#now I will cross my fingers the readmore on this works bc i'm posting on desktop and i never do that asjhsjshjs

[dr11ft]

Hi!

Some weeks ago I was biting my lips so much that it started bleeding and there was a little wound for some days. It made me thinking. Which one of your characters has ticks (thats how I should call it?), like stuff they do when they are stressed.

Thinking about it like this, sounds like just plus work, but I can imagine that in stressful days someone has something like this (like ocassionally pulling out a strand of hair or just scratching their skins). Talking about this now sounds kinda bad, but its just an idea. I just wanna hear your thoughts about it.

Sorry if this topic made you uncomfortable. Take care!

Don't worry I'm actually really happy to answer this 😅 I love talking about my characters. I am gonna put a readmore so the post isn't too long though.

Okay I'm just gonna do the main characters I usually post abt on here, hope that's cool

Scythe - Messes with the switches on his phone (ig it's a phone they have communicator things bc cyberpunk) when it's in his pocket, flicks his lighter on/off sometimes, especially when it's almost dead, rolls his tongue over the outside of his fangs/teeth (? I'm not sure how to specifically describe it) Bites his lips but less chewing on them and more dragging his fangs over his bottom lip.

Rael - Plays with his tongue piercing a lot, specifically rolling it against the back of his teeth, chews only one side of his lip because he got a piercing on the other side hoping to stop doing it completely and it failed 💀, cracks his bones a lot (not like breaking them just popping the joints in his fingers and wrists). He also bounces his leg a lot.

Iris - She's always tucking her hair behind her ear and it always falls back over her face lol, this is maybe a little gross but she plays with her cybernetic eye, like she'll move it around with her finger and then let it magnetically shift back into place in the socket. She flips pens around if she's writing something and can't focus. Crosses and uncrosses her arms a lot.

Kaspar - Chronic gum chewer, if he didn't wear a gas mask a lot of the time he'd be blowing bubbles with bubblegum. He rubs his thumb and 3rd finger against eachother a lot, and also anxiety shreds things. Like if he's nervous and holding a piece of paper it'll be gone in 5 minutes. He tends to crack his neck to the side a lot. And playing with his hoodie strings that's a big one.

Hope this helped?? These things are really fun for me to write so feel free to ask more!

[derelictdumbass]

Family Outing 💕

[close ups & short excerpt of the scene that inspired this under the cut]

"Is that so?" The man mutters, tapping in the price of his items more aggressively than necessary into the register. He looks like he's about to say something else but the sound of heavy booted footsteps cuts him off and Caleb is relieved to see Dean step into the doorway.

"You good bubs?" He asks, one arm resting against the doorframe as the other was tucked away in his pocket.

"Yeah i'm good dad, i'll be out in a sec," He smiles and Dean nods, lingering for a second as he glances at the man behind the register.

"Kay, we'll be by the fence—Charmeine's about to eat your brother so don't take too long," He hums, tapping his closed fist against the doorframe as he pushes himself back and points to the right. Caleb giggles and Dean smiles warmly, but is quick to shoot the elderly man a warning look before he walks back out of sight.

"Seventeen bucks," The man grumbles, holding his hand out expectantly. Caleb places the money in his hand and swipes his small haul.

"Keep the change," he says, a hint of smugness in his words as he hurries out. He really just didn't want to be in there for any longer than he needed to be and he's glad as the scoff that follows him out the door is less than pleasant.

Charmeine spots him first and starts rushing up to him as he makes his way over, Dean holding Ace on his hip and leaning against the less than sturdy looking wooden fence.

"Did you get my juice?" Charmeine asks, pushing her sunhat up as she stops in front of him, blue eyes zoned in on the snacks in his arms. Caleb holds out the apple juice, yanking it higher in the air as she goes to grab it.

"What do we say?" He hums, mocking the words his dad had said to him many times and making said man roll his eyes as he grins cheekily.

"Thank you Caleb," Charmeine draws out the words similar to how kids greet their least favourite teacher in the morning and Caleb relents, tossing her the bottle. She squeals as she fumbles to catch it but a smile blooms on her face as she does and she happily skips with him back to their brother and dad.

"You want me to put that in my bag?" Dean asks, nodding his head to the snacks and his drink but Caleb shakes his head, falling into step with his dad as they head back onto the trail.

"Nah I got it," Caleb brushes off the offer and Dean nods.

"Okie dokie—So! My lovely little terrors, where to next?" He asks, raising his hand to fix Ace's wispy hairs and adjust his bucket hat so it was out of his eyes.

"Cheesburger!" Charmeine exclaims, swinging her stick around as she all but hopped ahead of them. Caleb giggled at his little sister, watching her jump over small twigs and rocks on the ground like an excited bunny.

"We already had lunch honey," Dean says gently, watching her with a smile of his own.

"No dad, she means the bear," Caleb corrects him, holding in his laughter as Dean looks down at him with confusion written all over his face.

"I'm sorry the what now?"

"Cheeseburger, look!" Charmeine digs a crumpled piece of paper from her dress's pocket, holding it up to Dean who takes it gingerly and struggles to straighten it out against his jeans. He looks over the paper and Caleb grins at the very unsure look on his face, he looks at Caleb who simply shrugs and unscrews the lid of his coca cola.

"I have some concerns," Dean says flatly, mouth closing in to a straight line as he tucks the paper away into his own pocket.

"Please daddy, i've never seen a bear before! They said you can pet him and everything!" Charmeine cries out, small arms wrapping around his waist, small sandaled feet standing on his boot as he manages to keep walking with her now attached to him like a baby koala. Caleb tries to hold back his snickering as his fathers face seems to pale at the thought of his five year old daughter patting a fully grown brown bear.

"The flier said it's safe dad, he's like domesticated or something," Caleb says in an attempt to reassure him, he kind of wanted to see the bear too if he was being honest. It would be cool.

"Ple—ease dad," Charmeine begs, leaning back and giving their dad her best puppy dog eyes and pout combo she could muster. Caleb was impressed, especially when he noticed the tears welled up in the corner of her eyes. He'd taught her well, he thought with a proud smile as Dean let out a sigh that Caleb knew was one of utter defeat. No one could deny Charmeine’s puppy dog eyes.

Dean looked down at Ace who was about as interested in what was going on as a toddler could be, big blue eyes looking back at him with not a single thought in them.

"What do you think Ace, you want to see the bear too?" He asks and Caleb grins, reaching up to grab his brother's small cheeks.

"Yes I do and if you don't take us I'm gonna throw up on your shirt," Caleb puts on a higher pitched voice, Ace giggling as he squishes his cheeks to make it look like he was talking. Dean bursts into laughter and Charmeine giggles. Caleb's hand falls back to his side as he watches his dad shake his head, looking down at him with an endearing gaze.

"Well it looks like I'm outnumbered," he sighs. Charmeine cheers in delight, jumping off of Dean and running ahead in excitement. Ace babbles happily and baps at Dean's face, wiggling in his grip and making him shift him to his other arm. Caleb happily falls into his dads side as he wraps an arm around his shoulders, watching Charmeine as she races up the trail.

"What am I gonna do with you," Dean mutters mostly to himself, looking down at Caleb who takes a contemplative sip of his drink.

"Feed us, love us, make sure we don't get eaten by a bear—you know, the usual dad stuff," Caleb replies, Dean chuckling and ruffling his hair.

"You know what I think I can do that,"

"You're checking all the boxes so far,"

[gingerbreadmonsters]

vincent fic is out!!! hopefully my readmore works bc this one is hefty, but i'm v pleased 🥰

edit: wait what the FUCK

tumblr reordered all of my paragraphs - give me a minute to reshuffle them

edit pt2: ok i think it's fixed?? fingers crossed bc i am v tired and should be in bed, apologies to @calicostorms who i think saw the post in its weird shuffled format and now probably thinks they are having a stroke trying to figure out what's going on

[fexalted]

@asdmabel said: MULTIPLES!!! OF!!! THREE!!! MULTIPLES!!! OF!!! THREE!!! MULTIPLES!!! OF!!! THREE!!!

hahaha why am i not surprised

posting it like this bc readmores on ask posts sometimes don't work on mobile? and this is gonna get super long, so (also warning for talk of self harm / child abuse)

3 is a fic where ford, post-bill betrayal, uses the copy machine to make a clone of himself that can perform the surgery to put the metal plate in his head. it's in 2nd person (bc i'm incapable of writing anything else), and in the clone ford's pov

Ford opens an eye, squinting against the overhead light. You shut it off so he doesn't have to strain to see you, and he blinks groggily, taking in the room around him with a bleary gaze before settling on you.

You're about to tell him that the surgery went well, everything is fine, he's going to be okay, but Ford speaks before you do, shattering what little composure you have with one word.

"Stanley?" he breathes incredulously, his voice weak and cracking.

You're not sure if you have a heart anymore but you feel like it just stopped regardless. He's delusional, clearly the anesthesia hasn't worn off completely yet, and he's mistaken you for your—his—brother.

"I... I'm—" you start to explain, but stop suddenly. Ford's eyes are hazy and unfocused but hopeful, and you find you can't take that hope away so quickly. You might as well let one of you believe that Stan is actually here for you.

So you clear your throat and put on your best impression of Stan. Which, admittedly, is not very great; you're a little out of practice.

"Y-Yeah, Ford. It's me. It's Stan."

"Stanley," he says again, softer this time, more like a sigh. He reaches out for you and you flinch back, jerking your hands away instinctively before he can notice the number of fingers on them, and his face just crumples.

6 is the note of cut parts from other fics! which means i get to share the original ending i had started writing for make me believe again!! :D

...which i maybe shouldn't be so excited about, considering the subject matter, oops. in the initial draft of the fic, stan had also self-harmed in the past, and this ending was attempting to address that. i didn't get super far with it bc it was giving me some hard mood whiplash and i couldn't figure out how to fix it, but here it is anyway

"Hi, I'm Steve Pinington! Are you sick of bandages that are hard to remove? Then what you need is the Rip Off!"

You turn to Stanley, eyebrow raised, your expression a cross between confused and amused. "Steve Pinington?"

"Look, I uh, I couldn't use my real name, okay?" he explains, rubbing the back of his neck as his face and ears turn red with embarrassment. "Anyway they're not even supposed to be playing this anymore!"

"Please tell me that mustache is fake."

"Unfortunately, it isn't."

"Oh my god," you say, unable to stop a laugh from bubbling out of you. "How is that thing real? You couldn't even grow peach fuzz when we were teenagers!"

"Yeah, well, a lot of things have changed since then, haven't they?" Stanley snaps, and your laughter dies instantly. "Sorry," he adds a second later. "Just wasn't really in a good place back then."

You bite your tongue, your heart sinking. He wasn't just embarrassed, he was uncomfortable, and you just made things worse. And right after the two of you had started to truly patch up your relationship, no less!

You guess you both have more to talk about than you thought.

And you know you shouldn't ask what kind of place he was in then, but you're concerned and you need to make things okay again and he's rubbing at his arms and if you don't ask now you never will, so—

"Stanley," you start, hesitantly. "You don't have to answer this, but... The scars, on your arms. Are they...?" You can't seem to get out the final words, but thankfully he seems to get where you're trying to go.

"Some are from fights," he says. "A lot are, actually. You make more enemies than friends when you owe money to the wrong people. But, uh, some of the scars... I made."

Your heart shatters. "Stan..."

"I stopped, though!" he says quickly, before either one of you gets too emotional. "I stopped. I've been good about it, too. It's why I don't hide 'em. Feels like it helps to see how much they're healing or somethin', I dunno. Thought it might help you to see 'em, too. To know you're not alone, y'know?"

"I think seeing them has worried me more than anything, honestly," you say. "But I appreciate the thought behind it. I'm glad you're doing better."

"Right back at ya," Stanley says.

You don't ask him why he hurt himself. You don't really need to guess.

9 is a fic about stan and his conflicting feelings about filbrick (aka, the fic where i throw all my own dad issues). it's a bit of a mess bc i rarely have the energy to write in it so let's just skip to the end where ford gives stan a hug

"It wasn't your fault," Ford says. "You were just a kid, Stan. You didn't deserve any of that, and I'm sorry."

"Oh," you choke out, and you think you're crying? Your hands are shaking and there's a lump in your throat and your vision is blurring and yep those are definitely tears on your face. "Oh," you say again. Welp, this is embarrassing. You quickly try to scrub the tears from your eyes so you can save face in front of your brother, but Ford takes your hands and pulls you into a hug instead.

"I'm sorry," Ford says again, voice wobbling slightly. "I should've stood up for you back then. I should've protected you like you always protected me."

"That's—" you sniffle against Ford's shoulder, which is rapidly becoming soaked because of you. "That's not your fault, either. You were just a kid yourself. You got your fair share of it too."

"I know," he says. "I just..."

"It's okay."

"It's really not."

You try to laugh and end up making some sort of pathetic sob, half-stifled and choked off before it can escape your throat. Another sob slips out before you can hold it back, then another, and then you're all but bawling like a baby into your brother's sweater, while Ford rubs your back in gentle circles and you cling to him with a tight, trembling grip.

and last but not least, 12 is my brain trauma au fic, which i've already sent you a very stan-focused part of, so here's a smaller, still stan-focused bit (i promise this fic is actually about ford at least half the time shdksjdk) that i am very happy with

So maybe your grip is a little too tight when you take hold of both his hands, and maybe your voice is a little too loud and panicked when you tell him to look at you and breathe, but he listens, and he looks, and he breathes. And you grab his glasses and the two scrapbooks off the nightstand, and you flip through the pages together in silence.

And by dawn, the look of blank fear in your brother's eyes has been replaced by exhaustion and guilt and shame. He slumps against you, forehead pressed to your collarbone, and through the cracks in his voice come whispered apologies—for waking you, for scaring you, for forgetting you—and you drape a protective arm around his shoulders and shush him and tell him it's alright. He remembers again, and that's all that matters.

You have weathered your first storm at sea.