#the fact that you can’t tag all hermits

[mudblockz]

they are such little creatures

#they are 5cm tall in my head #2 inch beasts #just little guys you know #hermitcraft #hc s10 #hermitblr #hermitcraft demise #grian #falsesymmetry #bdoubleo100 #xbcrafted #the fact that you can’t tag all hermits

[ohtobeleah]

NCIS // Bradley Bradshaw

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw knows when his soon to be wife shows up randomly on Friday evening at the Hard Deck it can’t be good. But just how bad could things really be, right?

Warnings: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x NCIS reader. Angst, Fluff. A little bit of action.

Word Count: 8.2k

Author Note: I’m glad you all had such a positive response to this idea. Here’s a one shot to say thank you for being absolute legends. Might even be open to doing more if this does well.

“What’s got you all twisted?” Rooster smirked as he watched Hangman glare down the pool table. Missing his shot by a mile. The usual confidence ridden aviator had seemingly shrunk into a hermit style shell for the last half an hour or so. Rooster had walked in half way through the game. Settling into his surroundings with a beer and a side of fries on the way.

Hangman didn’t even bother with a response, simply ignoring the question all together as he lined up another shot at redemption.

“Oh he tried to make a move on the civ sitting at the bar—she really knocked him down a peg.” Javy tried to hide his content. He always enjoyed when his best friend learnt a lesson or two. Not everyone was obsessed with Jake Hangman Seresin—and quite frankly? Sometimes he needed to be humbled. And humble Hangman you did indeed.

“Which one?” Rooster asked as he turned around, his eyes immediately landing on you as you sat by yourself. Content with the beer in front of you. Clearly working a case. “You know what? Never mind—I already have a gut feeling.” Finishing the rest of the beer Hangman had so graciously ordered last round, Rooster really did try and play it cool as he took strides to get to you. Trying to bury the fact if he had to he’d move goddamn mountains to get to you. His best friend. His fiancé. None of the team knew about Bradley Bradshaw's love life. He hadn’t found the right time to introduce you to the squad. His colleagues, friends. He was trying to, honestly. But with your line of work? It was becoming increasingly hard to pin you down.

As Rooster made his way over to you by the bar. Pushing past people who got in his way absentmindedly—you spotted him. Sending him a smirk that he’d missed seeing in person. FaceTime just didn’t do your beauty justice. Looking at your fiancé so helplessly stunned for only a split second before you forced yourself to remain calm. Rooster thought back to the first time he met you.

You hated being on carriers. For an NCIS agent, being aboard was a big part of your job description. It was something that couldn't be avoided, although you really did try. It wasn't that you weren't good on ships or got nauseous from the motion of the ocean, no. It was something far less exhilarating than throwing up at any given moment in front of whoever had fallen victim to the sight of your breakfast, lunch and or dinner making a quick escape.

It was the fact you never knew where on earth you were fucking going. And that really sucked.

Bradley Bradshaw had seen you going around in circles for the last forty five minutes. He’d been watching you from a distance. First he saw you when he was going over his Super Hornet. Checking its systems, the landing gear, the tags. All the good stuff. Then he saw you in the galley, looking confused and almost overwhelmed with the amount of crew that had filled in for dinner. And the last time Rooster saw you before he decided enough was enough? Was when he saw you heading down towards the engine room… What the hell were you doing? Were you–lost?

“Ma’am you aren’t lost are you?” Bradley Bradshaw considered himself a confident man when it came to talking to women, but for a moment you made it hard to formulate another sentence when you turned around to face him. Completely knocking the wind out of him with the way you looked so helplessly stunned. “Because if you are, I'm more than happy to help.” Yep. That was the moment Bradley Bradshaw knew he wanted you in his life.

“I'm good, thanks.” Shrugging the sailor off, it wasn't that you didn't want help. You just had too much pride to admit you were in fact. Lost. Rooster watched with an all knowing smirk as you turned around, heading straight to what he knew to be a deadend towards the laundry room. Unless that was what you had been looking for the entire time? Bradley knew you would have to pivot your way back past him. Opting to stay put, leaning against the hull with his arms crossed waiting for you to make your appearance.

Which you inevitably had to do because you were fucking lost. Sending the sailor with the cute smirk a look when you met him back where he stood originally. Stopping right next to Bradley as he smirked down at you. All Knowing.

“Okay, so maybe I am lost.” He smelt of pear and freesia. The delectable fresh scent that could be bottled and sold. It reminded you of home. “I'm looking for my room, 507.” Bradley raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Had you been wondering the entirety of the carrier trying to look for the dorms and bunks and hadn’t bothered to stop and ask a single soul for help. “The captain said my stuff had already been dropped off but I'm so disorientated.”

“First time on a carrier ma’am?” Rooster asked kindly as he walked with you in the complete opposite direction to where you had originally been going. Huh, you really were lost.

“Would you believe me if I said no?” Rooster chuckled quietly to himself at your response. “No, I do this more often than not, I should be used to this whole, ant hill.” You tried to explain as you walked side by side, not really in a hurry to get where you were going. Rooster couldn't have known you were NCIS. You were just in your blue jeans, white T and oversized corduroy jacket. There was nothing about you that screamed, ‘Hey I’m a federal agent, stop drop and put your damn hands up.’ “But I do prefer frigates, the occasional patrol boat.”

“So what brought you aboard the HMAS Carlton?” Rooster wasn’t expecting the answer you gave him. From time to time the Navy would accompany researchers and scientists to remote islands, he just assumed perhaps you were the latest one. But no.

“Uh, I’m here making sure that Clarence Diver who was stung by that group of Irukandji jellyfish was just that.” There were some suspicious toxins found in his bloodstream. “I’m Special Agent Y/n Gibbs with the NCIS.” Oh my fucking Christ Rooster was sure he was going into cardiac arrest. Why did you have to be NCIS? “Nice to meet you—“ Clearing your thirst as you paused in your stride. Sticking your hand out to shake the sailors hand who’d stopped to help you.

“Uh Bradley ma’am, Bradley Bradshaw.” Rooster stuck his hand out to meet yours. “Everyone calls me Rooster—“ You weren’t sure when Rooster had dropped your hand, or when you had started walking again. But you had. Side by side.

“Let me guess, you some kinda of cadet? A semen perhaps?” This was Rooster's first posting on a carrier. He was fresh out of the academy and had been abroad for six months. You had a glint in your eye, something worth exploring even though the idea of pursuing a Naval Criminal Investigation Agent scared the ever living Christ out of him.

“I uh—I fly an F-18 Agent Gibbs, I’m a Naval Aviator.” He was so proud of himself. I mean who else was around to be proud of him? So he had to be, for his own sanity. Stopping right in front of the door that read 507. “Guess this is where I leave you—“ news flash, it wasn't. Instantly smitten by the way you softly nodded in response. Pressing your lips together with a small frown.

“Yeah I guess it is huh?” Silence lingered for a moment as you worked up the courage to ask Rooster to hang around. Making up a totally fabricated but believable excuse he’d later find out was all so you could spend a little more time with him. “But now I’ve got no idea how to get back to the galley and I seem to have a pretty good tour guide.”

“Special Agent Gibbs, what on earth are you doing here?” Rooster taunted your official title as he slung his arm around your shoulders. Slumped over the bar as your eyes scanned the bar like a Hawk. “Heard you put Hangman in his place?”

“What the hell is a Hangman?” Your hand came up to grab Roosters softly, your thumb softly working to massage his palm. Turning your head to gently leave a subtle yet lingering kiss on his knuckles. “Oh wait—“ You remembered from conversations you’d had with Bradley in the past. “He’s the guy right, the super cocky one?” Clicking your fingers and squeezing your eyes tight as you tried to place a name to a call sign. “Jack, No—Jake!” Beaming, Bradley kissed your temple.

The sight of Bradshaw and you hitting it off so well sent Jake into a fit. Until he realised you must have been the girl Rooster had been talking about after the uranium mission. The one he wasn’t going to let get away.

“Woah look at you go detective, case closed in a whole minute.” Bradley taunted as he stood beside your barstool. “But seriously, as good as it is to see you here—you can’t be here for something good, it’s Friday baby—“ It was true. Usually wherever you ended up in the United States or on any US naval vessel didn’t usually come with good tidings. The Hard Deck in Miramar was no exception to that rule.

“You know that body that washed up about a week ago a few clicks up the beach?” You mumbled into the neck of your beer bottle as you brought it to your lips. Taking a small sip. “Intelligence believes the man responsible for that is here—and of course where else is there to go in Fraightertown but the most popular hang out point?”

“And you didn't bother to let me know you were coming?” Rooster teased as his hand slipped up your side, featherlike. Leaving goosebumps to rise in the wake of his fingertips. “Could’ve used the heads up.”

“Why? Need a change of pants, Lieutenant?’ It was the way you implied you so easily got Rooster where he needed to be that had his head spinning. You weren't wrong and he surely was feeling a little more restricted. But how could he not be when you were looking so fine. “Pretty sure I've got a pair of tracksuit pants in my carry on that might fit–might be pushing it though.” Winking as you took another sip of your beer. “Think they're grey even–” Roosters hand brushed against your hip. His eyes widened quickly at the realisation. Holy shit you were packing?

“You don’t have a gun in here do you?” Patting your shoulders, Bradley let his hands travel down your back, your gun Halsted. “Shit—you can’t bring a gun in here!!” Rooster's eyes bugged out of his head even more as he sat down beside you on the empty bar stool. “You gonna pepper the place or something? what the hell!” Guns always made Rooster a little uneasy and uncomfortable. But you were still caught up on his first statement.

“You know I’m a federal agent right?” Reminding your soon to be husband of your career choice. “I can bring a gun anywhere I damn please—“ Not that you would, but the idea that you could always did something weird to Rooster. Mentally and sexually.

“You scare the shit out of me.” He should have corrected himself, it wasn’t you that scared him. It was your damn job. Everyone he’d ever met had always told him what he did for a living had to be frightening. But you? Something about the way you so effortlessly did your job without a care in the world, blasé and effective? That scared Rooster. That was terrifying.

“Then leave me to do my job.” Rooster wrapped his leg around one of the legs of your bar stool. Dragging you closer to where he sat. He needed to be closer, needed you closer. “Rooster, honey—I’m in the middle of something here.” You played it off that Rooster was being an annoyance, but really? You loved the cat and mouse dynamic you always had. Loved him with all your heart.

“You got back up in here?” Bradley’s voice softened as his eyes trailed from your eyes to your lips and back to your eyes. Drinking in the sight of you. It was out of worry that he asked, a deep rooted concern for your well-being. “I’m not leaving this stool if you don’t have back up.”

“DiNozzo is by the jukebox.” Tilting your head Dinozzo’s way Bradley followed the direction you had pointed him in. A small wave of peace lapping at his heart. “I’m fine Roo, you don’t have to worry about me—“ You were about to mention the van out the front that held more agents, but Rooster didn't let you finish before he was interrupting.

“Doesn’t stop me though.” Rooster was quick to quip, leaning in closer to kiss your forehead as you ducked to hide your smirk. Cheeks heating with the love that flooded your system. “Worry about you all the time.”

You and Rooster had been together for a total of three weeks when he first got a real glimpse into just how dangerous your job could really be. How it so easily threatened to take you away from him. He’d been called to TopGun. An elite school for the top one percent of pilots. Its purpose was to teach the lost art of aerial combat and to ensure that the handful of men and women who graduated were the best fighter pilots in the world.

As Rooster went about his day, training exercise after the other—Admirial Bates was calling him down with urgency.

“Theres someone on the line for you calling from the Veterans affair’s medical centre—“ Rooster couldn’t place that hospital geographically until Warlock continued. “Seems as though your a registered emergency contact for a Y/n Gibbs?” Washington, that’s where the Veterans affairs hospital was.

“Uh—yeah.” Rooster couldn’t think straight. “I'm clear for landing?” He asked range control before he made any effort to turn around. With a confirmed green light Rooster headed in. He was in the administration building of the base in no time. His chest panting. A thin layer of sweat on his forehead. Panic rising to the surface as he held the phone to his ear.

“This is Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw—“

“Hi Bradley, I’m just calling to let you know we’ve had a miss Gibbs present to the emergency department with a bullet wound to her left thigh—“ Rooster swore he forgot how to breathe as his knuckles went white as the sheer hip he held around the phone. “She’s had to go in for surgery but we’re incredibly hopeful it’s a set standard procedure, just need to remove some of the shrapnel that broke apart.”

“Can you get her to call me when she’s out?” All he wanted to do was hear your voice. “Is she okay?” When did he start crying? Why were his cheeks wet? Blinking away the tears that still threatened to spill over his waterline.

“Absolutely—” The admin assistant chuckled to herself, remembering how reluctant you’d been. “She walked herself in very reluctantly.” Rooster rolled his eyes at the thought of you not taking care of yourself. Of fucking course you’d shug this off as no big deal. “An older man brought her in, signed as Anthony DiNozzo?” That checked out, he’d been your partner since you transferred to your dads division. “Shes in good spirits and good hands, should be out shortly–ill get her to give you abuzz when she's out and feeling a little less dazed.”

That's exactly what the nurse had done. Once you were feeling up to it you called Bradley from your cell. Sitting alone in your hospital room–they wanted to keep you in overnight for observation. You understood, but home just seemed like a much better place to be. Besides, you still had work to do.

“Are you alright? What the hell happened!?” Rooster bellowed into his phone as he sat on the bench in the locker room, he was just finishing up for the day.

“Hi baby, nice to hear your voice too–” You taunted with a slight groan as you tried to move your leg out from under the lightweight blanket. “Im fine, just need to work on my reflexes a little.”

“You were shot Y/n I think you need to work on more than your reflexes, perhaps your proximity to people who want to kill you?” Rooster didn't mean to snap at you, he was just worried. “Since when am I your emergency contact anyway? I thought it would have been your dad or something?”

“Well I mean if you don't wanna be I can change it?” Your tone had softened as you looked down at your leg, wondering how differently this conversation would have been going if that bullet had hit you somewhere else. Or if this conversation would be happening at all. “I just thought you might wanna be.”

“No I do–” Bradley paused for a moment as he swallowed the lump in his chest. “I just worry about you.” He knew that when he first met you you were only a rooky, that you'd get assigned mundane cases that weren't all that life threatening and serious. Like the Irukandji jellyfish guy who'd been doing drugs onboard the Carlton. But as the years went on and you gained more confidence and experience, the less and less you were assigned the meek role of crossing T’s and dotting i’s. You were a full blown field agent and until the moment Bradley Bradshaw got the call to say you'd been injured? He hadnt really put alot of thought into it. “I guess I just never really thought enough about how dangerous your job had become.”

“Says the one who's currently learning the art of aerial combat and defensive manoeuvres.” Yep, you had him there. Rooster knew his job was dangerous, he’d learnt to accept that a long time ago, as did you. Even when you had just been close friends you had to accept the fact Bradley might get deployed somewhere and not come home. But yours had kinda crept up on him. He’d never had to process that kind of worry before. Never knew how gut wrenching the feeling could be. He now knew what his mother had meant when the sick feeling just never really went away. The constant fear that lived rent free in the back of her mind about his dad, about him. “Listen Bradshaw, I'm fine– you don't gotta worry about me.”

“Doesn’t stop me though.” Rooster was quick to quip, leaning his back against his locker willing the moment he could wrap his arms around you to come sooner. He’s asked Admiral Bates for a compassionate leave of absence to go be with you. But he was told unless someone was dead or dying he could very much forget that he even asked. “I’ll worry about you all the time.”

“I can assure you, I know what I'm doing, Bradshaw.” Sitting back upright as you pulled away, finishing the rest of your beer in one final swig. “DiNozzo I can't quite speak on behalf of.” Your tone confused as your eyes followed the direction he was hastily walking, following a man across the length of the Hard Deck. Hot on his tail. His hand going to ghost his holster as he pushed past people who flocked in his way. “Oh fuck hang on–” Jumping to your feet in an instant as you watched the man DiNozzo had identified as Bodmin wrap his arm around the neck of one of the Naval Aviators sitting peacefully at one of the round tables. Rooster felt sick to his stomach as he stood, unable to comprehend what was going on. What had poor Bob done to be brought into this. Dragged to his feet as his hands came up to grasp the man's forearms. A gun to his temple quickly escalated the situation ten fold. “NCIS DROP YOUR WEAPON!!” Shouting as you drew your weapon from your hoster, holding it at eye height. “I said drop your weapon!!” Jake Seresin had been taken aback by only a few things in his life– this? Oh this took the goddamn cake. Bradshaw with an NCIS Agent? Never in a million years did he think that man had that kinda game.

“I DIDN'T KILL THAT MAN–” Bob swore he saw his life flash before his very eyes as he stood trapped between you and the man who had him by the next with the barrel of his gun pressing against his temple. Fear evident in his eyes. “I DIDN'T HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH IT.” Well of course you did? Why else would you pull a gun out in the middle of a heavily populated bar and take a person hostage? Your inner thoughts didn’t match your next sentence, you needed to gain this guy's trust before there was brain matter splattered across the nice hardwood floor that probably had some historical value to it.

“That's great man, really–why don't we just have a bit of a chat about it, yeah?” Trying to deescalate the situation the best you could as you took a single step forward. Slowly and every so carefully. “I mean if you weren't involved you're pretty much a free man, why ruin that shooting this guy huh?” Rooster wanted to reach out and grab you. Stop you from getting any closer, fighter every fibre of his being that told him to protect you. His eyes welled with tears, mixing with fear and adrenaline as he turned his head slightly to where Hangman and Coyote stood in complete stillness—both trying just as hard as Rooster to comprehend the situation unfolding.

Shit like this didn’t happen at the fucking Hard Deck.

“I don’t fucking trust you!” You could very much tell this guy was losing his mind. Quickly. Making a rash decision to gain his trust immediately. Rooster watched from behind as you put your hands up in surrender. Your finger pushing the safety on your handgun before the clip fell to the ground.

“What about now?” Slowly but surely crouching as you placed the handgun on the ground, your eyes never for a second leaving Bob's eyes.

“Gibbs—“ DiNozzo gave you a warning look. Clearly unimpressed by your actions. Reckless and dangerous. Standing off to the right behind the man who had Bob hostage, his gun still drawn.

“I’m unarmed.” Standing just as slowly as you had crouched. Your hands came back to the height of your head. Palms facing the man. “Let’s talk, but first you gotta let him go—“

“Uh uh, not a chance sweetheart.” Damn. It was worth a shot right? The man, Daniel Bodmin had been identified as one of the men who’d been out finishing with marine Author Avery. He’d washed ashore five days after being reported missing when a storm hit off the coast of San Diago. It seemed pretty set standard until autopsy results came back that Avery had ingested five hundred grams of cocaine in small plastic bags. That mixed with the twenty four thousand dollars sim cash found stashed behind the backboard of one of the seats on the fishing boat made it suspiciously suspect Avery may have been killed. The smell of foul play in the air. “The second I don’t have leverage, you're partner here is gonna put a bullet in my spine.”

“I’m pretty tempted to just do it anyway—“ DiNozzo piped up as he eyes down the suspect. “I’m a pretty good shot.” It was your turn to send him the same warning look he’d given you. Your hands still up beside your head in surrender as you took another slow hesitant step forward. Rooster couldn’t breathe.

“Okay so I’ll make a trade, you let him go—and you take me. That way we can talk, just you and me. Outside.”

“NO!” Rooster shouted as he took a step towards you, his chest pressed against your back before you knew what was happening. “No way.”

“Lieutenant Bradshaw so help me god if you don’t step back this second I’ll have you arrested for interfering with a federal investigation.” It absolutely pained you to say but if Bradley wasn’t going to stand down you were going to make him one way or the other. “Go stand with Jake—“

“Y/n don’t do this!“ Leaning over your shoulder to whisper through gritted teeth, Bradley begged you, the love of his life—not to do this. “I can’t lose you too.”

“I will cuff you to the pool table if I have to—“ It was tough love, sure. But you needed to do your damn job before Bob or anyone else for that matter got hurt. “Go, now.” The tone you used had gone to a new level of seriousness, you weren’t messing around. If need be, you’d cuff Bradley Bradshaw to that pool table and leave him there if that meant he was out of your way. If it meant you could do your damn job.

With hesitance and his tail between his legs, Rooster backed away slowly. Eyeing off the man who had Bob by the next and a gun pressed to his temple. There would surely be an indent by the time he was let go. Hands up surrender style—Rooster made his way over to where Hangman and Coyote stood dumbfounded.

“Are your eyes glued to your head or some shit man?” Javy hissed as Rooster stood beside him. “The fuck is wrong with you!?”

“She’s the love of my life, man.” You couldn’t blame Rooster for acting in your defence. It was in his inherent nature to protect the ones he loved so deeply, tenderly and oh so fiercely. “My whole god damn world.” He’d never been so scared to lose you before this very moment. The fallout of the uranium mission had him racing across the west coast of the country all the way to Washington where you were based. Knowing he came an inch to losing his life. Far too many times to count. On the way back Rooster had confided in Hangman for a brief moment. Mentioning that there had been a girl, a girl so fierce and loving and kind that he couldn't help but to wonder how you'd mourn him. He didn't mention specific things like how long you’d know each other or how long you two had been dating. Rooster didn't mention what you did for work or even how he’d had his mothers engagement ring resized off another ring he’d stolen from your jewellery stand.

Rooster had simply told Jake Seresin that for a moment there if he hadn’t come after him and Pete? There would have been a heartbroken soul at his funeral. A woman so willing to pray for him, take his pain for him, save his soul from himself. Bradley Bradshaw had always been the one left behind, but that day he almost left you. And he wasn't ready to do that without having made it one thousand percent clear that you were the love of his life. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

“Bradley? What–what are you doing here?” You questioned as he came through your front door. The key you'd gifted him nestled nicely in between all his other keys. Standing from your stop on the lounge–Youd been curled up watching Criminal Minds. “I thought you weren't supposed to be home for a few more days?”  Taking massive strides to get to you Bradly simply engulfed you in a warm embrace. Hugging you so tightly because there were a few moments there he thought he'd never get to hug you again. Smell your hair, feel how cold you ran against his usually hot self.

“I couldn't wait to see you for one more second.” You could hear it in his voice, fuck. Something had happened, hadn't it. But more importantly you could see it in his eyes as he pulled away to meet your gaze in the dimly lit living room or your modest two bedroom two bathroom townhouse. Big enough for you and big enough for Bradley Bradshaw. With a little extra room for a guest here and there. “As soon as I was dismissed I jumped in the Bronco and headed straight for the airport.”

“That's a pretty long flight –” You were trying to get a read on the situation. What makes a man drive almost the entire West Coast of the United States so pressingly? What on earth was going on inside his head. “Do you want a coffee or something? I can make you a fresh pot?”

“Uh yeah that would be nice.” Bradley replied softly as he brought your forehead to his lips by pressing the palm of his hand to the back of your head. Letting you go as you wondered your way into the kitchen. The kettle already empty and waiting to be filled.

Rooster couldn't wait another second, he had to ask. Following you as he fished the small black velvet box that held his mothers engagement ring out of his pocket. Opening it and he stood behind you. Your hips pressing against the lip of the kitchen bench as you filled the kettle with a soft smile on your face. Bradley's hand came to lean against the countertop as he kissed your neck softly. Peppering small butterfly-like kisses up and down the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“What do you think you're playing at?” Taunting the naval aviator who you’d missed so dearly as you turned around, leaning against the countertop as you held the kettle now full of water. It wasn't long before it had found its new home on the tiles. Water cascading across the gloss white flooring. Your hands coming up to cup your mouth. Jaw hung slack as a gasp escaped. Eyes wide with pure shock as Bradley Bradshaw trapped you against the countertop and himself. Holding the open velvet box in his hand with a soft smile and watery eyes. “Brad–”

“I almost didn't come home this time.” It was a sentence you never wanted to hear but were still thankful enough to hear him say it. It was and would always be better than the alternative. The home calls all military men and women dreaded. The one where officials inform you of a loss. “And it made me realise that I now have someone to leave behind.”

“Bradley–” You tried to speak as you cupped his cheeks. Pressing your forehead against his as you stood on the tips of your toes to meet his lips.

“Marry me Y/n, marry me.” It was a question you didn't need to ponder or consider saying anything but yes to immediately. Watching as Bradley dropped down to one knee before you. Following him down. “I love you so much and I just–Ican't stand the thought of not having you in my life for whatever time I have here.” It was the honest truth of the matter. “And I want you all to myself, as my wife, my best friend.

“Yes.” It was all you said before you crashed into him. Your arms wrapping around his neck as you both fell to the floor, rooster on his back in the mess of water as you fell atop him. Melting together as your tongues danced and hands roamed. “I love you so much more.”

“Do we have a deal?” Your voice brought Rooster back into the room. His eyes trained on you as you kept your hands up and your eyes on bob. He looked like he was keeping it together. But you knew from experience the second he was let go he could react in all kinds of ways. You'd seen it all. “I said do we have a deal?” You weren't in the mood for this, to play silly games with peoples lives. “Bodmin!”

“Yes yes we have a deal!” He shouted. Accepting your proposal for a trade off. your self for Bob. Slowly making your way over to him, you took Bob's hand in yours. He was shaking something chronic. He’d been in situations where life and death seemed not too far apart but this? He’d never be able to forget the feeling of having his life threatened by another person.

“Floyd?” You said Bob’s last name allowed, committing the name that was proudly displayed on his name badge to memory. “Got a first name?” You vaguely remembered, it was something that started with a B. Bradley had mentioned so many people it was hard to keep track sometimes.

“Bob–” huh, You finally had a face to go with the stories Bradley had told you late at night in the kitchen. One in particular coming to mind, the bird strike. “Robert.”

“Well Bob, today's your lucky day.” You were sure to take your time as the man released Bob from his grasp, pulling Bob towards you step by step. “If you call being held hostage lucky–”

“You don't have to do this, you know.” Bob whispered as you turned around, it was now you who had your back to Bodmin. With a gentle smile you let his hands drop. The barrel of the gun that had once been held to Bob’s temple now pressing against the small of your back. “You don't have to risk your life for me–”

“It's kinda my job.” That was all you really had time to say before you were being marched towards the front door of the Hard Deck. Rooster sent DiNozzo a look as if to ask what the hell was he doing just letting you play self sacrificing damsel. DiNozzo just shrugged, his gun still drawn and locked onto Bodmin's back from across the room. “How do you wanna do this Dan? You gonna shoot a lady in the back? You know thats considered murder right?” It was now that you were getting Daniel right where you needed him to be that you started playing mind games. “If you’re already going down for the murder of Avery you may as well go two for two right?” DiNozzo could hear everything you were saying through his ear piece. When he got the chance? He was gonna slap the god damn shit out of the back of your head for being so undeniably reckless. “You killed him for the money didn't you? You just didn't know where he’d stashed it. So you panicked.”

“What happened to innocent until proven guilty huh?”

“You held a gun to a naval aviator's head–you’re as good as done.”

“Shut up before I put a goddamn bullet in you–” Shoving you out the front door was probably the dumbest thing Daniel Bodmin could have done. Because as you stepped out onto the front deck of the Hard Deck bar? A few dozen of your agents had him surrounded. Within milliseconds.

Bradley's heart fell out his arse when he heard a single gunshot come from outside. Shouting from all over the place ensued as he ran to where he’d last seen you, right out the front door.

“Y/n!!” He was expecting the worst, to see you lying on the ground with a bullet between your eyes. But that's not what he saw. Far from it actually. Special Agent DiNozzo was hot on Rooster's tail. Fuck. This couldn't be happening, this was meant to be a routine god damn op.

To both men's surprise, you had your knee pressed into Daniel Bodmin's back. He was face down on the deck with his hands cuffed behind his back, his gun discarded. Looking up at Rooster with a smirk evident on your face as Daniel squired under the pressure you were forcing him down with.

“Hi fellas.” You beamed like nothing unorthodox had just taken place. “DiNozzo, what the hell took you so long man–?”

“I was trying to listen to what everyone on comms was saying but it got all jumbled.” DiNozzo explained as he holstered his gun. Leaning down to take over the apprehension of Daniel Bodmin. “All I heard was gett him outside then you started going all awol of me like some suicidal maniac.” Pulling the now detained suspect to his feet. “When we get back to Quantico you best believe Gibbs is gonna be pissed.”

“When is he ever not?” You replied with a sigh. Turning your attention to Rooster who stood off to the side. The entire squad looking out the windows, peeping eyes looking over the windowsills to catch a glimpse of the action happening outside. This had been the most exhilarating situation the Hard Deck Bar had ever seen. Penny swore she was about ready to sell the damn place. “I'm sorry I threatened to arrest you, you know I wou–” before you could finish your sentence Bradley’s hands were clasping your cheeks. Pulling you against him as he kissed you with so much love and admiration you could taste it.

“I’ve never been so fucking worried about you—“ Roosted kissed you deeper this time, he knew what he was playing at as well. The whole ‘let me kiss her so she can’t speak’ shtick. Only pulling away with enough time so he could. “You’ve told me this stuff seems so normal to you but I want you to know it’s not—it’s beyond dangerous and I can't believe how easily you put down your weapon.” Rooster was projecting his own insecurities about your job onto you. Placing your hand over your lips as he came back to kiss you. Colliding with your open palm.

“You have a medallion sitting over our fireplace because you defied direct orders and single handedly flew into enemy territory knowing damn well you didn't have the ammunition to fight back–all to save the lives of others.” Yep. You had him with that one. “What is the difference here? Spot it and I'll give you five bucks Bradshaw–” Rooster just pulled you into his chest. His arms wrapping around your shoulders, his chin resting on the top of your head. Looking out as the sun set lower and slower on the horizon.

“I guess there isn't much in it.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Twenty minutes. That how much time had passed since Rooster saw you held at gun point, since he saw Bob held at gunpoint. It was standard protocol, you had Bob sitting at a nearby picnic table outside of the Hard Deck taking a witness statement.

“And you’re sure you’re alright? You don’t feel like you need to get checked out or anything?” You had your windbreaker one. The dark blue oversized jacket that proudly displayed NCIS on the back.

“No ma’am, thanks to you I’m in one peice.” You smiled softly at him, honestly you were just doing your job. “I didn’t know Rooster had a fiancée—“ You closed your little notepad before pocketing it in the back of your jean pocket. “Wish we’d met under different circumstances.”

“It is a little unorthodox isn’t it.” You chuckled, tapping Bob in the shoulder before making your way over to Rooster. He’d been watching you like a Hawk as you did your thing. Told people where to go and who to talk to, lead the investigation as NCIS agents went in and out of the Hard Deck. Talking to other witnesses for as many recollections as possible to aid the prosecution. “I’m thinking of staying until Tuesday if you feel like some company?” You mentioned as you approached Bradley, he stool with his arms crossed over his chest. Just admiring you from a far. He never really got the chance to watch you work. “If not I can always get a room at the motel down the road.”

“Well I usually don’t bring in strays—“ Taunting you as you bumped your hip against your finance’s playfully, your tongue sticking out against the inner part of your cheek as his smart ass comment. “But I’m sure I can make an exception.” You and Bradley had spoken a few times about the possibility of maybe buying a house in Freightertown now that he was there on more of a permanent basis. You’d keep the rental in Washington for convenience—but the idea would eventually see you come to San Diago as well. “You can’t get mad about the dishes piled as high as Everest in the sink though.”

“I’m not gonna say a word—“ Rooster swore he saw your nose grow an inch longer. He knew you’d say something about the mess, he’d let it get a little out of hand this week. He’d been starting early and finishing late—leaving little time for upkeep on the day to day basics.

“Agent Gibbs?” One of your Agents approached you followed by two men you’d never seen before in your life. “This is officer Radavic and Wilcox—NSA.”

“What’s NSA want with our case?” You questioned and the men showed you their badges and credentials. Rooster didn’t know if he should leave or stay. Choosing to stay as you crossed your arms across your chest.

“Daniel Bodmin was a foreign national with information considered a threat to the United States of America.” You couldn't believe what you were hearing. This entire case had been blown way out of the realm of what you originally thought it to be. “We figured we’d jump in, take things off your hands.” With a scoff and a small laugh you shook your head. Kicking your heel in the rough gravel underneath your shoe.

“This case is NCIS jurisdiction–regardless if Bodmin is of interest to NSA—“ Something was off, way off. If NSA was interested they would have made contact way before now. And they’d use the proper channels to do so, not just show up in Miramar unannounced. Perhaps you were too much like your father, or maybe you just didn’t believe the story from the get go.

“Well, I personally believe it would be in the best interest of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service to work with us, after all? We are on the same side.” Yeah, no. There was something incredibly off about these two. “Have you been able to find anything on–” Before the supposed NSA  Agent had the chance to finish his sentence you were sending your shine directly between his legs. Pulling his shoulders forward into you as you did so. Immediately he went down like a sack of shit, groaning as his partner went at Rooster. Not knowing he wasn't NCIS.

“Hey woah what the–!” Rooster was pretty quick on the draw, you'd give your soon to be husband that. He didn't need your help when it came to defending himself. His knuckles would surely be bruised up slightly after he was done and the other agent was on the ground. “What are you doing! You heard the guy? You're on the same team?” Roosters eyes were as wide as saucers as he turned back to you, fixing his shirt after having laid the other agent on his ass. Unconscious.

“Im pretty sure he's not NSA–” Bending over to retrieve both their weapons as a few agents rushed to the scene. Taking them into custody.

“Pretty sure!?” Bradley shouted through gritted teeth. “Because you teed off on him like you were kicking a field goal!”

“Rooster, I've got a hunch they're working with Bodmin alright, they might be foreign oppritives—just slow your roll there.” Trying to calm your fiancé down as you dusted him off. Sand everywhere.

“Oh my gosh! Y/n, sweetheart, baby girl no you don't just kick a guy in the junk on a hunch–“ Rooster groaned as he held his stomach. “Gees, sometimes I don't even know you, who does that?” You shrugged it off with a chuckle, intertwining your arm with Roosters as yiu walked back into the Hard Deck—all eyes on you as you looked up. A good set of twelve eyes all locked onto you. “Uh, I think this might be a good time to introduce you to my colleagues here.” Rooster mumbled as he kissed the top of your head. Nodding in response you waved at everyone who just stood stunned, still processing what had happened earlier.

“You must be colleagues huh?”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“So how’d you know they were bogus?” You’d all been sitting around the pool table. You’d noticed pretty quickly just how close Bob had stayed to the side of the women who’d come racing to the Hard Deck not ten minutes after you’d placed Bodmin under arrest. When Bradley had introduced you she’d pulled you in for a hug, said thank you for saving Bob's life and told you her name was Nat.

“Theyre accents–” You replied to Coyote who just shook his head in disbelief. God you were cool. How on earth did Rooster manage to find a girl like you?

“Nope, they didn't have accents.” Rooster saw how everyone was looking at you like you were the coolest person they’d ever encountered. Flying high he decided to shoot you down for his own enjoyment. Bring you back down to earth where he and the commoners lived. Standing between Bradley legs as he sat on one of the barstools with your back against his chest. You turned as his arms came down from their home on your shoulders. His hands lingering on your hips.

“Rooster, sweetheart, baby boy.” You teased, knowing exactly what he was doing. “Do you know the difference between French open syllabic organisation and English archaic speech patterning?” Giving him a taste of his own medicine. He didn’t respond—simply smirking as he took a sip of his beer. Eyes never leaving yours. Fucking smart arse.

“What that old chestnut?” Hangman mumbled as he smirked into the beer bottle he held to his lips. The whole crew minus Bob were indulging in a few too many alcoholic beverages. “Nah, what the hell even is that?” Fuck—Rooster could count his lucky stars with you that was for damn sure. “They probably have some diplomatic unity or some bullshit.”

“That's exactly why we threw em in county.” A familiar voice entered the chat. “They’ll be lucky to even get a phone call by christmas. '' DiNozzo snickered as he picked up a handful of the peanuts sitting in a bowl on the edge of the pool table. Looking at him so disappointed and puzzled as to where he’d gone this whole time– He shot you a questioning look back. “What? What's that look for?”

“Where the hell have you been—?” It was a legitimate question you wanted an answer to. DiNozzo just frowned as he took the handful of nuts into his mouth.

“Escorting our perp into county, why? what did I miss?” Looking around, no one wanted to give him an answer. “I'm pretty sure we’re good here don't you think? Besides, I’m gonna head back to the motel and get a good rest in before giving our two NSA impersonators the old razzle dazzle tomorrow–” Bradley chuckled to himself as you lent back to him. His chin resting on your shoulder.

“Just don't let Agent Bradshaw here interrogate them.” You would soon have to get used to that. Special Agent Bradshaw. It sounded funny but in the best of ways. Like a new house. Sure it felt foregin at first but soon it would become a home. Rolling your eyes as you sighed dramatically.

“Why is that?” DiNozzo questioned with squinted eyes. “What did you do–?”

“She kicked one of the guys right in the non day plumes!” Bradley scoffed over your shoulder, feeling you pull away in defeat as you stood with your arms crossed, sending him a glare– telling him to get over it already. God you loved him. So much.

“No–” Anthony played into it. Holding his hands together to cover his crotch. “She didn’t–”

“Yep–Guy didn't even have his weapon out.” You couldn't believe how big of a deal Bradley was making out of this.

“Really!?” DiNozzo was flabbergasted. “Gibbs, that's just outright assault.” You didn't know who to stare at more, Anthony or Bradley as the group watched on with laughter and smirks.

“Mmhmm, right in the cul de sac, kicked him so hard it gave me a stomach ache.” Okay this was getting out of hand.

“So what!” Throwing your hands up in defeat. “Would it have been better if I pistol whipped him across the face?”

“YES!!” Every single man you stood with said allowed in unison. You couldn't believe it. Even Natasha rollered her eyes.

“I'd rather be held at gun point–” Bob pipped up as Phoenix softly slapped him in the chest with the back of her hand. The group couldn't help but to laugh, settling in soon after into their own conversations as you said bye to DiNozzo and turned all of your attention back to Rooster.

“You done?” Questioning his childishness you glared at him yet again with a soft smirk. “Or should I get that hotel room after all?”

“Oh No–” Bradley Bradshaw had never jumped from his seat so fast in his life. Finishing his beer as he did so. “No you're coming home with me.” kissing your cheek as he whispered in your ear. “I specifically remember you mentioning handcuffs and I don't know about you but I'm keen to play cops and robbers.”

Would you like to read more of NCIS Bradley? The series Masterlist is linked here

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @auroraboreallisfine @tigerfan24 @atarmychick007

#top gun bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x f!reader #ncis imagine #top gun fandom #bradley bradshaw one shot #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction

[sprucewoodmpreg]

hi vaguely serious messy post about hermitblr and new members and just. letting everyone know that we’ve had history with cc interaction on here before that i think would be useful for people to learn about

Trafficblr/Hermitblr has seen a lot of growth lately, largely in part from people migrating over here from the DSMP side of MCYTblr. This in of itself is completely fine! New people jumping onto the bus with us are always welcome, and the growth of the community as a whole is really nice to see.

However, I have noticed a lot of these newer blogs sharing the same very specific behaviours, and if possible, I’d like to just make a few things about the community and our history clear. Because this isn’t DSMP, and the CCs here handle content creation and their own fanbases very differently to them.

While I’m not going to go in-depth on 2019 since I don’t have nearly as much information about it as other people do, I would like to say that back then, Hermitblr was kind of an active war zone. It was comparable to how Hermittwt is now, with infighting about shipping and similar topics being the norm (however in Hermitblr’s case many of these argument were far more personal due to the smaller fandom size). What I want to point out specifically however, is when one of the CCs, Cleo, was thrown into the community infighting. I don’t remember the specifics of it, but she was sent an ask asking about shipping, and her opinions on it, and eventually dealt with so much backlash that she was forced to leave the site entirely (this post here has a slightly more comprehensive summary, if need be).

I’m just a little concerned, because there seems to have been a slight increase in that demographic of people recently. Specifically, members of the community who want to rely on CCs to dictate what happens in fan spaces; for them to give us bullet point lists of what their exact boundaries are for every single situation.

This rarely ends well. As in, it almost always just causes infighting and hostility. There will always be people making content that will “break boundaries”, regardless of any creator’s wishes. However, this is usually mitigated by the fact that many of these CCs aren’t on Tumblr (at least not anymore....mostly). The problem arises when members of the community attempt to act as Heroes Of Justice, and go out of their way to send asks to other blogs, informing them exactly of how they’ve broken the boundaries of some 40 year old adult. This is all despite the fact that said adult will....never see whatever post went against their wishes. It just encourages policing and this weird superiority....thing, where despite the lack of content creators, people are still fighting to make sure that the site is clean from any possibly upsetting posts.

I say this all while also acknowledging that many of the creators in this sphere also don’t have a very comprehensive understanding of how fandom interacts with their “characters”. To them, “shipping” has always been RPF, and there are so many other aspects of the community that simply can’t be explained easily, as they haven’t been immersed in this culture like we have. This is to say that asking for “boundaries” is likely to get you a very confused and unhelpful answer, as the Hermits have always had a very different way of interacting and viewing their fanbase than the DSMP creators do. There is no “c!” or “cc!” to them, to put it simply.

Essentially, the Hermits are adults. They’ve been doing content creation for years, and I can guarantee you they’ve seen worse things in their lives than art of their Minecraft character kissing another Minecraft character. They’ve dealt with this shit before, and if they wanted it to stop, they’re free to make a post about it whenever want. And yet, they haven’t. They leave fandom up to us. Boundaries and rules and infighting and just...all of that? Let’s leave it to the Twitter users, please. Post what you want, make sure to tag your posts correctly, and we’ll all be fine. 

Also, while I’m going to try not to rehash any discourse about inviting CCs to Tumblr, I also do just want to implore you guys to consider that the environment on Hermittwt is partially the way it is because of the active presence of the Hermits there, with people flocking for attention or a single notice, and obsessively checking posts to make sure they’re not potentially “boundary-breaking” and such. Please just consider that many people are here to avoid the dynamics of that site. Tumblr is a site for fans, not for the CCs. So we create content here for ourselves, and not for them. Having creators join almost always leads to the culture of their fanbase on here changing, with content posted in the maintags being catered more towards them rather than the fanbase. (This isn’t to say that they can’t join!! But at least keeping in mind why many of us are here in the first place and weighing that against potential CC interactions would mean a lot).

I fear that my point may have been lost a little bit, but I hope my explanation at least brings a little bit of light to why many members of the community here are wary of Creators coming over to the site, and also of how many newer blogs tend to treat the CCs. Hermitblr has had some really bad history in the past when it comes to this stuff, and seeing newer fans bring over similar ideas from DSMPblr just worries me a little bit.

TL:DR - Just...please treat the Hermits like the adults they are, and keep in mind they have a very different dynamic with their fanbases to the DSMP creators. Asking for “boundaries” and granting CCs control of the fanbase will likely lead you nowhere; attempting to police fanspaces here just brings up bad memories of times when Hermitblr was a much more miserable place to be in. Plus, if you want CC interactions, please just go to twitter. Nobody here wants to deal with an attempted “cleanse” of the site to make it more palatable to CCs.

#i hope this is ok. again im not. trying to police or be a ''fandom mom'' or fucking. whatever #just giving my 2 cents on the subject. take it or leave it i don't care im not the boss of you and you dont have to listen to me #also gen if you see this and want me to remove your post just send me an ask and i'll take it out #discourse #if i said anything goofy or fucked up lmk because while i did try 2 proofread this im also not very concise nor clear #just gonna hit post. assuming this isn't gonna get more than like. 20 notes anyway so i likely wont have to worry abt ppl getting mad @ me

[happy-hermit]

LAST LIFE SCAR ANGST PART TWO BABY :D

Thank you everyone for your enthusiasm with this fic akdkjdh it really kept me going. ( @stiffyck this is still for you)( @hopepetal here’s the tag u asked for I love your writing by the way I’m so happy you like this fic alskjdjd)

Part One

———

A few days pass where nothing and everything happens in equal measurements. The returned hermits work on settling back into normal — well, relatively normal — life, and they tend to only see each other in passing. They get caught up in old and new projects, filled with an urgency that came from being away for so long.

Scar himself spends most of his time gathering items. It’s mindless, repetitive work. Time consuming. Calming, almost. It’s boring enough that he doesn’t think anyone will bother to bother him. (He ignores the way his chest pangs at the thought. It doesn’t matter. It can’t.)

Jellie follows him around most of the time, even if he can’t always see her. She’s a comforting presence, and he knows that she’s only there because she wants to be. He doesn’t have to write up a contract to convince her to stay. She’s there for him. It’s just… nice, is all. To know that.

Scar wanders around with shulker boxes full of wood and leaves and sand and he pretends that he’s not avoiding everyone. It’s not like he doesn’t see them at all, and in fact he always grins and waves when he happens to run into someone. He just — doesn’t stay long. Doesn’t want to overstay a welcome he isn’t sure he has.

Daytime is easier. He can be busy during the day. He can forget. At night, though, he lays in bed and he hurts. His chest aches, and he’s cold, and he’s alone, always. Jellie is there, sure, and she counts, of course, but—

Well. Jellie can’t hug him. She can’t talk to him. She doesn’t know why he’s sad.

More than once, he finds himself outside of a Boatem member’s base in the dead of night, hand poised to knock and heart tugging him forward. He can’t do it, though. He doesn’t really know why — doesn’t want to think about it for too long. He’s pretty sure his mind would lead him back to an isolated mountain with a single bed set haphazardly in a corner. Thinks he would only be reminded of the way people had only ever visited if they’d wanted something from him.

He never knocks, those nights. He instead demolishes frankly absurd amounts of land for resources he doesn’t yet have plans for. He doesn’t sleep at night. It’s fine.

He manages to believe that for two weeks before it all falls apart.

———

The nights have been getting colder, since they all got back. Maybe it’s the season changing, or maybe it’s whatever has started happening with the moon; either way, Scar is thankful that he’s wearing a jacket. The fact that he’s soaked through to the bone is a little less ideal.

It’s a well known side effect of glow squid hunting, though, so he can’t really blame it on anyone but himself. It certainly ensured that he wouldn’t be falling asleep on his feet anytime soon. Of which there was a very real danger, if the cotton stuffed into his head and the lead weighing down his eyelids is any indication. The glow ink splattered on his hands and sleeves is starting to look a little blurry, and he instead focuses on just making it back to the Swaggon without keeling over.

The universe has it out for him, though, so when the first phantom crashes talons-first into his back, all he can do is fall.

He hits the ground with a strangled yelp, his sack of hard-earned glow squid ink flying out of his hand and splattering across the grass. It’s pretty. And heartbreaking. He supposes he hadn’t really needed it for anything…

The phantoms screech angrily overhead, and his back throbs and he scrambles to roll over onto it anyway, because he can’t stand up just yet and he at least wants to be able to see what’s coming—

He lurches to the right as another phantom dives towards him, and the talons only connect with his upper arm as opposed to his chest. He’ll call that one a win.

“Oh geez— Ow, come on, you can’t kick a man when he’s down!” Scar scrambles backwards across the grass, voice high and eyes wide as he resorts to attempting to reason with things that don’t understand him.

There are three of them circling him, and he scrambles to his feet just in time to catch a set of razor-sharp teeth in his shoulder. He yells and swats at it blindly, somehow managing to hit its eyes and smear glow ink across its wildly flapping wing. The phantom detaches itself from him, and he doesn’t even have time to be relieved before another is diving towards him.

He runs.

His shoulder hurts and his arm hurts and his back hurts and he’s cold and wet and no one has touched him gently in months, and he runs.

He doesn’t mean to go to Grian’s house. He had wanted to go home. (Maybe it’s telling, that he’d ended up here instead.)

A phantom bites at his leg as he reaches the alleyway, fake stars shining above him and horrifying undead creatures punishing him for his insomnia close behind him. Pain ricochets up his calf and down his ankle and he frantically tries to shake it loose, crashing to the ground again and crying out when the impact aggravates his other wounds. He knows without looking that his health is getting low. Dangerously low. And he hates respawning, he doesn’t want to, and maybe it won’t even work, maybe he’s used up his last life and he’s going to die alone just like he lived alone, and all he’ll be is a ghost haunting a world that barely notices his absence.

(That’s maybe too dramatic, but he’s dying and he’s tired and every night he holds his own hand and pretends he’s not alone. He feels entitled to a breakdown.)

He curls up against the ground with his eyes shut tight, resigned to the fact that he’ll have to get up and pick up his scattered items in a few minutes, resigned to the body aches that will follow him around for the next few days, resigned to the jokes that will pop up in chat after his death message goes out.

All he can hear is his own heartbeat in his ears, phantoms screeching and injuries stinging in a way that feels distant. Any second now. Any moment.

A hand lands on his shoulder, distinctly and painfully human, and he gasps, eyes flying open as he scrambles into a sitting position. His leg throbs angrily and his arm sends shocks of pain throughout his entire body and Scar tries his best to stay quiet — no one can know he’s hurt, they’ll kill him, they’ll make him give up a life — but a high-pitched sound of pain escapes his throat anyway. The blurry shape of a person kneeling in front of him freezes.

“—an you hear me? Scar?” The voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater, but it’s familiar. It feels like safe and danger at the same time. It sounds worried. “You’re hurt, please—“

“‘m fine,” Scar manages to get out, strained and quiet and mostly on autopilot.

“Wha— Scar, you are not fine, you absolute…”

The voice trails off into grumbling and Scar blinks slowly, looking down at himself. He’s covered in glow ink and his own blood and torn clothes. The clothes don’t look like the right color. He’s pretty sure they’re supposed to be purple.

“Wrong…” Scar mumbles, poking at his clothes. It seems important.

“Maybe because you’re bleeding all over it, Scar, just—“ The figure huffs, just a blob of red and tan, and something is moving behind him. Scar squints. The person seems angry. His weak heart rate picks up.

“D’ you… want a life?” Scar asks, confused and hurt. He can’t think. “I won’t… not for free. Let’s… A deal?”

The blurry person makes some sort of noise that makes Scar think he said something wrong. It sounds like it was punched out of them. Something’s wrong, he said something wrong. Scar’s eyelids are starting to droop, but he forces them open with a whine. The person lurches forward a bit, like they’re trying to catch him, but he’s not falling. Is he?

“D… Don’t go,” Scar pleads, mind scrambling to put together a sales pitch on why they should stay. “I can… I have— if you…”

His vision goes darker around the edges, as his own voice starts to echo in his head. The figure is saying something again, sounding frantic, scared. He wonders why. He hadn’t meant to be scary. He doesn’t think he’s in a condition to even try to be.

The last thing he sees before the darkness takes hold is a hand reaching out.

———

The first thing he’s aware of, when he wakes up, is not pain. It’s the gentle touch of a hand on his arm, lifting it and wrapping something around it. It still stings, but less so; most likely he’d been given a health potion. He feels warm. Sleepy. He opens his eyes.

The last thing he remembers is phantoms chasing him into Grian’s alley, and then someone finding him. Now with a slightly clearer head, he can only assume it had been Grian himself.

Slowly, he turns his head against the pillow he’s resting on, and he blinks sluggishly at the person currently bandaging his arm. It is Grian, with lines of worry in his face and his wings folded right against his back in that way that meant he was scared. Scar’s brow furrowed.

“…G?” His voice is hoarse, quiet, but Grian’s head still snaps up as if he’d shouted. “What’s wrong?”

Grian’s wings fluff up a little, something like angry disbelief swirling in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Grian repeats, half-hysterical. He drops the roll of bandages onto the bed and gestures wildly at Scar’s body. “You keel over in my alley dying of blood loss and you’re asking me what’s wrong?”

“Well, you do seem to be taking it harder than I am,” Scar jokes half-heartedly, attempting to sit up. Grian immediately pushes him back down, and Scar is too shocked to protest.

“Nope, you don’t get to deflect,” Grian says, and somehow it’s as gentle as it is stern. “I know what phantoms mean, Scar, and — and you didn’t even know who I was when I found you. So— so get talking. I know you know how.”

Nerves flare in his stomach, and he breaks eye contact to stare at the wall, inspecting all the random knick knacks on the shelves. He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to explain what he’s been feeling since the games, especially since everyone else seems to have moved on already. It feels silly, suddenly, for his biggest problem to be that he’s lonely. That he doesn’t think anyone wants him around.

“Scar,” Grian says, and it’s softer now. “I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.”

There’s a lump in his throat and a burning in his eyes, and for just a moment Scar pretends that his heartbreak is anger. He sits up, ignoring Grian’s protesting, and he points an accusing finger at the avian.

“Now you want to stay?” Scar says, powering through even when his voice cracks. “Because last I checked, all— all you wanted to do was leave.”

“Scar, what—“

“No, you wanted me to talk! I’m talking!” Scar’s chest hurts, and his hands are cold, and something in him has been breaking for a very long time. “You— you couldn’t wait to tell me that any alliance from the last games were over. And then when I— When I thought I had Mumbo you came and took him away, too.” Scar cradles his shaking hands close to his stomach and looks away, anger slowly draining. “And then Joel— and then I had no one. And no one wanted to— I tried, Grian, but no one wanted to—“

He closes his eyes tightly, trying to stop the inevitable. “No one wanted to stay,” he finishes quietly. “I… I don’t know what I did. I don’t know why no one…”

Scar trails off, laughing a little and rubbing at his eyes, trying to stop the tears before they fall on Grian’s blanket. “I’m sorry. I don’t— I’m just tired.”

“Scar,” Grian says softly, and something about his voice is strange. “Please look at me.”

Scar looks. Grian has asked him, and he looks.

Grian is looking back at him — a small, sad smile on his face — and he’s crying. Scar blinks in surprise, staring, and Grian laughs quietly, reaching up to wipe at his eyes. Scar doesn’t know what’s happening anymore.

“Grian?” Scar says uncertainly.

“Scar,” Grian says, and he sounds both intensely fond and profoundly guilty. “There is nothing wrong with you.”

Scar’s heart skips a beat in his chest, and he swallows hard. Grian keeps going.

“And I’m so sorry,” Grian says, voice cracking. He reaches out a hand and grabs Scar’s, squeezing it tightly. Scar’s breath hitches, his fingers twitching. The touch feels foreign. It almost hurts. He never wants to let go. Grian tugs on his hand, gently, and Scar looks back up at him. Grian looks heartbroken, but focused. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone,” he says.

“Then why did you?” Scar blurts, unable to help it. He feels a little bit pathetic. He can’t care anymore. “Why did everyone—“

“I don’t know,” Grian says, sad and frustrated and desperate. “I know why I did, I— We didn’t end well the first time. Scar, I couldn’t— I couldn’t kill you again. I looked at you and all I could see was…”

(Bloody knuckles. Sandy clothes. Only one gets to win.)

“I know,” Scar says, quietly, both an apology and forgiveness. And then, softer, “I was alone.” His shoulders curl forwards a little. “Everyone had someone and I was…”

Grian puts his other hand on Scar’s uninjured shoulder, and Scar meets his gaze. The avian’s eyes are full of fire, intense determination mingling with stubborn care.

“Never again,” Grian says, like he’s stating a fact of the universe. Like he’s challenging some malevolent god. Then he softens. “You’re not alone, Scar. Not anymore. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Scar opens his mouth to say something eloquent and thankful and graceful. Instead, he bursts into tears.

Grian pulls him into a hug by the hand he’s still holding, wings coming up to surround them, and for the first time in a long time Scar feels warm. The ache in his chest is fading. His hands aren’t cold. Grian is breathing shakily next to his ear, and he’s being so very careful as to avoid Scar’s injuries, and he’s hugging him.

Scar tucks his face into Grian’s shoulder and cries.

———

In the morning, Pearl busts down the door with soup and a vendetta against apparently unwelcomed emotions.

(“I heard someone was sad. I’m here to beat it up.” She’s grinning, and Scar can’t help but laugh.)

Impulse arrives a few minutes later and drops Jellie into his lap, smiling softly.

(“I think this one missed you somehow more than we did!” Jellie curls up by his injured leg, and if Scar tears up, no one mentions it.)

Mumbo bursts in last, the salvaged remains of the glow squid ink he’d collected gathered into a little bottle.

(“I tried to get you the fresh stuff, but there wasn’t really a way for them to— to ethically sacrifice themselves. Sorry, mate.” Mumbo is covered in glowing ink, looking genuinely apologetic, and Scar laughs until his ribs hurt.)

And he is not alone.

#this is three times longer than the first part KAKSJDHJD I think I was possessed /j #I hid in a basement all day to write this #I’m sick and on vacation. this is all I have /hj #anyway I hope you like it!! I’m not too sure about the comfort and the ending but I hope it’s fine #anyway enjoy!! #j writes #jay’s journal #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #grian #desert duo #last life smp #last life

[falcatamandarina]

Tav and Vardana character worksheet

Thanks @hybernating-bear for the tag. I am gonna try this as an English practice (sorry if I misspell something or if it can’t be understood). I am gonna talk about my two ‘Tavs’ since they are siblings and the background is the same.

Tagging @necroticyuzu , @vo09 and @elven-e-girl (I dont want to annoy you, no pressure, just an invitation)

Names: Tav (the elder one) and Vardana (the younger one) from Winterwood.

Tav is just Tav, because I like it (and I love ‘Gustavo’ name). Vardana is misspelled ‘bardana’ , a name of a plant (I believe it is ‘burdock’ in English). I like how this plant grows up in wild places. 

Gender: Tav is male; Vardana is female.

Sexuality: Tav is gay, Bardana is heterosexual.

Pronouns: He/him and She/her, 

O T H E R

Family: The important figure here is their grandmother, a Kelemvor cleric, a Doomguide and an exceptional duelist. Her name was Tabitha from Winterwood in Interior Faerûn and she was a human who, after a long life of adventures, became an hermit and recluded herself in Winterwood to help some little half blooded villages, since the wood has a lot of tension between orcs, dragons, lizards and woodelven. Tav and Vardana’s father was an adventure bard that fell in love with a drow and was killed by her when she was tired of a simple life. The little ones were raised by the grandma in Kelemvor ways and that’s why they are both kelemvorites clerics and don’t have any idea about drow culture. In fact their physical appearance is human-like.

Birthplace: Winterwood. They were raised there and completed tasks helping Tabitha. For instance, they were trying to eradicate Myrkul and Bhaal cults in the region. 

Job: Clerics, but Tav is the ‘blessed’ one. He is more skilled in the magic of his God. He is also a good bard and a duelist, like her grandma. Vardana developed herself more as a warrior (an Orc friend of the grandma trained her), due the drow skills and a lack of divine magic (for some reason it seems that Kelemvor only gifted her with basic cleric abilities). 

Phobia: Tav fears deep water. Vardana is afraid of her God not replying to her, that’s why she decided to protect and join Tav wherever he goes as a shadow. They are very dependent on one another.  

Guilty pleasure: Sometimes they have cruel pulsions, but can control them thanks to the strict training and their strong beliefs. 

Hobbies: Tav likes to spend time playing the lira and composing silly songs. He is a very joyful fellow. Vardana is silent most of the time, and she likes training, training and training.

M O R A L S

Alignment: Lawful Good (both), but Tav could be chaotical in some situations.

Sins: Tav enjoys tricking enemies and being a traitor to them. He feels really fine when they realize he has betrayed them and can’t do anything, it is his dark side. About Vardana, she doesn’t show it normally, but she is really possessive. 

Virtues: A very strong moral sense. They are really kind with people in need and value kindness and cordiality. 

T H I S  O R  T H A T

Introverted / Extroverted: Vardana is introverted in general (or quiet, at least). Tav is extremely extroverted. 

Organized / Disorganized: She is organized, he is disorganized. 

Close minded / Open minded: Both are open minded in general, except about their religion. 

Calm / Anxious / Restless: She is really calm, but he is restless. 

Disagreeable / Agreeable: Agreeable in general. 

Cautious / Reckless: Cautious, all the time. Tav seems a little reckless, but it is a kind of mask. 

Patient / Impatient: Patient in general, but Tav could be eager in specific situations. 

Outspoken / Reserved: She is reserved as Hell. Tav is a nosy tattletale.

Leader / Follower / Flexible: Tav is the Leader, but it seems like an irresponsible one (at least externally). Vardana is a Follower but just with Tav, almost as a shadow in the case of following her brother.

Empathetic / Unempathetic: They both are Empathetic, except in the case you are a cold blooded murderer. 

Optimist / Pessimist / Realist: Optimist. Their beliefs guide them on the topic. 

Traditional / Modern: In between. They are very traditional about their religion and respect goodness above all, but open minded about everything else (as soon as ‘everything else’ is kindness). They really respect and follow laws, but they don’t care about laws that lack morality, the laws should externalize moral ideas. 

Hardworking / Lazy: Hardworking, even when Tav could be mistaken as a lazy guy sometimes. 

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

OTP: Tav adores Rolan, because he likes haughty grumpy wizards. Vardana simps Zevlor a lot, because she is a possessive crazy one deep inside who likes wet sad (and old) cats (even if the others don’t notice she is a damn simp). The siblings hadn’t seen tieflings in Faerûn Interior. The moment they saw them at Emerald Grove, they agreed that they were the cutest creatures ever (Yes, they talk to each other about their love interests, they truly get along as siblings and friends). 

Brotp: Tav usually is doing silly things with Astarion and Karlach. He loves Jaheira's attitude as well. He also adores his ‘siblings-in-law’ and could do anything for Cal and Lia. Vardana gets along with Gale (they are simple, quiet and obsessive) and trains a lot with La’ezel. As strange as it sounds In Baldur’s Gate it is very common to see her and Naaber go around the city. She is Blurg’s penpal. 

Notp: Wulbren. On the other hand, Tav insisted on killing Minthara himself in a horrible way, the same for Nere. The Emperor's betrayal was a hard blow for him (how did the squid dare to use his same modus operandi?). Vardana silently swore to kill Orin and Raphael the moment she met them, she hates manipulative and deranged fellows.

END

#tav bg3 #my tav #i play bg3 with two tavs #vardana #tav

[moondust-bard]

⚠️DO NOT INTERACT⚠️

• anyone who believes ace/aro people don’t exist

• anyone who thinks ace/aro people don’t belong in the LGBT+ community

• Autism Speaks and ABA supporters

• transphobes & TERFs

• white supremacists

• “alpha male” dudes

~Some facts about me~

• My pronouns are she/they

• You may call me either by my pen name, Moira Bard, or by my chosen name, Luna. I will answer to both.

• I have… four indoor cats. Yes, I know that’s a lot of cats. Taming and caring for the feral gremlins in my neighborhood has become a hobby

• I’m autistic

• I’m also a visually impaired person with albinism

• chronic illnesses? Got those, too. I’m a party, truly.

• I enjoy mythology, folklore, fairytales, and world history

• I identify as queer

• Aside from writing, I enjoy editing fiction, studying herbalism, singing, stage-acting, studying astrology, graphic design, interior design, crafting with modeling clay, sketching, watercolors, practicing tarot, and baking

• Is my goal to traditionally publish? Not sure. Currently, the plan is to do those things which bring me the most joy— and that includes storytelling

• I’m In my mid-20s, but I’m secretly an ancient hermit hidden in a stone cottage, nestled in a dark wood untouched by sunlight and civilization. Through some arcane magic I shan’t divulge there is indeed an internet connection.

I am open to:

character voice-act ✅

Beta-read ✅

Proofread ✅

(Amateur) developmental edit ✅

(Amateur) line edit ✅

Sensitivity read ✅

Positivity pass ✅

Critique swap ✅

Create book and character playlists ✅ (search the tag “songs for playlists” for examples)

Design book banners, covers, and other graphics ✅ (search the tag “my art” for examples)

My asks and inbox are both open!

About My Writing & Related Topics

• I’m a plotter, though I’ve recently been straying from adhering to a strict outline and allowing the characters and my own whims to dictate the story

• I write mostly fantasy and sci fi for adults and young adults

• I would like to indie publish at some point— though I’m in no rush. For now, I write because I can’t not tell stories

• I’m also adapting some public domain works into scripts, mostly because my friends and I need fresh audition pieces

• I draft with scrivener and speech-to-text software

• my pen name is Moira Bard. I chose it because it evokes a sense of ethereal whimsy— two words I feel encompass my energy quite nicely

• I prefer comments and reblogs over likes— but don’t let me tell you how to writeblr. All interactions are appreciated!

Here are my 2024 writing goals

~My WiPs~

Lost Souls’ Night Series

Genres: mythic fantasy, YA

Current Stage: draft of book 1 shelved for later edits; plotting books 3-5

WiP Tags: wip: lsn

Read the wip intro!

Character Masterpost

Cultures Masterpost

Locations Masterpost

Religions Masterpost

Excerpt 1

Potent Poison, Treasured Tonic (Her Enchanted Garden Series, Book One)

Genres: new adult, urban portal fantasy

Current Stage: world-building, plotting, and character development in progress

WiP Tags: wip: pptt

Character Masterpost

Faerie Courts Masterpost

Faerie Religion Masterpost

Read the wip intro!

The Bloody Divine (Unholy Covenant Duology, Book One)

Genres: gothic fantasy, horror, adult, romance

Current stage: 2/3 of the first draft written; book 2 is 20% outlined

WiP Tags: wip: tbd

Read the wip intro!

Character Masterpost

Religions Masterpost

Locations Masterpost

Shadefyre (Lost in the Witherwoods Series, Book One)

Genres: new adult, fantasy

Current stage: character development and world building; first 4 books 50% outlined

WiP Tags: wip: ww

Read the wip intro!

Character Masterpost

Religions Masterpost

Locations Masterpost

Species Mastetpost

Learn about the covens

Zenith Code (City of Crystal and Chrome Duology, Book One)

Genres: sci fi, dystopia, YA

Current stage: worlsbuilding, character development; detailed outline 75% done. Two books set in this world are 50% outlined.

WiP Tags: wip: zc

Read the wip intro!

Character Masterpost

Hunting Ground (a Noble Dragons novel)

Genres: romantasy, adult

Current stage: draft 1 is done

WiP Tags: wip: hg

Read the wip intro!

Character Masterpost

Clans Masterpost

Creatures of Fate Series

Genre: romantasy, adult

Current Stage: drafting book 1

Wip Tags: Wip: CoF

Intro to Book One coming soon!

Meet Book One’s MC!

~ My socials ~

Find me on Spotify

Find m on Pinterest

Find me on tiktok

Find me on ig under the_moondust_bard

Here’s my “writing playlist resources” Spotify account

Feel free to tag me in ask games and interactive posts!

~Resources I’ve Made~

Songs for playlists masterpost

Blurb Writing Tips

Writer’s Guide to Conquering Executive Dysfunction

I co-run moon+seraph — a blog dedicated to encouraging and supporting the writing community here on tumblr

PLEASE KEEP IN MIND that my blindness makes me reliant on screen readers— you might also know this as text-to-speexh software. I use this tech to make tumblr more accessible to ne. One of the limits of the tech I use is that hashtags aren’t picked up and read to me. Please be aware that any messages left for me to read in the tags of a post… well, won’t be. I can’t see them and my tech won’t read them. I prefer feedback be left in comments and the text area on posts and revblogs for this reason.

#writers of tumblr #writing community #writeblr #looking for writer friends #writers on tumblr #my wips #writeblr introduction

[umbrify]

Making my own post so I don’t write a whole essay in the tags of mcytblr confessions. Re: this post about how shipping culture in the Hermitcraft fandom is so wildly different to how it is in the Dream SMP fandom. Under a read more for if you don’t care lmao

Honestly I do think it’s quite interesting, just how different the two fandoms are. For Hermitcraft, I think it’s just that like, they’ve already fought that war. I’ve seen the great hermitshipping discourse of 2019. They’ve had enough, gone over this. They’ve fought this war already. Nowadays for HC, it’s just “make sure you tag your posts correctly and you’re all good. If you don’t like it please just don’t interact.” Plus, the general consensus for the hermits is that like, they’re all adults, and they can just not look. And they’re all fine with that arrangement as well, as far as I can tell. The hermits leave us to it, and we be respectful and not post it where they’re gonna see it. Mutual respect and a good tagging system, and we’re all good. No more discourse.

For DSMP, it’s wildly different. The culture that the DSMP fandom established very quickly was that boundaries were the highest level of importance, and they wanted to make sure they weren’t disrespecting their CC’s. With that, it became commonplace to actively seek out a CC’s boundaries regarding all sorts of things. Because of that, there’s a lot of CC’s who have actively said no to stuff like shipping, and the fandom does their best to respect that, but sometimes it gets real messy.

As someone who’s been in the DSMP fandom for like, a year and a half at this point, I’ve seen plenty of shipping discourse about it. Of course there’s the beeduo discourse, with their characters being canonically married but the CC’s playing them saying no to shipping, and then there’s stuff like the whole hellfire that was the emerald duo QPR discourse. And honestly, there’s been no conclusion, really. Eventually it just kinda passes and we don’t talk about it anymore. I think that, if the DSMP fandom sticks around long enough, we’ll probably eventually have our shipping wars and eventually settle on something? But this fandoms ability to come to any consensus doesn’t leave me hopeful for that. (We’ve got what, like, three different names for the Wilbur and Ranboo duo at this point? That still pisses me off to this day.)

Honestly, I wonder if a lot of it doesn’t come down to the simple fact that the HC fandom has been around for a long time at this point. They’ve just had their ten year anniversary, and I’m sure they’ve seen it all at this point. Like I only recently joined the HC fandom, but it is SO refreshing being here. There’s like, no discourse about anything really, everyone is chill. They’ve probably already had every discourse you could possibly have, and they’ve settled it. Like I think the most I’ve seen in my time here was the Cleo swearing thing? And honestly, as a DSMP fan, I was just laughing about the concept of THAT being what’s considered a big deal.

Over in the DSMP fandom, I swear we can’t go one week without some new thing going wrong. You can be offline for a few hours and come back and it seems like your whole fandom is on fire. I’ve been told that the DSMP fandom has the kind of energy where it seems like it’s a lot of peoples first “big” fandom? And that makes sense honestly, with all the stuff I’ve seen. I still remember when people on Twitter were being canceled by other fans for the crime of uh… livetweeting? And everyone was like “you have to censor the names so they don’t trend!!” And then we fucking trended a censored version of “Karl” and it’s just. Guys. What are you trying to prove? Like you realize that your trending page is catered to what you personally interact with right? You realize it’s Twitter..? It’s not that deep?

I dunno. I could go on and on and on, and this post is already way longer than I thought it would be tbh. I’m just rambling at this point. There’s plenty of other random stuff I could say about the differences in these fandoms, I’m sure. I guess if any of you actually read this and want me to keep rambling abt it, let me know?

Thanks for coming to my fuckin Ted talk, I guess.

#i do think it’s worth noting that HC is not as huge of a fandom as DSMP though. so it’s easier for them to like. agree on things #which I’m sure helps #but y’know. #glad I put this on a read more it’s much longer than I thought #anyway im not maintagging any of this. feel free to reblog if you happen to want to though #umbrify talks #i spent nearly an hour making this. which. tells you how many opinions I have I guess.

[fearforthestorm]

hi! i was wondering where the hermits have said theyre okay with their characters being shipped? i just know it can be a lot for someone since the character has the same name and appearance of the persona they use for themselves, so i wanted to check sources

okay. um. yeah. a few thoughts here:

• why are you asking me this??? I'm not even really a shipper I just think it's shitty to be an asshole to people who are shippers, WHICH. by the way. is the stance EVERYONE should have. literally just don't be an asshole!!!!

• I'm not going to pull sources out of my ass and I'm not going to go find them for you. I don't owe you anything, and especially since you phrased this kind of accusationally? honestly you're lucky I'm taking the time to answer at all, because I DO have a real life, yknow, where you touch grass and all that.

• it is PRETTY FUCKING WELL KNOWN that the hermits don't much give a shit what you do in fanworks as long as you tag properly. IN FACT, ZombieCleo themself was harassed off tumblr by the anti-hermitshipping crowd because they literally said "do whatever you want as long as you tag it". ALSO, the only hermit who uses their real name is Joe??? and almost all fan designs atleast on here are pretty different from the actual skins, much less the IRL PERSON. I honestly don't know how to explain to you that they're pretty fucking clearly characters. And I could absolutely go on about the double standard when it comes to shipping in mcyt and specifically in the helsblr (Hermitcraft/empires/3L LL, it was a joke name but I like it so I'm using it) circle, but that's a lot of effort I don't want to give to you tbh and also not what you asked.

I don't know if you're new here or something, because frankly this kind of reads like the stuff I saw in my brief stint on twitter. but not only have multiple hermits expressed that they don't care, you also realize that if they did care they would say something? if what fandom did was bothering them, they would have ZERO qualms about speaking up about it. like, Tango did that when he asked people not to draw/otherwise depict him with horns, and the fandom listened and have stood by that since!

And, just to wrap things up, because we're still fucking BAFFLED that I got this ask???

• This is how dangerous parasocial relationships can form. tumblr user fearforthestorm doesn’t love you. xe can’t love you. tumblr user fearforthestorm doesn’t KNOW you. they can appreciate you but ix can’t fucking love you.

thanks for playing, have a good night everyone.

#.lyr #ask #hermitcraft #hermitshipping #anon #if you do honestly want to have a conversation about this drop another ask and im willing to chat #because im realizing i really didnt give you the benefit of the doubt here? so if this really is a genuine well intentioned question; #follow up and i can give you a more serious answer. #i mean. im really NOT the person to ask because my policy is and always will be mind your own business and dont harass ppl #you would absolutely be better off asking others. maybe yknow people who are actually actively shippers. #but if you do want to follow up feel free. i am willing to have serious discussion abt this as long as its respectful.

[themightywolftiger]

Big ol’ Beasts 2

Slowly going to be posting these. Talking about what happened to the players, interactions with hermits/empires, and what it takes to turn them back (if they can be turned back at all).

I don’t have an actual tag for this AU yet, but I’ll think of one eventually.

This post focuses on Joel and Skizzleman.

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

1. Skizz (and his doodles):

Skizzleman had been changed into a giant angel-like griffin with two sets of wings and a halo. Like Jimmy, he’s surprisingly passive and easy to turn back. But, he still does have some redness to him (red eyes, animalistic, will lash out against non-allies, non-friendlies).

 But, if you show him kindness (and food) give him fish), he’ll turn back into a normal self (with permanent wings/halo) maybe also claw hands).

Doodles: A monster!Skizz face, full body, with a fish, sleeping, and a human(?) Skizz.

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

2. Joel (and his doodles):

Joel became a mix between a bird and a wolf. But now that he’s in his home server, he’s also gained godlike powers (he’s still the size of a normal wolf) just fluffier/feathery).

 Joel is more hostile than Jimmy and Skizz. He’s protective of those that he cares about (his team of LimLife and his wife). However, in a contrast, he sees anyone else as an enemy and attacks in a blind rage.

 Fwhip happens to be the one of the receivers of this aggression. He does manage to hold the big, lightning throwing beast away until help arrives.

With some time, Lizzie manages to get through to Joel and turn him back to normal. It’s a tiring, achy process for Joel. So, he’s got to recover.

Doodles: Wolf!Joel face, full body, Lightning powers, the rage fading, a normal Joel.

Fun Facts below cut: Nothing too spoilery, just fun:

Joel is the first to turn back to normal. And, he is the one to turn Jimmy back to normal (they can’t get Grian back to normal)

 Skizz is the first in the Hermit world to turn back to normal. He’s happy to be human again (human-ish); however, he’s disturbed by what’s he’s learned from X and the others.

Everyone is still  in their Limited Life outfits upon returning to the servers.

The empires people have Gem use her powers to send them to Hermitcraft (only a small group can go).

#trafficblr #limited life smp #limited life au #hermitcraft au #empires smp au #skizzleman #smallishbeans #Joel is probably the simplest of the designs #Just a wolfo that wants some pets #This AU is such a mix between fluff and angst

[xieyaohuan]

All God's children took their toll, Chapter 2: Aquarium

Summary

Hughie's gone missing. Starlight knows who's got him. She will get her boyfriend back. No matter what it takes. Aka Starlight and The Boys kidnap Homelander in a desperate attempt to find Hughie

Pairings

Homelander/Everyone, basically (see AO3 for more detailed tagging)

Notes

The world needs more Homelander whump

Chapter 1 written for Whumptober prompt Day 1:

No. 1 A LITTLE OUT OF THE ORDINARY Adverse Effects | Unconventional Restraints | “This wasn’t supposed to happen”

Warnings for Chapter 2: cages? kidnapping? imprisonment? cruel and callous treatment of a terrified, traumatized supe?

Read on AO3

“You sure he can’t just… I don’t know… snap out of it, man?”

MM is looking at Homelander who is passed out in the Aquarium, as Butcher likes to call it. 

It’s the center piece of what will be their new home for however long this takes: an 8 by 10 foot cell made of reinforced two way glass, mirror-walls on the inside but see-through from the outside, sound-proof, with a double door interlock system so that at least one door is always securely locked. The decor inside the cell is nothing to call home about, just a cold steel chair and table they’ve modified for their purposes in the middle of the cell and a bucket in the corner.

Vought’s prized asset is slumped against the mirror side of the wall, ankles in steel cuffs and arms twisted behind his back. His body is vibrating along with the glass because they’ve turned on the Aquarium’s supe holding function as a precaution. The humming and magnetic pulsating is unpleasant, to put it mildly, but they’ll just have to put up with the unfortunate sound for the next few days or weeks. Best get used to it now. 

“Doubt he can.” Butcher has to raise his voice to speak over the noise. “Mindstorm’s bloody little gift is pretty permanent based on all I’ve read.”   If he doesn’t sound very convincing, it’s because he’s not very convinced. This is Homelander they’re talking about; the cunt’s full of unpleasant surprises; anything is possible. Maybe he’s already wrestling with Mindstorm for control in his head and is about to break through the supe-proof cell to kill them all. Bucher wouldn’t be too surprised. 

At least they’ve finally come up with a plan how to wake the cunt up semi safely. Yesterday’s many unpleasant discoveries included the fact that Mindstorm’s powers don’t work through the mirror glass, so he can’t easily release Homelander from his nightmares - they’re going to have to take this cunt out of his cell to do that. 

All of this trouble just to save that useless kid Hughie, Butcher thinks. Fucking great, he’s really growing soft.

“Colonel says this is as safe as it gets,” he adds when he sees MM’s skeptical face. He can’t have the man freak out, he needs smooth, calm and collected MM for what they’re about to attempt here. But he also can’t get himself to lie and pretend this is some fucking walk in the park. 

The strategy seems to work because MM sighs but says nothing further.

Homelander is looking peaceful as a baby in his sleep, his mouth twisted into a half-smile. It’s almost cruel, Butcher thinks; this cunt has been trapped in his darkest nightmares for almost a full day now, but you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at him. Part of him wants to leave things as they are, quietly dump this supe in a coffin and bury him in this state. Eventually, he tells himself, Homelander would probably simply die of dehydration or lack of oxygen in his unpeaceful sleep like a regular human being, even if it might take a little longer. It would be cruel, sure, but no more and no less than this cunt deserves.

Out of habit, Butcher pulls out his mobile and stares at it blankly for almost a minute before he realizes it still has zero bars. There’s no reception down here, and Butcher suspects it’s not just because they’re underground. This place is hermitically sealed; nothing goes in or out.

If Butcher had a choice, he would have picked a different place, not this basement in Queens underneath the bustling roads of Chinatown. Mallory claims it’s a CIA safe house, but Butcher knows a blacksite when he sees one. The place is small, just the observation room with the Aquarium in the center, the control room, a cubbyhole with four bunk beds, and a tiny kitchen and a bathroom that barely deserve the name. They’re much too close to Homelander’s last known location, too. None of this is ideal.

Still, all things considered, they’ve done a pretty decent job with their makeshift supe prison at such short notice.

The Colonel pulled some strings, and say of her what you will, she really came through this time. Butcher suspects her former employer is taking more than a fleeting interest in what they’re doing here, and he’s not loving the idea, but beggars can’t be choosers.

The Aquarium is apparently a replica of something that’s been sitting on the 42nd floor of Vought Tower all those years, powerful enough to kill any non-supe that steps inside. It was built with Homelander in mind according to the Colonel, though accounts on whether it was ever tested on the cunt in the flesh are inconsistent at best. The Agency has probably had its own copy ready for ages, and now, they finally have a chance to test it out, with Butcher and the Boys conveniently shouldering all the risk should anything go wrong. 

Yeah, who’s he kidding. Their plan is fucking bonkers. 

Butcher has no clue how this supe-depowering cell even works. Something like an MRI, Frenchie claims: magnetic radio waves or some such thing that separate the V in the blood from the human cells that the blue poison needs to attach itself to to have any effect. All Butcher cares about is that it works. He’s tested it himself, over and over again. And sure enough, no matter how much Temp V he shoots up, the waves this room is blasting through him will deactivate it reliably. Works on the real deal, too; Starlight, Kimiko, even Maeve - none of them can do shite with their powers in that cell.

Butcher leaves MM to his brooding thoughts and heads towards the small kitchen, passing Starlight who’s in the control room shouting at Mindstorm. 

That supe is always agitated these days. If he’s not yelling about paying for therapy, he’s yapping on about how he needs money to leave the country, and so on, but he’s broke and also unwilling to set up a Gofundme page like Butcher helpfully suggested. No. The mindfucking cunt wants cash. Butcher would gladly give it to him and be done with all the drama if his demands weren’t so grossly unreasonable and most definitely outside of their budget.

Starlight is in no state to be having this conversation, and Mindstorm should be nowhere near the control room, but Butcher can’t be fucked to intervene; he’s got his limits, too.

Mindstorm is the most unnerving supe he has ever met, save perhaps for Homelander. Even with his hands tied and that thick blindfold over his eyes, he still doesn’t like having that mindfucker around. He should have locked him in the Aquarium with Homelander. What is he even doing keeping the two most dangerous supes with them in the same fucking basement?

But they do need Mindstorm to wake up Homelander, that’s what he’s doing. 

Butcher pours some water from the metallic hot water dispenser over the tea bag in his cup and adds a squeeze of lemon. 

Part of him would probably feel better if Mallory were with them, or even the person who is most certainly overseeing their little project at the Agency. Not that he wants them involved or that they’d be of any help if something were to go wrong, but Butcher could really use a vote of confidence in this little operation, and their conspicuous absence is just the opposite. 

Butcher sits down on the only chair in the kitchen and takes a sip of tea. He’s freshly cranked up on Temp V; he’s supposed to feel good, energized, ready. But his current level of dizziness and nausea make it seem more like a day after Temp V, and he swears he can already feel the black goo building up behind his eardrums. 

He sets his cup down and pushes himself up. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable any longer. “Alright,” he calls, “Moment of truth. Time to wake up sleeping beauty.”

*  *  *

To an outside observer, the scene would probably look bizarre bordering on comical in a very involuntary way.

Starlight and Kimiko have dragged a dishevelled Homelander out of his cell, each of them grabbing one of his arms to prop him up right in front of the Aquarium’s open doors, but the cunt’s knees keep buckling, and Starlight and Kimiko are standing so close to the cell that the radio-magnetic pulses or whatever the fuck they are seem to be affecting them. At least they’re struggling with keeping Homelander up straight.

Butcher is standing a few feet away, every muscle in his body tense, ready to use his laser vision to propel the cunt back into the cell the moment he starts stirring. He’s been practicing his precision laser blasts and is reasonably pleased with the result. 

It took Frenchie half a day to figure out how to override the bloody interlock system to keep both doors open at the same time. He’s now sitting in the semi-security of the control room together with MM to push the button to lock both doors as soon as Homelander has been shoved back into his little prison by Butcher. 

It’s a bloody risk they’re taking, and the fact that with all the high-tech resources they seem to have in this place it still comes down to something like this is ridiculous, but they’ve gone over the plan a million times. They’re as ready as they’re ever going to be. 

Well, all of them except one.

“Oi! Mindstorm!” Butcher shouts without taking his eyes off Homelander. “Wake the bloody cunt up already, we haven’t all day!”

Mindstorm is pacing again, jerking his head every few seconds as if that could somehow eject an intrusive thought or voice from his brain. They’ve taken his blindfold off because the supe insisted he has to be able to see the person he’s trapped to be able to release them, but he’s even more on edge now with all the new stimuli. Butcher suspects that the buzzing and humming from the Aquarium is not making things any better. 

“Can’t we put him back in the cage?” Mindstorm asks without looking at Butcher. “I’d really feel safer if he were back in that cage.”

This can’t be happening, Butcher thinks. “You fuckin’ dense or what, you already tried waking him up through the glass, didn’t work, remember? That’s what we all been racking our brains about for the past 24 hours tryin’ to figure out a bloody alternative, case ya didn’t notice.” 

“I could go in with him,” Mindstorm offers, his eyes firmly locked on the floor. “Stay close to the door, run when he wakes.”

Butcher takes a deep breath. “Supe’s have no powers in that room, that’s the whole fucking point of it. Last I checked you was still a supe. Only way to wake this cunt up is out here. So either you do it now, or I’ll make sure Soldier Boy pays you a fuckin’ visit real soon.”

Mindstorm visibly recoils at the mentioning of the name, but the threat works as reliably as it has for the past few days and whatever little resistance was building up inside of him crumbles. He looks up at Homelander. 

At first, nothing happens, and Butcher is about to throw his arms up in frustration and storm out of the room, but suddenly, Homelander’s legs start twitching and then his face before, finally, his eyes snap wide open. 

He looks both terrified and terrifying, eyes the size of saucers as he’s trying to make sense of his surroundings.

For a moment, Butcher is paralyzed. Then the cunt’s eyes light up, and he knows it’s now or never. He focuses his vision on Homelander’s chest and sends him flying back into the cell with a single, powerful blast. It’s strong enough that the supe crashes right into the mirror wall, which shakes from the impact but doesn’t shatter. 

Butcher’s knees are trembling as the doors close. That was a bloody close shave.

He sits down on the floor and lights a cigarette. That’s all he wants to do now: sit, smoke, and watch Homelander get accustomed with his new situation.

The cunt isn’t handling it very well. He’s throwing his body against the mirror glass, yelling and crying, but no sound goes in or out of the Aquarium except through the intercom, which is turned off, so Butcher can only take a guess what he’s saying based on a lip reading class he took decades ago.

Starlight sits down next to him. “We need to make a plan,” she says. “We have to go in, Butcher. Now.” 

Butcher shakes his head, only mildly offended at the insinuation that he doesn't have a plan. “Trust me, just wait a bit, I done this many times.” That’s half true at best. He’s overseen an interrogation or two back in the day and sat in on many others, but they’re ugly business even for someone like him who’s seen plenty of ugly in his life, so he’s not gone actively seeking out any more of them. This one here might be Homelander, who deserves all the pain and suffering in the world, but part of Butcher is dreading his active role in distributing karma.

“Oui, it’s best if you let them, eu, stew for a bit, hein,” Frenchie chimes in from the control room through the intercom system. He sounds positively giddy now that their plan seems to be working.

Homelander stops abruptly, and Butcher sighs. “Frenchie, you pressed the wrong fucking button,” he shouts. “The cunt in there can hear you for fuck’s sake.”

He gets up and walks towards the control room to figure out how this bloody thing works. 

Starlight is following him, trying to argue with him, blathering on about how they don’t have time, but Butcher is having none of that. They’ve come this far, they’re going to do this properly now. 

“Not today,” he says. “We’ll go in first thing tomorrow. Get some sleep, love.”

He’ll have to have someone keep an eye on her to make she doesn’t do anything stupid.

*  *  *

“So how long can a supe stay in that room?” MM asks. 

They’re sharing the first shift tonight, and MM’s opted for tea, just like Butcher. They’re sitting in the observation room, sipping a cuppa, watching Homelander, who has collapsed on the floor in frustration and is writhing and twisting in another futile attempt to break out of or at least loosen his bondage.

“How long can he stay in there… without, you know…” MM’s voice trails off, confirming what Butcher already feared: the man’s fucking medic instincts are kicking in, and he's starting to think about the professional ethics of this all. 

They’ll be terribly misplaced in this setting, but that’s something Butcher will just have to deal with later when MM realizes what exactly he’s signed on for.

“Didn’t test that,” he says. “Lack of supes of Homelander’s stature to experiment with and such. Couple of days at least, longer, probably, trust me, mate, that cunt’s fucking hard to kill.” 

As annoyed as he is by MM’s sudden case of vagina, the question is an interesting one. It’s another thing he doesn’t know. The Agency has no notes on the subject, and if Vought does, they’re hiding them well. Butcher’s never been in there himself for more than five minutes, but if the thing is powerful enough to block the powers of someone like Homelander instantly, it can’t be terribly healthy in the long term, even for someone like him.

But that’s the least of his concerns right now. They’ll have plenty of time to get the information they need from this cunt. And if the room helps kill him afterwards, it’s going to solve a big headache for Butcher. He lights another cigarette and inhales deeply. He's done his job for today, and Future Billy will just have to figure out the rest.

All he knows is that when his shift is done, he’ll get the first good night of sleep in over a week.

#homelander whump #whumptober 2022 #homelander #billy butcher #the boys #posting my whumptober fic in november yay #not tagging according to whumptober rules because i'm late and lazy sorry #the world needs more homelander whump #my fic #mine

[sweetest-hive-of-hearts]

we didn’t get to send an ask earlier before it got closed so hope u don’t mind us tagging u guys just so u guys can see!! @mcytblrsexymen (if u need us to remove the mention or wutever so u can vibe w/out it just state so n’ we’ll remove it!!)

We honestly wanted to thank u guys for making ur silly blorbo poll!! though a LOT of our silly guys r outta the running it’s nice to get on tumblr after a long work day to see what’s happening,

(/j)grieve a bit at the fact we lost the moment to have drawn sm c! vers of sbi + benchtrio in skirts/dresses and other “sexy villain/hero” clothes (and boob windows, for the phitties and scitties primaily) and the DISASTER that would’ve been trying to draw as many hermits similarly in a group vs group set of the various c! blorbos

but most of all just… remember all the fun that we have even if our involvement in the community is rather minimal even now since we’re only really comfortable freely sharing our stuff with our good online friends- from drawings of Grian in a dress, a four armed season-philza with four phitties(due to logical-ing that the arms also need the pecs & those musles,), and the oh,, HORRIFYINGLY oh so many sbi and benchtrio stuff we’ve mused (let alone have hivemates of), it’s nice to realize and acknowledge how much the content and community has changed us and helped us grow- let alone been a MASSIVE comfort even if we stopped consuming the ACTUAL mcyt content our mcyts provide for us.

(also minor propaganda: we think it’d be great if technoblade wins so we all, as a community, can joke that Techno still is beating the shit out of others in pvp even beyond the grave, even if a tumblr poll he’d still make fun of his friends and engaging with them over him winning it, with “Massive L” somewhere in those conversations with his friends and family.)

there’s more ramblings in the tags but I figured since that’s along the lines of grief related and not everyone would want to see that, but we genuinely wanted to thank you guys who made the silly mcyt sexyman polls partially because what’s in the tags if you are in a Good Mental Place to read stuff related to that.

(though it’s all positive stuff we’ve placed in the tags, we can’t tell how bad any of those asks were and such. so the best we can do is give that heads up before you read them in case you’re not in the right mental place to deal with hearing it!!) Make sure to drink some water, do something calming/relaxing, and try to have even a snack if you guys can before you resume whatever nonsense you’re doing on or off the blog!

Thank you again!!

#hive rambles #tagging it that since dispite this being typed by me(Dec) this is something I think all around 71 of us wanted to voice #mcyt sexyman #accidentally cried while typing this but uh #should be fine since it’s mostly positive about more people moving on with Techno and such #tho it’s not said I think it’s much nicer to have the passed mcyt of the last few years remembered as silly little guy who was in a sexyman #contest over how they died or their last video/the video exposing the news about it #though it’s not much from us we wanted to thank you even if it meant a silly tumblr post that likely not many would read #so again #thank you #long post #probably

[anautumncarol]

thank you @chrxsify for tagging me!!! sorry for taking so long to do it, hope i did this correctly

1. Birthday?

30/11

2. Favorite color?

okay so i technically have 5 but they’re all a mix of each other at this point so: white, blue, purple, red and black

3. How tall are you?

168cm ish.

4. How many pair of shoes to you own?

technically i own a bunch since i never throw away the old ones but you’ll probably find me wearing my doc martens and now occasionally kickers (whenever i’m required to wear flat shoes i do have vans because they’re the comfiest shoes and try and find nice shoes in a size 42 or above in the women’s section (why are men’s shoes so boring????), vans has got you covered by sizing ridiculously big).

5. Favorite song?

I don’t really have one although i’ll have to say passion for publication by anarbor, 0325 by skz, sicilienne by fauré (not rlly a song i know), intywidfal by mcr, gold medal ribbon by ptv and a night like this by the cure constitute a solid foundation of songs?

6. Favorite movie?

i dont really watch movies but maybe a monster in paris?

7. Who would be your ideal partner?

im not sure since i’ve honestly got neither the time nor patience to even think of being in a relationship so i guess i’ll say kim seungmin because being chronically a seungmin simp is half of my personnality

8. Do you want children?

not my own, that’s for sure. maybe one day i’ll adopt but kids are tiring man

9. Have you gotten in trouble with the law?

Not officially

10. What color socks are you wearing?

none, i’m wearing slippers

11. Favorite type of music?

anything except maybe dubstep, it gives me major headaches, and reggae, i just can’t seem to enjoy it. rock is probably my favourite since it’s such a broad genre and just i do prefer more types of rock than types of pop or kpop or rap etc

12. How many pillows do you sleep with?

4 pillows and 4 other throw pillows under my feet to keep my legs elevated because bad blood circulation bb (dont ask me how i fit so much shit on a single bed, idk either)

13. What position do you sleep in?

on my side or sometimes twisted so my torso is on it’s back

14. What don’t you like when you’re sleeping?

my own thoughts ngl, its so hard to fall asleep with those running through my brain

15. Have you tried archery?

i have a very peculiar relationship with archery because its a sport i’ve always wanted to do and that from the few times i’ve done it i’m actually decent at and am just realy disappointed with the fact i never got to exploit my full potential because i really do love it (same with other aiming things like i always get prices at fairs with the rifle stalls despite it being the only time i actually use them). 

16. Favorite fruit?

pineapples are the only fruits i’ll ever eat willingly

17. Are you a good liar?

decent enough to get away with a few things

18. What’s your personality type?

intp

19. Innie or outie?

innie, just for the sole excuse that i’m a hermit and that the word reminds me of jeongin

20. Left or right handed?

right handed

21. Favorite food?

i’m assuming it means food from home country and idk, maybe cordon bleu?

22. Favorite foreign food?

as much as i love mexican and ethiopian food and currywurst, nothing beats indian food (although nepali food absolutely kills as well)

23. Are you clean or messy?

messily organised. really depends with what, like my room is a mess 99% of the time but my bookshelf, mangateque, cd and album collection are always neatly organised

24. Most used phrase?

“your mum/ta mère” “fun fact” “tips and tricks” “border” “ ’tain” and a few others

25. How long does it take you to get ready?

i basically will do my “routine” as fast or slow as required depending on how much time i have. shortest i tend to do it is like 5-10 minutes and it really doesn’t need more that 45 minutes at most

26. Do you talk to yourself?

all the time. i also talk to myself in third person whilst talking to others which becomes kind of a problem when one of your best friends has the same name as you

27. Do you sing to yourself?

only when im home alone, it shuts the dogs up and is pretty fun

28. Are you a good singer?

haha, next

29. Biggest fear?

the unknown i guess?

30. Are you a gossip?

depends who i’m with

31. Long or short hair?

i don’t really care, depends what suits the person’s face in my opinion

32. Favorite school subject?

that’s a really hard question but maybe philosophy, maths, literature (although i dont have it anymore smh), physics-chemistry, drama and like history back when i didn’t have the teacher i currently do

33. Extrovert or introvert?

ambivert, really

34. What make you nervous?

phone buzzing, i absolutely fucking despise it. and then things like school and life in general although that’s more axiousness

35. Who was your first crush?

i don’t think i’ve ever really had a crush but maybe nico di angelo??

36. How many piercings do you have?

except my lobes i have a helix and a second lobe and i’ll be getting a second helix this summer

37. How many tattoos do you have?

nichts, i don’t think my commitment issues will allow me although i love tattoos

38. How fast can you run?

i am the exception to physics for i can travel 174 au per day

39. What color is your hair?

dirty blond/dirty brown

40. What colour are your eyes?

like an aggregation of colours but i guess the main ones are blue and grey and like yellow

41. What makes you angry?

anything as long as i’m tired enough

42. Do you like your name?

i have nothing against it

44. What are your strengths?

idk, maybe my ability to adapt to different situations?

45. What are your weaknesses?

maybe the fact i get riled up easily by the most random shit?

46. What’s the color of your bedspread?

i think it’s like white with dots rn

47. What’s the color of your room?

walls are white and purple but other than that it’s kinda anything goes with my room’s colours, ngl.

[shittyness]

I posted 599 times in 2022

That's 237 more posts than 2021!

114 posts created (19%)

485 posts reblogged (81%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@cyanroads

@the3rddenialist

@neonwizardheehee

@fearforthestorm

@shittyness

I tagged 310 of my posts in 2022

Only 48% of my posts had no tags

#ask - 17 posts

#<- prev tags - 13 posts

#empires smp - 12 posts

#grian - 12 posts

#theories - 11 posts

#evo smp - 10 posts

#<- prev - 9 posts

#evo - 9 posts

#the watchers - 8 posts

#anonymous - 8 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i have 2-3 copies of every book (well just one of eacg accompany book like demigod diaries) but i have 3full copies of the main books ofhoo

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Oli released a new video

spoilers ahead

that bit with Pearl is the part I was most interested by

so as you may or may not know sausage made Pearl canonically god of afterlife and when he died the final time he went to live with her in her Hermitcraft season 8 base while in her empire skin (that’s not really relevant rn but I feel like I can do something with it later) 

and then when Oli went up there he was shocked at the amount of her and sausage’s player heads were just around and was put off by her explanation of they had a legendary battle and sausage is now sleeping

and when Pearl invited him to stay in heaven with them he sounded scared like she was going to hurt him and he ran off

if you’ve watched Pearls empires pov (or sausage’s tbh) you know that she was a fighter she loved to battle and spar and was constantly changing that high of battle, she didn’t even really care if she lost half the time she just wanted to fight

this is proven in her first fight with Xornoth because after he finally managed to kill her using admin abilities and creative she wasn’t upset she lost at all she was more upset at the fact he wouldn’t actually fight her but hardly that

she knows sausage and by now (especially after the epic battle) they most likely know each other’s fighting styles extremely well so although she probably still loves fighting sausage when a new challenger approached she was excited to say the least

but he left to go be alive, so she sent him to where she last was empire’s smp 

I have a couple ideas on why she might have done this (if it was her that is)

1) he wanted his friends and a lot of the people from afterlife are on empires so it would be familiar faces even if they don’t know him

2) she wanted to use him to keep an eye on her friends as she wasn’t there this time

3) maybe she sent him as her champion/angel to try to keep another demon off the server

4) I don’t think it would be this one but maybe it was to try to get him to be ready to join her in heaven cuz he ran away from her in fear

or maybe it’s something else entirely I don’t know yet

and I really hope I get more then a day before this is proven wrong this time

I am really excited to see where this is going and to see what oli knows

and I’ll probably go into different parts of the episode later but this is a Pearl post I like talking about pearl ok?

70 notes - Posted August 10, 2022

#4

NEW THOUGHT NEW THOUGHT 

ok ok so, you know how when you get stressed it’s harder to keep calm and and shit?

What if Grian gets more watcher-like when he gets stressed

if we run with the “the watchers are evil and he ran away” thought process, then it would make sense that he would have anxiety whenever he thought of them

Then he would start having more watcher features show up; his eyes/wings turn purple, he gets more eyes, etc

and with those showing up, he’d get more anxious and get more features, turning into a spiral of he can’t calm down until he isn’t in his watcher form, and he can’t get out of watcher form until he calms down

even if we go with the “the watchers aren’t evil, just chaotic fucks/ overbearing parents and Grian left just cuz he wanted to” it still works

It works because Grian would be afraid of how the other hermits would react

he has no idea if they know what a watcher it, if they’ve met one before, or their opinions on them

so he’d be afraid of scared or disgusting his new friends just for what he is

thus the spiral again

Maybe eventually the other hermits start to find out, by either he tells them or they walk in on him in the midst of a spiral

Pearl would know by the time she showed up -cuz she is a watcher- 

none of them would really mind, I think at most Scar would be mock offended Grian didn’t tell him sooner, and then go into a million questions 

but even after they all know, he still get anxious when he starts to turn, so he has really good control of his emotions

Credit to this amazing cosplay for the inspiration 

95 notes - Posted November 11, 2022

#3

GUYS I THOUGHT OF SOMETHING WITH JIMMY

OK OK SO

throughout empires season 1 there was a popular thought that Joel, the mad king of Mezalia, was a terracotta statue 

and at the end I saw a post, I think it was fanart, about Joel trying to make his friends out of terracotta, but over time as he tries to perfect them he forgets how they’re supposed to look

Jimmy was one of Joel’s friends

Jimmy was the only one that looked really close to the original 

Jimmy came to life, but wasn’t the same as the Cod Father

After a while, Joel couldn’t take it anymore, he couldn’t stand to be near the terracotta Jimmy 

So he left, and right as he died, Pearl brought him to god-hood

and after thousands of years, he began to forget about the terracotta Jimmy, he began to resent the man he once was

Jimmy knows what happened with Joel, his only friend, and resents him for leaving hime behind

Eventually Jimmy set out to find the now god Joel, and give him a piece of his mind

On his travels he runs into Scott and his new magic eye, Scott can tell that Jimmy isn’t human, and is made of some type of magic

The two start talking and Jimmy tells Scott about Joel and his mission to find him

Scott doesn’t forget this, and refuses to accept Joel as a god

By the time Jimmy finally finds Joel, he has almost completely forgotten him

but he knows what Jimmy is, and he hates the reminder of his past life

and Jimmy obviously hates him for leaving him behind, and forgetting him

But he choses to be the bigger person and he goes off and becomes the sheriff of the mesa

Joel, upon finding this out, takes this opportunity to continuously remind Jimmy he isn’t human and never will be human

Jimmy doesn’t like it but figures Joel will stop eventually

that is until he calls Jimmy a toy in front of his friends, and then it starts to make them believe it too

and when he starts to protest it Joel just doubles down

turning it from a joke to a curse

he can’t admit admit it, he can’t give Joel the satisfaction

nor can he truly accept that he never was and never will be human

So now anytime he starts turning into a toy, he stops it then and there; re-sculpting a new terracotta arm, removing the pull string and hiding it, etc

he isn’t human, but he isn’t a toy either, not yet at least

115 notes - Posted November 6, 2022

#2

i'm trying to figure out what relationship grian has with the watchers (that i like better)

we have the basic: the watchers kidnapped him! and traumatized him! and while i love love that one, it's amazing for like angst and shit. but if you actually watch the Evo end poem, you have to admit that grian did choose to join the watchers, so the most you can say is that he didn't feel like he had a choice

so i'm gonna take that and change it a bit

when the watchers offered grian a spot in their ranks, they did give him a choice, but didn't tell him the full truth. they told him all of the powers he would gain, but none of the draw backs. they promised him the world, but didn't tell him the chains that would hold him to it. basically gave him an offer he couldn't refuse and he took the bait, hook, line, and sinker.

that's still good for lore/angst, but addresses that grian choose to be a watcher (also it seems like something the watchers would do)

or my other one was, grian joins the watchers and it goes as he expected and the watchers are kinda like panicked parents who are slowly regretting their choice to adopt him. while at the same time he's rubbing off on them and they're becoming more chaotic (maybe they yoink pearl so grian is less lonely)

i like that cuz it's kinda funny, no angst here, just good ol family dynamics

124 notes - Posted March 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

i really hope all of scott and pearls deaths are scotts fault

i hope pearl takes her time, makes friends and allies, only goes after like surface iron, and almost never gets herself in danger

and when scott gets in trouble she eats food and works to regen their hearts

because i want scotts downfall to be his own fault

i don’t want him being able to blame pearl for his deaths, or his health losses, he doesn’t want his soulmate but i hope she still works hard for the both of then

289 notes - Posted June 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Sounds about right #love that my favorite mutuals are the top people I rebloged this year #And myself lmao

[antimony-medusa]

orchid, abelia, and daffodil for the ask game!

orchid ⇢ what’s a song you consider to be perfect?

Okay I just listened to a LOT of songs and this is a really tough question for me? I get to a point and my interest lags, or like. It's hard. PERFECT is a high bar. But anyways, I love music, so, two more options.

abelia ⇢ do you have a particular piece of jewelry you always wear or can’t part with?

Okay uh. This gets wild, I know, sorry, but I saved the tag from my brother's ashes and I wear it on a chain. Just looks like a silver pendant I think, it's been fourteen years and I think I've had two people comment on it. (Usually I just say "oh it's something of my brother's" and then bounce hard into the weather.) But yeah, that one doesn't come off.

daffodil ⇢ do you have siblings? if yes, in what ways do you think you’re similar to or different from them?

I am the oldest of ten siblings! So once you add in in-laws, and now nieces and nephews and niblings, when the family gets together we need multiple tables for sure.

We all tend to a certain brand of dark, self-depricating humour, and we tend to ramble all over in conversations in a way neurotypical people think is weird but sucks to be them, and we tend to look things up during conversation and share interesting facts, and we're all on a scale that starts at "pretty introverted" and ends at me, the internet-enabled hermit.

And on the other side of the coin I am not straight or conservative. So. There's that.

[Flowers Get To Know Me Ask Game!]

#cw death #ask game #bonesandcacti

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

How Genshin Impact Charas Love (as told by tarot) | Kazuha

tags: tarot, headcanons, reblogs appreciated

a/n: finally a kazuha post from me, long overdue at this point. i wasn’t able to get him on his first banner because qiqi wanted to say ‘hi’ instead but he will be coming home on his rerun. kazuha havers, cherish him for me until then. fellow kazuha wanters, may we achieve greatness when he gets his rerun finally. i was originally planning to use a different deck, but tbh this one just has such a kazuha vibes. hopefully it feels as poetic as the maple samurai does

deck: true black tarot

king of pentacles, ten of pentacles, the hermit, nine of pentacles

with kazuha your lover, you will be rich in terms of love and emotional wealth. 

ever the romantic, kazuha doesn’t enter relationships with the idea of them being short-term, even with his status as a wanderer. initiating a relationship with anyone is allowing your threads of fate to intertwine, a romantic relationship with you is no different.

he can’t promise to be a lover in the traditional sense. he doubts it’ll be a long time before he truly feels like he’ll want to settle down in one place, but he promises to always return after the end a journey and before embarking on the next. in fact, he wouldn’t be opposed at all to you coming along and seeing the wonders the world has to offer.

if the day should come, however, he wouldn’t be opposed to finally settling down somewhere. ideally some place quiet, not too far off from a city, where all four seasons can be experienced in their beauty but any resources a larger town can supply can benefit you both. he cherishes his peace and quiet and privacy with you, but he isn’t opposed to interactions of the lively sort. even if it isn’t a journey to the opposite end of the world, a journey is a journey no matter how short the distance.

he’ll simply make an adventure wherever the two of you happen to settle.

if you’d like to commission a love compatibility reading, commissions are open!

#look she's writing #tarot #headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #black writers of tumblr #kazuha rerun when #kazuha rerun who #kazuha rerun pls #mihoyo i am begging you #everything is almost ready for him TAT #🍁

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Band-Aids Don’t Fix Bullet Holes, But Your Kisses Do

summary:  in a standoff with an unsub, reader makes a choice: her life or spencer’s. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader 

category: angst/fluff at the end 

warnings/includes: canon typical case violence, based off of episode “haunted” so spoilers, guns/gun violence, hospitals, kissing, mentions of hotch’s stabbing 

word count: 3437 

author’s note: i wrote this one a while ago and thought i’d share it. if anyone wants to be tagged, i’m going to figure it out and i’ll add you to a tag list!!  

Band-Aids Don’t Fix Bullet Holes, But Your Kisses Do

The two agents that sat on swivel chairs facing each other fake arguing about an episode of Dr. Who. Spencer had his legs straight out, resting on Y/N’s lap comfortably. She leaned forward and placed her chin on her hand as she explained to Spencer her thoughts on the episode. 

“Spencer, you cannot tell me that you don't think  David Tennant is hot! I watched the episode with you and I can tell you are-" 

“I’m not going to argue against that, Y/N. David Tennant is,” Spencer started as he fiddled with the lollipop that Garcia handed him when he and Y/N walked into the bullpen.

“Is what, Spence?” A teasing look graced her face as Spencer’s blush grew down his exposed neck and collarbone. 

“He’s hot, okay Y/N is that what you want me to say!” Spencer’s voice rose a couple octaves from his admission over his not-so-subtle-crush on The Doctor.

“That’s exactly what I wanted you to say, Spencer. Least I know we have the same type” She said with a wink. 

“You got a type, Y/N?” Derek called from the doorway of the conference room. 

“Yeah, hot doctors with brown hair”  Emily said without missing a beat. She had walked in behind Derek, the pair  of them discussing her annual Sin-to-Win Weekend in Atlantic City. 

“But they, you know, have to be like Time Lords, or whatever” She said in efforts to cover up her growing discomfort. 

She turned her attention back to Reid, who was in the process of trying to remove his leg from her warm lap. He did not want to give Derek anymore ammunition to make sly jokes at his not-so-subtle-crush on his best friend/co-worker. Secretly, he wanted to keep his leg there, against her soft thigh and maybe she’d drop her hands on his leg in a comforting gesture of….friendship. 

Garcia placed a tin decorated with white and orange cats dressed in bonnets on the table just within reach of Hotch’s usual spot near the monitor. Reid reached forward to open the tin, which he deduced was filled with Penelope’s infamous snickerdoodle cookies. Unfortunately, before the genius profiler could reach the gaudy tin, Penelope swatted his hand away from grasping the cookies. 

“Hey! Those are for Hotch” Penelope shouted as she grabbed the tin and moved them closer to Hotch’s chair. 

“What? You know I love cookies, Garcia. Come on, Hotch hates attention” 

“I just made some cookies, it’s not like I made him a cake.” Penelope argued as Derek and Emily both quietly eyed the cookies. 

“Spence, we’ll make cookies tonight. It looks like it’s just a paperwork day” Y/N said with a slight smile, that, in turn, elicited a big grin from an unsuspecting Spencer.

“Anyway,” Derek started as he chose to ignore the interaction that unfolded before him “we all know he’s going to act like nothing happened” he remarked as he fingered through the dozen case files spread out before him on the table. 

“Doesn’t mean we have to,” Penelope said sadly as she looked down at the cat cookie tin.  

“Maybe we should,” Reid said quietly to his co-workers. 

“But, I’m not built like that!” said Penelope. 

“Hotch is though, Penny,” Y/N noted as she snuck a cookie while Penelope’s back was turned. She broke it in half and handed it to Spencer under the table. He winked at her as she shushed him. 

“Yeah, Y/N,” Spencer said with a mouthful of cookie, “Hotch never blinks” he finished with a large swig of lukewarm, sugared coffee. 

“Classic Alpha Male” Spencer said, looking towards Derek. 

“Do you think he stared down Foyet...you know while it happened?” Emily questioned. She was usually the one who could stomach all these, but when it came to the team, she was as nervous as the lot of them. 

“It’s probably what saved his life,” Derek said somberly. 

“He can’t be okay,” Penelope said with a whisper. 

“I wouldn’t be,” Spencer said with an air of uncertainty, “I’m a blinker” 

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There was an uncomfortable silence during the ride to Louisville. Hotch was more sullen than usual, but, thankfully, Garcia broke the tension with her reports via computer screen. 

“Our point in Louisville is Lieutenant Kevin Mitchell, my contacts don’t report any more attacks related to this unsub” JJ relayed. She sat next to Derek, who was across from Hotch and Rossi. Emily sat criss cross on the table across from the foursome. On the small jet couch, Spencer and Y/N played a game of chess as they listened to the initial reports JJ received from the local PD. 

“Call’s proving hard to track. He never had a driver’s license, so he’s probably still on foot,” Spencer mumbled without removing his eyes from the chessboard. 

“Or public transportation,” Y/N added as she cringed when Spencer announced “check”. 

“Well, he’s not going to get anywhere too far with his face all over the news,” Emily continued. 

“So, what do we think the stressor is,” Rossi nodded. 

“He just lost his job. Worked in a factory since 1990. He made appliances forever. Not a single promotion” Garcia’s voice came across a little staticky. 

“That’s a long time to be bitter,” Derek posed. 

“Or he just doesn’t care,” Reid countered. 

“According, to what you sent over Garcia, he kind of seems like a hermit. Far as I can tell he’s got no one. No wife, no children, no parents.” Y/N added with a sad tone in her voice. 

With a sharp tone, Hotch added “then why didn’t he kill himself?” 

“He’s not finished killing yet,” Reid continued the thought, “check mate!” 

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It was at times like these that it seemed like the case drags on forever. Call had kidnapped a little boy, who, Spencer had figured out was Call’s biological son.  The local PD was getting them nowhere. Those overly macho cops seemed to be having a difficult time taking orders from JJ. Y/N watched as she marched over to Mitchell and demanded that he give a press conference. 

Y/N chuckled quietly to herself as she watched the interaction. JJ was a force to be reckoned with, especially when the life of an innocent child was at stake. That cop had no idea who he was challenging. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Spencer called from his spot in front of the whiteboard. It was decorated with a combination of their messy, rushed handwriting. Spencer grasped his blue marker and looked at Y/N with a painful expression. 

“I’m not getting anywhere with this geographical profile,” Spencer’s somber tone flooded Y/N’s emotions with an overwhelming sense to comfort him. 

“Spencer, put the marker down and look at me, please, for a second.” He obliged as he turned to face her.

Y/N reached up on her tiptoes to gently rub her hands along the base of Spencer’s neck. He could feel the tension melt away. Spencer was not one for physical affection, but he realized that he, in fact, craved the soft touches of people he trusted. Whether it was a brotherly pat on the back from Morgan, a playful high five from Garcia, a proud fist bump from Hotch, Spencer had grown to seek out affection. 

“Y/N,” he said. His voice but a whisper in the loud, hectic bullpen. 

“Shh,” She could sooth his worries just with a graze of her hands across his neck. It was magic to a scientist. Her magical presence set him on fire. 

“Hey, we can do this, Spence, all of us, but we need you,” Y/N voice mirrored his own. A hushed whisper that fueled the flames of his love. 

Instead of kissing her forehead or even hugging her, all Spencer could make out was a small thank you, before, like the wind, she was gone to see if Garica had any updates on the missing boy. 

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

In a frantic hour, Garcia had discovered a possible location of Tommy and his father, Darrin. Like most the unsubs, they were children of tragedy. Children of abusive homes and of deep rooted violence. It was up to the team, as they raced down the street in their crowded SUVs, to stop the cycle of violence for claiming another innocent child. 

“Hotch, you are on speaker,” Emily called from the passenger seat of the car as Derek sped down the warehouse where they suspected Tommy to be held. 

“Do not go in there without SWAT, do you all here me?” Hotch said sternly. 

“That means you, Derek, don’t go in there till backup gets there,” JJ added from the phone that Emily held. 

“You got it, boss man,” Derek made a sharp turn that led Y/N to nearly fall into Spencer, who sat next to her. 

“Spencer! Where is your vest!?” Y/N asked him impatiently, with a tinge of nervousness and fear laced in her tone. 

“Y/N, Call doesn’t have a gun, he’s been using weapons of opportunity. The profile points to him not even being armed right now. If anything-” 

“Screw the profile, Spencer!” Y/N’s voice was hysterical now. “You need to where a damn vest, you are an FBI agent, if you get-” 

Y/N’s rant to Spencer was stopped short by the disturbing sight before her. From the SUV the four of them could see an even more distraught Call standing out in the middle of the warehouse parking lot. He held Tommy by the neck, with a gun pointed at his temple. Derek stopped the car and jumped out, his gun wielded as he began to try to talk the man down. 

“Call, drop the weapon and release Tommy, right now!” Derek’s voice loomed large and powerful as Emily, Reid, and Y/N each got out of the vehicle and turned their spots with Morgan. 

“You don’t want to hurt Tommy,” Spencer started. “we know who he is to you, we know that he’s your son, and that you weren’t there for him.” He put his gun away in an attempt to show Call that he was not a threat. Y/N could read the desperation in Spencer’s voice from a mile away. Call, like Spencer’s mom lives with schizophrenia. Spencer and Hotch nearly had it out in the middle of the bullpen after Spencer insinuated that Hotch was implying that Call was only going on this murder spree because of his condition.

“Just let the boy go, Call.” Y/N continued the track that Derek and Spencer started. “Just let your son go. We will make sure that you can get medicine, that’s why you went to the pharmacy, right? You need meds to help yourself and then,-” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N could see Spencer inching closer and closer to Tommy. As if it was a chain reaction, Call drew his weapon and fired towards Spencer. Before she even could realize the consequences of her actions, Y/N tackled Spencer to the ground. The bullet lodged itself into the Kevlar vest she wore. Her side burned as she came to understand what had transpired in the last couple of seconds. 

Spencer scrambled onto his knees and clutched Y/N’s cold hands in his. 

“Spence, I’m okay,” Y/N said as she struggled to sit up straight with Spencer practically laying on top of her. 

“No, Y/N! Don’t do that,” Spencer started with tears flooding the corners of his eyes. The little droplets made his sometimes brown and sometimes green eyes sparkle with sadness. 

Spencer moved his hands from the place where the bullet lodged itself in her Kevlar to grasp her face tenderly. But his movement caused her cheek to be painted with a deep red handprint in the shape of the crying man crouching before her hand.

“Spencer,” she let out a small whimper when she saw the look of horror on his face.  Before he could even ask her why she did what she did, Y/N passed out, her limp, cold hand finding its home in the comfort of soft, warm ones. 

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

The rest of the case passed in a numbing hum for Spencer. Once Y/N got shot by Call he let go of Tommy and Derek shot him the leg. Spencer did not even stay for when Emily and Derek apprehended the unsub. It was like his legs acted of their own accord when the EMT showed up for Y/N and he walked with them never letting go of her hand. 

The ride to the hospital in the back of the ambulance was hectic. The EMTs had to monitor her heart rate, her blood pressure, and her oxygen. Even the temptation of numbers could not capture Spencer’s attention as he mulled over the possible conclusions to why Y/N would take a bullet for him. There was no logical reason for it. Not one. Spencer let the steady rocking of the ambulance to soothe him as he gently rubbed his thumb over Y/N’s hand. Even though he longed to hold her against himself, this would have to do, for now at least. Till then, Spencer forced his mind to focus on the pattern that her beating heart created.

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

Hospitals terrified Spencer. The smell, the sick people, the people who were unsavable. Part of him wonders what his life would be like if he became a medical doctor. As a kid, he had a future where he could do anything he could dream of. Cure schizophrenia on Monday, operate on an inoperable tumor on Tuesday- that’s what his life could have been like. 

But sitting there, in the sterile hospital with the white walls and constant beeping, Spencer’s mind was only thinking of another life he could be out living. In the minutes that he sat with Y/N as she lay in pain in his arm, false memories of a life together painted in his mind. Laughing children, family picnics, couple’s Halloween costumes. He stroked her hair and saw a life so familiar that he could almost taste it. He tasted cookies that they baked together as they danced without a care in the world. He tasted Halloween and Forth of July and all the holidays in between. He tasted butterfly kisses with his children that had her hair and her eyes and her smile. 

He was stripped away from those memories that he didn’t even own. Now all he could taste was the bitterness of regret, the sourness of what if, and the tartness of the nightmares masquerading as reality. 

“Family of Y/L/N,” a surgeon dressed in light blue scrubs walked into the waiting area with an unreadable expression on her face.

JJ and Derek stood up immediately as the doctor went to continue to deliver the news. 

“She’s awake and doing okay,” the doctor said with a relieved expression. 

“Oh that goodness,” JJ said as she hugged Emily in a moment of happiness. 

“She’s a fighter,” Derek quipped, “I’m going to call Garcia, she’s probably a nervous wreck” 

“She’ll make a full recovery, but should avoid air travel because her internal bleeding,” the doctor reported, “also, which one of you is Spencer? Even since she’d been lucid, she’s been asking for you,” she said looking around at the remaining group, with her eyes landing on the man in question. 

“She is?” Spencer questioned carefully. He was worried that maybe she regretted jumping in front of him. 

“Yes, why don’t you come with me. It may make her more comfortable having someone she wants with her” 

Y/N wants him. 

Him. 

Spencer was not sure how he even walked himself down the corridor to where Y/N’s room was located. But sure enough, he was met with her ashen face beaming up at his. 

“Y/N! Oh my goodness, are you okay, I mean, obviously you’re injured so you’re not okay. I don’t mean to invalidate your pain, I just...why, Y/N, why on Earth would you do that?” Spencer finished. His voice was more tender towards the end. He looked down at his friend before him and tried to read the expression that graced her face. 

“Spencer, I did what I had to do. You….you would have died,” Spencer noticed the tears that puddled in her eyes and had to suppress the sudden urge to kiss them away. 

“I’d rather die than live my life in a world without you, Spencer.”

Spencer closed his eyes and sat down on the bed with her. 

“Why?” he asked in a voice that was hardly audible. It can’t be, he thought. Maybe this is just something that a teammate does for another teammate. Comrades in arms or something like that, he thought. Trying to make sense of senselessness. 

“Why do you value my life more than yours? Why-how can you do that” there was not stopping tears in his eyes now. She reached out and held his face, like he held her as she bled out in the warehouse only a couple of hours ago. 

“Spence, my life would be dull and gray without you in it. You’re my best-” She stared as he tensed up at what he knew was coming. She only jumped in front of him because it’s what a teammate does. 

“Please, I can't bear to hear that. I-maybe you only can think of me as a teammate or worse a brother, but part of me. A hopeful and romantic part of me that I can't let go of the thought of you thinking about in a different way,” he was so embarrassed, so raw in the moment that he could not bear to even look her in the eyes. 

“Spencer?” he could only watch the way that their fingers laced together. He focused on the patterns between the itchy hospital blanket. 

“Y/N,” he started and took a deep breath. Spencer had never intended to tell her this. Maybe in moments of drunken bravery he thought about it, but he’d always sober up before his dreams could come to fruition. 

“I’m a logical man, I solve problems for a living but sometimes. Sometimes, I can’t use logic to solve some problems, and there’s no logical reason for you to jump in front of a bullet for me. Unless you love me? And I hope with every fiber of being that you do, because I am so desperately in love with you” 

Spencer allowed himself, for the first in his life, to have once of hope and faith. 

Y/N’s eyes met Spencer’s in an uncharacteristically shy moment. 

“I do, Spence. Of course I love you”

Spencer let out a nervous laugh as he, once again, gently placed his hands on her jaw. He placed a kiss on her forehead. The small, tender affection elicited a whimper from Y/N. Spencer jumped back in horror. 

“Oh, honey did I hurt you? You gotta tell me where it hurts” he murmured in a comforting voice. 

“Hmm, no I’ve just been waiting five years for you to kiss me and you settle on my forehead?” Y/N beamed up at him expectantly. 

“Nowhere do you want me to kiss you, my dear?” Spencer questioned playfully. 

“How about in between everywhere and anywhere you want, Doctor Reid,” Y/N, despite the pain, managed a smile for the man that held her hand so lovingly. 

“How about here?” Spencer leaned forward and kissed the left corner of her mouth. 

“Or here?” The right corner. 

“What about here, I’ve dreamed of kissing you here.” He moved his mouth to meet the place on her neck that met her collarbone. Y/N looked up at Spencer dreamily. One day she might chalk it up to the painkillers flooding through her system, but the pure adoration that melted from Spencer’s lips to her skin was something that never knew she’d crave. 

“And here” 

His lips parted slightly as he moved in to meet hers. The feeling was more divine and earth shattering than when Prometheus gave humans fire. Together, intertwined in bedsheets, IVs, and fingers laced with hair, they lit a fire of their own. Kissing Spencer stopped time. 

It was Y/N who broke first. 

“Spencer,” she said with a new reverence that would only be reserved for him. 

“Yes, sweet girl?” 

“You gotta promise me something,” she said as she raked her hands across his arms, feeling him shudder under her touch. 

“Anything and everything for you” he said, mirroring her earlier words to him. 

“Wear a vest next time”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid x reader happy endings #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff