#reposting because tumblr shadowbanned the first one

[plutoswritingplanet]

Stop, Hammer Time (The Grabber x Female!Reader)

a/n: told y’all i’d do it. reposting because tumblr finally gave me my posting rights back. 

Warnings: Kidnapping (shocking, i know), General Stalker Behavior from the man of the hour, Suggestive Themes, Reader is An ADULT ffs

Summary: Curse your good nature and your winning smile. Curse your anger issues, and the inability to keep your mouth closed. But most importantly, God bless speed bumps. 

There is a slight tremor in your movements, as you try to spread some peanut butter onto a half-burned toast. The knife you've picked up, catches on a stray bag of chips, laying abandoned on the counter. Some of the peanut butter smears onto the packaging. You stare at the messy patch for a second too long, the vein at the side of your head nearly popping then and there. That's enough for you. You place the knife down with enough force to chip away at the tiles.

You take a step back, wrists pressed into your eye sockets. It must've been a long day, and a tiresome one at that.

He likes to watch you, when you're angry.

Your cheeks flare up with a bright blush, eyebrows scrunch together, and your eyes have this magical shine in them. One, even a window and a bit of distance can't stifle. He ducks a bit more out of view, his head of graying hair hiding behind a bush. He's seen you enough times to know, that once you get lost in thought, you tend to look out the kitchen window.

Those are your little intricacies, he has learned by heart. He treasures them, every time he's lucky enough to bear witness. Like the times he's seen you shake your hands after coming home. Every single time you lock your door, you turn towards the house and shake your hands, as if trying to rid yourself of some residue from the outside world.

He knows all this, because there is a beautiful view from the living room window. He can see your entire corridor from there, even reaching the doors to your bathroom. You really should invest in some actual curtains, because those frilly things don't do much. If he doesn't feel like getting out of his van, he can just park it right outside your yard. The patch of land is barely big enough to fit your house, fence almost touching the wall. There, between two bushes, he can lean back into his seat, and watch.

He's not obsessed. He'd never admit it either way. In his mind, he's just looking out for you, for your safety. There are some messed up sickos in the area. He should know, he's one of them. But not for this particular reason. No.

It's getting dark outside, the whole town slowly getting ready to sleep. Not you, however. Never you. Always on the run, always working, putting everyone's needs first, never stopping to take care of yourself. He's tired of seeing it, your slouched silhouette, as you finally come home after days of working. If he had the chance, he'd make you see how much more there is to life, when you have someone to care for you, to protect you. Someone like him.

Now, you, beautiful, angelic you, are making sandwiches for some kid you're meant to babysit tonight. He can barely see the head full of curly hair coming to the kitchen and grabbing a bite out of your hard work. It makes something boil under his skin, that ungrateful brat.

- I was meant to stay until seven - you say to the kid - I have another family to get to in like, five minutes. I have to go.

- That's okay, my dad's probably closing things off at work, I'll tell him you stayed an extra hour.

The man feels his chest come close to exploding at the image of your smile. Teeth on full display, some dimples in your cheeks. So sweet, so pretty, so far away. His hands tighten into fists at his sides, but before he can focus on another wave of anger, you start to walk towards the door.

- See you later Finney, say hi to your sister from me - you wave at the kid, and close the front door behind you.

At the porch, first thing you do is shake your hands. He smiles, as he sees you do it, the view of you partially obscured by a rather large bush. As quietly as he can, for a man of his stature, he begins to tread back to his van, twigs snapping, under his heavy boots.

You get off the porch only when you hear a tell-tale sound of the lock being turned. You'd never leave any kid you're meant to be babysitting all alone in their house, but it's been an hour past your shift. There's another family, that needed a sitter for the night, while the parents went to a birthday party. Or a wedding. You're not entirely sure, never one to meddle into your client's affairs.

So, with a sigh, you begin walking down the road, your destination just a couple of blocks over. That's when you hear a snap coming from the alley, running parallel to Finney's house.

There's a figure crouched over the side of the road, moving from side to side, as if looking for something. A difficult task in the growing darkness. For a moment, you nearly turn away and walk ahead. It would be the safe thing to do, especially since there's a kidnapper on the loose. But then, the crouched man sighs deeply, and moans an "oh no" in such a pathetic voice, you can't imagine him being dangerous in any way. So, like the good citizen you are, you plaster a smile onto your face.

- Sir? Are you okay?

The man nearly trips, as he stands up abruptly, turning to face you. You can barely see his features, as the streetlamps haven't turned on yet. His jawline seems to be sharp, eyes covered by orange sunglasses, a sight, which should've been a screeching red flag at the current time of day. And he's tall. Frighteningly so. His frame is large, towering over you, despite his shy stance. Hands behind his back, head hung low.

- Have you lost something? - you ask again, taking another step closer, caution blowing away alongside the evening's wind.

Finally, the man looks up, his face painted a sickly shade of white. Like a clown, or a magician. Definitely not a normal member of the town, which is why you can't seem to shake the feeling, you've seen this man before.

- Oh! - the man's voice is high and airy, which sounds absolutely strange, coming from someone of his size. - Yes, I dropped my car keys somewhere, and I can't seem to find them. Silly old me.

You rationalize, that it must be his "performer" voice. Sort of like your own special tone, you use only when dealing with customers, during your day job at the café. Perhaps you've seen him there, among dozens of people going in and out. He probably tried the special Sunday pie, and decided to never come back. The image makes you suppress a laugh, but the man catches your huff with a raised eyebrow.

- Sorry, just got reminded of something funny - you mutter, before coming to stand next to the lawn, eyes searching for any key-adjacent shapes.

The man looks at you for a moment longer, as if contemplating something, but you're too embarrassed by your previous hiccup, to hold his gaze.

- Yeah? Want to share with an old geezer like me?

You smile to yourself, as you crouch down next to a patch of wild grass. The man really didn't look that old. Sure, there was at least a gap of twenty-something years between the two of you, but you wouldn't give him more than fifty years. Well, fifty-five at most.

- Ah, it's nothing. - you chuckle - It's just we have this special pie at work...

The rest of your sentence is cut off cruelly, as a sharp pain erupts in the back of your head. Your vision swims with specks of black, and soon, you feel yourself falling. As your face lands on the patch of grass you've previously inspected, you barely register someone's hands grabbing at your shoulders. The last thing you remember, are blue eyes, almost popping out of their sockets, as they look over your face. The feverish, almost child-like wonder in them being your last image before you completely slip into darkness.

Thank God for speed bumps.

You're awakened rudely, as your head jumps up, and hits the metal flooring of a van. It takes you a while to recognize the sound of a working engine. Even more, to realize you're laying down, inside the car. But the most important revelation comes in much later. Your hands aren't tied. Which means your attacker was sure you wouldn't wake up before he got you, wherever he wanted to take you.

The man. A long shiver runs up your spine at the mere memory of his intense gaze. With panicked eyes, you search around the dark van. Looking over your shoulder, you can see the top of his head, peaking over the driver's seat. His back is turned to you, focused on the road ahead. Perfect.

Slowly, you start to move. Uncurling your aching limbs from the uncomfortable position he has put you in. Then, you start to touch around you, hands flailing, as you try to find something, anything you can use to defend yourself. Finally, your fingers brush over a untensil of some sort. The handle is made of wood, and as you begin to map it out further with your hands, you realize what you're holding, is in fact, a hammer. And not any hammer. Judging by the sticky liquid coating the head of the tool, it's the same hammer, the Mystery Kidnapper used to stun you with.

Armed, you hide the weapon under your body, focusing very hard on not throwing up, as the incessant, throbbing pain in the back of your head finally catches up to you. You lay like this for a couple of minutes, listening to the sounds of the van's engine. Sometimes the man would hum under his nose. Some old tune you'd hear on the radio decades ago. His voice is nice, you note, among other delirious thoughts running through your terrified mind.

Finally, the man pulls over. The car is turned off with a rather pathetic sound, that betrays its old age. Then, with cautious eyes, you watch him get out, slamming the door to the driver's side. You hold your breath, squeezing your eyes shut, fingernails digging into the wooden handle of the hammer. You can hear his footsteps, heavy on the gravel road. If you focus hard enough, you imagine, you can hear his breathing, the beating of his heart.

Then, the door to the backside of the van open, metal screeching in protest. You count to three, until he puts his hands on you. Both of them grabbing at your shoulders. That's when you uncurl like a snake, the hammer connecting with the side of his torso, with a sickening, wet sound.

- Fuck! - the man curses loudly, loosing balance for just a moment, giving you time to slide yourself out of the vehicle.

The hit, however unexpected, is not nearly hard enough to sway him. You're not able to take two full steps, before you feel hands grabbing at the back of your shirt. Stitches tear, as the man forcefully yanks you backwards, sending you towards the pavement. You fall like a sack of potatoes, head hitting the cement. A groan erupts from your lips, as another wound forms at the back of your head, but this time, you fight those black spots with all your might.

Pushed by panic alone, you turn on your stomach, crawling away from the van. Again, you don't make it far, before he catches you. Suffocating weight bears down on you, as he all but crushes your body to the pavement with his own. Your head cranes back, trying to look at him, perhaps spit in his face, but one of his hands finds purchase in your hair, tugging at the roots hard enough, to make you bear your teeth at him with a hiss.

His knees pin your legs to the ground, his torso pressing close to your back, impossible heat coming off of him in waves. Other hand makes quick work of capturing your hands and pinning them by the wrists above your head. Your body jerks under him in a futile attempt at throwing him off. That's when his hips press closer to your backside, in a warning you understand all too well. A sickening feeling coils in your stomach, at the sensation of something very obviously hardening against the inside of your thigh.

You freeze, breathing heavily through your teeth. The fact, that you can't see his face angers you to no end. You want to etch it into your memory, so you can imagine it twisted in pain, as you tear his fucking throat out. Perhaps your mother was right, when she told you years ago, you had some anger issues. But you'll be damned if they don't come in handy in this situation.

- Stop fucking moving, or I'll give you a real reason to squirm - he growls in your ear, fixing his hold in your hair.

He waits for a moment. You feel his eyes drilling holes into your face. Your movements stop, muscles tense as you lay pinned to the pavement.

- Good - he praises, his tone of voice changing into something akin to a condoscending chuckle, letting go of your hair in favor of gently patting the crown of your head.

The gesture makes you want to rip his hand clean off.

- Now - his body moves on top of yours, pressure leaving you back slightly, as he changes position, from downright crushing you, to hovering. - You're going to be very quiet, and we'll walk right up to that door there.

You can't see the door he's talking about, all you can see is the veins running up his surprisingly muscular arm, the edges of a black dress shirt. Gritting your teeth, you throw your best venomous look in the direction, you suppose the rest of his body is hidden.

- Fuck yo..

He doesn't let you finish. The hold on your hair tightening momentarily, as he drags our head upwards, and slams it back down. Your chin hits the pavement, the impact reverberating through your entire skull. You groan in pain, as the pressure on your body returns, his head craining around you, so he can whisper into your ear.

- I'm trying to take care of you, sweetheart. The least you can do, is not be a ungrateful fucking whore. - the words are forced out through his teeth, between heavy, panting breaths.

You don't have the strength to fight him, when he shifts to turn you around. Finally, you can see him. Well, part of him. The top half of his face is obscured by some sort of porcelain mask, depicting the frowning eyebrows of a devil. White horns pertrude forwards, and once you get a clear look of this deranged man, that's when fear settles in. Pure, freezing dread spreads out throughout your body like snake's venom.

Tears spring at the corners of your eyes, because, despite the many times you've stated otherwise, you really don't want to die. The alternative also looks grim, if not worse, and the helplessness of the situation wrenches a sob out of your chest.

As if touched by some magic spell, the man halts all his movements. His eyes follow teardrops that fall in heavy streams down your cheeks. Something flickers across those unfeeling blue eyes of his, something akin to guilt, but you don't feel optimistic enough to believe it.

Slowly, his arms sneak around your torso, one hand still placed firmly around your wrists. Your head sways, as he manouvers you around, forcing you into a half-sitting half-kneeling position. Then, his other hand comes up to your face.

- Oh, my poor, sweet thing - he coos, voice so gentle, you almost trust him.

Ignoring the way you flinch away from his touch, his hand wipes at at your tears, rough fingertips dragging across your skin.

- You done got yourself hurt - there's an edge to his voice, and your breathing quickens in anticipation of another outburst.

Instead, his hand wrenches itself underneath your chin, where a new wound is already forming. You watch him with fearful eyes, as his tongue peaks out to wet his lips.

- Let me kiss it better - is all the warning you get, before he dives down, despite your desperate attempts at pulling away.

His tongue presses hard against the scrape at your chin, licking a long stripe across it. The sting makes you squeak, and he soothes his assault with a chaste kiss to the wound. Then, you gasp, as he tugs your body against his chest, the ridiculousness of the position you're in, making your head swim. You stay there for a moment, feeling the rising and falling of his torso. His heartbeat surprisingly calm, considering your little tussle from before.

His true intentions come to light soon enough, however. One of his muscular arms wraps aound your throat. You try to protest, to scream, to do anything, but with one swift move, he cuts away all the oxygen. Your legs kick and flail, but he doesn't let go. The finality of the situation finally rushing down on your mind, This is how you die, this is the end.

You hear him mutter something into the crown of your head, as your conciousness starts to fade away from you once again.

[manicrouge]

Champagne Problems

[ᴊᴏʜɴ ᴍᴀᴄᴛᴀᴠɪꜱʜ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 07/02/24

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: Reminiscing about the past always leaves a bitter taste in Johnny's mouth. Especially when those memories include you.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 5,814

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt and absolutely ZERO COMFORT!!! Mentions/ implications of alcoholism, angst, implied family issues, suggestive content.

[ᴀ/ɴ]: Pain, suffering and agony. You are welcome.

THIS IS A REPOST !! I've had few issues with shadowbans and have moved accounts a few times (tumblr thought I was a bot). Also I would like to have all my work in one place rather than spread across other blogs to avoid confusion !!

ENJOY !!

Please do not post my work to any other platforms, thank you.

He finds it difficult to stomach as he looks out of the window on a train. 

The return from deployment is always bittersweet. In particular, knowing he can return back to his hometown for a short while before having to eventually go back to the base.

But, all of that disappears as he’s sitting on the train, looking out the window as rain bats against it. His eyes can hardly make anything out, it’s far too dark for his eyes to make it much further than the outline of a mountain in the distance. His arms aching and he’s unsure how long he’s been looking out of it. He’s quite sure the sleeve of his jacket is completely soaked from the condensation dripping down the window, pooling on the window sill his elbow is resting on. Still, nothing changes his position, not even the shifts of the cart as it storms along the tracks. 

In his chest, he feels his heart murmur at the thought of getting closer to home.

It’s been a while. 

The silence on the train is unnerving as he turns his eyes away from the window for a moment. Across the aisle from him, there’s another traveller. His head is pressed firmly against the back of the chair as quiet snores escape his open mouth. As he focuses on him, he notes a glistening trail on his chin and grimaces, turning his eyes away from the man, directing his gaze back to the window.

Trains during the night-time are always strange, he was familiar with them when he first joined the army. Travelling to and from always seemed worse during the day, so, he'd opted to stay at the base for an extra day, leaving in the dead of night to catch the last train available home. There was no reason to leave during the day because at night, he knew he could sleep away all the worries, arriving home well rested. 

But then something changed.

After another op, he returned to his schedule of sitting on the train at night, looking down at the sketchbook resting against the table in front of him. Holding a pencil in his hand, he busied himself with a sketch of a familiar face. There were the remains of a mistake engraved into the paper, odd rolls of the rubber sitting on the bend of his notepad as he readied the eraser in his hand in preparation for another.

His tired eyes were heavy as he observed the features of the man on the page, a small grin forming on his face as he thought about the reaction from the man when he saw him again. He’d probably only nod his head at his attempts of drawing him, noting that the details of his mask were a little janky, but that wouldn’t matter; the eyes were perfect. But Johnny knew he would still lie to him because being sincere was not one of his lieutenants specialities. 

‘Do you mind if I sit here?’ 

Setting the pencil down, he raised his head to see you standing in front of him. You smiled at him with a small glass in your hand, holding the seat opposite to him to keep yourself steady. ‘It’s just cause there’s no one else here and my phone died,’ you explained, ‘I won’t make a peep, I promise,’ you added. 

With a short nod, he motions towards the chair opposite to him, moving the pencil tin above his notepad so you had some space to place down your belongings. ‘Aye,’ he says, ‘be my guest, bonnie.’ 

So, you took a seat, placing your backpack on the chair beside you, setting your glass down. He observed the colour of the liquid, the colours faint as the bubbles raise from the bottom of the small glass, dispersing at the top. He recalled how odd he thought it was when he had first seen the funny little drink on the table, only knowing the train-line to serve water and the occasional cup of tea.

‘Champagne,’ you answered, following his eyes to the glass, ‘thought I’d treat myself.' 

‘What’s the special occasion?’ he asked with a raised eyebrow, picking his pencil back up, resuming his portrait of the moody lieutenant. The train creaked at the cart turned slightly, and he caught your hand steading the drink. ‘Ye get a promotion?’ 

Looking at you again, he noted how you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip. Your eyes fell to the aisle and your chest rose as you took a deep breath. There was something about your apprehension that troubled him, the way your flushed cheeks paled left him wounded for a short while before he realised that he had no clue why he was thinking in such a manner.

It was her eyes, he reminisces while keeping his eyes trained on the window beyond the cart.

It's a bitter pill to swallow, the memories of you still wrapping around his mind as a kids train set does a families Christmas tree during the holidays. Looping round and round and round until it's put into a box. The season in his mind has lasted longer than the measly length of the month of December, spanning years (it seemed). It's torture, yet, despite it being so cruel, he dreads the arrival of the day where he finally has the courage to box you up and shove you to the back of his mind because that would be when he could begin to forget you.

Even after all the years that have passed, he finds his mouth moves as he recalls your response to his question when you had sat opposite to him on the train.

‘Moving out, actually.'

It was just as well everything happened for you on that day, you moved out the day he got the train home. Had anything been different, neither of you would have crossed paths and while agonising, he looks at the stars in the nights sky with an air of gratitude.

You admitted after a while, your eyes falling back onto him as you heaved a heavy sigh. ‘Been stuck in a shitty situation for a while, been sitting around waiting for a chance to get out of it and tonight just so happens to be the night that everything fell back into place.’

Your words haunted him during the night, appearing like a phantom in his dreams, calling out to him. The glint of gratitude in his eyes wavers.

Your words are soft as you spoke and he likened the look you gave him to one of the valleys he had witnessed when he had taken the day train home after his first deployment. A valley with a river right below it in the midst of shrubbery and trees. The water was blue, he could see it when he looked at her. The reflection of the sun reflecting off of the surface, mirroring the rocky trails of the mountains. The sight of such had left him breathless, just as you did when you took a deep breath, reaching out for her glass, bringing it to you mouth. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t be telling a stranger my problems,’ you mumbled. 

‘It’s nae an issue, lass,’ he responded, ‘happy to hear y’ got outta whatever was making ye so miserable,’ he confessed, ‘and Scotland, eh? Pretty place if y’ ask me,’ he said with a short laugh. You laughed with him before taking another sip from your drink.

He watched as you did so, noting the glint in her eyes as you moved your eyes away from him to his notebook. Pulling the glass away from your mouth, you placed it down with a hum, swallowing the last of the drink in your mouth, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. It's a charming sight, clumsy and amusing.

‘You’re good at drawing,’ you noted, pointing at the drawing, ‘is he a character of yours?’ you asked, motioning to the drawing of the man with the skull face. A short chuckle passed his lips as he rubbed the stubble on his chin. 

‘Guess ye could call him that,’ he said, 'someone I know, actually ,' he confessed.

Your brows furrowed, wrinkles forming on your forehead as your eyes grew wide. Your hand ghosted the glass, wetting your fingers with the condensation dripping down the outside as you looked at him with glossy eyes. Fingerprints marked the glass as you forced your hand away.

'I'm so so sorry- I didn't mean it as an insult it's just-'

'Keep the heid, lass,' laughed the man.

You stared at him.

'Relax,' he said, noting the confusion on your face. Your tensed muscles softened as your picked up the glass off of the table, taking a big gulp, finishing the last of the contents in it. He frowns when he notices you shaking. You thought you had done so much wrong with a single observation. 'you weren't to know.'

'Does he really wear that mask?' you whispered as though Simon was right behind you, and had he been, Johnny could say with his heart that he wouldn't have been surprised; the damn man appeared out of nowhere all the time.

'Yeah,' he said.

'Is it part of his job?'

Your intrigue was adorable.

'No, he just prefers to hide his face,' he explained, 'suppose it makes work easier,' he said, nodding to himself. Despite his time knowing Simon, he never did know why he covered his face. Of course, it kept the human version of the man from the man who committed countless atrocities in the name of justice, yet, the point you brought up left him thinking for a short moment.

'You work together?' you asked, 'what do you do for work?'

'Part of the military,' he told you frankly, 'he's my lieutenant,' he added, although, he didn't care to tell you much more as he looked at the you with a furrowed brow, not wanting to leave you with enough time to respond to his confession, 'what about you, lass?'

'I write,' you said, 'I got a remote position at a publishing company, that's whats given me the money to move out.'

'I enjoy writin' from time to time,' he responded, 'not that good at it though, prefer drawing,' he uttered.

You were though, he didn't even bothers to think of your response because, truthfully, your humbleness in terms of your own talent was wounding to his own love for writing. As he would with advertisements, inwardly, he skips by all the small talk in his mind. It's cruel the way the mind works; memory was a burden to hold, yet as entertaining as a late night TV show which was to only be watched in secrecy.

'What's your name?' you asked, picking up another cup of champagne. He watched as you did so, lifting his own cup that you had gotten for him when you had excused yourself to the bathroom.

He kept his distaste of the beverage to himself, besides, it was free.

'Johnny,' he answered, ' and y'urself, bonnie?'

You answer accordingly, stating your name with a smile. Repeating your name, he finds it rolls off his tongue well and the longer he observes you, the more a conclusion dawned upon him.

'Suits ye well,' he complimented with a wink.

Rubbing his face with his hand, his breath fogs against the window of the train and he turns his head away, absentmindedly wiping down the window with the sleeve of his puffer jacket. In the meantime, he busies himself looking at the empty seat opposite to him.

In the blink of an eye, you're there, sitting across from him.

'When do you get off?' he asked.

'Last stop,' you answered, 'staying at a hotel for a few days before my place is ready... was eager to leave,' you said. As soon as the words passed your lips, he felt compelled to be a gentleman. That, alongside taking into account the trouble that could have occurred if you did walk to the hotel alone, besides, the least he could have done for you buying him a drink and keeping him company was help you find you way to your hotel.

'We can share a cab if ye want,' he offered, 'put my mind at ease, wanna make sure you get there safe, besides, far too cold for ye to be walkin', bonnie,' he said, biting the inside of his mouth as he awaited your refusal, only, you nodded your head and smiled.

'I'd appreciate that, Johnny.'

His memories blur for a while after that, and his cheeks flushed red as he recalls how you looked at him before you got out of the cab. Glancing at the same hand that paid the fare only far enough to go to your hotel he curses as he watches the memory of him getting out of the taxi to chase after you.

You waited for him at the entrance in hope he'd have a change of heart, and he recalls how delighted you were when he walked through the door and caught you standing there, waiting for him.

Truthfully, he knew he was in deep shit when he felt the way you wrapped around him, the way you called his name, and how pretty you looked underneath him. Even after years, it was difficult to escape the thought of your first night together. Perhaps it was the entire being strangers thing that made the sex much more enthralling than any other one night stand he had had, or maybe it was just you.

Shoulda never let her have me number, he thought to himself.

It was difficult to deny that there were only ever terrible times. Resentment bubbles and it turns the fondest of moments to the worse; there was something there for him to miss when he thinks fondly of you. Fondness makes forgetting a hell of a lot harder, at least it does for him, anyway.

He hardly even thinks about Graves anymore and he resents him.

He resents you too.

But whenever he thinks of you, he thinks of your laughter. And then the guilt seeps in and he curses himself for ever thinking so lowly of you in the first place. How fucking dare he do something so terrible. You deserve it, though, for all the shit you put him through: the bruised heart thats still bandaged up, the sleepless nights as he waited for you to come home, the drunken phone calls he would get while on an op.

All of it.

Then there was everything else: the moments you shared together, the sound of your laughter which would seemingly travel down the halls of your apartment and wake him whenever you spent the night together, the sight of you in his shirt while cooking breakfast in the morning and your excitement when you finally persuaded him to dance with you.

The last one was particularly difficult to forget. His fondness will never let him let it go, he's convinced.

In the depths of the night, you danced together. He acknowledged the look on your face as he held you in your arms, the laughter as he spun you around in a circle, pulling you away just for you to end right back in his arms. He'd never let you wonder too far, scared that if he lost grip of your hand, you would have disappeared forever.

It became a routine and he recalls all the times he had held you in his arms while dancing to a song by Sinatra or Aretha Franklin and all the times he saw you smile. All of those happy moments moulded into one, while only a few stuck out.

During that night in particular, he couldn't look away from your eyes.

Whenever he looked at you, he was started by the glint of colours in your eyes, reflective of the colourful lights you had decorated your Christmas tree with. Rather, instead of decorating the tree, the lights in your eyes worked well in decorating the brambles you called eyelashes as you looked up at him. Every time you blinked, he found the same glossy sheen he had seen that night on the train. Every blink seemed to edge you closer to tears, as though your eyelashes were antagonising your poor eyes constantly.

Then he smelt the liquor on you breath and was reminded of the underlining truth of everything.

You were always emotional whenever you had something to drink. It couldn't have been helped, it was simply who you were, and he was going to resent you for something you couldn't have helped.

'Yer oot yer face,' he mumbled, speaking softly to you as you swayed with one another to the low hum of music from your vinyl player. Neither of you noticed how the song skipped, far too busy with one another to notice such a flaw.

'English, MacTavish,' you answered, your tone gruff as you recalled the story he had told you about the man with the skull mask and the city soaked in blood. He chuckled, pulling you closer, resting his head against your shoulder, looking at you. You turned your head to the side to look at him too.

'You're drunk,' he said quietly.

'I only had a glass,' you answered abruptly. You tensed in his arms when you responded to him and he felt his head sink further down until it sat, burning in the acid of his stomach. 'I had it while I was making dinner; the sauce had some of it in,' you explained, turning in his arms so your chests were pressed against each others. placing your hand against his face. You looked worried in that moment, observing his features. 'You're not mad at me, are you?'

Placing his hand over yours, he sighed, 'nae, bonnie, just don't want ye to hurt y'urself,' he explained, pulling your hand from off of his face, planting a kiss atop of it, moving his other hand from the small of your back to hold your waist. 'Love you too much for ye to do that,' he said, letting go of your hand to place his fingers beneath your chin, forcing your head up so you were looking at him. 'Y'know that.'

'I do,' you weakly answered.

The only bastard 'I do' he ever got from your lips. It was laughable really as he looks back on that night, how the pair of you had been so close in your home, dancing together as though you were an elderly couple celebrating your 40th wedding anniversary together.

Think I'll live that long?

Probably not.

Had anyone from 141 been there to witness how he fell to pieces with you in his arms, they very well would have laughed until they were blue in the face. And the longer he looks out the window out on the Scottish countryside, he concludes he too would laugh at that man dancing with you for being such a smitten fool.

'Good,' he hummed, pressing a kiss against your lips. The were chapped, dry, but he didn't care. Instead, he deepened the kiss as the pair of you stumbled backwards, muffled laughter escaping you as you loosely wrapped your arms around his neck while he kept the pair of you from falling.

Moments of happiness seemed so common in the beginning.

The night trains shifted to day trains again.

He'd hit the ground running after returning from an op, only showering because he didn't want you to smell the remnants of war which stained him and his skin. Nothing kept him from seeing you, not even his distaste for the day train.

All of it meant that he could get home sooner; he recalled the sinking feeling in his chest whenever the trains were delayed by a measly twenty minutes. Love made him a different man, he realised, a man who enjoyed the day train and the man who loathed the night train.

'I thought you weren't going to be home for another couple of days,' you said, opening the door to see Johnny standing there with a bag on his arm. Dropping it, he pulled you into a tight hug, resting his hand against the back of your head as he swayed you from side to side. 'Did you get the day train for me?' you asked.

Pulling away, he caught sight of the smile creeping onto you face as he nodded his head slowly, 'didn't wanna wait longer than I had to,' he answered, 'saw a photo of ye in me wallet an' knew I needed to be here with you sooner,' he added, pressing a kiss onto your lips as your cheeks flushed red.

'You have a picture of me in your wallet?' you quietly asked when he pulled away for you. He smiled.

'Of course I do, bonnie,' he responded as though such was an obvious fact, 'need to see that face of yours every day, ye like medicine to me.'

'Really?'

'Aye, lass.'

Everything moved so quickly and it wasn't long before you were well acquainted with his mam.

Meeting his mother was the confirmation he needed to say that he wanted to marry you. No one else in the world mattered when he saw how you and his sisters bonded, and while sitting alone on the train, he clenched a his fist at the emptiness of the palm of his hand while imagining the light weight of the ring his mother had placed in the palm of his hand while he stood in the kitchen helping her prepare the Christmas dinner. It had been over two years since the pair of you had started dating when she did so, working well to convince him that the timing meant that something else in the universe had willed it to happen.

'Mam?' he asked, looking down at the ring in his hand.

The band was quaint, golden as an green gem stared him in the eyes as he squinted, holding it up to the yellow light of the kitchen. The elderly woman in front of him chuckled, patting his shoulder as she walked past him to open the oven.

'Well, she's the one, ain't she?' she said, speaking into the heat of the oven as she grabbed the tray of duck-fat potatoes with a stained tea towel.

'Ye think?'

'Gonnae no’ dae that!' exclaimed his mother.

'Don't do what?' he scoffed.

'Act surprised,' she scolded, 'it's in ye eyes, son,' she chuckled. 'Yer nana told me to give ye the ring when I thought ye'd found the right one,' she confessed, 'and with your father gone, 'ave got no reason to wear it, but she has,' she uttered, looking from out of the kitchen into the living room.

His eyes followed hers and he watched as you sat with his youngest sister. The pair of you chatted away, though his stomach twisted at the sight of you holding a glass in your hand.

'She's a good girl, Johnny.'

'Aye, mam, I know.'

'So, marry her.'

With his mam's words echoing in his mind, the memories always came to the one that caused all the air in his lungs to escape.

Nothing wants to stay whenever he thinks of that, and he's sure if he was wounded, all his blood would leave him in a second in order to stay out of the cycle in his head that always brings him back to this one thought.

He supposes, in hindsight, it was terribly foolish what he had done. His ignorance to pressing issues was immature and irresponsible, only, they were easy to ignore when he had his mothers ring in his pocket. But he noticed, years down the line, how you had dropped his hand when the pair of you had been dancing, all to go and get another drink because the glass in your hand was running dry.

The party was one you both had planned, only, you had done so to celebrate a win himself and the boys had had during their time away, and he had invited everyone with the intent of proposing to the love of his life.

In the moment, he had been so crushed. He recalls how his mouth was dry, the dull ache in his cut knee as he awkwardly remained kneeled as you stood and stared. The speech he had prepared disappeared when you turned your back on him and rushed away, leaving his ego bleeding as everyone looked at him in horror.

'I just... I don't know why you would do it,' you mumbled when you heard him walk through the door into the kitchen away from the guests.

He was silent as he looked at you, traces of a storm in his eyes as he fought off the urge to cry. His chest hurt as he looked at you with a glass in your hand, and he couldn't do anything but stand there and watch as you drank from it. 'I told you, Johnny, I fucking warned you and-'

'I thought ye would've had a change of heart, love-'

'Well I haven't!' you angrily snapped, slamming your glass down onto the counter, glaring at him. 'What, did you think just because I'd have a ring on my finger all of our fuckin' issues are going to disappear? You're a smart man, Johnny, stop trying to play the role of the fool. It doesn't suit you and it never will.'

You were just as embarrassed as he was. He curses himself while sitting on the train, thinking back to your flushed cheeks and teary eyes. It wasn't only because of the booze that time, it was because of him too.

'I- I'm trying, John, can't you see that?' you croaked, 'I'm trying but I can't be everything you want. I don't wanna get married... at least not yet.'

'Ye don't love me,' he blurted.

You snapped your head up, furrowing your brows as you looked at him with wide eyes. 'Is that serious what you think?' you shakily asked, disbelief etched into your features. 'So what? You think all the fuckin' nights I've spent worried that you're not gonna come home when you're away working were for-'

'All the fuckin' nights you spent with a bottle in your hand too, eh?' he quickly cut you off, retorting in a manner that had left you breathless, draining all the colour out of your face. 'Don't pull that card on me, bonnie, don't you fuckin' dare do it 'cause I worry more about you and your drinkin' habit than I do my own life when I'm out on the field- tell me how you think that's fair!'

You stared at him, your eyes drifting to the empty glass abandoned on the counter. It was unfair for him to pull that card, he was aware enough in the moment to understand it, but he was so utterly devastated that he chose to stand his ground. An apology wouldn't have mean anything even if he had said it.

'If ye loved me... you'd stop goin' to the bottle every time ye have an issue,' he bleakly said, 'but am not even sure if you would pick me over the drink anymore, bonnie.'

'How would me saying yes to you fix any of that?'

He stayed silent.

Reflection allows him to find that he only ever proposed out of love. He was aware of your issues, noting it was never always smooth sailing from either of you, but he supposes he just wanted to have proof that at least once, you would pick him rather than the liquor.

But he was stupid for ever thinking you were more than your champagne problems.

'Getting married would only complicate things between us, John. You know that,' you said after a while of silence, 'and clearly, we don't listen to each other... I'm sorry I embarrassed you today, and I'm sorry I keep causing you to worry- I'm sorry for being such a burden to you but you don't make it easy for me,' you uttered, rubbing your face with your hands, wiping away the tears that fell down your scarlet cheeks.

There was nothing else for him to say to you, and he's ashamed at the very fact that, in the moment you needed him the most, he walked out of that room and left you there crying, alone.

As the train turns on the tracks again, he ponders what would have been different if he had stayed there with you, only, he finds his mind drifting to the words on a page which confirms exactly why he was thinking.

He was only prolonging the inevitable.

As he turns to the final page in his notebook, he finds it difficult to breath as he retrieves the piece of paper he had pushed to the back of it, unfolding it. Pressing his hand against it, he leaves it to sit on top of the page marked with splashes of the drink you had spilled, unable to find the strength as he stares down at the words scrawled on the page.

A crude reminder of what became of his engagement.

'Johnny,

In time, I hope you'll forget about all my problems and find someone who you deserve. I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused and I'm sorry for not being ready for you.

Give your mums ring to someone who deserves it and put the special ladies picture in your wallet instead of mine. For the sake of yourself and me.

I love you, Johnny, nearly too much, and while you will see my absence as cruel, know I see it as necessary and that's the issue; we never have seen eye to eye on a lot of things.

We're not ready for each other, I know you think it but you're too scared to say it, so I'll bite the bullet and say it for you. We're not ready for each other, Johnny.

Love shouldn't be a tug-of-war, and I grow tired for you watching as you always try and pull me to you. Besides, I heard your mother after you left the room, she said I was fucked in the head for not agreeing to your proposal and it leaves me wondering what type of person you've made your family believe I am.

I'm sorry I couldn't be everything you wanted, but know that everything I'm doing: leaving, writing this letter, not saying goodbye to you in person, is for you. You always said you hated goodbyes; they were the hardest part of your career, and I can't promise that I wouldn't run back into your arms the second you'd open your mouth and beg me not to go.

But I'm prolonging the inevitable by staying with you.

I'm making you miserable with my problems and that is not what I want you to do. You have a life, and you had a life before we met on that train.

All I ever did was make you worry and I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want you to worry about me, I just want you to move on and love and be loved. I'm going to work on myself and I'm going to get better because I know that that is what you want, and in truth, it's what I want too.

I love you and I fear I always will, but I can't have you, and I'm punishing you and myself by staying here.'

He turns his head away from the letter, looking back to the window at the small dots through the foggy water as he utters the last part of the letter under his breath. 'One day, we may meet again, perhaps the stars will align and you'll see me on a nighttime train back to your home town. And maybe then, I'll be ready.'

A breathy laugh escapes him, repeating 'And maybe then, I'll be ready.'

How appalling it would be when you realised that you leaving only resulted in the reversal of roles. At least, he likes to think he would have the strength to refuse you if he's to ever see you again.

When he turns away from the window, relieving himself of the pain of remembering all that has gone wrong in his life, he takes the letter from off of his notepad, folding it along the worn edges, pushing it back in a small slip at the back of the notepad.

Shrugging off his jacket, he put it on the seat beside him with a hard sigh, turning his attention back to the notepad in front of him. The nights long and his journey proceeds to drag his feet and he's unsure if he even wants to be back home or if he should have just stayed in the base until Price needed him next. But it's Christmas and he couldn't have left his family because of his own sorrow about something that happened years ago.

He just misses you more in the holidays, but he supposes that's okay as long as he doesn't let the phantom you left him with ruin everything. So, he picks up the pencil and pursues what he was doing the night you two met, only this time, there's a ghost sitting opposite to him, not the living thing that greeted him many moons ago.

His ignorance to the world around him keeps him from hearing the footsteps storming up the aisle after the train stops at a station. Even when the voice of a woman announcing the last stop enters his ears, he doesn't lift his head. All the noise culminates into a twisting storm, similar to how he imagines the billowing smoke exuding from a chimney on a winter night swirls in the wind. It's deplorable and he grunts as he attempts to chase the flurry of emotions away.

His efforts result in even more tension at the front of his mind as he looks into the eyes of the drawing he's sketching, realising just whose eyes he had depicted in the midst of his worry. Even after all the time has passed, he's impressed by the fact that he still remembers your features so well.

Always so difficult to forget, he supposes his contemplation proves such.

Then he hears it.

The very thing that works to break him free.

A quaint shaky breath.

A shadow covers his bulky frame, light peering from either side of the mass standing on the aisle holding onto the seat opposite him. Lifting his head, his lungs rattle in his chest as he realises the eyes he had been sketching in his notepad are right before him in human form, staring right back at him.

'Johnny?'

[angelicglib]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Champagne Problems ˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆

[ᴊᴏʜɴ ᴍᴀᴄᴛᴀᴠɪꜱʜ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 27/12/23

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: Reminiscing about the past always leaves a bitter taste in Johnny's mouth. Especially when those memories include you.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 5,814

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt and absolutely ZERO COMFORT!!! Mentions/ implications of alcoholism, angst, implied family issues, suggestive content.

[ᴀ/ɴ]: Pain, suffering and agony. You are welcome.

THIS IS A REPOST !! I've had few issues with shadowbans and have moved accounts a few times (tumblr thought I was a bot) so, if you would like more stories from me, my new blog is @manicrouge !!

ENJOY !!

Please do not post my work to any other platforms, thank you.

────────── ⋆⋅🚂⋅⋆ ──────────

He finds it difficult to stomach as he looks out of the window on a train. 

The return from deployment is always bittersweet. In particular, knowing he can return back to his hometown for a short while before having to eventually go back to the base.

But, all of that disappears as he’s sitting on the train, looking out the window as rain bats against it. His eyes can hardly make anything out, it’s far too dark for his eyes to make it much further than the outline of a mountain in the distance. His arms aching and he’s unsure how long he’s been looking out of it. He’s quite sure the sleeve of his jacket is completely soaked from the condensation dripping down the window, pooling on the window sill his elbow is resting on. Still, nothing changes his position, not even the shifts of the cart as it storms along the tracks. 

In his chest, he feels his heart murmur at the thought of getting closer to home.

It’s been a while. 

The silence on the train is unnerving as he turns his eyes away from the window for a moment. Across the aisle from him, there’s another traveller. His head is pressed firmly against the back of the chair as quiet snores escape his open mouth. As he focuses on him, he notes a glistening trail on his chin and grimaces, turning his eyes away from the man, directing his gaze back to the window.

Trains during the night-time are always strange, he was familiar with them when he first joined the army. Travelling to and from always seemed worse during the day, so, he'd opted to stay at the base for an extra day, leaving in the dead of night to catch the last train available home. There was no reason to leave during the day because at night, he knew he could sleep away all the worries, arriving home well rested. 

But then something changed.

After another op, he returned to his schedule of sitting on the train at night, looking down at the sketchbook resting against the table in front of him. Holding a pencil in his hand, he busied himself with a sketch of a familiar face. There were the remains of a mistake engraved into the paper, odd rolls of the rubber sitting on the bend of his notepad as he readied the eraser in his hand in preparation for another.

His tired eyes were heavy as he observed the features of the man on the page, a small grin forming on his face as he thought about the reaction from the man when he saw him again. He’d probably only nod his head at his attempts of drawing him, noting that the details of his mask were a little janky, but that wouldn’t matter; the eyes were perfect. But Johnny knew he would still lie to him because being sincere was not one of his lieutenants specialities. 

‘Do you mind if I sit here?’ 

Setting the pencil down, he raised his head to see you standing in front of him. You smiled at him with a small glass in your hand, holding the seat opposite to him to keep yourself steady. ‘It’s just cause there’s no one else here and my phone died,’ you explained, ‘I won’t make a peep, I promise,’ you added. 

With a short nod, he motions towards the chair opposite to him, moving the pencil tin above his notepad so you had some space to place down your belongings. ‘Aye,’ he says, ‘be my guest, bonnie.’ 

So, you took a seat, placing your backpack on the chair beside you, setting your glass down. He observed the colour of the liquid, the colours faint as the bubbles raise from the bottom of the small glass, dispersing at the top. He recalled how odd he thought it was when he had first seen the funny little drink on the table, only knowing the train-line to serve water and the occasional cup of tea.

‘Champagne,’ you answered, following his eyes to the glass, ‘thought I’d treat myself.' 

‘What’s the special occasion?’ he asked with a raised eyebrow, picking his pencil back up, resuming his portrait of the moody lieutenant. The train creaked at the cart turned slightly, and he caught your hand steading the drink. ‘Ye get a promotion?’ 

Looking at you again, he noted how you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip. Your eyes fell to the aisle and your chest rose as you took a deep breath. There was something about your apprehension that troubled him, the way your flushed cheeks paled left him wounded for a short while before he realised that he had no clue why he was thinking in such a manner.

It was her eyes, he reminisces while keeping his eyes trained on the window beyond the cart.

It's a bitter pill to swallow, the memories of you still wrapping around his mind as a kids train set does a families Christmas tree during the holidays. Looping round and round and round until it's put into a box. The season in his mind has lasted longer than the measly length of the month of December, spanning years (it seemed). It's torture, yet, despite it being so cruel, he dreads the arrival of the day where he finally has the courage to box you up and shove you to the back of his mind because that would be when he could begin to forget you.

Even after all the years that have passed, he finds his mouth moves as he recalls your response to his question when you had sat opposite to him on the train.

‘Moving out, actually.'

It was just as well everything happened for you on that day, you moved out the day he got the train home. Had anything been different, neither of you would have crossed paths and while agonising, he looks at the stars in the nights sky with an air of gratitude.

You admitted after a while, your eyes falling back onto him as you heaved a heavy sigh. ‘Been stuck in a shitty situation for a while, been sitting around waiting for a chance to get out of it and tonight just so happens to be the night that everything fell back into place.’

Your words haunted him during the night, appearing like a phantom in his dreams, calling out to him. The glint of gratitude in his eyes wavers.

Your words are soft as you spoke and he likened the look you gave him to one of the valleys he had witnessed when he had taken the day train home after his first deployment. A valley with a river right below it in the midst of shrubbery and trees. The water was blue, he could see it when he looked at her. The reflection of the sun reflecting off of the surface, mirroring the rocky trails of the mountains. The sight of such had left him breathless, just as you did when you took a deep breath, reaching out for her glass, bringing it to you mouth. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t be telling a stranger my problems,’ you mumbled. 

‘It’s nae an issue, lass,’ he responded, ‘happy to hear y’ got outta whatever was making ye so miserable,’ he confessed, ‘and Scotland, eh? Pretty place if y’ ask me,’ he said with a short laugh. You laughed with him before taking another sip from your drink.

He watched as you did so, noting the glint in her eyes as you moved your eyes away from him to his notebook. Pulling the glass away from your mouth, you placed it down with a hum, swallowing the last of the drink in your mouth, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. It's a charming sight, clumsy and amusing.

‘You’re good at drawing,’ you noted, pointing at the drawing, ‘is he a character of yours?’ you asked, motioning to the drawing of the man with the skull face. A short chuckle passed his lips as he rubbed the stubble on his chin. 

‘Guess ye could call him that,’ he said, 'someone I know, actually ,' he confessed.

Your brows furrowed, wrinkles forming on your forehead as your eyes grew wide. Your hand ghosted the glass, wetting your fingers with the condensation dripping down the outside as you looked at him with glossy eyes. Fingerprints marked the glass as you forced your hand away.

'I'm so so sorry- I didn't mean it as an insult it's just-'

'Keep the heid, lass,' laughed the man.

You stared at him.

'Relax,' he said, noting the confusion on your face. Your tensed muscles softened as your picked up the glass off of the table, taking a big gulp, finishing the last of the contents in it. He frowns when he notices you shaking. You thought you had done so much wrong with a single observation. 'you weren't to know.'

'Does he really wear that mask?' you whispered as though Simon was right behind you, and had he been, Johnny could say with his heart that he wouldn't have been surprised; the damn man appeared out of nowhere all the time.

'Yeah,' he said.

'Is it part of his job?'

Your intrigue was adorable.

'No, he just prefers to hide his face,' he explained, 'suppose it makes work easier,' he said, nodding to himself. Despite his time knowing Simon, he never did know why he covered his face. Of course, it kept the human version of the man from the man who committed countless atrocities in the name of justice, yet, the point you brought up left him thinking for a short moment.

'You work together?' you asked, 'what do you do for work?'

'Part of the military,' he told you frankly, 'he's my lieutenant,' he added, although, he didn't care to tell you much more as he looked at the you with a furrowed brow, not wanting to leave you with enough time to respond to his confession, 'what about you, lass?'

'I write,' you said, 'I got a remote position at a publishing company, that's whats given me the money to move out.'

'I enjoy writin' from time to time,' he responded, 'not that good at it though, prefer drawing,' he uttered.

You were though, he didn't even bothers to think of your response because, truthfully, your humbleness in terms of your own talent was wounding to his own love for writing. As he would with advertisements, inwardly, he skips by all the small talk in his mind. It's cruel the way the mind works; memory was a burden to hold, yet as entertaining as a late night TV show which was to only be watched in secrecy.

'What's your name?' you asked, picking up another cup of champagne. He watched as you did so, lifting his own cup that you had gotten for him when you had excused yourself to the bathroom.

He kept his distaste of the beverage to himself, besides, it was free.

'Johnny,' he answered, ' and y'urself, bonnie?'

You answer accordingly, stating your name with a smile. Repeating your name, he finds it rolls off his tongue well and the longer he observes you, the more a conclusion dawned upon him.

'Suits ye well,' he complimented with a wink.

Rubbing his face with his hand, his breath fogs against the window of the train and he turns his head away, absentmindedly wiping down the window with the sleeve of his puffer jacket. In the meantime, he busies himself looking at the empty seat opposite to him.

In the blink of an eye, you're there, sitting across from him.

'When do you get off?' he asked.

'Last stop,' you answered, 'staying at a hotel for a few days before my place is ready... was eager to leave,' you said. As soon as the words passed your lips, he felt compelled to be a gentleman. That, alongside taking into account the trouble that could have occurred if you did walk to the hotel alone, besides, the least he could have done for you buying him a drink and keeping him company was help you find you way to your hotel.

'We can share a cab if ye want,' he offered, 'put my mind at ease, wanna make sure you get there safe, besides, far too cold for ye to be walkin', bonnie,' he said, biting the inside of his mouth as he awaited your refusal, only, you nodded your head and smiled.

'I'd appreciate that, Johnny.'

His memories blur for a while after that, and his cheeks flushed red as he recalls how you looked at him before you got out of the cab. Glancing at the same hand that paid the fare only far enough to go to your hotel he curses as he watches the memory of him getting out of the taxi to chase after you.

You waited for him at the entrance in hope he'd have a change of heart, and he recalls how delighted you were when he walked through the door and caught you standing there, waiting for him.

Truthfully, he knew he was in deep shit when he felt the way you wrapped around him, the way you called his name, and how pretty you looked underneath him. Even after years, it was difficult to escape the thought of your first night together. Perhaps it was the entire being strangers thing that made the sex much more enthralling than any other one night stand he had had, or maybe it was just you.

Shoulda never let her have me number, he thought to himself.

It was difficult to deny that there were only ever terrible times. Resentment bubbles and it turns the fondest of moments to the worse; there was something there for him to miss when he thinks fondly of you. Fondness makes forgetting a hell of a lot harder, at least it does for him, anyway.

He hardly even thinks about Graves anymore and he resents him.

He resents you too.

But whenever he thinks of you, he thinks of your laughter. And then the guilt seeps in and he curses himself for ever thinking so lowly of you in the first place. How fucking dare he do something so terrible. You deserve it, though, for all the shit you put him through: the bruised heart thats still bandaged up, the sleepless nights as he waited for you to come home, the drunken phone calls he would get while on an op.

All of it.

Then there was everything else: the moments you shared together, the sound of your laughter which would seemingly travel down the halls of your apartment and wake him whenever you spent the night together, the sight of you in his shirt while cooking breakfast in the morning and your excitement when you finally persuaded him to dance with you.

The last one was particularly difficult to forget. His fondness will never let him let it go, he's convinced.

In the depths of the night, you danced together. He acknowledged the look on your face as he held you in your arms, the laughter as he spun you around in a circle, pulling you away just for you to end right back in his arms. He'd never let you wonder too far, scared that if he lost grip of your hand, you would have disappeared forever.

It became a routine and he recalls all the times he had held you in his arms while dancing to a song by Sinatra or Aretha Franklin and all the times he saw you smile. All of those happy moments moulded into one, while only a few stuck out.

During that night in particular, he couldn't look away from your eyes.

Whenever he looked at you, he was started by the glint of colours in your eyes, reflective of the colourful lights you had decorated your Christmas tree with. Rather, instead of decorating the tree, the lights in your eyes worked well in decorating the brambles you called eyelashes as you looked up at him. Every time you blinked, he found the same glossy sheen he had seen that night on the train. Every blink seemed to edge you closer to tears, as though your eyelashes were antagonising your poor eyes constantly.

Then he smelt the liquor on you breath and was reminded of the underlining truth of everything.

You were always emotional whenever you had something to drink. It couldn't have been helped, it was simply who you were, and he was going to resent you for something you couldn't have helped.

'Yer oot yer face,' he mumbled, speaking softly to you as you swayed with one another to the low hum of music from your vinyl player. Neither of you noticed how the song skipped, far too busy with one another to notice such a flaw.

'English, MacTavish,' you answered, your tone gruff as you recalled the story he had told you about the man with the skull mask and the city soaked in blood. He chuckled, pulling you closer, resting his head against your shoulder, looking at you. You turned your head to the side to look at him too.

'You're drunk,' he said quietly.

'I only had a glass,' you answered abruptly. You tensed in his arms when you responded to him and he felt his head sink further down until it sat, burning in the acid of his stomach. 'I had it while I was making dinner; the sauce had some of it in,' you explained, turning in his arms so your chests were pressed against each others. placing your hand against his face. You looked worried in that moment, observing his features. 'You're not mad at me, are you?'

Placing his hand over yours, he sighed, 'nae, bonnie, just don't want ye to hurt y'urself,' he explained, pulling your hand from off of his face, planting a kiss atop of it, moving his other hand from the small of your back to hold your waist. 'Love you too much for ye to do that,' he said, letting go of your hand to place his fingers beneath your chin, forcing your head up so you were looking at him. 'Y'know that.'

'I do,' you weakly answered.

The only bastard 'I do' he ever got from your lips. It was laughable really as he looks back on that night, how the pair of you had been so close in your home, dancing together as though you were an elderly couple celebrating your 40th wedding anniversary together.

Think I'll live that long?

Probably not.

Had anyone from 141 been there to witness how he fell to pieces with you in his arms, they very well would have laughed until they were blue in the face. And the longer he looks out the window out on the Scottish countryside, he concludes he too would laugh at that man dancing with you for being such a smitten fool.

'Good,' he hummed, pressing a kiss against your lips. The were chapped, dry, but he didn't care. Instead, he deepened the kiss as the pair of you stumbled backwards, muffled laughter escaping you as you loosely wrapped your arms around his neck while he kept the pair of you from falling.

Moments of happiness seemed so common in the beginning.

The night trains shifted to day trains again.

He'd hit the ground running after returning from an op, only showering because he didn't want you to smell the remnants of war which stained him and his skin. Nothing kept him from seeing you, not even his distaste for the day train.

All of it meant that he could get home sooner; he recalled the sinking feeling in his chest whenever the trains were delayed by a measly twenty minutes. Love made him a different man, he realised, a man who enjoyed the day train and the man who loathed the night train.

'I thought you weren't going to be home for another couple of days,' you said, opening the door to see Johnny standing there with a bag on his arm. Dropping it, he pulled you into a tight hug, resting his hand against the back of your head as he swayed you from side to side. 'Did you get the day train for me?' you asked.

Pulling away, he caught sight of the smile creeping onto you face as he nodded his head slowly, 'didn't wanna wait longer than I had to,' he answered, 'saw a photo of ye in me wallet an' knew I needed to be here with you sooner,' he added, pressing a kiss onto your lips as your cheeks flushed red.

'You have a picture of me in your wallet?' you quietly asked when he pulled away for you. He smiled.

'Of course I do, bonnie,' he responded as though such was an obvious fact, 'need to see that face of yours every day, ye like medicine to me.'

'Really?'

'Aye, lass.'

Everything moved so quickly and it wasn't long before you were well acquainted with his mam.

Meeting his mother was the confirmation he needed to say that he wanted to marry you. No one else in the world mattered when he saw how you and his sisters bonded, and while sitting alone on the train, he clenched a his fist at the emptiness of the palm of his hand while imagining the light weight of the ring his mother had placed in the palm of his hand while he stood in the kitchen helping her prepare the Christmas dinner. It had been over two years since the pair of you had started dating when she did so, working well to convince him that the timing meant that something else in the universe had willed it to happen.

'Mam?' he asked, looking down at the ring in his hand.

The band was quaint, golden as an green gem stared him in the eyes as he squinted, holding it up to the yellow light of the kitchen. The elderly woman in front of him chuckled, patting his shoulder as she walked past him to open the oven.

'Well, she's the one, ain't she?' she said, speaking into the heat of the oven as she grabbed the tray of duck-fat potatoes with a stained tea towel.

'Ye think?'

'Gonnae no’ dae that!' exclaimed his mother.

'Don't do what?' he scoffed.

'Act surprised,' she scolded, 'it's in ye eyes, son,' she chuckled. 'Yer nana told me to give ye the ring when I thought ye'd found the right one,' she confessed, 'and with your father gone, 'ave got no reason to wear it, but she has,' she uttered, looking from out of the kitchen into the living room.

His eyes followed hers and he watched as you sat with his youngest sister. The pair of you chatted away, though his stomach twisted at the sight of you holding a glass in your hand.

'She's a good girl, Johnny.'

'Aye, mam, I know.'

'So, marry her.'

With his mam's words echoing in his mind, the memories always came to the one that caused all the air in his lungs to escape.

Nothing wants to stay whenever he thinks of that, and he's sure if he was wounded, all his blood would leave him in a second in order to stay out of the cycle in his head that always brings him back to this one thought.

He supposes, in hindsight, it was terribly foolish what he had done. His ignorance to pressing issues was immature and irresponsible, only, they were easy to ignore when he had his mothers ring in his pocket. But he noticed, years down the line, how you had dropped his hand when the pair of you had been dancing, all to go and get another drink because the glass in your hand was running dry.

The party was one you both had planned, only, you had done so to celebrate a win himself and the boys had had during their time away, and he had invited everyone with the intent of proposing to the love of his life.

In the moment, he had been so crushed. He recalls how his mouth was dry, the dull ache in his cut knee as he awkwardly remained kneeled as you stood and stared. The speech he had prepared disappeared when you turned your back on him and rushed away, leaving his ego bleeding as everyone looked at him in horror.

'I just... I don't know why you would do it,' you mumbled when you heard him walk through the door into the kitchen away from the guests.

He was silent as he looked at you, traces of a storm in his eyes as he fought off the urge to cry. His chest hurt as he looked at you with a glass in your hand, and he couldn't do anything but stand there and watch as you drank from it. 'I told you, Johnny, I fucking warned you and-'

'I thought ye would've had a change of heart, love-'

'Well I haven't!' you angrily snapped, slamming your glass down onto the counter, glaring at him. 'What, did you think just because I'd have a ring on my finger all of our fuckin' issues are going to disappear? You're a smart man, Johnny, stop trying to play the role of the fool. It doesn't suit you and it never will.'

You were just as embarrassed as he was. He curses himself while sitting on the train, thinking back to your flushed cheeks and teary eyes. It wasn't only because of the booze that time, it was because of him too.

'I- I'm trying, John, can't you see that?' you croaked, 'I'm trying but I can't be everything you want. I don't wanna get married... at least not yet.'

'Ye don't love me,' he blurted.

You snapped your head up, furrowing your brows as you looked at him with wide eyes. 'Is that serious what you think?' you shakily asked, disbelief etched into your features. 'So what? You think all the fuckin' nights I've spent worried that you're not gonna come home when you're away working were for-'

'All the fuckin' nights you spent with a bottle in your hand too, eh?' he quickly cut you off, retorting in a manner that had left you breathless, draining all the colour out of your face. 'Don't pull that card on me, bonnie, don't you fuckin' dare do it 'cause I worry more about you and your drinkin' habit than I do my own life when I'm out on the field- tell me how you think that's fair!'

You stared at him, your eyes drifting to the empty glass abandoned on the counter. It was unfair for him to pull that card, he was aware enough in the moment to understand it, but he was so utterly devastated that he chose to stand his ground. An apology wouldn't have mean anything even if he had said it.

'If ye loved me... you'd stop goin' to the bottle every time ye have an issue,' he bleakly said, 'but am not even sure if you would pick me over the drink anymore, bonnie.'

'How would me saying yes to you fix any of that?'

He stayed silent.

Reflection allows him to find that he only ever proposed out of love. He was aware of your issues, noting it was never always smooth sailing from either of you, but he supposes he just wanted to have proof that at least once, you would pick him rather than the liquor.

But he was stupid for ever thinking you were more than your champagne problems.

'Getting married would only complicate things between us, John. You know that,' you said after a while of silence, 'and clearly, we don't listen to each other... I'm sorry I embarrassed you today, and I'm sorry I keep causing you to worry- I'm sorry for being such a burden to you but you don't make it easy for me,' you uttered, rubbing your face with your hands, wiping away the tears that fell down your scarlet cheeks.

There was nothing else for him to say to you, and he's ashamed at the very fact that, in the moment you needed him the most, he walked out of that room and left you there crying, alone.

As the train turns on the tracks again, he ponders what would have been different if he had stayed there with you, only, he finds his mind drifting to the words on a page which confirms exactly why he was thinking.

He was only prolonging the inevitable.

As he turns to the final page in his notebook, he finds it difficult to breath as he retrieves the piece of paper he had pushed to the back of it, unfolding it. Pressing his hand against it, he leaves it to sit on top of the page marked with splashes of the drink you had spilled, unable to find the strength as he stares down at the words scrawled on the page.

A crude reminder of what became of his engagement.

'Johnny,

In time, I hope you'll forget about all my problems and find someone who you deserve. I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused and I'm sorry for not being ready for you.

Give your mums ring to someone who deserves it and put the special ladies picture in your wallet instead of mine. For the sake of yourself and me.

I love you, Johnny, nearly too much, and while you will see my absence as cruel, know I see it as necessary and that's the issue; we never have seen eye to eye on a lot of things.

We're not ready for each other, I know you think it but you're too scared to say it, so I'll bite the bullet and say it for you. We're not ready for each other, Johnny.

Love shouldn't be a tug-of-war, and I grow tired for you watching as you always try and pull me to you. Besides, I heard your mother after you left the room, she said I was fucked in the head for not agreeing to your proposal and it leaves me wondering what type of person you've made your family believe I am.

I'm sorry I couldn't be everything you wanted, but know that everything I'm doing: leaving, writing this letter, not saying goodbye to you in person, is for you. You always said you hated goodbyes; they were the hardest part of your career, and I can't promise that I wouldn't run back into your arms the second you'd open your mouth and beg me not to go.

But I'm prolonging the inevitable by staying with you.

I'm making you miserable with my problems and that is not what I want you to do. You have a life, and you had a life before we met on that train.

All I ever did was make you worry and I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want you to worry about me, I just want you to move on and love and be loved. I'm going to work on myself and I'm going to get better because I know that that is what you want, and in truth, it's what I want too.

I love you and I fear I always will, but I can't have you, and I'm punishing you and myself by staying here.'

He turns his head away from the letter, looking back to the window at the small dots through the foggy water as he utters the last part of the letter under his breath. 'One day, we may meet again, perhaps the stars will align and you'll see me on a nighttime train back to your home town. And maybe then, I'll be ready.'

A breathy laugh escapes him, repeating 'And maybe then, I'll be ready.'

How appalling it would be when you realised that you leaving only resulted in the reversal of roles. At least, he likes to think he would have the strength to refuse you if he's to ever see you again.

When he turns away from the window, relieving himself of the pain of remembering all that has gone wrong in his life, he takes the letter from off of his notepad, folding it along the worn edges, pushing it back in a small slip at the back of the notepad.

Shrugging off his jacket, he put it on the seat beside him with a hard sigh, turning his attention back to the notepad in front of him. The nights long and his journey proceeds to drag his feet and he's unsure if he even wants to be back home or if he should have just stayed in the base until Price needed him next. But it's Christmas and he couldn't have left his family because of his own sorrow about something that happened years ago.

He just misses you more in the holidays, but he supposes that's okay as long as he doesn't let the phantom you left him with ruin everything. So, he picks up the pencil and pursues what he was doing the night you two met, only this time, there's a ghost sitting opposite to him, not the living thing that greeted him many moons ago.

His ignorance to the world around him keeps him from hearing the footsteps storming up the aisle after the train stops at a station. Even when the voice of a woman announcing the last stop enters his ears, he doesn't lift his head. All the noise culminates into a twisting storm, similar to how he imagines the billowing smoke exuding from a chimney on a winter night swirls in the wind. It's deplorable and he grunts as he attempts to chase the flurry of emotions away.

His efforts result in even more tension at the front of his mind as he looks into the eyes of the drawing he's sketching, realising just whose eyes he had depicted in the midst of his worry. Even after all the time has passed, he's impressed by the fact that he still remembers your features so well.

Always so difficult to forget, he supposes his contemplation proves such.

Then he hears it.

The very thing that works to break him free.

A quaint shaky breath.

A shadow covers his bulky frame, light peering from either side of the mass standing on the aisle holding onto the seat opposite him. Lifting his head, his lungs rattle in his chest as he realises the eyes he had been sketching in his notepad are right before him in human form, staring right back at him.

'Johnny?'

────────── ⋆⋅🚂⋅⋆ ──────────

[concert-bflat]

"I know I'm not suited for battle... But I just had to see what it would look like! Hehe..." [Repost because tumblr shadowbanned me the first time and I’m actually kinda proud of this one :’D] 

alt:

[vaniliens]

Vanillas' Blog!! Number 2!!! Wahoo!!!

Nia / Vanillas / Vaniliens • Any Pronouns

Old Blog (@vaniliens-archive) | Carrd (WIP) | Milgram Off Voice Playlist | Editing Blog (@eebydeepers)

Art on blog theme by Negiyan and sourced from Satsuten! (Edited by me)

Please do not repost my stuff without permission‼️

Tags

#nillas - Talk / Text post tag!

#vanili powder - Rant / Vent / Salty shit!

#my manga coloring - Stuff i colored! Even if its not manga.

#my ocs - Stuff relating to my ocs! You will never hear nor see of them! Mostly just posts that remind me of them.

#spiralling - Dont worry about it. Yea there's 2 L's one for me one for that guy. Im putting this here out on public so you can filter it out if you want.

Blog Notes

Not an exclusionist, block me if you are one, i do not want to deal with you people im actually sick of you.

This is a multi-fandom blog, the major fandoms being: Fairy Tail, Milgram, Zero Escape, Angels of Death / Satsuriku no Tenshi, & Evillious Chronicles but I'll reblog other stuff too!!!!! Even stuff im not familiar with!!!!

Yea now that i mentioned evillious let me state this rq; i tag evillious / series of evil as its own series, separate to vocaloid, along with all the characters & voice synths 🫡 But no other series. Unless its kagepro but that ones obvious.

Every other character without a last name would get their series' name (usually shortened) at the end / beginning (#Clover 999 or #Fairy Tail Happy)

Also, specifically for FT characters, if they dont have a last name but have a well-known alias, their tag would be [Alias] / [Name] or [Name] / [Alias] (depends on whichever one we were introduced to first) (ex. #Cobra / Erik)

Speaking of FT, the sequel (100yq) is grouped in the same tag as the general fairy tail tag. But i have specific tags for each game. Will change once the 100yq anime is out

Big fan of Lucy & Lisanna not a big fan of Nalu & the other big ships except Jerza. FAIRY TAIL FANS do not be surprised of that!!! I will not be that much of a hater since i dont care but I will still complain sometimes.

I got shadowbanned for using a VPN while on Tumblr once and support will not reply to my tickets to be un-shadowbanned so heres a second blog!!! Let this be a lesson!!!

Also i softblock a lot don't take it personally. You're Free to block me for any reason too idc 👍

Feel free to tag me in stuff even if we're not familiar with eachother / not mutuals!! i love tags,,,, this is a plea for you to tag me in stuff please tag me in stuff send me asks anything please

Also you're free to send a dm or ask to tell me to tag things;;;;; Because i usually dont unless its nsfw or really triggering

[verdanabdit]

Tag masterpost & Info

First and foremost: To try to get around Tumblr's auto-flagging system that would get me shadowbanned, I'll be censoring all d☆rty words, and all mentions of the terms SS/FF/WW and NN/SS/FF/WW will be substituted with the rot13 equivalents "FSJ" and "AFSJ". FSJ and AFSJ will have separate tags because I personally prefer being able to filter out the h☆rny sometimes. I won't be using the labels feature because that'd just be telling on myself. Besides, this is fontcest; if you're in for a penny, you're in for a pound. I don't use nicknames for AUs very often, so mind the tags to figure out which I'm talking about. (Sometimes it's vaguely either-or)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pairings

All of these are same-universe brother/brother inc☆st. Please block me and the tags if they trouble you.

If any give the result "Page cannot be found", it probably means that I just haven't posted anything with that tag yet, rather than the hotlink being broken.

Undertale (All)

Undertale (FSJ)

Undertale (AFSJ)

Underfell (All)

Underfell (FSJ)

Underfell (AFSJ)

Underswap (All)

Underswap (FSJ)

Underswap (AFSJ)

Swapfell Red (All)

Swapfell Red (FSJ)

Swapfell Red (AFSJ)

Swapfell Purple (All)

Swapfell Purple (FSJ)

Swapfell Purple (AFSJ)

Fellswap Gold (All)

Fellswap Gold (FSJ)

Fellswap Gold (AFSJ)

Horrortale (All)

Horrortale (FSJ)

Horrortale (AFSJ)

Underlust (All)

Underlust (FSJ)

Underlust (AFSJ)

G (All) (? Whatever it is where Sans and Papyrus have fused with Gaster?)

G (FSJ)

G (AFSJ)

Deltarune

Deltarune (FSJ)

Deltarune (AFSJ)

Vague pairing (All) (Vague enough that it could be any of the above, usually referring to them as energetic brother/lazy brother. Will still be tagged as fontcest for visibility.)

Vague pairing (FSJ)

Vague pairing (AFSJ)

Pairing traits Separated into both character specific and personality specific for your tastes! I know the latter half aren't grammatically correct but I don't want to disrupt the grammatically correct tags. These are mostly for avoiding the ones you don't like, as they aren't in use on FSJ posts or posts where it doesn't specify who has what role. (I asked if I should change this for individual pairing tags reflecting those that Japanese users utilize, such as HoneyBerry or BerryHoney, but I got no response.)

Dom Sans

Sub Sans

Dom Papyrus

Sub Papyrus

Dom Lazy

Sub Lazy

Dom Energetic

Sub Energetic

Post types

Open prompt / Imagine (All)

Open prompt / Imagine (FSJ)

Open prompt / Imagine (AFSJ)

Art

Observations & headcanons (Usually can be read platonically)

Unfinished fanfic (All)

Unfinished fanfic (FSJ)

Unfinished fanfic (AFSJ)

Finished fanfic (All)

Finished fanfic (FSJ)

Finished fanfic (AFSJ)

Off topic (Not really content, and either not related or mostly unrelated to Undertale)

Asides (Related to Undertale, but not substantial enough to really tag it with anything else)

Info under Read More / Keep Reading.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Info

I'm reposting things from my Tw☆tter because Tw☆tter is constantly on the verge of collapse, and I got frustrated with how difficult it was to find other peoples' posts on Tw☆tter. I wanted to be able to easily find their prompts, imagines, daydreams, etc. but it's pretty impossible once an account has like 20,000 tweets. So I wanted to collect all of mine in one place, since it's what I would have wanted others to do too. (Let it be encouragement, maybe? I want to read all your fontcest thoughts.)

I would just move here from Tw☆tter, but Tumblr banned the you-know-what in 2018 and all the real activity is on Tw☆tter. If the ban never happened, I would have never left Tumblr in the first place. And they're never going to un-ban it. But because I'm not posting AFSJ in a visual medium, I should be alright to post here at least.

If any of my silly little thoughts inspire you, please use them. I can't write much, so they'll do nothing but sit here. If the same prompt inspires more than one person… then let there be as many cakes as everyone wants to bake! No credit necessary, but appreciated.

Even if something isn't tagged as vaguecest, do feel free to switch names around or whatever to imagine your AU of choice if the prompt seems like it could fit them, too. I actually struggle a bit with some classic fontcest prompts because I feel like it might fit more than one.

I don't think anyone here would really want to talk to me, but if you ever send me a message and I don't reply for a long time, you can probably safely assume that Tumblr ate it or shadowbanned me, so I never actually received the messages. You can send anon messages on c☆riouscat or message me on Tw☆tter. I use the same name everywhere, so those pages are pretty easy to find. (I won't be linking to them because Tumblr doesn't like external links.)

(Last minute addition: I can't reblog certain art without getting my blog flagged, but I can like whatever posts I want, so here's a link to my likes which is basically all the art I would have wanted to reblog.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please remember to always tag your pairings and content properly so everyone can either find the things they like, or avoid the things that upset them.

(I have blocked all pairing tags that aren't same-universe brother pairs. Please don't intentionally show me any iterations of the skeletons paired with someone who isn't their brother. I am a weenie whose dumb heart hurts to see their OTPs with other people.)

[hwanami]

wanderlust

pairing: jeong yunho x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2524 words

summary: one day yunho decided to wander around place he has never been before. he didn’t know it would change his life for a long time

a/n: TESTING MY TUMBLR ;_____; so *sigh* i think my account got shadowbanned for quite some times. i am used to not getting many notes, but for the past last posts, it’s like no one even find my post tho i put tags there. getting less notes and getting only 2 notes is a noticeable different and the most noticeable one is that i always tag my network on tags and they always repost it after a few days. but the last several post, they didn’t until months and there’s no way it was intentional and only possible if they don’t find my post on the network tags. at first, just shadowban and then they remove my dm feature and i still think maybe “it’s a new update + i’m getting shadowband” but then one night my account randomly got terminated. i filled their contact support form, tag tumblr on my other social media and after a few days, they finally responded and give me back my account. so with this post, i want to share a new fic plus testing if my account is still shaowbanned :” sorry for the long note... NOW ONTO THE FIC

warning: mention of bleeding

Yunho opens both of his eyes. The sun rays from the window waking him up from his slumber. He sits down and sighs. It’s been a week since he walks away from his home. Leaving behind his childhood, his family. Why did he do that again? Ah, right. Because he doesn’t want to own his father’s business. Because he’s tired being treated nice just because he comes from a wealthy family. Because he just wants to be himself and not tied to his family’s status for once in his life.

He looks at himself in the mirror once he finished taking a shower. His fingers tried to do his tie (which he fails) before he decided to ditch that thing from his look. If he didn’t runaway, he would be eating breakfast with his mom while getting ready to go his dad’s office. The skyscraper building that he always finds intimidating since he was a child. But here he is, in a small room, a random landlord thankfully willing to give to him. And thankfully enough, the landlord is a kind old lady who gives him some foods she cooks too.

“Good morning, Mrs. Choi,” Yunho greets as he bows to his landlord.

“Oh, Yunho! Come, sit here. I cook chicken soup today.”

“Ah, thank you so much, Mrs. Choi. I will pay these foods back, I promise.”

“What are you saying? You don’t have to pay for them!”

A thin smile forms on his face, “I have to. Once I get a job, I’ll make sure to pay it back for you.”

“Right, how’s your job seeking?”

Yunho hummed, the smile turns into a tired one, “it’s kind of hard getting a job since there isn’t much vacancy around.”

Mrs. Choi nods her head, “even in a big city, it is hard to find a job these days. Moreover,” she looks at the young adult eating in front of her, “you move into a much smaller cities than your hometown. It is way harder to get a job here.”

“Right,” Yunho chuckles, “but I’ll get a job soon. I will try my best to get one.”

“If you want to, you can try going to the West part of the city.”

Yunho furrows his eyebrows. Considering he lives in the East, it would be hard to get to the West. Other than the distance, he still not quite knows the route in the East. Wouldn’t he get lost in the West?

Mrs. Choi smiles as she shakes her head seeing the pout in Yunho’s lips, “young man, if you really want to get a job, couldn’t you at least do that much? Going a little mile to get one.”

“Of course, I can,” Yunho sighs, “I was just… scared of getting lost there.”

“Not all who wanders are lost,” Mrs. Choi smiled at him, “who knows you can find a job when you’re getting lost.”

Hearing that, Yunho laughs. “You’re right, Mrs. Choi. I think I will try to go there today.”

“If you want to go to the West, I suggest you to take the subway instead of the bus. The bus might be faster, but they only come once per hour. While the subway come several times in an hour.”

“Oh, thank you so much for all your help, Mrs. Choi!”

“I hope you’re getting what you need!” said Mrs. Choi as Yunho hurries to walk out from her house.

“I hope so!” Yunho shouts as he walks away.

Once the door closed, Mrs. Choi smiles, “I hope he finds whatever he needs to find.”

Yunho rushes to the station. Thanks to his long legs, he can run fast and reach the station fast. He got in the subway just in time and he heaves a sigh when he gets in. Looking around, he looks at the route and counting how many stations he needs to passed through.

“5 stations…” he mumbles.

Now, here is another flaw about Jeong Yunho. He spaces out even after he passed his destinated station. After realizing it, he quickly gets out and look around for information. He looks at the route board and realizes he missed 2 stations. Yunho sighs but instead of going back, he walks out from the station and looks around. He doesn’t know why his feet decided to do that either.

He wanders around the city his feet never landed on before. His mind wanders even further as he walks. It feels like he’s in a whole another world from the world he grows up at. The buildings aren’t as high as the skyscraper where his father works. The road filled with greener leaves than the ones he walked through when he went home from school. And the air feels lighter to breathe.

For a moment, Yunho stops his step, close his eyes, and breathe in the air as much as he can. He just heaves a long sigh when suddenly someone bumps him hard from the back, making him stumbled and fell to the ground.

“Oh my god!” you gasp as you scrunch down to look at the stranger in pain you just bump, “a-are you okay?”

“No,” Yunho mumbles before screeching in pain.

You look at his hand and see the fresh red liquid coming out from his skin, “oh no, you’re bleeding.”

“Yeah, that’s why I said I’m not okay.”

“I’m so sorry, I was running a-and–”

“Are you late for something?” Yunho asks as he finally looks at you.

No wonder it hurts, you just bump into a beautiful statue, you thought to yourself momentarily. Yunho looks at you, confused as to why are you spacing out seeing him.

“Hello?”

“Yes?” you blink your eyes. Yunho chuckles, “are you late for something? It’s because you were running so I assume you’re late.”

“Right,” you heaved an annoyed sigh, “I was late but look,” you pointed at the book store just a few steps away from where you two are, “I work there. That’s why I ran faster since I’m getting close to where I work. I didn’t see you stood there. I’m so sorry.”

You peeked at his hands, “are you going somewhere? If not, you can come to the bookstore and wash your scar.”

“Yeah, good idea,” you help him standing up and dusting his clothes.

The two of you walk in and you were met by your co-worker glare, “did you miss your alarm again?”

You opened your mouth to answer but the tall stranger beats you to it, “oh, no. She didn’t. I just happened to get into accident and she helped me since I’m not coming from here so I don’t know where to go.”

Your co-worker blinked and notice the fresh untreated scars on the man’s hand, “good lord. Sir, you’re bleeding!”

Yunho chuckles, “yeah, that’s why she took me here. She said I can use the sink to wash my scar.”

“Of course, you can! The toilet is that way,” your co-worker points at the direction and Yunho nods at her before going to the toilet.

“What are you doing?” your co-worker asks you.

You look at her, then to the book shelf, then to her again, “doing my job?”

“Go get first aid kit! That man needs to be treated. Didn’t you see his scars?”

“Ah, yeah,” you nod your head, “may I do that?”

“Why are you even asking? Of course, you may! He’s hurt for god’s sake!”

“Well, I was late. So I thought I should do my task as soon as I–”

“Enough talking. Help that man first. He will scare our customer with his scars.”

“Alright, alright,” you sigh before leaving your co-worker and take the first aid kit. The stranger walks out from the toilet just right at the time you get the first aid kit box.

“Thank you for letting me use the sink,” he says with a smile. You look at his hand and how he covers it with tissues. Looks like he (you) scratched both of his hands with the fall. His clothes also got stained by the blood and you sigh at the sight of that. How could you cause that much damage on a much bigger man than you when you just bumped into him?

“Follow me. We need to treat your scars first.”

“Oh, there’s no need for–”

“Come on. You can get infections if we don’t treat them now.”

Yunho closes his mouth then follows you to the staff room. You pull a chair and ask him to sit, which he complies. Slowly, you take off the tissues and took an alcohol swab.

“It will stink a little,” you warn before gently wiping his scar.

Yunho gritted his teeth while holding the pain. You peek at him before focusing on the scars again, “I’m sorry for causing you… this.”

He smiles, “apology accepted.”

You chuckled as your hands took a betadine from the first aid kit box, “this one will hurt more. So, please bear with it for a little more.”

“You know, I– ACK,” Yunho hisses after that, making you stop moving your hand and look at him worriedly. Yunho chuckles, “I was about to say I know it will hurt so you don’t have to remind me all the time.”

“Well,” you chuckle, “I was just telling you so you’d get ready for the pain.”

“Okay, now the last step,” you mumble as you put the betadine back and take a gauze bandage to cover his scars. Suddenly, a thought crosses your mind, “why were you just standing there in the middle of the sidewalk? You know, it’s quite busy hour. Many people walk by. You can get into this kind of accident even if it wasn’t with me.”

Yunho hums, “I was getting some fresh air.”

You snorted, “you sound like someone who comes from a crowd city and not here.”

He looks at you in silence hearing it. Making you look at him since he’s not answering. Finally noticing he’s looking at you all along, you darted your eyes on his scars again and hoping he doesn’t see your cheeks turn red, “w-well, the air here has always been like this.”

“Lucky,” he mumbles, “the air is heavy where I come from.”

“So you’re not coming from here…”

“Mhm,” Yunho nodded his head.

“So, where do you come from?”

“I’d rather not say…” he answers with a heavy tone. It makes him uncomfortable talking about where he comes from. But at the same time, he feels rude for not answering your question.

“Okay,” you reply with a light tone, “I won’t force you to tell me if you don’t want to.”

He smiles before looking down to the scars that has been treated. The fact that you didn’t push him further to talk makes him feel relieved.

“Mind to tell me why are you here if you’re not from here?”

“I’m looking for a job. I’ve been seeking for a week in this city but,” he sighs, “I haven’t gotten any.”

“You’re looking for a job?” you look at him after you finish wrapping the scars on his other hand.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “my landlord told me to try looking for one around here. Well, not really ‘here’ here – I actually missed the station and got lost here. But she said the West probably has more offer than jobs at the East.”

You hum, “what a coincidence,” you mumble. Making the man blink his eyes.

“Just two blocks from here, my acquaintance just opened a café. He still needs some help and he’s been asking me if I have friends who’s seeking for a job. But all of my friends who are still talking with me are employed in a bigger and better place already.”

“A café?” he’s making sure, to which you affirm it with a nod.

“If you want, we can go there during lunch. I will introduce you to him. But are you okay staying here for a while? Or would you rather walk around here? Who knows you’ll see another offer.”

“I think, I’ll stay here. There’s not much I can do either with this,” he shows both of his hands that are covered with bandage.

“Right,” you nod your head, feeling guilty for it, “well, then you can look around. Seeing the books here.”

“Okay. And you should get going to work too.”

“Right,” you chuckle.

“Oh, by the way,” the stranger says right before you walk out from the staff room. You look at him, raising one of your eyebrows.

“My name is Yunho,” he says with a bright smile.

You chuckle before telling him your name, “nice to meet you, Yunho.”

Yunho smiles watching you walks out from his sight, “nice to meet you too.”

The universe really works its wonder in its own way. The two strangers being met with an unfortunate event. But the domino effect of the fall somehow leads to better things. When you introduce Yunho to Wooyoung, the two of them clicked just like that. The next thing you know Wooyoung scolding you for giving scars to his new co-worker, Yunho. Yunho insisted to start to work right away with the easy task even when Wooyoung tells him to start 2 days later. And still feeling guilty, you promise him to go to the café after your working hour.

You ended up spending the time there until the café closed and you walk side by side with your new tall friend. You tell him the good place he needs to see, the tasty restaurant around he needs to try, and the way to the station and the fastest route.

“Can you believe we were a total stranger just 10 hours ago?” you giggle.

“Right?” Yunho laughs with you.

“Here,” you point the route map on your hand to him, “don’t space out this time! You need to get out in this station,” your finger moves to point the destined station, “then you can take the bus; you should be able to catch it soon after you’re getting out from the station if we’re seeing the time now. It’s faster that way.”

“Thank you,” Yunho smiles at you, “for everything today.”

“I don’t think you should thank someone who injured you.”

Both of you laugh before he smiles fondly at you, “is it okay for me to call you tomorrow? I’m afraid I’d still get lost.”

“Of course! You have my number already. Just call me if you need anything.”

The subway comes after you’re saying that, “you should get going.”

Yunho nods his head, “careful on your way home.”

“You too, Yunho.”

He runs to the subway and you shouted your last message for him for today, “don’t get lost again!”

Yunho laughs and giving you a thumb up before waving at you until the door closed. Once you’re out of his sight, he looks at his hands and smile. His landlord was right, not all who wanders are lost. He gets what he needs; a job, and someone who he thinks would be someone special in his life.

[apodemus-sylvaticus]

I've been shadowbanned since July 29th

...I think.

On July 28 I was fully immersed in Good Omens hype, posting, getting a ton of notifications. Then the next day it dropped to like 5. I thought it odd, because usually popular posts have more mileage, but didn't think much about it - I thought they just got drowned in the vast numbers of other people's posts. But then the time went by, I kept posting, commenting, and getting 0 notifications. My first suspicion was that tumblr introduced a new algorhithm that doesn't favour me. I even considered that maybe somehow I suddenly became boring :D. I notised I cannot comment on the app (can on web), but with all the new updates, many of them buggy, I thought it's just one of those.

Eventually (over a week ago) I contacted help. They responded a week later, saying my account was terminated due to sexual content :D. Now, if you've seen my blog, you know it's among the most innocent there is. The only thing even remotely sexual EVER was Lan Mandragoran's butt 2 years ago. So I wrote them to actually LOOK at my blog. They didn't write back, but today I got 6 notifications, and I can comment on the app again. So I suspect I've been unblocked.

I'll be reposting stuff I posted in the last 3 weeks, because I think those posts deserve a second chance.

I'm very angry they block me without checking whatever fake report they got, especially at this time, the peak of GO fandom hype! I feel so robbed.

And the most ironic thing about this is that while they are banning accounts for false reasons, their new Live section is inhabited entirely by hoes hoeing and they're not doing anything about that.

[ffsg0jo]

HELPP I don’t know why, but I recently posted something for the first time, nothing inappropriate, and I included the hastags but when I search the hastag and click on recent posts, my post is not there😭 I don’t know why😭 Does it have to do something to do with editing the post? plss help

Okay bestie, please don't panic, there's nothing wrong with your post or anything so just relax, it's probably just a simple error or something.

From experience, it could be a number of things like for example, it's your first time posting something, so to make sure you're not a bot or something tumblr takes some time to show your post in the tags.

It could also be that you've been shadowbanned which means that again your post isn't going to show up in the tags and you won't be able to reply to comments, but this is unlikely since its your first time posting and whatnot.

I'd recommend giving it 5 or 10 minutes and checking again because sometimes it takes time for a post to show up in the tags, but if after half an hour it's still not showing then contact tumblr support and they'll sort it out for you !! Dont worry

After tumblr support have helped you and have gotten your post in the tags, I'd recommend reposting the same thing after a day or two, with the tags but do not delete the original one. Don't reblog the original, make a new post with the same thing and tags and hopefully it shows up.

In general I'd recommend testing the tags by posting a little 'testing tags' post with the tags that youre going to use and see if the test post comes up in the tags before posting anything.

I hope that this helps and let me know if you need anything else !!

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

I don't really know if this counts as a request or not (apologies in advance) but I'm just wondering if your able to reblog or post the "I'm Still Standing" Nancy Wheeler fic and/or "I want to break free" Robin Buckley fic series.

I would try to get an account on AO3 but it's honestly just bugging out on me everytime I try to do so. It's just pissing me off now, lol. And, it's fine if you aren't able, honestly.

It took me a minute to actually realize - I don't have the original posts for I'm Still Standing and I Want To Break Free. those posts no longer exist on tumblr at all for me to reblog them.

Those were posted on the account I was using for the bulk of 2020/2021/2022, which was pinkchubbiebunnie. I only started using tenpintsofsundrop partway through 2023. I deleted pinkchubbiebunnie because I was experiencing a lot of harassment and when my follower count on there peaked, I felt like most of my followers were blank accounts of people who were there to harass me and nitpick everything I said and I didn't know how to weed them out from genuine followers who wanted to enjoy my fics, so I just deleted the entire account in order to start fresh

(and then in October of 2023, tenpintsofsundrop was shadowbanned, which is why I started using this blog, with the slight url variation)

so because I deleted pinkchubbiebunnie completely rather than just abandoning the account, all the posts from that account were deleted. and yes - it is not something I thought through clearly. but I deleted during an emotional crisis where I was feeling very overwhelmed from the harassment, and I just wanted to escape it, and I wasn't thinking about all the posts and the content that I was going to be losing.

I'm Still Standing and I Want To Break Free were originally posted on pinkchubbiebunnie, so those tumblr posts are now gone, and the only versions that remain (aside from my docs) are the AO3 versions.

I do feel kind of bad for people who don't have AO3 accounts that I have locked all of my AO3 works, but at the same time, I don't want my fics to be feeding any type of AI bots.

What really got me was the fact that I had received several spam comments and replied to them without knowing they were spam comments. I didn't know until someone on tumblr made a PSA about spam comments on AO3 coming from bots. and it was just very, very disheartening for me because I thought 'well fuck. bots that are skimming my fics are commenting more frequently than some real people' - and it just hurt me. and I really wanted to protect my fics by locking them

so I am unsure what to do about my fics that are only on AO3 for people who don't have an AO3 account

for I'm Still Standing specifically - I have had intentions to repost that fic on tumblr for a while now. it is one of my favourite fics I have ever written, and I think it's really well done, so I will move it up the list of priority for reposting. it is one of my least popular ever fics and it does kind of upset me that I think it's one of my best ever fics and it was very ignored when I first posted it. but I love it, so I'm definitely gonna prioritise reposting it.

but for I Want To Break Free - I think I would only repost it on tumblr if I cleaned it up and I fully had intentions of finishing it and I had the energy to finish it. otherwise it's just going to stay on AO3.

but with the whole archive locked fics thing - you can basically call that: people who support/enjoy/use AI generated fics spoiling fanfiction for everyone (and yes, I am including AI chat bots). because I don't really feel safe unlocking my fics for people without an account to read while AI fanfic bots are still alive and well. so unfortunately I am unsure what to do about that.

[verdanabditbackup]

Tag masterpost & Info

First and foremost: To try to get around Tumblr's auto-flagging system that would get me shadowbanned, I'll be censoring all d☆rty words, and all mentions of the terms SS/FF/WW and NN/SS/FF/WW will be substituted with the rot13 equivalents "FSJ" and "AFSJ". FSJ and AFSJ will have separate tags because I personally prefer being able to filter out the h☆rny sometimes. I don't use nicknames for AUs very often, so mind the tags to figure out which I'm talking about. (Sometimes it's vaguely either-or)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pairings

All of these are same-universe brother/brother inc☆st. Please block me and the tags if they trouble you.

If any give the result "Page cannot be found", it probably means that I just haven't posted anything with that tag yet, rather than the hotlink being broken.

Undertale (All)

Undertale (FSJ)

Undertale (AFSJ)

Underfell (All)

Underfell (FSJ)

Underfell (AFSJ)

Underswap (All)

Underswap (FSJ)

Underswap (AFSJ)

Swapfell Red (All)

Swapfell Red (FSJ)

Swapfell Red (AFSJ)

Swapfell Purple (All)

Swapfell Purple (FSJ)

Swapfell Purple (AFSJ)

Fellswap Gold (All)

Fellswap Gold (FSJ)

Fellswap Gold (AFSJ)

Horrortale (All)

Horrortale (FSJ)

Horrortale (AFSJ)

Underlust (All)

Underlust (FSJ)

Underlust (AFSJ)

G (All) (? Whatever it is where Sans and Papyrus have fused with Gaster?)

G (FSJ)

G (AFSJ)

Vague pairing (All) (Vague enough that it could be any of the above, usually referring to them as energetic brother/lazy brother. Will still be tagged as fontcest for visibility.)

Vague pairing (FSJ)

Vague pairing (AFSJ)

Pairing traits Separated into both character specific and personality specific for your tastes! I know the latter half aren't grammatically correct but I don't want to disrupt the grammatically correct tags. These are mostly for avoiding the ones you don't like, as they aren't in use on FSJ posts or posts where it doesn't specify who has what role.

Dom Sans

Sub Sans

Dom Papyrus

Sub Papyrus

Dom Lazy

Sub Lazy

Dom Energetic

Sub Energetic

Post types

Open prompt / Imagine (All)

Open prompt / Imagine (FSJ)

Open prompt / Imagine (AFSJ)

Art

Observations & headcanons (Usually can be read platonically)

Unfinished fanfic (All)

Unfinished fanfic (FSJ)

Unfinished fanfic (AFSJ)

Finished fanfic (All)

Finished fanfic (FSJ)

Finished fanfic (AFSJ)

Info under Read More / Keep Reading.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Info

I'm reposting things from my Twitter because Twitter is constantly on the verge of collapse, and I got frustrated with how difficult it was to find other peoples' posts on Twitter. I wanted to be able to easily find their prompts, imagines, daydreams, etc. but it's pretty impossible once an account has like 20,000 tweets. So I wanted to collect all of mine in one place, since it's what I would have wanted others to do too. (Let it be encouragement, maybe? I want to read all your fontcest thoughts.)

I would just move here from Twitter, but Tumblr banned the you-know-what in 2018 and all the real activity is on Twitter. If the ban never happened, I would have never left Tumblr in the first place. And they're never going to un-ban it. But because I'm not posting AFSJ in a visual medium, I should be alright to post here at least.

If any of my silly little thoughts inspire you, please use them. I can't write much, so they'll do nothing but sit here. If the same prompt inspires more than one person… then let there be as many cakes as everyone wants to bake! No credit necessary, but appreciated.

I don't think anyone here would really want to talk to me, but if you ever send me a message and I don't reply for a long time, you can probably safely assume that Tumblr ate it or shadowbanned me, so I never actually received the messages. You can send anon messages on curiouscat, or message me on Twitter. I use the same name everywhere, so if Twitter goes under, I'll still be easy enough to find.

[hessys-corner]

[simpfortetsu]

haikyuu boys when you guys get a new puppy!

featuring: post-timeskip! hinata shoyo, sakusa kiyoomi, & ushijima wakatoshi

genre & wc: fluff & .7k

a note: okay so this is a repost because tumblr hates me and i was shadowbanned for a minute. if this doesn’t work pls ignore :) also if you’d like to see pics of my pups they’re in the original post

taglist: @kawaii-angelanne @settersandsmaus @sincerelykore @sourstars join my taglist here!

hinata

the dog he chooses would have to be as energetic as he is

but also one that is good for cuddling because that’s a pass time that you both enjoy way too much

maybe a golden retriever. because hinata is a Golden Retriever Boy™️

when you first get your puppy the training is the hardest part

because hinata is always at practice and you’re working/schooling/whateva

coming home to little poops in the crate is always no fun :/

but whenever you get home you take out your little baby and play with them

making sure they get all the love they deserve

walks are a must, especially with high energy little pups

but when hinata comes home all bets are off for calm

they constantly are playing and it’s like having two little babies at home sometimes

they definitely both end up passed out on the couch together after a long day of practice and playing

hinata even tries to sneak your guys’ dog into practice a couple time

bokuto and atsumu are all for it, but sakusa has to put his foot down

especially when your puppy gets so excited he pees on the gym floor

sakusa

he would get a hypoallergenic one no doubt

because they’re the “least dirty” meaning they don’t shed or anything like that

he only got you guys a puppy because you had been asking him non stop and telling him about your baby fever

at least that’s what he says

but when you come home from work/school/wherever really, after the first month of having your puppy, you come home to see them both passed out on the couch

sakusa has his arm loosely hung over your dog and well your puppy

he was in your spot on the couch but it didn’t really matter because he was snuggled up so close to kiyoomi that you just couldn’t help but snap a picture

you know that it wasn’t just for you to be able to get over your baby fever. he definitely wanted one too

but he also makes him take baths at least once a week. maybe ever other if he’s being generous

and you both have to train him well so that he doesn’t poop in the house. which is normal, but you get tired of sakusa spraying his cleaning solutions everywhere 😩

when his friends come over (the miya’s, bokuto and hinata) basically the msby team, they fall in love with your puppy too

and the constantly question how you got sakusa to adopt a puppy

and when you tell them that he surprised you, well

they know he’s head over heels for you and continue to question when he’s gonna surprise you with a ring ;)

ushijima

he would probably get a more farm friendly dog

like a sheep dog

a big fluffy guy that likes to walk around with him and “help” tend to his plants

you never expected wakatoshi to bring a dog home but when he did you were even more surprised by the giant grin on his face

he got your dog as a puppy, so he was small enough to hold at first

you both take lots of pictures with/of your little guy when first getting him

his goal was to have someone for you to have while he’s away at games

but he hadn’t intended missing you and your dog when he leaves for games as well

so when you call him at a game and he asks to facetime you, you don’t expect him to be saying that he wants to see your little baby too

he always asks about you both when he’s away and makes sure you both are eating right

reminds you to walk your dog because he needs to get a good amount of exercise

and when he comes home he always treats you both to some good food and attention

when your dog gets bigger toshi is the only one that can pick them up

he definitely is the kind of guy that would give you both hugs and then go on about his day

[faterpresources]

Anonymous:

Do you have any advice on how to start an rp blog? I feel like there's so much to do and so many specific things, it looks intimidating, but I really want to get into it (and your blog seems like a safe space to ask as a baby in the matter)

Hi! Thanks you for asking and for trusting. I do admit that rping on tumblr can look daunting and there is a series of things that are considered “etiquette” that might not be obvious for newcomers. And the only way to learn is to ask, right? As I’m not sure if you would like something more specific or a step-by-step, I’m going to go through the whole process.

note: this is a repost from an ask in a more reblog-friendly format

1.       Setting up the blog

You might want to make a new e-mail account for each blog you want. I recommend making a gmail/google account, so you may be able to use other services and associate them with your blog. I’ll go into more details in a minute.

Some people would rather have a personal blog and then making the RP blog as a side-blog. Or a “hub” blog and many side-blogs so they have everything centralized. The downside is that you can’t follow people with side-blogs, only the main – and some rpers are a little suspicious of personal blogs, so if you intend to go this route it might be a good idea to state somewhere in your blog that you have a RP blog.

Tip : It isn’t said too often, but I recommend saving your blog’s e-mail and password somewhere, maybe a flashdrive or even google drive. This way, if something happens you will be able to retrieve your account.

When picking the URL, for a very long time tumblr had problems tagging URLs with a hyphen ( - ). I’m not sure if it has been fixed or if there are still some issues, so I recommend only using letters and maybe numbers. Other than that, pick anything that sounds nice to you!

Themes are nice, but not entirely necessary. Not everybody has photoshop skills and all that. Some people do have commissioned themes, but if you want to try your hand at it my first stop is usually @theme-hunter  or @sheathemes . They reblog many themes from many creators, so there are always many options that might suit your needs.  Some creators offer very newcomer-friendly themes that you can configure a lot of things without much hassle but some might require basic HTML knowledge – a few creators have guides on how to properly set up their themes and are willing to and answer questions, so don’t be afraid to contact them! You can also send me an ask, I’m not a specialist but I can certainly help walk you through the basics.

Tip: @glenthemes have very good themes and a basic installation guide here.

When fiddling with the options, try to pick colors that have nice contrast and are easy to read. If you are bad at picking colors or have problems in finding the code for them, I recommend trying this link. There is also this one that auto-generate palettes.

Tip : If you mess with your theme, remember there is the Theme Recovery.

Tip: If you use Chrome or Firefox you can set up different profiles and associate each with a different blog, so you don’t need to log out from any of your accounts.

There are two pages that I recommend having: one is an about your muse. If they are an OC, it is always a good idea to have at least some information out there to make things easier. If they are from a canon source, not everybody is familiar with the material so it might be a good idea to state. For example, if you are going to roleplay as Altria/Arturia, it is a good idea to have a “RP blog for Saber (Altria Pendragon) from FGO/FSN “ somewhere visible. The other page that is a good idea having is a rules/guidelines page. This one can be a little intimidating, but it is usually a way to communicate important things. For example: are you comfortable writing violence? Do you have any personal triggers? There is something you absolutely won’t write? There are things you may figure out along the way and it is absolutely ok to fine-tune this session every now and then. Some people also credit source for their icons and graphics in general in their rule/guideline page.

If you are using the tumblr default themes, when you create a new page you can turn on the option to show a link to the page. If you are using a custom theme, most of the time you will have to link it manually.

Oh, and if you are planning to do a multimuse, it might be a good idea to list which muses you have. The same goes for a hub blog; list the muses and link to the pages.

Icons aren’t necessary but are considered commonplace. You can find some icons I’ve done here but there are plenty of other sources. If you want to do your own icons, keep in mind to don’t make them too big, as a courtesy to your mutuals.

Tip: Anything larger than 300 pixels will be stretched to fit the post. As of today ( 4/29/2021 ) the posts are currently 540 pixels wide. This can be useful as making banners for your blog.

Tumblr allow users to “pin” posts. This mean that they will always visible if you access your blog, even on dash/mobile. You can use this to set up a post with basic links for mobile users or something else. For example, if you are out on vacations and won’t be able to do replies, you can pin a hiatus notice and then remove the pin once you are back.

2.       Introducing yourself

Time to officially join the fun! (insert a “Hi, Zuko here” joke) Don’t worry if you don’t have a fancy promo graphic or anything, most people make their initial introduction with a simple post.

(as you can see, I’m not very good at saying ‘hi’)

Try to introduce yourself in a few lines, but make sure to state which muse you RP as. Some people also like adding their pen name/alias and establishing a brand. Follow as many people as you want that reblogged or liked your post, and tumblr is going to start recommending other blogs that are related to the tags you use normally or have any relation to the people you follow. You can put as many tags as you want, but tumblr will disregard more than 6 tags in their system. Try tags like “<fandom> rp” and “<fandom> roleplay” along with the media, such as “movie” “video game”, “anime” and so on.

It might also be a good idea to follow a few RP memes blogs. They often have options to break the ice, like one-liners that your mutual can send you.

Tip: Don’t forget to turn on the asks and the anon

3.       Practical advice

Alright, now that you have a few mutuals, it is time to get to some general tips:

Tumblr can be a little “iffy”, and a great quality of life extension for RPers and navigation in general is installing the New Xkit extension. They offer a number of options to enhance your tumblr experience, but the ones I consider essential are the “editable reblogs”, “quick tags” and “blacklist”. Get it for Chrome or Firefox.

As a rule of thumb I recommend writing your RPs using Google Docs before posting or replying. By doing this you can do some spell check and if your browser crashes for any reason you can easily recover your work. You can also use Word, Open Office, or any text editor you feel like.

Because I’m a bit of a perfectionist, I also have Grammarly ( Chrome / Firefox ) installed for an extra layer of spell/grammar check. There is a subscription option, but the free one works perfectly fine.

To make things easier to locate, always tag the URL of your RP partner when doing a reply. There are other useful things you can tag, such as open starters, memes, and such.

Risking being obvious here, but when you are not interacting as your character it might be a good idea to tag as “ooc” or “out of character”.

Some people like making google docs with basic info and other useful stuff for easier access on mobile. It is a recent trend, it might be easier to edit as opposed to going through tumblr page editor and dealing with the HTML.  You can find some templates here and here.

Tumblr’s activity can be unreliable, so don’t be afraid of contacting your partner to see if they have gotten your reply after a few weeks. However, some people also enjoy using the RP Thread Tracker in order to be on top of things. It might be a good idea to check it out.

Because of Tumblr shadowbanning and shenanigans, it isn’t unusual for people to have NSFW sideblogs (sometimes referred as ‘sin blogs’). If you want to write smut, it might be a good idea to consider making one.

Some people don’t like replying to asks, as Tumblr won’t let you remove the initial ask. It has become common to see people making new posts to reply to asks.  This is a simple example:

As you can see, I used the mention to have the RP partner notified then I copied and pasted their question on my post and used the quote to indicate it. You can also have fancy graphics, like a line to separate the contents, just do whatever you feel like with the formatting or keep it simple.

To make sure your partner got the answer, I recommend copying the link to the post and pasting on the ask and then replying it privately.  An example sent to my rp blog:

4.       Basic Etiquette

Ok, this is a little subjective most of the time but here are a few things that are considered universal courtesy.

Never reblog someone else’s headcanons. If you enjoy it, maybe it should politely contact the author and ask if it is ok to write something based on their original idea but you should never downright copy or lift something from another creator. It is considered rude, or even theft in some cases.

Don’t reblog threads you are not involved with. It is ok to leave a like, but never reblog. This is because Tumblr can mess up the notifications and disrupt the flow of the RP.

Don’t copy other people’s graphics. It is very rude and sometimes they commission (aka: paid) for it.

Trim your posts. What does that mean? Every time you reblog with a reply, the post tends to get longer and longer, and it can cluster your and your mutuals’ dashes. This is why the New X-Kit’s “editable reblogs” is an almost must-have tool. If for some reason you can’t install X-Kit (if you are on mobile for example), then remove the previous post or ask your partner to trim for you.

Never take control of your RP partner’s muse. This is called “godmodding” and it is heavily frowned upon. It is ok to control your muse and the possible NPCs that you inserted, but never seize someone else’s character. Likewise, it can also be very upsetting if you use what people call “meta-gaming”, applying knowledge that your muse shouldn’t know about the other. For example, let’s say your RP partner’s muse is a vampire, but they have never disclosed that information to your muse, who also doesn’t have an excuse to know that (for example, being a vampire hunter) so it can be quite jarring sometimes. When in doubt, contact your partner.

This should go without saying, but RPing sexual themes with users under the age of 18 are illegal. It doesn’t matter if the age of consent in your location is lower, once you join Tumblr you are abiding by their user guidelines and the law of the state they are located in. If you are an adult, don’t engage minors with these topics, maybe a fade to black would be a better option. If you are a minor, don’t insist or you might cause a lot of legal problems for others.

Try to tag anything triggering. Violence, gore, NSFW. Both Tumblr and the New Xkit have options to block keywords.

When picking PSDs or graphics for your blog, you should avoid templates that change the color of the skin of POCs muses and try to pick the right race/ethnicity of the muse you are going to RP as. I won’t go through a lot of details, as it is a rather lengthy subject in an already lengthy conversation but keep this in the back of your mind.

Some RPers don’t like when you reblog memes from them without sending anything. Try to always reblog from a source or to interact with the person you are reblogging from, it can be rather disheartening to be seen as a meme source rather than a RP blog. This isn’t a rule and some people don’t mind, but it is always a good idea to try to do this.

This might be more of a pet peeve of mine than proper etiquette, but it is ok to use small font. What is not ok is use small font + underscript. Some people have disabilities that might make it harder for them to read it, so it might be a good idea to refrain from using it. Maybe if you feel like doing something fancier every now and then, but I wouldn’t recommend making this a habit.

Mun and Muse are different entities. Remember that it isn’t because a muse does something (especially a villain one) that the mun condones something. Never assume anything about the mun, when in doubt talk to them.

Be mindful of your partners and treat them the way you would like to be treated.

As a rule of thumb, always talk to your RP partner. It is only fun as long both of you are enjoying it.

5.       Closing Words

This got longer than I expected.

Despite all of that, don’t be too worried about not being very good at first. I assure you that you will get better with time, so don’t be afraid of experimenting as long you feel comfortable. And don’t be afraid of saying “no” if something bothers you.

My inbox is always open to questions and ideas, so feel free to contact me anytime!

I would also ask my followers: there is advice I missed/overlooked? Anything you would like someone have told you when you first started? Add your thoughts so I can update this.

Happy RPing!

[bakutae]

haikyuu headcanons #1

today's menu:

a platter of sugawara koushi, drop of kei tsukishima, dash of tobio kageyama and sprinkle of tadashi yamaguchi

scenario:

taking care of you during your period

author’s note:

i hope this will be the last time i’m reposting any of my works because of tumblr shadowbanning me but i’ll try having a lot of tags which ky @hanniejji​ recommended me having

sugawara koushi

'baby do you need help?'

you're preparing meals? 'baby do you need help?'

you're trying to get out of bed? 'baby do you need help?'

even when you're on the goddamn toilet trying to give birth through your butt? 'baby do you need help?'

he just loves you too much to let you do anything alone (￣Д￣)ﾉ

he's just really really mother husband material, period or not

he would be very patient with you, through your mood swings and what not, and will never ever lose his temper when you yell at him for no reason

in fact, he'd actually find you yelling at him humorous and start laughing right there and then, which would irritate you incredibly and cause you to scream louder in frustration

it is only during your period that he will get to see so many new sides to you and he frankly loves

but if it gets too much, he just gently wraps his lean but muscular arms around you and you'll stop screaming immediately

cuddles galore!!

he'll lowkey pull you into bed with him whether you like it or not and press his body against yours and uses your body like a body pillow

snuggles into your hair and comments on how good it smells just makes you feel warm inside

he'll end up sleeping in that position so even if you aren't sleep too bad you'll have to stay in that position until he wakes up unless you have the heart to wake him up but who will

honestly, days during your period are just the more chill ones compared to your usual hectic and busy ones with him having volleyball training very often

wouldn't be surprised if he skipped a little bit of training just to spend some more quality time with you

he'll not just ask you if you need help constantly, he'll also follow you around the house cause he's afraid you'll lose too much blood and fall unconscious suddenly

he just doesn't want to find you on the floor half dead let's be real

kei tsukishima

this sadistic boy-

lowkey would tease you during the first two or so days of your period

would ignore your cries for him to cuddle you just to get a rise out of you cause he's just like that unfortunately

enjoys seeing you all flustered and needing him to be by your side

'tsukkiiii come here please i want to hug you'

you even pouted and looked at him with your best puppy eyes as an attempt to win him over

'no'

within seconds the response came that you expected but still felt disappointed regardless

okay, if he wasn't there for physical support, he'd be there for emotional support when you just suddenly burst in tears while watching a puppy getting fed on youtube

'tsukkiii don't you feel bad for the watermelon that was fed to the puppy? watermelons have feelings too!'

he'd be so done with you ngl

but he wasn't that much of an asshole cause he did, after all, love you

he'd roll his eyes, grab a pack of tissue and sit by your side while looking at you with a tiny bit of concern but then again you were crying because you felt sorry for a watermelon

finally, he would pull your head towards his chest and press it firmly against it as he gently strokes your head with affection with one hand, the other one trying to pull out a piece of tissue from the pack

when he finally did get tissue out though, your tears had already soaked his t-shirt enough to see his skin because of the thin material

he'd gently tilt your head up and try to dry your tears

the keyword was try

you started squealing under his touch, saying something about 'being an embarrassment to him right now' and resisted his touch, refusing to look him in the eye

'am i taking care of my girlfriend now or am i taking care of bokuto?'

he just pressed a soft kiss to your lips, though the kiss was mixed in with some of your tears, he didn't care

he'd leaned in for seconds, this time holding on for longer, a small 'smack' sound ending the kiss promptly

that'd do the trick

he'd look at your wide-eyed self with a smirk then proceed to dry off your tears with a gentle touch

and you don't even try to resist him again

tobio kageyama

i lowkey feel like he would be caught incredibly off guard when he sees you on the floor, numb, laughing over some joke that's not even funny

'y/n are you broken? do you need me to bring you to see a... um i don't know where to bring you to y/n please stop laughing you're scaring me'

cue the intensifying laughter

he's mildly concerned and he wouldn't know what periods were at all, despite having an older sister

so he gently pushed up against your flesh, carrying you up without any difficulty and brought you to the bed

'tobiiii, i'm on my period'

'your...what?'

so you had a thirty minute talk with him, explaining to him what a period was and how it was to release the unfertilized egg as blood

he was desperately trying to get out of the room, uncomfortably yelling out 'idiot' constantly, trying to block off your words

however, your tight grasp around his arm was preventing him from executing his great escape plan

'how do i get your period to stop then? does like massages help increase blood flow and decrease the chances of me having a heart attack like this again?'

'well... i don't know about the massage part... but i do know one way to stop my period for around nine months though'

'what is it?'

'you'll have to get me pregnant'

0-0

kageyama.exe has stopped working

'i can't believe you don't know what periods are tobio, didn't you learn it in school?'

'well i couldn't possibly ask yachi to explain to me topics like human intercourse and periods can i?'

'i guess not'

you'd then smile at him, eyes tracing over his crimson cheeks as his gaze dropped to the bed, not looking at you

you threw yourself at him, finding your own comfortable spot in his neck as you pressed a brief kiss to it

'y-you idiot! w-what are you doing?'

'it's called mood swings, tobio, get used to it'

when your period was over, he was so relieved he didn't have to go through all that anymore

until he found you in the toilet, around a month later, a sheet of toilet paper in hand, howling in laughter about how the toilet paper looked like a melted snowman

tadashi yamaguchi

soft boyfriend ™

he had his suspicions that you were on your period on your first day because he noticed the little things you did different that day

he usually pays a lot of attention to you everyday so that day was no different

he noticed how you grabbed the cornflakes instead of the usual lucky charms cereal and he knew something was up

yamaguchi would be such an attentive boyfriend period

yamaguchi knew what periods were but was too shy to speak up to confirm his suspicions

'y-y/n, a-are you on your...um...'

honestly at that point in time you didn't know you had your period yet so you eyed him curiously, raising an eyebrow

he was incredibly nervous and you didn't know why; with his cheekbones colored pink and him not looking at you at all

you poured the cereal in and then reached for the milk carton next to your bowl, eyes still fixated on him

of course, like the clumsy person you were, you spilled the milk all over yourself instead

yamaguchi immediately brought a cloth and a small towel over, cloth to prevent any spillage on the floor and towel that was to be covered over your shoulders as he asked you to change out before catching a cold

pulling the warm towel against your now cold skin, you inched your way over to the bathroom, careful to not make a mess on the way there

when you were taking off your pants, you noticed a familiar faint red stain on the bottom of your grey sweatpants that you totally did not steal from yamaguchi

you cried out in agony as the most dreaded period of the month had come, which resulted in yamaguchi running after you, into the bedroom and peering over the joint bathroom within seconds

'y-y/n-'

his already colored cheeks grew ten shades darker, having seen you in your underwear and sweatpants in your hand

his gaze quickly shifted away as he whimpered

's-sorry for intruding, y/n! a-are you okay?'

a smile crept up your face quickly, staring at him, amused from his timid reaction

'yes tadashi, i'm just having my period'

'i knew it'

'hm?'

'n-nothing!'

taglist: @bnha-homeroom @shiggywiggy @sushij1ma

[lava-baked-bread]

Reposting this one since I was shadowbanned whe I first posted it, so noone saw it because it didn't appear on the tags.

I still don't know why I was shadowbanned

THANKS TUMBLR.

Anyways, have them being dissaster gays