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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

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Bittersweet 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your startup business catches the eye of a powerful rival.

Character: Loki Laufeyson

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

“So, the Green Bundle includes a Match truffle, chocolate mint smoothies, and green tea infused fudge,” you explain to the trio of women across from you. “The deluxe includes peppermint cocoa as well and comes in a this mug.”

You present one of the few kits you have left in your inventory. As big a deal as getting a stall at the event was, you hadn’t expected the crowd. You’re overwhelmed, especially realising you’re the only stand with only a single body.

“That’s so cute,” the taller brunette remarks, “what about the Pink kit? It says strawberry and creme?”

“Ah, yes, that one sold out rather quickly today. I can offer a voucher for my online boutique or I can sell you a sampler box? It has the strawberry and creme as well as my more popular flavours.”

“Do you do this all yourself?” The curly blonde asks as she eyes the chocolate dipped cherries.

Another body crowds in, a tall men bending to peruse your hand-painted sign listing all your bundles and boxes. He pays you little mind as he eyes cling to the letters and he reaches to pluck up one of your cards. You return your attention to the blonde.

“Yes, they’re all hand-crafted. The mugs as well but I don’t do those. I’ve a friend who makes those.”

“The packaging is so pretty,” the first preens, “can I have a sampler then?”

“Sure,” you answer, “I do the packaging as well. All the stickers, the bows I tie myself, and I decorate each box.”

“Wow, that’s so cool,” the middle on remarks, “I’ll have a sampler as well and the green bundle.”

“Sampler for me,” the third agrees.

You go through the same process with each. You grab the product, put it in a bag, seal it with a sticker, and ring them through with a tap of their card. They all seem excited for their purchase and it’s contagious. It’s been a hectic day but you’re running low and you don’t think you’ll make it through to closing. Still, it’s good advertising.

“Green tea fudge?” The tall man slithers towards the center of your counter, “an unusual combination.”

“Yes, that one took a lot of experimenting.”

“Mmm,” he still has your card in hand, bending it slightly as he flicks it with his thumb, “the red bundle. Cherry, red velvet, and...” he leans back to check the sign, “cayenne. Interesting.”

“I try to make sure there’s variety in each,” you explain.

“Yes, so it seems. I’ll take a red then.”

“Sorry, sir, um, I’ve sold out of most. I still have the yellow, the black, and the green--”

“Sold out?” He raises his wrist to give an emphatic glance at his watch, “either you’re very popular or ill-prepared.”

You’re surprised by the accusation. He’s rather blunt. You’ve dealt with many different types today but they’ve all been relatively pleasant, after all, it’s hard to be in a bad mood at a Baking Show.

“Fair, I wasn’t expecting so many buyers, sir. But you have my card, you’ll see my online boutique is listed--”

“But I want to buy now,” he says as he tilts his head, dark brows rising just slightly.

“I understand, I apologise for the inconvenience, but I just don’t have the red on-hand. I do have a sampler here--” You grab one of the variety boxes, “it would have the cayenne and the cherry.”

“Do you think a one-person operation like this is sustainable?” He inquires sharply.

You wince and shake your head, “sir? I’ve only just started. I’m sure with growth I’ll have to adjust.”

“And do you have a business plan or is this some Etsy venture with no goals?”

You nearly choke. You don’t know what you’ve done to offend him.

“Well, sir, if you don’t want to buy, I do have free samples available. I don’t have any of the red flavours but I do have some banana peanut butter and salted caramel apple--”

“I didn’t ask about samples,” he insists, “I’m asking about your business plan.”

You bat your lashes and look around. Has he come to this event just to interrogate people over their bottom line?

“I suppose it’s something I will have to review after today,” you contend.

“I’d say,” he tucks your card into his jacket pocket, his hand lingering within as he pulls out a leather wallet, “if you have any questions...”

He slides a card free and offers it. You take it hesitantly and read the gold font on matte black cardstock. Black Snake Chocolatier. You run your fingers over the embossed lettering and narrow your eyes. You peer over at the large banner over that business’ booth. He must be from over there but he’s not exactly dressed for the work. His suit is pressed and stainless.

“I did sponsor that one,” he pulls your attention back, “but I’ve come down to take measure of my competition and possible... acquisitions.”

You nod slowly as you meet his green eyes. Is this intimidation?

“Loki Laufeyson,” he offers his hand as a glint of silver in his hair catches the light, “might I have your name?”

You trade your name and a handshake. He squeezes enough for you to wince. He lets go and you slip his card in you apron pocket with all the others collected from your fellow vendors.

“I’ll certainly take a sampler,” he says, “see if this little venture has any teeth.”

His every word is like a bite. He speaks with the fangs of the very logo of his business. You put his purchase into your phone and offer the square for him to tap his payment. He processes it and swipes up the box before you can package it.

“Do you want a bag?” You ask.

“I can handle it,” he tucks the box under his arm. “Best of luck to you doing the same.”

He glances around and slowly moves aside as a group of new customers set in. A family of five with three hollering children with grabby hands. Your eyes widen as you smile at them as best you can. This day has truly tested your social battery.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #drabble #au #sweet and spicy #bittersweet #series #mcu #marvel #thor

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cowpokeomens · 8 months

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helloooo ~

could you please do a casual outing date with noah sebastian? anything from a simple lunch to some shopping just super fluffy and cute thank uuuu

Ask and ye shall receive! This is loosely based off of an experience I had a few weeks ago (The entranced window-gazing, not the almost-sugar daddy part, RIP me ig) Enjoy!

You had a long week. It seemed like your higher-ups gotten more demanding with each passing day. As if going to a shitty job wasn’t hard enough on its own, Noah was home from tour, too. You could drag yourself to work with the promise of a venti triple shot drink from Starbucks most days, but with his sleeping form next you in bed- warm, tattooed skin on display- the feat of getting up became nearly impossible. When the weekend finally rolled around, you embraced it with open arms, sleeping in until 11AM on Saturday.

You awoke to the smell of coffee, stretching your arms and padding your way into the kitchen. You found Noah there, sweatpants slung low on his hips, swiping on his phone while music played softly from the TV in the living room. He glanced up upon your arrival.

“Well good morning, gorgeous. I was starting to wonder where I was going to hide your body.” He flashed you a lopsided grin.

You returned the smile, going over to where the coffee pot was still set to warm. “You couldn’t get rid of me that easily, Sebastian. I’d haunt your ass.”

“Oh no! I hope the scary, sexy ghost doesn’t watch me in the shower!” Noah mock-cried, waving his hands in the air for effect. You giggled at his antics, adding creamer to your coffee as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, placing a kiss on your shoulder. “What’re we doing today, buttercup?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Well, I need a new pair of shoes for work, supportive sole type shit-”

“Nope.” You were cut off by the man behind you. “No boring work shit today. We’re having fun.”

“Fun?” You echoed, turning just enough to waggle your eyebrows at him.

He rolled his eyes, snorting at you. “Not that kind of fun, you freak. Good, wholesome, Christian fun.”

“Ooh, are we gonna make out on the bus on the way to church camp?” You mocked him.

“I cannot stand you. Have I said that before? Because I can’t.” His actions betrayed his words as he leaned in to kiss you on the cheek, then the top of your head, then your shoulder again.

“Then what is your definition of ‘good, wholesome, Christian fun,’ Sebastian?” You turned to face him fully, sipping from your mug.

“I was thinking retail therapy. We could go to that shopping center you like so much, with the paper store that has all the tape and stuff.” He puffed his chest proudly for remembering it.

“The stationary store.” You pondered aloud. “I could get stickers.”

He nodded eagerly. “I’ll buy you so many fucking stickers, baby.”

You grinned up at him. “I’m sold. Let me brush my teeth and find udnerwear-”

“-Hey, no pressure from me-”

It was your turn to roll your eyes at him. “-And then we can head out.”

_________________________________________

A few hours later you found yourself in a shopping center somewhere in the northern section of your city. It was more of an outdoor mall, but you really only preferred a small corner of the sprawl.

Noah walked beside you cheerfully, hand tightly clasped in yours. His other hand held a cute, pastel blue bag from the stationary store, where you had racked up quite the tab. Before you could get your card out, though, Noah was tapping his own against the machine.

“You didn’t have to do that, babe.” You pouted, feeling guilty.

He shrugged. “I’ve got that ‘Rockstar Boyfriend’ money now, baby, I can buy you stickers.”

You snorted at him. “Glad to hear that Jolly has been filing you guys’ taxes correctly.”

“Hey, I help, too.” He protested.

“Mhm, no one can work the espresso machine for him quite like you, dear.” You mollified him.

“I can’t believe I’m being treated this way, I have an ‘Alternative Press’ cover, y’know-”

He got quiet when he noticed you had stopped walking. He glanced at you, concerned, then followed your line of sight.

You were gazing, open-mouthed, into the window of a purse store. You didn’t actually know anything about luxury brands- much less designer handbags- but you could recognize art when you saw it.

It was black, probably genuine leather. A cross-body bag, pleasantly spacious without being large. Its silver rivets glinted at you in the midday sun, enticing you with their gleam. A thick, silver chain decorated the top, contrasting sharply with the clean cut of the long black handle.

“What?” He asked at last.

“Sorry.” You responded absently, still not looking away.

He huffed a laugh. “Do you want to go inside?”

“No.” Came your immediate response.

“Babe, I know that look. That’s how you looked at me the first day I got back from tour. Now, I’m not so insecure as a man to let a purse threaten me, but if you start talking dirty to it-”

“Shut up, Noah.” You finally broke your stare to turn to him, giggling. “It’s just pretty is all.”

“‘Pretty?’” He repeated.

You nodded earnestly, already beginning to walk away.

“Well hey, if it’s so ‘pretty,’ let’s go inside and get a closer look.” He tugged on your joined hands.

You grimaced, lowering your voice. “Baby, it’s probably like, a gajillion dollars-”

“Oh, I hope so. I just so happen to have a ‘Gajillion’ Monopoly dollar in my pocket. C’mon.” He tugged you once more, finally convincing you to follow.

The inside of the store was freakishly white. White walls, white display podiums, white chairs. Who the fuck comes in here to sit? You wondered to yourself. There, in the field of white, was your black sheep in all its glory. Noah released your hand as you glided over to it, sighing dreamily. You didn’t see anything saying you had to keep your hands to yourself, and you couldn’t resist the urge to touch it. A hand came up to run a single finger along the rivets, bumping up and down at their protrusion. You gripped the side experimentally, loving the squish of the leather. You had never been a bag person; You used the same backpack for the entirety of college, purchased for $20 at Walmart. You had other bags, mostly to carry things from point A to point B, but this was different. This was- what did the fashion bloggers call their clothes? A piece. This was a piece, not just a purse.

You were shaken out of your reverie by Noah walking over to you, peering at the bag curiously. “You ready?”

You let out a deep breath. It was absolutely a gajillion dollars, and you could not justify the expense. You turned to Noah, about to say an affirmative, when a new, large shopping bag caught your eye.

You recognized the brand emblazoned across the bag as the same one from the window. Your eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Noah, what did you do?”

His grin was devilish. “Relax. It was actually only half a gajillion dollars, quite the steal if you ask me.”

You could feel yourself panicking. “What? No! Go give it back!” Your whisper was frantic.

He was outwardly laughing at you now. “No.”

Your eyes widened further, incredulity coloring your tone. “No?”

He shook his head, leaning in close to you. “Nope.” Then, taking your hand in his, he happily walked back outside, ignoring the saleswoman’s call of “Come back again soon!”

You barely kept up with his long legs. “Noah, I do not need a gajillion dollar-”

“Half a gajillion, babe. Half.”

You huffed. “Whatever. I don’t need an expensive purse, it’s not fair for you to be spending that kind of money on me when I can’t repay it-”

“I can think of a few ways you could repay me.” He cut you off again with a wink.

“Noah.” You stopped walking. He could hear the change in your tone, stopping to turn to look at you. “I can’t- baby I really appreciate it but I can’t-”

“Hey.” He said softly, coming up to look into your eyes deeply. “Hey. This isn’t about owing me or anything. There’s no need for that between us.” You nodded, the movement small. “I see you busting your ass. I see you working hard. I can see that you’ve had a shitty couple of weeks. So if I have to go back and buy you all the gajillion dollar purses in that store, I will do it. If it will make you happy, I will personally see to it that you get every gajillion dollar purse manufactured on this continent.”

You couldn’t fight off the smile at his words, so sincere and sweet. He kissed your forehead for good measure, offering his hand out to you.

“If it makes you feel better, you can buy lunch. The lady in the store talked me into getting the matching quarter-gajillion dollar wallet, too.”

Your jaw dropped. “Noah Sebastian-”

#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fanfic

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tiny-merkitty · 2 months

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dad/caretaker matt murdock hcs ₊˚ʚ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

(read as platonic & familial only! i do not write for romantic pairings.)

ⓘ i do not consent to k!nk interaction! any nsfw account that likes, reblogs, or in any way interacts with this post or my blog will be blocked and reported.

the sweetest most attentive father figure ever

he can hear your heartbeat, the vague ways your breaths change, feel how sleepy and lethargic you get, he'll do everything he can to be helpful and caring when you need it!!!

don't feel like talking? that's okay, he can tell if what he's doing is helping without needing words.

he has to deal with alot of loud everywhere else anyway, whether that's in a tiny, packed office space or the entirety of manhattan — he's always welcome to unwind at home in silence.

he'd try to deduct anything that's making you uncomfortable without having to ask, he knows that constant interrogation can just make things more overwhelming.

you keep whimpering? your stomach is full, you seem to be warm enough— is his beard too scratchy? here, he'll move your head down to his chest.

he'd use alot of different nicknames, as well as just your actual name, but the ones that roll off the tongue most tend to be 'baby', 'sweetheart' & 'angel'

being mean towards his loved ones isn't in his vocabulary, if you've done something wrong there won't be anything more extreme than a gentle conversation — at worst, he uses his lawyer voice™, which consists of very, very, long spiels about how he's not mad! just a little disappointed!

he'd never take things away from you as a form of punishment though, he knows what it's like to grow up with sparse things in environments that weren't emotionally nurturing.

if anything, he is the biggest advocate for spoiling his kid — even if he won't admit it.

never in a grand way, but if you looked at a stuffed animal for three seconds too long in an aisle, it's finding it's way into the cart by check-out.

you like a certain brand of toaster waffles? what a coincidence, the fridge has five boxes!

if you make him anything at all, he is using it until it disintegrates.

you made him a bracelet? he's wearing it everywhere. including in the daredevil suit.

you drew something? he's sure it looks wonderful, whatever it is, he's already framing it in his office.

(yes this has something to do with a certain somebody abandoning him over a friendship bracelet as a child)

he likes having you physically close to him, the louder your heartbeat is in his ears, the more secure he can feel about your safety.

your warmth reminds him that you're okay, so he likes having you nearby, whether you're heads on his stomach or you're sitting somewhere three rooms over.

he's not a helicopter parent, per-se, but he has a tendency to be protective and worried —

he tries to be around at nighttime, even with the whole vigilante gig getting in the way sometimes, having you play doctor on his wounds makes him feel both guilty and comforted.

his favorite form of tylenol has a tiny heartbeat and hands that wrap around his fingers, after all.

bedtime stories aren't his favorite thing in the world, for obvious reasons, but if he's trying to get you to sleep, sometimes he'll practice his latest defenses until you nod off.

he assumes the legal talk knocks you out better than goodnight moon, anyway.

depending on the day, he's bringing you along to the office or church with him — the firm isn't very full during certain seasons, so he figures you can take a nap on the couch in his office or color over Foggy's paperwork.

Foggy's not the biggest fan of the latter —

the underneath of Matt's desk also makes a great fort— he'll pretend he can't hear you sticking stickers to the bottom or playing with his shoelaces.

on weekends, he'll take you by St. Agnes to sleep through morning mass, Sister Maggie usually has a hot chocolate ready for you in a special mug afterwards.

he's not one to force things like sunday school on you, but the church is a place he grew up and visits often, plus letting you see his mother makes him smile.

the two of you get donuts on the way home — or, you get donuts and Matt gets something overpriced and artisanal while he tries not to cringe at the overbearing scent of dyed sugar.

he's definitely a silly dad, holding you upside down by your ankles or slinging you over his shoulder while he cleans the apartment.

he draws out questions and asks silly things just to hear you giggle — "what?! you're four years old? are you sure? are you actually... five? no?"

overall, you're his kid and he loves you more than anything.

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porcelana-r0ta · 1 year

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The Curse of Sight, Part 3

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 4]

Summary: When Wes Weston meets Tim Drake-Wayne, the dots start connecting. And those dots form a Bat.

Ao3 Link (available only to Ao3 members)

When Wes gets home that night, he cuts off the part of Tim’s note with his name. His contact information has already been added to his phone, so he tears that part of the note up and then trashes it. The part containing his signature, Wes dumps into an envelope and scribbles out a note on a different sheet of paper:

You owe me one.

—Wes

Wes seals the envelope, stamps it, and writes Tucker’s address in the center, and uses one of his mom’s fancy returning address stickers so he doesn’t have to write anymore. Then he rushes out the townhouse and drops it off at the USPS outgoing mailbox, and rushes back inside before the powers that be decide Wes should be mugged again.

Tucker may be one of the Gaslighting Trio, but he was still nice enough to help Wes in their computers class.

xxXxx

Wes: Hi, it’s Wes! You gave me your number yesterday so I could give you coffee next time I went on a coffee run?

The reply comes unexpectedly fast for someone who runs a Fortune 500 company and is a whole entire vigilante, but maybe the coffee addiction is just that strong.

Tim: Wes! Yes, please. Have you left yet?

Wes: No, I haven’t even made the mobile order yet. Wanted to give you time to respond. Why?

Tim: Just a sec

Wes stares at his phone from his place in his mom’s office, where he sits in a brown suede chair that sits in front of her desk. His mom is typing away on her computer, a look of concentration on her face.

“Huh,” he says to himself, then exits the chat to return to putting in orders. He’d like to just click on a past order and reuse it, but Felix and Kourtnie are always changing their orders. He’s convinced it’s because they hate him, but maybe it’s that he’s letting his experience with Jade color his vision.

“What is it, sweetie?” his mom asks without pausing in his work.

“Well, Tim asked me to text him next time I went to get coffee. And like, I did. And he answered, but then told me to wait a sec.”

“Can’t ignore orders from the big boss,” his mom says, and Wes nods.

“Yeah, but I think Kourtnie will die if she waits too long for her caffeine fix.”

“She’ll have to get over it, or stop by Batbucks before she comes in.”

“I don’t think she wakes up early enough for that….”

His mom snorts, “You’re right on that front. How did you even meet Mr. Drake?”

He shrugs and looks back to his phone, “I dunno. He pressed the elevator button for me a few days ago, and now suddenly all of this—” he gestures to everything, “—is a thing.”

“Teenagers,” his mom mutters under her breath.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just that you suck at describing things.”

“You’re mean. I’m disowning you as my mother.”

“Have fun on the streets of Gotham.”

“I’ll sell your credit card numbers online to buy a bus ticket back to Amity.”

“Greyhounds don’t go to Amity. Try again.”

“I’ll hitchhike and get serial killed by a semi-truck driver to get back to Amity. Then I’ll come back as a ghost and haunt you and Gotham.”

“Not Amity Park?”

“No, they have other problems.” Like the Guys In White. Gotham has issues, but at least they aren’t government-mandated war crimes type of issues.

His mom goes to say something, but a knock at her office door stops her. She finally looks up from her computer and makes eye contact with the interrupter, and says, “Oh, come in, Mr. Drake.”

Wes has to physically stop himself from whipping around, “Oh, hey, Tim! What’s up?”

This is it. He’s finally figured out what I figured out and now he’s come for my kneecaps.

Okay, that was dramatic, even for him. He was making the Bats sound like a little family of mob members. Really, they were just superheroes. They couldn’t do anything harmful to Wes. At least not physically.

….Would they erase his memories? Is mind-fucking considered physical harm?

Wes breaks into a nervous sweat.

“I just want to help Wes out with his coffee run,” Tim explains with that charming Wayne smile that wins the hearts of anyone who feels. “I hope you don’t mind me going out with your son, Penny?”

“Not at all,” his mom answers. “Have fun, boys. Oh, and Mr. Drake?”

“Yes?”

“Tell your brother to stop flipping off the cameras every time he spots paparazzi.”

Tim winces, “I’ll send the message, but we can’t really run a business and control Jason at the same time.”

Jason Todd. As in Red Hood, the second Robin. The one who was pronounced dead overseas, but was miraculously found safe and somewhat sound several years later. Fantastic.

Wonder how much of that death was real? Wes has had enough ecto-exposure thanks to his stalking hijinks in Amity Park to know when he’s around others who have been touched by Death. He’s about 60% sure he could clock that in Jason Todd if he ever happened to get near him.

Hopefully while in his civilian persona. Wes is uninterested in meeting any more vigilantes, thank you very much.

They say their goodbyes to his mom and he gets up to follow after Tim, his knees a little wobbly. How long can he pretend to be nervous about hanging out with the guy who signs not just his paycheck, but his mom’s?

They walk through the PR Department and make it to the elevator, painstakingly going through the motions of small talk. Wes is aware of every word he utters, carefully asking himself what could be taken the wrong way, and what is innocuous enough to say.

“So what did you want from Batbucks?” he asks as the elevator lowers.

“Oh, the same as what you got last time,” Tim answers, and Wes abides by that request with a single press of a button. Their conversation moves to favorite TV shows as they leave WE and head to the crosswalk to make it to the Batbucks across the street, and once there, Wes pushes the check-in button to signal to the baristas that he’s there for pickup whenever the order is finished, and they take a seat against a wall and far from the windows.

“A Trekkie, huh?” Tim asks when Wes tells him his top five TV shows. “And a crime fan, too.”

Wes shrugs, fiddling with his fingers, “I like to figure out the ending before the characters do, and honestly, I just like George Takei.”

Tim tilts his head, “That’s fair. I like crime shows, too.”

Haha yeah, I bet you do.

“What’s your favorite?” Wes obligingly asks.

“Oh, Criminal Minds, easily. Spencer’s a great character.”

Wes wonders how a person with two full-time jobs like Tim has time for hobbies that include 40-minute episodes.

“You just like seeing characters in pain, don’t you?”

“I do not!” Tim protests, affronted. “I just think he’s a good character! With good development!”

“That’s what I’d say, too,” Wes teases.

Tim shakes his head, “You’re impossible. He’s just a good character! He’s so smart and awkward. What’s not to love?”

Wes gives a half-shrug, “I mean, I guess that’s fair. He is a good character. But I’m more of a Garcia person.”

“They really make the show,” Tim agrees. “Their dynamic is iconic.”

“Speaking of iconic….” Wes takes a deep breath disguised as a sigh. Okay, so if he were going to be interrogated, it would have happened by now. So it’s probably not happening unless he’s going to see a Bat on the fire escape tonight. But if he can just reveal a tiny bit of his hand—just a little smidge—maybe he can avoid suspect altogether.

“Yeah?”

“I have to ask,” Wes says nervously. “It’s definitely not my business, but yesterday, when I dropped off the coffees…. I kind of saw the picture of that villain? And I was wondering… who told Mr. Wayne that the villain had a sticker of a My Immortal quote? Who had to explain to him what My Immortal is?”

Because surely Tim knows, if not from having read the infamous fic then from doing research about the villain.

Tim smirks and says, “That’s the best part, Wes. Bruce already knew.”

He choked on air, “You’re kidding me!”

“I’m not. I’m really, really not. You didn’t hear this from me, but,” Tim pauses, giving a playful, sneaking look around for any listeners, and he whispers, “my brother Dick referenced it so much that Bruce read it himself.”

“Bruce Wayne. Read My Immortal.” The fucking Batman read My Immortal? Willingly?

“Oh yeah, he did.”

“Did… did he recognize the quote? Did he remember?”

“No, but he did when Dick said, ‘Damn, I hope Batman puts his middle finger up at that prep villain.’”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Wes knows he’s getting a modified version of what really happened, but he can fill in the gaps. Nightwing quoted My Immortal to Batman. And Batman recognized it because he once read the fic in an effort to relate to his teenage son.

Well, vigilantes are human, too. Why shouldn’t Batman know who Vampire and Bloody Mary are?

The next few minutes pass in friendly conversation before their order name is called, and both get up to collect. Wes tries to get two out of the three carton holders, but Tim intercepts.

“Tim,” he says, half-chastising.

“I just like helping! And this is getting me out of a board meeting.”

Wes’s face screws up in distaste. “Well, that’s fair, then.”

They make their way back to the 73rd floor of Wayne Enterprises and they are hounded in the way that has become so expected for Wes. A new addition to the coffee delivery is Rebecca’s eyes lighting up upon seeing that Tim is helping Wes.

“Did you like last night’s meme, Mr. Drake?” Rebecca asks, collecting her venti iced mocha latte.

Tim nods, “I did. Nice work on the Photoshop. And the filming equipment should be down today.”

Wes watches as Rebecca does her best not to squeal in excitement, “Thank you, sir!”

He nods and turns to Wes, “I’ll see you later, yeah?” His black bangs do nothing to hide the way his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Wes nods wordlessly, his throat suddenly tight and full. Tim’s smile widens and he leaves for the elevator.

When the doors close on his figure, Rebecca jams her index and middle fingers into Wes’s ribs, “Oh my god, were you two on a coffee date?”

“Ow, Rebecca, what? No! He just wanted to escape the board.” Wes rubs his ribs comfortingly, his muscles stinging. “That hurt, what the hell?”

“Sorry!” She’s not sorry at all. “Do you think we can get him to do a TikTok for us?”

He spares a glance at the elevator, which has long since taken Tim up to whatever floor he haunts. “Maybe? It’d make sense, considering the whole CEO thing. Why wouldn’t he be in a TikTok at some point?”

“No reason,” she says, but there’s a fire in her eyes and a mischievous cut to her grin that she fails to hide behind her coffee. Wes’s gut curdles in dread.

“You terrify me.”

“Thanks! Now come to my office. You need to practice your lines for the TikTok.”

“I feel like my mom has to sign some kind of release form if I’m going to be on the WE TikTok,” he warns, but dutifully follows after her. “Also, you have a cubicle. Not an office.”

“Hush, or I’ll take away your stool. And your mom already signed one, so ha.”

“Hushing.” He mimes the action of locking his lips and throwing away the key.

“Ugh, you’re adorable.”

They get to the cubicle and each takes a seat, Rebecca immediately sorting through several stacks of papers before making a triumphant noise and handing him a sheet. Wes takes it and stares at it uncomprehendingly for a few seconds.

“Rebecca, this is just stage directions and the lines to that Cunk on Earth audio.”

She nods, “And if we get the TikTok approved fast enough, maybe we’ll even post it when the trend is still semi-popular.”

“And what will I be actually saying?”

“Don’t worry about that. Just focus on being able to lip sync.”

“Oh boy."

xxXxx

Wes had thought he would have at least a few days to get used to the idea of having his face plastered all over the internet. Unfortunately, it would seem he underestimated Rebecca’s work ethic when it came to something she wanted because she only made him do three retakes, and then she made quick work of editing. Wayne Enterprises' first-ever TikTok would be ready to go live in the morning with his mother’s and Tim’s approval.

The TikTok in question is Wes standing in the Wayne Enterprises lobby, smiling wide and happy at the camera when he first begins talking: “It’s hard to believe I’m walking through the ruins of the first ever city.” He pauses, drops the smile, and says, “Because I’m not: that’s in Iraq, which is miles away, and fucking dangerous.” Then, he holds up two cartons of coffee into the camera frame, all filled with (secretly) empty paper venti cups, and is swarmed by various WE employees who volunteered (or were coerced by Rebecca) to be in the TikTok.

Rebecca doesn’t let him see exactly how she subtitled the video, but he can guess. And sure enough, when the TikTok profile and video simultaneously go live the next day and Wes sees it, he is proven mostly right.

“It’s hard to believe I’m the new face of Wayne Enterprises’ official TikTok. Because I’m not: I’m just an intern, and I get the f*cking coffee.”

Rebecca had even captioned it as if he were the one writing and posting: It’s at least a paid internship. The words are then followed by a string of hashtags. Well, that just goes to show that you can’t trust corporations’ social media, even if they do try to come across as real and friendly and like a person who could be your friend. Parasocial relationships are dangerous, who knew?

“The likes and comments are coming in fast,” Rebecca says, staring down at the WE phone that Tim had sent down with the filming equipment to use for the WE TikTok. She’s also done more than she needed to with it, downloading other social media and logging into them on her personal profiles. Wes didn’t comment on it, even if he did think it was not the smartest move, but she said it was so she could get away with “studying” current trends easier.

“It is Wayne Enterprises,” he remarks. “It’d be like if, I dunno, if Superman finally downloaded TikTok. But, like, this is more corporate greed than ‘protecting humanity’ type of thing.”

“That’s true,” she nodded. “But I mean, the Waynes are pretty generous. I make more here than I would anywhere else.”

“Yeah, fair. And paid internships aren’t exactly common, either.”

Wes wouldn’t admit it, but while he’d given up on proving the Fenton-Phantom conspiracy and other identities, he did still have a bit of a stalking problem. So when Google sent him a news alert about the Waynes making a press statement about the break-in, he immediately hit it to read the article while Rebecca read new comments on TikTok aloud for him to hear.

The Waynes Speak About Break-in At WE

The article discusses how grateful they were to Batman and his flock for stopping the break-in, even if they hadn’t caught the new villain. Really, it’s just a puff piece about the Princes of Gotham’s perception of the Knights of Gotham. And considering Wes’s insider knowledge, the article comes across as a little condescending and self-praising, and he’s close to exiting the website when a throwaway comment near the end of the article catches his eye, and he reads on.

VV: And are you at liberty to say what the villain was looking for? Is it something we should have our eyes on?

BW: [laughs] Well, it’s something that has been spoken about before, I believe? I think Tim could tell you more about it than me. He’s definitely got the brains. You know, when he was—

TDW: Haha, thanks, B! I can’t give too much away because the lead scientist on the project, Dr. Michelle Amir, will get upset, but I can say that we’re expecting a breakthrough in renewable energy.

VV: Are you sure that’s all you can tell us?

TDW: I’m afraid so. Dr. Amir is very protective of her research.

VV: And it would seem with good reason! It’s a good thing Gotham’s own….

…And the interview returns to preaching the Batfamily’s praises.

Wes has to roll his eyes at the Brucie Wayne persona trying to take every conceivable opportunity to gush about his children.

Still, he recognizes that the article was published just a few hours after the TikTok started to go viral. Any reports about the WE break-in will be buried under tabloids dissecting the new TikTok profile and what this means for future WE advertisements. Clever, and exactly what he expects from the Bats.

As he exits the website, a text notification pops up at the top of his screen. It’s from Tucker Foley and all it says is, “YOU!” in all caps.

He sighs as a rush of other texts hit his phone from his classmates at Casper High, some even including the link to the TikTok.

And so it begins.

xxXxx

Tag List:

@theamazingfox @quietlyscared @lumosfeather18581 @blankliferain @amercurio @gin2212 @starscreamlover @hoarder-of-gender

If you want to be added to the Tag List, just ask in the replies 💙

#dc x dp #dp x dc #crossover fic #danny phantom #dc #batman #batfamily #wes weston #tim drake #tim drake/wes weston #brucie wayne fears the paperwork and media wrangling of politics #bruce wayne #the curse of sight #stalker buddies au #tucker foley #tiktok #social media

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mytheoristavenue · 1 year

Text

Day 1: Donatello + Mistletoe

Summary: Donnie catches you under the mistletoe with him!

Warnings: None!

Note: Yes I did make that banner in Canva, I tried my best! 😅

You stood back on the top step on the lair's entrance marveling at your work with a victorious grin. Somehow, you'd managed to convince Splinter to let you throw the guys a Christmas party, and you couldn't be more pleased with yourself. Of course there was a very tight guest list, but that's to be expected when you the hosts are mutants who shouldn't exist. Casey and April would be arriving shortly, and everything was decorated, it was nearly time. And to think, you'd managed to keep it all a surprise, just between you, the humans, and the rat.

"Guys, c'mere!" you shouted with uncontained glee. One by one, all the turtles filed in, each filled with wonder at the state of the living room. "Merry Christmas!" You chirped, exchanging an excited grin with their father, who had come in with them. "Well, don't be strangers! I put on some carols, we got a hot chocolate bar, and I even picked out a few movies for us to watch!"

"Wait-" Mikey froze, his eyes darting to the kitchen island, practically drooling over the assortment of cookies, hot milk, chocolate and toppings. "We get to make our own hot chocolate?!"

"Well, duh!" you laughed, walking over to him.

"Oh my gosh," he gushed, rocking on his heels and barely containing his enthusiasm. "That's so boss! I've never made hot chocolate before! Hey, by the way, what's hot chocolate?" Your jaw dropped as you scanned the boys' faces, all of them showing signs of confusion.

"You guys..." you chuckled, taking a cup from the selection. "C'mere, I'll show you." You demonstrated the process of making the treat, dropping a ball of chocolate into your mug, before pouring boiling milk over it. To their awe, the shell of melted to reveal a brown dust that floated around atop the liquid. After mixing it, you dropped a handful of marshmallows into the drink, before topping it with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. After you finished, you took a sip, humming with delight, beofre wiping away a small milk mustache. "That's just how I do it, but you can do it how ever you want! It's better with milk than water, though."

You barely had the chance to move out of the way before the bar was ransacked by grabbing hands, a chorus of bickering to accompany. You giggled, shaking your head and heading to the sofa, just in time for Casey and April to arrive.

-----

"So you guys have never celebrated Christmas before?" the ginger asked curiously, sipping her coco.

"Not exactly," Leo answered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not like this at least."

"Christmas is a little different in Japan," Donnie explained. "Master Splinter's culture is the only one we know. Plus it's hard to celebrate anything when you live in the sewers."

"We still get gifts though!" Mikey boasted, hoisting up his skateboard and pointing to a sticker on the bottom of it. "Master Splinter gave me this last year."

"It's more about spending time with family for us," Raph added with a playful smirk. "Now matter how much it hurts."

The conversation droned on, everyone sharing a bit of what the holiday meant to them, or how they normally celebrated. Eventually it shifted to traditions, and symbols and the stories behind them. "So all this stuff has a meaning to it?" the eldest turtle asked, glancing around the room. "Even the star on top of the tree?"

You hummed in response. "Mhm! It's supposed to symbolize the star of Bethlehem, from the story of the birth of Christ. It's a Christian thing, but I just think it looks pretty!"

"What about that little plant hanging from the doorway to the lab?" Raph asked, cocking a brow and tossing a thumb towards it.

"Oh, that's just mistletoe." you replied nonchalantly.

"Wait," Donnie objected, brows furrowing together. "Isn't mistletoe poisonous?"

"Only if you eat it," you snickered. "I strongly advise against eating any of the decorations though."

"What does it symbolize?" he asked, tilting his head as he looked down at you from his seat to your left.

"Peace and fertility, I think." you answered, tapping your chin to ensure you remembered correctly. "It originated in Greece. When two people get walk under it at the same time, their supposed to kiss and make peace with each other."

The terrapin's face heated as he imagined sharing his first kiss over such an occasion. "Seems like somebody's just dyin' to make peace with you, (Y/N)." Raph chided, nudging his younger brother's side. You simply laughed them off as they began to argue.

-----

You hummed softly to the carols that were playing on the radio as you bustled around the lair cleaning up after the party. All the attendees had retired to where ever it was they chose to rest, and Casey and April had gone home for the night. You decided to sleep over, claiming the couch as yours.

Suddenly, a soft voice made you jump as you dropped the dish you were washing. "Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Donnie," you recognized, before turning back to the sink. "Mind giving me a hand with the clean up? You guys really did a number on this kitchen."

His eyes fell downcast, before perking back up to look at you again. Maybe if he persisted, you'd notice. "Um, sure but first can you-"

"Don, sweetie, you're gonna have to speak up, I can't hear you over this water." you called from over your shoulder, wishing he'd just come to you and talk so you didn't have to yell.

"S-Sorry," he muttered, before clearing his throat and upped his volume by a few notches. He felt so embarrassed shouting the words he needed to say. "Uh, could you come over here for just a-"

Finally, your shoulders slumped with frustration, and you shut of the water, drying your hands on a towel. When you turned to face him. it took you a moment to process, and you, unfortunately needed it spelt out for you. "Um, (Y/N)? W-Would you come over here with me for just a minute?"

Your cheeks caught fire at the sight of him standing there timidly, patiently waiting for you to kiss him under the mistletoe. "D-Donnie... I-"

"Y-You don't have to," he stated, losing all his courage. "Sorry, this was a stupid idea, just forget about it."

"I'd love to..." you paused, deciding to rephrase, lest you let on to having the wrong idea. "Come over there with you..."

Your heart pounded in your head as you approached him, each step seemingly getting you no closer. Finally, you were standing directly in front of him, both of you sharing an awestruck expression. Suddenly, he cleared his throat, almost as if he had a reversed speech to recite. "Oh, look," he said nervously, his voice meek and barely there. "Looks like we're under the mistletoe..."

"Guess that means we gotta make peace then..." you trailed awkwardly.

"Guess so..." he replied, glancing around for anything he could use to buy him a little bit of time to calm down. "Guess we should-uh, k-kiss now?"

"Probably..." you encouraged, waiting less than patiently for your first kiss. Eventually, you sighed, shoulders dropping with the realization that he'd chickened out. And you couldn't be the one to initiate, since he was the one that invited you, it'd be weird! Right?

Donnie fought a war with himself, one part telling him to just buck up and go for it, and the other telling him it wasn't the right time, and that he'd made a fool of himself. When he finally glanced back at you and noticed the sadness in your eyes, and you body language queued that you were going to depart, he decided to go with the former.

"Aw screw it," he suddenly snapped, swiftly wrapping an arm around your waist, while his free hand came up to cup your cheek as he dipped you slightly, looming over you with the calmest expression. You were entranced by how suave he'd managed to become at the drop of a dime, staring up at him through half lidded eyes, lips parted and more than ready. With no more hesitation, his lips came down and claimed yours, holding that connection for a few moments.

To the both of you, it felt like hours could have ticked by in the span of just a few seconds. When you finally parted, you gasped, having forgotten about the need for air almost completely. As you collected your breath, you began to feel his touch leaving you, prompting you to leap forward and catch him in another kiss, this one much shorter.

"Sorry," you blushed, pulling back. "I've just been waiting for that for a while."

"Well, if I would've known, you wouldn't have." he chuckled, pulling you into his chest for an embrace. "Merry Christmas, (Y/N)."

Taglist:

@sunshinesdaydream @helpyaw @thelaundrybitch @momii @camillahorne26 @turtle-babe83 @fyreball66 @sharpwindow @roseygardenfan @pheradream15 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @hyunonion

#tmnt #tmnt x reader #donatello x reader #donnie x reader #tmnt 2012 #2012 donnie #lemon's 12 days of christmas

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hoperays-song · 11 months

Text

Sing Father’s Day Headcanons

Ash gets Father’s Day gifs for both Buster and Clay. Buster cried the first time she did so and Clay put her logo sticker on his guitar immediately afterwards.

Meena spends the day going to museums with her grandfather to celebrate, always ending the day with a picnic.

Buster watches his dad’s favourite movies with his family to honor him and will visit his grave to leave flowers every Father’s Day without fail.

Ryan’s family just celebrates it as Mother’s Day 2.0 and will go out for brunch as a family. After meeting Marcus however, he starts calling him on Father’s Day.

Eddie has lunch with his parents before hanging out with Buster and the rest of their family for the day. He also sends a card to Hobbs however.

Johnny will get Marcus a mug with a horrible pun on it and spend the day helping him around the garage. He will also make dinner for him and his uncles.

Rosita and her family will typically play a board game marathon of Norman’s favourite games. She and the kids will let him win on Father’s Day only.

Nooshy makes Marcus a card that she always hides around the garage for him to find and eats dinner with the family.

Porsha spends the day hanging out with Buster and Eddie and will make them really elaborate cards. She will also send a card to Jimmy but it’s much plainer.

Just as there was a special Mother’s Day performance at the Majestic, there is also one for Father’s Day with additional performances by each teen cast member in honor of their dads (yes it is in the fic).

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bokutosmochi · 1 year

Text

A HEART MADE OF CLAY ♡ TENDO SATORI

tendo satori x gn!reader

"two orders of taiyaki for tendo satori and anon please!"

ingredients? it's tendo's birthday so you give him a one of a kind experience

what's it? fluff

allergen warnings? n/a

sugar level? 1.2k

regulars? @tokyometronetwork @tahonet

parlor's note? tendo's so precious, i love him (⁠＾⁠∇⁠＾⁠)⁠ﾉ

bon appetit!

"this is so fun, ain't it, sugar?" satori had a wide smile on his face which you swore could put sunshine to shame. his hands were being guided by an employee of the pottery company that had pottery making classes. his foot kept on stepping on the pedal of the pottery wheel, a moderate speed to keep the shape of the clay in the form that he wanted -- for his first creation, him and the guide decided on a regular mug.

"glad you're having fun, baby." you smiled at him, pointing the camera in his direction and snapping a few photos. you wanted to keep these memories in a photograph so you would never forget it -- it was tendo's birthday, after all, and this pottery class is your birthday gift for him, after all.

something you noticed when tendo became comfortable with you enough to tell you about his quirks was that he was a collector. from random trinkets he thought were fun to keep, to stickers and stamps, he has a variety of them kept in a cookie tin under his bed. but his biggest collection were his coffee mugs. they ranged from mugs of different shapes, to mugs that came from all parts of the world -- one of his favorites was a mug from poland recently sent to him by a friend of his back in high school. something they all had in common though, was that tendo took good care of them as he cherished each and every one of them.

"we can put them here to dry," the person gestured to the sunlit shelf where the one you had made before tendo got started on his sat. "normal pottery clay takes up to seven days to dry enough to fire, but we use a special kind of pottery clay for our classes so they should be done and ready to be painted and fired in an hour or so." he said as tendo placed his on the speckled marble shelf, almost touching yours.

he closed the gap between the two of you and rested his head on the top of yours. "look at how close they are, sugar." he cooed. "they're just like us." he booped your nose from behind.

you certainly hoped you didn't make the pottery assistant too uncomfortable with the pda, but it was clear he felt he was intruding on a private moment between the two of you when he cleared his throat and began to speak again, not making eye contact with either of you.

"would you guys like to make some clay art on your own?" he asked, although he already knew the answer and was just asking for confirmation -- you have stated the desire to do so prior, when you signed up for this class on their business' website.

"yes please, and we would like some privacy too please." that was the next question after would you like to make some clay art on your own, so you assumed he was going to ask that as well.

he gave you a curt nod, "as you wish. if you need help, please do not hesitate to press this button to alert myself or any of the claymates playmates staff." he pointed at a red button attached to the wall before exiting the room, leaving you and your boyfriend to your own devices.

"what do you wanna do, 'tori?" you turned to him with curiosity. based on how his face lit up with excitement, you knew he has an idea. it was a familiar face, one that always came out whenever he was brainstorming for new dessert ideas and he came up with one he knew with absolutely certainty would sell well. "we can make mugs for each other, sugar~" he drawled out. "it doesn't even have to look like traditional mugs, it can be any shape you want."

you smiled and kissed his cheek, leaving it burning with affection. "that's a great idea, babe."

you proposed your supporting idea next; "we can make them a surprise too! we could be back-to-back with each other while making them!" he loved your idea just as much as you loved his, so now you found yourselves, your back to his while working on your brown lumps of clay.

even when you were done shaping the clay, you did not show it to each other yet. not even when the timer you had set to let you know when you can paint the pieces finally rang. you continued to hide it with your body while tendo pressed the red button to let the person whose responsibility was to assist you know that you were done.

you let them in on your plan, so firstly, they took the traditional mugs you did with the assistant earlier, then took the special ones one-by-one to ensure that they were hidden from the other's view.

the moment they left the room to go and fire the clay pieces you just made, tendo turned to you with a smirk -- you already knew that he was up to no good. "so paradise, you plan on telling me what you made?"

you rolled your eyes at his antics, before palming his face and gently pushing it away from you. "no way, satori. it's a surprise." making him pout -- excessively, way excessively to the point of him looking silly. "aww c'mon baby, it's my birthday? wontcha give your handsome boyfriend a little itsy bitsy clue?"

"you'll love it, that's all your getting." you challenged him, arms crossed on your chest. "you'll love it more if it was actually a suprise for you so i'm not telling." you pretended to zip your mouth shut and throw away the imaginary key.

much to his dismay, you kept your word the whole time your masterpieces were being fired. you were able to resist his pleads and the way he batted his eyelashes at you. but, much to his delight, having something to do - aka bother you - made the time pass faster. the next thing you knew, the assistant was back in the room with you, four small heavy cardboard boxes in his hands. he handed tendo the ones he made, then handed you the ones you made before thanking the both of you for attending the class.

unable to cope with the suspense, you and tendo hurried to the apartment you shared to open the boxes.

it felt like christmas morning to you - if you don't celebrate christmas then it went exactly like how you imagined christmas morning would feel like based on the movies you've seen in your time - and hoped it felt that exciting to your boyfriend as well.

you were able to open tendo's surprise first. you never had a doubt about his artistic ablity, but what he made you is otherworldly -- it was a mug in the shape of your favorite animal. you were going to thank him, but before you could utter a single word, you were tackled into a hug. "this is amazing sugar, thank you!" he exclaimed, now rubbing the side of his face like a cat. "my paradise from high school, gifted to me by my real paradise." he hummed, eyes once again appraising the heart shaped volleyball mug you made.

i get: reblog

you get: an application to be part of the claymates playmates staff

#order of the day!#order up for tendo!#with a side of coconut italian ice #tendo fluff #haikyuu fluff #tendo x reader #haikyuu x reader #tendo one shot #haikyuu one shot #tendo x you #haikyuu x you #tendo x yn #haikyuu x yn #tendo scenarios #haikyuu scenarios #tendo drabble #haikyuu drabble #a date with u event #one matcha mochi

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disco-elysium-via-polls · 8 months

Text

This mug is an example of prejudice. I'm going to use it as an example of what *not* to do.

YELLOW MAN MUG - But it was in the trash. Why not just call it out when you see it? Or do some volunteering work? Just finish your case, detective.

Now, the ledger.

DAMAGED LEDGER - This is the ledger you found in the trash. It's full of notes written in a man's dense cursive. Have a closer look -- maybe it can be salvaged to start keeping notes on the case?

>Interact

DAMAGED LEDGER - It's the ledger you found in the trash: a pitiful cabbage of white and yellow papers hanging from plastic board, barely held together by a metal clip. This sad display is made complete by the faint smell of urinal cleaner.

Anything *else*?

I think I got it.

[Put the ledger away.]

DAMAGED LEDGER - There's a piece of toilet paper -- or is it cleaning tissue? No, it's toilet paper -- *desperately* sticking to the back of the blue plastic clipboard.

It's a metaphor -- for you.

INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] - Below the pathetics -- terror. Do not look into its blue heart.

Inspect the toilet paper.

Inspect the clip.

Browse the *white* papers.

Browse the *yellow* papers.

Look at the clipboard.

Smell the ledger.

[Put the ledger away.]

DAMAGED LEDGER - It's just toilet paper, sticking to the back of the plastic clipboard. You can take it off if you want.

(Take it off.)

(Leave it there, it's cool.)

Maybe it's kitchen tissue? They look exactly the same.

DAMAGED LEDGER - If you *want* it to be kitchen tissue, it can be kitchen tissue.

PERCEPTION (SMELL) [Easy: Success] - It's not though. It's toilet paper.

(Take it off.)

DAMAGED LEDGER - Still wet, the toilet paper -- I mean *kitchen tissue*, sorry -- peels off the plastic easily. All you have to do is shake it off your finger, and voilà, the ledger now looks (marginally) better.

+5 XP

Inspect the clip.

DAMAGED LEDGER - An aluminium block runs the width of the board, biting down on the paperwork. Its crocodile teeth are the only thing keeping the papers together. A regular pencil, the tip worn down to nothing, has been attached to the clip.

Run your finger across the aluminium.

Enough of the clip. (Back.)

DAMAGED LEDGER - The surface is interrupted by a silvery *sticker*. It's rectangular, sparkling with iridescence. You don't know how you didn't notice it before...

"Lieutenant, is this one of the *hologram watermarks* you mentioned?" (Point to the sticker.)

KIM KITSURAGI - "What?" He is lost in his own notes. It takes a moment for him to see it. "Yes, a halogen watermark used for adding information to RCM property."

"Interesting. What kind of information?"

"How can I read it?"

"That's all, thank you. (Conclude.)"

KIM KITSURAGI - "It depends. Aside from an anti-counterfeiting stamp, mine has my station number and address. The information varies by date of issue."

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] - How many years you've been on the force, he's thinking. It'll have that.

2. "How can I read it?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Any capable light with the right wavelength will do."

"Like -- for example?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "All RCM vehicles have headlights designed to reveal halogen watermarks. Mine too."

INTERFACING [Easy: Success] - This means you can read the watermarks, if you just turn the lights on.

New task: Read the watermarks

3. "That's all, thank you." (Conclude.)

KIM KITSURAGI - "Okay." He returns to his neatly kept notes...

DAMAGED LEDGER - ...while a bunch of sodden papers sag from the clipboard in your hand. It's a sorry sight.

2. Browse the *white* papers.

DAMAGED LEDGER - They're not *exactly* white. They're yellowed in patches by sunlight and alcohol, and covered in dense blue handwriting. Ink escapes into watercolour patterns, reaching its tendrils across entire pages. The paper itself is chequered with faint red lines forming short paragraphs.

Once in a while there's a red stamp that exclaims: CASE FILES; COMMIT TO PAPER. The *CASE FILES* themselves are plenty. You count more than a hundred sodden, crumpled up, earmarked pages falling apart in your hands. They appear to be sufficiently organized and extremely dense, if mostly illegible.

What is in there -- what are they about?

DAMAGED LEDGER - Work. Strife. Poverty. The Jamrock Quarter. These are handwritten logs of investigations dating back to January '51, this year. The exact number is hard to estimate due to missing pages -- and an *odd* naming convention -- but there are at least twenty, maybe thirty cases. Undertaken, not completed, mind you.

LOGIC [Easy: Success] - It's the middle of March -- you have attempted two cases a week on average.

"Is two cases a week a good case load, lieutenant?"

There was mention of a... *naming convention* here?

(Count the pages.) I have to open an official case. Is there room?

I'm done inspecting these. (Close the case files.)

KIM KITSURAGI - "Huh?" He raises his nose from his notes. "Two *complex* cases to undertake is a lot, yes. You *really* have to push yourself. I would not suggest it. Lest you start making mistakes."

"Two cases a week appears to have been my load, lieutenant. I'm not sure I completed them though."

Nod and return to the case notes.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Two?" He raises both eyebrows. "That's a lot. I didn't mean to say you're making mistakes, by the way. That was presumptuous of me."

"I'm sure I made plenty of mistakes."

"I burned out all right."

"A nice brisk pace. The way I like it."

KIM KITSURAGI - "That's okay." He nods, then turns back to his own case files. "We all do, sooner or later."

DAMAGED LEDGER - Like a fan of gills the chequered papers dry in your hand. The handwriting is extremely dense, if mostly illegible.

2. There was mention of a... *naming convention* here?

DAMAGED LEDGER - Yes. It appears you employ a... shall we say *robust yet literary* system. Each investigation has its case number written on the margins. Yet, still more tellingly, most are accompanied by a *name*.

Oh my, and they're written in capital letters too...

I don't wanna... (Back to the case files.)

DAMAGED LEDGER - Yes, all caps. One is called THE NEXT WORLD MURAL, another THE SQUARE BULLET HOLE MURDERS. Another yet: THE UNSOLVABLE CASE.

More?

DAMAGED LEDGER - Others appear more light-hearted: THE GUYS ON A COUCH IN AN UNEXPECTED LOCATION and THE MURDER AT THE HOOKAH PARLOUR, even the rare article-free COLLAPSING TENEMENT. Murder features prominently throughout.

It's going to take an effort to piece these case files together, but it can be done -- later, once you're done inspecting them up close.

3. "Kim, my cases appear to employ some kind of… naming convention."

KIM KITSURAGI - "You mean the alphanumeric -- officer, precinct, time of arrival at the scene?"

"That's the one." (Lie.)

"No, I mean a… *non-numeric* one. With titles."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Oh, you mean the *titular*. Yes, well... So do I. In our defence -- almost everyone in the RCM does."

"Why is that?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "It's a holdover from the early days of the RCM -- right after the Revolution, when the organization had little idea how to do things. It persists in an *unofficial* capacity. Officers use these titles to refer to their work among themselves."

"I seem to have named a case "THE SQUARE BULLET HOLE MURDERS."

Don't mention it.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Again, in your defence, I seem to have named one..." He peeks into his notes. "THE MAN WITH THE HOLE IN HIS HEAD. That was a real person, his death was real. Still I named it that. To amuse myself."

He smiles. "I pray his loved ones never find out."

"What happened to him?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Rail spike through the head. He died. It was a work place accident."

4. (Count the pages.) I have to open an official case. Is there room?

DAMAGED LEDGER - There is -- for precisely *one* more. Fifteen pages near the end remain untouched by the damage. The chequered grid forms a structure of passages, breaking the case into sub-tasks to accomplish.

COMMIT TO PAPER -- using the pen Lena gave you.

(Back to the case files.)

DAMAGED LEDGER - The tasks you've completed flow out of the Kind Green Ape pen in a brash freehand similar to the rest of the letters. The wording comes easily, it's almost robotically simple; a language developed for mental rigour and simplicity:

"Inspect victim's body."

"Get the body down."

"Interview the cafeteria manager."

Cross out the ones you've already finished.

DAMAGED LEDGER - A satisfying slash sounds across the paper. *You're done* it seems to say. And *you!* -- and *you!*

Things to be done and things already done -- the composition of reality. This is an extremely useful tool for a detective of the Citizens Militia. Now all that remains is to name the case.

"Lieutenant, have you by any chance *named* our case?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "No -- actually. Any ideas?"

#disco elysium #kim kitsuragi

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mundyonmymind · 2 years

Text

mercs + their funny little hobbies

scout: ok so we know he draws but yknow what??? his passion is collecting little knick knacks and anything fun he finds along the road. he'd probably go running and get distracted by that odd looking pebble so he'd snag it and plop it into his box of goodies

solider: oh my god soldier would do yoga. please. i mean look this man is beefed up he could easily hold the difficult poses and a mans gotta work on his flexibility!!!!! soldier probably caught sniper doing yoga once and called him a fairy, but when sniper replied by saying how unamerican it is of him to not be flexible you KNOW soldier is now religiously doing yoga every morning. (turns out he actually likes it but shh)

pyro: they do photography :)!!! they have little photo albums filled with candid photos of everyone and yes of course they decorate the album with heart and star-shaped stickers. engie puts his favourite photos onto the fridge and they couldn't be happier!!

demo: ooh demo would do pottery!! he'd have a whole station and a good chunk of the plates and bowls in the communal kitchen would be made by him. he would also make the most rancid novelty mugs. most definitely a dick and balls mug.

heavy: he would absoloutely build miniatures and he would be Damn good at it. his miniatures would be kept in pristine condition and he'd get engie to help build him some lights or moving trains to add life. he'd hand paint and craft everything and would not let the offense team even LOOK at it because they would accidentally crush it.

engie: oh this guy loves to do puzzles. its the perfect Old Man activity that is engaging enough but also you can put some music on and its a ticket straight to Relax City Baby!!!!!!

medic: he'd do gardening but in the way crowley from good omens does gardening. he yells at the plants if they aren't doing good enough and violently trimming the dead leaves is great for stress relief!

sniper: ok so this man has definitely tried every imaginable hobby on the planet but i think among his favourites would be whittling/woodcarving. partially because theres a knife envolved, but also because he finds it super relaxing to slowly trim away at some woodblock, and with enough patience it turns into something useful! very practical that man

spy: this man's got a Passion for Fashion and i think he would design his own clothing! sewing clothes is a long and often frustrating process, so he'd really enjoy the battle and sink his teeth into it. he'd grab his favourite bottle of wine and start sewing!!

#tf2 headcanons #tf2 #sniper #spy #medic #engineer #pyro #scout #demo #soldier #heavy #one of my favourites so far :)#my stuff

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jerma-985 · 4 months

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28 & 38 for the ask post!!

28: Do you collect anything?

YES! I collect figures, Jerma merch, csm manga, pokemon cards, and snowglobes...

I shall show under the cut

I already answered 38 so ill do 39!

39: Youtuber you have been obsessed with and why?

Hmm I havent been super youtube brained lately but definitely check out Nick DiRamio on youtube! They are so under rated and are a queer youtuber!!! He covers bad shows/movies and also reviews drama.

Now time to show all my stuffs

First I will show my snowglobes!!

I have got some of these from myself and family members. My oldest snowglobe is the paris one that has leaked/had water just disappear from it. My mimi gave it to me when i was a kid and i treasure it a lot. I used to stim with it so much as a kid. A majority of these are from Orange Beach because I used to vacation there a lot with my family. The thing on the bottom far right isnt a snowglobe its just some resin thing we found in the house. I would love to have a glass case full of snowglobes in the future... grandpacore

Here is some of my csm manga. I always forget to remember which ones i do and dont have when I go to barnes and noble so thats why theres no 7th volume lol

Some of my pokemon cards (just the ones i have displayed on my desk) and one signed kurtis conner mock pokemon card

AND NOW

PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR MY JERMA MERCH COLLECTIONNNNN

First I will start with my favorites

My jerma dollhouse poster that was signed by ludwig, jerma, and kitboga. Its my favorite jerma merch I own besides my...

SIGNED USED IN GAME BASEBALL USED IN THE JERMA BASEBALL STREAM

The Jerma Baseball stream was so fucking fun and I am a fan of the sport so naturally I had to get this baseball. Pictured you can also see my Grotto Beasts 2 player starter kit and a Jerma mug I painted at a pottery place lol.

I also have these keychains that were made by @absterarts and Femiyr on IG

You should check out their stores! ABSTERARTS | FEMIYR

Now for my favorite poster in terms of design

this grottobeasts B.F. Bugleberry poster!!!!

I also have the jerma baseball poster and a couple things a friend made for me

NOT PICTURED are all my jerma stickers and my infamous jerma bumpersticker. This post is already clogged enough!!!!

#ask #long post #i will put this in the #jerma985 #tag for my blogs archival purposes #ratboyugly

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chocolatepot · 9 months

Text

2.03 ... I did write a first draft of a book review so I think it's okay to keep on with this.

I am over-reading into everything because my engines are revved up. Can't help but wonder about the "Jim's Mug", "Jim's Hot Chocolate" labels.

How many record players does Aziraphale own? Does he use the gramophone when he really wants to have an "I'm ENJOYING MUSIC with my VICTROLA" experience, and the more functional one when he just has music playing when he's not focusing on the aesthetic experience? That's what I would do if I had the space (not joking).

Muriel Muriel Muriel Muriel Muriel oh my godddddddddddddd they're so cute and Aziraphale is so sweet when playing along so they don't know they've been made. And he gets the soppy fond look at them!

The "this way up" sticker on the box ajkldsfjsklfjlksjflksjflksjlfks

Crowley can't help it either. FUCK I cannot wait to read fics with Muriel. I think we are all going to have so much fun with them.

Crowley discussing his plan for Maggie and Nina: "One fabulous kiss and we're good" !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THAT'S! WHAT! HE! TRIED! WITH! AZIRAPHALE!

I love how Aziraphale tells the Bentley that they're going to Edinburgh. I'm assuming this is because he doesn't know how to get there and he doesn't really remember how to drive so the Bentley is going to do all the work.

Crowley correctly guesses that Gabriel comes to Edinburgh to look at the statue of himself ...

Yessssss, I love it when people let Tenannt use his actual accent.

I can't tell if it's just the context of the opening of the season, but Crowley's love of humanity just comes through so hard in the Victorian scenes. That he helps Elspeth pull the body around, the way he smiles at her and Morag.

And the Bentley does what he wants just like Crowley does. Travel sweets, good idea. I love that he threatens to sell books, love the reminder that the bookshop is non-functional.

Awww, Beelzebub worrying about Gabriel!

Crowley carrying a stack of books all the way through the shop and then just flinging them while trying to remember why they did gravity ... love it. And the fly appears! Oh, that reminds me that in the second ep when the angels came, he's like "you can use two books as a fly swatter, but don't worry, it doesn't work"! The fly!!!

Crowley's romance plan hinging on shelter from rain - right, the first time he met Aziraphale he wasn't thinking romantically at all, and then the second time was post-fall, he started giving Aziraphale the soppy look, then Aziraphale sheltered him from the rain. Presumably for him that was The Thing, and so he thinks (perhaps with just a subconscious connection) that they need to replicate that moment. What a dork (affectionate).

Sean Biggerstaff is the surgeon?! He has filled out.

Making the body suddenly decompose was so bad, that is just peak Smug Thoughtless Angel right there. "It doesn't matter if the Scottish lesbians have no money, at least they'll go to Heaven when they die on the streets," basically. Crowley is SO disappointed in him.

"More murders! I'll drink to that." lmao

I am unconvinced by Dalrymple's rationale that his time is better spent learning more about anatomy than hunting his own cadavers. On one very Aziraphalian level, yes. On another, okay, do you pay the body hunters what the bodies are actually worth to your practice? Do you take on any of their risk or vouch for them if they get caught?

And he does get condemned for a resurrectionist per the back of the sign on the pub. Can't help but draw a parallel to Crowley - he asked innocent questions to help humanity (cut up cadavers to improve his understanding of medicine) and fell (went down in history as a criminal with blood on his hands) because of a judge, presumably, who didn't care about what he was doing, just the unfeeling law.

Aziraphale's journalist disguise ajskldfjfls I do love him even if he is so selfish. He's just like Inspector Muriel Constable when you get down to it!

Masons? Is it just me or was that kind of out of nowhere?

"Heaven isn't all it's cracked up to be." Oh, Crowley, my BABY. Maybe Aziraphale should just give them some money, though ...

Um, I'm not so sure wee Morag would want to be hacked up by Dalrymple? She was just describing it as stopping people from getting into Heaven? Hang on, is this a selfish!Aziraphale parallel? In line with Dalrymple selfishly driving a bargain for her corpse rather than paying the going rate ... And what's the point of selling Morag's body to get wine so Elspeth can go out in style? She's letting Elspeth be cut up so she can have a grave herself? I am perhaps overthinking this but the flashbacks/minisodes are all taking up time that could be spent on the actual plotline of the show so I can't help but be critical of what they do with those precious minutes. There are dozens of easy ways to kill yourself in Victorian Britain. Poison is everywhere and safety regulations are practically nonexistent. You don't need to make a complicated plan to swipe laudanum and buy wine to drink with it. Crowley being drunk on laudanum: hilarious but also kind of a timewaster. We could really have just had Elspeth be like "we might as well kill ourselves" after Aziraphale fucked up her sale and then Crowley could guilt Aziraphale into giving them both money.

Give me the fic about Crowley being punished by Hell for this and then coming back to get holy water from Aziraphale without telling him! THE ANGST!

What is that man's forehead tattoo?

And Crowley tosses another stack of books. What is he doing with these stacks?

Maggie says she's not that kind of person (to have an affair) - thinking about Crowley saying later that Aziraphale is too pure of heart to be anyone's bit on the side.

Gabriel prophesying about the dead rising ... in an episode with resurrection men. (I'm not making a point here, just connecting dots.)

Crowley keeps up the light banter with Shax after she says that Hell will declare war on Aziraphale specifically and then turns on the anger for Gabriel, who he still doesn't trust for obvious reasons. He just wants to keep Aziraphale safe and he knows he can't. He cares so much about this cheerfully selfish angel who loves the Earth along with him. As much as their screen time is equivalent, I really feel like this season is Crowley's story, in a sense.

#good omens #good omens s2 #my meta

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atths--twice · 1 year

Text

Chapter Three

The next morning, he arrived at the diner earlier than usual, just in case she changed her mind and needed his help. He had also stopped at the local pharmacy store and picked up some art supplies on his way: construction paper, crayons, colored pencils, a coloring book, a pink notebook, and a pack of unicorn stickers. He did not know what Ivy liked, but as an uncle, he knew kids usually enjoyed drawing and coloring.

He felt nervous as he looked around, setting his things down in a larger booth, on the off chance that he would need more space.

He had spent time with Dana outside of the bubble of the diner, met her daughter, been to her home… it made him see her differently, to worry about her and Ivy. He did not want to come across that way and so he was glad of having a moment to collect himself before he saw her.

“Hey, hon,” Lucy said, walking up and touching his arm as she smiled. “You setting up here today?”

“Uh… for now. Is… is that okay?” he asked and Lucy shrugged as she smiled at him.

“Bit slow right now, so make yourself comfortable. Coffee?”

“Yes, please. Thank you, Lucy.”

“You got it, hon.”

“Thanks,” he said again as she walked away and he removed his coat and scarf.

He took out his laptop, notebook and pen, setting them on the table and placing his bag on the seat as he slid into the booth, leaving Ivy’s things inside his bag for now. Keeping an eye on the door, he waited to see if she would be arriving soon.

“Here you go,” Lucy said, bringing him his coffee and a danish. “You need anything else?”

“No. I’m good for now.” He smiled at her and she nodded, walking over to another table.

He opened his laptop and turned it on as he added cream to his coffee. Glancing up, he saw Dana, alone, hurrying through the diner wearing her navy blue puffy coat and blue and white striped beanie with a gray puffball. Smiling at Lucy as she said something he did not catch, Dana laughed and then her gaze landed on him, halting her steps for a second.

Looking at her watch, she raised her eyes to him again and held up one finger. He nodded as she smiled and continued walking into the kitchen, Manny, Joe, and the kitchen staff calling out their hellos.

He waited, his heart pounding in his ears, knowing he was being ridiculous. Why was he so unnecessarily nervous? It was just Dana, the same woman he had spoken to for months.

But it felt different, he thought and he tried to push that thought away.

He heard her laughing and then she was walking toward him, her coat and hat gone, hair in her standard French braids and low bun, apron on and coffee pot in hand. She smiled as she reached him, touching his shoulder and adding a splash of coffee to his mug.

“Hello,” she said softly and he immediately felt at ease, all nervousness gone.

“Hi. You’re sans child this morning. You apparently found other arrangements,” he said and she nodded with a sigh.

“Thank goodness. It’s a huge weight off my mind.”

“That’s good,” he said, glancing at his bag, glad she did not know what was inside, not wanting to be seen as too pushy.

“My sister is a stay at home mom and homeschools her girls. She lives a couple of hours away by train and she offered to watch her for the rest of the week, actually through Sunday. She has two daughters, just a little older than Ivy, so it will be fun for all of them to spend time together and she will still have some schooling. She took the train down last night, arriving after Ivy had gone to sleep, and they left this morning.”

“Oh. Well, that’s great.”

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “I’ve never been away from her for more than a weekend and even that has been a long time. It will be weird to be alone in the apartment.”

“I’m sure.“

“Yeah…” She smiled at him and looked around. “I gotta get to work, but I’ll come check on you. Thank you again for offering to have her here with you. I really appreciate it.” She touched his shoulder again and he nodded.

“I’m gonna change tables, seeing as she’s not coming and I don’t want to take up a large space.”

“That was thoughtful of you,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

He nodded and she watched him as she walked away, turning away at the cross way so as not to run into anyone. He stood up and moved his belongings to the table he usually occupied. Sitting down to an open document on his laptop, he waited for inspiration to hit, even as his eyes strayed to Dana more often than he felt they should.

But nearly every time, she looked back with a smile and he could not help but answer with one of his own.

_________

Inspiration did hit and he lost himself in his writing, only noticing time passing as his stomach growled. With a sigh, he looked up, ready to take a much needed break. Dana caught his eye and smiled as she walked over.

“You’ve been busy,” she said and he nodded.

“I didn’t realize so much time had passed.”

“That’s good isn’t it? Means you’ve gotten a lot of writing done.”

“Yeah. Of course then I have to edit it and sometimes all these words end up in the trash, so to speak. It’s a process.”

“Well…” She shrugged and smiled again. “Would you like something to eat? Would you like some company? I have a break due.”

“I would love some company,” he said with a smile.

“Great. Do you want anything in particular?”

“Surprise me,” he replied and she smiled, walking to the kitchen.

He cleared away his clutter and made space for her to sit down, moving his bag and coat beside himself. Wiping the table down with some water and a few napkins, he sat back down and waited for her.

“Here we go,” she said, bringing out a tray of food. She set it down and he saw that it was club sandwiches, fries, and bowls of tomato soup. “This soup is a little spicier than the one on the menu- Manny makes a special pot for us as some of us like it with a little kick. I hope that’s okay.”

“Sounds great.” He took the plates and utensils off the tray and arranged them on the table as she took the tray back to the kitchen.

She had taken her apron off and put a zipped sweatshirt over her uniform shirt when she came back, carrying two large glasses of water for both of them. Everything set, they began to eat.

He smiled as he watched her wiping her mouth after each bite, always making sure it was clean. She opened her sandwich and added mustard, popping a piece of bacon into her mouth with a satisfied nod.

“So, I don’t know if I’ve ever asked you what your book is about. Have I?” she asked, smiling kindly at him and he fell even further in love with her.

“Um, I’m not sure. I don’t really talk about it as I’m still hopping from different ideas.”

“Is it fiction? Horror?” She shrugged and he smiled.

“Fiction, but I’m trying to let the story come to me as opposed to forcing it out. Today was mostly descriptions of characters and their backstories.”

“I see.”

Her phone beeped and she took it from her pocket, reading the message with a smile and sending one back at lightning speed.

“Ivy’s having fun. They’re painting pictures.” She turned her phone around to show him a picture: Ivy and her cousins all in front of easels at various stages of painting.

“That’s good for her. Oh… I see Princess Pandy has made the trip.” He smiled at the sight of her laying across Ivy’s lap.

“Oh, she never goes anywhere without her.” She put her phone down after another glance at the picture. “She’s had her since the day she was born. She was given so many stuffed animals, but the panda was her favorite from the moment she could differentiate between them. Always had her with her.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Don’t tell her, but…” She leaned forward and he smiled as he did the same. “… I have two backup pandas stored away, just in case something happens to Pandy.”

“Is that right?” he asked with a chuckle.

“It is,” she said, leaning back and popping a fry into her mouth. “I have a girlfriend who has a little boy. He had this stuffie that he loved. It had a bear face and little arms and his “body” was like a small blanket. He loved that thing. Well, one day he left it on a plane and it was no more.”

“Oh no. Please tell me there is a happy ending.”

“Yes,” she said with a smile. “But she had to search for it as they don’t make them anymore. She found someone on eBay who had two and she bought both. When they arrived, she washed them a few times, getting them to a more “lived and loved” state. When she told him Beary had found his way back, her son stared at it and then smelled it, saying he didn’t smell the same.” She smiled again and he smiled back, completely understanding what she meant.

“She told him that he had been on quite the journey. That he had left the airplane and been taken to the “left behind” area where a kind old man had taken him home, gave him a wash and then started to search for a way to find where he belonged. She said that he had traveled in many different cars, trains, and one plane. So many people had spent time with him, had loved him, he must have absorbed the scent of their caring.” She smiled again and he stared at her, blinking his eyes slowly.

“That’s… wow. That’s a great explanation. Did he believe it?”

“He did and he told everyone that his bear had been on a very long and exciting journey back to him.”

“I love that. A bit of the fantastic created for him.”

“Yeah. So… when I saw Ivy’s preference for her panda, I bought two more to have on hand. I rotated them when she was little, so they were loved and became worn in, but always only one out at a time. She has the main one now, but if anything happened, I think she would be more accepting of the replacement as it’s not brand new. You know?”

“Yeah. I think so too. It’s a smart idea.” nodded and she exhaled deeply, reaching for the bowl of soup and pulling it closer.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, eating their lunch. Lucy came by and refilled their water, winking at them as she walked away.

“So you’re on your own for a few days. What do you plan to do?” he asked with a smile.

“Hmm,” she hummed and shook her head. “I don’t really know. I have things I want to do, things I say if I only had the time and now I do, but what I’ll probably end up doing is drinking wine and watching Netflix.” He laughed and she shrugged, scrunching her chin.

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“No. But I do have things to do. It’s already the second of December and we don’t have a tree. Not only that, it’s Ivy’s birthday.”

“Really? She’s a Christmas baby?”

“Nearly was. But no, it’s the eighteenth. I’m glad for it as I was worried she would be late and arrive on Christmas. She was right on time though, as if she knew my concerns. I think it would have been fun, but harder later, not really feeling like she had her own day, you know?”

“Yeah. I can understand that, especially as it’s a day nearly everyone celebrates.”

“I try to make it a big deal for her.”

“I’m sure you do,” he said with a smile and she smiled back.

“We do two advent calendars. A Christmas one we buy, with chocolate treats inside, and the other is a birthday one with little gifts for her every day. Building up to the big day and the gifts she will get.”

He smiled again and shook his head. Her whole face lit up when she spoke about Ivy and it was endearing to watch.

“It’s just little gifts: new crayons, Play-Doh, these little squishy animal toys she likes, a book, and socks. That girl loves socks. She probably has more pairs of socks than anyone.”

“Really?” he laughed and she nodded.

“It started when she was about three, when she was more aware of her clothes and what she liked. She was drawn to socks and always wanted to wear them, no matter the season. She loves them.”

“That’s really cute.”

“And inexpensive, which is nice. I can get her socks in dollar bins, or spring for something more expensive and she would never know the difference. It’s great.” He laughed again and she smiled. “She’s really into knee socks right now. I usually put her in tights under her pants when it’s cold, but… she had an accident one day trying to get them and her pants off and they had to dip into the emergency clothes the school asks us to send. She was very embarrassed and cried when she told me about it. So, knee socks are much better to avoid any other catastrophes.”

“Poor kid. I completely understand,” he said, remembering a time when he was younger and the same thing had happened to him. His teacher always had a box of extra clothes in the classroom for mishaps. She was extremely kind and kept his situation private, but it had still been an embarrassing moment for him. “Knee socks are a better choice. And more fun for her, I’m sure.”

“Definitely.” She glanced at her phone and then looked at him. “I have seven minutes and I need to get back.”

“Okay.” He smiled and she began to eat more of her sandwich. “Hey, would you want to go get a tree after your shift?”

Covering her mouth with one hand, she chewed and raised her eyebrows. Swallowing hard, she continued covering her mouth and swallowed again.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Mind? Not at all.”

Swallowing once more, she nodded, reaching for a napkin to wipe her mouth.

“I’d like that. Last year we had a fake tree and it was good but…”

“No, a real tree would be better.”

“I would like that very much. As long as you’re sure.”

“More than sure.”

“Then it’s a date,” she said with a smile and he grinned.

“I’ll be right here when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” she said and he nodded, happy to once again be spending time with her outside of the diner.

#alternate universe #the x files #xf fanfic #new in town #new friendship #diners #holidays #modern setting #getting to know each other #sharing stories #making plans

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catboygirlboss · 7 months

Note

2, 8, 9, 22 with elsie, Aidan, and keith

2: Can they take care of a plant? What about a pet? What about a child?

Elsie: plant, possibly. i could definitely see them having a succulent or two, maybe a cactus. maybe they’d forget to water it every now and then but other than that they’d do well. a pet, yes, they have a cat; a sphinx named stinky (after the animal crossing villager). they’ve also owned rats in the past and did pretty well with them! a child… not in the present moment, but once they get to a better mental state then absolutely. right now it would be too big a commitment but give them a few years

Aidan: a plant, uhhh good question LMAO i mean he’s an earthmancer so you’d think so but it’s aidan… would he care enough to take care of a plant… it’s possible but god i don’t know kajdjdkf. a pet, yeah, he does have a chihuahua named cujo, and xe does a good job caring for her. cujo is aidans one and only soft spot, like nothing else in this world matters except her. a child, absolutely the fuck not LMAO like he’s not one of those people who hates kids or whatever like he’s fine with kids but xe’s more of a grouchy drunk uncle than a full on full time parent

Keith: plant, probably not. he would forgeg. pet, yeah he takes care of his pit bull, helena (named after the mcr song) really well, but a small pet? god no lmao he doesn’t have the attention span to remember to clean the habitat (i don’t use the word cage, personally, it feels wrong on my tongue idk). he’d love to have a pair of rabbits but he probably shouldn’t lmao. a child, surprisingly, yes! he was such a substitute dad to his sister veronica that he has a general idea of how to care for kids, and he really wants to be a dad so he’d put in the work and research and whatnot to make sure he does it right

8: Do complex puzzles intrigue or frustrate them?

Elsie: definitely intrigue, but up to a certain point. they can be patient for maybe ten minutes before being like “fuck this shit” kajddkkfkf

Aidan: oh he gets so fucking frustrated lmao he has the patience of a… creature with very little patience. xe’s impatient is what im saying kskdkdkf

Keith: keith has like. all the patience in the fucking world. he spent probably an entire month, maybe more, trying to solve a rubick’s cube without help. he was determined to solve it himself. he eventually worked out the math involved and once it clicked he solved it in… idk an hour? how long do rubick’s cubes take ive never solved one LMAO

9: Do they empathize with non-sentient things (dolls, plants, books…)?

my hatred for the word empathy aside-

Elsie: they’re canonically posic! which stands for “perception of object sentience, individuality, and consciousness”. basically they perceive inanimate objects as having some form of sentience. not necessarily every object, but any object! so yeah basically lmao it’s especially prevalent in objects like stuffed animals, porcelain dolls, figurines, and technology (computers, handheld devices, stuff like that). their companion is a pink 3ds! it’s covered in stickers :33

Aidan: there’s only one object he connects with in that way, and it’s xyr grandfathers flask. aidan loved his grandfather, even if xe doesn’t remember him well now (he died when aidan was five, almost six). he feels like the flask, in some way, contains his grandfathers essence? not literally but. sentimentally. this is the flask

Keith: he doesn’t consciously do so, but he’ll say shit like “i have to buy this mug, it’s the last one on the shelf and it’s lonely :(“ in all sincerity. he also loves collecting things to add to the object “family” as he puts it. he collects so much shit. especially the tabs on cans of monster energy. but that’s not so much a love of objects thing that’s just a Keith Thing

22: Do they like being called pet names? Do they call other people pet names? What’s their go-to?

Elsie: being called pet names, it honestly depends on the person. elsie needs to trust you hardcore before you can call them pet names. and they don’t really use pet names cos it feels unnatural in a way

Aidan: if you call him anything other than aidan xe will cut you. searra calls him dan as a way of antagonizing xem. he doesn’t care for it

Keith: his girlfriend rosita calls him pet names in spanish 🥰 cariño and mi sol are the most common, but she also loves calling him príncipe, amorcito, stuff like that. keith has been learning spanish and he’s… trying. he’s at about my level. so. barely okay! lmao and he loves calling rosita pet names, and tries to sound as sappy and cheesy as humanly possible, like intentionally vomit inducing. think “cutie patootie” but like times a million. “cutesy shmoopsie pie with a cherry on top”. it drives rosita insane and he weaponizes this

#the element trials #elsie delmont #aidan bellcamp #keith manchester

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lesbicosmos · 2 years

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heartstopper episode 5 thoughts

-this is why me and my friends don't play monopoly, it would end in chaos. also it's boring.

-elle is so goddamn pretty in this scene i am so in love with her oh my

-slightly unrelated but i need charlie's owl mug like rn

-honestly the amount these two flirt in form, how nobody else figured it out i have no clue. guys ur meant to be being subtle 😭

-tao's comebacks >>>

-"do you like this girl" "well...her dog died." HIS MUMS FACE IS TOO FUNNY OLIVIA COLMAN I LOVE YOU

-like there was ever any doubt who nick would choose between charlie and imogen

-isaac casually reading radio silence like this isn't giving me an existential crisis over whether time travel exists in this universe bc that book literally mentions nick and charlie and is set like 3 years in the future

-once again, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE BEING SUBTLE GUYS IF U WANT NO ONE TO KNOW STOP GIVING EACH OTHER HEART EYES IN PUBLIC 😭

-**insert tao looking tiny in the doorway in the bathroom scene in the comic**

-also moment of appreciation for elle's outfit, her style is everything and i'm in love with her (yes im gonna bring up that every time i mention her, i'm in love.)

-nick looks legitimately terrified of tao and i don't blame him (also the bloopers of this scene are <3333)

-i need to know the context for why charlie's scared of the dance machine.

-nick apologising and explaining the imogen situation and charlie completely understanding just shows how much they care about each other and how much they communicate. nick could not be less like ben if he tried

-the way nick says he didn't have time to go out and buy anything yet still had time to put so much care into that frame and he definitely panicked over whether he chose the right photo or put the stickers in the right place. this mf just wanted to be a disaster romantic and i love him for it

-subtle detail i noticed: the way nick's hand shakes slightly when he moves it to the back of charlie's neck when they kiss, he's so nervous about kissing him in public but also really wants to do it

-has/will nick ever beat charlie at mario kart? probably not

-that moment between tao and elle and the way she looks at him i love them so much

-i love the scene between nick and imogen, i really want them to be best friends in season 2. she's so understanding even if she doesn't fully understand exactly what nick's going through, and the way she doesn't pry or continue to try and get him to date her, she just accepts it and moves on. also nick was so brave for talking to imogen about it in general. i also love how she makes a joke out of it when they're with harry and doesn't say why they actually didn't go out because she knew harry would make fun and ask questions. just ... imogen heaney <333

-i do have to say im kinda mad about i want to be with you by chloe moriondo being played at the end of this episode after the nick and imogen scene because it's such a nick/charlie song in the comics, hoping it gets reused in later seasons in one of their scenes

#im an imogen apologist idc #i dont even need to apologise she did nothing wrong #shes just a teen girl with a crush who got over it when she found out he didnt feel the same #also the whole of charlie's birthday party brings me joy #heartstopper #heartstopper liveblog #heartstopper netflix #nick and charlie #imogen heaney #tao and elle

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forasecondtherewedwon · 2 years

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Lucky Penny Benjamin

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/Penny Benjamin Rating: E Word Count: 2534

Summary: Get over me already, her expression suggests. You don’t make it easy, his eyes say back. He might keep turning up here, but it’s her who never locks the front door.

When Maverick walks into the Hard Deck in a few hours, its owner will be sexy enough that he’ll wonder whether she’d still go for him, and familiar enough that he’ll be certain she’d never go for anyone else. One of these things will be true. Neither of these things will he connect with the arrogant young aviator across the bar, buying beers on Mav’s dime and flirting openly—harmlessly, Mav will think—with Penny Benjamin.

—

Jake tries the door and it’s not locked. That’s invitation enough. He’s never been inside the Hard Deck when it’s empty before and he likes it, being able to look around and take in this boozy corner of his old stomping grounds. Oh, the nights he’s had here. The pool table triumphs. The chill instructors who said yes when he naïvely goaded them into matching him shot for shot. The women who would practically strip their panties off right there at the bar and press them into his hand at the sight of a uniform and a smile. The ones who were a little harder to get.

He strides across the floor unhurriedly, taking in the gleaming mugs hanging from the ceiling, the peeling, overlapping stickers on the walls. I LEFT MY LIVER IN SAN DIEGO. SAVE A JET, RIDE A PILOT. Damn, it’s good to be back.

From the storage room, a voice calls out, “Jimmy? I told you I wouldn’t need you in ’til later.”

Now Jake moves with purpose, footfalls making the worn wood floor squeak and groan as he crosses the bar. Like the vain bastard he is, he pauses to touch his hair and smooth his shirt, and then he steps into the storage room’s doorway and leans his shoulder against the frame.

“Hi, Penny.”

She’s crouched, rearranging inventory, and flips her hair over her shoulder as she turns her head to look up at him in alarm. His eyebrows twitch upward and her expression changes from surprise to a fond of course it’s you look that widens his grin.

“Jake Seresin,” she says.

“As handsome as ever.”

“You don’t wait for compliments, do you?”

“Who has the time?”

“Help me up.” She sticks her hand out and he steps into the room with her, offering a sturdy grip and a smooth tug that brings Penny to her feet. He loves how she smiles and fixes her hair, still flustered by him. Still gorgeous. He doesn’t release her hand until she slips her fingers gently from his hold.

“Business on North Island?” Penny asks lightly.

“The one place I never mind being recalled to. We don’t need to talk about that. Tell me how you’re doing.”

He stands close to her, rests his elbow on a shelf loaded with bottles of rum. Penny crosses her arms and smiles.

“Things are good. This place is surviving.”

“You still enjoying the life of a barkeep?”

“It’s not so bad. It’s a good place to run into old friends.” She smiles meaningfully. “How long has it been?”

“Hard to say when you always look just as beautiful as last time. But if memory serves,” he goes on, blowing past the compliment without missing the way it makes her blush, “it was about eighteen months ago. I was on-base for six days—”

“Five nights,” Penny finishes.

“You remember.”

“How could I forget when, um…” She tilts her face down and shakes her head with sudden shyness.

Jake is happy to walk the rest of the way down memory lane on her behalf.

“When I told you that first night that I’d give you another orgasm for every night I was here.”

Penny tips her head back now, smiling at the ceiling. Her hair swishes again and he wants to bury his hands in it. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“Night five…” she starts. She meets his eye with a conspiratorial smirk. “Night five was something.”

“Yes, it was. Although, night two stands out as well. Didn’t we… here? I recall a bathroom stall.”

Penny laughs and nods.

“Thank god for staff washrooms with doors that lock,” she says. “I went back out to the bar afterwards and one of my regulars said I looked rushed off my feet.”

“Your face wouldn’t have been that red if you hadn’t kept holding your breath.”

“I was trying to be quiet,” she reminds him, her green eyes glinting with challenge and mischief.

“You want me to apologize for being that good?” Jake smiles arrogantly. “I still am, by the way.”

“Pass along my congratulations to your girlfriend.”

She bends and hefts the crate of bottles she was counting earlier, sliding it back onto a shelf. Just when he starts believing he’s got her wrapped around his finger, she shows him it’s the other way around, shows him she’s not some easy conquest. He still remembers the very first time. Flirting with her all night and lingering beyond last call. The look she gave him when the bar was empty, how she left the door open behind her when she walked out onto the beach barefoot. The stiff zipper of her soft jeans, his fingers sinking into her over and over, her closed eyes and parted lips in the moonlight, coming so fast when she nudged him onto his back and blew him like a goddamn dream.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he says.

“You’ll find somebody one of these days, Jake,” Penny assures him. “Somebody closer to your own age.”

“I thought we were past the age thing. If you get to say that, I get to call you a MILF.”

“I banned that.”

“So put up a sign,” Jake volleys back, grinning.

“I would, but you wouldn’t read it.”

“Well, my learning style’s always been much more hands-on.”

Penny turns to face him. Does he need to ask if this is happening?

“Leave the door open,” she says, eyebrow twitching up saucily.

Apparently, he doesn’t need to ask.

“You always did like things a little risky,” he says.

She cocks her head knowingly and notes, “I’m not the only one.”

Jake goes to her and sneaks an arm around her waist. Locking their lips, he walks her back to the wall opposite the storage room door. She’s still fiery, biting his lip to make him groan, panting in his ear when he steps into her space and drops his mouth to her neck. Her hands find his hips with confidence and pull him against her. Soon, he’s grinding into her, and maybe he shouldn’t have worn his uniform because these pants feel a little cramped when he has a hard-on, but whenever he’s able to grace Penny with his presence, he wants to be unmistakable. When he leaves again, he wants to be unforgettable.

She undoes his pants and pushes her hand into his boxer briefs, stroking his shaft firmly enough to elicit a manly grunt. Penny doesn’t mess around. Jake grabs her ass and insinuates one of his thighs between hers. Though he’s never seen her out on the water, he’s heard her mention owning a boat; she rubs herself against his thigh like she’s riding the rhythmic swell of the waves out on the bay, smiling tantalizingly the whole time. God, he’s stiff. Leaking into her palm when she cups the head of his dick before swiping her hand back down. It’s amazing to feel her against him, her fingers so soft where his are always rough with calluses, the heat at the crux of her thighs—but he'd also rather that were his hand pleasuring her clit, his cock she were riding. Irresistible gentleman that he is, he came prepared with a condom in his wallet.

“Wrap it up, flyboy.”

Why would he want any other woman when this one can read his mind?

“Don’t you worry, Penny,” he tells her, feeling for his wallet, slipping the condom free, tossing the wallet to the storage room floor. “I know what I’m doing.”

“So far.”

Jake grins at her taunt, then begins undressing in a hurry. Systematic. Efficient. Shoes, pants, underwear—socks too, because he feels ridiculous leaving them on. Penny unbuttons her jeans and he hooks his fingers into her beltloops, sinking to his knees as he draws the denim down her legs. She forces her shoes off and steps out of her jeans, and he’s there, kissing the inside of her knees, nuzzling his face against her inner thigh.

“Jake…” she says with warmth and warning. “We can’t be long. The door…”

He kisses between her thighs over her underwear and flicks his gaze up to hers.

“If there’s no danger,” he reasons, “you can’t call it a risk.”

Penny moans as he licks her through lace. She’s always been deceptive like this—with her slouchy jeans and her fishermen sweaters and La Perla’s finest hidden underneath. He turns his head and bites down on her thigh, pressing his thumb up against her clit instead. Her hips press back. Jake gets to his feet, continuing to rub as he looks her in the eye with the only type of expression he ever wears in these scenarios: smug.

“You still want me?” he asks cockily. If he’s arrogant enough, she’ll never see him genuinely wondering.

Her hand steals into the front of her underwear, displacing his as she takes over from the other side of the delicate material, massaging herself with light, sure contact. Her sexy smile dispels any fear he may have of being redundant; this isn’t her demonstrating his superfluousness, it’s a little something extra. Penny knows—god, how she knows—that he has a special penchant for watching a woman touch herself. Jake swallows. A muscle in his jaw flexes as he refuses the call of his cock to be taken in a fast, rough fist. They both know he wants to, and they both know he loves this more: holding out. Being teased. Awaiting permission.

“Do it for me,” she invites.

Jake crowds close to kiss her, trapping his cock between them.

“Spoiled little rich girl,” he breathes.

“You’re slightly more fun than inventory,” Penny murmurs in response.

He can’t shrink his smile as he kisses her again and again, her wriggling her panties down, him swathing his cock in ribbed latex. For her pleasure. He hikes her leg up his hip and she folds her calf around the back of his thigh, guiding him close. Before Jake pushes inside, he brushes her hair back and cups her face in his palm. Get over me already, her expression suggests. You don’t make it easy, his eyes say back. He might keep turning up here, but it’s her who never locks the front door.

Jake slips the head of his cock into her, then returns his fingertips to her clit, rubbing as he edges further inside. Penny’s body welcomes him with a slippery heat that has him pinning her to the wall with his hips for his own support. He grips her thigh and widens his stance, then pumps upward in short jerks that make her huff out her breaths.

“J-Jake.”

“Fuck, you feel good.”

He keeps working, keeps pushing, and the pumping becomes pounding, Penny’s panted exhalations rising and shredding in the air. A jet punching through clouds. When he rolls his hips to catch her clit in the action, her hand shoots out to grip one of the shelves. For the rest of the time he’s fucking her, bottles rattle to his left. The reckless majority of him wants the booze to vibrate off the shelf and turn into a sticky, glass-flecked puddle on the floor. He wants to know how much he’s worth, what she’s willing to sacrifice to the sexual gratification he swoops in here to bestow.

“How we doin’?” Jake checks in, all but gasping the words because she’s squeezing him from all directions: clamping down around his dick, digging her fingers into his shoulder, tensing her calf as it climbs to his hip. It really opens her up to him and he takes everything she’s offering, driving deep. For her, he pleads with himself not to come yet.

“Close,” Penny spits out.

He grins, drawing back from quick, sporadic kisses up her neck, and sees her matching his smile. She’s always been so faithful about keeping her eyes open when she’s almost there. He never could’ve imagined the colour green looking boiling-hot before he saw the eyes of Penny Benjamin as she approaches orgasm.

“Come on, then,” he grits out. “Door’s open. Chop chop.”

She laughs and then she groans, clinging to him, clattering the shelved bottles, as he gives her a long stroke accompanied by the grinding of his pelvis against her clit. Her shoulders shimmy involuntarily and he holds her up, even more full of himself than she is.

Penny’s still moving through her climax—and it is a sight for his sore, California-deprived eyes—when he holds her close with his hands on her hip and thigh, thrusting hard.

“Don’t… know,” he pants. “…how… long… I’ll be here.” He switches to shorter, jerkier thrusts out of necessity; he’s damn close to the edge. “How’s about we reinstate the old pact? You wanna come like this again tomorrow?”

She must see the need in his eyes, the layers of it. But she’s so goddamn cool, eyelids lowered halfway, little smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, loose-limbed in his arms.

“Twice,” she reminds him, gaze following the fingers she trails possessively down his throat.

“Twice,” Jake confirms. Sweating. Bucking. About to be overtaken by a sensation of tingly goodness.

“Permission granted.”

He lets himself fall forward into her, coming with a hot surge. He closes his eyes and takes deep breaths of the not-quite-forgotten scent of her hair.

—

It’s easy to be generous when somebody else is buying. Jake offers to go to the bar again and again, making sure every one of his fine colleagues has a beer in his or her hand at all times. He’s happy to tap this interloper dry—the older guy who came in and didn’t follow the rules and is now wetting the whistle of every person in this bar.

Didn’t follow the rules.

Speaking of, Jake’s assuming his agreement with Penny is out the window. The Hard Deck is filling up, and yet she goes back to that guy over and over. Probably with a smile, since Jake has a sightline on the man smiling at her. Jake can only see Penny from the back, except when he goes up to order more beers. She’s why he goes; it’s so fucking small of him to feel jealousy over his fuckbuddy’s wandering eye, but he keeps needing her to turn away from that other guy. Look at me, he thinks. Here I am. Remember?

Distractedly, he reclaims the beer he just put in Bob’s hand and tilts his head back for a long swallow, deaf to Bob’s complaints, deaf to Phoenix’s threats in defence of the WSO to whom she seems to have pledged immediate and thorough loyalty. Jake puts his back to the bar.

Yeah. It’s good to be back.

#my writing #Top Gun: Maverick #Jake 'Hangman' Seresin #Penny Benjamin #Hangman x Penny #Jake Seresin #Top Gun: Maverick fanfiction #Hangman Seresin #Top Gun: Maverick spoilers

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