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duskspring · 5 months

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Flowers and Sentences - Mountain/Cumulus

Domestic December - Day 23

Summary: Mountain tries to put together a special day for Cumulus

Content (do let me know if I forgot anything!): Cuddling, napping together, ruined plans, romance

Word count: ~2.9k

A/N: When I made a post related to this chapter @chapel-of-rizztual made a nice addition to it in the tags that I simply had to use here, so credit for that goes to him

Mountain poured all his focus into keeping his hands still, something that was much harder than usual seeing the cold temperature. He was in the process of cutting some flowers for a small bouquet. He had helped them grow from seeds to full bloom over the course of nearly two years.

He’d come across this particular kind in one of the gardening books in the library. They had caught his attention immediately, the big puffy white petals reminding him of a certain ghoulette’s flowing curls.

He caught himself thinking of Cumulus more and more as of late, the closer he got to harvesting the fruits of his labor. It had started with him wanting to plant something new, then him deciding to grow them for her, then thinking he needs to make it a big gesture.

Thus, he’d asked Cumulus to meet him for dinner that night. He was planning to cook her favorite meal, give her the flowers and say some pretty words. Which words exactly? He’d figure it out.

Mountain delicately tied the flowers together with a light blue ribbon, making sure none of them were squished against one another. He was lucky it had finally stopped raining and snowing for a few nights, leaving the plants and ground dry.

He smiled to himself, proud that he could give Cumulus something he’d worked so hard on. She deserved nothing less.

“I knew you’d be here.”

Mountain instinctively dropped the bouquet and turned around in a flash, trying to cover it and the bush they came from. Of all people, of course Cumulus had to come find here and now. She was dressed up warmly in a beanie and gloves he’d seen her knit herself, as well as a thick winter jacket. She looked positively adorable in the getup.

“I am,” He said stilted, “Did you need something?”

“Yes, actually. About tonight…” She seemed nervous, somewhat sheepish. Mountain’s heart sped up, mind immediately assuming she was going to cancel on him, “What should I wear? Like, will it be something fancy or just casual?”

A sigh of relief left the earth ghoul’s mouth, his shoulders sagging with the release of tension, “Uhm… We could totally make it something fancy, but I’m onboard for whatever you’re most comfortable with.” It really didn’t matter to him. On one hand, Cumulus was worthy of all things special and he wanted to prove he could provide that. On the other, he really did want Cumulus to be at her most comfortable around him.

“I’d like an excuse to dress up,” The ghoulette blushed a bit, “Are you busy right now?”

Mountain gazed over his shoulder to the bouquet. At least one of the flowers had probably been damaged when he dropped it, “A little bit. Do you need my help with anything?”

“Yes but no. I just thought maybe we could meet up a little sooner. Watch a movie and have some warm drinks.” She was fumbling with her hands, sensing that she may be interrupting something.

How could he possibly say no to that? Any chance to spend time close to her was a chance to take. But if he stood up and went with her now, there was no way she wouldn’t see the flowers already. He really wanted to keep those a surprise for a little longer, so he had to work around it here.

“Absolutely, I’d love to. But I need to finish everything here first, so maybe you could go set up already and I’ll join you soon in just a moment.”

“I could also help you.” Cumulus smiled brightly. She’d never been big on gardening, but she was just as desperate to spend time with Mountain as he was for her. Besides, it did always look very calming when he did it.

“No.” He immediately said, regretting it as soon as he saw her expression drop, “I just need to…” He tried thinking of an excuse, “Dethorn a few plants. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

The ghoulette seemed to understand, but stayed a little disappointed, “Aha. Well, be careful as well then. I’ll go get everything ready in my room.” She still made sure to smile at him, trying to cheer herself up as well.

“Thank you. I’ll make it quick.” He mirrored her expression.

The second she disappeared around the corner of the hedge, Mountain turned around in a panic. He examined the bouquet he’d dropped, indeed finding two of them squished and muddied. He untied the ribbon, removed those two, before tying it all together again.

He tried to stifle his disappointment. He still had a few left, and the bush would keep growing in the future. But it wasn’t about the future, it was about tonight.

In a hurry, he made his way back to the ghouls’ den, making sure he didn’t run into Cumulus at any point.

“What are you sneaking around for?” Mountain nearly dropped the flowers a second time, startled by Swiss’ voice.

“Swiss. Perfect.” Mountain waltzed up to him. He nearly shoved the plants into his packmate’s hands, wrapping his own around his to ensure Swiss actually held onto them, “Do me a favor and put these in a vase. Carefully. They’re for Cumulus but I’m not giving them to her yet.”

Without awaiting a response, Mountain hurried away again. He didn’t want to keep her waiting for too long. Once he got to her door, he allowed himself a second to take a deep breath before knocking.

“Come in.” She sounded like her usual cheerful self.

Mountain opened the door, immediately hit with the sweet smell of apple and cinnamon. Cumulus was already laying on her bed, a white woolly sweater and light blue pyjama pants adorning her body.

“There you are.” She smiled, her eyes nearly closing with how wide it was.

Mountain felt frozen in place for a moment. He was always so mesmerised by her beauty. If he didn’t know she was a hellspawn, he’d easily mistake her for a goddess. Snapping back to reality, Mountain stayed just outside of the room to take his boots off in the hall, instead of dirtying up her space. Without care, just wanting to get to her already, he dropped his jacket on the ground next to the shoes. He then stepped back inside and shut the door behind him, making sure to not slam it too hard.

“What’s that?” He asked about the beverages that waited for the two of them on a little tray on her nightstand.

“It’s warm apple juice with cinnamon.” She sounded very excited about it, “A sister had me try it once. It’s really yummy.”

Mountain picked up the two mugs as he came down on the mattress, handing one to Cumulus and inspecting his own. A lot of the cinnamon was merely floating on top of the juice, probably the reason why there was a spoon in there. The warmth tingled his cold hands, the smell automatically making him relax into the bed.

He moved his arm around the back of her bed frame, silently inviting the ghoulette to cuddle into him. She did so as much as she could, without spilling any of the contents in her cup.

“Did you have something in mind to watch?” Mountain asked, a suspicion already on his mind.

Her smile told him he was correct, “A new romcom was recently released.” She said as if it was just a random fact and not a suggestion.

The earth ghoul had never really enjoyed those types of movies before he started watching them with Cumulus. Even if he thought they were incredibly cheesy, he would never deny her the chance to watch something she genuinely enjoyed.

“Sounds like a banger.” He agreed, his heart melting when she snuggled further into his side in thanks.

It emboldened him to put his hand onto her waist, underneath her sweater. She shied away from the touch, yet further into his side.

“You’re cold,” She giggled.

“Oh, sorry.” Mountain made a move to remove his hand again, but she snatched it and held him in place.

“It’s ok. I’ll warm it up.” Her eyes twinkled.

Soon enough the movie was on, the drinks had been finished and both ghouls had slid down the bed frame to lay down in each other’s arms. Indeed, snuggling up like that was a great way to warm up.

Even after the credits rolled, they didn’t move. They’d made their way into a spooning position, Mountain being the big spoon. The two of them fit together so well. Mountain, with as little movement as possible, snapped off the light on the bedside table. Cumulus didn’t react, quite possibly already asleep like he was so close to being. He pushed his face into her curls, enjoying the fresh smell of her shampoo. Its floral scent reminded him of his garden.

His eyes shot open in sudden anxiety. He had been so eager to get to Cumulus he handed a very delicate, very important bouquet to Swiss, who had no clue how to keep them safe. But it would be fine, right? He was told to put them in a vase, how could he possibly mess that up?

Mountain tried to force himself to relax, to just enjoy this soft moment. Swiss didn’t deserve to get doubted like this, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Cumulus turned around in her sleep, her arms coming around Mountain to pull him a little closer. His heart melted once more, any anxieties vanishing in the instant. He stayed there, nice and warm and so very sleepy.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before he woke up to the sound of a commotion. Somewhere down the hall two people seemed to be shouting to each other.

Cumulus also stirred awake at the sound, but Mountain quickly shushed her, “Don’t wake up. I’ll go take care of it and get you when dinner’s ready.” He whispered. She hummed in agreement, rolling around as he got up.

Getting up groggily, Mountain nearly walked into the door as he rubbed his eyes. As he got closer, the racket down the hall seemed to be settling down.

“I’m sure Mountain will understand.” Dew’s voice sounded dismissive, at which point Mountain practically started running.

“Understand what?” He asked, even before he’d rounded the corner.

The kitchen was a mess. A dishcloth laid on the stove with a clear hole burned through it, a pan and something very charred laid discarded on the floor. But all of that wasn’t what caught his attention. The first thing Mountain noticed was a vase with very burned flowers sat less than a foot away from the stove.

He stared at them, not daring to step closer and assess the damage. That would make it too real.

“On the bright side,” Swiss carefully interjected, “one of them made it out alive.” He held the single left over flower out for the earth ghoul to grab. Mountain made no such move however.

“Who puts flowers right next to a stove?” His voice came out weirdly calm. Weird, because he was fucking fuming.

“Well, I didn’t think Dew’s would be this bad at cooking.” Swiss excused, before sighing and looking at the floor, “I’m really sorry.”

Mountain’s gaze still hadn’t moved away from the burned bouquet he’d build up to for so long. A part of him wanted to freak out, but he knew it wouldn’t solve anything.

“Get out. Both of you. I’ll take care of dinner.” He didn’t leave room for argument. Dew immediately scampered out, glad to escape a lecture. Swiss, on the other hand, stepped closer to Mountain cautiously.

“Where should I put-” The earth ghoul wordlessly snatched the flower from his hand before walking to the counter. With pain in his heart, he threw the burned flowers away and used the vase to preserve the final one. He put it away on the kitchen island away from the stove and got to work on the pack’s dinner.

The midday nap proved to have been a great idea. Cooking two separate times, once for the majority of the ghouls and then again for just Cumulus and him took a lot of energy. Although no one was forcing him to make two different meals, he wanted to do something special for his favorite ghoulette.

He went and set the final plates down on the dining table for everyone to dig in. He took a deep breath trying to switch his mental space towards the different recipe, almost forgetting he still needed to change into a more fancy outfit.

He jogged to his room to do so, putting on the one suit in his closet. It was a rich emerald green color. He put a simple black button up underneath and decided that as much as Cumulus deserved the best out of him, he did have to start cooking soon.

He walked back into the kitchen, freezing for the umpteenth time that day.

Cumulus was sitting on the counter, the stem of a very specific white flower being rolled between her fingers. Seeing them side by side, Mountain realized just how correct he had been in comparing the two. The bloom looked like a second, smaller version of the ghoulette’s glowing hair.

“I’m assuming you grew this,” She noted, not taking her eyes off of it, “It’s beautiful.”

“You weren’t supposed to see it yet. Then again, there were also supposed to be more of them so we can just forget about it anyway.”

That made her look up fast. She delicately put the flower back in the vase, walking up to Mountain and holding his face in her hands so he had no choice but to look her way, “Did something happen?”

Mountain leaned into the touch for a second before walking up to the trash can. Cumulus gasped when he held up the burned remains of the bouquet.

“Oh. Well, at least this one made it out.” She saw it from the bright side, gesturing to it.

“They reminded me of you.” Mountain explained further.

She moved a hand to her heart at that, truly touched, “Thank you so much.” Her voice was soft, her mind too filled with love to notice.

“At least there’s still dinner.” Mountain cheered up at her reaction to his somewhat failed gift. But the flowers had been only one part of the whole.

Cumulus clapped her hands, lifting herself back onto the counter to watch him. He’d taken his suit jacket off, so she got to admire the way the sleeves of his button up were rolled up, the muscles in his arms flexing every time he picked up a pan or cut vegetables. She’d asked to help out, but he’d insisted on spoiling her. Even if a part of her felt a little guilty at just sitting there, usually being the one who enjoyed taking care of others, she did appreciate the effort he was putting in.

She still did whatever he’d allow her to. She tasted small bits of the food so he could gauge her reactions and set out their plates and glasses at the small table that stood in the room.

While Cumulus was happy and calm, Mountain’s mind was racing still. He still didn’t really know how to word his feelings. He tried desperately to come up with what he’d say once they were seated. But there was simply not enough time.

“Done.” He sighed, a little tired but mostly disappointed in himself.

“Yay.” Cumulus beamed, ignorant to his internal struggle with himself. She hopped off the counter to quickly find her way to the table. Her chin leaned on her hands, elbows on the table and legs kicked under the table.

Mountain put their plates down and got the two of them something to drink before finally sitting across from her. He still wanted to come up with something, but as soon as he met her eyes any worry faded from his mind. He was content to simply be there with her.

“Cheers,” She smiled slyly, holding up her glass.

Mountain lifted his own glass and clinked it against hers, “Cheers.” He repeated.

After taking a quick sip, Cumulus brought one of her arms across the table in search of his hand. He grabbed hers, “I do really, really appreciate all you’ve done for me. Today and in general.” She smiled.

“There’s absolutely no need,” He lifted her hand to kiss the back of it, making her giggle a little nervously. He lowered it again very slowly, deciding that aimlessly searching for the right words wouldn’t help either of them, “Cumulus…” She looked at him kindly and expectantly. For a moment he thought of backing out again.

“I love you.” The two said simultaneously.

She giggled again, while Mountain sat awestruck, “Glad we’re on the same page.” She smiled.

“Yeah… But it so-”

“much more than that.” She finished the sentence for him. It was like she was reading his mind, knowing what he felt. Feeling the exact same way, “I know, dear. And I feel the same.” Her smile softened.

Mountain could only nod, not having expected it to go like this of all ways, “I’m glad.” He mumbled, grabbing her hand a little tighter.

[My Main Masterlist | Domestic December Masterlist]

#mountain and the Ghoulettes deserve more attention #especially together #the band ghost fanfiction #domestic december #mountain ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #ghost bc #nameless ghouls #headcanon #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost #the band ghost fic

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apprenticestanheight · 7 months

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I don't know if your taking requests still 😭 but I would kill for some reader and adam angst, like Adam and reader were in the trap and are both suffering with the aftermath of it, but they have eachother to help, fluffy and angsty💔❤️ but bit more angsty for reader, maybe PTSD triggers if your okay with that?.. thankyou!! I love your work and you're fr keeping my obsession alive 😭 idk what I'd do without your works, love you bb <3

We'll Be Okay- Adam Stanheight x gn! reader

Hi!! I love me a good post-bathroom trap centric fic (nearly all of mine for adam have been aus where he lived because I refuse to think otherwise) and writing this was a good distraction from my life as it is now so thank you for sending this in!

One thing before we get into it--Adam is where Lawrence was in terms of the trap, and the reader is where Adam was. They wake up in the bath tub like Adam did because I needed their fear of water to make sense and that was the way to do it.

Fic type- this is hurt/comfort with angsty elements

Warnings- mentions and depictions of undiagnosed PTSD (the reader does mention going to therapy eventually but that's not until the fic is near it's end as to my understanding, therapy wasn't that big of a thing nor was it normalized in a big way until the early-mid 2010s. Might also be wrong there but google refused to tell me very much so meh), depictions of flashbacks, mentions of a fear of the water and such hindering the ability to shower for longer than three or so minutes (make up wipes are used in place because it was my first thought), a mention of serial rapists (in terms of Jigsaws victims), mentions of guns and bullet wounds and guns misfiring, mentions of drowning and being shot into the bathtub, reader is afraid of water and the dark post-trap

TWO MONTHS POST BATHROOM TRAP

You'd escaped the bathroom trap with Adam two months before you found yourself standing in a garden in Jersey after having left your apartment for the first time in two weeks. You were wearing basic outfitting--a pair of black jeans, a white cable knit sweater because Jersey was finally cold enough for you to dig it out of your closet, black Dr Marten boots that you'd owned since high school and would never give up on despite the wear they'd accrued in the eight years since you'd graduated, a black cardigan and a white beanie because when Jersey was cold it was better to wear too much than wear too little.

You hadn't known what your goal of the day was when you'd woken up--grants that your closest friend had applied for for you to get funds after the traumatic incident covered your medical bills and had been covering your rent for the two months post escape. You were applying for jobs after quitting your other one because there were too many reminders of the trap there, but you'd decided the night before that you weren't going to go job hunting that day--but you knew you had to do something.

So, you got up. You did your best to shower--waking up in the bathtub and nearly drowning in it had hindered your capabilities to be under water for longer than three-ish minutes--and you told yourself that that was enough while you made sure you didn't stink by using make up wipes that smelled like your favorite scent.

You got dressed in the cable knit sweater you'd thrifted when you were eighteen, put on the black jeans you'd borrowed from a coworker that July but would probably never return, put on a couple of pairs of socks to help combat the cold while acknowledging that the Dr Martens you'd splurged on just a couple days before you were taken still needed breaking in. You grabbed the cardigan off of your coat hanger by the door, did up the three buttons on the waistline, and grabbed a hat when you remembered you needed to grab your phone and apartment and car keys before you left.

Then, you left your apartment. You decided to walk instead of drive and stopped by a local breakfast bakery because you'd been meaning to start supporting locally owned businesses anyway. You grabbed a cinnamon roll and your hot drink of preference, then you left the store and kept walking.

You found yourself standing in one of the only gardens in Jersey, the mornings frost dusting the grass in a way that makes it look almost more beautiful than it does in spring.

You breath in deep, the air bitingly cold, but you find yourself thankful for it. You've started noticing that you're thankful for a lot lately--after a couple of bullet wounds from Zepp and Adam both, you had to spend three weeks in the hospital just...healing.

The minute you stepped out of the hospital, you found your case wasn't quite old news and press just kept hounding you, going so far as to wait for you in the lobby of your apartment complex.

Coupled with that was the fact that you had to go to the police to give a statement while the events were still clear in your mind. Because of complexities on the force and with the Jigsaw case, your statements kept being interrupted because of how thin things were stretched even with the FBI on the case, so that occupied the first week of your second month out.

Then, it was a myriad of issues. You were too afraid to have the spaces in your place be dark, you couldn't handle being in the water for too long because Zepp had shot you into it when he shot you in the shoulder and the chest, being unable to move because Adam had misfired and shot you in the leg when the gun was within his reach and Zepp had tried to wrestle it away from him.

But, still. You took a deep breath in, watching the ground, and were grateful for that capability. Just like you'd thanked the barista who'd taken your order, thanked your luck that you'd woken up in your apartment rather than the bathroom like your nightmares had told you you would. Just like you would thank the first stray cat who ran up to you and rubbed their cheek against your hand when you extended it--Jigsaws aim had been to make sure you felt grateful for the life you got, and while it had left you traumatized, the innate urge to thank things that you'd taken for granted before seemed to come along with the fact that you'd survived.

You weren't grateful for the fact that you'd been trapped--the trauma you inherited along with the survival had kind of hindered that. Instead, your time was spent angered at Jigsaw for doing as he'd done.

"Y/N?" You hear your name being called, recognize the voice calling it instantly. "What are you doing in the garden? It's the middle of November."

You laugh a little bit as you turn to face him. "I don't know," you say. "I just--it's standing in the garden that will be relatively free of people until the spring or job hunting. I've been using a grant to pay my rent since we escaped, so I chose to do this instead."

Adam laughs a bit in turn, and you let yourself approach him.

He looks good--his hair has grown out a slight bit, he's got his camera slung over his hip. He's wearing glasses, too, and oddly enough they suit him.

He's wearing outfitting that you just think is so him--a pair of blue jeans, henley layered with a flannel or two, and a leather jacket. He looks better than good--he looks amazing.

"What do you do for work?" You ask in the interest of making polite conversation. "Are you still working as a--"

"PI? No," Adam says. "I work in photojournalism now. Don't even smoke as often as I used to, I get so damn terrified he's around and watching me."

You snort. "Oh, believe me, I can relate. I've debated adopting a dog recently but I'm too afraid that I'll see an old man sitting somewhere sketching away whenever I take them on a walk. I hate it, but it's the new normal so I guess all we can do is adjust."

"You could adopt a cat," Adam suggests. The two of you start walking toward the garden entrance. "Unless, of course, you decide to leash train them. In which case, just make sure they don't climb up a tree and I'm sure you'll be okay."

You laugh a little and realize that you haven't laughed so much since before the trap. It's a little disheartening, but you and Adam were dropped at two separate hospitals. You couldn't have talked to him before that moment, and you were going to cherish it and all the laughter it brought along.

"If I did adopt a cat, I would want to make sure I had a job beforehand. The grants my friend got me on can be used to pay for rent and other expenses but I don't want to adopt a cat using 'hey, you were traumatized and we can't fix that but here's some money!' money. You're able to apply for them up to three months after the incident, so if you're needing something to cover the rent and make sure you have adequate groceries from paycheck to paycheck, I'd look into it."

Adam shook his head. "Pfffffftt," he breathed. "What--rent money and grocery money? In this America? How foolish a thought!"

You laugh. You'd not experienced any trouble with putting food on your table thanks wholly to the grants, but before the trap you were making enough to cover rent and rent only and as such would frequent the foodbank nearest your apartment.

"Seems a luxury until you realize that living without roaches is, in fact, your right as a tenant. Does your new job at least pay you enough to move somewhere?"

"They gave me a place, actually! It's near my job and the rent is cut from my paycheck. I get five hundred for groceries which goes a long way when one is shopping sales and at places like Aldi," Adam says. "I'm also using a company owned car--my friend Scott knows someone who knows someone else. Got an interview, didn't flunk my way through it, and now I've got a solid set up, I think."

You smiled. You were so happy for him.

When you're within a foot of the exit, Adam sidesteps, gestures at it and lets you through first with a sarcastic grin on his face. "The one who's got more bullet wounds gets to leave first," he says as you exit.

"I don't have that many more than you do," you say.

"You have four," Adam says. "Two in the chest, one in the shoulder, one in the leg. I have one--a shoulder wound is nothing, especially considering that Zepps aim was off."

You smile close-lipped at him, and Adam shakes his head.

"I know," he says. "Too soon. 'M sorry I didn't visit you--I meant to find your number in the phone book after I'd gotten out of the hospital, but I didn't know if you'd gotten out yet and I didn't want to leave a voice message. Doing so would've felt pathetic, I think."

"It's all right," you said. "I was a mess until my last four days in--had I seen you, I think that I would've needed to be sedated. John definitely got to me in a way that was not very fun at the start."

"You're on a first name basis with him now?" Adam asks, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

"Oh yeah," you said. "Kramer and I get coffee every Wednesday, and I hear all about the relatively innocent people he plans to put into his murder machines. Not a lot of photographers, though--you must've been a one-off."

Adam snorts and you laugh, leaning against him a bit. It's like something in your dynamic has cracked, returned you to the people you were in the bathroom--Adams sarcasm, your riffing off of his responses and hitting back with your own. The difference is that Adam found the key to the chain around his foot in a cracked and lifted area of the floor two feet away from where the chain on his foot kept him, and left after finding that the key required for the cuff on your foot was different. You were stuck for a few days before Kramer and one of his accomplices freed you after asking if you'd held out hope and when you responded yes desperately because you were dehydrated and hadn't eaten and you were bleeding out.

Adam sighs. "I have to get to work, but I'll call you, okay? You have a landline?"

"Yeah," you nod. "It's the number beside my name in the phone book."

Adam nods. "Okay," he says.

And then you're watching him go, and the coldness of reality is returning.

FOUR MONTHS POST BATHROOM TRAP

In the months that follow, you end up with a job working in marketing. Adam calls your landline and you give him the number associated with your flip phone. You start meeting for coffee when your shifts line up and let you do so before or after work, and on the weekends and most weekdays you two are inseparable until midnight comes and you're telling Adam to call you in the morning while you go about your nighttime routines.

Adam stays over on the weekends, or you stay at his. It depends on who's place the coffeeshop or bar you go to after work is closer to because the two of you take turns choosing where.

When, two weeks into your second month post escape, you adopt the pair of stray kittens you find in the dumpster behind your apartment, Adam starts picking coffeeshops that are closer to your apartment than his own.

The cats are both boys and are named Cinnamon and Nutmeg for their brown coats. Cinnamon is completely brown all over and blue eyed, whereas Nutmeg is a calico that has shades of brown all over his back, paws, face and tail, where white is on his tummy and neck area.

Adam has spent more time taking photos of them than he'll willingly admit, but as time develops he also has a ton of photos of you doing anything and everything--opening the windows, falling asleep while you two watch a bad horror movie, doing some work from home, making coffee and tea, holding a joint, making breakfast, eating an edible.

He also realizes as time goes on that you are a lot worse off than he is. Three months in and you can't stomach the thought of going to the part of Jersey where the trap was located. You can't exist in spaces absent of light for too long, you look over your shoulder constantly because you're afraid that the act of lighting a cigarette while in a public space will have you trapped again. You cry a lot and are sometimes terrified to be in your apartment because you were taken from there, just like Adam was.

There are days where something sets it off and you're thrown off kilter so bad that you have a panic attack. Nutmeg the cat is very receptive to moments like that one, often rushing to your side with Cinnamon the cat on his toes, ready to press his face against your tear stained cheeks while you idly pet at the fur on the top of his head, and Adam lights the lavender candle you use because the scent of lavender is calming.

Three months in and Adam is suddenly fond of notebooks because he likes to keep track of the things that trigger it for you. Winter-era power outages from the wind are not at all helpful in your recovery post trap, he discovers. You hate it, even with the candles lit. You cannot stand living in the dark--it reminds you of waking up in the bathroom, waking inside a full bathtub with your foot chained to a pipe on one side of the room while Adam was chained to one on the other. You can't stand the smell of the sewage in downtown Jersey or the smell of the dumpsters behind your apartment building because it smells too much like the bathroom. You get anxious about the idea of taking baths and being submerged in the water and find showers difficult most days.

You thank baristas and hold the doors open for people. You thank Nutmeg and Cinnamon whenever they cuddle up next to you or in the all-too-common instance that Nutmeg tries to use kisses as a reason for you to feed him two dinners. You laugh at dogs in the park doing silly stuff and you love the taste of coffee. You watch the news warily whenever a new Jigsaw victim or survivor comes out of the woodwork and you love the job you ended up with. You can't stand the sight of Walkmans or the sound of cassette tapes. You seem to thrive off the sound of Adams laugh in the way he thrives off yours.

By the fourth month, Adam has realized that his lists of the things that set you off and their solutions have just become lists of things you do and don't really notice while you do them--the smile on your face when you feed Nutmeg and Cinnamon or choose to donate a dollar to whichever charity when you and Adam are ordering your coffee from the coffeeshop you've both taken a liking to near your apartment.

The way that you look when you're baking or the way that you look when you watch the sunset, the sound of your laugh in the mornings.

The way that you look when you've just woken up and are registering the fact that Adams hand is carding through your hair because he's been awake fifteen minutes longer than you have. The sheer excitement you seem to radiate while you make your first cup of coffee of the day, the serenity that takes you over whenever the two of you watch the sunset from Adams fire escape, the way that you lean against him, arm looped through his elbow, when things get too much or when the world gets too quiet.

His lists of the things that he likes about you and the ones about things that set you off are eventually put into two separate notebooks after a while of meaning to separate the two things and have two different styles--the ones of things he likes about you are rambles. They go on for pages at a time and there are more run on sentences than there aren't.

The lists of things that trigger your trauma responses are simple--Adam writes the trigger and the solution.

Staying in the dark for too long--consider buying a small lamp for corner of room as Christmas gift, light candles, open windows (cold is good--Y/N likes the cold. Helps keep them grounded) play shitty 80s horror movie so that there's light from the tv

The smell of sewage and dumpsters behind apartment complex--avoid the areas of Jersey where the sewage is prominent, tell Y/N to plug nose and breathe through mouth when taking the garbage down

They're simplistic in their own right, complex in that too, but they're good.

Adam is holding a six pack of donuts and a tray with two coffees from your favorite local breakfast bakery when he opens your door, startled to find it unlocked. Your apartment door was always locked unless Adam called beforehand and you knew you'd be in the shower when he showed up, thus unable to let him in, but he'd not called that morning. He knew you didn't have to work and neither did he, so the fact that your door was unlocked set him on edge almost instantly.

He proceeds in with caution, setting the coffee and donuts on your coffee table. Nutmeg the cat meows at him before starting in the direction of your fire escape, the curtain drawn to a close over the window through which you got to it. When Nutmeg turns around to make sure Adam is following, Adam starts to.

He pulls the curtain over your window back, blinking a little in the surprise he feels as he realizes that it's mostly closed. Your back is pressed against the railing, your body facing the window, your eyes closed but your face tilted skyward.

Adam opens the window, steps onto the fire escape. He closes the window behind him after gently shooing Nutmeg the cat indoors so that he doesn't have to deal with the cold bite of Jersey in January.

"Y/N?" He asks in a voice that's barely above a whisper. He's helped you through panic attacks as you've helped him through the same, but he's never seen you like that before.

Your eyes open. You don't look at him.

"Do you ever get nightmares?" You ask.

Adam inhales sharply. His capabilities as far as sleep are concerned have been detrimentally affected since he escaped the bathroom trap. He went from getting somewhere just past the seven hour threshold on weekdays and nine or ten on weeknights to nightmares no matter how mundane the day. Because of the nightmares, he'd averaged out to three or four hours a night, two on his worst and five on his best.

"Every night since I left," he says. "When I escaped, I had a nightmare about leaving you behind--which, I did at first. I'm sorry about that, by the way."

You were chained to a pipe near a bathtub. Adam had been chained to a pipe near the door. Adam had found the key in a cracked and lifted part of the floor about two feet away from him after several hours of bickering and telling Adam to shoot you despite his protests. That day had been one of the worst days of your life.

Still, four months after your escape and well into a January in the city of Jersey, the days you spent starving to death, fading in and out of consciousness and bleeding from four wounds barely managed to top that.

"I didn't have too many," you say. "Not until recently--went for a three month visit to check on the wounds in my chest. Think that spurred me on a little, and I've been having them for three weeks now."

"What are yours about?" Adam asks.

You meet his gaze. Adam is startled to find that he can probably drown in the relief he feels as you do, following it by a gentle shake of your head and a smirk while you stretch your right leg out, crossing your ankle over his left foot. Adam presses his back against the window and idly wishes he could smoke.

"Nah," you say. "Nope. You first."

"Leaving you behind, mostly," he admits. "Some are about one of us being put into a trap again, the other of us being forced to watch them die. Mundane stuff compared to what old man Jigsaw is known for, right?"

You laugh. "Mine are somewhat the same," you say. "You leave me behind, but it's your choice to do so. Others center around my experience escaping, most are about drowning in the bathtub while you hold me, though. Sweet stuff--you're sobbing and you kiss my forehead and you ask the sky 'why, why them?'"

Adam snickers. "Had that been how it happened, I absolutely would've done that," he says. "God isn't really someone I believe in, but I would've stopped believing in him had you died. I uh--well, people have been put into Jigsaw traps for worse than us, right?"

"Worse reasons, and pettier ones, too," you say. "You spy on people, I fudged the data on a couple of marketing reports when my old boss promised me a raise, which you ended up investigating."

You approach and Adam welcomes your embrace, settling with you sitting against the fire escape railing by the window, one of Adams legs up and your leg tucked beneath it while the other sat near his foot, your foot resting against his calf.

"We're going to be okay," you say. "I mean--not now. Probably not by March, but we will be, I think."

Adam scoffs. "You think?"

"I don't know," you shrug. "Nothing is certain, really, but if I'm remembering correctly, 'time heals all wounds' was, in fact, my senior quote. Either that or something from a Jane Austen novel."

Adam laughs, presses a kiss against your forehead. You relax for a minute, eyes closing as you breathe the cold air in and whatever kicked up that trauma response seems to settle.

"For the record--I think we'll be fine," he says. "I mean, my margin for fine is a little on the low end, but I really do think we'll get there one way or another. We have to."

You grin at him, take his hand.

An unspoken truth exists there--you'll be okay if you have each other. You'll claw your way to okay if you have to, but you'll get there and you'll do with hands entwined, no matter how exhausting it becomes.

SIX MONTHS POST BATHROOM TRAP

You were working. You liked your job. Yours and Adams romantic relationship had been going on for a month when you decided to turn on the news on a crisp evening somewhere near the second week of March.

Another case. Another victim and survivor both, another instance wherein Jigsaw completely evaded capture and no leads on his location are findable.

Sometimes, despite the number of good days you have, you have bad ones, too. Adam is the same--his trauma isn't as bad as yours in the long run, but sometimes his nightmares throw him for a loop or he finds the darkness too unsettling or he gets too close to the part of town where the trap was without realizing until it's too late.

You both have your bad days and your bad weeks, and you've both come to rely on each other during those times. Adam knows how to get you onto the ground again when you feel like you are floating outside of yourself, and you know how to help him when his nightmares have left him helpless, drowning in the thought that he'd left you to die alone in the bathroom.

Adam knows your signals well enough, which explains the closeness he keeps to you when he shows at your apartment after his shift where yours had ended only forty-five minutes beforehand and you'd been home for all of thirty.

You'd managed to take a shower in that time, but in combination with your trauma exacerbated by a nightmare when you'd slept the previous night, it still left you reeling. Every drop of water against your skin was another reminder of the fact that you'd been shot into the bathtub, would've drowned if not for the fact that Adam pulled you out in a panic.

So, you were standing in your living room, your hair was damp. the news was on in the background, some reporter droning on about the specifics of the newest set of survivors and the victims who'd been identified thus far.

You were wearing a pair of adidas joggers and one of Adams hoodies, socks covering your feet because your floors were always cold. You were asking Adam if he wanted to order a pizza while he interlaced your fingers and nodded, pulling you back toward him when you started walking away and pressing a kiss to your forehead when you melted into his embrace for a split second.

You ordered the pizza while your brain was still trying to process everything, some part of you wanting to go back to watching the news despite knowing that such probably wasn't in yours or Adams best interests.

Once the pizza was ordered, you and Adam went to your living room. Adam looked at you how he looks at you when he's trying to determine the best way to help and ends up pulling you close, the two of you swaying along to the tune of the weatherman reporting the next week of Jersey springtime temps.

You're shaking, still a little on edge. You've been the way that you are for six months, and in those six months you've tried everything that you can short of going to therapy.

You bought melatonin gummies to combat the fear of falling asleep and thus falling victim to another nightmare and you take them as the fear sets in.

You've started gradually working on your fear of water rather than doing as you used to--forcing yourself under the shower head and trying to wash and condition your hair while in the midst of a panic attack--and you're slowly starting to work on your fear of the darkness, though you doubt you'll ever again find solace in it like you used to.

Adam, though, is a delightful constant in a life that, before your trap, was almost completely absent of them. You see each other daily, have each others backs and can read each other like neither of you can read anyone else.

Adam knows you inside and out, and that's why he knows to keep close while you sway, hands interlaced in order to keep yours from shaking.

Externally, you just seem like a couple in their mid twenties, swaying along to the music in their hearts while the news talks in detail of the latest local and global tragedies.

Internally, though, you're stuck in the bathroom again. Your chest is stinging with the reminder of the two bullets that were shot into it. Your leg aches like the wound is new and your shoulder begs for a reprieve from the burn of a bullet wound.

Internally, you're watching Adam try to jam the key into the lock attached to the chain on the cuff attached to your foot. He's angry because it's not working and you're begging him to go because you don't want him to see you bleeding out.

You're telling him "If you go, you have a shot at saving me. Go and get help, Adam. Please."

And he's responding. "I'm not going to leave you behind," and your hand is against his face, one of his is on your hip and you're both covered in blood that is his and yours both. Zepp Hindle is dead. The doors have slid open and Adam can go.

You push him away. "Please," you croak.

And then you watch Adam go, hope leaving you as he turns his back after promising that he'll come back and find you, even if it kills him.

Internally, you are once again the person who fell into murky bathtub water, and you're hearing Adams shouts as Zepp tries to drown you but Adam fights him off and yanks you out.

Internally, you are person startled awake by the feeling of two hands against your shoulders. You're mumbling Adams name.

"No," says a grizzly voice. It's the kind that just...has to belong to an older guy, the kind that you would hear from some sixty year old who'd chainsmoked his way through the previous ten years of his life.

"I have a question for you, Y/N," the voice is saying. "Have you held out hope for Adams return?"

In your bouts of consciousness, the first thing that you've spoken has been his name. "Yes," you're croaking, voice raspy from the disuse and the fact that you haven't drank water in days.

"Congratulations, then. You've passed your test, and it is time you got to a hospital."

Internally, you're hearing the sound of keys being inserted into the lock on the chain that holds your foot captive. You're being carried bridal style out of the building by a woman, dropped into an SUV. You're blacking out, starving and dehydrated, while you're driven to the hospital.

Then Adams voice meets your ears. "Y/N?" One of his hands moves to the small of your back. Your hand starts shaking but Adam moves it to his face, your thumb against his top lip. "Come home. We aren't in the bathroom--not anymore."

You're breathing in. Your eyes are opening as you trace your thumb over Adams lips. Adam steps just a little closer as your hand moves from his lips to his shoulder. You're careful not to touch the wound there.

"We're okay," Adam says. "It's been six months. Today, actually--it's the six month anniversary. I made it out and I called for help while I was sitting on a gurney in the ambulance. I didn't leave you behind, I promise. I told you I wouldn't and I didn't."

Despite the inklings of progress you've made, Adam senses that the reassurance isn't bringing you back like it's meant to. He tries to think of what you'd told yourself after a series of flashbacks--he's got it written somewhere, and despite himself, knows it almost like the back of his hand.

"Your name is Y/N L/N," he starts. "It's been six months since you escaped the bathroom trap, which you were placed into on September 10th, 2004. You were put into the trap because you fudged data for the promise of a raise that you desperately needed because your boss had lowered your pay to the point where it was either covering rent or eating on payday."

You did it like that--your name, the duration of time since you'd left the trap, the day you were put into it, the reason. That was always how it started.

"You are twenty seven years old," he continues. "You have two cats named Cinnamon and Nutmeg and you thank everyone for everything all the time. You say sorry a lot, too, and you like weed but you find nicotine a little disgusting because of how it tastes and the headaches smoking leaves behind.

"You like the coffee and baked goods from Maries on the corner of Cornelia and 45th. You hate the water and you hate the dark and you hate being left alone when the loneliness of that sets in, but you love things too. You love sunrises and sunsets, the smell of coffee and Jersey in the winter."

You squeeze his shoulder a bit, press your forehead against it. Adams hand moves from your lower back up to your shoulder, falling down your arm. He gives the hand of yours that is still tucked into his a squeeze.

"You love it when Nutmeg meows at you, the way that Cinnamon always runs to the good spot for sunbathing in front of your fire escape," he says. "You love late nights and the opportunities they give you in the realm of stealing my sweaters. You love cinnamon buns and music and the sound of birds chirping, and in an unexpected turn of events, your favorite movie is 1987s 'The Princess Bride'. You escaped the trap and we're in your apartment, we've ordered food, and everything is as okay as it can be right now."

You take a deep breath in. Adam squeezes your hand again, presses a kiss to your forehead.

"You surprisingly put up with my music taste despite the fact that ours differ," he says. "And you survived. You survived, Y/N. We both survived, and that has to count for something, at least."

Internally, the flashback ends. You exist outside of yourself for a solid thirty seconds more before Adams lips against your forehead brings you back to the ground.

"Thank you," you say, offering a weak smile. Adam grins back, reassuring and warm.

"Anytime," he says.

Six months in, things are okay. They could definitely be better, but they're okay enough and that's what really matters.

TWELVE MONTHS POST ESCAPE

The six months to follow are relatively decent--Adam moves into your apartment and his paycheck is bumped up significantly as he's not living where the company was paying for him to.

You find a therapist you like in order to work on your residual trauma and start going in every Saturday from two to four. You and Adam buy Cinnamon and Nutmeg a cat tree almost as tall as the wall in your living room and every single morning becomes one full of tired, groggy voices, hugs from behind and the sound of exhausted laughter.

The morning of September fourteenth comes quicker than you or Adam had expected for it to, but you try to go about your day as normal. Jigsaw is still at it, wherever he's ended up. You wake that morning to news of a detectives disappearance and one of his past victims having been tested again. There were two survivors in total--Amanda Young and Daniel Matthews, the son of the missing detective.

You try not to let it dampen your mood and decide to order breakfast rather than make it--you have the day off, as does Adam. You took it because you figured it wouldn't be a very good day and Adam took it because he wanted to suffer with you, in his words.

Off the bat, there's nothing that triggers it. Sure, the news has you in a tizzy as you discover that a group of people was placed into what evidence is reportedly calling "The Nerve Gas House," and you feel a moment of resentment for the fact that all of it is being sensationalized by the media, but that barely scratches the surface. It doesn't trigger much more than mild anxiety and resentment as you really start thinking about it. More people dead. Two left alive.

You wonder how Eric feels, how Amanda feels--both of them are being bombarded by the media just like you and Adam were, and you remember that much as though it were yesterday.

The true crime reporters were a different kind of ruthless, some of them trying to visit you while you were still in the hospitals recovery unit. News reporters also kind of sucked, but then it seemed like everyone wanted a scoop, and you could recall being told to "savor your fifteen minutes of fame" once by one of the particularly ruthless reporters who tried to visit you, even going so far as to open the door to your hospital room and enter while you were high on morphine and still being hydrated through an IV.

The entire thing has made you angry in recent months--Jigsaw, you can admit, puts a very wide scope of people into his traps. It ranges from people with a history of drug addiction or people like you who'd committed relatively minor offenses for decent reason to serial rapists and people who were the direct cause of someone elses death.

The ones who survive his traps are usually left with something to serve as a consistent reminder. For you it is back-of-the-mind worry about things in relation to your heart because two bullets were lodged there for several days. For Adam and you alike, it is the fact that you feel the bad weather before the bad weather hits because you'll get pain in your legs and your shoulders. For others, its the scars that self mutilation has left behind, sometimes even as far as consistent reminder of the loss of a limb coupled with the trauma and the responses developed from it.

So--the thing that makes you angry about all of it is that people survive the things that Jigsaw puts them through, and then, traumatized and having been given a hefty medical bill, the media circus will start. They'll be harassed by reporters as they walk down the street or after giving their statement to the police and the harassment will just continue until the next case comes around.

But, you suppose its better to digress. You turn the news off as you get a call that your food has arrived. Adam, having woken up and taken a shower only to get redressed into a pair of sweatpants and one of the baggy cableknit sweaters you loved digging out of your closet come the first of September, gets it from the door and thanks you for ordering food.

You sit and eat your breakfast while laughing at Cinnamon as he tries to steal Adams bacon, where Nutmeg the cat has settled between your side and the corner of the couch, head on your thigh as he purrs because you'd given him a few pieces of shredded cheese earlier, when you were snacky before you stepped into the shower and braved your way through standing under the water longer than five minutes.

Adam looks to you for help, and you shrug. "You're the one who took it upon yourself to feed him a small piece of bacon when he was nine weeks old," you say.

He laughs a little, holding his bacon egg sandwich in the air and laughing at Cinnamons persistence as he jumps from Adams lap to his shoulder, stretching out over Adams arm.

"I aided in the raising of a demon cat," he says. "You adopted a demon cat."

"I adopted two demons," you said. "I just don't happen to like bacon and Nutmeg calms down when I give him a little shredded cheese once every few weeks."

Adam shakes his head and relents, ripping a small piece of bacon off and letting Cinnamon have it. He's able to eat peacefully from there, Cinnamon settling on the couch cushion behind him.

You eat breakfast in a medley of calmness, talking about work and the apartment and getting snippy at one point, Adams sarcasm coming into play and you reminding him of how quick witted you can get when you riff off his sarcasm like it's nothing. You both mention how good a walk in the gardens sounds while the gardens are still walkable and not bitten by frost, but don't end up deciding to go right then.

There comes a point where Adam moves closer to you and you curl against his side and there's a silent knowledge that passes over you.

The one year anniversary of Adams escape was four days ago. The one year anniversary of your escape is today. Three days exist between the 10th and the 14th, all of which you spent alone. You were alone in that hospital, just as Adam was alone in his. Neither of you had reached out to your families beyond a few stunted phone calls, but you were still alive. A year gone and you were still standing.

Adam presses a kiss to your forehead. "'M sorry I left."

"I told you to go."

"I know, but I feel like I should've stayed."

You turn to look at him, shaking your head. "No," you say. "Had you stayed, we both would've failed and we would've been left for dead. You left because I begged you to go, you got to stay alive, and so did I. We both passed the test that Jigsaw set up for us and now we're here. You can't wallow in the what-ifs, okay? I already know how it would've ended had you stayed and I am relentlessly glad that you didn't."

You press your forehead against his. He grabs your hands. You interlace your fingers and give his hands a squeeze. Of course that day was not going to be an easy one--a year gone already? A year of nightmares, of flashbacks, of good and bad moments both, passed you by like it were a blink.

"We're okay," you whispered. "And we're okay because you left. You left, Adam, and you saved my life."

You pull away, meet his gaze. He's looking at you like you're the love of his life and he hates that leaving you was something he had to do at all.

"We're okay," you whisper.

"We're okay," Adam nods.

To tell the truth of it, you're not sure whether or not you're lying to yourselves. If you are lying to yourselves, however, then the lie is pretty damn convincing.

You and Adam end up walking through one of the only gardens in Jersey as the sun goes down. It's the first time you've been to the garden in ten months, and the ten months that have passed have been ones that were good, bad, everything.

Adams hand is interlaced with yours. Your cheek is against his shoulder. Things don't really feel okay, but you know that they will start to eventually.

But, there is also the truth within that that 'okay' is not a constant. There will be moments of your life wherein the thing in its entirety comes crashing down upon you, moments where you feel like breathing is a struggle, like blinking will make you exhausted. There will be moments wherein you're okay, moments where okay elevates to good. Good elevates to great, and great elevates to amazing.

There is not one constant state of feeling or emotion, there is not one constant state of being. Things will fluctuate, as they do, and as Adam lifts his camera to snap a photo of a stray cat, you think, for the first time since your escape, that you're fine with that.

Whatever the next phase of your life looks like, whatever it means for the trauma that still lingers from your time spent in the bathroom trap, you can handle it. With Adam by your side, with your apartment and the adorable cats you adopted two and a half months after you'd been dumped at a hospital with severe bleeding, blood loss, and several bullet wounds, you can handle it. Whether or not you'll be okay throughout all of that time, you'll handle it, and that's what matters.

#adam stanheight #adam stanheight x reader #saw 2004

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the-slasher-madame · 2 years

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Hey it’s me again lmao. I loved the last head cannons you did for me so I wanted to come back. Can you maybe do head cannons for teaching Brahms, Vincent and Thomas how to crochet? I’m learning myself and I think it’s pretty fun. Thank you stay groovy <3

I will eternally groove my humble broski, just for you. Ahhh I love this cause I knit!!! I was knitting a blanket but I vastly underestimated how much yarn I would need, so it may just be a scarf instead (I was gonna knit in strips...it may not be a single strip). My aunt crochets, she'd make dresses for my dolls when I was younger. Enjoy dear!!!

Brahms Heelshire:

This is going to go one of two ways. One, he will lose his goddamn mind. Rage quits like he's fighting sans in Undertale. Cannot sit still long enough and has no patience for the needle and the possible issues of A) the yarn starting to unravel or 2) it's too small/big for him to work with well

Personally, I don't know if that's my favorite. I think the second way it goes is he picks it up instantly (or maybe even already knows how, it seems like something his mother would do it and he'd pick it up to pass the time in the walls/connect to his mother, or she made him learn how to)

Going on the second path, he fricking loves it. Perfect way to fidget, to have a part of him moving. He'd make y'all a blanket to like, celebrate/commemorate your relationship. Then he moves on to beanies (I need him in a beanie like yesterday).

I do think he would get frustrated at first, especially if he's trying to make you something. He also could spend hours looking for yarn online. Could, would, and will

He'd make plushies, but you would have to beg him to. After he makes one, he's hooked (get it? Hehe). Would absolutely make stuffies of you and him, any pets y'all may get, favorite animals, everything (do you need like a pattern/recipe for crocheting plushies? And if anyone knows how to read a knitting recipe let me know haha-)

I love the image of you coming back from a very brief grocery run and he has some granny glasses on, the ones with the beaded string around the back, and he's just working away on a blanket

Relating to that, he stress-crochets. I've stress-knit before, and I can see him doing that if you have to go out for any period of time (keeps his stuffie of you in his lap and talks to it until you get back).

You have unlocked Granny Brahms, before long he starts baking apple pies Vincent Sinclair:

I'm a fairly crafty fellow myself, and I have a personal mission to learn as many types of art as possible. Vincent is the same way, and considers crocheting to fit under this category.

I don't think he has trouble with it at all, he's got pretty nimble fingers and can keep track of the yarn and the hook

I can also see him with the granny glasses, sitting by candlelight in the house or his workshop. AND he already worries about you like a grandmother, it fits perfectly lol

Loves making blankets and throws to stash around the house (IDK why it's hotter than hell in Louisiana). Would try to make things to make the town look more lively, and would store his extra blankets in one of the houses

AKJHFHD I can see him having certain sets of blankets for different seasons, like how clothing brands have the fall sets and winter sets and whatever? He's serious about his blankets

HE'D MAKE JONSEY LITTLE HATS AND BOOTIES OH MY GODDDDD

Would probably explore making plushies on his own, and gift you with one, then another one, and another one, and maybe just one more- (I am attached to my stuffies, even if mine aren't crocheted).

I don't think he'd make a family of stuffies like Brahms, but he'd absolutely make one of you to keep on his desk

Makes Jonesy toys, absolutely

Has a wide, varied range of yarn, and if he has to ask one of his brothers to get him yarn, he is very specific. This man is an artist, he will have the right color and he will dumb it down for his brothers to make sure they get the exact shade he needs

No he'd paint little cards with the color he needs 😭

I think he would like crocheted tops, both for the statues and for you. . . Thomas Hewitt

Ohhh this man is another crafty one, already has like a case full of hooks

It'd be cool to think he might have crocheted his first masks, not sure I'm sold on that but food for thought

Luda would teach him to crochet, it gives him something to do especially when he can’t play with the other kids and switches over to homeschooling

Makes blankets, even if it’s entirely too hot in tex-ASS to wear skin let alone fabric

Anyways along the lines of Luda Mae teaching him, she’d always look out for different colors she thinks he may like. Buys him yarn and hooks and is overall the supportive mother we all want and need

I think he’d also like crocheted clothes👀and he would kill Hoyt for even breathing lewdly near you

Plushies. Makes all the plushies. Makes you all the plushies. Every farm animal imaginable. They are yours

OMG WHAT IF HE HAD SHEEP AND MADE HIS OWN YARN THA’D BE SO CUUUUTE

Thomas makes his own yarn confirmed

I think he’d be really patient with crocheting, but he might get a little frustrated with smaller yarn and hooks cause his fingers are kinda big (yummy)

Awww no what if he made potholders for the kitchen, OH AND MAKES LUDA MAE GIFTS FOR HER BIRTHDAY NO CAP

One time, Hoyt said it was “wrong” and emasculating (not his words, he doesn’t know what that means) for Tommy to crochet, so Tommy crocheted a blanket with the phrase ‘fuck you’ on it and gave it to Hoyt for his birthday

Luda chuckled and told Hoyt he got what he got, Tommy was grinning under his mask, and Monty laughed and stole the blanket (and still uses it to this very day)

Ok I tried!!!! I loved this prompt so much, knitting and crocheting are so much fun and these are the three that I feel like would enjoy yarn crafts. I hope you like it!! <333333

#slashers #slasher fucker #slasher x reader #slasher community #slasher fluff #slashers crochet #brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire fluff #brahms heelshire headcanons #brahms heelshire x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair fluff #vincent sinclair x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt fluff #thomas hewitt headcanons #thomas hewitt x reader #vincent sinclair headcanons

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titlemewickedwonderland · 2 years

Text

Autumn Selfie - Jamie Campbell Bower

If you love my work please consider reblogging! <3

She loved Autumn. She loved the crisp cool air on her morning walks. She loved the gentle crunch of leaves in the shades of red, yellow, orange, and brown. She even enjoyed the dampness of the air on days that it rained. Most of all though she enjoyed the way the ambiance of the city took during the season's change. Just like a holiday coming around the corner the season of Fall had that extra spark of magic that most people didn't recognize. She did though and she loved it. Her morning walks always led her down the path that had those big trees in the color of a sunset lining the path as she walked by street houses in the early morning of the weekend. A soft drizzle was starting to come from the dreary-looking clouds but a quick flick of an umbrella over her head shielded the young woman from the rain. Her rainboots helped protect her feet from the puddles that were starting to form on the concrete and on top of the shield of leaves as she walked down the road to the stop light. Her hand reached out to press the cold metal of the sidewalk pole while she patiently waited for the sign to blink to that green shape of a person to tell her she could cross the streetway. Her head was softly bobbing along to the gentle music playing in a pair of white Bluetooth earbuds in her ears that barely peaked from beneath her beanie hat; the faux fur pom-pom knitted into the top swaying and bouncing with every gentle bob of her head. Hands without gloves were tucked into her winter coat keeping the autumn air from her skin as much as possible.

She was dressed for the type of weather as much as her limited wardrobe allowed her. An oversized brown knitted sweater was tucked into a pair of black leggings that were lined with fur inside to keep her warm and she the aforementioned rainboots that seriously didn't match with the subdued hues of her outfit with its bright yellow rubber. But she didn't care. She was happy to be walking outside in this sort of weather and even happier to be able to walk to the local coffee shop that was just a block away from the rented studio apartment for her stay here in New York. Y/N had come out here for a mini vacation after she and her significant other broke up after a long 2-year relationship when she caught them cheating on her with someone who she claimed was her friend. Backstabbing bitch. So away she'd packed her things for a 2-week stay in New York to visit some museums and art shows, maybe check out some cool shopping stores, and generally just…site see the places that her imaginative mind could soak up during her stay. The reality was that she was running away from her problems as if they could be fixed simply by removing herself from the situation. Of course, the backstabber and homewrecker would be there waiting after she came back but for now she had this time for herself to recollect and redefine who she was.

When the light finally turned green she was quick to put one foot in front of the other to cross the street with the others who had gathered behind her. New York was always so busy no matter the time of day. Just like the brisk walkers of the residents here Y/N followed foot traffic until the gently swaying sign above the door to the coffee shop came into view. She was quick to follow her nose straight inside. Sighing at the warmth of the shop itself but also because the smell of fresh ground coffee was everything! She loved the decor inside too. Definitely decorated for the Autumn atmosphere to make it like a cozy nook. Fairy lights draped across the ceiling and pillars with fake plastic autumn leaves and vines with potted plants gracing the window sills and tables. Y/N loved this place because despite it being small it was a local favorite for not only the freshest coffee but also because it was a small family business owned by an old grandpa and his two sons who worked the coffee like they did their customers. With familiarity, respect, and charm. You'd never taste a better cup of coffee than at The Java Bean. That much was obvious by the long line already to the register where said old grandpa Louis was chatting up a customer as he placed the orders on the computer.

The young woman smiled to herself and glanced around the coffee shop for a place to sit if any seats were still open by the time she got her coffee. Her favorite booth in the back by a large window was still open and she was keen to sit down in the plush leather booth to enjoy her book tucked away inside her jacket while surrounded by the scent of fresh coffee and Fall ambiance. As she looked around she noticed a handsome man standing behind her. He looked oddly familiar even beneath the grey flat cap he wore; she say vaguely familiar because she didn't want to be rude by turning around to stare so blatantly so instead she'd given a quick glance his way as if she was looking around behind her at the shop. She didn't see enough details of the man just that he was blonde, tall, and looked handsome from what small glimpse she'd seen from her once over.

When she finally got to the front she smiled widely at the grandpa while taking out her earbuds and tucking them back into her jacket pocket. "Good morning Louis! How are you feeling this morning? You're chest cold gone?" she asked as a form of greeting

"Y/N my darling girl! Your usual?" at her brief nod he typed in her order before answering her question with a jolly laugh. "I am feeling much better thanks to you! That homemade remedy helped this old man greatly! Back on my feet like an young sprite." he stated before he rung her order up. "That'll be $5.89."

"Good! That was the idea, wouldn't want my favorite coffee shop owner dying on me now do I?" she grinned playfully as she began to reach for the small leather wallet she usually kept in her coat pocket only to find the pocket empty.

Frowning she searched the other pocket only to find a tube of chapstick and her earbuds she'd placed inside moments before instead. Feeling a little embarrassed she looked up at Louis. "Okay, nevermind then. Um, looks like I left my wallet back at my place Louis. I'll have to take a raincheck on that coffee-" she began but someone reached over her shoulder and held out a $20 bill towards the man while the soft tone of a British accented voice spoke near her ear.

"Regular coffee please with 3 sugars, a pump of hazelnut, and a few packets of sugar on the side. I'll pay for the lady's as well." The older man behind the counter looked over at Y/N as if asking if the man behind her was with her but she was already turning around to face the kind stranger.

"Absolutely not! I can just go grab my wallet and come back for my coffee there's no reason for you to pay for me-" her words died in her throat when she got a good look at the sharp features that stared back down at her with a soft smile and blue eyes piercing her own E/C ones.

"I insist. I'd hate for you to walk back home in the rain for your wallet love. Really, it's no trouble." those blue eyes lifted from hers to the old man and handed him the money over.

"Coming right up, young man." Louis hid a small grin as he took the money and exchanged it for the recipe and the change which the blonde man grabbed graciously before stuffing all the change in the tip jar on the countertop and instead only allowing the receipt to be tucked away into his pocket.

Feeling a bit embarrassed but touched by the man's gesture the young woman walked behind him over to the pick up counter where she could see Aaran, one of Louis's sons making their orders. Biting her lip Y/N looked up at the blonde who stood watching with patient eyes as Aaron went about his task at making the coffees but feeling her eyes on him his own gaze turned to her and his lips curled up into a smile.

"Would you like a picture? Or an autograph? Might last longer than staring, love" he chuckled when his question made her cheeks darken in color.

"Am I that obvious?" she questioned with a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to stare. I know celebrities don't tend to like being ogled but…I mean…" she faltered but the blonde merely flasehd her a charming smile full of teeth and held out a hand out to her.

"Then let's do this properly. Hello there, I'm Jamie Campbell Bower, a pleasure to meet you, darling." Y/N's teeth sank into her bottom lip as she shyly placed her smaller hand in his and shook it.

"I'm Y/N. It's very nice to meet you too Jamie. And thank you again for the coffee…I owe you one. If you have like cashapp or something I can totally pay you back-"

"Don't be ridiculous." he laughed "I don't want you to pay me back. You're alright," he told her sincerely.

It didn't slide past her that he had yet to let go of her hand and instead was holding it between both of his and rubbing at her skin. She realized this was because her hands were freezing cold from the walk along the block in the rain without a pair of gloves. It was a cute gesture but sadly was soon broken when Aaron placed their coffee down on the counter. Jamie let go of her hand in favor of grabbing both of the cups and held one up to his eyes as he read the label.

"White chocolate mocha with chocolate drizzle and whipped cream." one brow raised playfully before he held it out towards her. "Sounds like a sugar overload." he joked as she took it from his grasp; fingertips grazing each other as they exchanged the hot beverage.

"It's good, Don't knock it till you try it mister." her nose playfully wrinkled as she took a sip from her hot cup and watched as he popped open his own coffee and began pouring a few packets of sugar into it from the display of condiments at the end of the counter.

"If you don't mind my asking Y/N where you from? You don't sound like someone from New York." Jamie commented as he stirred the liquid a few times and replaced the cap before turning towards her with a curious but polite smile on his face.

"Oh, I'm actually from H/T (Home town) I'm just here visiting…" she shrugged as she shifted out of the way for other customers to stand by the counter for their pick up order.

Jamie nodded as he placed an arm around her shoulders to lead her out of the coffee shop and back into the cold air where they could sit at one of the metal tables under an awning. "That's a distance. Just…vacationing?"

"No not exactly…actually more like trying to figure out where I'm supposed to be in my life I guess." Y/N sat down in one chair while Jamie took the other across from her. The slight crease of his brow made it apparent that he was curious for more details but didn't want to press out of politeness.

"My um..my partner actually cheated on me with someone I thought was my friend so I ran away to try and figure out just who I am. Distract myself from the trouble I'll be in when I get back." the woman snorted lightly as she sipped at her coffee and traced the pattern of the metal bars that twisted into a flower by her cup.

"Ah, that's a bunch of bull. I'm sorry you had that happen love. That's never a good thing." there was slight sympathy in his gaze but he didn't want her to feel bad so he switched at something a little more light hearted. "We should take a selfie together and post it on whatever social media they're on to make 'em jealous."

The idea was…actually appealing. A little 'fuck you' moment to them that Y/N actually liked the sound of. Grinning mischievously she nodded. "If you don't mind at least?" she didn't want to make Jamie think she was trying to give a sob story or something just to get something out of him.

But the look he gave her was genuine as he grinned and beckoned her over to him. Grabbing her coffee along with her phone from her pocket she rose from her chair to walk the two steps it took over by his side. He pulled away from the table a bit so that she could bend down to his level to take a selfie with him.

"There we go!" she smiled at the photo realizing just how surreal it felt taking a selfie with a celebrity.

"Here, let's try another one! I'd love to put one on my social media as well!" Jamie said excitedly and Y/N had a sneaky suspicion that he just liked taking selfies but she obliged because frankly she couldn't deny the fact she enjoyed being that close to him as well as having something to remember this encounter by.

But this time instead of allowing her to bend down to be face to face his hands grabbed her hips gently and placed her on his thigh as he held his phone in front of them. Feeling the heat of a blush creep up her face Y/N held her cup up as if she was trying to hide it by taking a sip of her coffee just as Jamie took a picture. He pouted playfully at her; their faces were a little too close than strangers should have been considered okay but she wasn't complaining. His eyes looked so pretty up close like this.

"Come on now, we have to get a proper one for my twitter love! One more please?" those damned blue eyes would be the death of Y/N she just knew it.

She caved. Allowing him to lift his phone up one more time and this time he wouldn't let her go as his arm that was wrapped around her waist to keep her still lifted so that his arm crossed the front of her chest as if he was hugging her from behind. This position brought her flush against his chest as she was forced to lean back against him and his chin rested against her shoulder. The coldness of his cheek pressing against hers as he snapped the picture and if anyone dared ask; the red ringing her cheeks was from the cold Autumn air and not from the blush that was making a permanent residence on her face.

He didn't let her go immediately after as he opened his photos app to check out how the photo turned out and his lips curled into a satisfied smile. She couldn't help but think they looked like two lovers on a date posing for the camera in a selfie. That thought both worried her and made her stomach flutter with butterflies.

"Are you sure it's okay to post that on social media?" she uttered quietly as she took a sip of her coffee; realizing just in the briefest of seconds that she was still perched on his thigh.

"Of course, why wouldn't it be okay?" a frown crossed his features as he looked over at her. "Are you afraid fans will think we are dating and that the media will blow up the internet about the mystery girl Jamie Bower is dating?" a cheeky smile of amusement crossed his face and she couldn't help but smack his other leg she wasn't sitting on.

"It's not funny Jamie!" but she was laughing regardless. "People will recognize my face, people I know will blow up my socials asking what the hell is going on." she rolled her eyes. "And what am I supposed to tell them? I met rockstar actor Jamie Campbell Bower on a whim at a coffee shop while I run away from my problems?" he blinked at her rant

"Exactly. That's the truth isn't it?" he chuckled patting her leg; she took this as a sign to get off his lap but as she began to rise his hands yanked her back down with a frown. "Who said anything about moving?" he pouted. "You're warm."

Her face fell into her hands and as she groaned. "Jamie people are looking at us strangely." she whispered peeking at her surroundings through her fingers.

The warm laughter that echoed around the cold air definitely didn't help the curious looks and whispers as the blonde wrapped his arms around her briefly in a hug before dropping his arms allowing her to rise. He rose with her and grabbed his cup. "How about you give me your number so that we can send each other those photos?" he offered instead

She thought about it briefly. her teeth chewing at the inside of her cheek a moment before she nodded and handed over her phone as he did his and within moments the phones binged with text messages in forms of the selfies they took together. Feeling a little bit of a rush at the thought of having such a man's number she glanced up to see his gaze flicker up from his screen to meet hers and the small smile that tugged at his lips was genuine and soft in comparison to the teasing looks he'd had previously.

"Hey, so. I'd like to ask you a favor." he said suddenly as she fidgeted with her cup. "Doesn't have to be tomorrow or the next day if you don't want but…I'll be here in New York for a premier all week. So, before you scuttle off back home…text me maybe? At least so that I can say goodbye properly?" he asked playing with the rings on his hands.

Y/N studied him a moment and realized he was dead serious. A shy smile graced her features and she nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that. I mean and if I don't…remember or have time or whatever the case maybe….you got my number now so…" she bit her lip and swayed side to side. "Text me sometime. If you like I mean. No pressure. I am just a fan." she laughed looking down at her rainboots.

"You're not just a fan Y/N." Jamie reached out to tap her nose playfully. "You're my fan and I care about my fans." he said with genuine warmth.

She smiled at that and nodded before turning around. "Well, if anything. I might just text you first…I have to pay you back for that coffee remember?" she chuckled.

"Ugh, love how many times do I have to tell you?" his voice called after her with mock sternness. "There is no need to pay me back!"

Y/N was already walking down the sidewalk as she turned around to walk backwards as she waved. "Oh shut up, it'll give me an excuse to see you again!"

Jamie grinned after her but she was too far for a quip back. Instead, he watched until he couldn't see her in the crowd anymore, and then he looked back down at his phone just as his phone binged and a text message from an unknown number popped up with a coffee cup emoji signed with a smiley face and he shook his head in amusement as he tucked his phone back in his pocket and headed back down the sidewalk towards his waiting car. Oh yes, he'll be seeing her real soon.

#Jamie bower #jamie campbell bower #jamie campbell x reader #jcb #Jamie Bower x you #Jamie Bower x fem!reader

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bird-likes-to-fandom · 2 years

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rtc textiles headcanons because i was sweing a few minutes ago and now i have Thoughts

Penny and Constance crochet together all the time. There are crochet club meetings at the Blackwood Cafe on Thursday nights. The senior citizens who attend love them.

Ocean likes to knit! She once made the choir sweaters out of the softest yarn she had and they love them. Even Noel wears his all the time because it's the most comfortable thing he owns.

Penny prefers sewing and likes to make little doll clothes and plushies, a lot of the time she'll give them to Ezra for his puppets and things.

Constance's favorite medium is crochet (hence the crochet club) likes to do those little pattern books on how to make animals. She's also constantly working on a huge blanket.

Ocean knits sweaters for Ricky's cats, and Penny sews each of them an elaborate halloween costume each year. Ricky loves it and begs her to teach him how.

Penny always carries around a sewing kit in a little backpack, but since becoming friends with the choir she also keeps yarn, knitting needles, and crochet hooks in it for Ocean and Constance.

Ocean and Constance compete to see who can make the best beanie for Mischa. Mischa gets, like, ten different beanies out of it. Mischa's favorite is actually from Penny from like a year ago, but shhh don't tell them.

#rtc #ride the cyclone #rtc jane doe #jane doe rtc #penny lamb #ezra lamb #constance blackwood #ocean o'connell rosenberg #mischa bachinski #ricky potts #noel gruber #bird likes to write

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deerspherestudios · 4 months

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🔍QNA MASTERLIST (PT.2)🔎

This masterlist covers Mychael's anatomy and general lore.

For part 1, it's [HERE].

Regarding Mychael's anatomy...❔

Are his horns and tail fragile?

His scleras are black.

His skin texture is eerily smooth and thicker than a human's.

He smells like fresh cut grass with a hint of bonfire.

His lower eyes has tear ducts, and he can see in the dark.

His blood is blue. + neat facts about blue blood!

His tail isn't poisonous.

His tail has nerve endings and can bleed. It also grows back.

What happens when he's 'sick'.

His top and bottom eyes have 'blind spots'.

He's not fae, so he wouldn't get hurt from metal.

He doesn't have a belly button.

He was a kid, but he didn't start as a baby.

He can't have kids.

He doesn't have fangs. ::-)

His tail length.

His tail length, part 2 (TW: maths).

His horns and tail are a little squishy and can bruise.

His body shape can be whatever you like!

His mushroom horns and tail are flesh.

He wouldn't be affected by substances like humans.

Random Mychael lore❕

He has a different name in his own language, but goes by Mychael.

He doesn't have a last name.

When did he start knitting and why?

Where did the nickname 'firefly' come from?

What music would he like?

His favorite smells are old books, honey and gasoline.

He's super ticklish.

How did he carry MC to his home?

His favorite thing to knit are beanies.

He'd love bringing you outdoors.

He's a quiet sleeper.

He sleeps in a fetal position.

He'd love cheek kisses.

(Minor) loredump!

His knowledge on marriage.

He's overworked himself when fixing up the cabin.

Would he like stargazing?

You're not the first human he's found unconscious.

He'd be okay wearing a dress.

What's his wardrobe like?

He has a fear/phobia of snowstorms, thunder/lightning, trains/train whistles and water wells.

We can't get sick from him.

Does he have a religion/beliefs?

He would love the Shrek series.

The chickens' name origins (they're all flowers).

He's never considered humans as 'food'.

How did Mychael get his hens?

His favorite candies would be marshmallows and cotton candy.

If he had internet, he'd mostly look up arts-and-crafts and recipes. He'd also love DIY candy kits.

He prefers being warm.

He kinda celebrates New Years' and loves fireworks.

He doesn't need skincare but would enjoy face masks.

His first experience with bees.

He's never played UNO (but would love board and card games).

How does Mychael view the animals/people he meets in the forest?

He's ambidextrous.

His MBTI is INFJ-T.

But can I eat--❔

STILL NO.

#mushroom oasis vn #aaand here's part 2!#i never thought there would be this much content on mychael /gen #but it was fun looking back!#might go on a short hiatus on the blog after this is posted #just a heads up!

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dootdootwriting · 1 year

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hi sending off anon so u know I guess Help I feel so revealed ... anyway uhm yeah I'm not really shy id say just more introverted I love customer service being able to talk to some people quickly and maybe compliment them and make a part of their day good, I love crafting like crochet and knitting, more crochet; I love puzzles, all forms, mainly jigsaw since thats all I have time for most times but also those kanoodles where you fit x amount of pieces into a box yknow? math and science are my favorite Who could've guessed and I enjoy cooking. I think food is a beautiful language, and want to travel to try authentic foods. Man of many talents. I dont read as much as I want to but I write a lot and I love gaming, more action like God of war and resident evil and I dont play many multi-player other than stardew valley and animal crossing if you count that. Im not entirely sure what to put else other than I love cats. Anyway thank you for taking my money ♡

HI. i think you're a little insane for sending me money but tysm regardles <333 here's your matchup! enjoy

i match you up with cyno!

♡ cyno will play ALL the puzzles with you. i'm willing to bet money that the two of you have lighthearted puzzle competitions where you time yourselves doing a simple puzzle and see who finishes first. or alternatively, every year you bring out a puzzle and time yourselves completing it together and try to beat your record from the year before. ♡ as for the crafting/crocheting: if you so choose to make him anything, cyno will wear it. he has a little sweat band you made him on his wrist for when the desert gets particularly scorching. on top of that, he will wear absolutely anything you make him. he's shown up to meetings, intimidating as ever, with a little crocheted beanie on his head. ♡ cyno has is own kind of customer service voice; it's terrifying. he doesn't even mean for it to be, he just scares people. so as precaution, he brings you along to properly explain things to people in his stead. it makes for fun take-your-boyfriend-to-work-days

♡ for valentine's day, as soon as he gets home from work, he tells you to leave the room and not come back until he calls you. after he does call you back in, you're met with a giant heart-shaped gigsaw puzzle, all in pink, possibly the most difficult puzzle you've ever seen. in addition to that, cyno has clumsily set up streamers around the room (that are very close to falling off), set a few candles around, and bought some valentine's craft kits for the two of you to work on together. you spend the evening chatting about work and how your days have been - not unusual between the two of you, but made special because of cyno's display of love. he doesn't do too well on his craft kit, but he does do well on joking about it the entire time. you hang it on the wall in your bedroom.

#spooderkat #doot's matchup event #genshin x reader #cyno x reader

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vixies-grimoire · 1 year

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So awhile back I had this idea on the backburner of doing a camp camp timeskip (5 years in the future in a timeline where david & gwen adopt max, 5yl for short), originally I intended to create an askblog but as of right now I don't have the time or energy to maintain something like that, so instead I'm simply going to be sharing pieces of this story at my own pace. I started with Max because he's my favorite and I had the most ideas with which direction to pull his character - David & Gwen will come next. Realistically not every character from the show cast is involved in the mains' lives anymore so not everybody will get a design, but the main five all will.

VV Details abt 5yl max beneath the cut VV

So I see a lot of people give Max something of a goth/punk aesthetic with things like chokers and excess piercings, and while I can certainly see why that happens, I personally could never picture him going that route. I think it's possibly because he reminds me a lot of my brothers all of whom tend to have a more hipster or casual aesthetic (for a long time I gave Max a beanie and I still think he'd wear one).

Along with that though, Max just never struck me as the type to overly commit to an aesthetic - he'd care abt how he looks ofc but I definitely think he'd prioritize comfort over appearance. I also hc Max with some sensory issues so things like facial piercings or choker collars would probably be irritating to him (this is me projecting my own sensory issues lol. punks you're so cool but I could never.)

So I mostly kept his aesthetic the same and focused on adding more interest to the design - as this was intended to be an ask blog I added details people would want to ask about.

The glasses are another thing that came from one of my brothers - I've never seen anyone give Max glasses (in general unless they're a nerd people just don't think to add stuff like glasses I think), and now I really like them. He gets them when he's around 14 and I haven't yet decided what visual impairment he has. I'm thinking maybe farsighted?

The long hair was something I chose on a picrew on a whim and immediately loved. I came up with this cute story plot where Max has always wanted long hair, but could never properly get it to grow out because he was never taught how to take care of his hair. He also hated going to salons bc they didn't know how to treat his hair. Then Gwen starts giving him tips and offers to do his hair for him - an offer he's extremely apprehensive about bc his experience with people doing his hair has never been good, but she does really well. She explains that she was just taught by people in her family who knew how to deal with different hair types.

Admittedly too the long hair was a decision I stuck with bc I loathe the idea that transmascs can't have or want long hair (and yes, Max is transmasc in 5yl. David is too). At this point I've created so much hair lore I could write an essay on that alone.

As for the bear pin and the bear skull on his shirt, I wanted to give Max a hyperfixation of some kind, and I just went with bears (Ik lots of children have teddy bears and it doesn't mean they particularly love bears but it's what I had to work with lol). It's the one nature thing David managed to make him genuinely like. Funnily enough I followed a few bear-themed accounts so I could write someone w a bear hyperfixation accurately, and in doing so gave myself a bear hyperfixation for awhile.

Some other details abt 5yl Max are that he loves guns and has studied them and really wants to learn to shoot, he's properly taken up knitting and he once punched somebody for calling David an ableist slur <3

(there's a lot I've put into this but it's hard to find the words to explain when it doesn't come up naturally, so I'll share plenty more abt this au when I'm ready.)

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Drawn in MediBang Paint Pro

Camp Camp is a Rooster Teeth original series.

#Camp camp #Max cc #fanart #digital art #illustration #my art #artists on tumblr #cc5yl #Vixie Fox Witch #VFW

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marblesphere · 1 year

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Merry Christmas! 2022 Gojo Satoru x Reader

Merry early Christmas!!!! I am back!!!!! Together with Christmas fic!!!! A fluffy fic of course!!! The next chapter is on-going in my folder! No worries, I will finish that...hopefully before this year ends. My laptop's screen is acting up. it's shaking like crazy. I post this now because today's shaking is less crazy. Need to get this thing fixed soon.

Anyway, Happy reading! Enjoy!

“Let’s make one! Christmas party!!!!” Yoru exclaimed as she has her pointer finger up.

“Yoru, too loud.” Tori reprimanded.

“Let’s make one, Christmas party.” Yoru repeated.

“We heard you the first time.” Tori sighed. “Why so suddenly?”

“It’s not sudden.” Yoru puffed her cheeks. “I have been wanting to make one.”

“Christmas party…” I mumbled.

“Christmas party! Christmas cake! Christmas gift!!! Jou-chan, I want to participate too! Let’s make one.” Michizane made his sparkling eyes.

“Christmas…party…? What was that?” Tanuki-san titled his head.

“Huhuhu… Of course a Tanuki like you won’t know anything about Christmas party.” Michizane cackled.

“What was that, Fox face?”

“Let me tell you as your senpai. You see Christmas party is…”Michizane preached to him what Christmas party is about… and five minutes later…

“Ojou-chan, let’s do a Christmas party!!!” Another pair of sparkling eyes looked at me.

“[Name], you don’t want to? Or you have a painful memory of Christmas?” Yoru asked worriedly.

“I don’t think I have any. The usual Christmas is celebrating with Yae.” I answered.

“Where are your parents?”

“They work overseas all year long. I haven’t seen them since the start of my high school years. I do get presents though.”

“Let’s do it! Christmas party!” Reluctant Tori quickly declared.

“Weren’t you hesitating just now?” I sweatdropped.

“It’s fine! Let’s do it!!” Tori said.

“Ohhh!!!” Yoru pumped her fist up. Thus, those two went gung ho on planning this Christmas party.

So, here I am buying gifts for the upcoming Christmas party. The budget is 2000 yen. We are going to do the traditional gift exchange. The guests are obviously Fushiguro siblings and the people I know in jujutsu circle, including Mei-san and Utahime. Utahime-san obviously rejected because Satoru will be there. But Mei-san will come as long as her and her brother expenses are covered.

“This one is nice.” I murmured as I looked at the ash grey knitted muffler. This can be used by everyone. I quickly decide this will be my present for our gift exchange event. And then, I also bought small trinkets as my personal presents to them. For my girlfriends, I am buying a strap with their favorite charms and some make-up with the brand I use. For Mei-san, I think it’s better for some items that can be exchanged to cash, or maybe I should just give her cash, but it defeats the purpose of a gift, maybe a coupon or something. In the end I bought some spa supplies for her, Shoko and Utahime which I will ship to her later. I am not sure about Ui-Ui, so beanie and mittens. For Yaga-sensei, it’s even easier, knitting supplies.

For Tsumiki and Megumi, I bought them a new bag and stationeries plus some new clothes and coat. Their old coats are becoming thinner, I think this is a perfect time to change. If I just bought them, they will refuse. But since these are Christmas presents, they can’t refuse. Perfect.

For Nanamin… I think Nanamin really needs a day off, but I can’t give him that, maybe I should anonymously threaten his boss? But Nanamin will be targeted for sure, so that’s a no. So, coffee maker it is then. For some auxiliary managers that I knew, I bought them Christmas mugs. Now, as for the last boss…. Let’s just forget about him.

‘[Name]~~~~, you meanie! Where is my gift?’ A chibi him appeared in my head while whining. “Haaa…” I exhaled a small sigh. ‘What can I buy for someone who has everything that can be bought?’ My feet stopped in front of cookbooks aisle and I know what to get for that annoying stickman. It’s ticket to sweets buffet. Yep, with this all of the gifts are done. I just need to wrap them. I bought some gift papers and tape and off I go back to my apartment.

“Jou-chan, I want a gift too. It’s not fair that all of them got a gift, but I, your great grandpa didn’t get anything.” Michizane complained.

“Even I did get you something, it’s not like you can use it anyway.” I rolled my eyes.

“Ojou-chan, you have to do this gender equality.” Tanuki-san added, apparently, he is also a willing participant.

“This has nothing to do with gender equality. The problem is you are already dead. Besides, you didn’t even know what is Christmas 3 hours ago.”

“3 hours ago was 3 hours ago, right now is right now.” Tanuki-san pouted.

“Even if you pout, you still looks like tanuki, not cute or handsome at all.” I pointed out.

“Ojou-chan!” His jaw dropped, while Michizane is laughing and rolling on the air. “Shut up, Fox face! I doubt you can do it better.” He snarled at his forever rival.

“Of course I can do it better. Don’t forget I am the most handsome man back then.” Michizane gloated. “Jou-chan, I want a Christmas present too.” He made a pouty face and batted his eyelashes for a great measure.

“…” I shot him a blank deadpanned look with dead fish eye.

“Hahahaha!” This time it’s Tanuki-san’s turn to roll around while laughing.

“How can it be!” Michizane’s eyes blew wide in disbelief. I ignore them for the rest of my walk home. ~”~

“Sorry, [Name]!” Tori and Yoru clapped their hands as they apologized to me in unison.

“Ah? What’s wrong?” I blinked.

“About today’s party. I think it’s going to be cancelled. The café we booked made a mistake. Apparently, someone else has booked the room before us. We don’t have any more time to book and decorate another one. And Tori and I have some emergencies to attend today. Sorry!” Yoru explained.

“Is that so? That’s too bad. But, there’s no need to worry about this.” I smiled.

“We are really really sorry!” They apologized again.

“Don’t worry. It’s not like we can’t do it for another time. But, what about other guests?”

“About that. We have taken care of it. everyone has been notified, so they won’t come.” Tori smiled sheepishly.

“Okay, I understand.” I nodded.

“[Name]…”

“I am not angry.” I smiled. “There’s no need to worry.” I assured them. Since we cancel the Christmas party, I bought a small cake to celebrate it myself after school. “Ah, I forgot giving them their gifts.” I blinked. ‘I must have been more distraught than I thought.’ I exhaled a soft sigh that become a white puff of air. ‘I guess I do feel a little disappointed…. No no no. They have an emergency. It’s not like they intentionally cancel it anyway.’

I look at the gifts in the big paper bag that I have brought with me and then to my watch. It’s just a little past five. “Yosh!” I decided to give them their gifts today. So, I made a detour to their house one by one to give their gifts. I was greeted by their parents so I ask them to pass along the gifts to them. Then, I go to the hospital where Shoko worked. But apparently she took a day off today for personal reason. In the end, the only gifts I haven’t given are for the working adults. ‘Maybe I should go to jujutsu high now. I still can make it, and then…’

“Don’t worry, Jou-chan, the three of us are going to have best Christmas ever.” Michizane suddenly popped out to my face.

“Th-that’s right. We can make a Christmas party just by ourselves.” Tanuki-san added. The two of them are talking about how they are going to plan the Christmas party.

“Thank you.” I giggled. I know they are trying to cheer me up. It’s a little sad walking alone in the midst of happy people and atmosphere. ‘I wonder if in the future, I too…’ My mind suddenly conjuring a nice scenario where I am happily smiling while walking hand in hand with someone all by itself.

‘No can do, I can’t show a sad face in this kind of joyful occasion.’ I slapped my cheeks.

“Jou-chan?”

“No. Nothing. I will be fine.” I shook my head and smiled. ‘That was just a fantasy. A fantasy and dream that will be forever just a delusion.’

“Let’s go. Let’s drop this to Jujutsu High and off we go to home.” I said.

“You are going to Jujutsu High? What a coincidence, so do I.” A familiar voice chipped in suddenly. I froze at the familiar voice.

“Satoru?” I blinked.

“Yep. The one and only Gojo Satoru.” He grinned. “So, you are going to Jujutsu High?”

“Ah? Ah! Yes, that’s right. I have some gifts to be delivered there. Ah, since you are here. Here.” I handed out his gift right there.

“For me?” He tilted his head as he opened his palm so I could drop his gift there.

“That’s right. Merry Christmas, Satoru.”

“...Then, I will have to gift you something back.” He beamed.

“There’s no need. I didn’t gift it so I can get some gift back.” I shook my head.

“No can do. It’s a Christmas, of course I am going to give my favorite human a gift. I have prepared it.” He laughed as his palm made itself comfortable on my head. “Let’s go to Jujutsu High.” ~”~

A moment later, we arrived at Jujutsu High. Satoru leads me to one of the classrooms. “Incoming!” He yelled loudly as if he was telling the people inside.

“MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!” The loud sound of party poppers echoed as glittering rainbow colored confetti rained down.

“Everyone?”

“Merry Christmas, [Name]!!! Sorry we have to lie to you a little bit.” Yoru, Tori and Yae grinned, proud of their achievement.

“The emergency was a lie?”

“Yep. We just want to make a surprise party for you. We didn’t get to celebrate your birthday, so why not?” Tori giggled.

“Are you surprised?” Yoru exclaimed escitedly.

“I am just glad you didn’t have any bad emergency.” I sighed in relief.

“Hehehe, it’s Gojo-san’s idea.” Yae smirked.

“This is the gift?” I looked at him.

“Part of it? Do you like it?”

“Yes! Thank you very much!” I beamed.

“…”

“Oooohhhh!!!” (The rest of them are having a pleasantly surprised expression when their senior/co-worker are actually blushing a little which was not seen by [Name]. And they regret they didn’t get it on their phone.)

The Christmas party is on. We exchanged our gifts, giving my personal gifts to them and just eating and chatting away like this. ~”~

“So cold.” I stepped outside for a little fresh air. But splendidly forgot my muffler.

“Ojou-chan, how can you forget your muffler? You will catch a cold.” Michizane frowned. I left Tanuki-san inside the classroom as he wanted to savor the Christmas atmosphere.

“Sorry, it slipped out from my mind.”

“Let’s get your muffler first.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you stepping outside without your muffler? You will catch a cold.” Someone sighed as they also stepped outside.

“Satoru?”

“Your muffler.” He frowned. With a few strides, (curse his long legs) Satoru stopped in front of me and wrapped my muffler around my neck.

“Sorry.”

“It’s done.” He smirked proudly at his handiwork. And I just realized, he got my muffler gift. Somehow, when he is wearing it, it’s a little too perfect.

‘Tsk, how envious.’

“I got your gift.” His lips curved into another annoying smirk.

“I bet you use six eyes to see the residue of cursed energy.” I rolled my eyes.

“How could it be! This is just purely coincidence!” He gasped in an overdramatic tone. (He actually secretly aiming for her gift, and yes, he used six eyes. If he didn’t use it then, when he should be using them?)

“Whatever!” I rolled my eyes, not believing his claim. But secretly feel elated. After all, he is…

“I still have another gift for you.” He quipped, snapping me back to reality.

“Another gift?”

“Yep.” He nodded. “Here.” He dropped something to my hand.

“Omamori?” I blinked at the blue omamori on my palm.

“It’s Gojo Satoru’s special one and only omamori.” He giggled as he launched into a rant how he made it. “By the way, you are absolutely forbidden to peek the charm inside.”

“Why?”

“It will lose its protection.”

“Eh? What a useless omamori.”

“That’s why you can’t peek inside.”

“But I want to know.” I tried to feel the charm inside. It’s hard, maybe a little round?

“You will know it in due time. But right now, you are forbidden to see what’s inside.”

“Fine fine.” I gave up. It’s must be real since he is so serious and persistent like this.

“Let’s go back. Or Nanamin will eat all the cakes.”

“Nanamin is not you.” I rolled my eyes playfully, but can’t hold the giddy smile that was hanging on my lips. “Satoru.”

“Hm?” Satoru turned to me.

“Thank you for your Christmas present. I will treasure it.” I showed him the omamori he gave me moments ago.

Satoru gives me a soft smile (and affectionate stare), “Let’s go inside. It’s freezing here.”

“Okay!” I grinned before I got another idea. I quickly round up a snowball and throw it to his back, and it wonderfully hits his back.

Satoru turns to me with wide eyes and then quickly turned into the usual mischievous glint. “Now, you have done it.” He also rounded some snowballs and threw it to me. I shriek as I escape from his assault, rounding my own ammos to fight him. ~”~

“How long they are going to play this flirting stage?” Shoko propped her cheek on her hand as they looked two kids playing snowball fight.

“As long as Gojo-san didn’t get me involved in his weird conference.” Nanamin pushed up his sunglasses.

“That’s the fun part.” Shoko smiled. “it’s nice to see him acting like his age, emotionally.”

“Fufufu, it was an easy cash too. I will have to join his conference every time.”

“As expected from Nee-sama.”

“Huhuhu, we have our own bet to see how long they will realize their own feelings.” Yoru laughed.

“I bet [Name]-san will realize it first, but went into a denial stage after the denial stage she will accept it and then hide it from that trashy adult.” Megumi said it all with a deadpan voice.

“I also think [Name]-san will realize it first. Though, I am not sure about the detail.” Tsumiki sweatdropped at her younger brother prediction.

“It’s possible.” Yae nodded. “I mean, this is [Name] we are talking about. Anything is possible.”

“We’ll just have to wait and see.” Yaga sighed as he looked at his former student and his former student’s sort of student.

#FTaJSDM #soft gojo #protective gojo #gojo satorux reader #gojo fluff #fluffy gojo satoru #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk fluff #merry christmas 2022

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