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levitiquee · 6 months

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“Daaa-ddy.”

Levi startles, looking up. The little girl stood before him, all wide eyes and beaming at him.

“Yes? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

She shrugs, then thrusts out a hair brush and a set of scrunchies. “Do my hair today!” She grins.

Levi is taken aback slightly, not at all expecting such a request. It’s not that he had a bad relationship with his daughter really, if anything Levi spends every second that he can spare with her. But even so, it was so sudden and specific, not to mention she has never asked him to do it before. It was you who helped her get ready.

“Doesn’t mommy usually do that?” He asks slowly. “Is she busy?”

She shakes her head quickly. “I just want you to do it today.” She smiles, holding the brush out to him, waiting for him to take it.

Levi glances at it then looks back up. How could he say no to that?

So, without a word, he motions her to turn around which she follows happily, pulling a stool nearby to sit between Levi’s legs. Levi takes the brush, though slightly hard to hold without his missing fingers, he manages, combing through the black silky strands.

Like his.

Though, his own hair was stranded with gray now, a sign of the long years he had lived. Even Ackermans don’t stay young forever.

But it’s still so strange to him, having her here, right in front of him. He still freezes a little when she smiles at him, watching her with awe. She looked almost exactly identical to him, starting from the shape of her face to the color of her eyes, just the exact shade of the silvery blue that his own eyes hold. But there was a brightness in those eyes that Levi doesn't think he ever had. She was like this little ball of sunshine, always so bright.

And her smile, that came from you.

She was his. Yours. Theirs.

A part of him and a part of you. A whole other human being. A child. A blessing.

It was the hardest at thr beginning. For him to get used to it. Despite the 9 months of pregnancy, it was when he first held her that the realization finally hit him. That she was his daughter. His.

And the moment his eyes locked with the newborn, he knew he was doomed.

That there was nothing he wouldn’t do for this small, small, absolutely tiny person that came to earth no more than half an hour ago. That he had just met.

It was crazy how it only took him only a moment for him to swear his life for her, to become so protective. It was actually ridiculous, how he felt anxious even when it was the nurses holding her, he’d been so rigid, so poised. Even when handing her over to someone else’s arms, he had his hand outstretched because just in case. It took a shit load of convincing from you for him to let Jean and Connie hold her.

It was crazier watching her grow up. Never had he felt this ridiculous amount of pure joy and excitement ever. Only to hear her first words, to watch her take her first steps, holding his hand. He swears it was only yesterday.

His chain of thought was cut off as she started to happily chatter about things. Unlike Levi, she talks. A lot. Levi doesn’t mind, he listens quietly. Every once in a while, inserting a comment.

“I’ve read about you. In the history books. Our teacher taught us.”

“Yeah?” He mumbles, brushing softly. “What’d you learn?”

“They called you humanity’s strongest.” She stumbles on the word a little, which was a bit heavy for her usual vocabulary. She turns around to look at him with awe and wonder, wide eyes asking for confirmation. “That’s so cool!”

He only lets out a small hum in response.

"Will I be as strong as you one day?"

"Sure. You already are." He hopes she never needs to be.

“I saw your picture too. And mommy’s. Also, Uncle Connie used to be bald back then.” She finishes with a giggle, the idea of Connie’s lack of hair amusing her. “You were like a superhero, weren’t you daddy?”

“I wouldn’t shoot that far.” He answers with a small smile.

Back then, Levi had never imagined the idea of having a family. There, caged between the walls, surrounded by those tremendous monsters. When there was no guarantee that you’d come back alive once you’re out there. How could he even think of bringing a child to the world, if he couldn’t even do the least that is to promise their safety?

But now, here she runs and plays outside, without a worry in the world, tirelessly. She doesn’t have to starve like Levi had to, she grows up with only all the good the world has to offer. She doesn’t know the worst of how things could be and Levi hopes she never does. She doesn’t yet understand the role Levi and you had played in creating this world, but she does understand the value of it. She asks questions sometimes, about the wheelchair and the eye and the hand. About your scars and why somedays you can't get yourself from bed. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know how to answer. And Levi knows, one day, he’ll have to tell her all of it, life back then and the life he had. But for now, he prays, let her grow up with only love and pureness. Let her see the world in her rose colored glasses. Something he never got to do.

She taps Levi’s leg as he bunches the hair to tie a ponytail. “Do braids.” She says.

“Braids? Don’t you always wear a ponytail?” Levi asks.

“Yes, but,” She tries to explain, stumbling for words. “Tash always pulls by it.”

Tash was one of her classmates, Levi knew from her frustrated rants about him. From what he could gather, neither liked each other much. “Next time he bothers you, you do the thing that I taught you.” He tells her.

“The thing with my hands?” She asked brightly, balling her hands to show him.

“Hey, no beating up kids at school. Levi!” You appear in the doorway, only catching the last bit of the conversation. “Don’t give her ideas. And you,” You look at your daughter who was smiling smugly. “I’ve been looking for you–wait, is Levi doing your hair?” You say, finally noticing and very surprised.

‘Yes!” She replies excitedly, “He’s doing braids! He’s very slow though.”

Levi playfully pats her head. “It’s because you keep moving.” He sighs. “Must you need braids? I’m not sure if I can–”

“Yes.”

Levi was about to say something else until she turned around, giving him the most adorable pout ever, eyes all round and needy, her brows pinched together. “Please?” She asks sweetly.

Well damn.

Levi tries, he really tries. But the word no somehow managed to disappear from his vocabulary, along with all of its synonyms. So he sighs, nodding.

“Levi, I can–” You start.

“It’s okay.” He puts up a hand, stopping you. He doesn’t know much about the process, but he’s spent enough time watching you do her hair. So he thinks he can manage it. “I can do it. Probably.” He says uncertainty.

It was slightly difficult to manage multiple sections of hair when you’re missing two fingers, but even surprising himself, he does manage it, after a few attempts. A little uneven, but works.

"Happy?" He asks her, patting her head.

It was good enough for the girl, who jumped up right after it was finished and cheered happily as an answer to Levi. She jumps to his arms, pulling him by the neck to plant a big smooch in his cheek.

“You're the best.” She beams at him, then running off to grab her bag which was by the door.

“Wow, mommy’s nonexistent now?” You fold your arms in mock offense.

She doesn’t answer, only picks up her bag and runs to hug you full speed, wrapping herself around your knees. “I love you.” She calls out, then turns to Levi. “And I love you too! I'm leaving now!”

Then she was out the door before you could say I love you back.

“Don’t run, you’ll fall.” Levi calls out to her, who was already far out of hearing range.

You closed the door. Then leaned against it, staring at Levi.

Levi looked away, cheeks heating up slightly, noticing the strange way you were staring at him, already knowing what comes after.

“So.” You said.

“So, what?” He said, glancing at you.

“Where'd you learn how to do braids?"

He huffs. "From you. I watched you do it.''

"Really?' It was so cute you could melt.

“Stop looking at me like that.” He grunts. “She’s my girl. I can do her hair sometimes, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“So, I’m not your girl?” You pout, exactly the same expression your daughter made just moments ago. “How come I don't I get braids?”

“I–” Levi starts, then huffing frustratedly. He can’t even say no to his daughter, who was he to say no to the mother? He tries nevertheless.

“I’m not doing it. Stop looking at me like that.”

You did not look away, pouting out your lips more.

“I won’t.”

You blinked, turning your expression sadder.

Levi gives up.

“C’mere.” He sighs.

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artethyst · 24 days

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~ Shadows Bathed In Moonlight ~

Azriel x Youngest Archeron Sister!Reader x OC

Little Ezekiel was not like his cousins.

Nyx, older only by two years, was cheerful and outgoing, curious like his mother and with an unbridled fearlessness just like his father.

Baby Thena, the youngest of the three, who had only just began to walk- toddle, already had the will of both her mother and father.

Cassian’s mischievous grin with Nesta’s piercing gaze.

Ezekiel, however, was just like Azriel.

He was very shy, in fact, he preferred to hide behind his mother’s legs and cling onto the shimmering skirts that pooled over them than chase after his cousins.

Rest his curly mop of raven hair against his father’s neck who was more than happy to scoop him up and carry him around, protective over the innocent child who had yet to be tainted by Prythian’s cruelties.

It was no secret Azriel preferred it that way, Rhysand and Cassian often teasing his parental axiety and overbearing behaviour, reminding him his son was an Illyrian after all.

Just as Illyrian as he had once been- delicate wings folded against his little back but with unblemished hands and love in his heart.

Azriel would keep it that way.

His Mate knew it was because of the innate fear of the Mother snatching his happiness away- as though he had never deserved it.

Ezekiel was a little miracle.

Not only were Fae children rare, the dangerous birth had put his mother in a coma, and him confined to the Healer’s for the first month of his wavering life.

It was the worst time of Azriel’s centuries long existence.

If he had been protective before, he was a hundred times worse now

When the other children played, Ezekiel was happy to curl up in another adult’s lap, to which many of them had no qualms, as Ezekiel was just the “cutest” according to Mor- a tiny version of his father that the Inner Circle could squeeze and smother with kisses.

Feyre often scolded Nyx for dragging the poor boy around, but Ezekiel held no grudges, a small blush on his face as his cousin tugged him along ranting on about whatever a child of his age had to rant about.

But now it was time for him to leave the nest.

The one his parents has so throughly wound.

“Ezekiel,” his mother bent down to his eye level, twinkling hazel eyes wide and scared. “Mama will be back soon okay?”

The little boy’s lip wobbled and tiny fists came to rub at his eyes which quickly filled with tears. His silent sobs broke her heart, Madja had always said he was an easy baby, like his father.

And even now- when he cried, he tried to hide it.

It worried her- that he would never throw a tantrum or openly seek comfort- but hide it as though he was ashamed to feel.

He choked back little cries as his mother had to force away her own.

She hated to think her little boy felt the need to internalise his feelings- especially from her.

Azriel had assured her it was okay- that he had been that way too, even when his own mother had shown him nothing but love.

“You’ll have lots of fun my Little Shadow,” she pressed a deep kiss to his wet cheek, gently brushing away his tears, trying not only to convince him but herself. “Nyx will be with you-“

“Yepppp! Come on ‘Zekiellllll!” His cousin’s voice sang in anticipation, not understanding why the boy was so reluctant to play with toys and read funny picture books all day.

Ezekiel continued to cry and so his mother picked him up, cradling him against her chest as he sobbed without restraint.

Unusual for such a well-behaved child such as he.

“D-Don’t leave me mama!” He wept. “I-I pwomise I’ll be good p-pwease don’t give me away!”

Her heart broke as he trembled and her free hand came to stroke at his curls, the way she had done to comfort her own husband many a time.

“I would never give you away my darling, and you have not been bad,” she smoothed his raven locks, “you are a big boy now, just like Nyx. You are old enough go and play with all other children-“

“I not a big boy I-I still a baby!” He cried and that was when his father appeared, face just as torn as his mother’s.

The boy did not giggle as he usually did when his father’s shadows came to tickle against his cheek, his cries coming out in small hiccups as she looked to Azriel in pure misery.

He wordlessly plucked the child from her arms, his own chest tightening at the sound of his only child’s pained cries- crying under the belief he was being abandoned.

Azriel had vowed his child would never feel the way he had, unloved and nothing but a burden the Mother was so cruel to burden the equally dismal world with.

His Mate had changed that outlook.

And now his greatest treasure- a part of them both, homage to their fiery passion and proof the Shadowsinger was indeed capable of love.

Ezekiel continued to cry as Azriel’s shadows were equally as unsettled, trying their best to cheer up the little boy who quivered so violently, he might have fallen from his father’s arms had the older male’s grip been so secure.

He would rather suffer burns across his while flesh- take Truthteller to his heart than have his son feel unwanted.

“You know that your mother and I love you- more than anything. More than the sky above.”

Ezekiel sniffed, his little head nodding pathetically as best it could smushed into Azriel’s chest.

“You are our little star Ezekiel. You are the most precious thing to us- in all of Prythian. We would never let anything or anyone harm you, you never have to be afraid of the world as long as I am here.”

Feyre stood in the distance- letting her brother-in-law share the moment with his son, knowing just how heartbroken Rhys was at the same situation.

The difference was, Nyx hardly gave him a second glance- sprinting into the unfamiliar building with a new sense of reverence and promise of adventure.

“D-Daddy stay?” The boy became hopeful as Azriel shook his head, running a hand lovingly through his son’s inherited locks- a sense of pride and indescribable love overwhelming him at the sight.

Before he could come up with some semblance of comfort, Feyre saved the day. Pressing a wet kiss to her nephew’s cheek with an infectious smile on her warm face.

It wasn’t that she thought her own sister incapable, she just knew the poor woman was just as worried as Azriel.

Their forced smiles and glossy eyes hardly convincible even to a child.

“Hmmm, a little shadow told me that Uncle Cass has a surprise back home waiting for his best Spy…”

The boy paused, his little face red and besmirched with tears but an undeniable curiosity to his eye.

“Spies don’t cry Zekie!” Nyx chimed in as his mother sent him a gentle look of reprimand. “Come onnnnn, the faster we get home, the faster we get the suprise!”

“You like painting, don’t you Ezekiel?” Feyre continued, distracting the boy enough for him to perk up in curiosity, loosening his little balled fisted grip on his father’s leathers. “Would you like me to show you the art room?”

Azriel- albeit reluctantly, lowered his son to the ground, gently encouraging him towards Feyre who happily received his little hand in hers.

The Shadowsinger took his Mate into his arms as replacement, the loss of his son weighing heavy even on his own marred heart.

The boy had never once been out of their sight for so long.

And as Feyre guided him into the Nursery, her sister mouthing a watery ‘thank you’ as a tear cascaded down her cheek, Azriel couldn’t help but let one of his own slip as Ezekiel passed through the doors and out of his sight.

Hesitant in his little steps, but with his cousin there to help him along.

Just as Rhysand had done for his father.

#fanfic #acotar #acotar fic #acotar x oc #acotar x reader #azriel x archeron sister #azriel x original character #azriel x oc #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #dad!azriel

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spockandawe · 1 year

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Here we go! I have some smaller books to share as well, but I've been absolutely VIBRATING with excitement to share a BIG one, and I'm going to indulge myself and post that today, then figure out words for the rest. Because I bound a new cnovel. Check it out, guys, I bound jwqs/clear and muddy loss of love :D

Let me indulge myself and backtrack a little! First, these are quarto books, so they're short. But I think these average a little under 500 pages each, and jwqs is a LONG book (my beloved), and this adds up to a total eleven inches of lesbians. More like twelve once they're in their cases. It's over a million characters in Chinese and I think the English translation comes in somewhere around 890k, it's HUGE

Making these books was SO FUN, I hadn't read jwqs and still haven't, and will probably read on my phone when I do. I don't have any exciting photos of the typesetting, but I knew this was an imperial succession story, and that made me nervous, those stories don't always click for me. Well, the process of typesetting and adding footnotes for this beast definitely confirmed that I'm going to have a good time with this thing when I have the time to read it, but there was also so much going on that only the vaguest of spoilers sank in. I went into an absolute FRENZY of typesetting, and after I printed, cut and folded it, well. That was one afternoon of sewing. You're looking at the reason I'm scrambling to make up a few hours of missed work, hahaha

After that, I needed cases. At the very beginning of march, I received a shipment of some FASCINATING bookcloth. It's called Duo, and it's made by layering a thin gauzy fabric of one color over paper of a different color. Depending on the combos, you get a really cool range of color-shifting effects. And they've gone out of production! But I was part of a group order to get some of the goods, and hadn't yet finished a new project. Reader, I went for it.

That purple and green is bananas!!!! It's so hard to photograph, this midnight picture of a few cases is one of my most successful attempts to capture the full range up close. Originally I'd been thinking of trying to evoke imperial gold, but I figured this was still the kind of drama and luxury suited the book, and also something something the hidden colors suited Qi Yan's character. I tied it back a little to the imperial gold with the endpapers, then titled them in silver foil, since the endpapers had silver in them.

But once the books were made, I felt like it wanted something... more. Something like a BOX!

And me, I chase novelty. A set this large would be tricky for anything clamshell, but a slipcase for all seven would leave books tipping all over if it was wide open, but putting walls between slots would be demanding in terms of precision and would risk similarly-sized books getting stuck in the wrong slots. Then I remembered learning about slipcases where you could put in a little insert to support the weight of the text block, and the concept SNAPPED into place.

Colors aren't going to photograph well at midnight, but I made the supports using the scraps and off-cuts from my endpapers, to tie it back into the bindings. The back of the case is lined in more of the duo, and the walls are lined with a faux leather bookcloth I like a lot, it feels buttery smooth and seemed like a good neutral material to tie the papers and bookcloth together. I listened to some of the DEEPEST layers from the nine-hour conspiracy theory iceberg video while I was working on this, haha, it was a TRIP.

And in the end, each of the supports is sized to comfortably sit in the smallest of the volumes, and evenly spaced, so I believe it will take the books in any order with no problems. It's easy to grab the books without having to cut notches into the walls to grab them from. And even though weight is less of an issue for quarto sizing, the books in here have their weight supported no matter what angle the box is at! I'm so, so pleased with how this concept worked out and definitely plan to do more with it in the future.

So there we are! Jing Wei Qing Shang! I had such a fabulous time with this project, and I'm so excited to get to share it with all of you. The story was fun to work with, the bindings and box were fun to make, and everything here came together just as well as I could possibly have hoped. I'm so proud of this, and incredibly, incredibly excited to show it to you!

#crafts #bookbinding #box making #oh boy what is this story tagged #jwqs #jing wei qing shang #clear and muddy loss of love #I'll pick one to stick with later 😂#long post/#so proud of this one!

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okanra · 2 months

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FEW FUN BEHIND-THE-SCENES STUFF I DID FOR “THE UNSPOKEN” WEBCOMIC SERIES (still ongoing, of course)

So I’m migrating some of the (public version of) pre-production stuff I did in 2021-2023 for THE UNSPOKEN webcomic (back when it still had the old name “Trunks and Goten in High School AU”) here, since X/Twitter apparently annihilated the old Moment feature for real. These are mostly research stuff, some warm up doodles and inspiring sountrack playlists I did before a chapter or a story got made. I usually do a lot of research offline before working on any creative project, that’s why sometimes it feels like there’s so many information gets jammed into one chapter: it was mostly to make do for all the time that I didn’t get to, or wouldn’t be able to work on the comics.

Will add in the chapters along side the information paper for clearer understanding ✌️

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1. The warm-up expression practice sheet (or doodles, in my case) of Son Goten and Trunks in my webcomic series (late 2022 or early 2023):

Since the idea in mind for these two in the webcomic was to be more “mature, human-like” than the original manga version to fit with the narrative I want to tell and aim at the older demographic, practices are needed :p

2. The Martial Arts techniques research information papers - Chapter 2 and 3 aka “The Spar” 1 & “The Spar” 2 (2021-2022):

A. Goten’s techniques:

B. Trunks’s techniques:

This research about martial arts techniques was actually very fun to do due to martial arts and cultural aspects are being two of the things I enjoy the most in life. That’s probably parts of the reasons why I went back to Dragon Ball in 2020: motorbikes, martial arts and mixed races culture.

Back then I did plan on sharing my research to everyone in the form of little fun art lessons, so there were interesting tweets like this or this. Later I decided to share this somewhere else more private (like my Patreon community) since I realized pre-production researches (or something akin to visual developments) are not that well-liked for most online viewers even though it’s a very much needed process in a creative project 🤔

This martial art concept is one of the actual main themes throughout the whole webcomic series, not really the (super duper gay) b-romance relationship between Son Goten and Trunks, yes I’m very sorryyyyyyy I like them too but I like worldbuilding more lmaoooo :p

3. The brief character design sheet and Chinese-influenced culture research information papers - Chapter 4: “The Iron Woman” and Chapter 5: “Her Resolution, His Origin” (mid-2022 until now and will be continued):

A. Character Design brief sheet:

B. Culture research stuff:

The hilarious thing about researching for these chapters are: Back when “The Iron Woman” was being made, the research limited at reading articles and some books about Chinese cultures, and watching documentaries on Youtube. But when “Her Resolution, His Origin” was being made, the research tuned into a real life trip to China, to take real life reference photos and listening to real legends and stories.

This research for “Her Resolution, His Origin” will be posted to Patreon later, of course ✌️

4. The Original Comic introduction and comeback announcements in mid-2022:

I must have eaten some edibles while drawing this because the boys look so good here. Goten looks so good, I even made him the profile picture for my Patreon account lmao.

5. Soundtrack playlists for inspirations (2021 - now): always the cherry on top. I listen to these playlists everytime I work on the series.

A. Duo playlist for chapters featuring both main characters: link

B. Character playlist for chapters focusing on single character, or anything related to that character: link

———————————————

All in all, posts like this are for people who like to see what’s beneath the surface when working on a creative project. I completely guarantee you, what you’ve seen on this blog are just the tips of the ice berg 🤫

Def not a PR, but my Patreon has lots of this lmao. Half joking half serious, there’s even a “non-posted” comic up there too and many other things. I’m just stating facts.

That aside, I’m just really happy to be able to work on this webcomic. THE UNSPOKEN webcomic series has always been a long-term indie project, not a daily content so I hope the readers who like and follow this series would stay tuned for more ✌️

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For easier reading, you can either follow the links that are included above, or just read this Tapas updated version.

#the unspoken webcomic #truten in high school au #my art #my comic #dragon ball #goten #son goten #trunks #kid trunks #dbz #dragon ball z #chichi #son gohan #martial arts #researching is fun and is also my hobby #but honestly i’m just happy drawing comics

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geemyfirstluvstory · 6 months

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hey boy, listen…

“my first love story…my angel…and my girls…my sunshine. hey, hey, lets go!”

fem reader. matching halloween costumes with bllk characters. bllk x reader. fluff. characters (separate): michael kaiser, oliver aiku, bachira meguru, hiori yo, chigiri hyoma, kunigami rensuke, itoshi sae+rin, isagi yoichi, shidou ryuusei, nagi seishiro, mikage reo

michael kaiser - joker x harley quinn

• this man is certified bonkers so of course he’s the joker and as his loyal worshipper you’re harley quinn

• perhaps a prophecy of the status of your relationship perhaps you just look stylish (ITS THE SECOND ONE PLEASE PICK THE SECOND ONE)

• such a softie for you but would never admit it, you chose the costume and he made sure to get the finest ones money could buy though the pictures you took…he’d rather not see himself dressed as a clown criminal mastermind.

oliver aiku - nick & judy (zootopia)

• this was his idea, y’know damn well this man is a party animal so you just have to trust he’s not cheating

• so he decides to make you feel better, he’ll bring you along and do matching costumes. • i just know this man likes putting on animal ears and kids movies thats why y’all are nick and judy

bachira meguru - thing 1 & 2

• remember how he got called a weirdo as a kid? he’s definitely a weirdo. eats toothpaste, drinks milk from the carton, milk before cereal. a total goof ball

• he loves children’s books and even as at his big age of 17 he still makes you read them to him and pretends he’s a kid going to bed (IN A WHOLESOME WAY)

• so when the halloween party came up he wanted to go as his favourite book characters, thing 1 & 2. and of course you agreed

hiori yo - kuromi and my melody

• of course he’s my melody and you’re kuromi. this was his idea so he gets first dibs

• being the gamer he is he enjoys playing with you, you two are always the cringe couple in the lobby with matching usernames and avatars and he does all the carrying but he also enjoys playing those silly little retro girls games like ‘hamham heartbreak’ and the old cardcaptor sakura games.

• in conclusion he’s a total nerd thats a total sucker for the female gaze

chigiri hyoma - team rocket

• this man is a total princess and every year you guys dress as a cartoon couple only to do the same costume the next year but switch the roles so one year he might be james and the next jesse

• this year he’s james, he even did a temporary dye on his hair for accuracy but of course no cutting.

• he loves doing hair with you and for this year’s costume you were the one washing and dyeing his hair

kunigami rensuke - raven and beast boy

• you like cartoons, he likes superheroes, you both need a cute matching costume, easy compromise. you both came up with this together while brainstorming

• this man is a lovesick loser so beast boy was very easy to pull off and the most perfect costume for the two of you. the only real inaccuracy is that he’s pretty big

• homemade costumes for the win, of course you’ll buy bits and pieces but overall a homely look because rensuke will do anything to bond with you

itoshi sae - light and misa

• sae canonically likes chibi maruko san, who’s to say he isn’t a big weeb? in fact this was his idea. he’s really convincing when it comes to halloween

• he’s a lot like light, cold, calculating, smart so it suited him and besides since light dresses similarly it only fit and since you’re so hopelessly in love with him, it was destiny

• sae isn’t the type to work with his hands but he also didn’t like the quality of pre made costumes. living in europe gave him refined taste so you two went on a designer shopping spree for individual pieces to make your costumes.

itoshi rin - coraline’s parents

• you’re probably a total wuss, even if you’re not, rin still can consume more horror, gore, and other gross things than anyone. accumulating in him wanting to do a matching costume with you only if it was some horror character.

• you agreed and settled on coraline since it’d be fun and easy, to match you dressed as coraline’s parents, specifically the other parents with the button eyes

• your favourite part was doing his hair and makeup, rin is like a cat taking a bath you really had to pin him to his office chair or on the bed to do his makeup properly, and yeah theres plenty of kisses

isagi yoichi - alice and the cheshire cat

• he’s so bland, (im kidding pls dont come for me) but he loves you so, so he’ll sacrifice the main character spot for you just this once. you’re alice and he’s the cat, of course this was completely your idea

• yoichi doesn’t care too much for this kind of thing, he originally intended to spend halloween cuddling and watching movies with you, perhaps invite some friends over or have some fun without them if you know what i mean….

• but he enjoyed being your cute kitty for a night, you dragged him out and about to take pictures and being blue lock’s hero there was no short of attention

shidou ryusei - cleo denile and deuce

• ryusei is very eccentric, kind of weird, in a hot way not in a cute way like meguru. and as you made him watch boo york with you he took one look at cleo and was like “yeah” so in away it was your idea but not really

• you’re his princess and he’s the douche looking boyfriend, i’m not sure about you but it most definitely suits him.

• as you guys went out and about this halloween you know he’s already thinking about next year, perhaps raven queen and derick charming. maybe barbie and ken?

nagi seishiro - veggie tales

• let me tell you i’ve actually done this costume irl, seishiro is a lazy fellow he doesn’t like putting in much effort but he’s a cutie patootie and he does adore his pookie

• matching costumes was your idea, to dress as the cucumbers from veggie tales however was his idea as all he had to do was buy the costumes and look cute

• fan reactions and his friends; they found it so stupid it was hilarious, compared to all the other celebrity couples costumes you two chose….children’s cartoons.

mikage reo - the adam’s parents

• he’s rich so it’s gotta be classy, you two were going to some gala held by his family company, the mikage corporation, cute and classy lets go

• reo really isn’t one for movies so this was your idea, he’s a total simp for you, absolutely floored all the time with no exception. kissing you up and grovelling at your feet like his morticia adams

• in the end your costume really did suit the occasion made for the best pictures. you guys are now pinterest king and queen every halloween

___

School’s been kicking my ass so i had to do this quickly, anyway what are you guys dressing up as this year?

#michael kaiser x reader #oliver aiku x reader #bachira meguru x reader #hiori x reader #chigiri hyoma x reader #kunigami rensuke x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi rin #isagi yoichi #shidou ryuusei #nagi seishiro #mikage reo

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ingravinoveritas · 9 days

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Hello, lovely followers. I was traveling for work again in the second half of this past week, but I'm now home and looking forward to answering all of your Asks that I've been seeing in my inbox. I first wanted to reflect a little bit, however, because this trip was also a personal one for me.

This week's travels took me to Anaheim, California, which is where Disneyland is (I think I actually must've not been far from where David and Georgia just were, funnily enough, as my hotel was right by the park). It wasn't my first trip to Anaheim, though. The last time I was there was when I was 11 years old, on summer vacation with my dad in California while my mom was on a tour in Italy at the same time. As you'd expect, my dad wanted to take me to Disneyland...but I was too scared and overwhelmed, and we only ever got as far as the parking lot. The gates were visible, and I remember how they loomed, that feeling of something foreboding washing over me...but rather than excitement, my tiny body was filled with dread. I mentioned this while in conversation with one of the hotel employees during my stay, and he said, "What kind of kid doesn't want to go to Disney?"

What kind of a kid. Well, an autistic kid. A kid who was constantly anxious, emotional, and terrified of sensory overload. A kid who hated crowds and noise and rides. A kid who didn't travel well to begin with, because she was afraid of new places, anything unfamiliar, anything that wasn't safe and home.

A kid who was me.

Even before this, there were so many ways that the world had said "This is not for you." But still, there was something different about it happening there, in the bright California sunshine. My favorite Disney princess as a kid was always Belle, because she also loved to read and didn't fit in with the people around her. Belle connected more with books and animals than people, and that made me connect with her. But Belle was also beautiful (as Disney princesses tend to be), and thanks to the bullying from my peers, I was very aware that was something I was not. So no matter how much I wanted to be Belle, there was no way I could ever be a Disney princess.

This is not for you.

Thinking about all of this during my trip made me feel so many things, but I was most surprised to find myself feeling a sense of nostalgia in particular, a longing for the child I was, who I wish I could comfort. It also made me feel such sadness for that child and anyone else who finds themselves in a situation or a place where the world thinks they should be happy, but they're not. And there are few things more difficult than feeling that way in (of all places) "the happiest place on Earth."

I didn't end up going to Disney on this trip, even though I had a little bit of time to do so. It's still not for me, but the difference now is that I am okay with that. That need to be the kid who wants to visit Disney--the "good" child, the child who isn't "broken"--has gone away, and I'm more than happy being adult me, and finding a place that fits me, instead of the other way around.

And that was my nostalgia trip, in quite the literal sense of the phrase. I have a picture or two to share in another post, so stay tuned for that as well...

#personal post #autism #disneyland #of course this happens during World Autism Month #so my emotions were a little all over the place #reflections #reflections from the road #childhood #thoughts #nostalgia #thank you all you lovely people for being here #<3

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jasmines-library · 7 months

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Hii my bday is at 18th and i’m spending it alone so i thought of requesting a winchester sister where they just celebrate her birthday softly hahah

A Winchester Surprise

Hello lovely! Happy Birthday! Thank you so much for requesting, it means a lot to hear that people are enjoying my work. I'm sorry to hear that you have to celebrate your special day alone, but I'm hoping that the Winchesters will help cheer you up a little :)

Summary: After years of your birthday being forgotten or consumed by a hunt, your brothers make sure that this one is extra special.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: around 1.6k

⛤ MAIN MASTERLIST ⛤

When you awoke the bunker was silent. Your bare feet padded down the hallway as you made your way towards the kitchen. To your disappointment, Dean wasn't hovering over the cooker, nursing a tray of bacon. He wasn't in the library either. Furrowing your brow, you ventured back down the halls, settling outside of his room. You knocked, bouncing on your heels as you waited for his gruff answer, but you were only met with silence. So, you pushed the door open.

Dean's room was dark, but when you reached blindly for the switch, his bed was empty and unmade. Sighing, you turned up the hall to try your other brother. Similarly there was no sign Sam, though his sheets were neatly tucked into his bed. You figured he must have been on a run, until your phone buzzed and his number flashed up on the screen. Your heart sank when you read the message.

Sam: A hunt came up last minute, didn't want to wake you. It's not far. We should be back in a few hours, if not there's food in the fridge.

You sighed, shutting your phone off and slipping it back into your pocket. They had forgotten. Again.

For years, your birthday had often slipped their minds. When John was still alive, your special day hardly ever crossed his train of thought. When you were too young to hunt, your birthday was often spent with your brothers, locked away in some shitty motel room in the middle of who knows where. Dean was the one who made an effort to get you something. A few times he had even resorted to stealing, though that never really ended well, but the gesture always brought a grin to your face. Sammy always tried hard too, he would draw you pictures of give you one of his precious items that he had stashed away. But as they three of you got older and your brothers began to hunt, you were often left alone.

You wanted to be mad at your brothers for forgetting your birthday, you really did, but with everything that was going on in your lives you supposed it was something that was understandable. Besides, it was too hard to be mad at them when they tried so hard to balance everything.

Slightly disheartened, but trying to to let it ruin your day, you busied yourself with various jobs around the bunker. But as time ticked by and there was still no sign of your brothers, you picked up a book and slunk back into your room, curling up on your bed to read it.

It wasn’t long after you had settled down to read your book that a loud commotion broke through the silence of your room, occasionally broken but the sound of your pages turning. Intrigued, you slid out of bed and into the rest of the bunker.

It was oddly dark in the main entrance to the bunker, which was weird because you didn’t remember turning off the light. It was even stranger because if your brothers were home, they would need the light to see.

“Hello?” You called out into the silence. There was a hubble of whispering and shuffling coming from the library before it fell silent again. “Sam? Dean?”

As you made your way into the library, you reached blindly for the light switch. It flickered on, illuminating the room. When your turned around, your heart swelled.

In front of you stood your two brothers, spaced either side of the closest table, each wearing a party hat that looked far too uncomfortable on their heads. They had decorated the table with a selection of balloons in your favourite colour. In front of them lay a pile of badly wrapped gifts. Some of which were just paper bags from the gas station folded over and taped together with your name or some sort of drawing scrawled along the top.

What really caught you eye, and allowed a long smile to appear on your face, was the pie placed precariously in the centre of the table. Someone had suck a couple of candles in the middle of it.

“I- I thought you forgot.” You told them.

“How could we forget, sweetheart. It’s our little sisters special day.” Dean said, moving around the table to wrap you up in one of his bearhugs.

“You did all this for me?”

“Of course we did, kiddo.”

You grinned, engulfed in your brothers’ arms.

“There was no hunt, was there?”

Sam shook his head, which only made your heart swell more. They had taken time out of their day to do this for you.

“I know it’s not much, but we didn’t really know what to get you.” Dean told you. “And we couldn’t find a cake we thought you would like so we got you your favourite pie instead. But if you want us to go and get you something else then we can-“

“It’s perfect.” You beamed, cutting off his rambling.

“Dean was planning on cooking you up something to eat tonight. We thought it would be nice to also watch a movie or something together. We’ve got all the snacks you could ever need.”

“I would love that.”

~~~

The rest of the evening was full of laughter. Dean had attempted to cook your mothers famous casserole, but he wasn’t very successful. He ended up spilling half of the contents before burning the rest in the oven, so the three of you ordered your choice of take out. You then retracted to your room and piled up on the bed to watch a movie. You were squashed between the two boys, who took up most of the bed. Especially Sam. It reminded you of when you were small. And it brought a soft smile to your face.

“Thank you.” You told your brothers as the first film rolled to a close.

“For what?” Dean queried, shifting on the bed to face you.

You gestured around the room. “For this.”

“Oh y/n, it’s nothing really kiddo-“ Sam started.

“And for always being there. I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”

Sam looked at you in awe, before using the arm he had wrapped around your shoulder to squeeze you closer to him. “We’re so proud of you, Y/N. So proud.”

You smiled at Sam who returned the gesture without hesitation. Dean watched the two of you closely. He had had never been so proud of two people, ever.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.” Dean told you. “We love you so much.”

Note: I hope this was satisfactory! And I hope that you have a great birthday. Lots of love :)

#supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural x sister reader #birthday #birthday surprise #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #sam winchester x sister reader #Sam Winchester x reader #dean winchester x sister reader #Dean Winchester x reader #fluff #fluffy

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thesweetnessofspring · 4 months

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What blows my mind on rereading the books is how attracted to Peeta Katniss is. I hadn’t read them for years so I did think of them as a typical wholesome relationship with a nice guy that never dives into the attraction parts. But now I see the constant flirting that happens, the hunger and need to be close, the description of his body and face, the whole beach scene. And Peeta is super respectful for all of the books but Suzanne didn’t make it seem like a lot of nice guys are written where they wouldn’t dare show any attraction. Peeta in the cave is sneaking in kisses and post games he mentions them being alone together. They’re RIDICULOUSLY into each other . And I appreciate that they found the balance of a nice couple being horny for each other, it always feels like most media at the time portrayed sexual need as something that can only happen with bad boys.

They are into each other at EVERY SINGLE LEVEL it is ridiculous. As a fandom grandma, I remember when people were fancasting Peeta back in the day and one of the more popular choices (though he was 🤢 for many reasons) was Alex Pettyfer. I think a lot of people pictured Peeta super hot (as opposed to what he really is, which is boy-next-door-cute) in part because Katniss's details and descriptions of him are soooo layered with her attraction. Like yes, Katniss, please go on more about his big strong arms and the sunlight in his hair and his blue eyes. 😂 We don't get Peeta's POV but it's obvious he's smitten by her physically as well, saying the flames suit her and that to him she's "perfect."

And Peeta!! That boy could be such a heartbreaker if he wanted to! He flirts with Katniss so effortlessly and in general is really good around people, but he never gives her cause to be jealous (by my reading of the book he doesn't with Johanna in the elevator, even though the movie interpreted that part differently). And oh my, does Katniss crave his touches! Even from book one she's giving him genuine gestures of affection and delighted in what he gives to her. I think because kissing is more intimate she has a harder time feeling the "hunger" when they only ever kiss in front of the camera. I've said it before and I'll say it again, if Katniss ever had a chance to really kiss Peeta without cameras around she would have made up her mind about the boys a lot sooner.

Non, it is so, so, SO important to me that Katniss and Peeta have that real sexual chemistry you talk about and why the movies are so disappointing in this aspect. I think that relationships between adults in shows and movies have offered more that are "healthy, in love, and hot for each other" recently, but we hardly ever see it for teenagers! The "nice guy" is usually kinda awkward or there isn't a lot of chemistry, and all of the sexual tension comes from the "bad boy." There isn't really a bad boy equivalent in THG, but Peeta still fills in a sort of "good guy" role in the love triangle and the fact that Gale can get jealous and pushy but Katniss is still like 😑 with him, but 🥰 around Peeta is sooooooooooooo important. Like yes, teach those young people that healthy conflict resolution is hot!! Teach them that safety and gentleness is a turn-on!! YES YES YES!!!

#everlark #anon ask

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nyxronomicon · 6 months

Text

Part i: Man of God

ex-husband!Geto x fem!reader

summary: Nearly a year and a half after your divorce, Suguru Geto still texts you. You stopped responding after he told you the ridiculous lie that he was a priest a year ago. When he sends a picture of himself in his priest robes, you feel a little guilty about ignoring him all this time. reader: she/her pronouns, wears a skirt/dress, tits & vagina pet names: my love note: I use MC in the place of y/n because I prefer it cw: religious themes, yandere!Geto

masterlist | ao3 mirror

The church bells chimed like clockwork. Geto continued to page through his bible. He wasn’t reading it, rather going through the motions. No one knew that when that book was open, he was replaying his memories of you rather than reading the contents. It didn’t matter. Ever since you left him, the words brought him no comfort. Not that they did before, but the way his parents always talked about religion felt like there might be some kind of salvation between the pages.

He’d gotten into the habit after filling in at their church. For some reason, they thought they’d raised him to be devout. They didn’t know about the tattoos that covered his arms or the piercings he’d gotten in places they’d never see. They were always telling their priests how kind and dedicated he was, so when they suddenly needed someone to step in, Geto somehow got roped into helping. It was all based on the lies he told them to appease them.

At the time, Geto was at rock bottom. You’d left him only a couple of months prior. Normally he would have said no, but he really needed the break from his old life. His natural charisma made him very popular, and even though he didn’t really know the bible like his parents claimed he did, he found it easy to pick out sermon topics because every day he felt like the Lord was testing him. Just knowing you were out in the world living your life without him killed him inside.

And so, paging through his bible, under the guise of preparing for today’s sermon, he was desperate for some kind of miracle to fall from the pages. Some way to get you back.

The bells chimed again. The church organ played a hymn. Geto sighed and snapped the worn bible closed. This marked one year. 365 days since your last interaction. He opened his phone, scrolling to the last text message from you. He’d just told you he had become a priest, hoping maybe you’d see he’s trying to be a better man. You didn’t believe him. He occasionally texted you even now, trying to keep the lines of communication open, but that was your last response.

One year ago, he started preaching. He felt like such a hypocrite. Not once did he even believe his own words about love and salvation. How could this room of fools listen to such a flawed man? He sighed, setting the bible down.

365 days later, but you were still right. He wasn’t a better man. Maybe he’d gone from a salary man to a priest, but he was certainly no man of God.

Geto walked down the church corridor to begin the sermon. He wore the basic regalia as he strolled down the aisle past the congregation. He might as well have had blinders on as he gave the sermon. It was always the same. He’d say some lofty God-fearing shit, and the congregation ate it up.

He was just going through the motions. In a lot of ways, nothing had changed. Not from a year ago. Not from four months before that when you first told him you wanted a divorce.

He certainly hadn't changed. His heart ached just as much as it did when you said those words. His love for you never faded. It was the only thing that didn't hurt. Or perhaps he'd just deluded himself into thinking that.

Immediately after the sermon, he disappeared into his office again, looking at that tattered bible that offered no salvation. No miracles. And not one way to win you back. He considered opening it. Paging through and thinking of you, like he always did. Like you were the god he’d been praying to all this time.

Instead, he opened his text messages to you again. He briefly looked through his fruitless attempts at conversation. Then he saw your last words again.

MC: You? A priest? That’s the funniest shit I’ve ever heard.

He sighed and typed one more message. Then he deleted it, typing something else. He agonized over what to send, but it just didn’t feel right to leave things like this. Like you were a stranger.

Your phone chimed at your Sunday brunch. Seeing who it was from, you immediately swiped the notification away. Geto didn’t text you often, and you hadn’t entertained the idea of replying since the last lie. You didn’t even remember what it was, truth be told. At any rate, you heard he went back to his hometown, so you didn’t know why he kept bugging you.

Just like every time he texted you, the memories came flooding back just from seeing his name. Good memories, sure, but the bad memories came with them. The manipulation. The lies. For all the shit he put you through, your heart still beat a little faster knowing he was thinking about you. It was unfair he still had this hold on you.

You were a little drunk after brunch when you got another text message from Geto. It was probably a bad idea to read it now, but you figured you should just get it over with so you could get him out of your head.

Geto: I guess a normal man would have given up on you a year ago. Sorry it’s a little late.

Attached to the first message was a selfie of him in his priest's robes. You laughed, thinking he looked so different from when you knew him. Although you asked for the divorce and you were the one pushing him away, it still stung a little to think that you didn’t really know him anymore. Then you scrolled down to the next text.

Geto: I have to resign, though. Last chance for a confessional.

You looked at the message, feeling a little melancholy that you missed the entirety of his priest arc. Or rather, you were about to. You glanced at the clock; it was still early. You wondered if you should reply. You didn’t really know what to say. Looking back at the last thing you said though, you felt he deserved a response since it turned out he was telling the truth.

MC: Forgive me, father, for I have sinned…

A silent chuckle escaped your lips as you hit send. Less than a couple of minutes later, your phone rang. You didn’t have to look to know who it was, but you stared in shock at the name on your screen, anyway. You were feeling drunk and nostalgic. If you were in your right mind, you would have ignored the call, but seeing him in his priest's robes made you want to make fun of him a little. You answered the call but immediately fell silent when it connected.

"... MC?" Geto said after a moment. His voice brought back so many memories. So many feelings. And your name… the way he said it didn’t seem to lose any of the tender affection you once remembered.

"Geto." Your voice did the same to him, although as long as it had been since he’d heard you speak, it had been even longer since you used his last name. The gravity of your decision to answer just hit you, and you wondered if this would snowball into something new. Or rather, something old. Something you spent all this time trying to forget. To erase.

"You know you don’t need to be formal with me." He tried to mask his excitement. Just hearing your voice had his heart racing, although you didn’t seem particularly thrilled to be speaking with him.

"I know." There was a pause as you both seemed stuck. You didn’t think he’d call, and he didn’t think you’d answer.

"Why did you call me?" You said after a while.

"Sorry." He chuckled nervously. "Honestly, I thought this would go to voicemail."

"I’m…" There was another pause as you thought about what you should say. Something that wouldn’t topple the walls you’d built between the two of you. "I’m just as surprised as you."

"You’re surprised you answered?" His voice was like the sweetest honey. His tone reminded you of late night pillow talks, the sweet nothings he’d string together as you fell asleep.

"Yeah… I was at brunch earlier, I’m not… sober…" You trailed off, feeling a little stupid now.

Geto laughed. "I miss getting brunch. That’s the first thing I’ll do once my Sundays are free." There was another pause as you waited for him to get to the point. "I, um... I’m moving back to the city."

"Here?" You responded, your heart thumping in your chest. You couldn’t place the emotion.

"Yeah." He sounded sad. "This was a nice detour, but it doesn’t pay much. Dating prospects aren’t any good, either." He laughed.

"Aww," you giggled, "No one wants to date a hot young priest like you anymore? Having an affair would be way more fun than just resigning." There was a silence that made you feel this joke was perhaps a little too much. Of course, he wouldn’t want to talk about dating with his ex.

"Unfortunately, the right person never came along." His tone was still lighthearted, but you had a weird feeling in your heart as he spoke. Like you were better off not knowing who he had in mind- because the "right person" was you.

"You never know. They could come in next week and throw themself at you." You wanted to change the subject, but you didn’t know how.

"That’s doubtful." He chuckled. "I guess fucking in a confessional was on my bucket list for a long time, though, huh?"

"I can’t believe you got the keys to the church and haven’t made it happen yet." You laughed. "You must be pretty rusty." There was another pause, this one longer.

"I was thinking," Geto finally gained the courage to break the silence. "I’d like to meet up when I move back. Just the two of us."

"Geto…" You sighed. You knew this was coming.

"Please, call me Suguru. Like you used to." He interrupted.

"I can’t… We can’t." Your heart ached having to reject him like this. But you’d put so much energy into forgetting the way he made you feel. Even just talking to him over the phone like this made you realize how weak the walls you built were. How easily he could topple them with three little words.

"I… miss you." And there they were, just a murmur from his lips. The silence afterward was deafening. Even so, he waited for a response. Every moment you made him wait was suffocating. Here he was, standing in the church’s office, door locked, talking to his ex just like the heathen he used to be. Like the heathen he still was, deep down.

"Don’t do this to me, Suguru." Your voice was soft. Tinged with a familiar sadness. The very same that consumed Geto. But when you said his first name, it made his heart jump in his chest, bringing him more happiness than your wedding day.

"Would it be too much to ask you to attend my final sermon?" He asked. One more rejection from you would be it. The nail in the coffin. There was another long pause.

"I’m guessing it’s your parents' church? Kinda far from here." You sighed. Just a few hours' travel, but you’d have to stay the night somewhere.

"I’ll get you a hotel." Geto offered. "Just think about it. You don’t have to answer now."

"Okay. I’ll think about it." You relented. It would be kind of funny to see him up there. Not that it was a good enough reason to go out of your way for your ex-husband.

"I’ll let you go, but…" Geto trailed off for a moment. "I just wanted you to know. There isn’t anyone else. There never was." And a short pause told you the words he left out- there never will be.

Your heart ached, if only because deep down you felt the same way. You wanted to give him another chance, but you knew how bad it could be for you.

"Goodbye, Geto." You hung up the phone without waiting for a response.

Three years ago.

"I feel bad." You sighed.

"Believe it or not, Nanami will have another birthday next year." Suguru stroked your head as you cuddled against his chest.

"Yeah, but I missed last year, too." You couldn’t even remember the last time you saw him, now that you were thinking about it. "I should text him."

"For what?" You heard your husband scoff. His scent was so comforting, your nude bodies tangled together after your early morning tryst.

"I just feel like I’m losing our friendship. I don’t know." As you spoke, your husband’s gentle touch put your worried mind at ease.

"He doesn’t need you." Suguru’s tone was cold. "You’re just an accessory to him. Something to make him feel less lonely." His grip around your waist tightened. "You don’t need to waste your time on someone like that."

"It’s not a waste." You refuted. "I enjoy spending time with him."

"More than me?" He ran his fingers up your back. There was a short pause. "It’s never just friendship with men. You know that, right? They always want something."

"What are you suggesting?" You looked up at your husband.

"Maybe he has a little crush, I don’t know." Suguru sighed, sitting up. "I don’t trust him. He’s too… persistent with you."

"You know, you could always come with me when I see my friends." You felt cold in the bed with his warmth gone.

"Why?"

So that he could watch you hug them? Fawn over them? Waste your undivided attention on them? No, if he was forced to choose, he’d rather be waiting for you at home. He didn’t want to waste his time on your stupid friends. Friendship was just temporary anyway. Nothing like the unshakeable bond he shared with you.

"It would make me happy," your voice was meek, "if you tried to get along with them."

There was a long pause and Geto smiled, looking back at you. "Of course, my love. I promise, I’ll try." Of course, these were just words to Suguru Geto.

tagging @suget

#jjk geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu geto

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the-darklings · 2 years

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Hi, I absolutely adore tibyim I know lots of people have said it but you really capture dream so perfectly and I am loving reading the whole story and all of your drabbles. I also love your additional things like your playlist and Pinterest boards. The whole picture you paint is beautiful and I just wanted to let you know that. I know you are accepting some requests for drabbles but if you could possibly do one for dream saying “I don’t think you understand the… effect you have on me.” (From the Pinterest text posts for dream/wanderer 👀). Please don’t worry if not I just love all of your content for this fic, thank you for all you are doing and this whole story is helping me deal with a lot of personal stuff I have going on atm and I just wanted to thank you for adding some rays of sunshine into the world. ✨

pea-sized because i'm about to head off and shower. I've been a bit :/// these last few days, so apologies for the slower replies/interactions. not proofread. We die like Corinthian's lovers.

“I do not think you understand the… effect you have on me, Wanderer.”

Your mouth wobbles, resting agape while you process his words. It's rare for Dream to cut you off mid-speech—rarer, still, for him to do so with sudden, quietly fierce declarations.

"I was just talking," you mumble, your brows knitting at once.

"Yes, quite so," he agrees quietly, still peering at you intently.

Your mouth presses together this time, reading the small tells. Details you've come to decipher in him the way one may solve a puzzle. Dream of the Endless is near impossible individual to read. A tall, severe, often sullen paradox, unmoved in his iron-like convictions and stubborn ways.

Nearly, but not entirely.

Balancing on your heels, you prowl closer, your hands falling to rest behind your back. You stop right before him, gazing at him from beneath your lashes. A small, playful smile plays across your mouth, and Dream's chest expands with a silent, rather telling breath.

"And what effect may that be, Dream Lord?" you ask.

Your faux-innocent, coy question is met with a dry: "A highly vexing and a deeply distracting one."

Your mouth shapes a small 'o'. "Then I'll speak no words, offer you no smiles, and bestow no kisses upon you. It would be rather disastrous if I distracted one of the Endless so terribly. How selfish of me."

Dream's features ease slightly at your teasing, the tiniest of smiles edging across his mouth. "Most selfish indeed. But I'm afraid I will have to renegotiate."

"Oh?" you prompt with a raised brow. "Which part?"

Dream takes a step closer, and the space around you fills with him. The Dreaming, as always, moves with its Lord and cold night, dry books, and daydreams in their sweet, velvety softness wrap around you. An arm around your waist, a steadying body pressing into yours. Endless. With power, few could ever match.

"All parts," he replies.

Your smile widens, your fingers knotting in the lapels of his midnight coat. "Rather selfish of you. If Dream King wants a kiss, he needs only ask for one."

"Nicely, I presume?"

A small hmm vibrates in your throat, implication laid bare, and Dream's silvery, glowing gaze darkens. "Stardust..."

You slant closer, holding him by the lapels, and Dream's soft exhales kiss over your mouth. He leans into you as you did, his grip around you constricting, fingers knotting tighter around you though his features betray little of his internal struggle. You veer left at the last moment, just when heat grazes near your parted mouth, instead skimming your lips across his cool, hollowed cheek. You linger there, imprinting love and devotion there.

This close, Dream's exhale is shuddering, near pained, but it's hard to judge if it's frustration or elation or a wicked mix of both.

"Yes," you hum happily as you pull away, releasing your hold on him. "It would seem I do have quite the effect. I'll be sure to abuse it in the future. You can never escape my evil wiles now."

A deep, rumbling sound builds in Dream's throat. He sweeps his coat around you abruptly, and your delighted, knowing laugh is lost in the pockets of the universe.

You don't make it to bed. Not any tactile version of it anyway.

#the sandman #dream x reader #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #morpheus imagines #sandman x reader #the sandman netflix #sandman dream #morpheus x fem!reader #dream x fem!reader #sandman imagine #tom sturridge #fic: today i bury you in me #they're being like this and we're just letting them huh?

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wouldntyou-liketoknow · 4 months

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Just Another Night at Sparky's

(Disclaimer: Ness/WaiterPat and Jack/Cabbie!Cory are not my creations. I gave Jack his name because he wasn't given one in the movie. Now, one of the characters you'll be seeing here technically belongs to me, but I don't really consider him a full fanego.)

(I was already planning to write for Ness and Jack, but after I learned how Mark was originally intended to play the role of that first security guard who died, I decided to adopt that abandoned character. Go here for headcanons and a more thorough explanation.)

(Certain plot-points in this story were inspired by @flawlessstriker and @insane4fandoms! These two are very talented artists, and I'm not sure I would've thought of such clever/funny easter eggs if I hadn't seen some of their own work, so please go check out their blogs and show them some love!)

(Trigger Warnings: food and drink, eating/drinking, implied trauma, mentions of past violence, mentions of blood, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

In Ness’ personal experience, the people who dined at Sparky’s could be divided into three sections on a metaphorical pie chart.

Twenty-four percent of customers were. . .just a little off. Not like that was necessarily a bad thing, mind you. Working in the restaurant business meant having to interact with lots of people each and every day. At some point, you’d learn to pick up on certain things that were odd in the way you couldn’t quite put your finger on (or, perhaps you just knew deep down that you didn’t want to).

Ness strolled out of the kitchen and into the seating area, expertly balancing a tray on one hand. He approached a couple of bespectacled young women in one corner of the diner.

Their visits to Sparky’s were a bit sporadic, but they never failed to claim that one booth in the corner that no-one else ever sat at no matter how crowded the joint was. The backpacks they always hauled along were positioned further up the booth’s seat cushions, half-open and nearly overspilling with various books.

They always used indoor voices, but he could still pick up bits and pieces of their conversation whenever he was near.

Tonight was no different:

“—he’ll be hungrier than usual,” murmured the one on the left, who boasted short, wavy hair that had been dyed a dark shade of violet. It complimented her shirt, which read ADOPT A FAMILIAR at the top. Pictures of creepy-looking critters were displayed beneath the message, orange-eyed and outlined by blue against the black fabric. “And he’ll need a live one this time.”

“Ooh,” replied the one on the right, who sported a yellow shirt with the screen-printed likeness of some obscure, spikey-haired cartoon character near the collar. A blonde ponytail spilled out from the back of her ball cap. “Who’s it gonna be? The lady whose eyes were found in that jar last month?”

“Nah, she’ll be in some psych ward. Too far-gone to keep on the playing board, y’know?” A sly grin etched its way across Urban Fantasy Nerd’s features. “I was actually wondering if you’d like to choose. Your guy is making the delivery, after all.”

“Ah, that’s right!” Cartoon-Fan snickered in a way that was just a teensy bit unhinged. “I can already see him slipping on some of the blood."

“Third time’s a charm?” Ness asked as he halted, carefully setting this duo’s Usual on the table.

(Two milkshakes: one chocolate, the other strawberry. Yeah, it was kind of basic, but he wasn’t too much of a judgemental guy. Besides, Sparky’s shakes were a much safer option than the lilac-colored drinks that chicken shack around the corner had started selling. And Ness didn’t just carry that opinion because of his employment. During one of his typical night-walks, he’d passed an alley just in time to see said purple beverage oozing through said chicken shack’s windows. The strong, sugary smell wafting off it had reminded him of prion disease.)

The girls both paused. Though they smiled up at him and offered quiet “Thank-yous,” as they moved their respective, sticker-covered laptops out of the way, visible confusion mixed itself into their gratitude.

“For the university’s creative writing contest, I mean,” Ness elaborated. “There were articles in the paper about the last two, and I saw your pictures in the list of winners. Congratulations, by the way.”

“. . .Oh,” Urban Fantasy Nerd answered, exchanging careful glances with her friend. “Yeah. Writing. Let’s go with that.”

“If anyone asks, we were also writing here two months ago,” Cartoon-Fan added with a conspiratory wink. “On Friday, between five-thirty and nine o’clock.”

Ness chuckled, raising one hand to pull an invisible zipper over his lips. “You’ve got it. Enjoy.”

As he retraced his steps to organize some stuff behind the coffee counter, a little voice in the back of his theater-trained head wondered if the girls’ tones had been joking enough. Unlike many times before, he pushed that voice aside.

On one hand, missing person cases did always seem to pop up on the news channels a few days after the two students stopped by to enjoy milkshakes while typing away and occasionally turning the screens of their laptops toward one another.

On the other hand. . .well, those cases were always located states and states away, typically near more seaside areas. None of them had been anywhere close to Utah. (Not yet, at least.)

Besides, even if those girls were somehow connected to more sinister things than their coursework, they were still very nice. Good tippers, too. Nowhere near the worst patrons Ness had served in his time.

The strange customers almost always seemed to come in pairs.

Like the duo of twenty-somethings from last week. One sported ginger hair and a She/They button pinned to their jacket. The soot-stains on said jacket had been very obvious, as were the burn scars on their palms, but she’d still been a delight to make smalltalk with.

The other, a pale young man, had been much more quiet, but still friendly. He’d kept peering through the window at (what was presumably) his or his friend’s car, shakily fidgeting with the headphones around his neck, so it’d taken some time for Ness to realize that his eyes were just as reflective as mirrors.

(For the duration of their stay, the jukebox over by the counter had spat out songs that most certainly weren’t on its index cards. Fine, that might’ve caught Ness a bit off-guard at first, but he still knew to appreciate variety.)

Or the two men who’d come in a few months ago, wearing battered navy-blue bomber jackets and thousand-yard-stares. The one with a dyed-red fauxhawk had screamed and practically leapt out of his skin when Ness came over with menus and his usual greeting, but he’d apologized soon enough. After giving Ness a thorough look-over, that is.

His companion, a similarly dark-eyed man with a larynx that could only be found on seasoned musicians, had muttered, “Don’t mind him. We’ve just. . .had a bit of a rough trip.” His voice hadn’t been unkind, but he’d kept glancing at Ness whenever he thought he wasn’t looking.

Well, perhaps that particular pair had broken the trend a bit. Because a few hours after they’d paid for their food and left, a lone traveler had come in.

His bloodshot eyes—which Ness could’ve sworn were orange instead of brown—had never stopped bulging, never stopped darting this way and that above his rictus of a smile. When he wasn’t speaking, he’d hum or murmur things with a shakiness that was typically found in rabid dogs.

He’d asked for way more coffee refills than could ever be considered healthy, as well as if Ness had seen anyone fitting the descriptions of Red-Haired-Screamer and Wary-Possible-Musician. Ness, following his instincts, had said no, to which the loner started simply shaking his head and grinning with a mouthful of teeth that looked a smidge too sharp.

Or the scruffy man who'd started coming in for breakfast every other week with his young sister in tow. He was living proof that you could recognize someone without officially knowing them. After all, it was pretty damn easy for Ness to remember almost making eye-contact with him, barely moving out of reach of his flashlight’s beam in time, and then having the seconds feel like hours as he watched him shake his head and mutter to himself about seeing things.

It wasn’t like that’d been Ness’ first little midnight rendezvous around Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzaria. Just like how that particular man wasn’t the first security guard who’d gotten dangerously close to spotting him during his unofficial, self-driven investigations.

For the record, Ness knew that said investigations weren’t legal—especially not if you counted some of the things he’d. . .borrowed from the old animatronic jamboree restaurant—but he’d made his peace with that.

He hadn’t been sneaking around there to deal drugs or partake in any himself.

He wasn’t exactly chasing the adrenaline that always came with an evening full of ducking around corners and trying to ignore how loud his shoes sounded against linoleum floors when he rushed to find anything he could feasibly hide behind, underneath, or inside of.

He never meant any harm when it came to snooping.

It was just a simple case of having a little too much curiosity.

Thankfully, Security Guard #13 still had yet to show up at Ness’ place with some accompanying cops, so it seemed he didn’t recognize Ness as anything other than a humble waiter. (Or, if he did actually recognize Ness from that night, then he was miraculously chill enough to not bring it up and get him in trouble.)

The very first time they’d paid Sparky’s a visit, it would’ve been impossible to ignore the distinct smell that had been wafting off of Security Guard #13. It’d had a bite to it; like machine oil mixed with something much more. . .organic.

From that bleak look Ness had seen in his eyes, Security Guard #13 was most certainly NOT what anyone could call unbothered, but he was still polite. Plus, Kid Sister was the type who just deserved all the crayons in the world, what with the little masterpieces she’d decorated the paper menus with.

So, yeah. There was a genuine difference between oddball customers and customers that made you lose some of your faith in humanity.

People who asked for trout to be blended into their yogurt parfait or for their donuts to be topped with slices of pickles that had gathered fuzz from their mysterious journeys at the back of the refrigerator were still easier to handle than people who threw temper tantrums because they didn’t get a refill in under thirty seconds.

Back to the pie-chart—another forty-six percent of customers were perfectly decent and standard.

Plenty of the locals had a soft spot for this joint; Ness had lost count of all the times he’d been told that the pancakes served here were some of the best on planet Earth. Yeah, praise like that technically wasn’t directed at him, but the cooks were great people to work with, so it still made him happy to relay said praise to them.

He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t awkward for someone to confusedly ask if they’d already seen him working at the bar on the other side of town. Even so, that once-a-month occurrence always left him amused rather than annoyed. If anything, it attested to that particular customer’s observation skills.

Sure, he and Sans were identical twins—the fact that their uncle had mixed them up on several different occasions when they were little was still a running joke in the family. But it’d been years since Sans had decided to remedy that via a skeleton face-mask and a dark blue leather jacket, and he’d made a habit to don both aforementioned garments each day ever since then. (Ness was still in partial disbelief that the manager at Grillby’s was cool enough to let Sans wear them over his uniform.)

Just as many of Sans’ customers apparently ended up mistaking him for Ness. Sans got a nice little kick out of that, of course. He hadn’t just been born with a comedic heart—it truly seemed every bone in his body was a funny one. Some people would argue that he just delivered puns upon more puns upon even more puns, but Ness knew his brother better than that.

After all, Sans had been the one to train him to deal with the last category of customers: the thirty percent of entitled neanderthals who thought treating staff as less than human would somehow magically make their miserable lives more interesting.

“Food work is all about balance,” Sans had explained sometime after he and Ness had grown tall enough to take plates and cups from a counter without having to stand on their tip-toes. “You’ve gotta be nice and still let people know that you won’t take their crap. If they’re civil, then you’re helpful. But if they’re rude. . .” Sans had paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “. . .then you have a little fun.”

Ness had always been a pretty fast learner. It’d taken a week or so of practice, yeah, but with his twin’s help, he’d developed a tongue sharp enough to rival any butcher knife in the kitchen.

“You use a lot of big words for a waiter,” snorted a wannabe business bigshot with a wrinkled clip-on tie and a way, waaaaaay over-gelled hairdo that spoke volumes of desperation.

Ness, who’d been explaining the differences between certain ingredients and flavor-enhancing chemicals because Hair Gel’s girlfriend had asked a fair question about the smoothies on the menu, barely batted an eyelid when he came back with, “And you smell a lot like hotdog water for someone who apparently doesn’t work with food.”

“This was the WORST thing I’ve ever put in my mouth!” Exclaimed a woman with an unidentifiable crust caked around the corners of her eyes and an ill-fitting shirt that was advertising some essential oil brand.

“I highly doubt that,” Ness mentioned, raising an eyebrow as he took the plate (which was suspiciously much emptier than when he’d first brought it out) from her table, “but whatever you say. . .”

“Oh! Thank you!” A tiny boy who couldn’t have been older than seven chirped, bouncing in his seat when Ness placed a sundae down in front of him.

Ness had been about to reply, but the boy’s mother—a lady who was trying very hard to look posh (but not succeeding very well due her asymmetrical haircut, as well as all the little green marks around the jewelry she was practically drowning in)—cut him off.

“You don’t need to thank him, sweetheart,” she’d instructed, reaching across the table to corral her son. “That’s his job.”

That one had, admittedly, forced Ness to take a deep breath and appeal to his higher self for a few seconds. Despite this, he’d still made sure to look that Karen dead in the eyes when he observed, “I’m not sure what your problem is, ma’am. But it must be hard for you to pronounce.”

(At least the boy didn’t seem to be too influenced; his bright eyes were nothing but apologetic when Ness came back with the check.)

The relative silence was shattered by the jingling call of that little bell suspended over the front entrance. Ness blinked, his train of thought screeching to a halt. He glanced over in the door’s direction, grinning at a familiar sight.

Another regular; one that Ness got to have actual conversations with on nights like tonight.

Mason glanced around at all the empty tables, brushing back his nearly shoulder-length raven hair and quickly getting the hint that he could just seat himself.

A golden retriever trotted beside him, connected to a leash in his hand via a pink vest that’d been fastened around her shoulders and belly. It was adorned by black velcro straps that read THERAPY DOG in a bold white font. The forest-green sherpa hoodie Mason always seemed to wear was only about half as fluffy as her fur.

Ness ducked into the kitchen. No more than three seconds had passed before the last cook on duty for tonight—a lanky blonde guy who was perhaps the most unapologetically flamboyant foodie you could ever have the honor of knowing—called, “Order Up! Your buddies’ Usuals, fresh from that babbling kiddie pool of oil.”

Dylan set a triad of dishes onto a waiting platter: the first held a stack of waffles (much like Sparky’s pancakes, their recipe was a secret that his very own grandmother had entrusted him with) and fried chicken tenders. The second supported a small mound of bacon. The third was adorned by a couple club sandwiches with a side of mozzarella sticks.

“Thanks, man. Right on time,” Ness called back as he hefted the platter up, balancing it on the anterior region of his forearm like he'd been taught so long ago, and traipsed back out. The door swung to and fro behind him as he headed over to Booth Five.

Though she wasn’t actually in the booth, Checkers was still right by her owner’s side, sitting in a way that could almost remind you of those lion statues guarding the entrance to a Chinese temple. She spotted Ness before Mason did. Her ears perked up, tail starting to wag. Her tongue lapped in and out of her mouth like a party favor as she smiled in that way only dogs could.

Mason, who’d been gazing through the window and fidgeting with his hoodie’s drawstrings, ever-so-slightly flinched as Ness began setting the plates down on the table with a chorus of small clunks. He blinked at the food, as if suddenly remembering the weekly tradition he’d made here.

“How do you always do that?” Mason asked as he turned his head toward Ness, a small smile etching its way across his features.

“Magic,” Ness answered. “Careful, it’s hot.”

He carried the now empty tray back over to the counter. There, his hands became a blur as he snatched up the coffee pot and produced a trio of mugs. After stirring memorized amounts of cream and sugar into the fresh brew, he returned to the table, setting two of the beverages beside the plates.

Ness hovered, his own cup of smoldering caffeine in hand, and glanced around the restaurant. Aside from Mason and those two writers in the corner (who, as Ness had learned, took generous amounts of time with the shakes they always ordered), Sparky’s was empty tonight.

With that in mind, Ness dragged a chair away from one of the other tables, positioning it at the end of the booth. Yeah, he could’ve just sat on the opposite side of Mason, but that part of the booth was typically reserved for another one of his friends.

Subtle relief washed over Ness’ knees as he took a seat; he’d been standing and walking pretty much all day.

Mason plucked a strip of bacon from one of the plates, checking to make sure that it was nice and warm without threatening to burn the palette. He then lightly tossed it over to Checkers, who snapped it out of the air almost like a frog catching flies. She lowered her head as the treat crunched between her teeth.

“How’ve things been?” Ness inquired, taking a sip of his coffee. “The theater’s gotten busy, yeah?”

Mason nodded as he took a fork and knife into his hands, cutting a piece off of one of the waffles and dipping it into the complimentary cup of syrup. “Yeah, it really has. Feels like whenever one movie runs its course and is taken off our roster, two more pop up in its place. Especially now that Scream 3 is finally on the market."

“. . .Oh, that’s right! It is!” Ness ever-so-slightly jumped in his seat. After enjoying the first two movies, he’d been meaning to give the latest installment a look. But so far, whether it was Sparky’s being slammed on the more favorable days or Royal Edgar’s Cinema being too crowded for his liking, things had just kept getting in the way.

Acting on instinct, Ness fished a pencil from one of his waist-apron’s pockets. At first, said pencil might not have seemed like anything special. But then you saw Fabio: a priceless treasure shaped like a rubber chicken’s head covering up the eraser. Ness started spinning the pencil between his fingers, causing Fabio to wiggle as though it was alive.

“Have you seen it already? Is it good? I have so many ideas about where the story could pick up from—”

“Hey, hey. Slow down," Mason remarked with some clear exasperation. “I haven't, but I am scheduled to project its last showing sometime next week. . .” He took a bite out of one of the chicken tenders, humming thoughtfully as he chewed. He must’ve seen the glint in Ness’ eyes, because he offered a sly smirk and lowered his voice as he continued.

“Tell you what: I’ll find a way to sneak you into the projection booth. That way, we can check it out together when the day comes.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?” Ness asked, jokingly clutching his mug in both hands and bringing it close to his heart.

“Sure. It’s really not too different from the customers smuggling their own snacks past the ticket desk,” Mason shrugged, though his mischievous demeanor briefly turned deadpan. “So long as you don’t play detective the entire time. My boss would rip me a new one if I just paused the movie every five minutes to let you brainstorm and talk.”

Ness scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It wouldn’t be every five minutes.”

Mason raised an eyebrow. “You’re right; it’d probably be every two minutes.” He forked up another bite of the waffles, firmly ignoring the offended waiter noises.

“Oh, and don’t try to guilt-trip me out of my food, either. I’ve already got one moocher to deal with.” Mason scratched Checkers’ ears, to which she responded via tilting her head to the side, an undeniable trace of smugness in the warmth of her amber eyes.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Ness pronounced, his voice dripping with much more sarcasm than usual, “but fine. I can work with that.”

“Uh-huh. You’d better,” Mason snorted, reaching over to shake hands with his friend as though the two of them were lawyers who’d just settled on some sleazy business arrangement.

Mason was a complex person. Everyone had issues, and he was no exception to that. Not like he was at all open about said issues, but once you got to know him, you’d start to see them. (Plus, that just seemed a lot nicer than describing him as a swarm of issues shaped like a man.) He was the type to constantly shift in his seat, to give most people the side-eye, to get lost in his thoughts and grimace at nothing until he snapped himself out of it.

At least he seemed content working at the theater. Even with the spark of horror that never seemed to leave his eyes, Mason was clearly a creative bastard. Sometimes he’d bring notebooks in and take breaks from his meal to fill their pages with paragraphs or sketches. He really did seem to have the potential for acting, maybe even directing. If his critiques and commentary on the movies he had to watch from the projection booth were anything to go by, then the projects he could possibly work on would be nothing short of awesome.

He’d actually been one of Freddy’s past security guards. Ironically enough, he and Ness hadn’t met there. Not that Ness minded, since A. if that’d been the case, there probably would’ve been way more confused screaming than there usually was at Sparky’s, and B. considering the fact that Mason’s employment had apparently lasted a whopping one singular night. . .

Ness still didn’t know the full story, and he could tell pressing Mason for info wouldn’t end well. But with the few snippets Jack had carefully enlightened him with. . .well—

Speak of the devil.

The front door’s bell only had about half a second to chime yet again, almost drowned out by rapid footsteps.

“You’re late,” Ness jokingly chastised as he caught dark brown skin and black hair in his peripheral vision. He shifted in his chair, moving his legs to make some room under the table as another one of his regular-friends hurried over to claim Booth Five’s empty seat.

“Yeah, yeah. Sue me,” Jack retorted, instantly propping his elbows on the table to knead at his forehead. It took a few long seconds for him to notice how one of his favorite dishes had apparently been waiting for him. He squinted at the food, then at Ness. “. . .I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to make it tonight?”

“And yet, here you are,” Ness replied, the definition of coy with how his shoulders popped up and down again.

Jack might’ve wanted to ask more questions, but Mason cut him off. “Look, I don’t get it either. He doesn’t know, but he just knows.”

Jack considered this, then tilted his head to convey the type of acceptance that only came when you couldn’t really question things that probably should be questioned because you already had too many things to focus on.

“Thanks, dude,” he murmured, nodding to Ness as he plucked one of the mozzarella sticks from his plate.

Ness nodded back, taking a few more gulps of coffee. “No problem.”

Jack paused mid-bite, eyes darting over to the brew that’d been poured for him. He scrutinized it, then raised the mug up and started chugging like a champ.

The display made Ness glad that he’d taken the time to experiment with coffee so long ago. There was no doubting how he could now calculate exactly how much time it took for coffee to go cold. Yeah, this particular serving had been fresh out of the pot a few minutes ago, but by now it had to be at optimal temperature. Neither scalding nor tepid: just nice and warm.

After about a moment, Jack pulled the now empty mug away from his face, taking a deep breath as he set it back down on the table.

“Rough day?” Ness inquired, specific parts of his brain starting to tick.

Something seemed off.

It wasn’t like he had any room to talk about slight bean juice addictions. And he certainly couldn’t blame Jack for a dependency (especially since he’d even shown some undeniable intrigue at Ness’ argument that coffee was a type of soup). Sure, Jack wasn’t narcoleptic, but when a day-and-night operating cabbie didn’t have access to some perks, things just wouldn’t go well for him or his passengers.

But whenever Jack popped in for a bite and a chat, it was easy to assume that he’d be heading home and going to bed right after his meal. Right now, however, his demeanor was anything but tired. His shoulders were rigid. His eyes were more or less threatening to pop right out of their sockets. In fact, he almost seemed to be weighing the options of never sleeping again.

Jack chewed his lip as he glanced in the waiter’s direction. He slowly nodded. “. . .You could say that.”

Ness exchanged glances with Mason, who had obviously seen the signs for himself. As did Checkers, since she quietly maneuvered around Ness’ chair to rest her head on Jack’s lap, peering up at him with an almost human-like air of understanding. Jack didn’t hesitate to pet the shiny fur along the dog’s neck, to which her tail started wagging but she otherwise remained still.

“What happened?” Mason asked, sitting up a little straighter. “If the vibes you’re giving off got her attention, then it must be something serious.”

Jack grimaced, closing his eyes with what seemed to be more force than necessary, taking a few long seconds to rub at their lids.

“Did you see any rabbit-shaped things out by the dumpster? I think they only come around once a month or so, but I always feel strange if I look at them.” The words glided out of Ness’ mouth and into the air before he could think.

Self-induced humiliation wrapped its awful, clammy hands around his ribcage as two confused glances were aimed in his direction.

“. . .What?” Jack and Mason blurted in near-perfect unison.

“What?” Ness echoed, blinking as his voice instantaneously grew a smidge louder than before. He rushed to plaster his typical, happy-go-lucky demeanor back onto his face, hoping that pretending he hadn’t spoken at all would convince his friends that he actually hadn’t.

Not only did his latest sentence sound weird as all hell, but it’d also been downplayed as all hell. Because when Ness had said strange, what he’d really meant was the pounding, churning, pummeling agony that should only ever be present in your stomach after you’ve accidentally swallowed a few dozen live rats that just so happen to be whacked out on cocaine for whatever godforsaken reason.

And while he wasn’t a perfect angel, Ness would never wish that particular pain on anyone else. So, the fewer people who knew about the floppy-eared cryptids (which Ness could’ve sworn looked like they’d been covered in mucus) that were apparently engrossed in gang warfare with the local raccoons, the better.

“Ah, did you get a bad passenger today?” Ness coughed. Jack had to deal with as many entitled idiots as Ness, if not even more. Hell, taking turns venting about that stuff was something they’d initially bonded over.

He peered through the window next to the booth—Jack’s cab was parked close enough to see that there wasn’t anything to indicate an accident. Not a life-threateningly serious one, at least.

“Not exactly,” Jack replied, following his gaze. Where Ness’ eyes were curious, Jack’s were currently anxious and mistrusting. That was another red flag: Jack may not have treated his taxi like it was his baby, but he still took pretty good care of it. “Just a few more weirdos.”

Mason hummed, tilting his head. “How weird specifically?” He’d heard plenty of Jack’s tales from the road; as he called on Jack for rides somewhat often, he’d even ended up being part of those tales.

Jack knitted his brows, fidgeted in place. “You don't want to know."

“. . .Then why did you make it sound so damn vague?” Mason retorted, now dripping with incredulousness. “The less specific details are, then the more they’re gonna nag at someone’s brain.”

“He’s got a point,” Ness agreed, lightly tapping Fabio’s pencil against his mug.

“Like that’s my fault,” Jack snorted. “Most people wouldn’t believe me if I told them.”

Ness offered an encouraging smile. “Good thing we’re not most people, then.”

Mason nodded. “Damn right. C’mon, Jack; are you really saying something could top the crackhead I had to share the backseat with last month?”

“Yes, I am,” Jack whisper-shouted through gritted teeth, “because it was a bear!”

Silence (save for the soft click-clack of keyboards from the corner of the diner, that is).

Jack pursed his lips, looking equal parts exasperated and worried. He sighed yet again, reaching up to press his fingers against his temples.

“. . .What kind of bear was it?” Ness eventually tried.

Mason, who’d previously been squinting while his mouth opened and closed with no words coming out, turned his head to face Ness with such speed and force that he might’ve actually given himself whiplash. “That’s the first thing you focus on?!”

Ness made a shaky lame gesture. “It’s a fair question! What’re you focusing on?” (He wasn’t wrong. There was a lot of variety among bears, after all. And a bear that lived in the woods and had huge claws and could outeat, outrun, outswim, and probably even outdrink the average person would be a lot more to handle than one of the bears that had attended the latest local Pride parade.)

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you,” Mason declared, returning his attention to Jack, “look significantly less mauled than most people who get close to bears! Seriously, how is your face still connected to your skull?!”

“I didn’t mea—!” Jack was about to go on the defensive, but stopped short. “What, were you expecting me to get ripped to shreds tonight? So damn sorry if I didn’t get the memo!”

“No! Of course not!” Mason contended. “Look, you can’t just say you had a run-in with a bear and leave it at that!”

Jack threw his hands up. “Well, I told you you didn’t want to know!”

“How the hell can we not NEED to know now?” Ness pointed out. Though he was growing just as confused as Mason, he tried to keep his voice even.

Jack gave him an exhausted look before craning his neck to rest his head against the booth’s seat, staring at the ceiling.

“It was a huge robot,” he finally clarified. “Looked like it’d been at the bottom of a scrap heap for years; I’d guess it was older than my dad. But its eye glowed blue like the machines inside it were still working. It made the car shake—I’m honestly surprised the back tires never gave out. And God damn, the smell. . .rust and blood and mucus, I swear!”

Now it was Mason’s turn to go rigid. A tidal wave of emotion seemed to sweep through his features; first surprise, then recognition, and then dread. He placed a hand on the nearest corner of the table as if to steady himself.

“It was wearing a black top hat and bowtie, wasn’t it?” He murmured. It sounded much more like a statement than a question, and the way his tone had become so hollow didn’t help.

Jack lowered his head, clearly unsure whether or not to make eye-contact as he nodded.

“Sounds like the way Freddy was designed. . .” Ness mused without quite meaning to.

Memories of the huge sign that had been built to loom over the old pizzeria’s front entrance flooded into his head. The blinking lights that bordered the establishment’s title and seemed to chase each other around and around and around. The life-sized cutout of the one and only Freddy Fazbear himself, using one paw to adjust his bowtie and the other to wave, seemingly beckoning customers to wander inside.

Those memories dissolved as Ness winced and glanced back at Mason, who was now reaching up with a shaking hand to grasp at his hoodie’s collar, tugging it to cover up the top of an old, deep scar that dragged along the skin of his neck. Ness shuffled in his seat, trying not to stare at how quickly the color drained from his friend’s face.

Checkers was back by Mason’s side in an instant, bracing her paws against the seat as she licked at his face. Mason blinked, a huge shudder rippling through his chest as he hugged his pet.

A few minutes dragged by, feeling like an hour apiece and jeering at the trio as they went.

“So.” Mason finally announced, still keeping his gentle-yet-obviously-desperate hold on Checkers. “Let me get this straight: that. . .that thing got into your cab like it paid rent just a few hours ago?”

Jack pursed his lips, nodding again. “There was a kid with it, too. A little girl. She didn’t even seem scared at all. The whole ride, she was smiling and hugging the bear’s arm—”

“Wait, you actually drove it somewhere?!” Mason demanded.

Jack sputtered. “What other choice did I have?!”

“I mean, that’s kind of literally his job,” Ness mentioned.

True, he was grappling with the fact that he and his friends had apparently been transported into some cheap bizzarofiction novel. And yet, somehow, this wasn’t even the craziest story that’d been relayed to him from a customer. He peered down at Fabio as though it was about to start contributing to this conversation. “Where did you take them?”

Jack raised an eyebrow at Ness (which he guessed couldn’t be helped. Ness already had an idea, but it was rude to just assume, wasn’t it?). “Where else? That old pizza joint you’ve been trying to write an encyclopedia on.”

Mason was about to say something else, but stopped short in favor of turning his shock toward Ness.

Ness raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “Look, I know you don’t like that place, but just remember that I don’t question what you do with your free-time.”

“That’s right. And even if you did, you wouldn’t have to, because I don’t spend my free-time poking around the fourth Circle of Hell!” Mason snarked.

“I won’t lie and say it’s not creepy,” Ness admitted, unable to stop a chill from racing down his spine at the memory of the restaurant’s grimy wall posters, the draft that always seemed to be in the air over there, the disturbingly sour tang of what he’d hoped was just ancient pizza sauce, “but that still seems pretty harsh.”

Mason gawked, fragments of words leaking through his teeth.

“If we’re looking at the bigger picture,” Jack coughed, probably attempting to steer Mason away from a potential stroke, “then nothing really happened tonight. The bear didn’t even make a peep the whole time. I didn’t get hurt, and that girl didn’t get hurt. She even left a handful of change when we got to the restaurant.”

Ness squinted and tilted his head at that. As far as he knew, the rules Jack applied to his cab were pretty lax and basic, but he’d always been firm on never taking money from lone child passengers.

Then again, if the child passenger in question was traveling with a huge robotic animal that apparently had enough sentience to use a taxi in the first place, it was probably best to just go along with whatever happened and leave the sanity-questioning session for later.

Jack fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. “. . .That actually wasn’t even the worst part of tonight’s shift.”

Mason leaned back against the leather seat, looking very much lightheaded. His eyes bulged from their sockets as he furiously motioned for his friend to elaborate.

Jack hesitated before explaining, “Well, once the girl and the bear were out, I decided to just call it a day. After I got far enough away from the pizzeria, I parked by one of the downtown curbs and switched the car’s sign to Off Duty. I was trying to get a catnap in—”

“It’s a miracle you could even try to sleep after that damn bear basically held you hostage,” Mason interjected.

“—when someone knocked on the window. I told ‘em to read the sign and come find me later, but they opened up the door and got in anyway. So, I was about to kick them out and. . .” Jack trailed off, shaking his shoulders as though a few dozen cockroaches had spontaneously taken up nest in his jacket.

“And. . .?” Ness echoed, the curiosity-concern cocktail in his mind getting stronger.

“And there was some tiny doll in my passenger seat,” Jack concluded. “Looked creepy as hell.”

Ness hummed in consideration. “Sounds like it could just be a weird prank? The teens in that area are always following strange trends.”

Jack nervously shook his head. “I couldn’t see anyone outside the cab. It only took a few seconds for me to look; there’s no way anyone could move fast enough to hide after they put the doll in.”

“A tiny doll. . ?” Mason’s brow furrowed in thought for a couple seconds, then promptly returned to its collision course for Mars. He leaned over the table. “Did it have bug-eyes and buck teeth? Was it wearing one of those stupid propeller hats and holding a red-and-yellow striped balloon?”

Jack’s face contorted in confusion as he nodded. “. . .That pretty much sums it up.”

Though his expression was still grim, Mason’s fear quickly metamorphosed into some good ol’ fashioned aggravation. “That’s the bastard,” he seethed, knuckles turning white.

Jack blinked, perplexity slowly overtaking his latest case of heebie-jeebies. “Wait, you’ve seen that thing before?”

“I have, unfortunately.” Mason grimaced. An odd type of adrenaline etched its way across his face. “Is it still in the cab?”

Jack nodded again. “I didn’t want to risk touching it.”The words were barely out of his mouth when Mason rose from the booth and stalked outside through Sparky’s front entrance. Checkers trotted after him, the tiredness of an actual nurse flickering in her eyes.

Ness and Jack basically had frontrow seats to observe their friend approaching Jack’s cab, ripping the passenger-side door open and fishing something out before slamming it closed again.

With that, Mason raced to the edge of the parking lot and proceeded to dropkick what had to be the mysterious balloon-toting doll out of sight.

Despite his shock, part of Ness still felt relieved that Mason hadn’t simply deposited it into the dumpster. Just in case those awful rabbit-looking things happened to be paying a visit tonight. . .

@sammys-magical-au @that-bat @th3w00ds @bee-the-matpat-simp @touyubesposts @crazy-obsessed-enby @i-used-to-wear-the-fedora @holyawesomestitches @s-e-v-e-n-24 @sotogalmo @ciphershadow @deethedustyassdumbass @theechoingmadness @its-a-goddamn-ass-race @zam-witch @box-goat @redd-byrd @icantmakeupagoodname @pleasedontmind-the-emerald @transparentghosty @vegaslvrr @itzqueers-blog @wannabeavocaloidmystery @shivr0ygf @ciara-clycone @not-made-of-actual-rye @m0on-shro0m @imafruitbowl @azure-trash @il0v3mus1cals @v1r-x @kafkaisnotdead @junaslagoon @alicethemenace @ilovenikkisixx @m00nlight-mexican @w0rd3855 @head-without-a-fucking-brain. @unkn0wn-nys @not-made-of-actual-rye @101k-t101 @theonlykala @dividel @riff-is-on-a-fucking-crisis @roselily2006 @max-afton @abe-the-detective-blog @floating-above-sea-level @madhare051

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mudhamster · 5 months

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CHWHWN: 13. December - "quirk analysis"

Kacchan: Deku deku deku *image attached* You still think you can tell me things about myself that I don't know Deku: That's a fact I guess everyone you ask could tell you something about yourself that you don't know yet Or don't want to realize Or want to hear Which is why you don't ask anyone Which brings us back to the beginning Anyway It doesn't have to be about you Kacchan: It's always about me. You write books (plural!!)about me Deku: I write books about everyone Kacchan: and yet, there are more than 2 about me Deku: how do you know that Kacchan: I've been in your room Deku: Less than 20min ⊙︿⊙ Kacchan: Didn't even need 2 to figure that out … Do you have a book about yourself? Deku: More than 2... I've about one book for every 2 quirks Kacchan: Or 2 books for one Quirk ghehe Deku: oh my god Kacchan, yes, you're so so SO special :D Why did you ask Kacchan: I want to see your notes about yourself. Deku: Seriously? There are much more interesting ones, though? Kacchan: My note, my will Your room or mine? Deku: mine...?

And although Izuku had thought a lot in the few minutes that had passed before Katsuki knocked, he had never expected how smoothly the other would step over the threshold into his nerdy safe space. He found his usual place by the bed, just like the last time, and waited, almost without looking annoyed, until Izuku wordlessly handed him what he wanted to read. The notebook. This, and then… a lot more. Minutes passed unnoticed, then hours, and finally, with a half-hearted glance at his alarm clock, he realized that they had already been sitting there longer than it would have been possible on any other day, like the movie night. Countless notebooks around them, open and filled to the brim with sticky notes. Izuku didn't even notice when Katsuki grabbed the notebooks about himself and his explosions from the shelf. They talked and talked and laughed and talked some more and then they compared their achievements, added the notebook about Shouto to their comparison scale and suddenly it was way past midnight - and Izuku couldn't believe it when he briefly checked the time with the first pangs of real tiredness. "Wow," he breathed, eyes glued to the clock, "if we had watched a movie last Wednesday, we would have finished much earlier than today." "Yeah, it escalated a bit." "Things always escalate with you. It comes with friendship." Kacchan takes a breath, looks at him, then nods.

"Right." And suddenly the question crossed his mind, as it had a thousand times that day: Had Kacchan already drawn 'the hug'? And as always, he couldn't stop himself and asked what he had to ask: "Do you want to do… ugh……. one of the other two notes? Maybe?" Because… if it was the hug… then today would be a good day for it, wouldn't it? But Katsuki just took a quick peek at his bed and Izuku's guts took the bottomless elevator down to the basement. WHAT. Why… the look at the bed???!!!????? "Not today." WHAT?!!!? Izuku became metaphorically deaf as the voice in his head screeched out all the questions at the highest frequency possible. Just a welding seam would have closed his mouth tighter than it already was. He couldn't say a word as he watched Kacchan carefully piling up the notebooks and then searching for his cell phone. Right, they had been talking so much that they hadn't had a phone in their hands for more than four hours. But of course, Izuku knew where it was. "I plugged it in earlier, … it's on my nightstand." …. next to a picture of them - Katsuki and Izuku - and suddenly he realized that Kacchan would see the picture. It was turned, not visible from any other angle in the room. But would he sit down on his bed, close enough to the pillow to unplug his phone ---- "WAIT, wait I'll get - Kacchan -!!" But … the mobile was already in his hand. And to Izuku's world-ending shock, the picture as well. He wanted to faint. On the spot. Suddenly, he felt naked, as if he had been put in the stocks, stripped and splashed with cold water. Was it too much? Was it too obvious? Did Kacchan know from the picture that he had more in mind than the platonic deepening of their friendship? Crap. CRAP. But with each passing day, they were getting closer to the end anyway. The end that would decide whether Kacchan and Deku would be one step closer to being MORE than friends next year, or whether they would be nothing at all. In the long run, it was inevitable. In those 10 seconds that Izuku had a severe pre-crisis, Kacchan had put the picture back and grabbed his backpack. As if he hadn't seen anything. As if such a picture, kept almost secret, was something normal. Not worth mentioning. "See you tomorrow, nerd," he said. So casually, so banally, nudging Izuku's shoulder, who almost had an out-of-body experience by the touch. And then the door closed and Izuku's eyes almost popped out as he stared like crazy from the door to the picture and back to the door. What - the - flip.

#bkdk #mha #bakudeku #izuku midoriya #boku no hero academia #chwhwn #deku #fanfiction #fluff #kacchan #christmas calendar #katsuki bakugou #katsudeku #chatfic #ao3 fanfic

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march2nd · 5 months

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STORM IS BREWING

FORGET ME (not) m.list next

chapter I - storm is brewing

please note that I do not follow canon in this one , basically i have read the hunger games series a long time ago, and i can't read it again bc reading finnick's death scene pains me (that's why I am writing this ff, to give him a deserved happy ending). also english is not my first language!

tw: canon typical violence, mentions of psychological distress, allusions to prostitution , reader is still a minor in this chapter!

word count: 1762

You think that all the odds are now against you. With your sister Diana missing since yesterday you are not feeling confident anymore. Maybe you were too harsh, maybe she is being too stubborn. You two were never too close, with your conflicting personalities. Even though Diana was the older one you could not fathom how did she manage to live her unrealistic dreams of freedom. Deep down you know her doings could only bring doom for your family. In your eyes she is too detached from the realisty and in her eyes you are too pragmatic.

Right now you are getting ready for the reaping. You have to keep reminding yourself that the chances of being chosen are extremely low. You personally know people who's name has been put more than forty times. This gives you hope because someone has ten more chances of being pulled over you. You know that you would have not survived in that area, you are not a born killer. When your father was alive he took you and Diana to train from time to time. He was a wise man, as he thought that those are skills that you could need at any time. Unfortunately for you, it was a few year ago when he was more often at home than not and you did not pay much attention to it as you considered that stupid at that time, as your names were not even once put on the list. You can make a fire and recognize most of the plants that are growing in your district. Your father even managed to smuggle an encyclopedia containing pictures of other, less common ones. Even thought the book is yellow from old age and some pages are missing it is still your favorite thing. Elena once took it and after briefly skimming through memorized all the plants and its names. It deeply amazes you, how her brain works.

During the illegal training with your father Diana turned out to be very skilled in terms of combat. You would fight with her using toy knifes that you would both create from wood. You enjoyed the creating part more than the actual fight. In your life you had never won with Diana. Your father said you had to train until you win with your own sister. It used to deeply upset you and created an unnecessary rivalry until you found a way to trick her once. You were sick of tired of always loosing. Your sister at that age was a lot taller than you and had some muscle definition as she wasn't stuffing herself with candy as you did. You came to your usual spot with a wire in hand and wired the area around you. You memorized when the wire was, even thought the ground was covered in leaves and was nearly impossible to spot it. When it came to your usual fight instead of giving it your all at first you thrusted in the air few times, missing her on purpose. You could see it in her eyes, the fire rising as she realized that another victory was ahead of her. You opened your [e/c] eyes wide, faking being surprised. You turned on your feet and started running, hoping just over the wire. Your sister missed that, as she was sprinting to you, wanting to have it over already. That's when she tripped and fell. You felt bad for a millisecond until you sat on her back and held the knife over her exposed neck as a sign of having the upper hand. "Now I win" you said, not trying to hide your growing smile. Finally. You looked at your father for approval and could see a shine in his eyes in a moment. He gave you a knowing look. You felt so happy, being validated by your own father as he was usually frowning at you, giving you dissatisfied looks. On the other hand, Diana was furious. She accused you of being a dirty little cheater 'it is a knife fight, its point is not to create the most barbaric looking trap ever' she commented. As a consequence she wasn't talking to you for some days after, but after that when she realized that you two didn't have to wake up early anymore to train she seemed grateful and your relationship went back to normal. That meant occasional bickering and some fights but nothing major. It all changed after the death of your father. She and Stella got so much closer and you started to take more care and pay more attention to Elena. You used to envy their relationship, as they were like best friend in your eyes. And Elena, could never understand you just like you couldn't understand her and her episodes. What didn't help was the fact that she was still a little kid when you were in the middle of puberty. Now Stella seems to not be found of Diana, and is orbiting closer to you and mom. You pitty your second sister as she seems to be so bitter inside and burn every bridge she has. You wish she was different or at least more accepting.

As you are getting ready Stella comes to your and Elena's room. She is holding a small parcel. "For you," she unpacks it in front of you, "I figured you would like to look pretty for your first real reaping."She smiles, but it does not reach her eyes. It is in fact, a beautiful dress. It is bright orange, reaching your knees, with puff sleeves. It will make you look like a princess but at the same time not because of the color that is not that far away from red - color associated with blood. All the new clothes you got right now are from your sisters, that outgrew them already. Most of the clothes were sold at the market, bringing joy for whoever got them. Unfortunately for Stella, she kept some of her dresses to look more appealing for richer men.

"I will save you," you think while making your lips into thin line. "You don't like it?" Stella questions you with disappointment in her eyes. "No, I just thought I would never look as beautiful as you in that dress." You lie as not to upset her. She thinks you are speaking nonsense and reassures you that you have only turned seventeen recently and that you shouldn't compare yourself with a grown woman. She is telling the truth, but as for now you don't care. For now you are not an object of desire and don't have to consider the same line of job as she does. This brings relief to you.

You dress yourself as Stella styles your hair. You notice her nails are colored a nice color that matches her [e/c] eyes. You tell her that and she blushes. You realize she does not want to share the nail polish with you or anyone. She bought it for her own saved money, from the job she hates, to make herself feel more beautiful. You understand it but you are sure that if you were her you would share it with your sisters. It is the small things that matter. After some time you look at herself in the mirror. Stella remarks that you look just like her when she was younger. It might be true as you look at yourself - your hair, now braided exposes your face that you normally hide under all the hair you let loose. She playfully pinches your cheeks. "Not so chubby anymore, huh?" she says with a hint of sadness in her voice. After everything you couldn't allow to buy your beloved sweets anymore. This is not just a symbol of change in appearance but also fall in status. "When you grow up you will be the most beautiful girl here," she says and kisses your forehead. Your sister is extremely nice to you, but there is something that you both know. Beauty can be considered a curse around here, as it endangers women to certain line of work.

However, if you manage to secure your dream job in the Capital everything will change, you won't stop by just helping women in your family, but if you are able to other young girls who are forced to make a choice how to earn for living. You smile and hug your sister. You wish you could do the same with Diana and Elena, but Diana is nowhere to be found and Elena hates when anybody touches her.

You and your family of four go to the central square. District 3 is one of the most populated districts. As a result there are a lot of children and teenagers who are eligible for the reaping. Your mother stays in the back with Elena who is disinterested seems to be counting the cobblestones. Knowing her, she is trying to estimate how many stones were used in building this place and how long did it take to polish everything off. There is also a privileged group far in the back which you used to be a part of that does not take part in it at all. They are just there to watch who is being chosen to die a miserable death. Stella walks with you to get your blood taken and then to your sector with other seventeen year olds. She reminds you to take deep breaths. Other teenagers look at you like the odd one out, having to be accompanied by an older sister, but truth be told you are shaking and nothing you say to calm yourself down helps. The short propaganda film starts playing and you bring yourself to focus on what's before you.

In Districts like yours, where there are much more people than in the outer ones instead of using paper cards for dramatic effect they use the computer to chose, as the bowls containing the names would have to be comically big. The machine starts as the escort clicks the button. The names that are chosen are only known to her eyes.

You hear your last name being called. "[L/n]?" She makes a pause "[L/n]?" You think that it is impossible, Elena's name is not there even once and Diana and Stella are both over eighteen already. You feel like fainting. It is you, you are the tribute from District 3.

NOTES:

devil works hard but i work harder, 2 chapters in one day!

#finnick x reader #finnick odair #forget me not #xreader #the hunger games #angst #fluff

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