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#i just wanted to draw them actually playing baseball
radioactiveinvisible · 2 months
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astronomical ring | spencer reid
spencer x fem!bau!reader summary: spencer is a good profiler, but is that really the reason why he notices tiny details about you? (and gives you gifts as a result). genre: fluff! and slow burn to (eventually) friends to lovers. a/n: hi! i know this is short, but it's more like a build-up to the next one. i hope you like it! (also whaaat, i'm so grateful for how much you liked the previous part!). previous | next
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You used to wear a lot of bracelets when you were in college. The enough so you could feel their absence when your wrists were bare. You felt somehow vulnerable without them. Nevertheless, when you signed up for the academy and noticed how no one else wore the same amount of bracelets as you, you stopped using them. You convinced yourself that was unprofessional. However, sometimes you feel the stars’ ghost hanging off your wrist. To this day, your fingers are still looking to draw their shape for a need of comfort.
Since your fingernails can’t longer bear these last weeks’ stress, a couple days ago you decided to wear again one single bracelet. Golden chain, thin enough to go unnoticed and with tiny star charms. As the photographs of the new case appear on the screen, you unconsciously trace each of the stars with your fingertips. The metal is no longer cold, but it doesn’t seem to bother you, the shapes being familiar enough to soothe you.
After Spencer’s birthday, he and JJ went out. With Garcia. In all honesty, you don’t know how that could happen. Gideon only gave two tickets to Spencer, so where did the third one come out? You still remember his bashful expression when he told you. “Uh, I invited JJ to this baseball game and…” he chuckled, “she brought Garcia as well”. You made time by looking for the TV control so you could pause The Empire Strikes Back. You felt bad that his date didn’t go like a date at all. Still, you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that a glimpse of relief bit your heart. Nonetheless, only then you knew you had to end your feelings before they could end you.
“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” you told him. “I knew you were looking forward to your date with her.”
“What’s a date anyways?” he snapped. “Just two persons alone with usually a movie or a dinner involved? Because we didn’t go for a meal. Or to the theater.”
You blinked, looking around the two of you. Alone. With a movie playing on the TV and a pizza half eaten in the middle of the couch.
“Uhm…” you start. “Yeah, I guess that’s a date in the romcoms. But did you tell her it was a date?” Because if you did, it was kinda rude what she did, you wanted to add.
“Uh, well,” Spencer stuttered, “I told her that a I had an extra ticket and if she wanted to come with me.”
“But you didn’t use the word date?”
“No.” He straightened. “Actually, now that I think about it, I should have seen it coming. She asked why I didn’t take you instead. I lied and said you don’t like baseball that much. Well, it’s not a lie. You don’t. But neither do I. Well, the point is- yeah. It wasn’t so surprising when she showed up with Garcia, I guess.”
You are brought back to reality when Hotch announces “wheels up in thirty.” Oh, great. You missed the last minutes of the meeting because you were playing the memory jukebox. You begin to gather the papers inside your folder when you notice that Spencer has stopped next to you while the rest of the room is already empty.
“Did, uh, someone special gave it to you?” Spencer asks.
You just look at him without a clue. He reads the question written on your face and points to your wrist.
“You’ve been wearing it the last couple of days.” It’s all he says.
“Oh.” You nod. “Yeah, my mom gave it to me long time ago.”
“It’s very you,” he says, walking with you to your desk.
“What do you mean?” you laugh.
“You know, you like the space, and the gravity, and the relativity of time…” he shrugs. “It’s very you.”
You hang your go bag on your shoulder and smile up at him. “Yeah, I guess it is. It’s my favourite.”
He just nods before grabbing his go bag. And, days later, when the case is already wrapped up and you are back in the office, Spencer slows you down a couple of seconds. He then pulls out a little box and leaves it on your desk.
“It’s a, uh, an astronomical ring. But I know you don’t do rings. Then I remembered when you showed me some college pictures and you were using necklaces in some of them so- I made it a necklace. But you can still unfold it. There are several theories about its purpose, but some say it can be used to determine the sun’s position on the horizon. Or the stars’ location to calculate what time is it.” He explains as you open the box. “And, uhm, I noticed how you motioned like you were to grab a necklace when we were in the precint… like how you used to do with your wrist before using your bracelet again. Uh, and so, I figured that if you are comfortable enough to wear stars on your wrist again, you might wanna know how to find them even when you can’t see them.”
Inside, a small gold charm shines under the office’s fluorescent lights. When opened, three rings unfold attached to a single axis. You feel like you could cry. Without warning, you close your arms around Spencer. You are no longer so sure that your heart is going to end your feelings, but it feels the other way around.
“Sorry,” you say, loosening your grip. “I know I didn’t tell you beforehand that I was going to hug you-“
“You don’t have to do that anymore,” he cuts you, tightening his arms around your waist. “I’ve already told you. I don’t mind your physical touch.”
“It is because I’m pretty clean, right?” you joke, placing your cheek on his shoulder.
“Right,” he chuckles. “That’s why.”
a little warning(?): i'm not planning this like a series with a plot. i'm just using this au to write little one shots. there's no major plot going on. also, updates are not on schedule. i'll just update whenever i feel like it (?), if that makes sense. i'm so sorry if i gave you the wrong impression, hehe. AND, once again, thank you for reading this! i appreciate it so much. (and, spoiler: the next part is lila archer's episode. whoops).
taglist: @mirdnightmass @monstrosityinside @nervousmumbling @sunflowersndpeaches s0urmarvel wispystarss 405rry avis-writeshq syrrup wishyoudaskme haileycannotcometothephonern lololololooolook69 redros3y @stargirlsturniololover iamburdened pleasantwitchgarden (i really hope i am not forgetting anyone).
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flowersbian · 4 months
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I got bored so here's a little get-to-know-you tag game I think could be fun :3
Name(s)
Pronouns
Star sign
# of siblings & fun facts about them (if you have any)
# of pets & their names
Fandoms
Favorite color
Favorite song
Favorite author (of anything readable-- books, fanfics, zines, webtoons, whatever!)
Hobbies
Favorite fic type
Favorite holiday
Do you have any partner(s)? (romantic, qpp, anything!)
Fun facts about you / anything extra you wanna share!
────────
Name(s): Loki (highly preferred), Elye
Pronouns : they/them mostly, he/she okay too
Star sign: Pisces
# of siblings: I've got 2! An older sister and a younger sibling. The fun fact about them is that they're also both queer; in fact, my mom is too. The only non-queer person in my immediate family is my dad.
# of pets: 4 cats! Phoebe & Frankie are our girls, Lenny and Murray are our boys :3
Fandoms: MCU (kind of), BSD, OFMD, Ranboo (does his fanbase count as a fandom?)
Fav. color: Don't have one
Fav. song: Aurora Borealis by Lemon Demon
Fav. author: Alice Oseman
Hobbies: singing, acting, drawing, writing, procrastinating
Fav. fic type: Fluff, definitely. I am a sucker for well written coffee-shop and flower-shop aus, too. Smut's fine, but only if it's romantic. I can't do angst if there's no comfort.
Fav. Holiday: Hanukkah or Halloween! I love autumn and winter
Partners?: Yes! I have a girlfriend (queerplatonic) who I love very much, and a boyfriend (romantic) who I love very much :]
Fun facts:
- Even though I'm a cat person, I really, really want a dog.
- I actually used to play sports. Because I don't do gendered leagues anymore, I don't play, but I've been looking for mixed/gender-neutral/queer sports teams. Baseball and basketball specifically!
- I started questioning my identity in 2019; I'm no closer to finding a label now than I was then. The difference is, now I don't want a label. I just am. :]
tags: @neonganymede @cha0ticlesbian @x-chiara @exceleo @brinnybee @autistic-katara @gandalfthemorallygrey @ohboyanotherlokiblog @roachandrenfri @ourflagmeanslokius @exceleo @edettethegreat @swiftlyspidey
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fayes-fics · 1 year
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Mrs Bridgerton
Mrs Bridgerton Masterpost
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU
Summary: Modern AU. Your ex-husband craves you in a way you had no idea about until one fateful call...
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Warnings: 18+ smut, minors dni, explicit language and thoughts, dirty talk, sexting, sex tape, masturbation, pregnancy kink, smidge of breeding kink. Mentions of marriage, divorce, pregnancy, custody, parenting, heartbreak, emotions. Bit angsty maybe? Not sure.
Word Count: 4.3k
Authors Note: This is an anon request fill from January here. (tldr summary: ex-husband Benedict can't stop thinking about you) Nonny, I changed up a couple of details of your ask; the porn he watches is your old sex tapes from when you were married. Also, he doesn't call once he was spent; he accidentally calls very much in the act ;) I hope that is okay. Guys, I have no idea what this is; sorry. Thanks to @colettebronte for checking I haven't completely lost it and @eleanor-bradstreet for the gif used above. <3
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“Mrs Bridgerton!.... Mrs Bridgerton!” A teacher calls out across the playing field as she jogs towards you. It takes you a few seconds to realise she is indeed addressing you. It's been a couple of years since you went by that name—almost a ghost from the past at this point.
“Ah, actually, it’s Ms y/l/n now,” you correct as she draws closer. “I’m, well, I’m divorced from Emilia’s dad,” you explain somewhat apologetically.
“Oh, I am so very sorry! I'm new here. I just asked her if her parents were here, and she pointed you out.”
“No, no, it’s okay. It's an entirely fair assumption to make,” you placate, shielding your eyes from the sun to catch Emilia's gaze and give her the thumbs up at the end of the grassy running track.
“Well, I just need one of you to sign this permission form for the trip to the Science Museum next week,” the teacher states, thrusting a clipboard towards you.
“Oh certainly, no problem,” you assure, taking the proffered pen and signing on the dotted line she indicates. You know how excited Emilia is about that upcoming trip, even though she insists on going to the museum with you or her father at least once every few months.
“Wonderful, thank you.”
You just nod as another teacher brings them all to the starting line with a blast from their whistle, and your focus shifts entirely to cheering on your five-year-old daughter in her first school race.
-----
He knows you haven't seen him, and he doubts even Emilia has clocked him, wearing a baseball cap pulled low as he is. He deliberately keeps a low profile when you arrive. He is here to see Emilia on her first sports day. Only that. Or so he keeps telling himself.
But then he sees you, and something in his stomach knots hard. It’s been more than two years, and still, every time, it floors him. A few months after your split, he took to using Eloise as the go-between for your shared custody arrangements and has never stopped. Since then, he has not seen you in person, too cowardly to face you. His biggest mistake was letting you go.
You met in your late twenties at a party hosted by mutual friends, and that night, he knew his life would never be the same. Something about the connection was instant and electric. He had the best sex of his life, right there in a spare room of a party. Both drunk and foolish, you didn't use protection. So it was only a few weeks into your burgeoning relationship when you found yourselves staring dumbfounded at a blue and white stick that would alter your lives forever. You married quietly two months later at the town hall, with just a few family members and close friends attending, neither of you wanting a big fuss. It was a big gamble in many ways, but you were both willing to try, crazily in love and filled with a youthful optimism that can be so blinding.
All was well until parenting a newborn drove you both to exhaustion and beyond. A wedge grew between you, even as your beautiful daughter developed into the best miniature version of both of you, with his beauty and your brains. You tried to make it work. But bickering about petty things and distancing became the only constant in your dynamic. Part of him had hoped Emilia would be enough glue to hold you together, but it was too much to pin on a small child. Just after her third birthday, he watched his world crumble as you tearfully packed up your possessions and took the light from his life with you.
And now. Now it's a regret that haunts him every day. Replaying the mistakes he made over and over, the ones that meant you slipped through his fingers. Too preoccupied with his career frustrations and plagued by chronic lack of sleep to realise the damage before it was irreparable. He knows now, too late, that with a little more effort and compromise, perhaps you would still be together as a family. He certainly never stopped loving and desiring you.
So when the teacher calls out Mrs Bridgerton, his heart almost stops beating and, to his shame, there is a stirring in his jeans. God, he wishes that was still your name, so much so there is a bitter taste in his mouth as he watches you correct the teacher in an endearingly accommodating way. A large part of him wants to leap up and grab you, lift you into his arms, beg that you use the name again. His name. But he doesn't; he just lingers in melancholic reverie, recalling with perfect clarity how it felt to push the white gold band shakily onto your left hand as you recited your vows.
Then with a sharp nearby whistle blow signifying the race start, his focus is pulled back to why he is here. His little wonder, the centre of his universe. Emilia Bridgerton. The most beautiful person on the planet. 
“Go, Emilia!!” he shouts, transfixed as his little girl moves out ahead of the pack, unthinking of anything but supporting his baby girl.
-----
Your head cuts to the side, and you freeze. You would recognise that voice anywhere. And how many Emilia’s can there be in the race?
He's not looking at you; his whole focus is on the field, but you can't seem to look away. Not even to watch your precious daughter. You haven't seen your ex-husband in more than two years. Using his sister as a go-between just seems like the best way to deal with your residual guilt about leaving him. But now? One look and your insides feel like you are falling down a chasm, lungs suddenly too small for the breaths you need to take.
Time seems to slow like molasses as you observe him. He’s wearing a baseball cap, almost akin to a disguise, but you can see underneath it that profile that still makes your heart flutter. Too much, really, considering you are exes. But his beauty was never the problem; it was part of the reason you always stayed. Those soulful eyes would draw you back every time. Those eyes that now haunt you daily, the Bridgerton genes far too strong not to override all of yours. Emilia is the prettiest little female version of your ex-husband you could ever imagine, and it's both your greatest joy and your greatest pain point, living with a growing reminder of the person who still owns your heart regardless of how much you might wish otherwise.
Looking back now, leaving him was an impetuous decision made from a place of utter exhaustion, not able to see a way out of the treadmill your lives had become at that time. But pride stopped you from admitting perhaps you made a mistake, serving divorce papers before you could think too hard about it. He didn't contest and agreed to all of your terms of custody without a fight. You didn't ask for spousal support; you earned more from employment anyway, most of his income coming from his trust. You never loved him for the Bridgerton name or fortune; in fact, sometimes, it felt like you loved him in spite of it. 
And now, one look at him, and you are breathless and in a complete emotional and, yes, physical quagmire. Your body yearning for him, your traitorous brain supplying image after tumbling image of intimacy, the likes of which you have never known before or since—warm bodies wrapped around each other in ecstasy, that velvet voice pleading with you to come with him, for him, always so eager. It makes your chest heave so hard you have to look away to regain composure, doing so just in time for the universe to seemingly return to normal speed, as you watch Emilia cross the line, victorious in her first-ever race. 
You cannot help it; you leap up and cheer too. And she looks over, beaming and jumping up and down. Running towards you and throwing herself into your arms as you kneel with a huge grin.
“Mummy mummy mummy!!” she peals excitedly, her breath gusting hard into your ear. “I did it! I won!”
“I know; well done!” you exclaim, rocking her happily in your arms. “You did wonderfully!!!”
“Did I see Daddy?” she asks, craning over your shoulder. You tense and swivel yourself to follow her eye line, but where he was standing just moments ago, there is now just an empty patch of grass.
“Oh, I don't think so, my love; it was probably someone else’s daddy who looks similar,” you suggest, the lie feeling odd on your tongue, It's obvious he doesn't want to be seen, and a part of you is grateful to avoid an awkward meeting. Emilia is still scanning the crowd, unconvinced by your assertion. “How about an ice cream from the van over there?” you offer cheerily, wanting to distract her from looking too hard for him.
“Okay!” she chimes happily, squirrelling a warm little hand into yours and pulling you towards the pedestrian gate. 
Out of the corner of your eye, you spy a navy blue Jaguar pulling out of the other gate and know without a doubt it was him.
-----
He couldn't do it. He thought he could, but he feels the weight of your stare and has to leave. The minute Emilia crosses the line, he gives a little victory punch and takes off. Not able to face you. So much of him wants to, but the gutless part of him apparently resides in his leg muscles. Before he knows it, he is in his car and pulling out onto the West London streets, not daring to look back. It's not his day to pick up Emilia; that's still two days away. He would not want you angry for overstepping the agreement you have in place.
As he pulls up at a traffic light, his phone pings a match on the dating app Anthony bullied him into downloading last week. The temptation to fling his phone right out the window is strong. The idea of being with someone else, especially after the tumult of seeing you today, just feels wrong. 
The only person he has slept with since your divorce was the second biggest mistake of his life. Someone he met at a bar celebrating Colin’s last birthday after too many whiskeys. A close enough facsimile to you that, through the haze of alcohol, he let himself be seduced. The lizard part of his brain somehow convinced it was you, even as she rode him in a way that chafed. Nothing like the way you moved, positively undulated, on his cock. Regret clung to his skin, the fug of hangover already kicking in as he watched her wordlessly re-dress and leave almost immediately, never exchanging numbers. He never saw her again. The fact he called your name as he came was probably the majority of the problem.
The only thing that stops him from flinging the phone is all the history it contains. Pictures of Emilia growing up from a tiny infant to now. But also his text exchanges with you, that increasingly he finds himself scrolling back through on self-indulgent nights, back to when things were good, and you would send each other little notes of love interspersed with sexting that; even now, he can barely read without getting hard. Unable to resist, as he waits for the light to go green, a dozen or more quick thumb flicks upwards on the thread for your previous number, and he finds some of his guilty pleasures.
8 March, 3:25 pm
Y/N: You had better plough me over the kitchen table when you get home xoxox
4 April, 5:02 pm
BB: Tough work day, need you, babe
Y/N: How’s this, daddy? 
Y/N: [photo of your naked glowing, slightly rounded pregnant body]
BB: Fucking helllllll, I am one lucky man
Y/N: Come home, fuck me, daddy
BB: You need to stop calling me that…
Y/N: Why? I am literally pregnant with your child.
BB: Yeah, and that’s why it's so wrong…
Y/N: Just get here, pls. I am so fucking wet….
He is pinch-zooming on the photo, head tilted, his tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth… when a car horn makes him jump, the phone slipping from his grip and falling onto his emergent hard-on. 
The traffic light has turned green. 
With an apologetic nod in the rearview mirror, he drives off, shaking his head, knowing it’s probably very wrong to be looking at pictures of you, his ex-wife, and wanting to fuck you so bad that his foot leans heavily on the accelerator. His blood pumping hard, already knowing he will be taking himself in hand the minute he gets to his place.
-----
Emilia is happily smushing the cone of her 99 ice cream in her little fist as you walk the few streets to your sister's place, where you left your car earlier. She has kindly agreed to let Emilia stay tonight and have a sleepover with her cousins. 
Later, you have your first date since your divorce, and you’ll probably need the rest of the late afternoon to psych yourself up enough to go. You've already cried off so many matchmaking attempts that you had to say yes eventually, just to stop the incessant badgering from all angles. Strangely, this one is Eloise’s doing, and you are still slightly weirded out that your ex-husband’s sister is engineering your first date in more than seven years.
Waving goodbye a few minutes later, you slip into your car and sit for a few deep calming inhales, trying not to think of how much Benedict stole your breath earlier. Some part of you thinks maybe you just imagined him there, a fevered mirage, your subconscious telling you to cancel this stupid date idea and stay home with your two best friends, Ben and Jerry. But then Ameila seemed to think he was there too, and honestly, it feels like you don't know what to do about anything anymore. 
-----
He wastes no time, flinging aside the cap, tossing his car keys onto the hallway table and sprinting upstairs to his bedroom, only pausing to insert his noise-cancelling earbuds and discard his clothing.
He is already leaking a little when he throws himself onto the bed and fists his cock with a groan. His other hand is hovering over the play button on the video he definitely knows he shouldn't be watching, hidden in a nondescript folder.
Your soft giggle tickles his eardrums as the video jolts to life. It's one he shot of you on his phone on your honeymoon—it’s one of his favourites lately.
“Bennnnn,” your voice a teasing murmur as the screen fills with a glimpse of your breasts, his hand trying to take a sweeping shot of your body as you writhe underneath him, both of you buried in a soft glow under a tent of sheets wrapped around your bodies.
His own younger self chuckles loud in his ears, behind the camera as he is, both of your breaths loud as the movement becomes more pronounced.
This is him fucking you and filming it. The camera pans down, and there, almost too tough to see in the grainy low light, is his cock surging into you; the shot is never still enough to see in full detail.
Somehow the lack of clarity makes it more of a turn-on. Benedict whines low as his hand moves in a firm motion, jerking hard, losing himself in reminiscence of what it is like to be buried inside you, your scent, younger you panting hard, pleading quietly for him.
His hand speeds up, and he gasps as the video grows more urgent, the noises so loud right in his ear. He can hear the delicious sound of your wet cunt around his shaft, and it's like a sense memory, that viscous heated cling he can never forget.  
“Ben, oh god Ben, you are so good, fuck me harder,” younger you moans loudly on the video, and both Benedicts, the old and new, couldn't resist that siren call.
“Y/n, oh god, give me your all, y/n,” Benedict growls, screwing his eyes shut, just relying on the auditory experience of the video now. 
But not realising with his slurred speech; it's just given his phone a command…
-----
You are driving towards your place when your hands-free car display lights up with the last name you expect.
Benedict.
Your stomach plunges. Just like earlier when you found yourself staring at him and reimagining so many things you know you shouldn't. You reach over and click the little green button to connect the call, heart in your mouth.
“Ben?” you say his name softly, almost timid. Worried about what it might mean after that strange non-encounter less than an hour ago.
The noise that greets you makes every hair stand on end. It's a throaty groan. He seems to hiss your name, and all you do is frown as your car speakers vibrate with the sound.
“Ben, are you okay?” you check.
“Oh god, I am more than okay, baby,” he growls, and every inch of your body is rioting. “Just please, please don't stop, fuck you feel so good. So tight and hot. I want to live inside you,” the words panted, desperate.
Your foot slips hard on the pedal, and you almost crash into a damn tree. 
-----
Your voice sounds different in his ear, and there is a background hum that wasn't there before, but he is so close to something so intoxicating he doesn't think to open his eyes and check the video.
“Talk to me,” he pleads low, knowing you on the video won't respond but somehow still wanting to talk to you regardless, “tell me how you feel.”
There is silence and then a slight shaky exhale. 
“Ben.”
“Yes, yes, yes, say my name,” he pleads, leaking over his own knuckle as his hand becomes a frenzy on his cock.
-----
You pull over, quaking. There is only one reason he uses that tone. That's his bedroom voice, and fuck if it doesn't make you as weak now as it did back then. You can only assume his phone has accidentally dialled you while he is what? Masturbating? You flush so hotly at the very thought, and yet you can’t school what you say next. Your treacherous libido taking command of your lips.
“Are you touching yourself for me, Ben?” you breathe, and your clothing suddenly feels too tight, too hot.
Your speakers vibrate your seat as he groans loud and lewdly, and it's a beeline straight for your clit, now throbbing insistently against your car seat.
“Yes baby,” he moans and now, in the background, you can hear it, a slight slapping sound, his cock passing through his fist. 
Your pussy clenches instinctually, and you feel a heavy pull, a depth charge of lust. Your lips tingle with the thought of kissing him, running your mouth over his body, wrapping around that cock you remember so well.
“I want you to come for me, Ben,” you plead, a hand straying down between your thighs, scarcely believing what is happening, what you are doing so brazen, parked up on the street mid-afternoon on a Wednesday.
“I will; oh god, I'm going to come so hard,” he snarls. “Do you want it inside you?”
Your fingers glance your clit over your yoga pants, and the heat is overwhelming. “Yes, Ben,” you pant, “inside me, give it to me, give me more of your beautiful babies.”
What you are saying is taboo. And so truthful you don't think to censor it. You would bear as many children as he wants to fuck into you. Still, even now.
“But you are already pregnant with my baby darling,” his voice taking on a softer edge, more wistful, “and you look so, so beautiful.”
You freeze.
“Benedict?” you say quietly.
“Yes, my love,” he purrs.
“Who do you think you are speaking to?” your ask is awkward, screwing your eyes shut, your hand moving away from the apex of your thighs. Suddenly mortified, perhaps it's not you that he thinks he is speaking to after all. Oh shit, did he get someone else pregnant? The panicked bile rises until he sighs the following words.
“Y/n, my wife, my life. God, I miss you so much. I know this must be a fever dream; I know we didn't talk like this in the video, but fuck if it doesn't sound so real,” he ends so wistfully.
“What video?” your question is slow, a weird weight on your chest that is your heart pounding out of control.
“Our honeymoon, darling,” he moans, and you can hear he is still masturbating, although slower-paced now. “When you let me video us fucking. I watch it so much these days that I'm surprised it's not worn out. And yet I can't not; every time I fuck my fist, it's to you.”
“You watch us? Every time you…?” your hand clutching your chest now.
“Yes, my love. I miss you so so much. I should never have let you go. You are my angel, the love of my life, the mother of my child and the only person I ever, ever want to fuck.”
The confession knocks your whole world off its axis. And you crave him. The feeling is so utterly all-consuming you struggle to take your next breath. You have to go to him. You have to see him. It's not even a choice not to. Every fibre of your being needs him.
“Ben,” you murmur, “don't come for me yet; I want to fuck you.”
“You do?” the hope in that gasp makes you lightheaded.
“Yes,” you breathe, “I miss your cock so much.”
You scramble to throw the car into gear and pull out into traffic. You are about a minute's drive away or less if he is home. Something in your movements so very urgent.
“Tell me what you are doing,” you whisper, trying your best to pitch the ask just the right level of seductive as you race down the road, turning into his street.
“I’m fucking my fist,” he moans, “but I wish it were you, my love.”
“I'm almost there,” you pant, pulling into his driveway with almost a squeal of tyres. You grab your phone and jump out of your car, crushing the handset to your ear as you run up to his front door and punch in a code, hoping it's still the one he uses. The crest of victory is palpable as the lock beeps and relents, the door popping open.
“Keep stroking yourself gently,” you order as you close the door and start to disrobe as you bound up the stairs.
“Y/n…” his voice is suddenly tremulant “this…. This isn't a dream, is it?”
“No, Ben, it's not,” you breathe, and you are down to your underwear as you skid into his bedroom, panting.
His eyes are wide with shock as you stride across the room, his cock still in hand and utterly naked; he looks just as delicious as the day you married him.
“Hello, Mr Bridgerton,” you purr.
“Y/n,” he stutters, and it's everything—surprise, desire, hope, relief, yearning and ardent.
“Call me Mrs Bridgerton,” you shoot back, and the responding noise he makes is so utterly feral you almost orgasm without so much as touching him.
-----
Eight months later
“Emilia, not there,” Benedict chuckles good-naturedly.
“Then where daddy?” her pout turns epic as she hands the offending item to him. “You do it!” she huffs.
“Okay, hold still,” he laughs and slides the small tiara into her hair. “See? Just perfect,” he opines, dropping a kiss onto her chestnut tresses.
“I look like a princess!” Emilia exclaims proudly, twisting to look into the mirror.
“Yes, you do,” Benedict concurs. “A pretty princess bridesmaid.”
“The prettiest,” you agree from the doorway, and both heads turn around and greet you with mouths that gape open.
“Oh, Mummy, you look like a real princess!” Emilia gasps, running towards you and giving you a quick hug before skipping out of the room gleefully as her grandmother Violet calls her name from downstairs.
“You look breathtaking,” his tone full of wonderment as he slowly gets to his feet, his eyes never leaving you. “But isn't it bad luck for me to see you like this?” he adds with a flash of concern.
You move towards him, and him towards you, drawn together. “I think we’ve had all the bad luck we are going to have,” you smirk, very much enjoying the sight of him in a sharp, custom-tailored suit. “At least I hope so, seeing as we have this thing to deal with,” you raise an eyebrow, pointing to your five-month bump.
“Thing? Darling, I thought we agreed; his name is Henry,” he sighs in mock indignation, his large hands skating around the swell of your belly, his lips warm on your temple.
“When did I agree to that name?” you frown amiably.
“Last night,” he responds silkily, right into your ear now.
“Oh no, you can’t possibly hold me to that,” you decry. “Anything said when inside me is null and void, Mr Bridgerton; you know I can barely remember my own name at that point.”
His rich chuckle vibrates against your whole body. “Well, let me remind you….”
“I’m listening,” you sigh, eyes closing as you sway into his hot neck kisses.
“It's Mrs Bridgerton,” he rumbles. “Or it will be again in about an hour.”
“I can't wait”, you whisper. “Say it again.”
“Mrs Bridgerton,” A dark, slow tease. 
You are almost late for your own (second) wedding just downstairs.
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Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus
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pineappleciders · 1 year
Note
ayo can i request a male (or gn if you prefer) adult reader adopting tweek, butters and kenny? bc i love those kids but they all deserve much better parents than the ones they have in canon.
masc adult reader adopting tweek, butters, and kenny (and a bit of karen)
A/N: i've never gotten to do a male reader b4 so i'm glad you asked!!!! these r kinda separate to keep it simple, also reader is referred to as dad :)
TRIGGER WARNING: SA and abuse mentions, drugs (obviously)
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tweek tweak
first things first, you start weaning him off the coffee. you still give him smaller doses for awhile just to keep him stable and with no withdrawal
if you send him to rehab, he'd definitely be a little scared. so you pack his backpack and lunch and pat him on the head and send him off, telling him to text you if he needs anything
he's always coming into your room in the middle of the night gripping his pillow and pulling his hair.
"dad, the gnomes! t-they're back, AGH!"
"tweek, i thought we went over this..."
it can be a little difficult to calm him down sometimes, so you two practice breathing exercises in case you aren't there to help him
he carries around a little card keychain that you made for him with comforting words and grounding techniques. he carries it everywhere and attaches it to his bookbag!!
you put the coffee pods on the highest cupboard shelf so he can't reach them. he hasn't tried to reach them (as far as you're aware)
you try to smooth down his hair and brush it out but it somehow always pops back up. also his hairline is fucked. so are his teeth. he's a little fucked up in every way but you love him anyways
butters stotch
with butters, it's apparent that negative discipline is not the route here. you instead opt to use positive reinforcement when he obeys and does stuff right
you're not a pushover by any means, but you are a lot less strict than his biological parents.
he gets a little confused sometimes when he doesn't get shouted at or blamed for something he didn't do. like he walks in the door expecting to get yelled at but you just hug him and ask how his day at school was
he's really glad he can actually have friends over now. his friends are always commenting on how cool his new dad is compared to his old one
butters has learned to not talk about his trauma and past. he was always taught to bury it deep down and never mention it to anybody. so when he randomly blurts out how his uncle molested him at dinner, he's confused when you look horrified
he loves to play sports in the backyard with you!!! his old dad never really spent time with him, so he has the absolute time of his life playing ball with you. it becomes one of his best core memories
he likes to draw with crayons a lot so he always draws pictures of you and him like under a rainbow or something and you always hang it up on the fridge. you're quickly running out of room for his art
kenny mccormick
as soon as he gets home and you give him the OK to eat he is eating everything in your house
turns out it's really difficult for a 9 year old to properly grow on a diet of frozen waffles and dust bunnies. you're shocked when you're preparing his bath and he's a lot skinnier and shorter than the other kids
honestly if u adopt him then you have to adopt karen too. and kevin if you want. but preferably karen.
nothing makes kenny happier than knowing she's sleeping in a warm bed with a full stomach. it's just a bonus that he is too!!
like butters, he loves to play sports with you. specifically catch and baseball. he also forces you to play barbies with him and do a high-pitched girl voice
loves to fall asleep in your lap/in your arms. like he'll fall asleep mid-piggy back ride and just snore on your shoulder
always flexing on cartman that now that he isn't the poorest kid that cartman is now. cartman hates u for it
always wants a sip of your morning coffee and waits for karen to finish her food before finishing his. it's a force of habit and it's kind of sad but also really sweet
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alessiathepirate · 5 months
Text
Until Dawn
A SMALL JOY: Josh Washington x fem!reader
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Summary: Taking Dr Hill's advice, Josh and his lover go up to the lodge and look through all the things his sisters had left behind - after an interesting find she does her best to take his mind off the sadness he's experiencing.
Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may have made while I wrote this short story.
To be honest, Until Dawn is still one of my favourite horror games. Thanks to the game I found my favourite YouTube channel, my English improved a lot because I wanted to understand every word, and I have a huge crush on Rami Malek to this very day. Me and my friends were obsessed with him the time the game came out, and soon started to watch more of his work together.
Josh Washington was one of my first fictional crushes, I could defend him for years without getting tired and I drew him so many times I actually learned how to draw portraits correctly.
There's a gameplay I like to rewatch every year, because of the great memories I have connected to it. I always fall in love with Josh Washington once again - and thanks to that tradition, I started to write for him as well.
Warnings: a bit of swearing, mentioned depression and loss, mentioning the Washington sisters' disappearance and/or death
•••
° "(...) We would come up in the summer and we would have the best time. The whole family was there - mom, dad, my sisters. It was some serious competition out there on the big lawn... I don't know. Can't go back. New reality." °
She listens carefully, noticing every little pitch or drop in Josh's voice as he speaks - and as he puts down the baseball bat all she can think about is grabbing him and pulling him into a hug, a tight one, the kind that is both loving and comforting. She watches him, she examines his every little move and her heart aches every single time she finds a new sign of sadness.
She hates it.
She hates that look on his face. She hates that change in his voice. She hates that he feels alone. She hates that the whole case is making him go crazy. She hates that nothing is certain and he can't even grieve.
She hates that he had to change so much; that he had to become this depressed because of some stupid, messed up prank their friends had decided to pull on his sister.
He didn't deserve any of it. He doesn't deserve any of it. None of the Washington kids do.
Coming up here was already hard - back to the mountain where Hannah and Beth disappeared, where they played around like stupid teenagers do. Dr Hill said it's for the best - Josh needs some closure, some proof that he needs to slowly start to move on. She thinks it's bullshit - Josh thinks so too. It won't be easy to put yourself through something like this.
But regardless, they came. They are here now, looking through the rooms, the basement...
The memories are hurting her - and if she as a friend is hurting this badly than Josh must suffer a lot.
"Teach me." the words suddenly burst out before she can stop them, wanting to make Josh concentrate on something else - not wanting him to get lost in his own mind.
"What?" the question is loud in the basement.
"Teach me how to play." she continues on, feeling unsure like she tries to cross a very thin and sensitive line. "I've never played baseball before."
"It's been a while since I did so." Josh starts to explain, his gaze falling on the bat he put down. "You really- want to?"
She steps closer to him slowly, carefully, as if she tries to get close to a very scared and wounded animal. She touches his arm, her fingers hold him as her thumb brushes along his skin in an up and down motion. She leans towards him, her face touching his shoulder as she presses a kiss to the area what isn't covered by his t-shirt.
"You don't have to if you don't want to." she whispers. "I know it's not-" she holds that thought and says something else instead: "I just haven't seen you play yet and I want to join in."
Josh looks at her over his shoulder, he looks at her as she tries to smile even if her eyes stay sad. He watches her like she's the only thing he has left, like she's the only person who matters anymore. He looks at her and feels something break inside, realizing that she really is the only one who he has.
"All right." he says and when he sees her eyes change a tiny bit - showing a bit of happiness - he feels his heart flutter. It makes him feel better, it makes him want to touch her too, putting his hand over hers - over the one which is still clinging onto his arm. "As long as you promise me you won't accidentally hit yourself with the bat."
And there's what he wanted to see - her expression changes, playful offence takes the sadness' place and she gently hits his back.
"Hey! I wouldn't do that."
"You totally wouldn't." his sarcasm earns him another punch and despite the situation and the place, he feels like he got something back.
The last time they bickered like this was half a year ago, the night his sisters had disappeared. They drank and played around until they started to make out in the kitchen, only stopping when Chris stepped inside the room wanting some booze for himself.
As they climb the stairs hand in hand they both feel somewhat relieved. They found a kind of small joy, a bit of happiness - something what they had left here months ago. Josh chuckles when she trips and almost falls, she feels excited as he hands her the baseball bat outside.
"Since there're only the two of us here, I think it's best I teach you how to hit the ball and not yourself."
"I'm not that clumsy Mister!" she tries to sound offended, but it doesn't work.
"I know you too well, girl; and I don't trust you with that at all."
Josh stands behind her, keeping a gentle hold on both of her arms as he explains how to stand and how to hold the bat. She chuckles when he playfully tickles her and this time she doesn't feel guilty about laughing. Before he lets go of her to throw the ball, he gives her a short hug and presses a kiss into the crook of her neck.
She misses the first time...
and the second time; and the third time...
She misses and Josh laughs and she thinks it's the most beautiful sight she's ever seen.
They change positions after a while and no matter how she throws, Josh never misses - not even once. He hits the ball every single time and it flies and lands far away.
She has the feeling that in that very moment, doing that very thing they both feel somewhat complete. She feels like Josh's smiles are honest, his laughs are honest and she forgets about Dr Hill and his stupid advice.
"No shit you like to play it." she says after a while as the both of them are lying in the grass, her head resting on Josh's arm. "It is fun."
"Believe me darling, it is much more fun when you actually hit the ball." his voice has a teasing edge to it and for a moment she thinks about turning towards him and hitting him playfully once again - but she doesn't.
Instead - hoping to get something more, trying to get a kind of good change out of him, she says: "I will, after a bit more training. You'll teach me, I have no doubt about that."
Josh turns towards her, gently touching her face and playing with her hair. She tries to read his face and she realizes that he understands what she's playing at. She wonders if he'll get upset or sad... but she gets an answer pretty quickly.
"I will - of course I will. You'll be the best player in this damn country."
The muscles in her face twitch and she feels like she'll cry. It's been so long, so long since Josh smiled and laughed that now seeing it again feels like a whole new experience. She doesn't want to leave the place or the moment. It's too nice.
"Better than you?"
"Way better." he promises and lets go of the lock of hair he's been playing with. "I love you, you know that, right?"
She feels frozen at the question and starts to wonder where it's coming from. The doubt in his voice, the softness in his eyes... He deserves the world, he deserves everything in it and he deserves to know that he does enough for her - she feels his love and every single emotion and action it causes.
"Of course I do... I know." she promises. "I love you too. And I'm here for you, no matter what."
It's her turn to lean in and she kisses him, making sure the kiss is soft and calm. She wants to make him feel whole and safe. She wants him to be happy.
They lay back down and stay quiet for a bit, enjoying the sunlight and the light summer breeze. She feels like she could melt. Melt into the feeling and moment forever, without ever getting bored.
"You know," Josh starts suddenly, his voice soft and unsure. "it's been a while since I've taken you out on a date."
"It's fine, Josh. These past months weren't exactly the best."
"No... I know." for a few moments he stays silent, not knowing what to say. "All I want to say is I have a few movies here we can watch and we can have a nice time before we-"
"-go back to them." she finishes, understanding what he means.
Them. All the friends, all the family members and pals who show an annoying amount of pity. All of those people who try to comfort Josh when doesn't want to do anything with them. The people who make him feel worse than better.
"I'd love that." she smiles at him as he turns towards him and hugs him. "But no horror."
"No horror." Josh nods.
It wouldn't be good for either of them.
She kisses his shoulder as they get going, stretching their muscles, before climbing the stairs to go and find the movies Josh was talking about.
As they look over his DVDs while hugging, all she can think about is how unfair life is, because Josh doesn't deserve any of the problems life threw at him...
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after-witch · 1 year
Text
And the Danger Danger Drawing Near Them [Yandere Tomura Shigaraki x Reader]
Title: And the Danger Danger Drawing Near Them [Yandere Tomura Shigaraki x Reader]
Synopsis:  This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening, because this only happens to other people. Not to you.
For Horrorfest request: Shigaraki Tomura + Because you were home.”
Word Count: 1121
notes: yandere themes, kidnapping, wanton destruction of doors
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This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening, because this only happens to other people. Not to you. It only happens to those unfortunates who show up on the news, people with unassuming smiling faces in older photographs, which look nothing like the shocked and dusty and bloody witnesses and victims interviewed in the aftermath on the news.
No, things like this can only happen to those people, not you, not you, not you--
“I don’t see her. Did she jump out a window?” A low voice, bored, annoyed.
But it is happening. It is happening because you are pressed up against the back of your closet, in the dark, listening to a group of villains rummage through your home. You thought at first that they were trying to rob you, but then… then you heard someone call your name. So you hid. And now you’re here, listening, shaking, hearing them look for you.
And surely, it’s only a matter of time before they get to the bedroom.
To the closet.
To you.
Never before have you loathed the fact that your house is isolated.  You used to love it, because it meant you had lots of privacy and no one bothered you, way out of the way as you were. But now? It means no one will hear you if you scream. It means no neighbor is around to see the broken door and call for help.
It means you’re screwed.
“Dunno. You said she was home, right Tomura?.” A giggle. It’s a girl talking. She sounds so young. “Maybe she’s playing hide and seek!”
The way these voices talk so casually, even friendly, as they stalk throughout your home is terrifying and confusing all at once. They’re talking like they’re looking for something at the grocery store, not breaking and entering and… you don’t even want to know what they are planning to do with you.
What would they want with you, anyway? You’re nobody.Your quirk is so mundane that your parents didn’t even try to puff you up with ideals of becoming a Hero or anything adjacent to that line of work. You’re not famous or rich or important. You’re just--
“She’s probably hiding in the bedroom.” A pause. Then, “Stay here. I’ll go get her myself. Be ready to leave.”
It’s this voice that scares you the most. Not only because the words--at those, your fingers grip the fabric of your pajamas so tight, it feels like you might break them--but because… you’ve heard it before. Just once. Earlier today. 
You had hopped out of the shower, not bothering to dress, not even bothering to close your bedroom curtains--because it’s not like anyone was around to see, right? You were idly drying your hair with a towel, watching the news, something about another villain attack in the city nearby. The villains weren’t apprehended, and were still at large. It made you a little nervous, sure, but you trusted in the Heroes to track them down soon enough.
And then, just loud enough for you to pick it up as an actual voice and not some jumbled mistake of your tired mind, you heard someone speak.
“You’re pretty.”
It was low and husky and immediately sent chills up your spin.  You had turned around, heart thumping, but there was no one there. You even went over to the window, expecting to catch a peeping Tom but… no one. Perhaps the leaves were rustling a bit more outside? But it must have been your imagine.
There was no one there…
Except there was.
And you can hear him coming up the stairs.
Your eyes dart around the darkness of your closet. Looking for something. Anything. A weapon, maybe? You wish, quickly, briefly, awfully, that you had taken up your dad’s offer to buy you a baseball bat--”just in case.”
With shaking hands, you rip a dress from the bar behind you and pull the hanger out. The fabric swishes against your leg as it drops, leaving you with nothing but a velvet hanger and the metal hook, which you grasp with both hands and hold out in front of you protectively.
As if it might actually hurt him--and help you.
The sounds of his steps on the staircase seem punctuated and slow. Is he toying with you? You can hear dim conversation from the others downstairs, but nothing comes clear. It’s as if your mind is slowly being dragged underwater from the fear. Everything it muddled, low, dragging. Except your heart rate, and your body, which thrums and shakes.
Your bedroom door creaks open.
“I know you’re in here.”
You swallow down bile.
There’s a horrible scratching sound, nails dragging along your wall, and you can’t help but jerk at the sudden noise.
“Come out. I don’t want to stay here that long.” 
It’s short and simple and a command. You have no intention of obeying. Your hands grip the hanger tighter, and you’re dimly aware of how sweaty you are; all you can think is, if you attack first, as soon as he opens the door, maybe you have a shot. Maybe you can get out of this. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
The footsteps on your padded carpet stop in front of the closet door.
Silent tears stream down your cheeks. You wish this wasn’t happening. You wish you lived somewhere else. You wish--
The closet door doesn’t open. Instead, it disintegrates, crumbling into dust. Some if it catches in your eye and your tears come harder as you blink, confused and horrified all in one terrible stomach-churning mixture.
The man standing in front of what used to be your closet door looks familiar.  Because, like his voice, you’d seen him earlier that day. On the television, in the report about the latest attack.
But now instead of a somewhat blurry shot of him running away with a group of other villains, he’s here, in front of you. High-definition, surrounded by the swirling dust of the door.
He smiles, all chapped lips, scabs. You don’t know why a villain who just attacked a few city blocks would ever be smiling at you, and finding out seems like the worse outcome in the world.
“Let’s go. “ There’s no teasing in his voice, only practicality and the assumption that you’ll listen. As if you already know that you should do what he says, when he says it. Something about you bristles, but you can’t focus on that, with all the fear choking you down.
He glances down at your hands, which are still shaking and grasping the hanger as if it’s a lifeline. 
“Unless you really want to try to stab me with that?”
You don’t move as he reaches out and grips the metal end of the hanger. Your fingers are still tight even as it disintegrates in your hands. You stare down dumbly as the pile of ashes, which landed on your feet, piling on the crumpled fabric of your dress on the floor.
Slowly, you look back up at the man, who is staring at you with some terrible expectations that you don’t want to meet. 
You wish you weren’t home.
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heartfullofleeches · 1 year
Text
Convenience Store
Yandere Goddess x G.N Reader
Genre/Tags: Comedic Horror, Yandere| Mentions of blood and death
Word count: 1k
-
She's late again.
This is the sixth time in a row that your coworker has shown up late for work. You both work in a crappy convenience store in the middle of nowhere, where you and her are the only employees; aside from constantly changing your manager whom you never hear from unless they're screaming into the telephone.
Ding - Ding
The sliding doors' sensor alerts you to a new arrival with a friendly jingle. You know it could only be one person - since you never actually got any customers. The woman pulls off her coat and baseball cap with the line of "People fear me, Fish want me" crudely drawn on with a marker, and sits both on the floor by the coat rack. She coincidentally happens to be wearing a shirt with the same line and poor penmanship.
She strolls over to the frozen drink machine; creating a concoction of each flavor - and a bottle of an energy supplement. She, at least, makes her way to the counter; finishing the drink in a few gulps. She grins at you, eyes hidden behind red riffs of hair.
"Heya, Y/n. How's my favorite cashier?"
"Hey, Salem."
She scoffs at the nickname. "I told you that's not my name. You know what it is."
You really didn't. She never told you what it was or wore her badge. You started calling her that due to the brand of cigarettes she smoked, and created quite the tab on. You didn't care much either way, especially since you had plans after work.
"Can you hurry up and clock in? I'll be late to my appointment so they can take off this cast."
A day before your first shift, you got into an accident that broke your right arm. They still made you come in the next day, bit Salem was nice enough to draw a skull as well as write her phone number on it. Over the phone your doctor informed you that today was the day. You hope you'll be able to find the hospital in time.
Salem wiping a blood stain off the counter before she leabs against it. "Yeah, it's about that time. I made sure to give the guy who did it an extra swing before I threw him in the woodchipper."
"Thanks?"
She sighs. "I'm gonna miss all this?"
"Are you quiting or something?"
"No, but you are in a way. You're finally waking up."
"What are you talking about?"
Salem pulls out a lighter, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from behind you. "There's something I gotta tell you, Y/n."
"Okay?"
"You're dead."
"...o...kay"
"You were sacrificed by a cult to awake a being of unspeakable power. One they believed could gift them that same power, but it doesn't want that. It just wants to destroy. Been doing that for quite some time now."
"Alright."
"I'm that being, Y/n. I've kept you in this limbo for what feels like months, but has only been 48 hours. It took me a while to figure out how put you back together. It was like working with wet play-doh that kept falling apart and had bones."
"I sorta figured that out by now."
"Right. What you probably haven't figured out is that I'm in love with you. I've done this little song and dance before, but there's something about you that I can shake from my mind. I'm not even technically that God. I'm one of its meals that took over after it was killed. That's how its immortally works. Pretty vicious cycle."
Salem lights her cigarette, taking a long drag as she pats you on the back. "I'm only telling you this as a caution for what you're about to see. It ain't pretty, and I'm not either - but I don't have any plans of letting you go. I've decided to turn a new leaf. Peace and love, and all that. Less someone tries to take ya from me again.. See you in a few, Y/n."
She finally clocks in. You head to the store's exit, a white light beyond its reach. You had questions, but they would have to be left to another time as your body moves on its own. The door chimes once more as you take your final exit.
-
You wake on the floor of a large cabin; a foul stench in the area and piles of bodies around you. An outstretched arm lies in front of you - and nothing more. A familiar jacket is thrown over your body; your own clothes sticky and cold from the puddles of blood around you - one centering from right beneath you. You slowly sit up, remembering what happened before you died.
You were on your way home from work and had to take a side road due to construction. While making your way, a truck plowed into your car; knocking you out cold. You woke back up right before they slit your throat.
A frightened scream draws your attention to the front of the room; the alter where your life was stolen. A cult member is held in the large fist of a near indescribable figure. Its head scraps the ceiling; back turned so all you can see is the tail coat of its attire and the edge of the mask that hides its upper face. The pinkish tendrils that flow from its head weave together in what you could best describe as a lion's mane. It pulls back the mask that covers its face, a multitude of black tongues sweeping across the cult member's face before separate pairs of jaws are clamp around their body. It drops what's left of the corpse like a discarded rag; turning its head upon you.
It steps forward, a mist enveloping its body as it moves. As the fog shrinks and clears, you're left staring at your old coworker who greets you with a wide grin - fixing her cap on her head as she holds out her arms.
"Welcome back, baby! Gathered a welcoming party just for ya!"
Salem walks over, taking her jacket from your lap and putting it on before offering you her hand.
"Hope you don't forget everything I told you. Let's go get something to eat, I'm starving."
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Text
Hey, you should watch Kyo Kara Maoh, and here’s why:
I feel like, when I try to get people into Kyo Kara Maoh, all I ever say about it is “You know how there’s this thing in shounen anime where there’s always some rival character that makes you wonder if he’s kinda gay for the protagonist? Yeah, in this one, it’s canon, and blatant about it. It doesn’t make you wonder for a second. It’s just upfront about it and you can watch him being gay on main the whole time.”
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But like, that’s not the only reason I like the anime. Far from it. It’s just what I think is most likely to draw a new fan in. But it really is just a solid story with or without that.
It’s an isekai--and I know, I know, isekai are a dime a dozen now, but at the time this came out the only thing I really had to compare it to was Chronicles of Narnia--about a guy who goes back and forth between our world and a fantasy world where magic exists.
And he’s your typical plucky shounen protagonist, energetic and kind and willing to make friends with absolutely anyone. You know the type. Not really covering any new ground there. But unlike One Piece or Naruto or, I don’t know, Black Clover, he has no interest in becoming the best of the best. He kind of just wants to go home and be a kid and play baseball.
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But the thing is, he’s king of this world by divine right. He was chosen to become king before he was born and he’s just been left to incubate in our world until he was older. His whole family has always known this, though he doesn’t find out until he’s magically pulled into the world and it’s sprung on him right away. And he wants nothing to do with it at first. It’s not something he has to do, either. He’s given the option of turning down the position and going home.
But.
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There’s been this cold war going on between magic-users (”Mazoku” or “Demons” though the use of “demon” is more of a reclaimed slur than anything literal) and non-magic-users (humans). The real bloodshed has been put on hold for a while, but there’s a real threat of that cold war turning hot at any second. There are laws against humans and Mazoku being in romantic relationships, their mixed children face severe prejudice both from the people and institutionally, for instance being shoved into ghettos and left to starve, and tensions are high. And the protagonist realizes quickly that these people have been living this way for so long that peace is not going to happen naturally. They need someone with fresh eyes who can see that peace is possible. And that someone needs to be in a position of power to do something about it.
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So the protagonist accepts the job. Not because he wants to--he HATES it; there are so many scenes of him complaining about all the paperwork and the struggles of trying to learn the cultural norms and mores of surrounding nations so he doesn’t fuck something up in his position of power and accidentally start the war he’s trying to prevent just by unintentionally insulting another nation’s leader or something--but because he feels responsible. He has to do something to bring peace to this land because he might be the only person who has both the power and the good intentions to do so. Hell, the MacGuffin of the series is the protagonist trying to steal four magical nukes from other countries so he can seal them away where they can’t be used. (They’re just wooden boxes, nothing impressive about their appearance. Not romanticized at all. They’re as boring and dangerous as war.)
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And that’s...basically the series. Kid gets sucked into a fantasy world and becomes a king because he actually has a political agenda to make the world a better place and he saves the world with the help of a found family of nobles who are fondly exasperated by his incessant pacifism because they don’t think it’s reasonable, until he gradually and sincerely starts to change their mind and they all reevaluate their own prejudices. (And the prejudice reevaluation is really subtle, too. They don’t have big awakening moments like, “Wow, I’m not racist against half-humans anymore!” They just...slowly get better and bit by bit see the world the way the protagonist does.)
Other little details you might want to know are:
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The protagonist has a Yu-Gi-Oh-esque alter ego. (The anime is from the mid-2000s, after all.) The protagonist himself isn’t super skilled in magic, despite having the ability to use it, and it’s...left kind of vague, but it seems like the magic itself takes over his body from time to time. But it’s not as helpful as that trope usually makes it. His alter ego is basically a big self-destruct button. It’s just an eruption of power that leaves the protagonist unconscious nearly every time. The typical result is that he wakes up a day later with his head in the gay rival’s lap and the two of them in a cell because, guess what, passing out on a battlefield isn’t super convenient. The alter ego is treated a bit like training wheels the protagonist needs to grow out of, and it’s extremely cathartic when the final conflict of the series is solved without the alter ego. Not because the protagonist can use strong enough magic that he doesn’t need to lose control to get the same result, but because the solution is not to use magic at all. To put his money where his mouth is and show himself as the pacifist leader he spends the whole show trying to be.
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The protagonist is the reincarnation of someone who died in the war, a woman who overexerted herself trying to heal the injured. Unlike the alter ego, the protagonist’s connection to this woman is treated as a strength rather than a weakness. She, like the protagonist, wanted peace, but unlike the protagonist, she wasn’t the king and lacked the power to achieve that peace. Her gentle and kind heart shines through in the protagonist’s nature and actions, and those around him who knew her, and who know that he is her next life, can’t help but see how little she’s changed from one life to the next. All the features the protagonist inherited from her, that were treated as feminine, are his biggest strengths. This shounen anime is so far from toxic masculinity and it’s beautiful.
To be entirely transparent, this is an older anime, and as such, there are some problematic tropes that were common around that period. For instance, “Hahah an adult is creeping on a teenager, that’s funnie.”
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I’m not the biggest fan of that, either, don’t worry. I acknowledge this as a flaw in the show. But if Master Roshi and Shigure could get away with it while DBZ and Fruits Basket are still beloved series, I’m willing to roll my eyes and overlook Gunter and Cheri as well.
And another thing I feel I should be transparent about is that the first half of the first season A) Is devoted to fleshing out the characters and the world, and B) Doesn’t have the best animation quality. What that means is that you’re going to have to sit through some wonky drawings and not a whole lot of plot for the first twenty episodes or so. But there’s a point--I won’t get into spoilers, but the shift is VERY obvious--where the plot really kicks into gear halfway through the first season. The animation quality starts to skyrocket at around the same time, and the entirety of the second season is absolutely BEAUTIFUL.
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Also one of the supporting characters is this beautifully tragic character who is slow to trust the protagonist because he’s half-human and he’s never had a reason to believe in a leader before. It’s treated not as a thing that character needs to get over, but as a completely reasonable doubt, and the protagonist understands that. He actually gives that character quite a bit of power--basically the keys to a very powerful weapon--and tells him, more or less, that if they ever need that weapon, it’s up to him to decide if they get to use it. Like the equivalent of giving a post-WW2 Japanese refugee the full power to veto the use of hydrogen bombs, and I love that. ...This character, who is very serious and very cool, is also a drag queen. This removes nothing from how cool he is. He’s still an utterly sincere character, because this show is cool as fuck.
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Last thing: What I’m advertising here is the first two seasons of the show. It’s something like 80 episodes. That was where the anime proper ended and should have stayed ended, imo. I know some people like the third season, but the first two seasons tell a complete and extremely satisfying story whereas I find the third season (as well as the OVAs) has the vibe of a straight-to-video sequel to a great movie that tried its hardest to further a great story but only managed to invalidate all the original movie’s strongest moments by making them suddenly mean nothing in the face of new information. If you want my advice, stop where the story was originally designed to end and only watch the first two seasons. (I’m also saving you from having to look at the bad CGI skeletons. You don’t want to look at the bad CGI skeletons.)
Those first two seasons, though? Go. Go watch them. Watch them right now. They’re so fucking good. You won’t regret it, I promise.
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yae-energy · 5 months
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╰┈─✩ ˚ ‧ random thoughts : 2 ‧ ˚
✧˖° synopsis : more random hc’s cause why not (the manga is crushing my soul)
✧˖° cast and crew : yuta okkotsu, maki zenin
.ᐟ content warnings : cursing (cause when am i not)
⤑ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ authors note : idk yall i just wanted to post 😭 i got at least 3 more ideas i wanna do.
~
yuta <3
- really good at math for absolutely no reason at all, mental math specifically cause istg this man is like a fucking calculator
- was a nightcore kid (BADDDDDDDLYYY)
- used to be a really big harry potter fan for a while
- loves musicals. like, LOVES musicals
- will say a lot of stuff ironically to the point where it actually becomes unironic and it annoys everybody to hell and back. but he genuinely cannot stop 😭
- vocal stims with the most annoying tiktok audios
- loves carrots and hummus and doesn’t like celery
- he love’s halloween and always matches costumes with inumaki
- his biggest pet peeves are gum popping and squeaky noises. like he will genuinely get so pissed off if he hears either of those things
- is really good at board games & card games, like he’ll really whoop your ass in some uno tbh (which is why no one plays with him) and pls don’t let him get his hands on them draw 4’s or it’s absolutely over for everybody. (and it’s even worse if they’re playing train. like he loses friends afterwards)
*before each turn he’s like “😬 sorry guyssss” (he’s in fact, not sorry)
*also is unnecessarily good at monopoly, like he racks up all the properties so quickly and everyone always thinks he’s cheating
- has really bad eczema (mainly gets it on his neck and it’s reallyyyyyy bad in the winter)
maki <3
- lactose (and still consumes dairy but like…at what cost girlie ☹️)
*also has horrible indigestion
- likes strawberries but hates strawberry flavored things. do NOT give her no strawberry flavored NOTHING or she will fight you
- is a sparkling water enjoyer (inumaki and panda clown her for this everyday and have been since they met her)
- doesn’t like bananas, she has a visceral HATRED for them i tell you. nobody knows why either but that’s just the way it is.
- COFFEE LOVERRRR (loads that shit up with creamer and sugar)
- loves doing crossword puzzles (and puzzles in general)
- really good at chess and ESPECIALLY checkers (she’s just really good at most games tbh, she doesn’t know how either)
- her glasses are always dirty LMAO (same girlie, same)
- really likes baseball, like really really likes it 😭
- adding onto the coffee one: she is an ice coffee FANN. everytime she’s mad one of the second years brings her an iced coffee and she’s completely ok again.
- she’s a dnd girlieeee !!! and she plays with yuta and inumaki when they all have time
- hates reading anything because she just doesn’t feel like it (and she’s impatient) so she gets yuta to read it for her 😭
- is one of those people where if you ask her to do something she’ll instantly say no but do it anyways 💀
- really good at mimicking people’s voices and copying signatures (like it’s actually terrifying)
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⤑ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ tags : @morosis-haze @jogeto @mypimpademia @zairene @planetlunaa @cosmiles @milesmolasses @chinieh @romiantic @stqrriichiigo
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if you wish to be tagged in any future works, here’s my tag form to fill out <33
if you wish to submit a request, here’s my ask box :)
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⤑ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ closing notes : took wayyyyy longer than i needed to finish this ! (just the life of being an adhd girlie 😋‼️) but pt.2 to this will come out shortly
also notice how i cannot SHUT THE FUCKKK up about these two like they did NOT need to be this long, do i care though? not really !!
now i’m onto these fuck ass tags 🙄
anyhow, love y’all 🫶🏽
update as of posting : it did take me over a month to post this i won’t lie…mb 😭
- xoxo, yves <3
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gamerdog1 · 1 month
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Samurai Champloo Review
What the hell even is a 'champloo' anyways? Ever since one fateful Passover seder, where my older cousin told me about this series, I've wondered about it. Its certainly not English, and though a quick Google search could give me my answer, the mystery of it all kept this show on my radar for nearly a decade. Its not often that a show with a title as puzzling as this get popular, especially enough for my slacker cousin to recommend it to me. With a recommendation like that, though, I knew there was something special about it.
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Samurai Champloo is a strange breed. Created in 2004 by Masaru Gotsubo, and animated by defunct studio Manglobe, the series follows a trio of miscreants on a journey to find a mysterious samurai. Along the way, they dodge the law, fight assassins, and discover how hard it is to be a minority in a changing world.
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Champloo's biggest draw is it's style. The series features a modern-style Edo that keeps the historical dress and architecture, but adds a contemporary kick everywhere else. The opening alone sets the tone perfectly: sharply colored characters, juxtaposed onto paper-like backgrounds, moving to a hip-hop flow. Its stylish, like an old-school music video, and draws you in in seconds with its funky beat and striking visuals. Its the perfect opening, and things only get cooler from there.
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The Edo of this anime features a mix of traditional Japanese and modern North American styles, presented in a way that sets it apart from the rest. Its a show where you might find a samurai sword fight set to record scratches, or characters wistfully embarking on a journey while hip-hop music plays in the background. Early episodes use these scratches in the soundtrack as editing cues, cross-cutting between actions at the sound to create a wholly unique experience. It can't be overstated how much the musical styles of this anime make the viewing experience shine.
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On top of that, much of the content of the show's episodes takes pages from a more modern handbook. One episode has the main trio caught up in the world of graffiti, as two brothers compete to see who can 'tag' the most dangerous places. Another has them play against American traders in a overly-violent game of baseball. All the while, characters talk with modern slang, ditching formalities and keeping with the tone the soundtrack sets. All this combined creates a historical anime that feels surprisingly contemporary, despite the obvious.
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Over the course of the show's 26 episodes, we follow a main trio of characters as they journey to find a mysterious samurai who smells of sunflowers. The trip is long, and each episode usually features the gang stopping somewhere and getting involved in a stranger's problems, usually learning some moral or getting a lead on their quest afterwards. Its not often for series as mature as these to be episodic, given how seriously they take their plots, but here, it works well.
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Every episode feels like another step along their journey, whether it be an eating contest in a big city, or hunting down a pick-pocket who stole their wallets. The series also does an excellent job at making the journey feel long, often referring back to the places the characters have been so far to keep track of it. You could actually track the trio's journey with a real life map if you wanted, since all the places they visit are historical, and probably still exist. Maybe someone out there has even tried their journey in real life...?
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An anime is only as interesting as its main characters, and this one certainly has an interesting cast. The series stars three characters, who together, always find a way to screw things up in the most hilarious ways. First, there's Fuu, a young woman who meets the other two characters when they burn her workplace down, and enlists them to help find the samurai who smells of sunflowers. The show pulls no punches with her, often having her be the butt of the joke just as much as her companions. She's loud, whiny, naïve, and often eats the most out of all of them. Yet, she's usually the one that stops fights, is the voice of reason in all this show's chaos, and shows kindness to everyone she meets, even someone who tried to kill her. Though the other characters might play her off as another nagging woman, Fuu's right more often than not, and is a valuable member of the team.
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Next is Jin, a ronin with a cool attitude. He's the level-headed one of the trio, often keeping to himself instead of jumping into arguments like the others. His cold exterior hides some pretty deep traumas, which were exciting to learn more about as the story developed. Characters like him are often stereotyped as unfeeling swordsmen, yet beneath all the sullen glances and reclusive body language, he grows to care about his companions more than any sense of pride.
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Lastly, there's Mugen, the wild vagrant. His reckless fighting style, love for battle, and unquenchable pride endeared him to me pretty quickly, making him an easy choice as favorite. Compared to Jin and Fuu, Mugen is an old-school tough guy, a shonen protagonist aged up a decade and thrown backwards a couple hundred years. Like Jin, he initially is quite guarded, but learns to express himself little by little, eventually revealing his tragic backstory. Though, to be fair, most of his self expression comes in the form of violence or threats, but I'm not here to judge him.
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Together, these three form a simple comedy trio, and get into trouble at every turn on their journey as they learn to tolerate each other. From start to finish, the trio struggle to get along peacefully, but that's what makes their dynamic worth watching. Mugen and Jin's mutual hatred, balanced out by Fuu's persistence, is what keeps them going. Depending on what episode it is, they take turns being the 'straight man', keeping the dynamic fresh and free of stale tropes.
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At the heart of this anime, though, is its theme of identity in a changing world. Throughout the series, the trio encounter various minority groups along their journey, and learn about their unique struggles. One episode has them protecting a secret Dutch immigrant, taking him on a tour of the city while they dodge immigration officers. When the man reveals that he fled his home country because of homophobia, it doesn't feel out of place or poorly handled. His queerness is just as much a part of his character arc as his foreign-ness, and though the show makes a few light-hearted jabs at his accent and obvious visual difference, it takes the rest of his identity rather seriously. This character, while only in the show for an episode, is just one of many minority characters in this series that is handled well, showing that a series doesn't have to be disrespectful to be historical.
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Another major theme in this series is death, and the acceptance of it. Being an action series, its pretty obvious that a lot of characters die, but what's interesting is how other characters deal with those deaths. Many side characters who the trio befriend on their journey are dealing with loss in some way, whether it be a husband, sibling, child, or something else. We witness how their grief drives them, such as with Fuu, or various other characters in the series. In a world such as the one in this series, death is commonplace, but a healthy acceptance of it is unfortunately less so. Each encounter with death in the series opens up new discussions about it, and often had me pondering what these characters might do next, or how I would deal with their situations.
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In the end, though, Samurai Champloo is a fascinating series that brings a unique blend of Eastern and Western styles to make a truly memorable viewing experience. It's hip-hop soundtrack pairs beautifully with flashy and quick-paced sword fighting, creating a simultaneous modern-historical vibe to it all. Its characters have an enjoyable dynamic that kept me coming back day after day for more, which inevitable led to disappointment upon discovering how short this series is. If we lived in a perfect world, this would have at least an extra season, but unfortunately, perfect this world ain't.
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But hey, at least I can spend my Pink Halloween (read: Valentine's Day) knowing that Fuu is valid, Mugen is gender, and Jin defintely got pegged in that one episode.
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clambuoyance · 1 year
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ngl I know nothing ab your DC blorbos except they're gay and cool or something Idk I just think they're neat... I'd ask what comics I could read ab them being super blorbo-y but Idk...
OKAY so there’s a lot of characters in dc but the ones I draw/talk about the most are these group of friends!! They feature in Young Justice 1998, Teen Titans 2003, and Young Justice 2019, as well as having their own comics and other appearances :)
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each comic run has different vibes but my personal favorite is yj1998 bc I like its wacky and zany vibes. It was not my first comic though, and it’s a little older so it might be hard to understand or read if it’s your first time reading comics like this, and again it is old soooo some stuff does Not age well such as certain jokes or depictions and it is of course not all perfect but overall I love it and think it has a lot of heart
I think i have a lot of fun with it bc it feels so…animated? And it has funny slapstick humor. Honestly I probably like it bc it makes me laugh the same way ninjago makes me laugh…a group of 4+ friends that have cute dynamics with each other and just Being Silly Together. I really don’t know how to explain it but between all three runs, I can see yj1998 in my head the most as a wacky animated show with exaggerated bouncy animation idk so that’s part of the fun for me. I think the moment I realized this was going to be a long term emotional investment was When I read the issue where they randomly end up on a planet and have to play baseball bc I am a SUCKERRR for baseball shenanigans
But yeah the group starts out with Bart, Tim, and Kon in JLA: A world without Grownups, and they just have a good trio dynamic 🙏 the banter between all three is so good 🤩and I liked seeing their friendship develop throughout yj1998 too! Especially for Tim, with his hesitancy at the beginning.They weren’t without conflict ofc but that adds to why I like them bc eventually they became besties for life. They are also quickly joined by others but the main one that stays w the group through all three runs is Cassie Sandsmark , aka Wonder Girl ii.
But yeah I guess some things I like are the way they actually Hang out? like they will do camping trips or go to the mall and games together etc etc, but there will be parts that feel more serious while never losing that humorous tint to it. For some examples, I love how Tim tries to be a leader in the beginning, but then one arc shows just how much Cassie is more fitting for it, and how they bond over Leader things like how hard it is to tell Bart what to do and then will share a really nice hug 🥺, and I love Cassie and Cissie’s relationship a LOT because they sometimes misunderstand each other but clearly care for each other (they aren’t canon but in my heart they are.) I also like Tim and kon’s build towards understanding and friendship for a similar reason, and cissie and Anita also have a nice development with each other, but yeah all the dynamics are just fun to think about tbh 🤷🏻‍♀️ I am pointing at them eagerly and going “wow! Friendship!!”
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And as for the guy I never shut up about…well that’s a whole thing I could ramble about but i became obsessed with him the moment he quoted Peter Pan while lamenting about how he was afraid his friends would leave him behind after several issues of him acting like Hot Shit and erm I’m predictable so it got to me 🙄 also he makes dumb jokes every second like he expects someone to laugh at them like he’s so dumb sometimes….anyways I do not want to ramble too much so I will get on with it
I was only familiar with his black tshirt look before, so when I first saw this goofy looking dumbass with a leather jacket and glasses and an earring I WAS LIKE “THATS SUPERBOY? THATS REAL?” and quickly became interested in the notion of a Superman associated hero wearing something like this bc I don’t think my brain ever considered the possibility before….also it is something I cannot explain some panels just activate my cuteness aggression 😔 I just think he’s really cute 🫶🫶🫶
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THE PUSHING DAISIES STEDDIE AU NOBODY ASKED FOR BUT I DID I GUESS 
(tw: two dead animals are mentioned, and animal cruelty is threatened but does not actually occur) 
Young Steve Harrington was 9 years, 24 weeks, 4 days, and 3 minutes exactly when he discovered just how much he wasn’t like the other children. 
Up until that exact moment, not a second later, Steve had been a normal boy. Normal boy from the totally normal, totally unremarkable little town of Hawkins, Indiana. And normal — normal was good. At least according to Steve’s father. Normal was important.
Normal was the watchword. 
Because normal boys did normal things – football, fist fights, and war games. Normal boys did not prefer the company of their mothers. Did not prefer watching old movies and dancing in the living room. Did not prefer spending hours in the kitchen baking pies. 
Normal boys spent their days rough-housing at Skull Rock. Playing king of the mountain and walk-the-plank. 
It was on that warm August afternoon, so many years ago, that Steve was faced with the shocking truth that he was in fact, as far from normal as normal could get. 
They’ve been out here for what feels like hours already, and Steve is tired and grumpy and too hot. Steve likes a walk through the woods as much as the next kid. Loves it actually —remembers when he was younger and he and his mother would take walks together on the trails behind their old house that wound through oak trees that felt like giants when he was so small, running through the tall, swaying grass that tickled his cheeks and made his mother laugh. Smile in that way she so rarely did anymore.
Tommy and Jason never wanted to stop and look at anything, and the only time Steve had dared to bring one of the well-loved notebooks he’d filled with drawings of whatever he’d found interesting at the time and one of his mother’s old field guides, they’d laughed at him, shoved him so hard that he’d dropped them in the mud.
At least he’d waited until he’d gotten home to cry about it. 
Normal boys, according to his father, did not cry. 
Steve had gotten distracted by an empty bird’s nest he’d found, fascinated by the little stones and bits of mud woven into it, the remnants of the eggshells left behind. Mercifully, the other boys were too wrapped up in whatever dumb game they were doing to make fun of him for examining it, let alone to bother waiting for him. 
He’s still brushing dust off the knees of his jeans, heading toward the clearing when he hears them.
Hey freak! What are you doing out here, freak? Look at the crybaby! What are you cryin’ about, crybaby? 
Steve can see the bright red of Jason’s baseball cap come into view. He and Tommy are circled around something — somebody — like a pack of ravenous wolves about to take down their prey. And yeah, normally (shamefully), Steve would just fade into the background, try and make himself invisible whenever they did stuff like this. Because the thought of participating just made that sick feeling bloom in Steve’s chest because before he wised up to the Way Things Were, he was used to being on the receiving end. 
He knows what it feels like. 
And looking back, perhaps that would have been the wisest course. The most sensible course. The normal course.
Because right there on his knees, arms curved protectively over something Steve can’t quite see, is Eddie Munson. 
Eddie Munson was pretty much the opposite of whatever normal was, at least around here. And unfortunately, that made him a prime target. The fact that he lived in the trailer park, wore ratty hand-me-downs that never quite fit him right, how his hair was too long and hung into his face. And despite the fact that most of their classmates seemed intent on making his life a living hell, Eddie never just took it. 
Steve found himself feeling jealous, which was absurd. He didn’t want to be a freak. Not like the Munson kid. 
But then he looks down and sees what the other boy is trying so desperately to protect — a rabbit. Now that he’s stepped a little closer, he can just barely see the soft gray of its fur peeking out from under Eddie’s elbow. 
And its distinct lack of breathing. Because the rabbit, Steve realizes, is dead. Now the stick he finally notices in Jason’s grip as he creeps even closer to the group makes sense — poking a dead rabbit as a fun activity actually made sense considering the blonde boy’s perfect storm of below average intelligence and above average aggression.
Like now when Steve can see that, yes, despite the fact that there were definitely tears in Eddie Munson’s freakishly big brown eyes, his mouth was curved into a feral smile. When Steve hazards a glance in his direction, it seems  to be at least somewhat effective if the unsteady look in Tommy’s eyes meant anything. 
Between the two of them, Jason was always meaner. Crueler in a way that made Steve’s teeth ache.
Normal boys probably didn’t notice things like other boys’ eyes. Maybe it’s just the fact that Steve’s never really looked at Eddie up close. Had never noticed how bright and wide those eyes of his really were, and despite the fact that they were obviously wet with tears, when Eddie’s  gaze finally fixes itself to him, it’s like he’s daring Steve to try something too. 
Steve doesn’t actually remember making the conscious decision to do something. It’s like he’s not even in control of his own body, the way his gut coils like a snake burning a hole through his belly when he shoves Jason Carver to the ground. 
“Leave him alone.” 
The funny thing was, although Steve may not particularly enjoy sports, he was good at them. Better than Jason, even, which Steve guesses probably had something to do with how pissy he always was around him. Steve was also bigger. Stronger. Faster.
Being fast was also probably why Tommy wasn’t able to get the drop on him either (although Eddie’s frantic pointing over his shoulder and the way he yells Steve! is certainly helpful ), wasn’t able to dodge the sucker-punch Steve lands right in his face.
Blood streams down Tommy’s face, his own hands flying to his likely-broken nose, and it’s so distracting, and honestly, alarming, it’s Jason who very nearly takes him down, having gotten to his feet without Steve’s notice. 
“Fuck you!”
That’s Eddie’s voice — when he turns to look, he sees him standing over Jason, fists balled at his side, who’d been clearly shoved to his feet again.
The other two boys likely hadn’t considered the fact that they’d be evenly matched. Tommy and Jason tended to prefer fights where they had the obvious advantage, and judging from how nervous they both looked suddenly.
“You really want to be a freak like Munson, Steve? Throw your lot in with him?”
“I’ll take my chances.” 
Tommy and Jason turn and run, tails between their legs, Steve watching them go, hands on his hips, with all the intensity of a guard dog ready to strike. It’s only when he can no longer see them, even through the gaps in the trees that he finally remembers Eddie is there.
“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” Eddie says, voice sounding slightly hollow as he stands over the tiny, limp body he’d been so desperate to protect. “Now they’re going to go after you.”
 “Yeah, well — I wasn’t going to let them…” and he’s not even sure how to explain what he doesn’t even understand himself yet, so he just shrugs and crouches down to look at the rabbit sprawled out over a pile of leaves. 
Steve has seen a dead body before. Only one. His grandfather’s — but he’d looked much the same as he always had in that coffin, same bespoke suit, same glasses. Eyes shut like he was taking one of his La-Z-Boy naps while Steve watched the tv on the rug in front of him.
The rabbit looked much like that — asleep. “Did you find it like this?”
Eddie seems taken aback, and likely is. Steve might not be a bully like the other kids, but he didn’t do anything to stop it. Steve might only be 9, but even he knows that’s somehow worse. “Uh – yeah, I mean – it’s just a baby and when I saw what Jason was trying to do —”
“Yeah,” Steve agrees, though he’s not sure to what, because for whatever reason, he’s reaching out to brush a finger over the thing’s fuzzy ear, just barely grazes it, before normal is tossed right out the window. Hurled off the cliff and into the abyss. 
Because the second Steve touches the animal, he feels a spark kind of like when he runs across the carpet wearing socks and touches something, a static shock. 
The rabbit is up and off so quickly, bounding into the trees before Steve even knows what’s happened. And something – something had happened. His brain might be trying to convince him otherwise — it was just stunned, injured, asleep. 
Because dead things stayed dead, obviously. 
“Holy shit, did you just —” 
“I think it was just stunned,” Steve says, biting his lip and ruffling his hair. 
“It was dead. It wasn’t breathing. I saw it — what did you do?” 
“Nothing, man. I don’t now what you’re talk—”
Both of them jolt, their conversation interrupted by a thud just a few feet away. When they turn around and venture close enough to see what it is, what’s lying there on the grass as still and lifeless as that baby rabbit had been only minutes before.
Because there, spread out onto the grass, wings akimbo, was a large spotted owl.
Dead.
Eddie and he share exactly one long look before Steve turns tail and flees. Doesn’t stop running until he reaches his bike, left just by the treeline. When he gets home, he goes straight to his room and doesn’t come out for the rest of the night.
He doesn’t see Eddie Munson again.
Not for a long time.
The facts were these:
Steve is exactly 25 years, 4 weeks, 3 days, 21 hours, and 18 minutes old when he finally does.
Because Eddie Munson was 26 years, 50 weeks, 19 hours, and 4 minutes old when he died.
And that’s exactly how old he is when Steve Harrington brings him back to life. 
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alpha-window-9 · 2 months
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Okay, my voice designs are complete! I am about to ramble about them.
Some general comments before getting into each individual one; I'm terribly inexperienced at drawing creatures, so while I adore how some artists are making them different birds and I would've loved for them to have actual beaks, I care too much about quality to do that to myself. So I just gave them pointy noses. Don't question the ears. At first I was just going to make them all have different outfits that could be worn by any gender or shape of person, because anyone can play the game, but that got in the way of other ideas I had. So they all have different styles/proportions to make them stand out. At first they had different feather bits, but then I realized how much I liked the cannon Long Quiet's little head bits that look like cat ears, which are already super expressive. So I went with that.
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Going in rainbow order, first we have Voice of the Paranoid!
I'm pretty sure his was the first of the group I designed, or at least, he's gone through the least revisions. I went full bug-eyed panic obviously. The eyes also make squinting in suspicion very obvious. While I like the designs that include the vital organs he keeps running, he serves a more general role in other routes. The outfit was the hardest to figure out, but I landed on the baseball tee because it was a bit more distinct, not too childish, but still very casual. Some symbolism I realized later is that you get to the Nightmare route by making choices that are uncomfortably in the middle, and that's reflected by Paranoid's shirt and pant sleeves stopping in the middle of the arm, right in the joint.
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Voice of the Skeptic.
This one was the hardest for me. I don't know him too well, and he doesn't have a specific action or attitude to play into. I finally got an idea when I decided against using realistic proportions for a different voice, that Skeptic was perfect for realism, he's all about facts and reality. The glasses came pretty quick, and I decided on the beard because he needs something to stroke in contemplation. He almost had a pipe as well, but I decided against it. The outfit was difficult again, I looked up a lot of references to scholars and various sherlock interpretations, and finally decided on a dark academia style turtleneck and the long coat, which was everywhere in my searches. If you could see both of the little head thingies the other one would be sideways kind of like a quirk eyebrow.
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Voice of the Contrarian.
While I adore the jester parallels so many others have made, I wanted to focus on the immature side of him. So he's a little brat with a backwards baseball cap because he's rebellious. I wanted to make sure to incorporate the sympathetic side that shows up later in Stranger.
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Voice of the Opportunist.
He's honestly one of my favorite voices, and I think part of that is how he's good with people and social interaction, so I leaned into that side by going for a sleezy business man aesthetic. He also mentions that he likes to travel, so I gave him that excellent shirt. He's on the business casual side because you can't be serious all the time, you need to relate to the people. He doesn't know what the earpiece is for, it's just there.
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Voice of the Hero.
Everyone's favorite boy! My main goal with the body type was friend shaped. Cause he's your bud. Went with the classic Link tunic because it's so incredibly hero coded, and the half cape to keep it fresh and friendly. I liked that another design gave him pauldrons to convey an upside down triangle shape, which represents intelligence and change, which I thought fit him very well. But fighting isn't really his thing, so I went with only one, putting the design off balance in a way I really liked. The head thingies came like first try, he's definitely swoopy and dynamic.
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Voice of the Hunted.
This one sucked to design because as I said previously, I'm bad at animalistic designs and shapes. My first thought was an Australian Bear Grylls type survivalist with realistic proportions, but it wasn't quite working and I loved everyone else's feral creatures. So I tried. The hair thingies came to me at random, and I like that they look like deer antlers. By this point I had everyone else down and none of them had a top heavy face shape so I tried that for Hunted and I liked how it turned out. I learned in my failed creature designs that a wide neck was important, so I did that. I kept the shark tooth necklace for flare.
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Voice of the Cheated.
I got very tall vibes from him for some reason. Maybe because it helps contrast his squinty eyes. For his outfit I went with a "someone who went broke at the casino" vibe. It felt right for everything to be mismatched, uneven, and messy. He's also the only one I gave a tired line.
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Voice of the Stubborn.
Of course he had to be buff, also wide things are sturdy. The tank top was the best shirt to show off those muscles, and I feel like the basketball shorts were a necessity for this stereotype. Thick eyebrows because angry. His head thingies are tiny and adorable mostly because I found it a funny contrast. The blue was honestly a bit of an afterthought, I'd already given red to Paranoid, and the orangy colors felt too weird for him. I think the blue works though.
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Voice of the Broken.
He's small. I had to go for a hoodie because it's gloomy and also to give cult vibes. The face needed to be big in order for those watery eyes to be prominent, and I felt keeping it in shadow was the easiest way to keep it simple. I had a lot of crazy ideas about unmatched puzzle pieces and wobbly towers that I'm incapable of executing, but I needed some sort of literal expression, so there's that big scar. The little line on the top is supposed to evoke a puppet whose string has been cut. I imagine that the others drag him around by it if they get frustrated.
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Voice of the Cold.
It was a bit difficult to figure out his design until I realized that he's the type to do hard drugs if given the opportunity to. Then things clicked. And once I made the connection of black lipstick, everything came together. The head thingies are supposed to look like dreadlocks.
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Voice of the Smitten.
I struggled so hard with this. I can not draw handsome people, but I can't have Smitty looking like a dork. The swoopy head thingies were easy enough, but most of the rest didn't look right, or was literally just Roman from Sanders sides. But I got in a chin, and decided to go for the heart body shape and I think it turned out well in the end. I was even able to keep the shirt sleeves and bowtie that I had discarded earlier for being too dorky.
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web-spinning · 1 year
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HAPPY HALLOWEEN HOPE YOUR DOING ALRIGHT ! ANYWAYS HERES MY REQUEST:D
mercs with a child who seems really creepy at first but is actually really cool?
Like they really quiet,is usally in the dark, stares at something for a long time etc,? Vut there actually really cool and interesting
Hoe you have a good day and remeber to not overwork yourself👍🤭
Mercs with a child who seems creepy at first, but turns out to be nice.
Scout- at first he's like " get this thing away from me ", overall avoiding the kid and trying not to talk to them. But one day, during his baseball practice he threw the ball really far away. He wanted to go get it back, but the kid has already found it before him. They gave him back the ball, saying how cool his sport skills are- and ever since that, he has sworn to protect them at all cost.
Soldier- he doesn't think much, just finds it "very immature" when they don't reply to him when he tries to talk to them. But a few weeks after they get used to the base, they give him a drawing showing Solly and the kid. He patriotic heart softens immediately, he takes the kid and adopts it immediately.
Pyro- they don't like to presume anyone as weird. They like the kid, even if they're a bit odd to the others. Mostly because he knows how hard it is to be a little different himself. Always makes sure to protect the kiddo in case another merc has a problem with them.
Demoman- he's questioning the fact that the Administrator allows a child in the base in the first place. He tries not to engage to the kid, he doesn't want it to be raised through war. But then he kinda grows on them when they him things like "I love your eyepatch, Mr. Cyclop!,
Heavy- immediate bear dad response is to make sure the kid is feeling well all the time. He's scared their strange behaviour is associated with something that happened in the past, and he makes sure to keep them happy at all times,
Engineer- Dell thinks something must be up about the kid. He stays up nights trying to figure it out, and gets close to the child to figure it out. After noticing how much open they are when he plays with them, he gets an idea! And so, he builds them wooden toys, little robots who say their name and a little communication module they can use instead of talking,
Medic- he doesn't like this child, nothing will change it...or so he thought. But one day after a long battle when he got back to the lab and noticed the kid playing with his doves his heart melted. It turned out they really like talking about the doves too, and so, Medic found a new friend that liked to listen to him ramble about birds,
Sniper- he isn't exactly good with kids in the first place, and mostly thinks it's his apperance and personality that makes the kid so closed off before him. But then he realizes he was also quite a strange kid. So he asks the kid what they like and stuff, and realizes they might be really interesting. Fast forward time and he takes them on trips in his vans because he likes them so much,
Spy- he's just a big salty butt towards the kid at first. But then they start following his around, saying just how cool they think he is, and how it's awesome that he can disguise as just anybody. And eventually, he grows towards them too. He stops smoking and invites them to his room to teach them how to play chess.
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mxystarry · 7 months
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Another Garmathought because I'm still in my Garmadon brainrot era.
I was looking up at that Christofern episode again and I noticed something.
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(NO 1 DAD. Yes he had a dad mug T^T)
But actually I want to draw attention to baseball drawings on it.
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(A short part from the comic "Night of Nindroids )
Could be a possible comic reference? Then if we count it as canon, they played baseball for their father and son day. (I'm so mad at myself for not realizing it before.)
To the point, I mostly think of Oni/Resurrected Garmadon had forgotten some of his memories. And I think by paying attention to this, in the duration he has lived in Vinny's apartment, he has started to remember the times he spent with Lloyd and he tried to not forget them again with symbolising them on some objects like mugs.
Or it's just a simple mug which is gifted to Garmadon for make him be aware of his father role.
It's just a review from me after all :)
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chiimeramanticore · 1 month
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Part of The Band - Chapter 21: Copy
ive been a terrible slacker with uploading potb chapters here lol. instead of going back and uploading every chapter that i've missed here (a LOT of them) im just gonna keep going from where we're at. i suggest reading on AO3 to get the full experience!
The gang takes a promotional day for the band. Mitzi draws a flyer design. The gang meets a new face.
Read it on AO3!
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Dook sits on the couch of the band room next to Mitzi, who's been drawing a flyer idea for a while now. They're taking a "promotional" day today at practice. Everyone older than Mitzi has been tasked with piles of newspapers, scouring the wanted ads for anyone in need of a band. Billy Bob had suggested they start with lower stakes– even the best bands have to start playing in someone's garage.
"Man, maybe we've got this all wrong," Beach Bear says. "I've seen more ads for clowns for kids' birthday parties than I have for anyone who actually needs a band." He scoffs, adjusting his position in the chair to be even more lopsided than before.
"What, you wanna get into kid's entertainment?" Fatz raises an eyebrow at him.
"No," Beach Bear smirks, "I think we should all become clowns."
Looney Bird laughs. "You'd be a terrible clown, Beach Bear," he chimes in.
"Yeah, you would know, wouldn't ya?" Beach Bear tells him. "You already look like a clown."
"Dook has the nose already," Mitzi adds.
Dook gasps, a hand moving to cover his nose. "It's not that big," he insists. "And it ain't red!"
"Keep blushing like that and it will be soon," Beach Bear teases. Dook doesn't respond, but does in fact grow redder upon hearing it.
"Look," Mitzi says, putting down the colored pencil she was using. She proudly lifts up the paper to show everyone her design. It's a flyer advertising the Rock-afire Explosion– the background is a bright explosion pattern, with the text in vibrant purple and red letters.
"Woah," Dook murmurs.
"Nice job, Mitzi!" Beach Bear exclaims, taking the flyer from her to look at it closer. "We can totally put these up around town."
"We've gotta make copies, then," Billy Bob says.
"Sounds like a trip to the store," Fatz replies.
"Oh! I wanna ride in the front!" Mitzi stands excitedly, already making her way to the door.
·–—–·
The office supply store is not that large, and never very crowded. The store is lined with racks of paper, stationary, scissors, and so on. Near the back wall, a single employee sits bored by the register. Sitting in the center of the store, the coveted copier machine– by their luck, the one thing in the store already occupied.
The group mostly files in behind the cat at the machine, doing their best not to crowd him. Looney Bird and Mitzi wander off to check out the other fixtures of the store. The employee at the register has a radio set up, the sound of the Bee Gees quietly pouring out into the rest of the store. Besides that and the sound of the copy machine, it's dead quiet in the store.
Dook stares at the promotional posters on the wall. This store has a mascot, a tiger holding a cardboard box, promoting that you can send mail from the store. Dook looks back over to the cashier, a small orange cat. Kind of a difference. He looks back at the cat using the copier machine. He's lanky, taller than Dook by a bit but definitely shorter than Beach Bear. He's mostly black, with white fur accenting his ears and hands. He's wearing a T-shirt and jeans, a baseball cap sat backward on his head. The cap has a word embroidered on it: "Swingers."
Dook cocks his head, trying to get a better look at what he's making so many copies of. It's brightly colored, but he can't make out the text. Without thinking, he takes a step forward, trying to get a better look. The cat's ear twitches, and he glances over his shoulder to address the group.
"Oh–! Sorry, I didn't realize how long this'd take." He glances back at the machine. "I shouldn't be too much longer."
"What're you making?" Dook asks.
"Oh, just some flyers for work," the cat replies. He pulls one from the machine and hands it to Dook.
"Showbiz Pizza Place?" Beach Bear reads from over his shoulder. "Never heard of it."
"That's because it's new," the cat says. "Not opened yet. My boss is in the restaurant business, and he's trying to start a franchise sort of situation."
"Interesting boss," Dook murmurs, still staring at the flyer.
"What are you guys making?" The cat continues. "If you don't mind."
"Flyers, too," Beach Bear says, nudging Fatz. Fatz hands the cat Mitzi's flyer.
He looks it over. "You're a band?"
"It's not clear from the flyer?" Billy Bob asks.
"It's just hard to tell past..." He taps the drawing of an explosion on the page. "Are you any good?"
"It's not clear from the flyer?" Beach Bear says, gesturing toward the same explosion.
The cat laughs. "We're looking for a band to perform at Showbiz," he explains. "You should sign up. Keep the flyer."
The copier finally finishes, and the cat picks up the stack of papers it's produced. "I've gotta run," he says, already moving for the door, "but keep us in mind! You could be just what the boss is looking for!"
The front door swings shut, and he's gone.
Dook looks down at the flyer once more, an address listed at the bottom. "Maybe we will."
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