astralqueenoc - Tumblr blog

astralqueenoc · 5 months ago

Text

LAW OF SURVIVAL

the bison .ˊˎ 🦬

Charles Smith x Fem!Reader

Words: 2,384

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of death, references to past sex experiences, oddly soft! charles, no use of y/n, established relationship, cursing

Summary: Charles decides it’s time that you learn how to hunt but you have your reservations.

A/N: so… I’m definitely playing rdr2 again. english isn’t my first language so please feel free to correct me <3

Masterlist

•••

It couldn’t be so hard, right?

That’s what you had thought after being approached by a frustrated Charles, his mind hazed with concern as he had returned to camp after a few days away… And by the look in his eyes, you could tell whatever Dutch had sent him to do didn’t end well.

You knew you couldn’t say no to him at that moment, Charles was usually surrounded by a peace that he willingly shared with you calming your troubled mind immediately, so seeing him so… disturbed and concerned made you agree immediately.

‘Breathe’ His voice was like a caress against the skin of your ear, a balm against the nerves that seemed to emerge from you, resulting in a small tremble of your hands.

His hands moved up your arms, grazing against the fabric of the blouse that covered your skin as he straightened your shoulders and positioned his face close to yours to try and have a similar field of view as the one you owned. ‘Careful with your posture…’ One of his fingers moved to push the bow slightly to the side. ‘And your aim’

The small force he applied to the side of the bow made it aim directly at a deer’s head. Your breath hitched and a small frown appeared on your demeanor as you tried to steady the bow.

His fingers grazed the skin of your shoulders to soothe you as he leaned in closer to you. The warm heat of the man pressing against your side as he fixed your posture again. As you tried to keep your eyes on the prey and not on the fellow hunter close to you, your breath hitched.

‘Breathe in…’ Charles indicated as he pressed one hand against your back to help you control your breathing pattern ‘Breathe out…’

Attempting to do as he said, you copied every breath he took following with one of your own and trying to hold your breath inside the same amount of seconds he could.

But it just wasn’t in you. Even he knew that it wasn’t. Charles adored that of you, in a way, he fell for the gentleness of your soul. The way you treated everyone around you in such a kind manner warmed his heart. Sometimes, he even saw you with Jack, and his thoughts couldn’t help but wonder about how perfect you would be as a mother.

‘I… I can’t do it, Charles” You whispered when the deer moved his head upwards and it tilted to the side.

‘You need to’ His voice perhaps sounded harsher than needed as he stiffened beside you ‘An animal is always… Easier’

While holding your breath, Charles moved two fingers over the ones you had already tensing the thread of the bow. His hand hovered over yours and the contact of his skin against yours made goosebumps blossom where he landed a finger.

‘I can’t’ You repeated and when he pulled your hand backward so that you could reach the point where you couldn’t maintain the tension of the bow and would let the arrow shoot, your breath hitched and your eyes widened with surprise.

His name left your lips as a warning but when he didn’t move you quickly pushed the bow to a side. The arrow shot breaking through the wood of a pine tree. You quickly shoved him away from you, lips parting open in surprise.

‘What are you even doing, Charles?!’

His gaze followed the way the deer ran away after being startled by the loud sound of your voice and the arrow that was shot near its body. His lips pressed together in a line and he remained silent.

Not showing any visible evidence of his anger, the man took a step closer to you. His eyes were dark as Charles towered over you, he didn’t move his gaze for you for even a moment. You had seen that look in his eyes before.

Fuck.

Charles rarely got angry or at least he rarely showed any manifestation of the ire that could be burning his body from the inside out. However, there it was. That look in his eyes gave him away, a look you have seen before. But, in this case, it was directed to you.

‘Don’t look at me like that’ You managed to mutter as you tilted your head backward so that you could gaze into his eyes.

That was dumb. You realized that right after you had mumbled the words. He was never angry and now that he was… It was the moment you had decided to push his buttons?

Therefore, when he moved one hand up to cup your cheek tenderly, your lips parted open with surprise. ‘Did I startle you?’ His whispered question confused you even more.

And then it hit you. It wasn’t anger, it was fear… He was scared, terrified even.

You managed to shake your head gently as a response. ‘Good… I just want you to be able to protect yourself.’ Charles grumbled, his hand caressing your cheek gently. ‘In case…— You have to know how to survive’

Charles can’t afford to lose you. Loss has been a constant variable during his life. He can’t remember one important person for him that he hadn’t lost… Despite you. For now at least. With you, he had managed to live, not just survive… But living with you by his side and finally losing the only thing he wanted to lose: his solitude. Charles usually felt like his only purpose in life was suffering, life is usually complicated but for the man it has been even worse. He lacked life's understanding until now at least.

The lone wolf now had a pack. He had found the gang in Blackwater a few months again and with them, he had found you. Of course, you were the one who approached him first. A gentle smile over your lips to make him feel welcomed and a plate of warm stew on your hands, a small offering for him to eat something.

You had wrapped up his injured hand with some old bandages you managed to pack before running away from Blackwater. And you had constantly checked his burnt skin over that time without being invasive.

So it didn’t take him long before he found himself wrapped around your finger even though you were unaware of his feelings back then.

Until one night.

One night he had drunk more than he usually did. Another celebration of a successful mission in which they all had gathered along the fire, listening to Javier’s guitar and singing in the barely illuminated night. Voices loud and carefree. A rare moment of peace taking into consideration the times they were living.

Charles had approached you to your surprise and probably even his. He never talked to you first, it was always the other way around so when he offered you to go for a walk you couldn't deny the offer. Shy smile over your lips as you walked in silence next to him until you two were far enough.

Next thing you knew, his lips were over yours. Soon, you were whimpering his name while he was buried deep inside you, back against a tree and nails digging deep into his broad back.

‘Can't we practice with inanimate objects?’ You whispered gently leaning into the hand that was cupping your cheek, a small smile over your lips as you looked up into his eyes. ‘I know how much you hate hunting animals when there's no reason...’

The man visibly tensed in front of you. He despised any form of blood spilling, human or animal. That was the reason he had left the other gangs he had been implicated with, most of the members usually being dishonorable and just murdering for the morbid it supposed.

He did have a far more compassionate soft spot for animals, knowing they weren't able to defend themselves in most cases. Especially, for bisons. It wouldn't be the first time he had encountered problems confronting vicious killers who murdered them for sport... And it wouldn't be the last time either.

‘There is a reason... You- You need to practice with something that moves’ He mumbled as his other hand moved to your hip, seeking the warm comfort of your skin against his when he pulled you closer to his body.

‘Charles... You and I both know that an animal ain't the same as a person’ Your soft whispering seemed to soothe his tense muscles as his hand gripped the fabric of your blouse, calloused fingers digging into your skin and creating small indents.

‘It will do’

‘Teaching me how to hunt with a bow isn't teaching me to defend myself, darlin'... An arrow has nothing to do against a bullet’ Perhaps you were being harsh, but you needed him to understand. You knew him which meant you were also aware of how his worry was clouding his judgment.

‘I—’ His brows furrowed together before he leaned in closer to bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as his hands moved from your hips to wrap around your body in a tight embrace, shaky breaths escaping his lips. The situation had your heart aching, Charles never lost his composure... Ever.

‘What's going on, darlin'?’ Your strained voice was perceived by his senses and so were the gentle caresses your hand delivered through his long dark locks of onyx hair, in an attempt to soothe him. At first, the only response that was received was his hold tightening around you.

His breath hitched in your ear, his nose nuzzling against the length of your neck, soon finding your pulse point. ‘I can't lose you’ He whispered shakily, his lips brushing against your skin while he spoke. ‘I can't... Not you too’ He mumbled and his body trembled slightly between your arms.

‘I ain't going anywhere, love’

‘How can you know?’ He asked back to you, lips still hovering over your pulse point. ‘The missions... Each one turns worse than the one before. We're always running away from camp to camp. You know the day in which we can't escape will eventually arrive’

You swallowed hard and he pressed a gentle kiss against your neck to soothe you when he felt the way your throat moved, Charles pulled away to be able to look into your eyes. One of his hands moved up to brush some of the hairs that framed your face behind your ear.

'’And in case I'm not there...’ He began and you immediately looked into his dark eyes. ‘If I'm not alive...’ At the thought, your eyes widened softly, head shaking as you tried to stop the stinging sensation that the tears beginning to form caused. ‘Don't go down that path, Charles’ Your words and the sight of your teary eyes made him sigh.

‘Angel...’ He whispered and you unconsciously held your breath in your lungs.

Charles usually never called you by any pet name... Unless you two were tangled in the darkness underneath the security of his tent, there the man was somehow unrecognizable.

‘I want you to keep living’ He mumbled out gently as he leaned in closer to press his forehead against yours noticing how one tear dropped down your cheek so he quickly wiped it away. You weren't dumb, you knew the dark times the gang was suffering so his words made your heart shutter... It sounded like a goodbye.

‘Don't you dare say goodbye to me, Charles’

‘Let me do it, my angel... Just in case’ He whispered gently and his lips moved to kiss the damp path another tear had left over your right cheekbone. ‘I want you to know how to survive... But not just that, I want you to live your life, get away from this life, have pretty little babies, and grow old on a small porch. I want you to die happy’

You were quick to shake your head. ‘I want that with you... I am going to die happy because you're going to be by my side. Old and wrinkly and by my side’ You repeated gently as you moved your face to gently caress your lips against his.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips making them spread over his face as you leaned in even closer. He used his thumb to wipe away another one of your tears. ‘I don't want anything else more than that' Charles assured you gently. ‘But to know that you'll still live that fantasy even if I'm not there’

‘No’

‘Please, angel...’

‘No, Charles.’ Your voice was firm as you gently held onto his arms trying to stand your ground ‘You're going to be there 'cause you ain't dying, goddamnit...’ With brows furrowed together and tears falling down your cheeks, you stepped on your tip toes to be closer to his lips. ‘I want to grow old with you, I want to have my babies with you... Maybe when this is over we can go somewhere else... I dunno, maybe to Canada’

‘Canada, huh? That sounds nice...’

‘So going to Canada sounds nice but not the idea of having a family and growing old together?’You asked teasingly trying to lighten up the mood.

That made a small and short chuckle escape his lips. Charles usually didn't laugh much so you rejoiced in the small choked sound. ‘That sounds more than nice, baby...’

He mumbled before his lips captured yours in a gentle and short kiss, tasting the saltiness of the tears that had managed to fall down to your lips before he had managed to wipe them away. The kiss wasn't passionate or hungry like the ones you two usually shared after he had spent the entire day out of camp. No, this one was tender and filled with unspoken feelings that didn't need to be put into words,

When Charles pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours still savoring the taste of your lips. ‘Now, angel... I was supposed to be teaching you a hunting lesson here’

Your laugh resonated alongside the small field in between the forest scaring away the few animals that could be left.

Definitely, hunting was that hard.

268 notes · View notes

astralqueenoc · 5 months ago

Text

Touch and Agree | Charles x Reader

charles smith x f! reader | no warnings | 2.1k | ao3 |

was trying to get back into writing but i was struck with an indescribable sadness once i thought about how useless charles must’ve felt after burning his hand in blackwater. so. i raise you unknowingly touchstarved reader versus Charles™

The horses have slowed to a trot by the time you press your cheek to the frosted window.

You hear Arthur shout some muffled declaration of success as he and Charles’ shadows curl around the front of the stable. The gang is likely aware of their return, senses now heightened by hunger and the frigid winds of Colter. But you feel the need to relay the message to the few still silently huddled in the corners:

“If you’ve been praying, today’s your lucky day.”

Tilly, arms crossed tight over her torso, is the first to pipe up from her spot near the fireplace. “Micah finally saw his sorry behind off the nearest cliffside?”

“Miss Tilly!” Grimshaw hisses, scandalized. The only thing stronger than Grimshaw's personal gripes are the exigencies of the gang. “No more of that. You know we need all the hands we can get.”

Karen, squished next to Mary-beth and a now slumbering Sadie on a wooden bench, scoffs. “Didn’t think we counted meat hooks as hands.”

That gets a snort out of John, who realizes too late that his body isn’t quite healed enough to handle said snort. A flick to the forehead from Abigail quiets him down in his cot before she turns to find you still gazing out the window.

“I’m assimin’ Arthur and Charles are back?”

You nod. “With one…two deer, by the looks of it.”

Your inhale is sharp when Charles pulls his catch over his shoulder with a jerk, beckoning Arthur to follow after him to mask his discomfort. The tension leaves your spine only after the last dregs of his shadow disappear into the stable.

Half-turned to Abigail, you mumble, “Does Charles look a little...off to you, these days?"

"Off," she repeats. The darkness under her eyes colors her words. "Off how?"

"You know," and you make as though to say something of substance before your eyebrows pinch together, "off.”

Abigail looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “If you’re waitin’ on Charles to scream bloody murder, it’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than a burn to do him in.”

Another brick is slotted into a broken wall.

“I’m just worried.”

“About?”

“Charles. I think his hand is botherin’ him again.”

Abigail’s sigh dusts the cold air with its warmth. “I…suspect most things might look a little off since we've been cooped up like this. But we’ve got O’Driscolls and Pinkertons on the prod." She looks at Jack, now sitting cross legged at her feet and fiddling with the corner of John's blanket. Abigail had given up on herding him toward the fireplace some time ago. She strokes a featherlight hand over his head. "No sense in stressing yourself out over somethin’ Charles would’ve told us ages ago. It's good that he’s up and movin' though, ain't it?"

Your momentum stalls.

It should be. It should be.

Blackwater has left none unchanged. If you weren’t dead, you were shot, and if you weren’t shot, you were waiting for it. Hands bound. Body trammeled by fear and constant surveillance. From anyone else, this haste would be a blessing. A miracle, even, in light of all that'd been lost.

From Charles, it reads more like a warning.

But you don't think your feet have been planted here long enough to question their habits.

You say nothing and return your still numb cheek to the window. Will it always be like this, you wonder? The second guessing. The wary eyes. There’s a certain degree of trust that you aren’t privy to yet. Somehow, it feels worse knowing that everyone is making an effort to be so kind to you despite it. You know plenty who wouldn’t do the same.

Better dead than dead weight.

The creed still lingers. Subsisting on what little you've gleaned in the short time you've been running with Dutch's group. Perhaps that's the root of this peculiar sense of worry. Of pity. You and Charles don’t speak often—there's a general lack of overlap in duties, for one, and he mostly keeps to himself. But you've always been one for actions over words. Charles was frighteningly capable, and more than willing to prove it time and time again.

To him, the burn he’d suffered may as well have been a bullet to the leg.

Your only issue is that no one else seems to see it.

You’re tracing shapes into the windowpane when movement just outside startles you. Charles, bow in hand, stalks toward one of the smaller cabins before veering off toward the small stream that lies just behind the stables.

You're springing up and stumbling out the front door before your brain has time to temper your heart. Someone shouts after you—likely Grimshaw, from the way it rakes over your ears. But you ignore it in favor of grabbing handfuls of your skirts and pushing through the powdery snow.

When you round the corner of the stables, breath short and chest tight, you find that Charles hasn’t gone very far at all. He's leaning against a crooked tree, face all taut lines as his fingers fumble with the grip on his bow. A frown plays at your lips when you notice the path of his footprints, stretching a few paces farther before it loops back to where he stands.

“Charles?”

You think you hear him exhale through his nose before he meets your gaze with the same smile he usually does. Bright. Unwavering. A little squinty, since the sun is in his eyes. “You good?”

Right. The usual pleasantries. You've conversed with him in your head for much longer than you have in person.

“I’m uh, fine." You blink stupidly. "Are you?"

“Mhm. Right as rain.”

Your eyes can't help but slide to the bow he clutches just out of sight. He doesn’t look ashamed in the slightest.

“…I’m just holding it, for now. Till my hand heals up, at the very least.” Charles holds up the offending appendage. “Not like I have anything better to do."

It's hard to tell if he's intentionally skirting around the point, or if he really does think there aren't any better uses for his time. The frown you'd been fighting off finally gets the better of you once Charles returns to adjusting his injured hand on the bow's grip.

"I don't think you should be doing that," you insist. Because he really shouldn't be. At all.

"Afraid I can't do that," he replies. "I'm one of the few here who can hunt worth a damn in this weather. I get sloppy, we starve.”

“Is that what you think?”

“No.”

“Then—”

“It’s what I know.” He says it with enough certainty to make you almost believe him. “Go back inside and warm yourself up. 'Preciate you checking on me, but if you freeze to death, they’re gonna laugh knowing you came out here without any gloves on.”

You clench your fists. Feel the ice that's settled there begin to splinter under the pressure and breach the thick skin of your palms. Fine, then. You’ll speak to him in a language he can understand.

Though your march over is less than graceful, he parts with the bow with surprising ease. Charles’ warmth, much like the rest of him, is tailored to perfection. Your fingertips graze remnants of the finery on the parts of the parts of the bow that his hands have warmed.

His eyes flick over you. Placid. Confused, too, on account of the ever-tightening grip you have on what you hope isn't a prized possession. His vexation becomes clearer once you step away, full hands now hidden behind your back. You have to take an extra step back for your own peace of mind.

“Charles Smith,” you begin, “I’d like to strike up a deal.”

“A deal.”

“I won’t repeat myself. We’re losin' daylight here.”

Chin tipped upward, you don your favorite facade.

Confidence.

"You focus on takin’ care of that hand, and I won't tell Arthur and Hosea you've been messin' with your bow."

His face belies a slew of unvoiced expletives. But you know Charles to be the—somewhat—gentle sort, so there’s no need to brace yourself. Even if he isn’t entirely convinced, you can at least hope that he’s found a little amusement in all this.

“You said ‘strike a deal,’” he says slowly. “This smells like a threat.”

“Deal, threat, whatever strikes your fancy.” It didn’t matter so long as he stopped stretching himself so thin.

He seems to mull over your words for a bit, no longer leaning up against the tree. There is, however, a small chance that he’s trying to find the right assortment of words to get you off of his back.

“We’ve got two deer.” You continue. “If Pearson is as frugal as I remember, that’ll keep us all for about a week. Should be more than enough time to get your hand back in order, right?”

“Hm.”

There’s a moment where Charles’ uninjured hand begins to stretch towards you. You just barely remember to lean out of the way before he drops his arm with a defeated sigh.

“So no bows—”

“No knives or guns, either. Unless absolutely necessary.”

“—Then how’m I supposed to keep up my strength? Can’t just sit idle, you know. We’ve got people here who need taking care of.” He takes three steps forward, and you take three steps back. “We’ve all got weight to pull out here. I’m of no use to anybody if I’m sitting out over a little burn like this.”

There goes that nasty word again.

Use.

You can joke all you want, but that’s what this boils down to.

“Well, you…just need something to pull on, right? Keep your hands busy?”

You hold out your hand.

The corner of Charles’ lips twitch downward. "I’m keeping my knives on me—"

"Take it."

"…What?"

You laugh. Loud and exaggerated enough to shake the snow off the trees. "Some gentleman you are, lettin’ a lady’s hands grow cold.” You flex your fingers. “My hand. Take it."

You use the awkward silence that follows to explain yourself.

"I figure it's got a little more give than a bow. And it’s got enough resistance to scratch that itch. You ever feel like shooting, ask for me. Hopefully it’ll have you feeling stupid long enough for your hand to heal up."

He brings a hand up to block the sun from his eyes, and you find yourself strangely missing the gold it cast on him. "That's not something I should be asking of you."

"Works out great, don't it? You're not asking, I'm offering, so there's no problem." Or, at least there wouldn't be if things go the way you know they will. It's no well-kept secret that Charles isn't too keen on extra company during his downtime. No one faults him for it, either.

Any chance of him taking you up on your suggestion is slim.

The wind is thunderous where Charles is quiet, snaking through the empty trees.

"Whether you take it or not, I'm walking off with this bow. But I'm not about to let you run yourself into the ground."

You flex your fingers again, and they tremble.

Charles shakes his head, and you're sure you've won—

"Alright. I'll do it."

Well, that's not good.

Violently off track and suddenly very unsure of how to proceed, you drop your hand. Charles, evidently resolute in his decision, says nothing more as he approaches.

You stumble back a bit as his body nears, wishing that the head you house on your shoulders was screwed on a little tighter. You think it's begun to spin when he takes your hand into his own; gently, as if scooping up a wounded bird from the forest floor.

He opens his mouth, then promptly closes it, brows furrowing as he inspects your palm.

Something is loud.

It's your heart, you realize. Stuttering with each squeeze of his bandaged fingers. Consequences are not beneath you, it seems.

You allow him a few more experimental squeezes than you would've liked, but you can't quite shake the strange tremor that races up your throat the longer he holds you.

Nothing is said until he pulls his hand away.

“And I can do this, whenever?”

Your tongue is miles away. “I, uh. No.” Wait. Voice crack. “I mean—yeah. Yes. Whenever.”

Charles makes no note of your vocal blunder, instead taking one last look at the bow you hold before beginning to make his way back to camp.

He taps the hand at your side as he passes. Leans to talk right into your ear. “Keep these wrapped up for me, will you?”

He’s gone before you have a chance to tell him that you would’ve done it without his say-so.

(Damn it, you think. Palm tingling. I’m in some deep shit.)

281 notes · View notes

astralqueenoc · 6 months ago

Text

Well, with the impending Tik Tok ban I'll be even more active on here. I refuse to use Instagram reels, Fb, and Twitter. Tumblr and Bluesky will be my new homes till a similar app to Tik Tok comes around.

Until then, I'm gonna finally work more on my writings and I've even been exploring concepts for my own book. Idk, this is just a ramble post.

#just rambling #writing #tiktok #imsickandtiredoftheUSgovernment #bruh

0 notes

astralqueenoc · 6 months ago

Text

Made a dark mode skin to go with the light mode version of this one.

4K notes · View notes

astralqueenoc · 6 months ago

Text

Glowy dark mode site skin

🎼 You would not believe your eyes, if 10 million fireflies ended up in the header of your AO3. 🎶

It's been a while since I tried glow effects, but I saw the fireflies and I couldn't resist.

CSS code under the cut.

#header { background-image: url("https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2022/10/19/16/56/fireflies-7533056_1280.jpg"); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: cover; background-position: center center; background-color: #152623; }

#header .heading { height: 15em; }

#header .primary { background: #0d1d1f; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; }

#header .logo, #header .heading sup { visibility: hidden; }

#header .heading a { color: #152623; text-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; }

.event .userstuff { background: #425e50; border: 1px solid #f9f6ce; }

#outer.wrapper { background: #0d1d1f; color: #f9f6ce; }

#main a { color: #8c9b76; }

#greeting a.dropdown-toggle, #header .actions a { color: #f9f6ce !important; text-shadow: 0px 0px 3px #152623; }

#greeting .menu, #header .dropdown .menu, #header .dropdown:hover a { background: #0d1d1f; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; }

span.submit.actions input.button { display: none; }

#greeting img.icon { display: none; }

#header #search .text, .search [role="tooltip"] { background: #0d1d1f; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; color: #f9f6ce !important; border: 1px solid #0d1d1f; }

form.search input[type=text], form.search input[type=submit], .autocomplete div.dropdown ul { background: #0d1d1f !important; border: none; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; color: #f9f6ce; display: block; }

#header #search .text { width: 7em; }

.notice, .comment_notice, .kudos_notice, ul.notes, .caution, .error, .comment_error, .kudos_error, .alert.flash { background: #f9f6ce; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce !important; color: #0d1d1f; border: none; }

.notice a, .comment_notice a, .kudos_notice a, ul.notes a, .caution a, .error a, .comment_error a, .kudos_error a, .alert.flash a { color: #506957; font-weight: bold; }

.splash .module h3 { color: #f9f6ce; border-bottom: 2px solid #f9f6ce; }

.splash .favorite li:nth-of-type(2n+1) a { background: #f9f6ce; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; color: #0d1d1f; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps; }

.splash .favorite li:nth-of-type(2n+2) a { color: #f9f6ce; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 110%; }

.splash .favorite li:nth-of-type(2n+1) a:hover, .splash .favorite li:nth-of-type(2n+2) a:hover { color: #f9f6ce; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps; background: #425e50; }

#footer { background: #425e50; color: #f9f6ce; border-top: 3px solid #f9f6ce; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; }

#footer a, #footer .heading { color: #f9f6ce; }

.actions a, .actions a:focus, .actions input:focus, .action:focus, .actions li input, .actions li input[type="submit"], input[type="submit"], .actions li label, ul.navigation.actions li a, .action:link, .actions a:link { background: #425e50; border: 1px solid #f9f6ce; color: #f9f6ce; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; border-radius: 5px; }

.current, #dashboard .current { background: #f9f6ce !important; color: #0d1d1f !important; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce !important; border-radius: 5px; }

#dashboard.own { border-top: 5px solid #f9f6ce; border-bottom: 5px solid #f9f6ce; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; }

#dashboard a:hover { background: #0d1d1f; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; }

#dashboard a { color: #f9f6ce; }

dl.meta { border: 1px solid #f9f6ce; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; }

.listbox .index { background: #0d1d1f; }

.listbox, fieldset fieldset.listbox { background: #f9f6ce; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; }

form dl, fieldset, fieldset fieldset, fieldset fieldset fieldset, fieldset fieldset dl dl, dd.hideme, form blockquote.userstuff, input, select, select:focus, textarea, span.symbol.question, .own { background: #0d1d1f !important; color: #f9f6ce !important; border: 1px solid #f9f6ce; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; }

.autocomplete li.added, .post .meta dd ul li.added, label, label.required { color: #f9f6ce; }

span.delete { background: #f9f6ce; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; }

span.delete a { color: #0d1d1f !important; font-weight: bold; }

.ui-sortable li, .dynamic form, div.dynamic { background: #0d1d1f; border: 1px solid #f9f6ce; }

.dropdown { background: #0d1d1f; }

form.verbose legend, .verbose form legend { background: #f9f6ce; color: #0d1d1f; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; }

li.blurb { border: 1px solid #f9f6ce; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; }

.draft { background: #0d1d1f; color: #f9f6ce; border: 2px dashed #f9f6ce; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; }

.draft .wrapper { background: #0d1d1f; border: 1px solid #f9f6ce; }

#header h2 { background: #f9f6ce !important; color: #0d1d1f; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; }

#stat_chart svg rect:first-of-type { opacity: 60%; }

#stat_chart g[clip-path^=url] > g:nth-of-type(2) rect, #stat_chart svg g:nth-of-type(2) > g rect:last-of-type, #stat_chart g[clip-path^=url] > g:nth-of-type(2) rect:first-of-type { filter: hue-rotate(140deg); opacity: 80% !important; }

.statistics .index li:nth-of-type(2n) { background: #0d1d1f; border: 1px solid #f9f6ce; }

.reading h4.viewed, dl.index dd, table, th, dt.child { background: #0d1d1f; }

#modal, span.replied { background: #0d1d1f; color: #f9f6ce; border: 2px solid #f9f6ce; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; }

h4.heading.byline { background: #f9f6ce; color: #0d1d1f; }

li.comment { border: 1px solid #f9f6ce; }

.comment div.icon { border-bottom: 5px solid #f9f6ce; box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; }

.thread .even { background: #425e50; }

.unread { background: #0d1d1f; border: 5px dashed #f9f6ce !important; }

span.unread { background: #f9f6ce; color: #0d1d1f; }

span.indicator::before { box-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; }

.warnings .tag, .work .warning a.tag, dd.warning.tags a { border: 1px solid #f9f6ce; border-radius: 5px; background: #f9f6ce; padding-left: 2px; padding-right: 2px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 10px #f9f6ce; }

.relationships .tag, .work .relationships a.tag, dd.relationship.tags a { background: none; color: #f9f6ce !important; font-weight: bold; text-shadow: 0px 0px 15px #f9f6ce; }

.filters .expander { background: url("https://64.media.tumblr.com/3c89981f933f9f57157d6dcec6fd85a7/94c6737c6db9ad60-e5/s1280x1920/f7557e617a5439c506721bd326580a0cb4c1f8d8.png") left center no-repeat; color: #f9f6ce !important; font-weight: bold; }

.filters .expanded .expander { background: url("https://64.media.tumblr.com/dab095a2fd9387bc1e0c57747ba6b13f/94c6737c6db9ad60-ad/s1280x1920/c1a4e14e0565cdcac5d3e20bebac3ab440f2d607.png") left center no-repeat; }

8K notes · View notes