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charliemwrites · 3 months

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As promised some time ago: Gaz!

No CW for this one. Just fluff and care!

The new house is… well, you don’t dislike it. It’s beautiful, already renovated while you were busy selling the old house. Just new, unfamiliar. You’re unaccustomed to the noises it makes, the shadows it casts, the echoes off the walls.

You’re not too proud to admit (to yourself and your dogs) that you’re a bit of a chicken the first couple weeks. Too many nights watching spooky media about people living in walls or stalking new tenants — despite Skipper’s best efforts. So you keep one or more of the dogs with you at all times, fingers in their fur and lights on as you go. Ghost has been especially tolerant, leaning against your leg when the sun goes down and the house feels too strange.

You’ve always been grateful for the peace of mind that four huge wolf-dogs brings, but never more than now. With several sets of teeth surrounding your bed and guarding your locked doors, they’ve made the transition so much easier on your nerves.

The new forest behind the house is also some cause for concern. The first day you brought them home, you went out by yourself for quick inspection of the yard and immediate area. Sharp-eyed looking for glass, metal, or anything else dubious.

You came back to four extremely grumpy pups and were basically bullied out of leaving them alone again. Skipper was especially huffy that night.

But things feel like they’re beginning to settle. You’ve gotten a bigger couch, bigger floor cushions. There’s a second story to this new house — or more of a half-floor really. A loft? It consists of the master bedroom, master bathroom, and a sort of open-spaced landing that you’re using as a satellite collection zone for toys.

Sometimes, when you’re on the couch, you’ll catch a bit of movement and get spooked by one of the boys staring from the railing that overlooks the den. Have fussed at wagging Johnny twice now for it.

Still, the transition to your new home has been as smooth as you could ask for with four giant, protective dogs. You miss the old place a bit; have the irrational fear that you’re going to miss another displaced dog in need of a home, but you try not to think about it.

Maybe you should have thought about it a little more.

One evening, you let the boys out for their pre-bed potty. There’s a cup of chamomile tea in your hand, a blanket wrapped tight around your shoulders. Winter will be setting in soon. It’s already cold enough to set your teeth on edge. Never mind that it’s been raining all day, only just letting up to light patter at sunset.

Commotion at the edge of the (much larger) yard catches your attention. All of your boys seem to be gathered around something. They’re not barking or growling, and from the dim porch light, you don’t see hackles raised but still. Anything that catches their attention is worth investigating.

Cursing under your breath, you set your mug aside, slip into some shoes, and snatch up your phone for the flashlight. It’s only when you’re halfway there that you remember to pray that it’s not something dead. Or dying. Or creepy.

“Please don’t let this be a spooky doll or something,” you whisper to yourself.

Skipper must hear you, because his head pops up. He doesn’t… look concerned. But he’s a dog, how would he know that something in the yard is of human concern?

He trots away from their little congregation to meet you, almost like he’s escorting you to whatever they’re gathered around. You realize why when the flashlight illuminates a ball of soaked fur.

“Oh,” you breathe, “oh no…”

You gently nudge Konig aside to kneel down, a dry sob bubbling up in the back of your throat when you hear a quiet, miserable mew. A pair of brilliant green eyes squint and shy from the light, wide and sad.

“Oh, baby,” you coo. “Please come here. C’mon.”

You slowly, carefully extend a hand. Palm up, just a couple fingers. You’re not as familiar with cats anymore, but you remember enough to know that there‘ll be no scooping it up, even if it needs help. It’ll have to come to you of its own accord.

Relief floods you when you get the briefest cursory sniffle, and then the kitty is bumping its head against your hand for a scritch. You take a moment to pet what you can, heart breaking a bit with each shiver in the cold.

You keep coaxing it closer, gentle words and patient petting, getting bolder with your touch. When it’s finally close enough, the faintest purr rattling in its chest, you decide to try.

Apart from a nervous glance, the cat remarkably tolerant about letting you wrap your now-wet blanket around it, then scooping it up.

“Oof, you’re a big kid, huh?” You mutter, pausing to get a better hold. The darkness and hunkering down to preserve body heat was deceptive. This cat feels huge. “That’s alright, I’m used to it.”

You breathe a huge sigh when you enter the house again. It’s toasty inside — or at least it feels that way after sitting in the cold rain for fifteen minutes.

The boys files in after you, politely shaking off at the door before stepping into the mudroom. (Another upgrade you’ve been extremely grateful for.

You pause, try to get your bearings. You’ve got four soaked dogs, one possibly hypothermic cat, and you.

Christ, sometimes you wish you had an extra pair of hands.

“Okay. Let’s get the heater first.”

It’s already going, so you just turn it up a bit more, warm enough to start drying everyone. Then you go to the cupboard, sparing an arm from your oversized bundle to extract a towel.

You cross back to the heater and sit down, gently nestling your cat-burrito into the well of your legs.

The same big green eyes blink up at you, another mewl comes from it.

“Hi,” you croon, “isn’t that better already? Much warmer in here.”

You present the towel for inspection, let it sniff and decide it’s non-threatening before gently wiping it along the clumped fur. The dogs, to your surprise, don’t crowd to investigate. Skipper stops by to give the cat a sniff, before ultimately flopping down against your hip. But the other three arrange themselves around you, watching, but giving you and the kitty some space.

Remarkably thoughtful of them, and you tell them as much, praising their good behavior. The kitty, in the meantime, just… stares. It’s been a long time since you interacted with one, but you don’t remember your grandma’s tabby being so…

“Can I help you, little one?” You ask, grinning when it blinks at you slowly. You brush a finger under its chin, grinning when its eyes go half-lidded and nearly cross. “You’re worse than my Johnny boy with the staring.”

You receive a huff for that and laugh softly, making kissy noises at him until his tail thumps against the absorbent floor mat.

The cat is back to staring, though, ears up. You hum and keep up the half-scratching, half-drying technique until its fur starts to fluff up and you can take proper stock of the animal you’ve just rescued.

You weren’t kidding about it being big. Biggest cat you’ve ever seen — you’d almost think it was wild if not for the sweet face. You’re sure you might have seen the breed somewhere before…

Maine coon, maybe? Or… Siberian something or other? It’s fluffy, that’s for sure. But even without all the fluff that’s beginning to poof out like a dirty cotton ball, it’s a big cat. Big enough to be an average dog.

You huff in amusement that more it dries out.

“You look like a little storm cloud,” you giggle. “Well, little being relative.”

You receive a more normal-sounding meow for that. It thrills you that it’s already sounding better. Less sad, for sure.

The purring even start up again, developing into a deep hum like a running motor. It’s instantly soothing, the same way listening to the dogs’ breathing is. It lulls you until you’re nearly dozing sitting up. Only the wet nose of Skipper against your cheek rousing you.

“Jesus, right,” you say, jolting. Take a drowsy look around. All the boys seem dry or mostly dry. The only damp spot left on your new feline friend seems to be the feet, which won’t take much longer. “Let’s get inside proper.”

You lock up the mudroom and turn the heater low again, then urge everyone into the den. The cat doesn’t even hesitate, threading cleverly between your moving legs as you shuffle to the kitchen.

You prep an extra bowl of food and leave it up for the cat where the dogs can’t get it. Give it one last stroke from head to tail before trudging for the bathroom.

Normally, you’d be more concerned about leaving a cat in a house full of dogs. But the boys proved already that they have no interest in hurting the cat, despite the earlier crowding. Figure there are plenty of places to hide if they do make the kitty uncomfortable regardless.

The hot shower only serves to thicken the drowsiness blanketing you, leaving you heavy-lidded and sluggish. You pull the curtain aside to the usual audience of huge eyes, a new pair among them — the cat perched on the bathroom sink.

When you lean to grab your towel, they stick their face close for a sniff and you pause, always patient for curious creatures. When the little nose gets too close to your mouth, you twist and drop a quick peck to its snout before leaning back. The flabbergasted look makes you laugh as you begin toweling off.

“What a funny little thing you are,” you coo. “Would you like to be mind.”

“Mrrrow!”

“Yeah, I made a good first showing, huh?”

You have absolutely zero supplies for a cat, but that’s a problem for tomorrow. Right now, you just want to climb into bed and conk out. Home-making and animal-saving takes a lot out of you.

As always, the furry procession to your room leaves you warm and happy. Johnny always the first to hop into bed, licking your shoulder when you climb in beside him. Konig takes your other side, much more willing to snuggle now that you have the California King mattress to accommodate your pack. Ghost licks at Skipper’s chin in the doorway, then jumps up to lie by your hip, cuddling Johnny.

Skipper comes up last, padding over to receive one last kiss from you before lying by your feet, on the side closest to the door. You’re less concerned about kicking him now with the extra room, and enjoy the heat for your toes.

You almost startle at the soft thump next to your head. Turn and blink to see big green eyes blinking down at you, a purr nearly rattling your brain.

“Oh, hi,” you murmur, “make yourself at home.”

The cat does just that, curling himself onto a pillow and pressing his forehead into your neck. You nearly melt as you flick off the light. It’s warm and quiet and dark, just the breathing of warm bodies and soft tap of rain.

“I love you all so much,” you whisper, fingers threading into Konig’s coat. “My loves.”

The house’s new echoes are still unfamiliar, so it’s just a product of being half-asleep that makes you think you hear voices in the middle of the night.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #1fur1 #dog john mactavish #dog john price #dog konig #dog simon Riley #cat Kyle Garrick #woof woof au

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abrielarnold · 1 year

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"We're here whether you like it or not, and we're not leaving."

Oooough, I reread Something's Wrong with Danny Fenton by @dp-belongs-in-a-hoodie and it's so so so good. Hit me in the feels as much as the first time.

(no one knows, spooky danny, ghost obsessions my beloved)

(also, if you've read SWWDF, please read June, the little oneshot/missing scene. it is very good and tender. I drew fanart for it here a few years ago. The June art is particularly special to me because it was the first fairly complex background i'd drawn that i felt really proud of.)

#ficrecs #somethings wrong with danny fenton #swwdf #tucker foley #sam manson #danny fenton #danny phantom #12 hands 1 face #incredible.#(a welcome reprieve from the danno face. this piece is future proof)#dp-belongs-in-a-hoodie #spooky!danny #no one knows au #abrielart

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korereapers · 6 months

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I collaborated with the amazing @laxi0v0 for a cute little event we made in the scriddler server. This is Laxi's art about the fic I wrote, and HONESTLY HONESTLY i couldn't have asked for a better and more supportive partner. Her art is way better than I would ever dream on writing and honestly, Laxi, I'm so glad it was you bc we vibe a lot about our tastes w this ship.

The fic will be on ao3 later, but here, for you guys, before anyone else:

Jonathan takes a sip out his mug, nicely decorated with a pumpkin, the recipe of the pumpkin spice coffee perfected by him for decades. It’s warm, it tastes like fall, and it’s the start of what Jonathan considers to be the best time of the year.

It started like a small tradition for him, when he finally left home and started studying to become the psychologist he wanted to be. Halloween was to be celebrated, especially for freaks like him, abhorrent creatures that made great-granny’s skin crawl. He was proud of that, in a way. It was his moment, it still is, after all of these years, because he is still a freak, he belongs to this weather and these colors more than he belongs anywhere else. He belongs between ocher leaves and the smell of fog, the rain starting to fall over Gotham, only to leave when it’s summer again. The start of his kingdom, of the time he rules over.

Or it would be, if Edward wasn’t so adamant about going to freaking Starbucks.

He doesn’t get it, not really. A malnourished child from Georgia, surrounded by overworked kids that serve them with the most forced smile when Edward asks, yet again, for the infamous Pumpkin Spice Latte. With ice. Oatmeal milk. Whipped cream.

Jonathan wants to die.

“How is this even supposed to be spooky?”

Edward rolls his eyes, green contact lenses barely moving, as if they were starting to get glued to his irises. Which should be a bad sign, but Jonathan is, yet again, not his boyfriend’s keeper.

“Not everything has to be spooky when this time arrives, Jonathan.”

He kind of dislikes it, when he calls him by his full name. He calls him Jon when they are alone, when they are intimate, when their bodies or their hearts are entwined. He doesn’t like when he calls him Jonathan, because that means that Edward thinks he is being too bitter, complaining too much, a complete prick.

It’s not that he dislikes the stupid PSL, either, but it feels like desecrating one of his oldest traditions, and he feels as if he were betraying himself.

“Don’t you like my recipe, then? Do you dislike it so much we have to come here every single week?”

The cashier smiles at them awkwardly as Edward pays for their order, tipping the young lady generously.

“Do you have to take everything personally? I started getting here when I finally had my own money to spend. Is it that hard to just enjoy it, when I want to share it with you?”

Oh. A tradition. Jonathan distractedly drinks from his thematic glass, but says nothing.

They are really different, Edward and himself. To Edward, spending time and money like this… is almost a love language. It’s a lifestyle that he works hard to keep, having dinner in expensive places, getting coffee every time he can. Sharing it with him, because Jonathan is important to him.

Jonathan may be unable to feel fear, and his brain may be as damaged as Edward’s heart, but guilt still crawls its way into his psyche. It still makes him feel uneasy, because he cares, because he understands the feeling, because he wants to share his recipe with Edward because of the exact same reason.

He touches Edward’s hand when they sit, an apology he doesn’t utter but that can be felt in his irradiated orange eyes.

“I like it when you share time and nourishment with me.”

Edward’s expression softens, a glint of blue under the bright green contact lenses.

“Wow, when did you get emotionally aware?” his mouth says instead, and for a moment, Jonathan understands the Bat and his compulsion to punch him in the mouth.

“I’m a psychologist, Edward.”

“... right,” he mutters, his voice cheeky, still clearly a little mad, his thoughts loud. Jonathan loves that about him, his expression when he is deep in thought, when he is trying to understand something. A puzzle, a new riddle in their lives. “That recipe of yours is really important to you, too, if I’m guessing correctly.”

Jonathan nods, his eyes still on Edward’s, who seems to be feeling a little bit too shy to look at him, knowing that they are having an emotionally vulnerable moment.

“It is. I made it myself and… I want to share it with you.”

Edward does smile a little at that, his voice softer when he speaks.

“Let me try it later. I want to give it the thought and recognition it deserves.”

Jonathan’s thumb caresses Edward’s hand, his smile contagious. Like a well concocted virus.

“I would love to.”

—-------------------------------------------

Edward is pretty sure that he is (very unluckily, by the way) dating the man with the poorest taste in the world. Jonathan seems to think that he is hilarious, dressed in his usual costume, even the needles oozing toxin as he sits quietly on the couch.

There is a thing about him that Edward has always loved: how he becomes a different person when the mask is on.

They used to talk about it, back in the day, when they used to share a room in the Asylum. Jonathan felt naked without his mask, his expression dull and almost tense, devoid of what made him himself. Edward, at least, has managed to make those expressions change, the real Jon emerging from behind whatever aloof façade he tries to put on to protect himself, to pretend he is a regular human being and not the freak that makes his heart melt.

He must surely be smiling behind the mask, then. Edward can almost feel him vibrating in excitement, like a small child, and in a way, he kind of is. A reclaimed childhood, the enjoyment of a joy he wasn’t allowed to feel. He can understand that.

Still, the poorest fucking choice of a Halloween costume.

“Really, Jon? The most original idea, I have to say.”

Jonathan looks at him, and he can feel his piercing eyes even behind the mask, the expression of a predator, so dangerous it makes his face flush a little. Birds of a feather, both of them. The Scarecrow sighs, deeply, the sound distorted behind the mask. It’s creepy, he has to admit, which is probably… kind of the point.

“Like you’re one to talk, Herlock Sholmes.”

Edward gasps, indignant. His Poirot costume is nothing to be laughed at.

“Excuse me?!”

He can almost feel the smile behind the mask, because Edward knows him, he knows Jonathan is an avid reader, he knows the difference between Agatha Christie and Arthur Conan Doyle, for fuck's sake. He is doing this on purpose, to rile him up. He always is.

Edward's mind goes somewhere else, somewhere private. Somewhere where he is indeed riled up, and Jonathan touches his cheek, looking up at his face from behind the mask, Edward sitting on his lap, while long, dangerous hands go up his thigh, eyes hungry-

The doorbell rings. Edward goes back to reality, Jonathan's eyes on him as he moves towards the entrance, the tips of his ears surely blushing.

When he opens the door, he has to look down, because damn, kids sure look tinier these days. He cannot remember to be this short, this innocent, this…

Happy.

He feels Jonathan's chin on his shoulder, almost jumping in place because the man is silent like a ghost, no matter how eager he is to take part in the holiday.

One of the kids is wearing a Batman costume, and Edward tries his hardest not to roll his eyes, with better or worse success. Another kid is dressed as Harley Quinn, what makes him wonder if these parents are in need of any kind of psychological help. The youngest, a child dressed as Wonder Woman, looks at them with badly hidden mischief, and Edward feels tempted to just close the door.

"Trick or treat!" They ask in unison, and before Edward can answer, Jonathan drops a bag in front of them, full of who knows what, but the kids don't ask.

Such blissful ignorance.

"Thank you Mister Holmes! Mister Scarecrow!" The girl dressed up as Batman says, and the one dressed as Wonder Woman purses her lips in disgust.

"Poirot's moustache isn't like that. You're a fake."

The kid dressed as Harley Quinn laughs in response, taking the bag of candy and running away with Wonder Woman. The one dressed as Batman follows who Edward believes to be her sisters, and he blissfully thanks that they don't have any children.

"Please tell me the bag is full of drugs."

Jonathan chuckles a little, his arms around Edward's waist.

"Hershey's," is everything he says, his sudden lack of malice and evil intent a headache for Edward.

"Oh, Jon. Are you going soft on me?"

Jonathan's smile can be felt in the air, a predator, a killer awaiting their next victim.

"Me? Oh, darlin'..." he whispers against Edward's ear, his distorted voice making him shudder in anticipation. "Never."

#scriddler #my stuff #and laxi's #dc #riddler #scarecrow #edward nygma #edward nigma #edward nashton #jonathan crane #i love you laxi.... really

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sanctus-ingenium · 1 year

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another one of these posts lol... sketches vs final. not much changed for these ones, i kind of went into them with a very solid mental image already in my head. all of these were done start to finish in procreate

thoughts below the cut

horse fight .... this is based off a really really beautiful sky i saw while driving home one evening. i'm really proud of getting the colours i saw exactly right, this kind of greenish yellow fading to dark blue and with grey clouds low over it that looked very dark against the yellow by the horizon, but very pale against the dark blue.

i thought it would be a cool backdrop to draw a scene i've been thinking about for a while. The little cartoony horses are there to provide some tonal whiplash but also because these are two immortal shapeshifters who can fight violently without it being a huge deal. the little horses represent the actual gravity of the fight (that is, kind of a slap fight between two drama queens) which contrasts with the visuals of two animals brutally tearing at eachother. also i got the two horses at the bottom mixed up, Pascal is the one with the skinny plumed tail and Macha has a more traditional horse tail and i put them on the wrong sides.

i had a LOT of trouble shading this. i didn't want the horses to be too shiny but that meant a much lower contrast in shading and even with my screen brightness turned up i could barely see what i was doing. but i wanted it to read as realistic. mixed results i think. if i did it again i might try a different shading style because this one didn't really do it for me

spooky van!!! the post i deleted by accident (rip. i will repost it soon). this is a picture of the barrow (the field) taking a different shape - in this case a cool van. the van contains every single thing the field does (including the human victims that get lost in there...) but compressed down into a manageable shape. the void is Pascal because the field is inside him. he did this for his human bf to provide novel way to travel through the Otherworld. don't ask how this works like, spatially, because the answer is: i don't do hard magic systems in this setting

i loooove shading things with pencil hatching and i really like contrasting it with smooth colours/shading so that's mainly what i did here. it was simple enough. the van is of course heavily referenced and i wish i had been able to stylise it a little more.. maybe next time. i want to draw a kind of cutaway illustration of the van showing exterior and interior (like an old blueprint schematic), which i might use as a cover for the book/comic/whatever but that will require a very intimidating level of precision so i think i'll work up to that.

RUA magazine. this is my third time doing a rua magazine cover (first time posting tho). this is an in-universe magazine distributed throughout the Otherworld to an audience of fairies. in the sketch, the illustation was originally the King of Pentacles tarot card (the pentacle being the disco ball). but i decided to make a different King of Pentacles card for him instead, since I try hard to move away from symmetrical composition for the tarot cards (it's boring). so i repurposed this one into another magazine cover. like i said Pascal is a self-absorbed attention whore and has a habit of giving bullshit interviews just so that he can be on the cover as much as possible. he dresses like this all the time (the year is 2017)

the disco ball took 15 years off my life and it's not even the first disco ball i've drawn! i finished my actual king of pentacles card before i finished the rua cover sketch, so i can show u this

which is much better even if i did reference so heavily that it isn't exactly stylised. but this card needs some serious revision before i even think about posting it. i'm just not happy with his face.

original intent was for it be mysterious with emphasis on the neon lights but it ended up far more suggestive than i expected. that's life!

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learnyouabiology · 2 years

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Fun Fact: Oilbirds are Basically BatBirds!

I want to talk about these amazing birds:

I love them. I mean, look at their big, shiny eyes! NO ONE can say that they aren’t cute as hell!

The other reason I love these animals is because they’re basically what happens when evolution tries to make a bat out of a bird.

These little guys are known as oilbirds (Steatornis caripensis), and are also called guácharo (and also several other things, because they are found in South America, plus Trinidad & Tobago, which all have INCREDIBLE language diversity).

Oilbirds are nocturnal, flying around the forests of South America at night looking for fruit to eat. They also live colonially in caves, which they navigate using echolocation.

So, to review:

(I’m making my Generic Bats a very generic fruit bat, for the record).

Oilbirds are the only birds with this combination of traits, which I think is pretty cool of them! Why are they so much like bats? Basically, when different types of animals evolve under similar selective pressures, they often evolve the same features! This is called convergent evolution, and wow I talk about it a lot on this blog! It turns out that nocturnal animals that live in caves and eat fruit can sometimes benefit from traits like these!

(they’re, like... spooky-cute. Cute-spooky? Either way, I like them a lot)

So, if these birds are flying around at night, how do they stop themselves from flying into things while searching for that tasty, tasty fruit?

Well, in the forest, they mostly rely on their AMAZING night vision (which is another trait they share with bats, fyi). That is why they have such big, adorable eyes, which has a lot of light-sensing cells called rods. They actually hold a record for the density of the rods in their eyes: one million per square millimetre. That is the highest density of any known vertebrate. It’s about 6x denser than the rods found in human eyes!

...still cute

Their amazing vision allows them to see very well in low light, which is how they navigate the South American jungles at night, searching for food under the moon and stars. That said, their vision just doesn’t cut it when it comes to flying in the caves they call home. Why? Well, caves are dark as hell, and even the best night-vision can’t do anything for you when there’s no light at all. Plus, flying into cave walls/ cliff faces hurts, so it’s good to be extra sure you’re not flying into solid rock!

So how do they find their way around these dark caves? Well, they use something very unusual for birds: echolocation!

Oilbirds are one of only a few species of birds that are known to use echolocation (the others are a few species of the closely-related swiflets (Collocaliini), but I HAVE DECIDED TODAY IS FOR THE OILBIRDS im sorry, swiflets, ilu2).

Look at them, not flying into rocks! I’m so proud (˃̣̣̥ ◡ ˂̣̣̥)

Also, a bonus fact, because idk where to fit this but I MUST mention it:

They have little whiskers around their beaks (which are technically called “rictal bristles”, but I’m going to call them “whiskers” because I like that word better). These whiskers are basically used to feel things that they have in and around their mouth, helping them find, manipulate, and eat their tasty fruit!

...moustache...

This has been Fun Fact Friday!

#science #birds #biology #sciblr #science side of tumblr #STEM #adhd in STEM #zoology #ecology #convergent evolution #fun fact friday #fun facts #oilbirds #I know i've been MIA for a while #my reason is that clinical depression CAME FOR ME #mental illness strikes again!#im not really better but im trying to get myself to experience joy by looking at cool birds #i also touched some trees and am in therapy and have new meds

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banquetwriter · 7 days

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hellooo! can i request johnnie x reader, where his tweets are about a song but the fans think they broke up because y/n also had a suspicious tweet like him!! thank you i hope you have a wonderful day!

୨୧ Assumptions ୨୧

pairing: Johnnie Guilbert ♡︎ Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ short (I'm sorry) fluff tbh

summary: ʚ the fans get the wrong idea when you and Johnnie tweet lyrics of his new song ɞ

Words: 1299

An: this is short but honestly it's so sweet and I loved doing this!!

You made sure to keep balance with the plate and cup in your hands as you approached your office room. You had finally convinced Johnnie to start editing in your office since he moved in. You both even set up a little recording spot for him complete with a spooky background.

You walked up to the door and knocked against it slightly using your foot. After a moment or two the door opened with a slightly worn-looking Johnnie. “Hey what's all this for?” he asked, opening the door for you. “Well you have been working so hard on your new song I thought I outta surprise you.”

You say with a big smile holding up his cup of tea and chips. “Eh, I'm really proud of this song. I just hope it, you know, does well,” he says with a short laugh at the end of his sentence. You smile while walking to the couch that is directly next to his editing chair.

The one you sat at and relaxed while he would stream. The whole world seemed so in love with you two dating. Everyone loved how well you two worked. And you loved it too. “I'm sure they will babe. I think you fucking killed it with this song,” you spoke moving your legs up to your chest and setting the food on the desk.

He smiles as you sit down in his chair and start to click around on his computer. You plucked a chip off of his plate scrolling around Twitter. “Hey, quit stealing my chips,” Johnnie said, staring at you accusingly.

You pause looking up at him, blinking slowly for a second. “When your dick gets bigger I will,” you said with a faux smile. He giggles at your comment, turning back to the computer, his fingers reaching for the coffee mug.

“Be careful, I think the tea is still pretty hot.” you half mumble the warning before putting the chip in your mouth. “I'll drink whatever the fuck I want bitch.” he says in a sassy, Timmy-esque voice. He takes a small sip of the tea before yanking the cup away from his mouth. “Fuck!” he shouts as the hot piqued burned his mouth.

You let out a loud laugh at his reaction, covering your mouth as you did so. “Aahh fuck you!” he yelps again searching for a drink of something colder. You snicker looking back down at your phone. Twitter was usually an awful place to be and it wasn't any different than this time.

You banned Johnnie from looking up his name on social media sites, and it wasn't good that you still did it but occasionally you liked to check in on fans and see what was popular amongst the fandom.

Most were hyping up the newest video you had posted this week and taking clips from it as reactions. Your fans were so funny, like genuinely. It blew you away that people found you so funny.

Of course, there were a select few that were not ideal. One about how You and Johnnie haven't posted in a while, and that you two must have broken up. They were not true by any means. With Johnnie's new song coming out soon it was easier for him to bulk-record videos so he had more time during the day to work on it.

Johnnie had finally calmed down from burning the shit out of his mouth. “How much of the new song have you teased?” you asked using your foot to spin his chair so he faced you. You continued to munch on a few chips, eating all the food you brought for your boyfriend.

“Honestly not much just that I have a new song coming out, not even a date or anything,” he said, grabbing a chip too. “Mmm we should start doing more to promote it, well sorry, you should do more this isn't my song,” you murmur using your ring finger to tap around your phone with your chip-dust-covered hands.

“Mmm, I feel like it's both of our songs in a way, I mean yeah I performed it and edited it but you helped me write it. You're also helping me by taking care of me.” he gestured to his tea as he took a sip.

You smiled at his words. It was nice when credit was given for things like this. This was Johnnie's song but you did help him with the lyrics. It was about the heartbreak of getting older, the lyrics sounding like you were talking to time.

The idea simmered down into a few words; it was like breaking up with time. The lyrics were akin to a breakup song. It was a cool idea and one you dealt with as you grew older. You even starred in the music video as the “time” character.

“What were we thinking of doing?” he murmured with his mouth full. “Maybe tweeting a few of your lyrics? Something you wouldn't normally rant about I guess,” you suggested dusting your fingers off.

“That could be cool, we should do it from the chorus or something,” he said, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “Yeah for sure,” you mumbled absentmindedly, moving the chair with your foot still.

Over the next few days you both tweeted lyrics from the song. ‘I will forever mourn the loss of us’ and ‘You can't stay innocent to it forever’ got the most likes. Unfortunately, you two were now trending. “What the fuck are we going to do?” you asked looking at the #Johnnieandy/nbreakup tag.

“Just ignore them? The song comes out soon anyway,” he reassured you, his thumb rubbing the side of your thigh. Your legs rested on his lap as you cuddled up next to him.

You still didn't like the idea that everyone thought you two broke up. You can see how someone might think that from your guy’s tweets. And yes you shouldn't assume something about someone online but that just means your fans care about you. Doesn't it?

After a few days, you both released another video on each other's YouTube channels. The entire comments were filled with asking where the other person was. If you two had really broken up this would have been awful. Thank god you hadn't.

You both decided that you two should make at least one video addressing the rumors. On one of your tik toks someone had commented ‘Did you and Johnnie break up?’ so you replied to the comment with a video.

“Hey guys so a lot of people have been asking if me and my boyfriend Johnnie broke up, so today we are going to go ask him,” you said holding the phone up to your face as if introducing a vlog.

The next shot was of your feet walking up to Johnnie sitting on the couch. “Hey babe?” you asked, pointing the camera at him. “Yeah?” he answered back looking up at you. “Did we break up?” you ask as if it was a normal question.

“Umm last time I checked no,” he replied back trying to hold his smile back. “Oh ok, sweat just checking. Love you,” you said back moving the phone down as he broke his serious face and laughed with you.

You posted the tik tok captioned “addressing the rumors”

You cuddled up next to him and read the comments. Most of them were making fun of others for assuming things. The other half was just talking about how cute the two of you were together.

The following day the song and music video were posted and the feedback was worth it. You were so proud of Johnnie and all he had done but this song meant so much to both of you.

#jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie x you

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ellethespaceunicorn · 7 months

Text

The Howling of Claw Creek Forest, Chapter One

Chapter One: Hide and Seek

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Series Summary: You live in a small town called Claw Creek, surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Since you were a kid, an urban legend of the creature in the woods has been told. If the distant howls at night and mutilated livestock are anything to go by, you fear the stories to be true.

Chapter Summary: After a curfew is set in place, you and your best friend sneak out past the town border for a drunken game of hide and seek. What could go wrong?

Warnings: drinking, peril, mention of blood

A/N: A special thank you to @peyton-warren for being my lovely beta and soundboard for this.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

“C’mon, girl. You need to get out of the house for more than just work and the coffee shop. Look, we’ll even stay in town. Just please don’t make me stay in and watch The Great British Bake Off again. Paul Hollywood’s eyes still haunt my dreams.” Your best friend drapes herself against the couch in a dramatic show of boredom.

“Liv, you’re the one that agreed to wine and TV. So, what? You wanna hit the bar now?” You guess, sitting on the arm of the couch.

“Yuck. No way. I was thinking of something much more exciting. But you gotta agree to it before we go. That’s the deal.” She props her head up on her fists, while she lays on her stomach, letting her feet swing in the air back and forth. As innocent as she looks, you knew better.

But then again, you could always go for a little adventure.

And that is how you ended up in a clearing in Claw Creek Forest with Olivia, a heart full of optimism, and a six-pack of Jack Daniels Watermelon Punch. By the time you are halfway done with your second bottle, the sounds of the night are almost calming. Crickets are chirping, owls are hooting, and leaves are rustling in the light wind that tickles your neck.

You’re downing the rest of your drink and looking up into the sky when Liv suddenly stands up with a look that can only mean one thing. She’s got a terrible idea that she thinks is genius.

You decide to stop her before she even starts, “Girl, whatever idea just popped into your head after two wine coolers is not gonna be as brilliant as you think it is. Just say it so I can turn it down.” You twist off the top of your third bottle and look up at the defeated face of your best friend.

“Damn, way to try and spoil all the fun. I just wanted to have a chugging contest.” She sits down on the fallen log next to you and grabs the last bottle from the cardboard pack. She twists off the top and you nudge her with your elbow before winking at her.

You smile at each other before bringing your bottles to your lips. The rush of the bubbly drinks makes you both stop every few sips to breathe and burp a little. But in the end, you finish your bottle first and shoot up off the log to slam down your empty bottle.

The moment you are upright, the blood rushes to your head and you instantly feel ten times more drunk. A few seconds later, you feel like you even out and you can hear Liv’s laughing as she falls backward off the log and her drink goes flying. You crumple to the ground, laughing your ass off, until she pops up over the log with a small scowl on her face.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, huh?” She stands up and brushes off her pants before picking up her now empty bottle along with yours. Her little attitude is adorable, but you don’t dare say that. As she walks past you, she doesn’t look at you.

“Olivia, don’t be like that. Come on, girl. We’re having a good time! I don’t want it to end. Please?” You’re not too proud to beg, and she’s not the only one who can pout charmingly.

When she turns around, the first thing she does is look at your pout and scoff, “OK, fine. But I’m only staying if we play a game of hide and seek. It’s spooky season, after all. Well, technically, in my head it’s always spooky season, but you get it.”

“You wanna play hide and seek...in the woods...in the dead of night...drunk?” You hoped there was enough moonlight so that she could see the incredulous look on your face.

Wiggling her eyebrows, Liv bites her bottom lip and says, “All of those things together are so perfect. We’re drunk. It’s nighttime. Spoo-ooky woods all around. Come on, babe, the kid versions of us would be so proud to say we weren’t too scared to play hide and seek as adults with barely any wits about us.” As soon as she finishes speaking, the cutest little hiccup escapes her, and you can’t help but laugh and shake your head.

“Fine! But I’m hiding first. Count to 30 so my drunk ass can find a good spot around here. And don’t cheat, Liv!” You direct her to face a tree and cover her eyes so she cannot sneak a peek at where you are going. You also make her count loudly so that she can barely hear your footsteps crunching over the leaves.

Even drunk, you are surprised you can think of all that. You back up slowly, turning around to run in a full sprint in the opposite direction. When the tree cover blocks out the light of the moon, you slow down and pull out your phone to use the flashlight to light up your way.

You don’t know if you got very far in 30 seconds or if Liv just stopped counting, but you can’t hear her anymore. You turn off your flashlight so she can’t use that to find you. You tip-toe forward in case she has gotten closer to you. You find a tree with large roots above ground and decide to try and hide in the little alcove it is shaped into.

But something catches your eye. At first, you think someone is shining a flashlight or something a bit away from you. But flashlights don’t usually blink, do they? But if you can remember correctly, you’ve seen those glowing yellow eyes before.

And now they were slowly moving toward you. The glow of the moon illuminated dark fur covering pointed ears and a muzzle that only hid its teeth for a moment. As those fangs came into view, a billow of hot breath turned into a smoke cloud in the frigid night air. The sudden huff of the beast made you realize you weren’t moving. You were standing stock-still while an imposing wolf thought about making you into its dinner.

Turning on a dime, you begin to run further into the forest. Not looking where you were going, you didn’t see the pile of rocks in your path. Your right foot slips, and you fall face-first onto the unyielding ground. You grunt as your head connects with a sharp stone. Your head starts to swim as you try to lift yourself to continue running, another huff directly behind you scares you enough to flip over onto your back.

Ringing starts in your ears, and you suddenly feel light-headed. You start to hyperventilate as the wolf comes closer. As tunnel vision closes in, you think you hear it whine softly. The last thing you feel is a wet snout against your temple and then nothingness.

What was once the sensation of cold wetness is replaced by warmth as you start to regain consciousness. You reach a hand up to your forehead and feel a wet cloth being pressed against your temple. When your hand touches what is holding it there, your eyes shoot open, and you try and scuttle away.

A firm hand grips your shoulder, and you find it hard to move. Turning your head slowly, you first look at the hand that holds you down. Thick fingers clutch your joint tightly, and the connected veiny forearm is covered in a smattering of dark chocolate hair. Even under an old woolen sweater, you can see the outline of a sizable bicep. The broad chest breathing heavily under that sweater triggers the onset of hyperventilation until the hand that was holding your shoulder moves away.

When a warm palm touches your jaw, your eyes threaten to close. But when a thumb brushes your cheek, you finally lock eyes with...an angel?

You can’t tell if the dimly lit room you are in is fuzzy or if you have a concussion. But if you were a betting person, your money would be on head trauma. Because there was no way he positioned himself in front of a light to have a slight glow about him. Maybe that just works like that?

Deep cocoa brown curls are about ear-length on his head, but a few unruly strands are hanging above his slightly raised brow. Concerned aquamarine eyes with a touch of brown in the left iris aren’t enough to hide the growing bags under them. A strong nose sits in the center of his face. And a small, yet inviting, mouth is outlined by a dark beard speckled with a few greys here and there.

“...best you lie back down.” The stranger speaks and you only catch the last bit of it because you were looking at his pretty face.

“I...,” You start, your hoarse voice causing you to clear your throat, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I said, it’s probably best you lie back down. You’ve got quite a lump on your head. If I hadn’t found you when I did, who knows what could have happened?” With one hand grabbing for the warm compress, his other hand guides you back down to lay your head on a soft pillow.

“Found me? Was there a wolf near me? He was huge and he chased after me and then I slipped and hit my head. And where am I? Where are we right now? Who are you? I need to get back to my friend.” Your words exit your mouth hastily as if you are in a rush to get the hell out of...wherever this is.

“Try and stay calm. Yes, I found you not far from the trail. I didn’t see a wolf anywhere, though,” He pauses quickly, but picks right back up where he left off, “Ehm, my name is Walter. Walter Marshall. We’re in my cabin, just outside of Claw Creek. I didn’t see your friend anywhere but, as soon as this swelling goes down a bit, I can take you into town.” Walter speaks clearly and smoothly, his voice is dark yet pacifying, but it’s obvious that he doesn’t enjoy talking.

“I guess I should give you my name,” You rattle off your name, and Walter nods, “I’d like to say it’s nice to meet you, Walter. But considering the circumstances of our meeting, this could have gone a lot differently. Not the way I hoped to end the night.” You laugh, mostly to yourself.

“I should hope not. When I found you, you were still bleeding a bit. I was able to stitch you up and get you cleaned up. But I’d probably go and see a doctor first thing in the morning.” Walter suggests in a strong tone.

“Thank you, Walter. I hate to think what would’ve happened to me had you not shown up when you did.” Your bottom lip quivers as you think the worst.

“Hey. You’re stronger than you think. And the swelling has gone down some. Why don’t we get you back to town where you can get more rest?” Walter pats your shoulder and gets up from the chair he was sitting in.

Your eyes follow him as he moves about the cabin. You realize that you hadn’t looked around before, so focused on him previously. It’s a nice, cozy place. Full of warm, rich colors and various little knickknacks on shelves. It lacks a woman’s touch, so to speak, what with all the antlers and not enough candles to cover the smell of a man. However, it suits the man who lives here.

Grabbing a set of keys, Walter comes back to where you lay on the couch in the center of the room. He gently and slowly helps you up and off the soft furniture and guides you to his truck parked outside. He helps you into the passenger side, shutting the door when you’re seated, and walks around the front to get in the driver’s side. Turning the key in the ignition, the truck rumbles to life and you are on your way home.

You’re rubbing your hands together and shoving them into your coat pockets before Walter gets the hint to turn on the heat. It’s only a couple of minutes before it is warm enough to be comfortable.

The drive down the tree-lined road is mostly silent, save for the low music playing on the radio. Walter points out where he found you and you almost can’t believe you made it that far on foot when you reach the edge of town. But you were drunkenly competitive, so you had your eyes on the prize.

Once you make it to town, you pass a curfew checkpoint and Walter supplies the officer with a story about how you two lost track of time while out of town. You thank him for the cover and direct him to stop at Olivia’s house to make sure she got home safely. Of course, you told him it was your place, and that Liv was your roommate.

As handsome as he was, serial killers come in all shapes and sizes and no way were you giving this man your actual address. You’d apologize to Liv later.

Once he stopped outside of her house, you went to unbuckle yourself and thank Walter for all his help. Protocol for this type of situation eluded you, so when you went for the door handle, you weren’t expecting his voice to stop you.

“Do me a favor and be careful from now on. No more late-night drinking in the forest. It can be a dangerous place." His calm smile brings out the most adorable dimples and you resist the urge to poke them.

“I promise. Scout’s honor. No more drunk forest parties. Thank you again for everything.” You place your hand on his arm and squeeze before exiting the truck and waving as you walk up the pathway to Liv’s house.

The light on the porch turns on and your best friend rushes out and hugs you tightly, bringing you in from the cold as Walter drives off into the night. Once you are in the warmth of her home, she takes your coat and prepares you a cup of tea. She asks who brought you home and you tell her about your ordeal.

When she asked if he was cute, you shouldn’t have been surprised but you still giggled bashfully. She also playfully swats you when you mention that you didn’t get his number. But that’s fine because at least you have his name.

Once she deems you safe enough to be on your own, she drives you the few streets over to your home and has you promise to call her in the morning. You take off your boots at the door, remove your coat, and start to sling it over the back of one of your dining room chairs. As you look closer at your coat, you make a note to take it to the cleaners tomorrow.

You survey the coat for any damage to the fabric and thankfully it just looks a bit dirty. You begin to wipe it with your hand and notice that it’s not all dirt on the coat. You can’t be sure, but if you had to guess what was on the sleeve and collar of the coat, you would say it was dog hair.

Coarse, short dark-colored hairs that when you hold them under a lamp look to be an inky brown. You try and stop yourself from jumping to conclusions, but it is almost impossible not to do that very thing. If these truly were what you thought they were, that means that you didn’t hallucinate that giant wolf. He was there with you, and he didn’t eat you.

You decided to get to the bottom of this. You’d schedule a check-up with your doctor in the morning. And after that, you would go back into the woods.

In search of the wolf? Possibly. In search of the truth? Definitely.

There was only one place to start. At Walter Marshall’s front door.

To be continued...

A/N: Walter is finally in the story!! Yay. I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter.

**Tag List**

@deandoesthingstome @cakesandtom @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @thabiddie23 @sweetandgentlecreature @foxyjwls007 @art2emily @titty-teetee @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102 @milknhonies @peyton-warren @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @cardierreh15 @viking-raider @imaslutforcuddles @ilovetaquitosmmmm @warriormirkwood @shellyshellshell @calwitch @meanlilbean @samahenoyrhye

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

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ahappyphjl · 4 months

Text

↓ what do dan and phil mean to you? ↓ // dpgdaily's dnpaw - day 7/7

i became a fan in 2011, first discovering phil's videos and soon after dan's too, when i watched the first pinof. i fell in love with their dynamic, humor, creativity, and originality. they made me feel seen, understood, and realise there were lots of people like me out there, when i was growing up and trying to figure out who i was. making this blog in 2016 was life changing, cause suddenly i was part of a community that accepted me and let me express myself with authenticity in a way i'd never experienced before.

dnp have been one of the few constants in my life, and i couldn't imagine my life without them, because they're forever a part of me. it's truly difficult to put into words, but this little excerpt from my phanatic phanzine personal story sums up my feelings quite well:

"I feel like no matter where I go and who I become, Dan and Phil are like an anchor for me – the people I can turn to when life gets overwhelming, and also when things are great. When I want to laugh even louder and share that happiness with a community that feels like home. During Spooky Week 2023 Dan said: “At a certain point you just realise who you are as a person”, and it really stuck with me. I’ve realised that life does get better, the future is bright, and I am enough. And I’ve also realised, I simply wouldn’t be who I am now, if it weren’t for Dan and Phil. I’m so proud of them, and infinitely happy they exist in this world. Words could never be enough."

dnp and this community made me who i am. been 12 years now since the first time i saw a dnp video, but i'll always love them with my whole heart. 2011 til forever. :')

#sobbing ohmygod....#mine #dnpaw #dnp #dan and phil #phan #daniel howell #dan howell #amazingphil #phil lester

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footballffbarbiex · 6 months

Note

Is it too late to request Ruben Dias with baby daddy ‘pumpkin picking’ please? Maybe you’re all out picking with your eldest child & heavily pregnant with the second. Ruben gets a bit sassy and reader threatens to attach a pumpkin to Ruben (like the viral watermelon videos of dads-to-be having them taped to them) and he soon goes back to being fluffy?

from this list.

sorry this is a bit later than planned, but i hope you like it!

each step brings a low, dull ache in your lower back and a splintering pain across your hips which only slows you down further than the waddle that you're now doing. it doesn't make it any easier with the ground now drenched from the last few nights rainfall and your feet threaten to slip out from beneath you with each squelchy step. even as you cart the wheelbarrow which helps to keep you the right way up.

Rúben walks ahead with your daughter, both of them managing to stay upright better than you, though she is supported by her daddy. her wellington boots have a thick layer of sludge going up past the rubber soles like a thick layer of icing upon a birthday cake. but he makes sure that she never falls, that even when she begins to lose her footing, that he's right there to give her her confidence back as he helps her regain her balance. she looks so small next to him and yet, she was growing up far too quickly. everything, physically, about her was Rúben and it made it far too easy for him to sweet talk you into having another baby.

he had promised that the first weekend when they were both available, he would take her pumpkin picking. she'd seen pictures from her friend's and acknowledged her jealousy, asking repeatedly why they were able to go but she wasn't. Rúben hated to see his little girl upset, especially for something that was so easy to fix.

several other families mill around, some slipping and sliding and no doubt seeing their life flash before their eyes as they begin their downward journey into the dirt. the sun seems brighter, imitating the way winter sun blinds, though it probably doesn't help that it's cutting through a veil of fog which hangs over the fields, leaving the scene before you all to feel incredibly spooky. you half expect to find a scarecrow to be hung up with a pumpkin head carved with a menacing smile as an attraction to take pictures with.

"mummy is a slowpoke," Rúben says loud enough for you to be able to hear, deliberately turning his head to ensure it reaches you as far back as you are. she giggles, betraying you in the process, and begins to chant "slowpoke" as she bends over to examine a pumpkin before deciding that it's not the one for her.

"come on mummy," he laughs as he begins to run in slow motion, "lets have a race, see if she can catch us." he says, encouraging the mini version of himself. she eagerly agrees, traitor, and begins to mimic him while squealing "catch us mummy" over and over.

Rúben's happy smile quickly disappears as he catches your expression and he gulps as you approach.

"what was that?"

"nothing," he feigns innocence.

"daddy says you're slow." your daughter says as she approaches with a small, but to her a large, pumpkin in her hands. it's dirty, the mud clings to her small hands but she looks super proud of her find as she rolls it into the wheelbarrow.

"keep speaking like that honey," you say, your words dripping with sweetness as you give him a smile just as sickly, "and you'll find yourself picking out an extra large pumpkin to strap to your stomach while i zap you with a TENS machine to see how a tiny bit of this feels."

"that sounds like fun." he grimaces, "but i'll, respectfully, pass. hey sugarplum, do you want to show me those big muscles of yours and maybe help mummy push this wheelbarrow while i help her walk along?" he asks, squatting down to her level and using a calming voice.

she immediately lifts her arms to flex her biceps and show that she's capable of it while he steps to your side and wraps an arm around your lower back.

"good choice Dias, good choice."

#ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias x you #ruben dias fluff #ruben dias blurb #ruben dias drabble #ruben dias fanfic #football imagine #football one shot #footballer imagine #footballer one shot #football blurb #football fanfiction

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faulty-writes · 6 months

Note

Hii! I apologize if you keep getting notifications from me at such an hour but I cant get enough of your posts! I love the way you write Tenya!

So if I may trouble you just a bit longer…

Since it’s spooky season, what would your take be on vampire Tenya x f (or gn) reader? And vampire Monoma as well?

[ Oh I like trouble, trust me. Haha. Thank you. I swear I get so many compliments regarding how I write Tenya, makes me so proud of myself. One spooky season request coming up! ]

Despite being what many assumed was a "blood-sucking" creature, Tenya had a sense of elegance and self-discipline because of his upbringing. Yes, he was what most would refer to as a "rich kid" but he was not spoiled in any capacity and often adhered to his own rules which included having manners even when thirsty for blood.

Most found Tenya to be intimidating, but you found him intriguing despite initially being unaware of his true nature. The two of you met in a bookstore late at night and you recall the way he stumbled when he rounded the corner of a bookshelf to find you and the way he bowed and said "Pardon, I was unaware there was another frequenting this shop so late at night."

The two of you began to meet frequently at the bookstore after that, and although you thought it peculiar Tenya only requested to meet you at night. You assumed it was because he was busy during the day but in all truth, he was struggling to avoid revealing his true nature to you and feared that once you found out he was a vampire you'd…well you would not want to see him again.

He slipped one night, after pushing himself too far. Yes, self-control was essential. But one could only contain themselves for so long and vampires were particularly dangerous when deprived of blood. "I…I apologize I…I did not wish for you to see me as such a…monster," while initially a shock, you tried to be accepting and understanding of what he was.

Being the person you were, his vampiric world fascinated you, and he didn't hesitate to teach you about the history of his lineage or his nightly rituals which typically included performing a series of prayers, chants, and such before he drank whatever blood he had managed to obtain.

Unfortunately, Tenya also informed you of the dangerous side of his world. Mostly the rogue vampires who strayed from the societal rules of their world and killed or injured humans during their bloodlust. "I promise, I will not allow harm to come to you. Ensuring your safety is quite a priority." Yes…he would go to whatever lengths he needed to ensure you remained by his side.

To double ensure your safety, Tenya presented you with gifts frequently. Usually, these consisted of protective charms, blessed holy water, and amulets that were believed to ward off bad supernatural threats. Of course, he would never tell you the hoops he had to go through to get such gifts.

Sometimes it was hard to keep up with Tenya's schedule considering he was more active at night. But he assured you that he enjoyed your company and often insisted that you could rest when you appeared extremely tired. Waking up in his bed or falling asleep against his shoulder became a frequent occurrence for you.

His parents were hesitant to accept you and your growing relationship with their son. On the other hand, his brother, Tensei welcomed you with open arms. "It's awesome that my little bro finally found someone! And just to let you know, it doesn't matter if you're human, another vampire, or even a witch. I believe that people who look past such things are the coolest!" It was safe to assume that Tenya got his beliefs from Tensei.

"I believe with enough effort, we may eliminate the prejudice that separates our societies to coexist together in harmony," one of Tenya's deepest wishes was to break the barriers between his and your kind. Although he had not intended to feel affection for you, he did. Yet, he looked at it as the first step to uniting your kind as he dreamed.

Neito, unfortunately, was out of blood and sought to get it fresh from an unsuspecting human. That human happened to be you and he was only attracted to you because of the intoxicating scent of your blood. However, he quickly found that you were not a frail human and stood your ground far more than he expected.

While some would be embarrassed, Neito remained his ignorant self after realizing you were quite the troublesome individual. "How dare you reject me! I am Neito Monoma, and I demand you provide me with your blood!" As far as you were concerned, underneath his vampiric nature was nothing more than a spoiled child and you were prepared to discipline him as needed.

He continued to stalk you, despite finding alternative blood donors because as much as he hated to admit it, he found you intriguing. For a human that is, and used his sharp wit accompanied by playful banter whenever you caught him in his stalking efforts. "Surely you didn't think I'd leave you alone, oh no my dear, quite the opposite. I do not stop until I get what I want and what I want is your blood," and your affection, but he kept that to himself.

Your opinion of him didn't change until you were attacked by another one of his kind. Your guard was down initially because you had mistaken them for Neito, and despite your skills, you were losing the fight until he showed up and saved you. He'd be damned if he let another taste your blood before he got the chance to.

You detested the idea of letting him finally drink from you but considering his courageous actions. You allowed him the opportunity and found that he was surprisingly gentle when feeding from you. "Surely you didn't compare me to such monsters as that rouge one who attempted to take what is mine, how insulting. I pride myself in presentation and manners," he stated, acting just a touch too offended.

Despite not letting many people in, the two of you continued to spend time together, and Neito began to reveal his past. How he came from a high-class family, their rather…unbelievable expectations of him, and how he wishes to break free and prove his own worth to the world. Of course, that was a challenge given the current state of discrimination toward his kind, but he was still determined to do whatever he could to make his dream come true.

He finds himself feeling peaceful when in your presence and this was new to him and something that gave him a sense of belonging. It was almost as if being in your presence kept his demons at bay and he partially wondered if you wore any protection symbols or amulets on your person.

On occasion, Neito would still struggle with the affection he felt for you and his nature. Vampires were strong, drank blood, and didn't hesitate to do what they wanted to obtain said blood. But even though he knew you would allow him to drink from you. He found that he didn't want to cause you any harm and thus the conflict continued but he kept this a secret from you.

Eventually, Neito agreed to allow you to meet his family. Although it was immediately apparent, they detested you merely because you were human and spoke ill of Neito for befriending and furthermore feeling the way he did toward you. "Humans are meant to be our food source, nothing more," they said which caused Neito to argue with them before ultimately dragging you out the door.

Despite your unusual relationship, Neito viewed it as fulfilling his commitment to protect and cherish you for as long as you lived, and from what he understood, that was for a short time. He planned to propose to turn you but decided to wait to bring that up. For now, he'd enjoy your company.

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anythingforjtk · 6 months

Text

Scream for Me

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word count: ~2,500

Warnings: alcohol, cursing, unprotected sex (p in v) (wrap it up!), light choking, fingering, mentions of murder (not seriously), minors DNI!!!

a/n: I wanted to pick a halloween fic topic based off of the list @hearts-hunger created! I picked topic 17 (halloween party) It’s different from the other fic I recently wrote but it was fun to make! enjoy the halloween jake smut 👻

“y/n would you hurry up! The uber will be here in two minutes!” Shouts your best friend Cam from the bottom of the staircase.

The two of you are about to leave for a Halloween party. You decided to go with a classic yet sexy costume, a pirate. You’re wearing an off the shoulder long white dress with a corset around your waist. You are covered in silver jewelry: necklaces, bracelets and earrings. You opted for a dark smokey eye and eyeliner in your waterline. Your finishing touches include fishnet stockings, black boots and a red bandanna over your hair.

“I’m coming Cam!” You reply before throwing your phone and keys into your purse and running down the stairs to meet her at the front door.

“You may have taken forever but I can see it was worth the wait, you look sexy girl. Now let’s go!” Cam pulls your arm and drags you through the front door, guiding you towards to uber.

Once you get inside of the car you finally have time to take in and appreciate her costume.

Not only is she dressed as Pennywise from the movie IT, but she is the sexy version. She’s wearing a white corset top, embellished with red pom-poms, small white shorts, clown makeup and a pretty orange wig.

“I admire your ability to be scary, funny and sexy all at once. You truly have a talent,” you giggle to her.

“Oh what can I say my dear? I’m multifaceted,” Cam says as she jokingly flicks her orange wig behind her shoulder.

The ride to the party is fast, only lasting about fifteen minutes. You both hop out of the car when you arrive and hook arms, walking to the front door together.

The party is hosted by Cams new boyfriend Daniel. You have only met him two times but he seems like a sweet guy.

Cam opens the front door without knocking and you’re immediately transported into a Halloween wonderland. You didn’t expect so many decorations.

The lighting in the house is dim. There are string lights and cob webs hanging from every inch of the ceiling. You see black and red streamers hanging from the walls and candles lit on every table. The kitchen island was filled with spooky treats and alcoholic punch. It is very impressive for a twenty-something year old guy.

“Wow Cam,” you shout over the loud and eerie music. “Daniel really goes all out. This is amazing.” You try to keep your jaw from hitting the floor.

“Isn’t it?!” She doesn’t seem shocked by his effort, only proud.

There are a good amount of people in the house. Not too many but not too little. Just enough for a comfortable party.

“Im going to search for Danny,” Cam shouts over the music into your ear. “Go get some punch and i’ll meet up with you when I find him.”

She runs off and you’re now left to fend for yourself.

You take her suggestion and walk over to the kitchen island to get a drink. You are completely sober currently and in need of something to lighten your anxiety.

Your pour yourself a class of the punch and it’s delicious. It’s strong, but really good. It is the perfect drink to get you drunk fast without feeling the burn of consuming alcohol.

You lean against the counter while sipping your drink and begin to people watch. You love taking in everyone’s costume choices. Some people are opting for a scary approach, some look beautiful and some look funny. It is interesting to see what people choose. As you’re looking at the crowd, you feel a presence beside you.

You look over to see a man wearing black from head to toe. He’s wearing black skinny jeans, black chelsea boots and a black shirt that is holding on by one button.

You think the outfit is rather sexy but you can’t see his face. That is because he’s wearing a Ghostface mask.

He speaks, breaking you from your thoughts. “Hey I haven’t seen you at one of Danny’s parties before. What are you doing standing over here alone?”

His voice is kind and boyish but raspy. It’s very attractive.

“Oh my friend just recently started dating him so this is my first time here. I don’t really know anyone but her and she’s looking for Daniel,” you reply.

He extends his hand out to you, “Well my name is Jake. Now you know someone else.” You can’t see his face but you can almost hear it in his voice that he’s smiling.

You reach out in return, shaking his hand. “It’s nice to meet you Jake. I’m y/n.”

“Well y/n, I must tell you that I was intrigued to come over here and talk to you because you’re dressed as a pirate and if there’s one thing about me, I find pirates to be very intriguing.”

A blush comes across your face. You hope he can’t really see it through the mask he’s wearing.

“I hate to disappoint you Jacob but,” you lean in closer and whisper towards his ear, “I’m not a real pirate. Don’t tell anyone tho.” You shush him by putting your finger over your lips.

He giggles genuinely at your attempt at a lame joke.

Jake speaks up from behind the mask, “Well then you should know that i’m not a real cereal killer.”

“Oh damnit. I was kind of hoping you were,” you reply. Although you weren’t actually hoping that, the idea of a sexy and dangerous man in a mask turned you on.

“I mean, I can be anything you want me to be tonight darling,” Jake says with sex dripping in his voice.

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol, the halloween party or the masked man in front of you but you wanted Jake to take you away from this party immediately.

“If you take me somewhere quiet i’ll show you exactly what I want from you mr. Ghostface. Just as long as you don’t kill me of course.”

Jake grips your wrist firmly and guides you up the stairs and away from the party noise at a fairly quickly pace.

He throws your body into what looks like a guest room, slams the door shut, locks it and pushes your body against the wall.

The room is dark, only lit by the moon in the night sky.

Jake begins to grab the bottom of his mask, getting ready to reveal his face to you but you quickly grab his hands to stop him.

“Keep it on.”

His strong hand then snaps around your neck. You can’t quit see his eyes but you know he’s staring at you like you’re his next meal. He slowly moves his head so his mouth is hovering over your ear.

“I like you sweetheart.”

You slowly begin to smirk, knowing he’s willing to keep it on.

His hand leaves your neck and slowly travels down your body. He lifts your skirt up, revealing your black thong covered in your fishnet tights.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

You nod your head quickly in reply.

His hand shoots back around your neck. “Words baby.”

“Y- yes. Yes it’s okay.” You struggle to say through your heavy breathing.

“Good girl,” he says while lowering his hand beneath the band of your thong. His fingers reached your heat and he begins swirling his middle and ring finger in your wetness.

Without much warning he shoves both of his fingers inside of you. You gasp at the sudden contact and grab at his strong forearm to ground yourself.

“How fast do you want it baby?” He questions, wanting to know the proper way to please you.

“Fast and hard,” you moan out to him while leaning your head back against the wall behind you to prepare yourself.

His fingers start plunging in and out of you at a painfully delicious speed. He curls his fingers at just the right angel to hit a spot that makes you nearly scream.

You feel sweat beading on your forehead as he drives his fingers into you. You squeeze around him as you feel yourself starting to unwind.

“Come on pretty girl. You’re about to cum, I can feel it. Be so good for me and cum on my fingers.” he demands.

Hearing his silky voice speak those words to you were enough to have you unraveling on his hand.

“fuuuckkkkkk,” you scream out at a volume too loud considering there are other people in the house.

When you come down from your orgasm he gently pulls his hand away from your core.

“Open up,” he requests.

You follow his order. He places his two fingers onto your tongue. With his other hand he guides your chin to close around his fingers and he slowly pulls them from your mouth as you suck them clean.

You look down at his pants and see how painfully hard he is. You softly trace your fingers over his bulge and he sucks in his breath sharply as if you were hurting him.

“I want all of you. I want to feel you,” you say to him.

He picks you up from under your ass, carries you over to the bed, and slams you down.

While hovering over you with his hands on both sides of your head Jake says, “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

He removes his jeans and boxers while you remove your corset and dress.

He’s left in nothing but his low buttoned shirt and his mask, while you’re in just your tights and a thong.

You make eye contact with his dick and notice how thick it is. It excites you so much that you notice your wetness pooling beneath you.

“You don’t have to stare honey, it’s all yours tonight,” Jake giggles to you, noticing where your eyes have been lingering.

“Then what are you waiting for Jacob? Give it to me,” you demand from him as if you’ve grown impatient.

He wastes no time and crawls on top on you on the bed and you both move up until you hit the headboard.

He reaches down to your core with one hand and rips your fishnet tights to create a hole.

You feely annoyed that he ripped your clothing for one minute until you realize you were never going to wear them again anyway.

His hands begin to explore your body. He grabs at your breasts, massaging them firmly. He rolls your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger as you let out a heavy breath of ecstasy.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he compliments you.

“I’d say the same for you mystery man but I haven’t seen your face yet,” you wink back at him.

He chuckles in response to you and continues working his hands over your body.

“Please Jake I need you now,” you practically beg him.

“You need me to what darling?” He mockingly asks you, wanting to hear you plead for it.

“I need you to fuck me.”

“You want me to fuck you baby? Is that what you need?”

“Yes. Yes. Please,” you almost sound like you’re crying.

“Oh baby… I’ll fuck you so hard someone will think you are getting murdered in here.”

He pushes your thong to the side and lines himself up with your core. He snaps his hips against yours in one quick motion, causing you to shriek. He begins rapidly pounding into you.

He quickly grabs and pillow and puts it under your hips, making the pleasure triple. You grab at his back and dig your nails into him, slowly running them down his back, hoping to leave him with a memory of tonight.

“Fuck- you feel so fucking good around my cock,” he says through his staggered breathing. “Does that feel good baby?”

“Yes Jake you feel so good inside of me I never want you to fucking leave,” you shout back to him.

Your response to him causes him to moan deeply in chest, so much so that it sounds like a growl.

He grabs one of your legs and wrap it around his waist so he can reach a new angel. Between the pillow placement, your position, and his rapid thrusts, your body is experiencing a feeling it never has before.

You can feel his dick brushing past your g-spot causing you to yell out his name and a string of curses.

You start to squeeze around his cock, getting close to your release. You can tell he’s almost there too as you feel him twitch inside of you.

“Cum with me y/n. I want you to soak my dick as I finish inside of you. Come on baby you’re almost there. Be good for me.”

His final praises bring you to the finish line as your body shakes through a mind bending orgasm. You let out a chorus of yeses and grab at his arms with all of your might. As you’re finishing you feel him twitch inside of you.

You both come down and catch your breath before he pulls out of you and falls onto his back on the bed beside you.

You turn your head to look over at him, still wearing the Ghostface mask, “That was fucking amazing.”

“Holy shit, yea it was,” he responds. “Can I take this fucking thing off now,” he laughs referring to the mask on his face.

“Oh please do,” you reply.

You feel nervous watching him begging to situate the mask to lift over his head. You have no idea what he looks like yet but you had been extremely attracted to everything he’s offered so far and there was no denying he is the best sex you’ve ever had.

The mask gets fully yanked off of him to reveal one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen.

You gasp out loud.

His hair is shoulder legnth and chestnut brown. His eyes are dark and filled with honey. His thick eyebrows and long eyelashes compliment his deep eyes so well. He has a strong and sharp nose and plump pink lips. He smirks slightly at you, revealing his perfectly straight teeth.

“What? Did my face scare you sweetheart?” He asks as a joke.

You press your body into his and brush the sweaty hair sticking to his face behind his ears.

“The only thing that scares me is how attracted I am to you,” you say in full seriousness.

“You’re in luck because I feel the same way about you.” He gives a quick peck to your nose. “Give me your phone. Let me put my number in it.”

You reach down to the floor where your purse was thrown and grab your phone from it.

You hand it over to him and let him type in his contact himself.

When he hands the phone back you look down to see the information he filled out and giggle at the screen.

His number was put in its rightful place and his contact name was labeled as “Ghostface🔪”

#jake kiszka #jake kiszka blurb #jake kiszka x reader #gvf x reader #gvf fic #gvf one shot #jake kiszka x y/n #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fic #halloween fic #jake kiszka fanfic

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darthstitch · 2 years

Text

every hundred years

Jessamy likes to follow along when the museum guides give their tours. It gives her something to do while Mummy's working with the paintings. At least, that was if Jessamy wasn't in school.

Her Mummy restores old paintings, brings them back like they were good as new. Most kids found that boring, but Jessamy didn't. She liked some of the stories Mummy would tell about those paintings. Of course, Jessamy couldn't be there the whole time, because it was fiddly, fussy work and Mummy needed to concentrate.

Today, Jessamy was trailing along a group that included a few kids close to her own age. They stopped in front of a painting that Jessamy recognized as one that her Mummy had recently restored.

"The Devil in the Tavern," the museum guide proclaimed with a dramatic flourish. "There's a rather spooky story attached to this, just in time for All Hallows' Eve. Don't worry, the painting itself isn't cursed, though. We keep those kinds of paintings decently covered up - we wouldn't want to lose our visitors now, wouldn't we?"

There was nervous laughter among the visitors and the children giggled.

"He doesn't look like the Devil," protested one very young little girl. "He looks like a prince in a fairy tale!"

"Yeah, he's supposed to have horns or scary burning eyes. That's what my nan says," said another little boy.

Jessamy had to agree. The "devil" looked rather handsome in his old-fashioned dark blue suit, with pale skin, bright blue eyes and long dark curly hair tumbling over his shoulders. There was a ruby set in the ruffles at his neck - Mummy called that a cravat, rather like an old-fashioned necktie.

"Well," said the museum guide, "if he had horns and scary eyes, he wouldn't be able to sit all nice and quiet in a tavern, aye? The story goes that the Devil and the Cursed Soldier would meet in a certain tavern, once every hundred years…"

Jessamy listened as the museum guide continued to spin their story about dreadful bargains made for immortality, a clever soldier who'd bested the Devil in a card game and won riches beyond imagination, and how every hundred years, the two of them would meet and plot and ensnare more unwary, greedy souls to drag off to Hell. The grown ups chuckled and Jessamy heard one scoff, "Stuff and nonsense!" But that was grown-ups for you. Some of them didn't like a good story, even if it was clearly all made up.

She lingered in front of the painting a while longer, even as the museum guide finished their tale and led the group to other paintings and things to see, moving on to different stories. There was something about this painting that was oddly familiar to her. Something about the look in the "devil's" eyes that seemed more sad to her, rather than sinister.

"That is not the Devil at all," said a deep, resonant voice just behind her. "And that soldier was never cursed."

Jessamy turned to see a tall, thin young man standing there. He was dressed entirely in black - black coat, black pants, black combat boots - which went perfectly well with his black hair and snow-white skin. He kind of looked like Wednesday Addams' older brother, which made her smile inwardly.

"Did the guide make it all up then?" Jessamy asked.

The man shook his head. "No, they told the story as they knew it. Stories tend to change as they're told over the years, but they will always go back to their original forms in time."

"So who was he really? What's the real story then?" Jessamy asked.

"He is the King of All Night's Dreaming," the man answered, a small smile playing about his lips. "He was rather proud, a little too full of himself at times. Since he knew the dreams and hopes of all humanity, he fancied that he knew all that he should of mortals. His sister, who was very wise and quite kind, decided to teach him otherwise."

"How? And who was his sister?"

"His sister was Death. And she pointed out the soldier to him, who was rather deep in his cups at the time. The man proclaimed to all and sundry that he had no plans of ever dying. She decided then and there, that she would grant him his wish. He would not die, unless he finally wanted it.

The Lord of Dreams believed that he would be begging for Death's gift in a century. And so they made a wager about it.

Still quite haughty, he swept up to the soldier and told him the news. And invited him to a meeting at that very same tavern, in a hundred years.

'Aye, stranger,' said the soldier quite cheerfully. 'I'll see you in a hundred years, then!"

Jessamy found herself spellbound by the man's voice and the way he told his tale. She hadn't realized that the two of them were now sitting on one of the benches in front of the portrait. There were other children now who were obviously listening as well and they'd settled down on the floor around them.

"So did they see each other in a hundred years?"

The man nodded.

"The Dream Lord expected, of course, for the man to beg him for death. For much had happened to him in the past century. He had fought in many battles, he had seen much of suffering and pain and many, many horrors."

The man paused and shook his head, looking rueful.

"But when the Dream Lord asked him to tell his story, the man told him about the wondrous invention of.... chimneys."

Jessamy and the other children giggled.

"And handkerchiefs."

More laughter.

The man shook his head at them mock-sternly. "He'd lived through a time when there were no such things and people would sicken and die from inhaling the smoke from a poorly ventilated hearth. To him, they were marvellous things.

When he spoke to the King of Dreams about his life, it was always the new things that he spoke of and there was such wonder and amazement in his tone, that he had lived to see such miracles and that he hoped he would live to see many more.

And so, when the Dream Lord asked if he still wished to live, he answered, 'Yes.'

Thus, the King of Dreams lost his wager with his sister. But he was, as I've said, very proud. And he was now quite intrigued with this fellow, with his talk of chimneys and handkerchiefs.

And so, they agreed to meet once more at that tavern, in another hundred years."

The man continued to weave the story of the King of Dreams and the immortal man, how they would meet at the tavern, to listen to the man tell him of the wonders he'd seen in the previous century. How he'd risen from his own humble origins as a peasant soldier to become rich and gain a title of his own, with a wife, a son and a baby on the way.

How, in the very next meeting, the Dream Lord would again meet the immortal man, but this time, he would see him poor and starving, having lost everything - his wealth, his wife and babe, and finally, his dear son.

Jessamy gulped. "Did he still want to live?"

"The Dream Lord felt quite sorrowful, when he'd beheld the man and heard his tale of woe. It had started out as a silly game between him and his sister, but this was now more than just a game to them both.

The Dream Lord also knew of loss and suffering and pain. There were times when he felt he would break under the weight of it. But he endured, for he had a duty to fulfill. There was no one else to carry the burden for him.

So he asked the man, with a heavy heart, if he had still wanted to live. Perhaps, he would offer this man a final dream to ease his way, a vision of the family he had lost, to comfort him.

The Dream Lord thought to himself that he would miss this man and his stories, but it was only to be expected. Humans could only endure so much pain. This was why his sister bestowed her gift to humanity. They were only too glad to see her, in the end.

But once more, the man surprised him.

"Are you mad?" the man told him. "Death's a mug's game. I've got so much more to live for."

So much hope still in him. How extraordinary."

"Did they meet again? The King of Dreams and the immortal man?" Jessamy asked.

"Did he get all better?" asked another little girl.

The man nodded.

He continued to tell them the story of the immortal's adventures. How he had done deeds both good and terrible. How he had learned from those dire mistakes, that had haunted his dreams and nightmares, which would have broken other men before him.

And yet, he had always looked forward, tried to do better and dreamed, always, to what new and wondrous thing the future would bring him. What stories he would tell the King of Dreams when they met again.

"All that, and still, the immortal did not truly know who the King of Dreams was."

Jessamy blinked. "Why? Weren't they friends already?"

The man laughed softly. "As I've said, the King of Dreams was a rather arrogant creature."

"He's very silly," Jessamy declared. "I'd rather like to be friends with someone who lives forever like that. And I'd see him more than just once in a hundred years."

"Then you are far wiser than the King of Dreams, little one. And a much better friend."

"Maybe the King of Dreams was afraid," Jessamy ventured. "I think he was lonely. He just didn't want to admit it."

"He was. Very lonely. And quite afraid. He had reason to be, for terrible things would happen to the people he loved. He did not want the same thing to happen to this man, his friend, who had become very dear to him. Dearest and best beloved."

"And how does the story end? Do they still meet in that tavern every hundred years?"

"How do you think the story ends, little Jessamy?"

Jessamy blinked. She wasn't sure if she'd told this man her name. But there was something in those extraordinary blue eyes, a look, that was warm and kind and knowing. Again, there was that nudge of familiarity to it, something that scratched at the edge of memory.

"You're the Storyteller," she told him archly. "You should know."

"Perhaps they still meet, even now, though the tavern is no longer there. They meet someplace new, a place that the immortal has built for his errant friend, a safe place where they can sit and drink and spend time together.

Perhaps, they meet a little more often than a hundred years, because the immortal man still has many stories to tell and the King of Dreams himself has learned his own lessons.

Perhaps, the immortal now knows his friend's name and asks the Dream Lord to tell his own story. As I tell it to you now."

The man smiled. And Jessamy finally tried not to think very hard about how the man looked exactly like that painting that was just in front of them.

"There you are, duck," said another man, walking up to them. He was only slightly shorter than the man in black, broad-shouldered, with warm brown eyes and the kindest smile. He paused in front of them, took in the scene of Jessamy and the children with amusement. "Telling stories again, are we? Do I know this one?"

"You know it quite well, dearest," the storyteller said, standing up to walk towards his companion. "I am rather fond of this particular tale after all."

"And how does this one end?"

"I think it ends happily ever after," Jessamy spoke up, looking at the two of them. She was suddenly very sure that she knew who they were. "That's how the best stories end."

"There you go, love, out of the mouths of babes," said the immortal man, who had been a peasant, a soldier, a lord, a beggar and many things more in all the centuries he'd lived. He leaned over to brush a kiss against the storyteller's pale cheek, smiled when the kiss was briefly returned, soft and sweet.

"As you say." The storyteller nodded regally at her. "Farewell, little Jessamy. Dream well."

Jessamy watched the King of All Night's Dreaming and his immortal walk away, hand in hand. She grinned. She was quite glad that her lord Morpheus had found happiness at long last.

-end-

*runs*

#the sandman #dreamling #dream/hob #dream x hob #dream of the endless #hob gadling #justice for jessamy #i crack what i want #shhh nobody tell neil

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