vest cardigan

oh my god sherlock seriously went to belarus for john bc he wanted more money fkskdklsjss HE ONLY TOOK THE SHAD SANDERSON CASE BC JOHN HAD NO MONEY??? sherlock was over here hopping on planes like “i gotta keep my baby in the nicest cardigan vests”

Three Words, Eight Letters

Author’s Note: Reid x Reader. When the Reader says “I love you” Reid struggles to return the sentiment. But there’s more than one way to say it. You just have to listen.

He can translate five languages with ease and can read 20,000 words per minute. He can recite Shakespeare and poetry and memorize entire film scripts without batting an eye. And yet, there are three words he just can’t manage to string together.

She thinks it’s a mental block, that something in his mind just won’t let it happen. Or perhaps it’s something in his heart. Something scarred, and something scared. They’d been together for six months before she found the courage to say it to him. They’d been sitting together on a park bench, watching the world go by. He draped an arm over her shoulder, and she’d nestled close to his chest, sighing. It was the most natural thing in the world, to be by his side.

“Spencer?” she’d said, glancing up at him.


“I, um… I love you.” She had pulled back a bit, gauging his reaction. His eyes widened and red crept into his cheeks as he sat there stammering, looking wholly shell-shocked. “It’s okay,” she added, “You don’t have to say it back! I just thought you should know.”

Spencer had looked down, pulling at his knuckles. “It-it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that… I can’t. I’ve tried to tell you so many times, but the words, they won’t come out.” He was quiet for a few moments, before saying, “I think it’s because of Maeve.” His late girlfriend. He had told her their story a few months into their relationship, the night they unearthed the demons of their past together. “She said it to me, but I never had the chance to tell her that, and ever since then I just… I can’t do it. I’m sorry. Because I do… I really do, I just…”

His voice jumped higher and his eyes began to water. Sensing his distress she’d leaned in and silenced him with a kiss. “Shh. I know. It’s okay. You don’t have to say it. I just wanted you to know.” There’s no need to rush it. When he’s ready, he’ll say it.

Months pass, and he still cannot manage it. She’s gotten rather fond of telling him despite the sentiment not being returned. Those words seem to come so easily to her, as though trying to make up for his silence. She can’t stop telling him how much she loves him. When he shows up to her apartment with her favorite takeout food, when they’re the only two sitting in the library, between ragged breaths after he’s kissed her so deeply the world melts away.

He never says it back. And yet, he says it all the time. She just has to listen.

“I love you,” she laughs, as he finishes telling her a funny story on their walk back from dinner. He’s accompanying her back to her apartment, and the air is rapidly cooling off. She shivers, wearing only a dress and light jacket. When the sun went down, the mild fall temperatures went with it. Spencer stops and pulls off his coat, laying it across her shoulders.

“Darling, you don’t have to-”

“Don’t worry. I’m not really cold at all,” he assures her, removing his scarf as well. With care he wraps it in circles around her neck, smiling at her. Instantly the cold in her bones is replaced by warmth, and she buries her nose into the fabric of the scarf. It smells like ivory soap, coffee, and autumn. Just like him.


Spencer takes her hand once more, and they start off down the street. “Of course. I don’t want you to get sick. You need it more than I do.” He takes his coat back when they reach her building, but he conveniently forgets about the scarf, a fact which she’s all too happy about to believe it was an accident.

She hears it then.

She hearts it when he comes back after a long case, she throws her arms around him. “God I’ve missed you,” she says. “I love you so much.”

He kisses her forehead, and when he pulls away she notices the bag in his hand. “”I brought you something.”

“Why?” she asks. “It’s not my birthday or anything.”

“Open it,” is all he says. She peers inside, and withdraws a book. Staring at the cover, her mouth falls open.

Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse. An old, worn copy. She opens the front cover and stares at the first page. It can’t be. “But this is… this is a first edition! Spencer, it must’ve cost a fortune!”

He shakes his head. “You’ve always told me it’s your favorite book, and that you’d do anything to get a first edition copy. Well, on the case I helped save the life of a rare bookstore owner, who insisted on giving me a book as a gift. When I saw this one, I knew I had to get it.”

“Why?” she repeats. In her arms she clutches the book tight, not sure whether she wants to hug it or him more.

“Just because,” he says. “I wanted to see your smile when you opened it.” The book is temporarily forgotten on the armchair as she loses herself in kissing him.

She knows it the day he comes over to find her curled up on the couch, crying. It’s been a difficult week and her best friend, Isa, has been in a terrible accident. Things are up in the air. Isa is in the hospital. Spencer doesn’t ask any questions, he simply walks over and sits down beside her. She continues to sob as he pulls her onto his lap and wraps up her in an embrace. His heart beats through his shirt, and he runs his hands up and down her back in slow patterns, whispering gentle reassurances in that low voice he typically reserves for victims and grieving families. In his arms, she is safe. Warm and protected. No matter what the world throws at her, she knows he will be there to lift her up and keep her steady.

The very presence of him soothes her. He wipes her tears with the sleeves of his shirt and pushes her hair back from her face. They sit there in silence, her head on his chest, his fingers tracing circles on her skin until her breathing returns to normal. No words are needed at all. He knows her, knows what she needs. And she knows in her heart exactly how he feels.

She is certain of it when they’re at an event for her job, and one of her colleagues starts ranting about how medication is useless for mental illness. Robert goes on and on, saying that all people need to do is think positively and do things like yoga. Everyone is overdiagnosed, overmedicated, and overly sensitive.

Spencer feigns a sudden interest in the view from the window in the hallway as an excuse to escape the conversation. He glances down at her, quickly looking her over. “Are you okay?” he asks.

She bites her lip and inhales slowly. Anxiety has been a struggle for most of her life, and it was only with therapy and medication that she started to heal. Since college, things have been much better, but she still remembers the darker days, when she wasn’t sure how to keep going. To hear people say such ignorant things about mental health still stings.

“I’m alright,” she says. “I’ve heard worse things. But thank you for getting me out of there. I love you.”

Spencer interlaces his fingers with her own and they stare out at the city together. “I’d do anything for you. And I don’t want anyone to hurt you. What you feel is valid, and nobody should tell you otherwise.” He’s always doing that with her. Her protector, her knight in a vest and cardigan. There is no doubt in her mind that when he says anything he means anything.

They are sitting in his living room and they’ve both had a stressful day at work, and he’s making herbal tea in the kitchen. “I love you,” she says, grinning, when he sets the mug down before her. Spencer frowns and shifts uneasily in the armchair he’s in.

“Doesn’t it bother you, Y/N?” he asks.

“Doesn’t what bother me?”

“The fact that I still haven’t said it.” Oh. That. “We’ve been dating for over a year, and I still can’t manage to do something so simple. I know it must be frustrating, and I don’t want you to think I’m not as committed to you or to our relationship. You’re the most important thing in my life, and I don’t want to lose you. But I can’t say it yet.”

“Spencer,” she says softly, resting a hand on his forearm. The fabric of his sweater is soft between her fingers. “I know it. I know how you feel about me. You don’t have to say anything before you’re ready to. There’s more than one way to say I love you, you know. You tell me all the time. Not in those words, but I get the message.”

He seems unconvinced. “How?”

“You ask me to text you to make sure I get home safely. You call me almost every night when you’re away on a case just because you say you want to hear my voice. You hold me when I’m scared. You take me out to get Thai food even though you’d rather have Indian. You memorized every song in Les Mis because you knew it was my favorite musical. In all those gestures, I can hear it. And I can hear it when you make time for me no matter how busy you are. Sometimes you say it without saying anything at all.”

She leans closer to kiss him, softly at first, then deeper, deeper. In equal fervor he responds, and though the syllables do not fall from his tongue, his lips are perfectly capable of making the message clear. Every part of her tells her it’s true, that he loves her he loves her he loves her. No flower petal plucking needed to divine it.

One day, she’s walking across the sidewalk to hand him a cup of coffee. They’re going to walk to the Smithsonian, but it’s still early and they need caffeine before they’re ready to go anywhere. He holds the paper cup close to his face, breathes in the scent of a warm mocha.

“Ah. What would I do without you?” he says, flashing her a smile. She laughs, a grin that stretches across her whole face, and the morning sunlight hits her eyes just right at that very moment, and she just looks so adorable. Something in him lifts. “I love you.”

The smile falters, and the latte she’s holding tumbles from her hands, contents spilling on the sidewalk. She blinks. “What did you say?”

Bewildered, she stares up at him, and his heart swells. “I love you,” he repeats. He can’t explain why now or how, but the words have finally come and he can’t stop them. Months of sentiments fall from his mouth. “I love every part of you. I love the way your eyes light up when you’re excited and I love the way you laugh and I love how open your heart is. I love your patience and your hair and the way you kiss me when there’s no one else around. I love all of you. I love you. I am in love with you. I’ve never loved anyone this much. I love you, Y/N.”

It feels so good to say it.

It feels so good to hear it. Water springs to her eyes before she can stop the tears. Stepping over the puddle of coffee, she cups his face in her hands. “I know you do,” she murmurs. “You didn’t have to say it. But I’m glad you did. And I love you, too.”

In the middle of the sidewalk, he pulls her closer, pressing his lips to hers. They’re both laughing and crying and something in them has changed. She doesn’t care that people pass by, giving them odd looks as they stand there kissing. Whatever locked doors existed in his heart have finally been opened. He’s healing. He’s ready.

For him, she would wait a thousand years. No demands, no ultimatums. She has heard the sentiment before, listening carefully to his actions and reading between the lines.

But oh, how good it feels to finally hear those words out loud. And oh, how she loves him.


+Character animation reference sheets (personal Batverse)– wanted Crane to look more like a nerdy older professor with dated vintage fashion sense (a creepy gangly Atticus Finch with the sweater vests and cardigans). Lots of warm browns, creams, and orange as an accent. Really fond of classic ‘mad scientist’ attire, so I like the big black gloves (good for working with chemicals and pointy needles). Scarecrow costume is a weird mix of SYO (the cloak) and Sale!Crow (gloves, boots, tunic). Didn’t include the mask here. Currently using Jeremy Irons as the person reference I keep in mind when drawing/writing Crane– the facial shape, eyes, thin crooked smile, and dry menacing sarcasm mostly.  


Tiny Sweaters 

Words: 473
Tony Stark x Reader
“So like I said I was gonna maybe blow up your inbox lol. Well I have an idea after watching a fluffy movie… lol Again I leave it to your imagination creativity ;) so like I can get a Tony Stark story where reader is going through labor and Tony helps her as she gives birth. This move just made me go aww’d lol Thank You !” - @tonystarksgirl 

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” You sneered at your husband. You had one hand squeezing around his hand and the other wrapped on the bedrail. Your stupid head had told you that you didn’t need an epidural. You were an incredibly brave hero! You were the first woman to tame the infamous Tony Stark! Labor pains were but a minor inconvenience! Oh how wrong you had been.

“If I remember correctly, Sweetheart, you had a lot to say when we were making the baby.” Tony smirk from your side. His smile wavered as you crushed his hand once more. “Ok, not helping. I get it.”  

Keep reading

Hi! So I wrote a fic loosely based on a post by omg-hawkeye. Check them out - they’re great!

Here’s the post - 

Warnings - very brief mentions of kidnapping but no actual kidnapping.

Clint stared at his wardrobe, a frown spreading over his features. Nothing. Well, nothing that he could wear anyway. Yesterday the team had found his old circus pictures and they would not stop teasing him about his purple costume. This was fine, as sooner or later someone else would goof up and they would forget about it - providing he didn’t remind them. This was where the problem lay – all his clothes were purple. Shirts, T-shirts, vests, dresses, cardigans, sweaters, hoodies and jackets. All in purple.

Keep reading

Little Things - The weird one D.S

Pairing: Daniel Seavey x Reader

Warning: None i think

Summary: He could have any girl but he chooses the one everyone avoids, the weird one.

“So you gunna ask her to the dance?” His friend asked with a smirk.

“Who?” He replied playing dumb. His cheeks flushed red as he blushed at just the thought of her. He knew exactly who his friend was on about.

“Daniel, you know you very crap at playing dumb right?” His friend pointed out. “You blush at the very thought of her” He added.

“Yeah!” He muttered in defeat, rubbing the back of his head. “I dunno, maybe” He sighed.

“What do you see in her?” His friend asked genuinely. Daniel stopped walking looking at his friend in disbelief almost as if his friend had just insulted his mother or something. “What? I’m not the one with a huge crush on her, you are” His friend defended. Daniel began walking again.

“I don’t know, she different” he replied clearly lost in his own trail of thoughts. He thought of all the little things about her. Like the dimples in her smile. Or the change of colour in her eyes when she angry, sad or happy/excited. Or the way doodles instead of paying attention or her giggle. Or her smile. He hadn’t even begun to think about her personality because his friend dragged him back to reality.

“Dan!” He called pulling him aside “Watch the lamppost, you know they’re rude and don’t move outta the way” He teased.

“Uh! Oh, yea thanks Jack” Daniel smiled.

“Thinking about her again?” Jack asked with a sigh

“No!” Daniel replied, a blush returning to his cheeks.

“Dan! Just ask her out already!” Jack muttered. “You’re driving us all insane” He added unlocking the door to the house. Daniel rolled his eyes, of course the subject of conversation was the school dance. Here comes the repeat. He thought slumming down at the kitchen table.

“I mean I’m taking Christina” Corbyn shrugged, “What about you?” He asked looking at Jack.

“I’m probably gunna go with Nicolette” He smiled. Corbyn turned to face Daniel. "Daniel will probably go with the weird one" Jack added teasingly. Since he found out about Daniels crush on her, he took every given opportunity to tease him about it.

“I like her, she seems cool” Corbyn smiled goofily.

“Corbyn you like anything weird or different” Jonah rolled his eyes leaning against the fridge. “What draws you to her?” Jonah asked curiously.

“I don’t know” He replied annoyed “The little things she does like the dimples when she smiles or the way her eyes change colour when she sad and angry or happy and excited. The fact she doesn’t jump at every boy who passes her. The little things”

“Just ask her out already!” Zach pipes up placing a playful slap onto his best friends back.
“Hey! That’s what i said!” Jack whined “No one ever listens to little ol’ me” He added in a playful whine.

“Oh shut up you” Jonah replied teasingly causing Jack to fake hurt, placing a hand over his heart.

“I dunno, she probably doesn’t even like me any way” Daniel sighed getting up from his seat and heading to his room.

Your P.O.V

You laid on your bed staring up at the ceiling. It was late in the evening and you had nothing better to do. That was until your phone pinged. It would have been one of two people besides your mother and that was either your best friend Ella or Daniel.

‘Hey!’ You read rolling onto your side.

'Hey Dani’ you replied.

'You ok?’ He started a small conversation between the two of you. You spoke for hours, your messages varying in topics from music to why cartoon logic was extremely annoying. You enjoyed talking to him and with every message came another butterfly and another fear. Fear that he would soon realise that you where the weird one. No one liked the weird one. Those fears came true when you read that one message. Your heart sinking, an ache replacing it as your smile fell.

'I need to talk to you, it’s serious.’ He sent. You where too scared to reply, leaving him the job of double texting.

'I would rather we did it in person, meet you at the park?’ He asked. You glanced at the clock 3:15a.m.

'It 3:15’ you replied. Hoping he might change his mind.

'Sneak out? Please, I can’t wait’ He replied. You sighed in defeat. You really didn’t want to go. Afraid he may have guy of friend there as he threw away your friendship, everyone recording it to share.

'Fine’ You replied, rolling out of bed and changing into a cardigan, vest and leggings. You slipped on you vans and slipped out of the window. You headed down the empty streets to wards the park. He wasn’t there, maybe he was running late? Maybe it was a set up? Your mind raced with different thoughts. You pulled out your phone sending him a quick text.

'Hey, I’m here, I’m sat on the bench by our usual spot, hurry it’s cold and late’ You sent, begging to feel uneasy. That’s when you noticed Daniel followed by four others, confirming you dreaded thoughts. You got up ready to run but they had already caught up to you.

“Y/n! Thanks for meeting me at this ungodly hour” Daniel smiled, you offered a weak smile, your eyes flickering from Daniel to the boy with a camera.

“Daniel stop wasting time and get it over with” You heard another call harshly. The tall one to be exact. You heart beat quickened in fear and you slowly backed up. Stopping only when Daniel spoke.

Daniels P.O.V

“Daniel, come on you can do this” Jonah reassured. Daniel glanced back to see you slowly backing up.

“Y/n!” He smiled “I wanna ask you something” Began, he sent the boys a  nod and the blonde held up a large card followed by the other two. Each card reading “Will you” “Go To” “The Dance” You looked at Daniel in disbelief, a huge grin on his face as he held the final card. “With Me?” A large grin appeared on your face, mimicking his.

“Yes” You smiled brightly wrapping you arms around his neck. Surprised he took a moment to react, but when he did. He wrapped his arms tightly around you waist.

“I thought you would say no for a moment” He whispered into you hair. You could hear the boys cheering, the words finally coming from some of their mouths.

You pulled away looking into the skies known as his eyes.

“Why me?” You asked.

“The little things you do, say and are” He smiled “Like your dimples, you little giggle, and how you make sure that I’m happy before i go to sleep” He beamed causing you to blush. He pulled you back into a tight hug.

He chose the weird one, he chose you. He loved you.