, taking Buck’s hand in his own. He only means to stop the movement in the corner of his eye, but Buck jerks, head snapping up, and he wrenches his hand out from under Eddie’s, breath coming in quick gasps. “Easy,” Eddie says, guilt welling in his chest, trying to keep his attention on the road and on Buck. “I’m sorry.” Buck’s voice cracks when he says, “No, I’m sorry.”

Not Alone by datleggy. summary: Prompt: after the drama with the lawsuit Buck is back but the team are cold and distant or even hostile. Buck tries not to let it get to him but he misses them, especially Eddie who just glares at him. This treatment slowly starts to ware down Buck’s hope that they would all reconcile eventually. It leads to Buck either asking for a transfer or doing something worse. Either way the team, especially Bobby and Eddie realize they let things fester to long. Put as much angst into this as you can!

Not Enough by datleggy. summary: I saw a post- I can't remember where, though, sorry -about the dosed episode and how Bobby hallucinated his daughter and what if Buck had hallucinated something from his past (maybe something not so good?) too and I was just wondering if, whenever you get the chance, you could maybe write a fic based on this, please? (and I know that half the team was drugged along w him, but maybe after they've all sobered, there's some Fire Fam feels and comfort?) absolutely no worries if not! have a good day!

Of Bikes and Concussions by datleggy. summary: Buck gets into an accident on his way to work in the morning, and before he can explain why he's late, he gets thoroughly chewed out and the rest of his day goes way downhill from there.

Snap, Crackle, Pop. by wolfypuppypiles. summary: Eddie pulled his phone out of his pocket, standing to answer its ringing call. “Hey, Buck.” “Dad.” Eddie spun on his heel, smile warming up his chest at his son’s voice. “Hey, buddy. Where’s Buck? You guys having fun?” “We fell.” AKA Buck gets hurt and its Christopher who has to save him

So Open up My Eyes, Tell Me I'm Alive by Huntress8611. summary: “Christopher!” he called, stumbling down the street. “Christopher!”

The Meaning of Family by MadalineGrace. summary: Buck couldn’t help the wince as he caught his reflection in the mirror. The face that stared back at him was pale and drawn, with the only color coming from the red in his cheeks and the dark rings around his eyes. Even his lips were trembling faintly. It was fine. He was fine. He just needed to sleep this off for a few hours and he’d be okay. If only the room would stop spinning and his body could decide on a temperature...

the worth of things by thisissirius. summary: Sitting on the edge of a cot he thinks about going home. It’s probably the best option, but Christopher’s still out there and Buck’s not going to leave him to suffer alone. He’s not. His arm will be fine, he just needs to keep going.

there's a grief that can't be spoken by ShyAudacity. summary: For someone who said he wanted to talk he’s not saying much. After a minute, Bobby finally prompts him. “Buck,” he says, gently. “What was it you wanted to talk about?” Buck looks almost startled when he looks up again- like he forgot Bobby was even in the room with him. It takes Buck another second but he finally says: “…my dad just died.” It comes out more like a question than a statement and Bobby swears that all the air and light leaves the room in a second. That’s not where he expected this conversation to go- not even close. “Oh, God, Buck, I’m- I’m sorry.” OR Buck is having A Bad Day and Bobby is there for him when he needs it.

what if i surrender (and give in) by chthonicheart. summary: “'Hey, man'?” Eddie repeats, and the weight of disbelief in his tone is the only thing that drowns out the latent anger. “Really? Why the hell are you even here, Buck?”

When I'm With You by stellarmeadow. summary: He’d always kind of expected if Buck ran into Abby again it would be a little bit of a train wreck, given the way she’d left, and the way Buck’s emotions tended to run all over the place. He just hadn’t expected it to be an actual train wreck. Buck hadn’t said much after they’d finished up at the site of the wreck. He’d been silent in the truck, staring out the window. They were all exhausted, which meant a quiet ride anyway, which made Buck’s silence easier to miss. Unless you were looking very closely. A soft knock at the front door had him running to answer it before a louder knock followed. He opened the door to find Buck standing on the other side, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, like a kid who’d missed curfew. “Can I come in?”

Worth the Risk by 8ucky8arnes. summary: [9-1-1 Dispatcher]: 9-1-1 what’s your emergency? [Caller]: Doug…he-he stabbed Buck. He stabbed Evan and he…he’s still in the house. A rewrite of "Fight or Flight" where Buck was stabbed instead of Chimney.

You Won't Ever Be Alone (Coda 3x03) by RavensCAT. summary: Buck tries to tell Eddie he lost his son. Christopher shows up. The lady doesn't trust Eddie and will only give him to Buck. Eddie takes both his boys home and takes care of them.

#ask #i say things #fic rec #911 #evan buckley #hopefully the links work lmao #anon