#But it’s all worth it in the end. I love doing these silly little drawings! 🥰🥰🥰

[avida-heidia-5]

Chapter 11 is finished, baby! For There Is Thunder In Our Hearts, Baby by my good friend @kaossbells!!! …Baby! 🥰😘

🕯️ Candlelit Dinner:

🧜🏻‍♀️ Under The Sea:

🥞 “Room Service!”:

Scenes for Chapter 12 will be dropping in a couple of hours! I am on a ROLL with these! Woop woop! 🙌🏻

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Sunday, Boothill, Welt, Gallagher, Blade, and Dan Heng react to his shy gn crush giving him a love letter before leaving quickly?

Sunday:

Is calm upon receiving the note and still just as calm after reading it.

He knew this day was coming, you weren’t necessarily subtle about it either but he didn’t want to bring it up to you, knowing that if he did you’d loose all the confidence you’ve mustered up in order to give him the note.

He could read you like an open book and yet your sweet, genuine words touched his heart regardless. You held his heart in your hand and you weren’t even aware, he’ll be sure to rectify that soon enough.

While he wishes you could’ve told him in person, however he’ll gladly suffice for a note instead, seeing as it was the closest he’ll get in regard to an official confession.

With his place in your heart ensured, Sunday could finally use this as an opportunity to spoil you to your hearts content. Anything and everything you could ever possibly want or wish for was going to be yours if he had anything to do with it.

Your wish was his command and he’ll gladly rid himself of any competitors for your heart, all the while shielding your eyes from his underhanded tactics in doing so.

Welt:

You make this old man feel as though he were young and lively when you gave him the note and running off before he could say anything.

He felt as though he was in a romcom that he saw once…not that he was complaining.

Your note was so sweet and thoughtful that the more he continued to read, the more he began to find even more reasons to love you, for who you were was the most precious and perfect person in his life.

He didn’t want to confess first incase that he misread your past interactions for something else, but the note you’ve given him proved that his initial thoughts were correct, and that in reality he was just insecure and felt silly of the idea that someone his age was still experiencing things such as a crush.

But it was so much more than that and Welt knew it.

The only question left was, when was it going to be his time to confess?

Dan heng:

Thank god he took the note back to his room while he did because had he read it beforehand, otherwise his fellow trailblazers would’ve seen his face go the reddest it’s ever been in history.

He reads and re-reads your note to make sure that he wasn’t tricking himself but no, it was a real physical note from you confessing your crush on him.

Dan Heng felt as though he needed to sit down and think this through before he did something impulsive and stupid.

His little dragon noodle brain was telling him that he should seek out the most beautiful of all treasures, whether that be literature, clothing, jewels, and give them to you in droves in hopes of impressing you into being his mate.

Dan Heng dismisses it quickly as it came as it’ll probably overwhelm you and that was the exact opposite of what he wanted, and with that it was back to the drawing board to brainstorm.

Gallagher:

The moment he reads your note, he’s already got ideas on how your first date should go.

He’s not pissing about, not when you’ve given him the opportunity to treat you like he thought you should be treated; like you were the most priceless thing in existence because to him you very much were.

So why should he hesitate and potentially miss his chance to be with the person of his dreams?

He knew your favourite drink like the back of his hand from the countless times he’s made in perfecting it to your liking, so that wasn’t going to be as much of a problem as asking you out on a date was.

But he’ll figure something out, even if he’d have to improvise on the day. It would’ve been worth it if it meant having you by his side by the end of it.

Blade:

He’s not use to this sort of thing as love notes were a foreign concept to him.

He understood the intention and meaning behind it but he wasn’t the one to receive such notes.

So when you dropped off the note with him and ran the faster he’s ever seen you with a flustered look upon your face, Blade instantly knew then and there what the note was solely from your expression.

He wasn’t stupid so why he feeling a fluttering within his chest upon making this revelation?

It wasn’t painful nor caused his body any ache nor strife, if anything the more the warm, euphoric feeling spread throughout his body, the more his daily pains become an after thought in light of a possibility that you might actually like him back.

He always thought that the stories and blood -both his own and others- that stained his hands would run you off within a moments notice. Instead you choose to grasp his hands gently, wipe away the blood unfazed and still be able to look into his eyes after all that and smile.

You were his and Blade would be damned if he allowed anyone to encroach on you, regardless of their intentions. You weren’t to be taken from him for he’s already been through a lot and you weren’t going to be another name amongst the lost.

Boothill:

‘What’s this? Finally come to confess to me have you?’ He’d tease but would be genuinely surprised when he opens the note and finds that it actually is a confession note.

His crush? Liking him back? Bullshit!

He may act confident and self assured but he was in heavily in denial to begin with, but the more he re-read the note, he could tell that you were being serious. Which was a drastic change from your typically shy and anxious demeanour.

He even had to pinch the skin of his face to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming this up and that you were genuinely in love with him.

Sad he knows, but would you really be willing to date a man who wouldn’t be able to feel you expect from his face? Yeah he didn’t think so.

And yet you’ve proven him wrong by writing him a love letter confessing how you didn’t care about that, and how you loved him regardless if he could feel you or not. He was still someone you cared for deeply at the end of the day, never less someone you happened to find attractive. You weren’t shallow and Boothill knows this.

Not only that but he was genuinely scared that his best wasn’t going to be enough for you, sweet, kind, caring you…However Boothill recognises that hesitating and fearing the what ifs weren’t going to help him in wining your heart true and proper.

[reiderwriter]

Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You🃏

Chapter 1 of That's What You Get

Next Chapter

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: After three weeks on a case in Vegas and a particularly draining phone call from your mother, you decide to take Reid up on his offer to show you the sights of Las Vegas. When you wake up the next morning, you realise one of those sights was a 24hour Wedding Parlor, and that you're now Mrs. Reid.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, loss of memory, marriage (yeah that needs a warning), mommy issues, mentions of emotional abuse, implied sex scene, use of handcuffs in a sexual way, they theorize a possible creampie but I will neither confirm nor deny at this point, talk of contraception, no actual smut though, you guys are gonna have to wait for that. 18+ Minors DNI

A/N: The first chapter is here! Sorry for drawing you in with a silly little premise and then giving you mommy issues, I swear that after this chapter it's not bought up all that much. If you enjoy this chapter, you can sign up to the series taglist here, check out my masterlist and if you want leave a request! :D have fun reading!! ✨

Las Vegas, city of sin and entertainment capital of the world. Population approximately 600,000, home to the most famous casinos in the world, and unluckily for you, your latest unsub.

You’d been in Vegas for three weeks trying to hunt down this specific murderer, but now the case was all wrapped up and you could finally breathe, the weight of the stress you’d been carrying for almost a month now dissolving as you finally finished up the paperwork in the local precinct.

“Thank god that’s over. I cannot wait to be in bed with a good book and an empty head,” you groaned as you met the eyes of Penelope Garcia, your favorite tech analyst in the entire world and absolutely the only one you knew. She’d ended up having to join you on this case because some of the crime scenes just happened to be casinos that weren’t so happy sharing their data, but also didn’t want to be lumped with the warrant from the FBI. She’d been working between their offices and the precinct, and looked just as haggard as you felt.

“Oh, I feel you sister, this free travel experience thing is nice, but I would like to be back at my own perfect little desk hovel ASAP, thank you very much.” The two of you shared a small laugh, and then began collecting your stuff.

“Come on now, baby girl, you’re telling me that you don’t want to hit up the strip while we’re here? See the sights a little?”

“Sweet cheeks, I have been working from the most harrowing of surveillance units all week on that very strip. I have already seen the sights and they were not pretty, and definitely not worth using up my precious vacation time for.”

“Unfortunately Garcia, I don’t think you’ll be needing to use any of that vacation time to stay here,” Hotch announced as he walked in, and every member of your team snapped to attention to hear what he had to say. “I just got off the phone with Quantico, there’s a storm cloud moving in directly in our flight path and we haven’t been cleared for take off. They’re extending our stay by another day.”

“Shit,” you let out a silent curse, and noticed that your other team members didn’t seem all that happy about it either. JJ quickly excused herself from the room to call Will, Garcia let out a faux sob and fell back into her chair, and Rossi had the look of abject Italian disappointment on his face that he usually only got when you talked about your love of pineapple on pizza.

“How’s about that drink now, baby girl?” Derek Morgan teased, but it was half-hearted and you knew it. You were all desperate for bed, and you could only imagine the mistakes you would make if you went drinking now after the month you’d all just survived.

The only member of the team who didn’t seem put out quite yet was Reid, but you chalked that up to the fact that this place was his hometown.

“If you guys do change your mind, I know a bar downtown where you’re 34% less likely to be propositioned, robbed or over-charged.” He smiled over at you, and you couldn’t help but let out a giggle knowing the man was 100% serious.

“Dare I ask how you found that statistic, Reid?” Emily inquired from the other corner.

“One part actually reading the annual crime report, one part personal experience?” Reid replied, and you laughed again, unable to hold it back.

“Count me out, thank you,” you replied, and you could have sworn for a second you saw a flash of disappointment flash over his features, but you didn’t get the chance to question it, because a call was lighting up your phone screen.

You quickly excused yourself and moved to pick up the call from your mother.

“Mom, hey, what’s up?”

“What, I can’t check in on my daughter now for no reason?” you sighed and rubbed your temples, knowing exactly how this phone call was going to go, because it was how the last ten calls home had.

“Yes, mom, of course you can. How are you?”

“Terrible. Cindy’s daughter is getting married, and it’s all she’s talking about now. Can you believe it? The girl was absolutely wild when you were friends with her in high school and now she’s settling down with a lawyer of all people. Someone should warn that young man before he realises what he’s got himself into,” she scoffed on the other end of the line and you did your best to not get worked up. If you got angry it only made her more self-richeous.

“I know, Mom, Jessica sent me an invite, and I’m sure Trevor knows exactly what he’s getting into since they’ve been dating since high school.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that? You never tell me anything.”

“I’m sorry, Mom, I’m in the middle of a case right now, can I call you back later?” You did your best to escape the conversation before it devolved into something you really didn’t want to talk about, like yourself, and more specifically your love life. But the gorgon had you frozen through the line and you weren’t about to make the mistake of hanging up on her.

“I’m sure your boss could spare you for five minutes, over-working you like he does. You haven’t had the time off to come and visit me since you got that fancy little job of yours, so you can do me this favor at least.”

“Sure, mom.” At times like this, you knew it was best to just let her talk and ride out the wave.

“And I’m sure you don’t even have time to date. Are you taking care of yourself, at least? Making sure you’re at least presentable, I hope? Its like I always say, you could meet your future husband in one of those precincts, you know. Get a big, strong man to take care of you.”

You had to resist the urge to throw your phone. You’d explained to your mother time and time again that you were perfectly content being the big, strong man for yourself, but there was absolutely no getting through to her. You received one of these phone calls everytime one of her friends or coworkers kids announced an engagement, got pregnant or bought a house, three things that she was desperate for you to do, as well. As soon as you saw the instagram post from Jessica you’d been counting down the days, almost thankful for your mothers lack of online presence.

“A crime scene isn’t exactly the most charming of meet cutes, Mom.”

“Well, then what about Virginia? There are some fine men working at the FBI surely. What about that one coworker of yours, what was his name?” Your heart-race increased for a moment, praying she wasn’t about to put a thought in your head that you wouldn’t be able to escape.

“Derek Morgan, was it? Now, that’s a fine young man.” This time you couldn’t stop the startled cry that came from your mouth. Sure, Morgan was an incredibly attractive man, but he’d joked around with you like a brother ever since you’d taken down your first unsub with the team. Your team was your family and your support system on the road, and they had your back on the case, so really, had your mother said anything, you’d have responded with incredulous guffawing. Hotch was like your dad, Rossi a fun Great-Uncle or something. You saw the sister’s you’d never had in JJ and Emily and of course Garcia was your best friend and you shared so many likes and dislikes that you regularly joked about being long-lost twins separated at birth. And Reid was Reid.

“Just give dating some thought, would you at least? The clock is ticking for you, you know.”

“Mom, I’m not even thirty yet. I’m in no rush.”

“That's what your Aunt Linda said, and look at her.” Your Aunt Linda was a perfectly content single woman in her late forties who had a high paying executive job, in NYC of all places, so yeah, you were in no rush at all.

“Listen, Mom, I’ve got to go, Hotch is calling me into the office to talk about some case files. I’ll speak to you later?”

“God, it’s like you don’t even want to talk to your mother for even five minutes. Go on, then, go do your big fancy job. Call me soon.”

“Yeah, Mom, I will.” And with that you finally hung up. Running a hand through your hair you paused for a breath for a second, closing your eyes and letting your hand just grip your hair for a second before releasing your breath for a second.

In the grand scheme of things, you knew that your mom wasn’t all that much to complain about. You and Emily had bonded over your respective mommy issues early in your time on the team, and you knew a lot of the other team members were either lacking some family member or the other, so you were just thankful that she was still around to annoy you, but god did she make it difficult sometimes.

Realising that any second, you’d have one profiler or the other come find you and ask you (with the best of intentions) what was wrong, you plastered a smile on your face and walked back into the office. You didn’t exactly want to relive that call anytime soon.

“Back so soon, Y/N? I thought that was your mom,” Morgan questioned you when you stepped back in.

“Yeah it was. One of my friends from highschool is getting married and you know how she loves to gossip.” You’d learnt early in the profession that you were in that the best way to hide something was to tell the truth about it for as long as you could, and then change the subject.

“Hey, Reid, you still up for a drink at that bar?” You looked hopefully at the man in the corner, and prayed noone would bring up your absolute change in attitude. “I was thinking a glass of wine or two after a successfully closed case couldn’t hurt, right?”

“Yeah, sure. You wanna head back to the hotel first and change, or do you want to go from here? Hotch said we’re free now until 2pm tomorrow.” You could see a questioning look from Morgan to your left, but you kept your vision focused on Reid, quietly thankful for the rest of the teams disinterest.

“Give me five to drop off my badge and gun in my room and freshen up a bit and we can be on our way. If this bar is bad though, Reid, you know I’m never letting you hear the end of it, right?”

“I ran the statistics, there’s only a 14% chance you’ll dislike it.”

“You know what’s scary is, I can’t even tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

–x–

Sarcasm or no, you had to admit, the bar he’d taken you to was pretty nice. It was a low-lit bar only a twenty minute taxi ride from your hotel and whilst it wasn’t exactly on the strip, it wasn’t so far out to be inconvenient. The best part about it was that it was lined with bookshelves, and each booth was blocked off by another, making it feel more like a library than a watering hole. You almost forgot you were in Vegas when you stepped in.

“Yeah, this is definitely a Spencer Reid place,” you said as you took the final swig of your wine, the glass you’d ordered on arrival having gone down easier than you’d expected.

“How so?” Spencer said as he returned to your table, carrying the replacement drinks he’d gone to order with him.

“Come on, Spencer. I’ve never seen the inside of your apartment but I’m sure it’s just this place with less furniture and more books.”

“Y/L/N, are you profiling me right now? Because that sounds pretty close to profiling?” Spencer teased and you rolled your eyes at him, grabbing your next drink from him and giving it a stir - the wine was good but at the price per glass you’d decided maybe cocktails were the thing for tonight.

“Besides, you did mention wanting to curl up with a book tonight, so I thought this bar was probably a good fit for you too.”

“Whose profiling who now, Doctor?” It was his turn to roll his eyes, and he took a sip of his drink. You knew he didn’t drink that often, but he seemed pretty open to the idea tonight, and you were absolutely glad for the company.

“Okay, I won’t profile if you don’t, but do you mind me asking you a question, Y/N?”

“Fire away,” you were playing with the stirrer in your cocktail, waiting for him to ask the question but he’d hesitated for a moment before speaking again, causing you to look up directly into his eyes.

“What’s going on with you and your mom? I don’t mean to pry and I didn’t overhear any of your call earlier or anything, but when you came in again you were all tense and you had that strained smile on your face. Then you suddenly changed your mind and decided we should get drinks so, I’m just guessing here, but you could probably do with talking about it, right?”

You let out a groan and let your head hang a bit. Yeah, you were starting to regret taking that role in the team of profilers. But at least Reid was sincere, and you knew his intentions were good. Of all the members of the team, you’d probably have described him as the safest. It was strange to think, considering all the comfort you found in your other friends, but there was just something so reassuring about Reid’s presence, the way most people overlooked him at first, how he could easily fall into his work and how you could see the cogs moving in his head as he made one genius leap to another that just made you think that everything was going to be okay if he was there.

So because it was him, you decided to talk.

“She’s just…She’s just a little much sometimes, you know?” He smiled back a knowing smile, but didn’t try to add anything and encouraged you to keep going.

“She’s been really persistent recently in bothering me about hitting some of lifes big milestones - marriage, kids, you know? And it always leaves me in a panic because though I’m pretty sure I want those things just yet, I don’t want the pressure of having them yet.” You swallowed the bile in your thoat and continued

“Everytime she says something, I feel bad that I don’t have them. And the way she talks about them its like they’re some kind of… of personal failure, that I’m not trying hard enough to catch a man or something, and I just wonder what if she’s right?” You start slow but you feel yourself gaining pace as you begin rambling, by the end you’re left wondering if Reid even caught any of that.

“I’m perfectly content living alone, but what if I’m secretly not, and I end up forty and alone and can’t even get a guy to look at me.”

“I can pretty confidently say that that’s not going to happen, Y/N.” Reid replied when you finally grabbed your drink ready to take another sip.

“How come?”

“You won’t have to put any effort into catching a man, Y/N.” Reid replied.

“You’re saying that because you’re my friend and you care about me Reid, of course you think that.”

“No, I’m saying that as an FBI Profiler that’s noticed the barman, the man on a date in the corner and the group of guys smoking outside the door eye you up since we’ve been here. And considering we’ve been doing paperwork all day, and the only change in your appearance since 8am this morning was the fresh coat of chapstick you put on while we were in the taxi, I’d think you hadn’t really put that much thought into what you look like right now.”

“You’re exaggerating,” and you really believe that, until you turn to look at the guy on the date and see him avert his gaze from you quickly, and you realise there might be something in what he’s saying.

“Okay, but that still doesn’t mean that I need or want to hear those things from my mother.”

“Y/N, take it from me, mother’s can be complicated.”

“God, I feel so stupid talking to you about something so trivial with my mom, I shouldn’t be doing that, we’re here to have fun.”

“Y/N, its okay. I can do the mommy issues talks, I’m perfectly qualified, but…” he trails off and grabs his drink for another sip and you find yourself hanging off his words begging for him to bring you more comfort and spoken caresses.

“But what, Reid?” you finally ask, as you realise he’s dragging this out on purpose to tease you a little.

“But how about a distraction instead? Have you ever been in a Las Vegas casino with a man that is banned from gambling in most of them?” He wiggled his eyebrows a little as he asked that and you giggled again, grateful for the reprieve from the serious talk.

“That doesn’t sound all that fun, Spencer.”

“Oh yeah, it’s not, but we could always use those vouchers we got as a token of appreciation earlier in the bars and drink some pretty fancy alcohol?”

“Spencer Reid, you are finally speaking my language.”

“I’m still speaking English Y/N, but if you wanted me to switch to russian or some other language, I could accommodate that depending on your linguistic preference.”

“It was a joke, Spence, now let’s get out of here.”

With that, he stood and dramatically offered you his hand like a gentleman, placing your hand in the crook of his elbow when you took it and guiding you swiftly out of the sweet bar. You were with Spencer, your safe friend, close work colleague and probably the least likely member of the BAU Team to get into trouble in a bar in Vegas. What’s the worst that could happen? You thought, as you took a final step out into the humid night air of Las Vegas.

–X–

The first thing you noticed in the morning was the pounding in your head, and it was pretty much the only thing you noticed for quite some time. When you managed to finally unglue your eyes, the second thing you noticed that this definitely wasn’t your room. The third thing you noticed was the gaping hole in your memories that explained how you possibly could’ve ended up wherever it was that you were. Or really any memories from the night before at all.

Letting out a quick groan you sit up in bed and take stock of your surroundings. Although the layout is different, you quickly recognise the interior matches the hotel you’ve been staying at, so you’re thankful that you’re at least somewhere relatively safe, and most likely in familiar company. The room looks to be neat on the whole, but there’s obvious signs of a drunken escapade strewn everwhere - two champagne flutes and a drained bottle, the contents of your purse spilt onto the chair in the corner, some random balloons in the corner you must have picked up somewhere in a drunken stupor, your clothes discarded in a trail to the bed.

That last one wakes you up a little bit more, and almost embarrassingly, you look down at yourself and see your lack of clothing, pulling the covers of the quilt closer to you as you feel yourself flush.

Fuck.

There’s a shifting in the bed next to you, and you look down in horror to see exactly which member of your team got you so plastered last night. You try to move to see who it is, but theres a tightness around your wrist and you’re pulled right back down into bed. You look down at your arm, and that’s when you realise you’re really screwed.

There, around your wrist and restraining you against the bed, is a set of handcuffs. FBI standard. The insinuation flames your face as you whip around to see which close friend and coworker you maybe - possibly - hooked up with last night, too embarrassed to look at your hand any more.

Luckily, your mystery man shifts again, and you catch sight of the nest of brown curls right before he turns over to see you, so when you finally meet the eye of Doctor Spencer Reid, you don’t scream in surprise.

“Y/N? What are you doi-” he cuts himself off as he lets his eyes trail down your body, quickly noticing your state of undress and pulling himself up into a seated position. He is similarly disrobed and it takes all of your strength to pull your gaze away from his bare chest to look literally anywhere else, your face practically flaming now.

“Spencer, would you mind helping me out over here?” you manage to squeak out quickly, as he does his best to avoid your eyes. “I seem to be a little stuck?”

That draws his attention back to you, and he finally notices the strange position of your arms and the handcuffs keeping you pinned to that spot in the bed.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry, fuck,” he quickly pulls on the pants he discarded by his side of the bed and scrambles over to you, tripping over once in his haste.

“Do you know where the key is?” you ask as he arrives at your side again, your free hand clutching the sheets over your breasts like your life depended on it.

“If that’s my pair they should be in the safe in the nightstand with my creds, give me a second to look.” After a second, he reaches the aforementioned safe box, pulling it open. He roots around inside it for a few seconds and then he spots something ad you watch the blood drain from his face.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?” you spit out quickly, tongue still heavy, and lips probably still swollen, from the night before, so you trip over the words a little. He pulls out the keys from the draw, and you let out a sigh of relief, but you’re still tense as he reaches back inside the draw and pulls out something else.

“Y/N, there wouldn’t happen to be a ring on that hand would there?” Spencer still isn’t looking at you, still staring intently at whatever else is in his hands. You try to angle your head to look, but between the restraints and the fact that Reid had turned his back to you couldn’t quite see what it was.

“What? No, I don’t wear a ring on this hand-” you cut yourself off abruptly as you look down and see it. There on the fourth finger of your left hand, the one that is still chained to the bed by your partners handcuffs, is a ring. There’s a ring on your ring finger. You just woke up in Las Vegas with no memory, in your coworkers room, naked, with a ring on your ring finger.

Your heart drops to your ass as you snap your head back around to Spencer, who finally works up the courage to look you in the eye.

“I think you should look at this” he stutters out and finally presents you with the other item he pulled out of the draw. Your jaw drops open and the pounding in your head turns into a continuous buzzing as you see yourself presented with a marriage liscence. Pinned to the corner with a paperclip is a polaroid picture, and you recognise yourself and your clothes from the night before, with the addition of a veil and bouquet, your arms slung around Reid’s neck as he pulls you in for what you can assume was a pretty passionate kiss.

“Y/N I think we got married last night.”

For a second you could’ve sworn your heart stopped. This was not happening, not to you, not right now. How stupidly drunk could you have gotten to have actually gone and married someone you weren’t even dating. And considering your current lack of clothing, it was dawning on you that you had probably done a little bit more than what was in that photo.

“Spencer unlock these handcuffs right now, so help me God,” you breathed deep and screwed your eyes shut, hoping that wihtout the distraction of the glaring lights you’d be able to remember some of what you’d done last night, but nothing came to you.

Reid, for what it was worth, got you unlocked quickly. You winced slightly as you pulled your arm away from the position it’d been in for however many hours.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have undone those last night, I don’t know why I didn’t, I’m usually pretty good at remembering stuff like that.” Reid rambled, running a hand through his hair and pacing slightly at your side of the bed. You pushed yourself up and watched him for a minute, just looking at this man who was now, probably, your husband.

Your husband.

You shook the thought from your head and cut his rambling off quickly.

“You put me in these?” you asked, just desperate for any clarification on any of the events of the last 24 hours, not fully grasping the implications of what you were asking until Reid was looking down at you with a flushed face and a mouth gaping like a fish, struggling to find the words to say.

“This is my hotel room. Those are my handcuffs… I kind of just assumed…” he trailed off the thought and you were right with him, the embarrassment heating your face just as much as it had his. You found it hard to meet his eyes the, and dropped yours to your lap.

“So you don’t remember, either?” You almost sighed in relief at that. If even a genius with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory was in this state after a night of drinking, then you really couldn’t be blamed for getting so drunk you married your coworker and most likely had some pretty kinky sex with him, remembering absolutely nothing on top of that at all.

“Do you need me to grab you something to wear?” he asked as he looked down at you, letting his gaze trail probably a little bit too low for a little bit too long. You grew heated under his stare, as your body reacted, and you realised how easy it must have been to fall underneath him last night if this was how you were feeling from just one look.

But you pulled yourself out of those thoughts quickly, and it seemed that so did he, as he began grabbing clothes from the floor and handing them to you, turning away as you started getting yourself into a semi-decent state.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you heard Reid mumble to himself as he made his way around the side of the bed, and in your concern for him, you called out.

“Anything specific those curses were for, Spence? Because I know this isn’t exactly the most ideal situation, but four Spencer Reid swears in a row is a cause for concern.” You tried to joke, hoping to relieve some of the anxiety of your predicament.

“I can’t find…” he started and then dragged a hand over his face, trying to wipe the exhaustion from his eyes. “Y/N, I think we didn’t use protection.” You could see him panicking now, and for a second you thought of joining him too, but you crossed the room and grabbed his arms.

“Spencer, look at me, it’s fine. If we did end up… doing that, I’m on birth control, and we probably have time to grab something extra just to make sure, right?” he looked down at you then and after a moments hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry about all of this, I’m so stupid for suggesting we go to that casino bar last night, I don’t know what I was thinking. You even said last night that this wasn’t what you wanted for yourself, right now, god I’m an idiot, you don’t deserve this.” He buried his face in your neck and held you tight, and you pulled yours up to his back, rubbing circles into his skin slowly.

“Spencer, listen to me. I can think of noone I would have rather had a shotgun Vegas marriage with, okay? This isn’t your fault, we were both drunk, and I’m sure a Reid who was thinking straight could give me some kind of statistic about inhibitions dropping with a certain amount of alcohol.”

“A study in the United Kingdom found that there was an increase of risky sexual behavior in young people who had participated in binge drinking, including unprotected sex with a new partner and the use of emergency contraceptives and I’m not sure why I’m still talking when that was probably rhetorical, right?” You smiled at his panic, finding him just as endearing as ever, even in this predicament.

“What I’m saying, Spencer, is that we’re going to be okay. This isn’t the first time someone has gotten married in Vegas on a whim. Hell, this isn’t even the first time it’s happened to someone on our team. In a sense, this was a very traditional wedding.”

He groaned into your neck again and you laughed up at him. Sure, you were panicked still, but just having him in your arms there sharing his honest feelings with you instead of bottling it up and leaving you to deal with it on your own in your head too was doing you a world of good, and you found the words you used to reassure him soothing you, too, in turn.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. One, find the nearest pharmacy. Two, find whatever Elvis-inspired love shack wrote that marriage license and figure out if it’s actually legally binding. Three, avoid all of our coworkers until 2pm. How does that sound?”

Reid pulled himself out of your neck then, and you were almost sad at the loss of that warmth near you.

“It sounds like I made the smartest choice of a wife I was ever going to make,” he smiled down at you.

“Oh you got jokes now, Doc? I see.”

“Thought I should let you know all my deep dark secrets now we’re married.” You shared a laugh, and standing there amongst the debris of the night before, despite all the mistakes, you knew you were safe, and that the two of you would always be safe together.

🏷️ @sailortongue @bethanyhaas01 @reidscaffeine @high-functioning-cosplayer @average-sunflower @multifandom-on-the-side @anniewhalelover @prentissesredtanktop @abbyshmaby @academiareid @hugyourlungs @w-windy @babybluecakes @SwaggySagieWagie@reidandhotchsgirl @lover-of-books-and-tea @star0055 @Zaapsite @daddy-dotcom @bluecandycake

[salchat]

Today I decided I was going to do whatever the hell I liked, because it's chemo day tomorrow (again). But then I ended up doing lots of useful stuff. Huh. So I needed a reward, and drawing this cute little Dean seemed like a great reward!

I decided to use my neocolor crayons. They look like Crayola, but they're a bit bigger and much softer.

They blend and layer really well and they're also water-soluble, but I didn't use that feature here. They don't erase, obviously, although once you've got a few layers on the paper, you can scratch them off with a knife. Anyway, erasing isn't an issue, usually - you just go over the top. So you don't have to get all over-careful and 'Oh, no! What if I go wrong!'

Here's my rough first stage:

I chose the blue at random, out of my little tub of lots of colours. Not that I haven't looked at colour theory - I have. But I prefer to go with a childlike, 'ooh, pretty colour!' approach.

Here's stage two:

I put some shadows in and attempted to get his mouth in the right place. Dean’s mouth is always the hardest bit!

Next:

I find if I go over the whole lot in a flesh colour I can get more of a sense of what's working and what's not. I used a salmon pink, but any of the pale pinks would have done.

It's getting there, isn’t it? Looking a bit more Dean-like. His mouth still needs a lot of work. Typical...

So, yes, there's way too much highlighting around his mouth, but I've got the shape and position better. And his eyes are looking reasonable.

Oh. Whoops. Sorry! I got a bit carried away and forgot to do more progress shots!

Anyway, here he is, corrected as far as I can so you can see the actual colours. The paper's a lovely rich orange and the dark blue is juicy and bright and luminous.

I'm pretty pleased with him. In fact I love him. (Even though I can tell his eyes are just the tiniest bit squinty for some reason - probably because I didn't actually do the boring measuring-of-proportions stage that I really should definitely do, but don't because it's boring. Silly me.) I used the tiniest bit of white Sennelier oil pastel for the highlights. And if you're drawing in crayon or oil pastel, but can't afford Sennelier (which are stupidly expensive), just buy the white. It's well worth it.

Here's a close-up:

I might put him on my Redbubble, ArtBySalchat, if I remember.

Happy arting, fan artists!

[suashii]

— 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝑜 𝒷𝒶𝒹 ౨ৎ

miya atsumu x reader. 715 wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ mentions of injury ﾉ repost!

“is sitting in front of the tv your only plan for the next six weeks?” you ask atsumu as you hand him a plate. the sandwich you made him from lunch is far from gourmet, but he sends you a weak smile in appreciation anyway.

“can’t do much else,” he answers before taking a bite of his food.

“that’s fair.” you plop down on the couch beside him. the cast wrapped around his ankle is keeping his movement pretty limited. “but are you going to spend all your recovery time watching volleyball? seems like it’s just rubbing salt into the wound.”

if someone asked you to describe atsumu in limited words, your first thought would be “career-driven”—so much so that he was willing to ignore the growing pain in his ankle until it was too late to prevent further injury. all it took was one miscalculated landing for him to end up in the hospital and off the court. now that he’s confined to the house, there is a notable difference in his demeanor, the air about him. 

“gotta stay sharp,” he mumbles through the food in his mouth, “i can’t play or practice so this is the next best thing.”

you’ve always admired his work ethic, but his unwillingness to relax every once in a while concerns you. even when he’s being forced to take a step back from his job, his mind still finds a way to circle back to work. you never want to see him hurt, out of the game, but you’re glad that he’s finally physically resting.

“i know it sucks, but maybe you really needed this break. even if you didn’t, at the very least, it’s a reminder to be more careful and listen to your body.” you give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “i’m sure it’ll feel like no time before you’re back in action.”

the blonde hums in acknowledgment, though, it’s clear that your words do little to console him. the thought of having him home more often leaves you happy despite the circumstances, but is it really worth it if you’re in the presence of only a shell of the man you fell in love with?

your mind wanders to thoughts of how to cheer atsumu up while you wash the dishes from lunch. by the time you’re finished, you’ve come up with an idea that is a sure way to pull your boyfriend out of his slump.

you return to the living room with a pouch of stationery supplies and take a seat on the floor near atsumu’s propped leg. he glances down at you, curiosity sparkling in his dark eyes as you uncap one of the colorful sharpies.

“what are you doing?” he questions. looks like something other than volleyball has captured his attention.

“what’s it look like? i’m decorating your cast.”

atsumu huffs out a laugh and shakes his head but his gaze stayed glued to your carefully moving hand as it drags the ink across the cast. he bites his cheek to hold back a laugh at your tongue poking out from between your lips. he can’t quite tell what you’re drawing, but he can confidently say that you’re laser-focused on it.

“all done!” you proudly announce, tossing the pen off to the side. simple doodles and phrases like “world’s best boyfriend” and “japan’s #1 setter” are scattered about the cast encasing the lower half of his leg. you might be biased, but it doesn’t look half bad. “what do you think?”

your act is a childish sentiment, but you can’t help but hope the silly gesture is enough to bring the setter some much needed joy.

atsumu smiles—the first genuine smile he’s worn since receiving the news that he wouldn’t be able to play for the rest of the season. while he’d much rather be busy at work than restricted to his couch and bed, he has to admit that being able to spend some time with you is the best of this otherwise unfavorable situation. he figures that you had picked up on the shift in his mood and were attempting to lift his spirits. how could he not love it? “looks great. way better than plain white.”

and you smile, too. because when atsumu is happy, you’re happy.

thanks for giving this a read! consider reblogging if u enjoyed :3

[fishtrouts]

I'm noticing something interesting about Swordfish, and what I noticed seems to tie into the recent lore you've revealed about Avoryx and what she believes Hopper is going to end up doing someday. (The whole eating all her friends and terrorizing the countryside thing.)

It seems plain to me that Swordfish doesn't value material things, and instead is fascinated with the living, breathing creatures of the world. Hopper contrasts by loving all things associated with being a 'true' dragon such as material wealth and magical artifacts. All I've done thus far is state the obvious, but here's my actual point:

Could Swordfish's destiny be to right the wrong that is Avoryx's legacy of avarice, murder, and cruelty, by showing Hopper (even if Swordfish's curiosity and interest in the smaller, ordinary fauna of the world is childish now and not rooted in any kind of 'personal philosophy') that there are things to value other than hoarding inert trinkets, that the little wonders of living are worth cherishing and guarding too?

WOW!!! I very much enjoyed reading this analysis! It's such a joy when my silly comics invoke deeper thoughts and theories like this. Both Swordfish and Hopper are a part of me and my experiences, so many of their adventures are directly or indirectly inspired from my life. And many times I don't realize these parallels myself. Sometimes I just draw and write what I subconsciously know, but don't acknowledge to myself out loud. How parents, siblings, friends can affect you, shape your future etc. How every generation is hopefully better than the last. Your take is absolutely correct in that Swordfish's influence could change Hopper's future, but in the end it's Hopper who makes the choices. She admires her mother so much that she might be blinded to paths other than the traditional dragon tyranny.

But they're just hatchlings atm, so nobody knows what the future holds :P

[bangsinc]

Can i request a spot x reader Who likes to draw him and lets him stay in their house.

Also you are life saver since you are the only one who is writing spot headcannons ♡

✏️Spot and an artist reader who lets him crash!(Hcs/Drabble)🗯️

I’m so sorry I couldn’t think of something silly for a title.. BUT TYSM FOR THE COMPLIMENT! I rly wanna give him love since nobody is rn! He’s so pookie

No warnings, just fluff. Mutual pining! Yay!

For the majority of the past couple years, Spots been an outcast to society, someone who wouldn’t be welcome anymore no matter what he did or how he hid. A job, something that could have saved him, wasn’t feesable anymore, and he couldn’t find anyplace to live.. that is, until there was you.

You were a complete godsend to this.. creature. A place to stay was more than what he could ask for. He didn’t need to eat, or do much anymore, but he still wanted a sence of community.

He could never repay you, never. The only person that’s ever been kind to him is letting him stay for.. nothing in return. As a way to return the sentiment and ease the overbearing guilt he feels that someone (as amazing and beautiful as you) let him into their home with open arms, he steals things.

Expect little trinkets! Oh? You like video games? That’s crazy because he just came across this one copy of..

He doesn’t crash persay, he lives. He craves the affection and love, so it’s difficult for him to not spend every night in your home. It’s warm, cozy, and best of all you don’t seem to care for what he looks like.

And like.. yknow, maybe you guys cuddle sometimes.

As for your hobby of drawing him, he would consider it the highest honor. You see him as something worth replicating on pen and paper? You want to show it to others too?? Congratulations, you just earned yourself a free model.

Gushes over your work, maybe keeps some of it for himself. Oh, he’s crushing hard. Maybe he’ll even try to draw you! Don’t expect anything.. good though. He was a scientist! Not an artist! But.. it would mean a lot to him if you kept what he gave you. It’s the least you could do, make him a happy little guy.

He may not be expressive, but you can almost see the flattery oozing from him as he eyes your work with the upmost curiosity. You’re so talented!

Little Drabble!

The lights of your bedroom, dim and gentle, reflect upon his pale face. He looks around curiously, his expression as it usually is, unreadable. He looks at you for a moment, the hole on his face narrowing in almost panic.

“T—thanks for letting me stay agai—look, I can’t really repay you or-“ He mumbles, rocking back and fourth on his feet nervously.

Your expression wracked him. The kind, empathetic smile on your face didn’t wane once, even if you both knew there wasn’t any way he could pay you back. You stay quiet, mainly to find the right words to tell him. With every passing second, doubt knawed at him. This was too good to be true.. this was going to end sooner than he hoped. You were going to tell him to get ou—

“That’s okay, don’t worry about it.” You speak, your voice quiet as to not startle him further. The weight of your words pressed on his shoulders, making it difficult for him to catch his breath.

“Really?” He approaches you swiftly, a sence of hope painted his expression, the brush that was his feelings painting a portrait of never ending gratitude.

“Really.” You repeat his words, arms outstretched, your smile never once waning. He can feel his spotted emotions get the better of him and he’s quick to bring you into a hug, his face digging into the crook of your neck.

[clonefrce99]

Life on its form

Any driver x fem!ooc (only mentioned as she)

WARNINGS: driver dies, there are references to depression (mentions of giving up). HEAVILY ANGST - if you find something else, let me know.

Also there's probably some grammar mistakes here and there.

A/N: it's the saddest thing i've written in a year but I couldn't waste the idea. Hope you enjoy :)

From books to movies, love seems to be this enormous thing that works like missing pieces from a puzzle.

Love is supposed to fulfill the empty spaces.

And is very common to hear people say: “It takes effort, and sometimes it’s tiring. But it’s worth it.”

So, during every single relationship, she tried. She tried her best to make it work – because that’s what it takes, right? To some she was loud, to others she was more of an introverted. Fun but not funny, you know? At one point, to one of her partners, she was just enough. She never got too angry or too sad or too happy.

Her partner loved when their friends talked about her. About how good she was, how they wished their own partners were like that. She never complained when he went out with his buddies, wasn't jealous when he got too close to another woman. She was a good girl. His good girl.

It was tiring. But… love requires that. You need to give to receive. And they were good. They were also enough to her. Even when they got mad, like mad-mad, everything was just fine.

For four whole months, they had planned this trip to enjoy the always so beautiful and fun European summer. When the day arrived, they simply said she should go alone, that they weren't on the mood and would be a terrible company. And, on top of all that, they said:

"You should go alone, make friends. It's gonna be good for you. For us, you know? To be apart."

Great. She thought. That clearly meant the relationship wasn't on its best moment. Ups and downs (even though it was more downs than ups). That’s what relationships are made of. No need to think any deeper.

So was right there, on that small country on the northen coast of the Mediterranean Sea, that she learned that love is actually simple and effortless. It comes, stays and requires nothing.

He taught her that. All he wanted from her was sweet nothing.

What was supposed to be a four week trip, became two months. And then three. Between somewhere here and there, she texted her now ex to let them know she wasn't coming back.

All her friends and family thought she had lost it. Who ends a three years relationship because of some random person they just met? They truly thought she had gone mad (to which she responded: yes! Madly in love!).

Was after a great night where they lived, laughed and loved, that he told her he was a Formula 1 driver. She imediatly wanted to cry. Not because of fear of everything being too much, or because he started to ramble about his plans with his ever so excited smile.

She cried because, for the first time in a long time, she felt safe. It didn't matter what would happen, if he was famous, if she would need to deal with all types of people.

He had her. She had him. Nothing else mattered.

When they had to leave the little world they had created during those months and go back to reality, all they felt was deep and raw love.

And then the months became a year. Then a year and a half. And then two years. And then they were living together. What started with a small space on his drawer, became a full section on his closet.

When routine started to catch up, during times where her work demanded more and so did his, with more and more races being add to the calendar, they decided to create a sort of system. Something silly. Something them.

They downloaded some apps for couples, so when they couldn't be together, they could still do things together. Their favourite was one where they could draw. Also, at the end of each day, they would write down to each other those detailed text messages talking about all things.

He also started to leave notes on the pockets of her clothing before leaving. Sometimes he would write poetry, something to make her laugh, or some sort of reminder of how much he loved her. He also loved to leave things with the notes: small gifts, from jewelry to chocolate.

No matter what happened, she knew it would always have something.

But it’s been three months since his accident. Three months she hadn’t found a note, the drawing app widget is nothing more than a white empty board and there is no more detailed messages.

She hadn’t attended the race that weekend, having too much work to do. They did made plans for going to this fancy restaurant he always wanted to try, though. Such a shame they never made it.

Would be a lie to say she remembers much from the days after the news. Actually, she barely remember the day itself. She knows she was the first to get to the hospital, that she was the one to call the family (both hers and his), and then talk with the team.

Some said they were sorry, some tried to find something to blame trying hard to sooth the situation.

But that was life on its form.

Even if it had someone or something to blame, what difference would make? He wasn’t coming back. She wouldn’t hear his laugh anymore, or his tantrums, or his rambling. She would never see again the way he used to lean against every surface he could, or how bad he was at hiding his emotions.

She would never touch him again.

And grief it’s different to every person. There’s no right or wrong way to feel it – as her therapist said. People feel what they feel when they feel and there's nothing you can do to change that.

She accepted easily, better than she thought she would, at least. She did got depressed on the first days, of course, but she kept on going. Always foward.

For first week of her work vacation, she went to her family house. No one dared to say anything. She was laughing, going out with old friends - what was surprising, considering they were sure she would give up.

But that's something she could never do.

She does have something to live for. The memories of every single moment they had together, good or bad, are worth living for.

Now it's been two days since she came back. The apartment is so quiet she allows herself to wonder why she didn't cried yet. From the balcony, she sees the sun making its way towards the line where the sky mets the sea. In a few minutes, it'll also be gone.

She smiles. Once, her therapist asked her "in one word, and just one, describe your love and why"

She answered that their love was just like the ocean. Not because it's unstable or deep, as some people say. She chose the ocean because it's endless and most likely, it won't ever go away. Now thinking better, she should've had chosen waves instead of ocean: always moving, always coming and going but never dissipating completely.

And that’s what their love is: something that will never just go. Now, some days she feels more, some days she feels less. But it’s there.

With this thought, she decides to change her clothes and do something she's been doing her best to avoid: to wear the last cardigan he bought. It was during that week, it came inside of a beautiful box and he had smiled saying, "i have great plans for this one".

Making her way to the small beach in front of their building, she takes a deep breath and fels that stupid feeling again. The one that puts her on the edge of something that never comes no matter how hard she tries. As if there's something waiting right around the corner.

The sky is now a mix of purple, pink and orange. It's beautiful. The wind becomes cold while she just stands there, feeling the sand wrap her feet. The waves crash, coming and going and then coming again.

It's when a bird flies too close to her that she puts her hands on both pockets. A reflex. Something so normal but that means a lot, specially when she feels one of her hands brush against something.

And there it is. She finally went over the edge, finally saw what is around the corner. Her eyes gets watery, she can feel tears falling down her cheeks and sees the wet dots being created on the sand. She laughs. Suddenly life is less heavy.

Her body almost gives in, but she manages to sit properly. With another deep breath, she sees what he left for her.

Two years ago, during a race week on the US, they managed to scape go to Santa Monica. He insisted on going to the photo booth and she hated every single one of the pictures. He told her to chose one to keep, the others could go.

And he carried that one with him everywhere. Either on his wallet or inside of his helmet.

And now the picture is on her hand, wrapped in a small paper. She's sure it was already there when he gave it to her, and when he kissed her goodbye for the last time.

On his crap handwriting, was written: a memory for you to keep until I come back.

Seing the sun finally disappear and the moon rise on the other side, she reliases she created another memory for her to keep on living for.

[inklessletter]

I posted this on X, and I feel kind of disloyal not saying anything in here, since I feel Tumblr as my main online residence.

I would like to expand here, where I feel safest, if you let me.

As I said, I'm not a writer. Not a talented one, at least. Maybe I could be if I work hard enough, but I have little free time and I have to diversify it since I've got plenty going on. I don't have like, the busiest life, but I work full-time and I have a little family, and friends, a dog and a house to keep. And when I'm not doing all of that, among all my personal individual hobbies, drawing is what takes most time.

And drawing--well, I can't draw a fanart without romanticizing the process. There is no fanart without a back story that I've got in my mind, that I always fall in love way too deep with it, and always have the intention to put into words, but English is hard for a non native speaker, and even harder for a impatient perfectionist. So it takes a lot of time and I am never satisfied with the results, which is massively disheartening.

So after more than a year making this fandom my home, and with, idk, twenty, thirty fanarts, that means that there are twenty or thirty stories that I've got safely and preciously stored in my heart that I barely shared with anyone.

I mean full fanfics, from beginning to end, maybe with a few loose strands that needs revisiting, but overall, completed stories. And I know I'm biased here, telling you that I love them, and maybe they're not good, but I do love them. I'm a romantic. Some of them explore the concept of home, or tropes like "the one that got away", or the survivor guilt, or keeping the balance between being who you are and acknowledging that you're wrong and rewiring some things. Some are just funny AUs, fluff or smut (I can't write smut for SHIT), some more basic, some not. Some are not even steddie.

But I love all of them, and I can't write them and they're dying with me.

So I've been thinking for a while, that maybe there is a writer out there that wants something to write but can't find inspiration, or a theme to talk about and if that's de case, and you feel like it, you can DM to me, that I will give you the whole idea, everything that I worked on and pass it on, so you can have an idea to work with.

It feels so silly being so absurdly emotional with this, since, well, it's just stories, I guess, about things and people that don't exist, and maybe they're not even good or worth to work on because it may be better works out there that treat those subjects more brilliantly, but I love them and they're important to me and if I don't do this, they're dying with me and I think that maybe those silly ideas deserve a chance.

So, well, yeah, if you are a fic writer that is looking for something to write about, you can reach me. Maybe we can help each other out.

Thank you for taking the time to read all this nonsense 💖

[lilbeanz]

Hello! NEW FAN HERE! I hope u have a wonderful day, AS WONDERFUL AS YOUR WORK!! Rlly! I LO VE IT! I just founded 4 days ago and I haven’t stop since. Girl were should I star?

First book­­ - SO REFRESHING! A Draco who still behaves like the child he grew up to being and not noticing the social cues? *Chefs kiss* all the book I was like: noooooo pls baby boy! Date cuenta! Not like dat!!

Second book – you telling me that Draco is the possessed now?!! GRL IM ON IT!! Yes! So sad and so good at the same time! The valentine day made me think, IT WOULD make sense for Draco to send the poem, also Pansy! Haha rlly clever of her to make him do that! I scream all the time (like it was happening to me LOL) AND THE FINAL? God! How I hate Lucius! Like “oh really? That's your reaction? LITTLE DRAGON NEEDS A HUG Goddamit!”

Third Book – THIS! This is what I begin to read ur work! THIS IS WHY I PAY MY INTERNET BILL! YES!! Abba? ABBA?!!! I read all the book listening to Voulez Vous! Thank U very much! The trauma with the quills and the ink? And then Hermione gifting stationary? Omg cute! Yule day? I love the time alone with Harry. Now, Chiquitita? CHIQUITITA? I died and revived at the same time, the realization of the FELLINGS? Girl I feel that! and the end? THEY CAPTURE PETTIGREW? YES!!! FINALLY! THAT’S MY CANON! The last dance make me giggle like crazy, so happy :,)

Fourth Book – If the third made me love it, the FOURTH MADE ME WANT TO PROPOSE! I love everything! Tonks family? I was so happy with that! Narcissa choosing his son and begin to live a common life? QUEEN! Homesick feelings were understandable. NOW! ERIK? God, I love him, such a gentleman! Yule ball? 10000/10 from Hermione and Pancy preparation, Draco suit, the canary dance, THE BI PANIC??? Hahaha LOVE EVERYTHING! And the after party? So funny! I loved Dumbledor's reaction with it and the Golden Snitget! Denial Draco is the best! Make me laugh so much (I can relate LOL) AND JEALOUS HARRY?? HAHAHA serves him right! Muajajaj and Veela powers? Hahahaha that’s my other canon. The lasts parts make sad for the fight and the depression (How I hate Harry for that) but at the same time was happy for the outcome Heheheh BI Harry is so funny!

NOW! I BEGIN WITH THE 5TH LIKE… 4 Hours ago LOL, SO FAR! SO GOOD!  I’m in my working hours and all the time I was giggling. Ngl the tags of harassment scared me but if u put a warning I can be prepared. So far, I love all Ch2, the interactions were everything hehe, Kreacher make me laugh, I hope there is an interaction with Walburga's painting too (is not necessary or anything, if there is no one, for me is still an excellent work)

Finally, I really love JDT! please KEEP GOING! U ARE A GREAT WRITER! AND NOTHING TO SAY ABOUT YOUR DRAWINGS OTHER THAN THEY ARE BEAUTIFUL! I was watching them at the same time I was reading. I’m so ready for Ch 5 and more! Do you have any schedule for the uploads? If not is OK, please take your time with them if u need it, bc so far this is a wonderful work and it's worth the wait.

Babes I am a puddle 🥹❤️

This is such a lovely encompassing comment for the series so far! I am SO glad you're enjoying the story hehe. I hope YOU have a wonderful day too💖

The second hand embarrassment in some scenes, especially the Valentine's Fiasco of '93, is so cringy I knowww🫣 (just try and stop me)

Our boy has grown so much 🥲

And Welcome to the cult!!!! Have a mandatory biscuit! 🍪

In this household we enjoy the silly goofy ahh shenanigans ✨️

[some-mari-thoughts]

7) Last evening in Faraway

Hands of time will wring my neck- (Or me being really really poor in time and juice at this point). Melancholy setting in

[Start] | [previous] | [next]

Readmore for observations!!!

Interesting, how Sunny's findings end up having such a different tone to the rest of the gang :< boy really gets no breaks. We don't really get to see how he's feeling, but we still have the shock by the extreme sudden focus on the photo that the game gives.

this moment is a lil silly, I wanted to draw everyone feeling sad x) Kel, sweetheart, I love and cherish you so much x"

The most time consuming one is RIGHT HERE. Active time that went into this one is too much. Pluto was intimidating, but this one ended up a little tiring even - too many reworks.. for my taste at least :D ANYWAY- Title screen 3, worth it 100%. It's INTERESTING, it's unsettling, it gives you a unique feeling of unease that completely contrasts the mood of the last day. Or does it? After all, we don't really look at sunny - the protagonist too much during the day. He is getting up to shenanigans, but we discuss literally everyone else (exception would be maybe the games and the comics - some minor focus on Sunny). That brings me to the idea - maybe the title screens are where Sunny's mind is generally at. We do get the notion that he tends to wander, so it's not off to be focused on his dreamworld and wanting to go back to sleep first couple days, then literally spend time in Black Space, and then to be thrown between reality (scary? fun?) and the nightmare from last night and unease from where he left off (terrifying) Brain worm

The art that I wasn't able to finalize even with the allnighter I pulled for the game finale x"/ I'M SO SAD ABT THIS ONE, I love it a lit but man. Man. Having to leave it for the likely Forever-WIP pile.. The little memories make me feel so much :< Many of the memories we get from Sunny are in the Faraway itself - and locked away in lost library. Though, the ones in the Photo album are, surprisingly, the ones he feels connected to most. maybe because they aren't smudged by years of trauma and denial, but instead miraculously survived his first real acts of denial, and gradually brought him back to the now. Might speak more ore less on that later - i had these thoughts for memory lane actually!

[cherrycherryking]

Hi! I love your stuff with Wally!! I was wondering if you could do Wally (Or Eddie if you write for him) with a reader who likes to write and make up fun stories to share with friends? (You don’t have to but I think it’d be cute) Oki have a nice daaaay :))

sooo idk if you just wanted this to be just and x reader or a character ideas, so, i did both!! hope you like it <3

(+some drawings!)

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Wally Darling x Gen!Reader (platonic or romantic) Eddie Dearest x Gen!Reader (platonic or romantic)

Writer Character

✧We got ourselves a little writer!

✧Or maybe an author, or a librarian, or a poet- point is! You love to write and create this silly funny stories for all of your friends to see.

✧Some fun concepts for a character like this could be a bee cause spelling bee! Or a mouse because library mouse (or just whatever you like)

✧We know in the show there was storybook sections. I think a lot of these would be narrated and a lot of times even created by you!

✧I can picture your segment starting with the camera focusing on you reading or writing, then inviting the viewer to follow the story along. As you may imagine for a kids show they all had a neat message at the end.

✧Oh, and another resident smarty pants! I can think of some chapters or scenes where you teach spelling and grammar. "No, is not t-h-e-y-r-e, they're birthday, but t-h-e-i-r, their birthday!" (or maybe like me you suck at spelling, so ignore this lol)

✧For outfits i can suggest plaid pattern, glasses, a vest or maybe a cardigan! You can either go for a well put together smart little guy or a mess of a bookworm (that's like a scale on my head.)

✧Sally and you could be good friends now that i think about it! She loooves to make her friends perform her plays and you're just the perfect helper for that.

(if you use this as a base credit me and tag me so i can see!!)

✧Maybe appear with Frank as well, I think he could borrow books if you have a library or even have a little book club with other neighbors :]

───────────.★..─╮ Eddie x Reader ─..★.───────────╯

✧Oh you appear to help when he's teaching arts and crafts!

✧If you're big into reading, or trying to publish a book or any other sort of thing then you would see Eddie pretty often because he would always have a package or letter for you.

✧He's a bit of a forgetful klutz so you always make sure to help him a little by organizing a calendar for him! Writing down stuff you know for sure he'll forget.

✧Yes it makes him a little bit embarrassed to say the least but he's infinitely grateful of your help.

✧Every single morning in his usual route if he has the time, he always goes past your house to say hello and catch up on what you have been writing! Eddie is interested in the story you have and always listens to it with so much focus, almost as if you were telling him the hottest latest gossip of them all.

(help my poor soul im getting into an art block. eddie someday i will make you justice i promise.)

✧Or maybe you walk with him a little to accompany him. Just a heads up! Be ready to catch him when he inevitably falls because of some marbles julie forgot to pick up, a plastic duck (Barnaby- pick up your trash!) or just because!!

✧But is all worth it at the end of the day. Eddie always has time for you and your rambles. Only problem is he likes everything you write so he's not the best person if you're searching for criticism!

───────────.★..─╮ Wally x Reader ─..★.───────────╯

✧As the most prominent character of the series the plot follows Wally, and that's a way you two end up talking so much for a starters.

✧Any time Wally is staring at his canvas with no idea of what to draw he thinks "Well, they surely will have an idea" and go search for you (that is if you're not already there).

✧Thinking about how many chapters could follow the formula of you and Wally brainstorming ideas for a story, with him drawing what you narrate (and we come back to the storybook sections of the show!)

✧He would ask you "what are you doing today, neighbor?" to which you respond that you are writing about something! He asks what, you respond, he asks for more context of your story and- well now you're infodumping to him telling him all about what you have so far.

✧Oh but he would definitely be the type to draw your characters because "they are a lot of fun".

✧Picturing calm afternoons consisting of the two of you doing parallel play and every so often showing the other your progress <3

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by the end i kinda got into an artblock 😭😭 og plan was to make two rendered drawings, one for wally other for eddit yet it appears i flew too close to the sun. my god.

also this is my first time writing eddie so i'm not sure if i captured him correctly! in any case thank you so much for reading.

[kroosluvr]

sorry i feel bad for ranting on """Main"" i guess though i kinda keep this more of apersonal blog than a very polished art blog thing. under the cut

things wld be easier if i was just an oc-centric artist (which i kinda am but only to myself in my head) but it Is how it is at this point (i want to draw my ocs more but they never turn out the way i want) and theres just so much i want to draw for the silly little media franchises that happen to capture my stupid little heart and etc.

ahhhhhhhhhhhh ifeel stupid for loving too much or whatever. i dont want to throw a pity party over this either because in the end its just "who cares LOVE WHAT U LOVE DRAW WHAT U WANT" right but in the moment i feel stupid and it sucks and i hate it actually!!!!!!! and i WILL in fact keep drawing hwat i want and what makes me happy but like idkidkdidkgkhw

sometimes i cant help thinking if i was a better artist.,, like more artistically skilled........ would people really say the things they do about the things i draw

^ (Authors note: no one has been mean about the stuff i draw just. side comments i guess lol. from my friends though and not random people . so its harder to just brush off i guess)

like maybe im just not good enough yet. which is fine. spite is actually a really good drawing proponent. but its also just like . when will it be enough to be worth it? will it be worth being my friend now if im a good artist? if i draw what you want? ...........................

its obviously not discounting the people who really enjoy my art style adn what i draw regardless (which im soooo so grateful for bc i never like expect anyone to stick around sicne my fixations change like the wind) but its like... these r the people i spend the most time with . and it sucks. i have to. second guess what i say and what i type and just. ok like i know its not that serious either but i hate it i really dont like it (<- im also just socially anxious if u cant tell)

and its also like i cant just extract myself from my friend group for a while to kinda cool off (read: muster the courage to be an idiot in front of them again) bc ummmmm um i dont have many friends . they are kind of all i got. (which is nice i like small circles(?) im not good at opening up to people.) and i do admire and like them very much but then i just feel like i get bit in the ass all the time (This past month) with shit like this i guess

and honestly like. well half the reason i keep switching fixations is BECAUSE of stuff like this where i feel self conscious of """"Being obsessed"""" over One thing so much so i just immediately switch tracks so fast but its just a cycle (Which i dont see as a bad thing tbh? it keeps my art moving and things fresh so like.)

And honestly i dont really try to . be too vocal about. fandom? stuff? when im with my friends? unless they bring it up first? i got burnt so many times with my vtuber interests so like lol ive Learned. but maybe it slips out too much? bruh. my bad i guess

i have to stop thinking abt this man.., why has this happened to me so many times this past month lol its kind of ridiculous

(Im sure they dont like. mean it. right? ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, if they actually meant it and want me to shut up then they should just actually say so right.,

i just want to draw . its not going to stop me from drawing but damn does it really like rain on my parade or put a dent in my fender or whatever other sayings that i cant think of right now

in the end i really REALLY appreciate frm the very very bottom of my heart everyone that even remotely likes/appreciates my art (especially the persona stuff nowadays bc thats what im mainly pouring all my mental and physical and emotional into) like i really really mean it. because this stuff like my silly comics and stuff is really stuff i make for purely my own heart and just what i want to see kinda. and so it just makes me feel really warm that people also want to see it and keep seeing it and love it and everything like that. and, with all this kind of negative stuff going on i just go back and reread tags and comments and stuff and i feel encouraged to keep going and draw more and everything like that. so like really, truly, thank you. i really never thought so many people would like the stuff i make. even if its not really artistically good, or really deeply interesting, im really happy it could be something special to people out there

[cadmusfly]

Analysing the Quality of Napoleon's Marshals With Silly Data Science

Let's talk numbers and laugh at funny graphs with missing data!

Other people in this fandom do really lovely detailed information posts, I do weird fanfic, dragon shitposting, body pillow design shitposting and run a stupid Lannes ask rp blog. But! I'm also a programmer with an interest in Numbers, and today we're going to Analyse These Dead Frenchmen with a bunch of screenshots of graphs.

Ethan Arsht published a really interesting article called Napoleon was the Best General Ever, and the Math Proves it., where using data scraped off Wikipedia articles, he creates a statistical model drawing from multiple variables per battle to calculate How Good A General Is At Winning.

Give the article a read, it's great stuff, but if you don't feel like it, he basically applies WAR - "Wins Above Replacement" - which is a value from baseball that measures how many wins a player is worth when compared to a replacement.

So the general's WAR would be how well they compare to a completely average general who replaced them. Yes, as Arsht says, "in other words, I would find the generals’ WAR, in war."

But as he says, this is not a stringent historical analysis and is more of a fun thought experiment. Wikipedia is probably the most comprehensive dataset on this topic that he had access to, but it is Wikipedia the crowdsourced online encyclopedia, so it is going to have holes and inaccuracies. And this was written seven years ago, and the data was collected then, so any updates to these articles since then wouldn't be reflected.

And it's not a perfect model that takes into account everything - it's an approximation, a whole bunch of number crunching. I haven't looked too deeply into how the numbers work exactly, even though I could.

I think that 0 would be "completely and utterly average"? A positive WAR is good, a negative WAR is not. Napoleon is the best general ever at 16.679 WAR, the next highest is Caesar at 7.445 WAR.

(Link, you can hover over each battle and look at each datapoint!)

But I'm interested in Napoleon's marshals. The 26 men he raised up to military nobility! The dramatic assholes who kept arguing with each other. I'll post links for all of them at the end of this, but I won't be screenshotting each of their WAR graphs, just a few.

I'm not entirely sure how the scraper collected the information about what battles a commander is considered in "charge" of - I tried looking at the provided code repository but I am reminded that data science people bless them are not really good at structuring or publishing code and why are all the html pages just straight up saved in the root folder why are the jupyter notebook outputs just uncleared aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Oh yeah this was scraped from seven years ago so current wikipedia pages won't be reflective of what's on the graphs - so we can assume that this is just grabbing stuff from the "Commanders and leaders" part from each individual battle page and collating them into numbers

Anyway let's look at the iron man himself, Davout, considered to be the best of Napoleon's marshals.

(Link)

Heh, here we see the first hole in the dataset - Jena-Auerstedt is considered to be one battle, and Napoleon would like you to think that's the case.

Anyway, pretty good! Let's look at Jean Lannes, the lively Gascon

(Link)

Oooooh, even better than Davout! Helps he didn't go to Russia. Wait, why is Aspern-Essling dated to before Ratisbon, especially when Lannes died in the former?

Let's look at André Masséna, also known as being pretty cool:

(Link)

Damn, neat, though I think there's a lot of omissions here.

Here's Murat:

(Link)

Lol Tolentino, I do like how Murat Peaked there a little bit

But we're forgetting a certain redhead, aren't we?

(Link)

Ouch. But also Waterloo not appearing there, hmmm.

Anyway let's finish off the screenshots with Napoleon's greatest strategist, Jean-de-Dieu Soult, the man that Wellington called a master of the defensive!

(Link)

honestly this is the entire reason why i wanted to write this post

in soult's defense - as a soult defender - he had a pretty shitty army full of conscripts, was isolated, was occasionally pretty bad at adapting tactically to new surprises and had to deal with the english being stubborn fuckers, but he was brilliant in setting things up strategically and forcing the english to catch up through a fighting retreat with a demoralised army, stopping them from closing in on france too

but also the way this graph bullies soult so hard makes me laugh a lot

Anyway, yeah, these graphs are definitely inaccurate and I'm also posting these to see the Napoleonic community on tumblr's reaction to them, but they are a fun way to engage with history!

Just don't take them seriously, and feel free to argue in the tags/comments/reblogs

I could theoretically use this guy's code to rerun this just for the Marshals now - I know my way around some data science code - but I do have a lot on my plate, but it would be a fun experiment!

Marshal WAR Graph Links

Note: So these are under the Wikipedia article names at the time that the web scraper was run seven years ago so some of these names turned out to be different from what they are now and I had to do a bit of digging to fix some

you can definitely tell that the information is incomplete on a lot of these, again i repeat the information was scraped off wikipedia seven years ago

Louis-Nicolas Davout

Jean Lannes

Joachim Murat

Michel Ney

André Masséna

Jean-de-Dieu Soult

Bon-Adrien Jeannot de Moncey (one battle lol)

Jean-Baptiste Jourdan

Charles-Pierre Augereau

Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte aka Charles XIV John of Sweden (Two battles and only Swedish ones I think)

Guillaume Brune

Édouard Mortier (two battles)

Jean-Baptiste Bessières (two battles)

François Christophe de Kellermann (one battle, Valmy)

François Joseph Lefebvre (two battles)

Charles-Victor Perrin (ouch)

Étienne Macdonald

Nicolas Oudinot (lol)

Auguste de Marmont (loll)

Laurent de Gouvion Saint-Cyr

Józef Poniatowski (three battles but hmm. pretty bad but feel like there's too much missing info here)

Emmanuel de Grouchy (two battles, can't make a Where's Grouchy joke)

Marshals Without Graphs Not because they didn't command anything but I couldn't find their graphs on the website or in the code repo

Catherine-Dominique de Pérignon

Jean-Mathieu-Philibert Sérurier

Louis-Gabriel Suchet (wtf? maybe seven years ago the documentation on him was sad)

EDIT: wait i was looking at the notebook (the uh place where the code was being run, to see if i could run the code myself)

soult is one of the lowest ranked generals overall on this initial list pfftHAHAHhahahahahahahaha

[foxgloveinspace]

tron fic recs??👀

Hi there! I have to preface this by saying I mostly read (and currently write) Sam/Tron (or Rinzler depending on the fic). While I do read a bunch of just general Tron fic, I tend to have a ship I like and stick with it.

I am really enjoying Salvage What You Can by TooManyTeeth, more so the concept then some of the ideas. (I don't ship sam and quorra), but I can get over those for the concept of Rinlzer and Tron being in the same Grid and not the Same People, and Rinlzer finding out he's the 'evil twin' as the tags put it. I'm only on chapter 14, and there have been some moments that have down right broke my heart. Lots and lots of Rinzler angst.

Want some fluff about pre movie Tron and Clu learning swear words?? No Stupid Questions by bowiesinspace is the fic series for you! It's crack (in the since that it's silly, not you know. weird). and Just an all around fun time.

While this one has a bit of of Sam/Tron in it, the pov is Alan and it's not exactly about Sam and Tron, it's about how Alan feels, seeing and being around Tron, and is very very emotional. But also my second favorite fic in the fandom. And that is Mea Culpa by 2019-2020 (EnglishLanguage).

My first favorite fic is by the same author, and that is Genesis. I don't have words for this fic honestly. It's from Sam's POV, and it's about him coming back to a completely empty Grid. There are lines in this fic that literally left me gasping for air. It's almost GEN but there's hints of the fact that there will be something more between Sam and Tron.

I'll be a bit of a silly goose, and plug my own fic here, Whatever Here (That's Left of Me) part one has no shipping besides Lora and Alan, and is about Sam fixing the Grid from the other side of the screen, having a lot of family moments with Alan, Lora and Quorra and talking with Tron. The second part will be about Sam and 'Tron' falling in love. (which knowing me and my writing, means also at least two smut scenes). So if you just want to read part one that is a-okay with me!

Lastly, in this category I am recommending every single one of Solar_Siren's fictober collections. (and one Angstpirl challenge in there as well) There is a lot of different ships in here (Mostly Tron/Yori) and a lot of Uprising stuff. A lot of REALLY good fics in here.

and now the rest of these will all be just Sam/Tron.

for T rated fics,

Sam and Tron going on a first date, and it's not going as well as Sam would like but they have a good time. Falling in Tandem by bowisinspace (I also rec all their fics. they are all very nice. The kudosbot fic??? HUh?? Why am I emotional over a little ai?? *cries*)

Late Onset Digitalism by EnglishLanguage & Lobster_Emoji is not finished, but I really enjoyed this fic, and I don't think it ended on a clif hanger? I only read it the one time though. I still think it was worth the read. another Sam fixing the Grid fics, but with some fun twists.

We Are Pilots by shirozora is a CLASSIC samtron, and just Tron in general, fic. I read this fic once a year and its just. really good. Sam goes back to the Grid to try and see if Kevin left any clues on what he meant by 'Quorra will change the world' and instead finds Tron, and a Grid in chaos. (One small note is that, even though it's rated T there is some smut towards the end.)

E rated Fics:

First two are longer fics where the smut is only a scene or two. Last one is a smutty one shot.

Someone Has To Draw First Blood by dreamlittleyo is another classic. Kevin took Sam to the Grid when he was a kid, and only luck is the reason that Sam didn't go with him that night of the coup. When Sam shows back up as an adult Tron follows him out the Grid, and then they fall in love.

One Miracle at a Time by dreamlittleyo another 'Sam goes back to the Grid' fics. I haven't read this one in a while, but I remember really liking it. I should reread it soon. Maybe I'll do it tonight.

Patience, Sam Flynn by bowiesinspace (how many of their fics have i recced haha). Short one shot, it's very nice, I love the end cause they get very snuggly.

[kaseyskat]

the other day i wrote a little smth as a warm up that is based mostly on musings i associate with @officialgleamstar (thank u travvy ily) and i have decided against my better judgement to post it! for funsies

~~~

Taylor’s mom bought the house.

It was a gift to them, after Normal had studied and studied to learn a spell that could regrow her disintegrated hand and after the near end of the world left them far too behind in their schooling to catch up. A safe place: they didn’t have to live there, but Link stayed there as he slowly mended the relationship with his dad, and sometimes Taylor would come for solitude, and sometimes Normal would visit just to get away from his family.

And Scary? Well.

After her stepdad’s death, she hadn’t gone back home. How could she? Her relationship with her mother was irreparably destroyed, torn to shreds and left a bleeding corpse. It was hard enough to call her when all was said and done, hands trembling as she tried to explain the craziness of the world.

She loves her mother. Her mother doesn’t deserve this: a heart broken twice over, the death of her husband and subsequent death of the daughter she knew. No, it was easier for Scary to go to Normal’s dad and beg him to use magic to wipe her mother’s memory, to give her a chance to start again.

She hopes that she’s happy, somewhere, somehow. It would make everything worth it.

Hermie stays with her at the new house most often. He, too, couldn’t go back home to his adopted parents after everything, not with how long he’s been gone, the truth of his heritage revealed. Despite it, Scary almost doesn’t mind: she likes the company, surprisingly enough.

Hermie’s mellowed out over the years. Now, at eighteen, she’s been working on her GED just like Scary has, wanting to fly over the world and audition at different colleges. I still think it’d be neat to get on Broadway, they had confessed to Scary once, when the dark of the night had been heavy and oppressive and all they could do was sit on the porch and share a blunt. Feels like a silly goal after the end of the world, though.

When they’re not trying so hard, he’s actually kind of a neat person. Scary finds his company endearing.

They never had gotten their marriage annulled. It was pointless: Taylor’s dad, for all his charms, was legally dead after disappearing when Taylor was a kid, and it would just be too much effort. Scary doesn’t think she minds, even if she hadn’t technically consented to the marriage in the first place.

Tonight, though, Normal is the one visiting. She finds him sitting in the living area, curled up in the pillows, staring wistfully at the TV screen when she comes down the stairs to make herself dinner.

“Hey, Norm,” she greets, softly, watching the way his gaze flickers to her and back again. “What’s wrong?”

“Hi, Terri,” Normal mumbles, and he shifts around a little bit, leaving just enough space for Scary to squeeze in next to him, drawing him into her arms. He goes willingly, pliant against her chest, shivering.

His hair has grown out into a wild mess of curls that he’s braided loosely. It’s cute. He’s cute, although Scary would never admit so out loud.

“Mom’s made some progress with Margaret,” he explains, his tone muffled as Scary starts to work on unbraiding his hair– as it is, it’s half fallen out, and will only make it harder to sleep later, she knows the pain pretty well. “But with Dad spending so much time with my grandparents… I don’t know. It just gives me the creeps. Is that bad?”

“If you want me to tell you you’re not a bad person, you’ve come to the wrong gal,” Scary snorts. “I’m glad to see you though. Feels like it’s been forever since you came to visit last.”

“I might stay for a few days this time. At least until Dad gets back. She told me that she’d be finding an apartment when she came back to San Dimas, so I won’t have to deal with Margaret smiling at me all the time.” Normal shudders, and he makes a quiet whimpering sound as Scary’s fingers brush a little too close to his neck.

“Stay as long as you want, seriously,” Scary tells him. “Hermie’s been practicing monologues at me again, and let me tell you, I did not miss the method acting one bit.”

Normal laughs at that, and then they fall quiet.

For some reason, he’s the easiest one to deal with, in the aftermath of it all. Link is just… angry at the world, and all the sweet charm that had attracted Scary to him in the first place is gone, replaced with a quiet frustration. Oh, he’s still the loyal teddy bear to them and the others, but even as he repairs things with Grant…

…he hasn’t been the same, after it all.

Then again, had any of them? Scary thinks if she told her younger self that one day she’d be here, living in an extravagant house paid by a famous voice actress, holding Normal Oak in the closest facsimile to a relationship she’s ever had… well, she’d think it was a crazy fever dream, for sure.

It’s nice. Scary’s had the concept of family broken and plastered with glue and duck-tape and then broken again, but somehow she’s found it, and she’s found it here: playing with Normal’s hair, twisting the curls in her fingers now that it’s freed from its constraints, his head tucked into her chest, body pliant against hers.

It’s the closest thing to love that she has, and by the Gods Above, she’s going to take it.

“Norm, I can feel you falling asleep against me,” she finally says, snickering with amusement at the way Normal only hums in response. “Do you wanna change first? Or at least go upstairs?”

“I’m already comfy right here,” he replies, the pout evident in his tone, and to punctuate it, he nuzzles further into her chest, nudging Scary backwards until she’s comfy herself against the arm of the couch, Normal crumpled in her arms. Here, their legs are intertwined, and she can still play with his hair, and the blankets they keep on the couch for this specific reason are all tangled around them.

“You’re gonna have to deal with my backache tomorrow,” she warns, but she can’t keep the smile out of her tone, and she hesitates, and then commits, leaning in to press a kiss to Normal’s forehead. “Get some rest, dork. I’ll get Hermie to make us pancakes in the morning.”

“Hermie’s pancakes suck,” Normal huffs, but as his breath evens out, Scary just smiles again.

It’s not what she pictured for herself, sure, but in this moment? There’s nowhere else she’d rather be.