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1-800-local-slut · 9 months

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Dean and Sam x Black Goth Reader

I was rewatching Interview with a Vampire. This was born then I passed out and finished writing it this morning. I hope you enjoy!

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Dean and Sam with a gothic reader who lives in the bunker, isn’t a hunter and does research. She's into dark literature, loves the night, cats, poison, flowers and all that stuff. She's also super smart. She loves death, and dead people and works at a super old and cool bookstore.

Warnings: implied smut, stabbings, nothing else really

Dean

Dean would have mixed feelings on this but ultimately love this

Thought you were a witch for a solid few seconds

Can you blame him? The cross necklace, solid black dress that hugged your curves and stopped at your thighs, the matching corset tied around your waist, the spider web stockings that he admired through the slit on your dress, the butterfly sleeves around your arms, the pentacle on your black chunky heels. Totally witchy.

Not to mention how beautiful you were, he didn’t think the looks were natural

He was enamored by your faux locs

You guys met when he was on a case thankfully in Kansas, and had to go to the bookstore you work

Thought you were sexy in a dark way

Was trying to figure out if you were punk or emo for a few seconds

You had to go ask him if you could help him with something

You noticed him staring and tried to get your coworker to take him and she magically had to call her babysitter so you had to go talk to him

“Welcome to the Afterlife Athenaeum, how can I help you today?”

His ears melted when he heard your voice

You remind him of Morticia Addams

Had a childhood crush on Morticia Addams

He reminded you of a gas station attendant

He’d ask for something completely unrelated so he can he can keep hearing you talk

Listened to you talk to him about Gothic Architecture for five minutes, not having a clue what you were going on about

Got a book about funeral rites.

You told him that was a personal favorite and also threw in a book on embalming

Went back to the bunker with the books he needed and from there kept going back to the shop

Asks stupid questions to hear you talk

You two begun an unlikely friendship

He would make loud noises and disturb you unintentionally, you would glare at him with a reminder to stay quiet in the shop

Would follow you around watering the plants in the store while you closed

Swapping earbuds, and Dean being jumpscared by Shout At The Devil

He was honestly shocked, you just seem so serene and calm and reserved all the time and he was ready to hear a loud violin

When you found out he was a hunter, he was worried you’d run and call the police after seeing him stab a ‘man’ in the neck but then you saw it literally fizzle and pop

And he was right, you ran.

Straight into his arms

You convinced him to let you take him to get dinner and tell you all about it

You listened with wide eyes about everything, understood why he would often ask for books on symbolism of different things, mythological creatures, but when you asked if he’s been a hunter basically all his life how come he didn’t have any books of his own.

Did not have an answer for that

He developed a crush on you after you didn’t run away

Scared to make moves

But not too scared, cuz it’s Dean

Makes corny jokes

“Are you a grave? Cuz I wanna be buried in you.”

“Dean, stop.” but you’re trying not to laugh because it’s dumb

“Are you a witch? Cuz I’m under your spell.”

“Dean.” your lips are pursed to restrain yourself

“How about for our first date we go to the cemetery and have a grave time? I’m just dying to meet you there.”

You laughed and Dean proudly smiled, wandered out the door of the cafe you guys usually meet with for some reason and didn’t come back

Eventually, you developed a crush on him as well

Confesses to you on a moonlit walk

From there you two start dating

You guys went as Johnny and Mavis for Halloween one year

He likes when you kiss him and it leaves a black stain

Likes to help you pick out clothes and always jokes about burying you in them

Compares you to the goth kids from South Park

Watching Scooby Doo together

Convinced you to be Velma for Halloween, and when he saw you in the costume his brain rewired seeing you in it

You didn't even get to take the costume off yourself, he did it for you

Doesn’t really like reading with you but he likes watching you read and get super focused on whatever piece of literature it is

Loves watching horror movies with you

Matching jewelry

He wears a different version of your cross necklace

Late night drives (doesn’t like you going outside at night but he can’t stop you)

Gets along with your cat but they fight for your attention like crazy

Likes to water the plants around your apartment

Doesn’t want to ask you for help on a hunt, would like to keep you far away from it but your persistence wears him down

He wants you to leave lipstick stains on his abs and dick (and you do)

Loves picking out your lipstick

Let’s you put eyeliner on him

Got you little bat clips to put in your afro and likes to see you use them

Loves when you put hair products into different containers and label them and likes to help (it’s just fun)

He likes to run around in your boots sometimes even though his feet don’t fully fit

Got jumpscared when he saw you in the bunker one morning and called you a Victorian ghost child

When you asked to start a garden he didn’t see the point but you eventually got what you wanted

You torture him in the best way

Gets you black roses instead of red ones

He loves your dresses and fishnets, he honestly falls apart over them

Loves seeing you get along with Sam, calls you both nerds

Cooks for the two of you

One night you told him you thought a pet bat would be cool and he went stiff and made you swear up and down to never mention it again

Likes seeing your stuff around his room, and doing laundry and finding your black bras and clothes

Loves how understanding you are about his job and the supernatural

Your really helpful sometimes

Like he’ll tell you about something completely random and you’ll give him a full story explaining the origins of it in a morgue in Peru or something

Makes fun of you and says you shop at Hot Topic

He likes to put things up high for you so you have to either climb something and he can see your ass move or you have to ask him for help

All in all Dean would love his goth gf and all her oddities

Sam

Sam wouldn’t really care

He too thought you were a witch when he first saw you

He was on an early morning run, and ran into a coffee shop to get a water

Saw you sitting there, dressed in all black in a corset dress with a choker around your neck and a tiny pentagram hanging from it and rose fishnet stockings

He loved your jewelry immediately, the silver accessories and rings that adorned your tiny fingers

He also loved your dark lipstick

You had your ear plugs plugged in, reading a book in Latin with your curly hair shining in the lights of the Sun through the window and a woman knowing Latin made his dick hard

Minding your own black business really

Sam went on about his day, went back to the bunker, showered up and talked to Dean about a case in New Mexico

Had to find some more information, reading the news articles, he saw there were flowers left at the scene of the crime

But he couldn’t find this one flower in any of his books so he went to a bookstore he had seen before in town, called Afterlife Athenaeum. He went at night due to a day full of scouring the internet and books to come up empty

And guess who he spotted? You

Now he didn’t pay much attention to you at first, in fact he didn’t recognize you at first because now you were in a different yet alluring outfit

You were just stocking books, but you were too short too reach up and get something on the top shelf and your cunt of a manager put the stool somewhere you couldn’t find

You were jumping and Sam thought you looked like a jumping spider and your boots made a loud noise through the empty bookstore when your shoes hit the ground

Looking around you saw a big ass white man and decided to try your luck

“Excuse me? I’m sorry to bother you but could you grab that book for me?”

Tall, sexy, and helpful, you were ready to jump into his arms and escape with him.

He gave you a charming smile and handed you the book which just so happened to be a book on the language of flowers. He looked it over with a pleased hum. “Oh I actually need this.” He stole a glance at your name tag and you smiled in delight. Despite dressing like you just left a funeral you were seemingly cheerful. “Perfect! It’s our last one too, I’ll ring you up. Is there anything else you need?” You asked, taking the book from his large hands. “No thank you.”

When you rang him up his eyes stuck to your silver cross necklace that he had a hunch was just for fashion

You noticed him staring, and you decide to make moves

(I have a feeling Sam enjoys being seduced, follow me on this)

“New in town?” he automatically falls in love with your voice. You ask while looking down at the book, and checking the catalog for the title and the price. “No, just giving this place a try.” Sam kept stealing glances at you. You were just doing your regular work and he was entranced. “Well I hope to see you again, we don’t get a lot of handsome customers” you said slyly, while handing him the bag with two fancy capital A’s on it.

And there’s a look between you too, and he left knowing he’d be coming back definitely

Came back two weeks later and looked for you. He asked a question on poisons and watched your eyes literally light up. He then listens to your info dump on plants and buys three of your recommendations

Eventually you two become friends, sharing music, CD’s, story recommendations and more

You find out he’s a hunter when you’re visiting a relatives grave one night and you watch him kill a shapeshifter

Your jaw dropped, immediately began to quietly pack up and escape before you caught a stray. He saw you out of the corner of his eye and grabbed you while you ran, and the way he grabbed you made you get a lil excited. He explains everything to you, given it was that or you call the police . After he explained that he wasn’t a murderer, and explained the supernatural was real you exploded and listened to literally everything with such investment

Just adorable

After that, you two got a bit closer (nothing too crazy). He kept you a bit of a secret for a while

Needed help decoding a message left at a crime scene and went to your apartment. You made him some tea, he looked around your cozy apartment and learned you had a cat who immediately loved him

You sat down on the recliner, he took the couch right in front of your coffee table and you sat down on the arm of the couch to show him something. His eyes glued onto your thighs in your silk black shorts and matching top. He was imagining taking your matching robe off the moment he came inside

You noticed because you were staring at his dick through his pants since he came inside and he was hard like immediately and you decide to take your shot

“Sam?” You began while shutting your book and placing your elbow on the back of the couch. Your eyes were basically burning through him. “Yeah?” He was trying to focus on his laptop but couldn’t. “If you were a flower, you’d be an orchid.” You were now fidgeting with one of your black nails. He immediately got the hint, it was in the book you showed him “Really?” He flirted back with his eyes. “Oh yes, the orchid is a very alluring plant.” You continued and then moved your brown eyes to his.

The rest was history from there

After that night he was deeper under your spell

Likes to watch Phantom of the Opera with you

Dirty talks in Latin

You guys talk shit about people in Latin

“Asinus officium spectat terribilis.” (Her ass job looks terrible)

“Quod est medium infantem.” (That's mean baby)

He likes to fidget with your nails

He hates Halloween but you love it much to his dismay

Agreed to go as Morticia and Gomez one year and almost lost his mind seeing you in the dress

You didn’t make it out the house

He likes seeing you not dressed as fancy but casually in one of his big ass t-shirts and just walking around

First night you stayed at the bunker he was amazed by how your energy just changed the entire room

Likes hearing you speak different languages

He tells you all the time you remind him of the moon

Loves loves loves seeing you dressed casually to the point where it’s an obsession

But he loves your fancy clothes as much as your casual t-shirts and tank tops you wear on laundry days

He likes when your in the library of the bunker trying to get a book down and you can’t reach it

He loves your plants

He enjoys seeing the different dark shades of purples, blacks and more

But he likes how you love all of the plants even the ones that are a bright red or yellow

He loves your perfumes

Accompanies you everywhere at night, and loves the way the moonlight reflects off your brown skin

He loves when you put lip gloss on over your lipstick and kiss him

He buys your bonnets and anything else in a color he sees you commonly wear

A black mirror, a black head scarf, a black bandanna, silver charms for your braids when you get your hair done, black lip liner

Told you about Jess, and you listened with such kindness and respect his heart swelled

You told him about your beliefs that the dead should be treated with respect

still listens to your info dumps (I’m telling you he will never get sick of your info dumps, you could be explaining the history of toast to him and he’d still be happy)

He likes that when you bruise, it’s a purplish red color so when he bites you or holds your hips too tight he takes deep satisfaction in knowing the next day there’ll be purple and dark hand marks around your hips.

Doesn’t want you hunting but knows you’re incredibly curious

Came to a conclusion that if he kept you in the loop about what he was hunting it would work out best for him, plus you’d be a great help

He’s partially convinced you know everything relating to death, human sacrifices, embalming methods, which works great for him

He spends a lot of time with Dean looking at dead people and symbols he barely understands and if he can just send you a picture and in two minutes you can tell him exactly what it is the sooner he can kill it and go home

Dean calls you guys Dr. Frankenstien and his bride (Frankenstein was the DOCTOR not the monster I refuse to have incorrect terminology here)

You and Dean have an unlikely friendship, and you ended up learning Dean is a big fan of gothic romance

You guys watch horror movies together, and argue over which Purge movie was better (the answer is Election Year)

Sam just thinks you're cool, overall doesn’t really think too much about your fashion or interest. He just likes you and the fact that your sexy and smart is a huge bonus

Let me know what you guys think! I loved writing this and I loved rewatching interview with a vampire. Gothic stuff will always have a special place in my little black heart, and I like putting little nods to it in a lot of my writing. Anyways, that's all! Please enjoy <333

#dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural dean #supernatural #supernatural x reader #sam and dean #black reader #i loved writing this #take this as you will #pls enjoy #they make my heart happy #like it's not even funny #dean x reader #sam x reader #implied smut

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specialbluehens · 8 months

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mother hen

based on this post i made about shane being an older sibling figure to the younger bachelors & bachelorettes. he's the disgruntled mom friend.

1. sam

Shane slumps into a chair and takes off that dreadful cap as he begins his legally designated 15 minute break at work. He knows if it weren't for the literal law that he wouldn't be given a break at all, especially with Morris stressing about customers that never show up. It's the same two or three people from town every day. Morris isn't going to get that through his thick skull, though. Shane sighs as rubs his eyes roughly with his palms, trying to fend off his exhaustion and mild hangover.

He's getting better. He hasn't cut himself off completely, but he's getting better. He can remember his nights now instead of select moments and then blurry images and distant noises. Shane sighs. He has a therapy appointment in a couple of days. He isn't enjoying therapy but it is starting to give him relief in a way he's never felt before. It's better. It's better, he reassures himself, despite the pressure in his chest yelling at him that he's a failure for not going cold turkey.

Shane slouches further down in the chair and tips his head so it rests on the back of the chair. These cushioned armchairs, as cheap and small and obnoxiously colored blue as they are, are the best things JojaMart has ever gotten. He shuts his eyes and listens to the sound of absolutely nothing in the break room. He's saved from the terrible repetitive pop music playlist on the floor. It's just him and the whirring of a nearby fan.

Until the door swings open and Sam comes barging in with a giddy smile and something in his hands. He's going to come over and try and show him isn't he?

"Shane!"

Shane groans and covers his face with his cap.

"C'mon! I gotta show you something!"

"No." Shane grumbles from under his cap. "Go away."

"Please?" Sam asks nicely, "I promise you will like it."

Shane grabs his cap and swings it down onto his lap. "What is it?"

Sam holds out a flier and beams. Shane sighs and snatches the paper and takes a look at it. It's an advertisement for a show in Zuzu City.

"Who's 'Goblin Destroyer?'" Shane asks.

"My band!" Sam says excitedly, hopping from foot to foot. "We got a gig! It's a small show but it's still in Zuzu City!"

Shane blinks and nods. "Alright, cool." He looks up at Sam, who's got the biggest hopeful puppy dog eyes he's ever seen. Sam is giving Jas a run for her money. "Uh… good job." He tries to say it and mean it. It's exactly what Sam is looking for, because Sam somehow grins even wider and giddily jumps up and down.

"You totally gotta come!"

Shane purses his lips together. Go to their concert? He can't remember the last time he'd been to a concert, especially given how tickets usually cost more money than he has. Except, Sam and his band can't be expensive. It's their first show and probably at a small concert venue or in a club in Zuzu City, which most of the time is free. He has no reason to not go other than he doesn't know if he wants (or can handle) being in a potential crowd.

But Sam is waiting patiently and quietly. This means a lot to him.

Shane sighs, "Yeah, I can go. I just need the date and time."

"Really?!" Sam nearly shouts. "And everything is on the flier, plus everybody from here who's coming will be on the bus together. Pam agreed to it," He explains.

"Ah," Shane says, reading the flier again and seeing yes, all of the information is there. "Erm, your mom going?"

"Her and Vince are going, yea," Sam sounds less excited but he's still happy. "I'm not sure Mom will like the music too much, she doesn't like it when we practice in the house, but I think my dad would like it."

"Mmm," Shane hums.

"My dad isn't going to be home until next year," Sam says, his demeanor shifting into what Shane can only describe as sullen. "It's been weird, getting ready for it even though it's a whole two seasons away."

Shane isn't sure what to say to that. He never had much of a family growing up, and what little he remembers of his father are more images than true moving memories. Flashes.

"He's been gone since Vince was a toddler," Sam says. "We had just moved to the valley when it happened." Shane knows all of this already, this isn't the first time Sam has told him about it. Sam tends to repeat it a lot.

"I mean, I'm an adult now, y'know?"

"You're an adult?" Shane teases dryly. He smirks as Sam leans over and gives him a light slap on the knee.

"I'm being serious, dude," Sam says, "I just… I'm doing great things and he's not even here. I've been told he didn't have a choice but then there's so many people whose dads are here and weren't shipped off to the war. Did he have no choice?"

"Sam there wasn't a draft, and there hopefully won't be one anytime soon. So no, your father wasn't forced," Shane states matter-of-factly. He didn't plan on continuing further, but Sam's look of defeat…

"But, by 'no choice', probably meant in looking for a job. People who aren't doing well sometimes feel like the military's all they can do and be guaranteed some benefits at the end of it. Why did y'all move to Pelican Town?" Shane asks.

"It was too expensive in Zuzu," Sam says.

"Do you know why I moved to Pelican Town? Why did I move in with my aunt?"

"Because it was too expensive in Zuzu City."

"Right, and that was just me and Jas," Shane says, "Two of us. Y'all are a family of four. I can't imagine how hard it was."

"... Yeah…" Sam murmurs.

"Look, your old man was doing what was best at the time. He's gonna be different when he comes back."

"Yeah, in his letter he said he was different. I found it in my mom's room."

"Don't go snooping in your mom's room," Shane scolds. He clears his throat to switch off the "talking to Jas aka a child" mindset. "All I'm saying is, maybe this," Shane passes back the flier. "This'll be something he can enjoy when he gets back."

"I hope so," Sam says. "I don't know what I'd do if he doesn't like it."

"He'll like it," Shane says, "And even if he doesn't, he'll still be proud. He's your dad. He'd be crazy if he wasn't proud of you."

"You think so? Sometimes I don't even know if my mom is proud of me."

"She's going to be proud of you when she sees you on that stage. I know I'd be."

"... You would?"

"Mhm."

Sam looks at the flier and his face scrunches, deep in thought. Shane checks the clock and sees he's a couple minutes past his break. He sighs and he stands up, stretching his arms up to try, popping his back. Before he can leave, Sam is wrapping his arms tightly around Shane and squeezing.

"Sam?!"

"Thank you," Sam breathes.

Shane awkwardly pats Sam's back. "Er… you're welcome?"

Sam lets go and hurries off out of the breakroom. He probably wasn't even supposed to be back here, let alone for an entire 15 minute break. Shane sighs as he drags his feet to the door.

"That was weird," He murmurs to himself. He ignores the lightness in his chest. It was weird.

As long as the kid's happy though, right?

Shane questions if it was worth it as Morris yells at him for being late coming back from his break. He sees Sam behind Morris, mopping as usual as if he hadn't gone to the breakroom and is the reason Shane is late. Shane sighs again.

He'll take the blame for it this time.

This time, he tells himself, despite it not being the first time.

It probably won't be the last.

#sdv #sdv shane #sdv sam #my writing #sdv fanfic #stardew valley #ramblings #mother hen #hee hee finally finished this #posting here instead of ao3 (for now) bc i don't wanna stare at another #incomplete fic....#once i have a few of these written i'll transfer them to ao3

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yakuzacanons · 4 months

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Hope you’re well and that I’m not bothering you, is it okay if I request a sort of headcanony thing about Zhao where his S/O is Majima’s (adoptive?) daughter? Like if Majima was kinda overprotective, how’d he react when he finds out? Idk if this is weird or not thank you <3

SKSKSK this is so funny to me??? I've never done anything like this before so hopefully it's up to snuff n all that. Headcanons below. Last one for today, big sick rn.

First of all, Zhao just didn't know. Had he known, he would've been like "Listen, I'm pretty sure I got into a fistfight with your dad". In his defense, she wouldn't be surprised hearing that. Majima kind of gets into fights with LOTS of people.

Zhao isn't exactly scared of Majima but once he finds out his girlfriend's dad is Majima, he's like "...Okay, what now?" I mean, of course he knows he'll meet the guy eventually but what the heck are they going to say to each other?

On the flip side, Majima always knew his daughter would at some point grow up and probably eventually find a partner and even get married one day. He doesn't have a fatherly instinct in the same way that Kiryu does with Haruka but he does have that same protectiveness.

Majima would never demand that his daughter do or not do something, but he's seen her get heartbroken a couple of times before and it was only at the behest of his daughter that those guys weren't walking around missing an eye themselves right now. Of course, his daughter hasn't told Zhao about that yet...

In the end, they decide to invite Majima over for dinner at Zhao's place. They figured since Zhao's such a great cook and Majima is easily pliable with food, it's the best scenario. Plus, it's a private setting so they don't have to worry about being in public with Majima because... well, he's HIM.

Majima jokingly complains the whole way there, saying things like "Whaddya mean this guy's gonna cook dinner? If he's tryna impress me, it ain't gonna work!" Secretly, he's thinking it must be pretty serious if he's about to meet his daughter's boyfriend at the guy's house. And he's going to cook food too? He must be serious about his daughter then too...

Zhao doesn't come out to greet them as he's busy holding a giant ass wok in the kitchen. From the smell, Majima seems temporarily pleased but he's a little snippy about the fact Zhao didn't even come out to say hi. His daughter also goes to the kitchen to help Zhao plate the food. Meanwhile, Majima sits down grumbling to himself about manners and how the dinner better be damn good.

Once Zhao finally steps out of the kitchen and the two make eye contact, Majima literally just lets out a loud "ACK" and recognizes him immediately. Zhao just kind of waves hello casually. Majima just kind of sits there shocked for a little bit while his daughter fills up a plate for him and Zhao pours them all some tea.

Majima finally snaps out of it and starts making all kinds of noise about how come no one told him when his daughter said she was dating a guy named Zhao that it just so happened to be the same Zhao that he got into a fight with before the Omi dissolved. His daughter hands him his plate and in his noisy panic, he quickly snatches the plate out of her hands and haphazardly shovels some food into his mouth, still talking and yammering away.

He instantly realizes it was a mistake to doubt Zhao's cooking because the food immediately makes him shut up. His frenzy is placated with each bite and eventually he just kind of looks at Zhao and nods. In hindsight, despite having gotten into a fight with Zhao at one point, the guy always seemed pretty chill. Plus, he did help with dissolving the Omi... also, his clothes are kind of cool?

All in all, the night ends up going pretty well. Majima enjoys the food but to his surprise, and kind of to his daughter's surprise too, he enjoys the conversations with Zhao more. Seeing how genuinely happy his daughter was all the proof he needed though: this guy might be the real deal. Provided he doesn't get into a fist fight with him ever again.

#majima megaphone moment #yakuza #yakuza headcanons #yakuza imagines #ryu ga gotoku #ryu ga gotoku headcanons #ryu ga gotoku imagines #goro majima #majima goro #zhao tianyou #tianyou zhao

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woso-fan13 · 1 year

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14. ‘I Might Be A Teeny Tiny Bit Sick, But It’s Fine.’

You’re currently having an extreme battle of wills with Mal. The two of you stand on opposite sides of your hotel room, staring at each other. Nobody dares to look away first.

Finally, Mal sighs and breaks eye contact.

“Y/N/N, this is ridiculous. You’re not going to practice.”

“Mal, I told you that I am perfectly fine. There’s no reason for me not to go to practice.”

“You were wheezing in your sleep, is that not enough of a reason? I was literally up half of the night listening to you so you didn’t stop breathing.”

“You’re just making that up,” you argue back, “you must be. I’m standing here, totally fine.”

Your body betrays you at this moment though. Before Mal could respond to your argument, you surrender to a coughing fit. Your chest heaves as your body tries to rid itself of a lung, your face turning red from effort. Mal takes pity on you, grabbing a cool water bottle from the fridge, cracking it open before she gently hands it to you. You gratefully take it, trying to sip it in between coughs. Once you manage to calm your lungs, you allow yourself a few full mouthfuls of water to soothe your throat.

“Still think you’re totally fine?” Mal asks, an eyebrow raised.

You simply glare back at her.

“Buddy, you don’t have to be fine,” she tries to reassure you, “it’s okay to be sick. Why don’t you just stay at the hotel and get some rest? I’ll tell the coaches that you’ll be missing practice.”

“I might be a teeny tiny bit sick, but it’s fine. I caught some bug going around the team last week. Everyone managed to get over it in a few days, I just can’t kick this cough.”

Mal makes a sympathetic noise, “I’m sorry. But you know that your lungs aren’t quite right, sometimes they need a little extra time to recover. Give them a chance to fix themselves.”

“I know, I just want it to be over with. I hate practicing like this, especially at camp.”

“You can skip today, nobody would think less of you. I’m sure they’ve been able to hear your coughing through the walls, I doubt anyone would be surprised if you didn’t feel up to practice.”

“You know I’m going to go, I’m not missing this.”

Mal laughs, “I know. I figured it was worth a shot to convince you to sit out. I’ll need you to promise the older girls that I tried to make you stay back. Kay?”

“Yes ma’am, that’s a deal.”

“Make sure you pack your inhaler and actually use it. And tell me if your chest gets tight. And show some restraint, please.”

You nod, quickly grabbing your bag and heading towards the door. You were ready to practice and you didn’t want to be late. You’re about to reach for the knob when a voice stops you.

“Y/N?” Mal asks.

You turn around, a questioning look on your face.

“Forget something? Something important.”

You quickly dig through your bag, realizing what you’re missing. You look up just in time to see Mal grabbing your inhaler off of the nightstand and wiggling it at you.

“Sorry Mal,” you apologize, “I thought it was in my bag already. I promise.”

She tosses it to you and you quickly shove it into the correct pocket of your bag.

“That’s probably my fault actually. Your breathing really freaked me out last night, I put your inhaler next to you just in case you needed to use it.”

You smile, genuinely touched by how kind your teammates are. “Thanks Mal!”

She picks up her own bag, meeting you by the door. Throwing an arm around your shoulder, she opens the door and the two of you begin heading to the elevator.

“You know, it’s so hard being a single mother, especially a single mother to a medically complex kid. You’ll never understand how much I do for you,” she teases you, smiling slightly when you laugh.

Laughing was good. Laughing meant that, not only were you in a good mood, but that you had enough air in your lungs to show the good mood.

“Mal, you’re like 6 years older than me on a good day, you’re definitely not my mother. Also, you're almost married, so not single either. It’s sounding to me like you’ve got a pretty easy life, maybe I should spice it up.”

You wiggle your eyebrows at the last sentence. Or, more accurately, you attempted to wiggle your eyebrows and failed miserably. Mal bursts into laughter at your attempt and you feign a look of shock at her reaction.

“Come on. We need to go show everyone how you do that before practice.”

With that, she bypasses the extremely slow elevator and begins pulling you down the stairs.

#uswnt fanfic #uswnt imagines #uswnt players #uswnt woso #uswnt x reader #woso imagine #uswnt imagine #woso imagines #reader insert #woso #woso soccer #womens soccer #uswnt reader #woso x reader

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lieblingspulli · 1 year

Text

Memories in my Palm: SKZ

W.c: 3k

Bang Chan x Reader

Summary: bang chan rot. I am sad and happy and everything in between because of this.

A/n: Highly inspired by The Flower Garden (sorry Im so obsessed with Howl’s moving castle, the music is just so vividly moving I can’t resist writing when I listen to these songs 😣) and the whole ep Strawberries by Vietra. Highly recommend listening to this album on repeat while reading it! Enjoy!

Masterlist!

SKZ Masterlist

You remember the exact moment you encountered Chan for the first time. He was just a boy, running to achieve a dream that he didn’t even know the certainty of. He was at the beginning of his trainee days. You were at the beginning of your life post-high school. The both of you were seeking perfection from an imperfect experience. When you reflect back on your meeting, sometimes you feel as if it were fate. That life brought you to this boy that would become something bigger than himself.

You remember that day clearly. The sun was shining and summer had just arrived. The heat was beating down on Seoul relentlessly. You picked the nearest park you could find and figured a park would fit better than your stuffy room, still unpacked from moving.

The cool air in the shade provided a sweet refuge from the stuffy hotness of the sun. The grass tickled your legs and you smelled the sweet flowery scent of a nearby flower bush as you sat to rest in the cool shade. The sounds of conversations floated in the air idly, existing as background noise to the calmness of your day. Children played with their dogs. Grandparents encouraged toddlers to walk. Parents cooed at their children after a tumble. The chatter was loud, but it faded to a comfortable white noise.

You thought about the taste of your favorite sweet ice cream melt in your mouth as you watched a child walk by with a popsicle in hand. That same ice cream had nurtured you throughout your childhood and the taste of vanilla never failed to make you remember the times you had bought the cone from the ice cream shop around the corner. That same cone that the worker handed to you in your youth nurtured your adulthood as you moved to an unfamiliar place. Your mouth watered as you laid in the grass, careful to place your arm behind your head and contemplate how familiar yet different the environment around you felt.

There was a wave of cool air as the breeze picked up. The sound of leaves rustling tempted you into closing your eyes, singing a lullaby that eased you into a trance. Birds sang and you closed your eyes to listen. You were tempted to fall asleep right there, but some nearby voices interrupted your tranquility. You cracked an eye open.

“Dude, I don’t know what to do, I lost all my progress on my track.”

“Everything?”

“Yea, everything. I’m so screwed.”

“Hey, it’s not that bad. Do you have the original file?”

“No, that’s gone too.”

“Oh.”

“Yea.”

“Maybe I can try and help you recreate it?”

“It took me literal hours to make. I think it’ll take longer to recreate it. There were so many track layers, and I’m so stupid too. There were original beats on there that only existed on that file. Good lord.”

“Ji, breathe. It’s gonna be okay. I’ll just tell Seungmin I can’t meet with him today and I’ll help you out.”

A moment of silence.

“Chan, I can’t make you do that. You’ve got so much to do already. And Seungmin won’t be happy either.”

“It’s okay. He can deal with it. Besides, I want to help. I feel bad, I know what it’s like to lose a whole track, near completion. It’s a shitty feeling.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Yeah man, what wouldn’t I do?” Some laughs. A soft smack.

“Thanks. I really really really appreciate that.”

“Of course. I just want to help.”

You peek around you, not moving your head to be more inconspicuous. Out of the corner of your eye, you see two boys sitting near the tree you were laying next to. They must not have seen you, considering you were behind them. The two boys seemed to be a bit lanky and awkward. One had blond-ish hair and was wearing all black, the other had chocolate brown hair and was fiddling around with his beanie in his hands. You quietly listened to their continuing conversation.

“I just feel like the songs I’m submitting are all being struck down. I’m not really sure what to change about them.”

The one with the beanie hugged his knees tightly to his chest. It seemed a bit hot to be wearing a beanie. But the same could be said for the one in black. You mentally rolled your eyes- boys. From their demeanor and way of talking, you assumed they were around the same age you were. Maybe the one in black was a little older.

“I don’t think there’s necessarily anything wrong with them Ji. Everyone’s just gotta focus on improving right now. I mean, look at Felix. He’s trying really hard to learn a new language he’s gotta sing in. Or Seungmin. He’s tasked with working on his dance. But like I said- there’s nothing wrong with their skills, they just have room to improve.” The older boy spoke so eloquently. ‘Ji’ as he was called, just nodded solemnly and looked off in thought. Chan, whose name you gathered from their approaching conversation, nudged his friend.

“It’s just the beginning. Don’t be too hard on yourself. We haven’t even released a full album yet!” Chan giggled and you could hear the way his laugh trembled with excitement. It was contagious.

“I guess you’re right.” Chan’s friend smiled. Chan just replied, “I’ve been here for years Jisung. I know a thing or two.” You smiled as Chan smiled, but quickly caught yourself for being creepy and listening in on a private conversation. However much you told yourself it wasn’t right, you couldn’t stop listening and focusing on how Chan encouraged his friend.

Even in the uncomfortable summer heat, surrounded by too many people and feeling uncomfortable emotions, Chan managed to lift his friend up out of the dumps. You were fascinated with the way this random boy managed to match the happiness of a puppy.

The conversation went on for a little longer, but you tried not to listen in much, assuming a private conversation should stay that way. But for the rest of the day, the demeanor of ‘Chan’ left an impression on you. His smile and his ability to be a friend to lean on stuck to your memory. Even after the two boys had walked away, you replayed the way Chan had so wisely maneuvered his friend’s negative thoughts into ones seeking improvement.

That afternoon, you decided to walk away from that park and get yourself that ice cream. While eating it, you wondered if you could ever be that type of person for your friends. You resolved to be that friend, walked up to the counter, and paid for the next person after you. That summer afternoon would stick with you for a long time.

It wasn’t until you frequented that specific park that you noticed the same boy over and over again. As the summer heat died down and the leaves of the tree you sat by started to change colors and fall off, you began to notice Chan more and more. At first, it would be brief, in passing. He would walk by you as you sat on a nearby bench. Or he would be listening to some sort of music on a bench as you made your walk to your tree. But eventually, you saw him more and more, and he saw you.

One day, he even said hi as you walked by. That was a mistake. You had walked by with your ice cream in hand (even in 50 degree weather) and he was seated on a bench when you two made eye contact. At first, you resolved to just walk past, but as soon as you tried to, he looked directly in your eyes and smiled.

“Hi, how’s it going?”

You tripped on the sidewalk crack. Fortunately, you didn’t fall. Unfortunately, your ice cream did.

“Oh my gosh- I’m so sorry!”

You put your hand over your mouth and stared at the now dirty ice cream on the sidewalk. For a split second, you didn’t know whether to shake your head and say it’s okay or to be shocked that he said hi to you.

Chan had risen from the bench when you dropped your ice cream and was awkwardly sticking his hands out, prepared to catch you when you almost fell. You were standing with an empty ice cream cone. You realized that it was just silent and had to say something. You looked at Chan.

“Oh no, It’s all good, it’s cold anyway.” You awkwardly laughed and looked around, not sure what to do. Should you be picking up the ice cream with a napkin? Do you just leave it there? You were so absorbed with the sidewalk that Chan’s response startled you.

“I can get you another one, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that. It’s just, I’ve seen you around before and wanted to say something but I didn’t realize the sidewalk-” Chan rambled on and you stared at him wide-eyed. You blinked. The wind picked up. The napkin in your hand (from your bag of course) flew away. Chan shut his mouth and watched it fly away. It all happened so fast.

The two of you ran after it, as it was the last one in your bag and he just wanted to help. The wind took the stupid napkin down a nearby hill and unfortunately as you reached for it, you lost your balance and fell forward. Chan, being the good guy he always was, reached for your waist as you fell in front of him and he lost his balance too. The two of you ended up in a heap at the bottom of the hill. It was a large hill.

“I am so sorry, oh my god!” Chan immediately got on his knees and checked that you weren’t seriously injured. You groaned and sat on your butt, trying to pick pieces of dry grass from your hair.

“It’s fine. I’m sorry, I’m super clumsy.” You huffed and rubbed your palms, which had scraped down on the way to the bottom. Chan reached for your elbow and hesitated.

“Can I?” He wanted to check your arm. You nodded. He carefully reached and gently grabbed your palms, checking them for dirt. He blew off the debris and carefully inspected them. You winced, your palms felt raw.

“They don’t look too bad, but some ointment and a bandaid should help. Are you okay? Do you need help getting up?” Chan looked at you. He was sitting on his knees and heels, leaning close to you. He must have crawled over to you after you fell. You shook your head, feeling your mouth go dry. This was super embarrassing.

“Thanks for helping. I think I can get up.” You smiled painfully, feeling the true shock of embarrassment. You totally just dragged this guy down a super tall hill with you. For a napkin. He nodded and smiled back, revealing two deep dimples on his cheeks. Your cheeks turned red, but you looked down at your palms before he could see.

He leaned back and stood up, reaching out to help in case you needed it. You attempted to get up, but the rawness of your palms burned so bad as soon as you put pressure to get up. You hissed.

“Here- grab my forearm. Carefully.” Chan reached out with his arms and instructed you. You complied and he grabbed your own forearms from below. With a count to three and a little grunt, he pulled you up quickly. You felt a bit dizzy from the fall and sudden pull. Chan firmly held onto your arms and steadied you.

“You okay?” He gently asked. You nodded and whispered a thank you.

“Can you walk?” You blushed and nodded.

“I can try?” You smelled his cologne. He was quite close. He looked you in the eyes with pure concern for a split second before breaking a wild grin. You smiled at his tousled hair and the dirt smear on his cheek.

Chan laughed and sighed in relief.

“Good. I thought I was going to have to cart you off this grass field with a stretcher.” He let go and you instantly missed the space where his hands had been grabbing you for support. You nervously laughed.

“At least we didn’t break anything right?” You lightly joked and brushed some grass off your pants. He chuckled, the novelty and the awkwardness of the whole situation already passing by.

“I’m really sorry about that by the way.” You tried to apologize again. He just shook his head and stuck his hands in his pocket.

“Nah, I should be the one apologizing. I was the catalyst for the events that just took place.” He groaned and it was your turn to laugh at him.

“It’s okay really.” You tried reassuring him. He suddenly got shy.

“Do you want to get another ice cream? My treat.” He shyly asked. You blushed and felt your ears get hot.

“As long as we don’t eat it by the hill, sure.” You joked. He smiled and laughed. You loved when he laughed like that. His dimples were eye-catching and his eyes sparkled. He motioned for you to lead the way and followed behind you up the hill, making sure if you fell again, that he’d be there to catch you.

And here you were, about 5 years later. You and Chan were sitting across from each other on the couch that you both owned. Sitting in the apartment you shared with him. Sitting in the home you made with him. 5 years of dating later, you now shared your life with him. No more falls, no more spilled ice cream. Just him as your pillar. But all of that seemed so far away from you now.

“Babe, I wanna fix this. I feel so bad, I really want to make it up to you.” Chan leaned forward to grab your hand, but you retracted it. Whether it was from anger, or from sadness, you didn’t care to be touching him right now. He had left you waiting on him, he had promised to take you out for a self-care day. But as usual, he ran late, and then late turned into not showing up at all. It was now the next day.

Chan had turned up at your door with a bouquet of flowers and the clothes on his back. You had slammed the door in his face.

“You forgot about me Chan.” You whispered and looked down, tears dripping off your chin.

“Y/n. I’ll do better. I want to always be there for you. I want to be there when you need me and be there when you don’t. I love you. Please.” He desperately pleaded. You stared at your palms. The open windows of the apartment invited the cool summer breeze. You stared at the smooth lines on your palm, remembering the cool air you had felt when you first met Chan. The sounds of the swaying tree branches and children playing echoed in your ears.

“Y/n?” Chan carefully studied you.

You looked up at him and studied his eyes. You took in his appearance. He looked tired. He looked like he needed to shower. Like he needed to be hugged and reassured. You remembered the conversation he had with Jisung. How he turned Jisung’s negativity into encouragement. How his strong presence anchored the fleeting fear of Jisung’s mind. Your eyes softened and you reached out to hold his hands in yours. He tightly grabbed them and kissed your knuckles.

“Chan? Remember when we fell down that hill after you made me drop my ice cream?”

You smiled. He looked startled, but then his tired eyes curved with his smile. He chuckled in embarrassment.

“Yea. I felt so bad. I was just trying to get your number.” He lovingly smiled at you, a twinge of embarrassment dusting his cheeks pink. You closed your eyes and held his hand, remembering the way he tightly gripped your arms that day. You remembered the soft smell of his cologne and the grassy smell of his jacket as he handed it to you on your walk to the ice cream shop. You rubbed his hand with your thumb and laughed. You truly remembered the tone of his voice as he comforted Jisung. You deeply remembered the concern in his words as he asked if you could walk on your own.

“It’s okay Chan.” You looked up and he searched your eyes for any sort of anger. You smiled at him, and thought of all the times he had comforted you, or comforted anyone in his life. You realized then that all he truly wanted was to take care of the people he loved, even though he drew from an empty cup himself. You got up and he got up too, sighing as you hugged him close. You wanted to be that person for him, whenever he needed it the most.

Feeling his hands, feeling the memories of your meeting in your palms, it made you remember the promise you made to yourself to be a pillar for anyone you knew. This wasn’t about you anymore. This was him too. So, instead of you, you chose the both of you. You chose him and you chose his well being.

“It’s okay Channie. I’m here for you. I’ll always be.” You whispered and you pulled away slightly to kiss his cheek.

Chan’s concerned face turned into one of deep relief and deep exhaustion. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes and you wiped them for him as they fell.

“I love you so much Y/n. I just wanted to help.”

His words echoed those of the words he had spoken five years ago.

“Channie. Let me help you. You do so much for everyone, I think it’s time you get help too.” You gently told him and you held his face in your palms, glad that he had helped to heal them all those years ago.

He nodded and closed his eyes, accepting your love and patience. You kissed his lips and he melted into your embrace. You held his face in your hands, ready to always keep the memory of him in your palms.

#skz #straykids #skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz x you #bangchan #bang chan #chan #chan x you #leeknow #changbin #hyunjin #jisung #felix #seungmin #jeongin #lovestay #you make straykids stay #goodnight!

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morvantmortuary · 7 months

Text

morvant mortuary x the boy au -

welcome to town (pt. II)

(pt. I)

summary: your realtor tells you everything about the old Morvant place. you make a decision, and a couple of new friends.

warnings: an attempted (but thwarted) assault on the reader by some rando. alcohol consumption. wall man!Maxi being a total creep and watching you sleep, among other things.

general: second verse, weirder than the first!

Within a couple hours, not only did Bev make good on her promise and have lights and power back, but you’d gone through the whole house flipping switches and pulling cords wherever you found them.

Just in case, you figured, just while it’s getting dark your first night here.

You already had water running to clear the faucets and pipes, and your suitcases haphazardly tossed in a pile in the master bedroom - a climb that definitely left you a little bit winded, after. You’d celebrated by changing to clothes ratty enough to clamber around a dusty house in, what little makeup you’d worn finally off. Like you were just having an average evening at home.

If this could be considered a home.

You were standing in the parlor, watching the sunset through the window you’d seen the shape in. But the longer you stood here, surrounded by the light fixtures cheerfully aglow, the more certain you were that you had imagined it.

Come on, now. Shadowy half-lit House with a bad reputation, after an entire family saga of death and destruction had just been generously heaped on your listening ears? Of course you’d imagined it. It would’ve been more worrying, you reasoned, if you hadn’t seen something looming behind the realtor. Seeing something just meant you were responding to social stimuli as you were meant to. Humans were supposed to be spooked by stuff like that, as your massive Horror movie collection indicated. It was only natural.

…Fine, so you were certain that you weren’t about to watch The Babadook or Lake Mungo in this place anytime soon, but that was you just trying to be mature, and not set yourself up for getting scared by perfectly normal House noises.

“It’s literally fine,” you said out loud to no one, your hands resolutely on your hips. “It’s my place. I can handle being here by myself, I live here now.”

That said, you looked down at your delivery app, checking the ETA like you had five minutes ago.

When it seemed a brief moment of human contact was no closer to you now than it had been then, you sighed - perhaps a little more tensely than you would admit - and looked around, trying to decide what else to busy yourself with in the meantime. If you were doing something, you were moving, and if you were moving, you didn’t have time to focus on what may or may not be looming in the corners of your eyes.

It was just you, as always, handling shit and getting it done by yourself.

…Or were you? By yourself, that is?

“Oh, right!” You snapped your fingers, remembering a promise you’d made what felt like ages ago, but you knew was probably only a few hours max. “My little buddy.”

You made a beeline for the viewing room, entirely missing the tall figure that silently moved out of sight at the top of the staircase, and thought about how you were only going to get this weird little doll man because you were a person of your word. Definitely not because even the idea of being accompanied by something that couldn’t talk to you was mildly more soothing than being here by yourself. Because you weren’t afraid of being here by yourself! Of course not! You were totally fine!

You opened the door, flicking on the lights instinctually, and basked in the sight of the slightly cobwebby chandelier illuminating the whole room.

…Okay, so maybe the paint was peeling just a little more than you’d realized. But still! Your own viewing room! In your own funeral home! How cool was that!

“So,” you continued talking to yourself out loud as you walked, taking your time to inspect things in the light. “Definitely going to need some paint, probably going to want to find a guy to polish and wax this floor professionally.” You picked up your foot, checking for dust on the bottom of your sock. There was a lot. “Actually, put that in the ‘Definitely’ column,” you said, putting it back down again. “And maybe also reupholster these chairs? I don’t know,” you frowned as you passed the rows for would-be mourners. “Is this old in a vintage, classic way, or is this old in a ‘Church rummage sale but it’s scary’ way? Or should I just get new chairs?” You pursed your lips. “Maybe when I see how much internal restoration the…” You trailed off as you turned to look where you were going. “Piano… needs.”

The little doll man was laying face up on the floor.

You frowned, looking from him to where you’d sworn he’d been sitting on the piano, and back down again. “…Huh.” You were still talking out loud. “…Not where I left you.”

The little man smiled up at you from where he lay, as if you’d happened across him simply reclining there.

…Five feet away from the actual piano.

You pursed your lips in thought. Okay. Simple enough. You probably knocked him over when you picked him up.

No, wait, you didn’t remember touching him. If anything, you pointedly remembered not touching him.

Alright, so you knocked into the piano without realizing it.

But you didn’t remember knocking into the piano. And definitely not hard enough to send him five feet away. That would’ve left a significant bruise on your end.

…Surreptitiously, you prodded the hip that had been closest to the piano, making sure there wasn’t some massive bruise under your clothes you’d just forgotten about in the rush of… everything.

There was nothing.

“Huh,” you repeated uselessly, your tongue poking nervously at the inside of one of your cheeks. “…Okay.”

You looked directly across from the piano, as if the small guy could have been… ‘traveling’, per se, in any sort of direction.

The only thing waiting there was a large framed painting - something you’d missed, in your murky inspection before. It was a replica of Ivan Kramskoi’s Inconsolable Grief: a woman in a dark dress stood in a well-appointed room, covering her mouth with a handkerchief as she refused to look at the heaps of well-meaning flower arrangements sitting at her feet. You recognized it from your time in school, when you’d thought a lot about how depictions of grief and mourning tended to look eerily similar across multiple eras. Kramskoi had painted a portrait of his wife, after the respective deaths of their two young children only some years apart — in some lights, an all too-eerie omen of what would befall the family here, you realized. It suited the room: emotional but still delicate, a fine lady experiencing her sorrow but not letting it overwhelm her. Exactly what you’d imagine the previous owners would have wanted to inspire here. This copy was even larger than the original, if you recalled correctly; it was nearly as tall as you were in this frame.

But there was nothing that would explain why the little guy at your feet had moved so far, in the brief span of time you’d been outside.

Like someone dropped him when they were trying to leave, your brain suggested.

The distant sound of a bell made you jump out of your skin, whirling to look behind you—

…And realizing it was simply the front doorbell.

“Fuck me,” you wheezed, clutching your chest for a moment. “Oh-kay, that’ll be quite enough of that. C’mon, fella. Let’s get you some dinner and a bath.” You reached down, snatching up the little man and hastily retreating from the room.

The front doorbell rang again, as if the person was impatient.

“Sorry! Coming!” you called towards the door. You hastily set the little man down on the parlor table where you’d thrown your bag, rifling through until you found your wallet.

When you opened the door, the pizza delivery guy looked surprised. “Whoa,” he said accordingly. “Someone did actually move in here. I thought they were just fucking with me.”

“…Yeah, hi,” you said, blinking at him talking like you weren’t standing right there. “I’m, uh, the new funeral director here. Or I will be,” you added quickly.

“Wild,” the guy said. He was tall and gangly, somewhere in your age range - whether older or younger than you, the somewhat oily state of his skin made it a little hard to tell. You wondered if he’d washed his face at all today, but the faint scent of stale weed and human sweat that drifted in on a breeze made you realize quickly that he probably hadn’t washed anything, actually.

You glanced curiously at his eyes, hidden somewhat under what appeared to be the stringy top of an outgrown mullet, and they were indeed fairly red.

Yeah, fair enough.

“Yeah,” you said, muffling a chuckle. “Tell me about it. Here, let me get this so you can head back.” You looked down to unzip your wallet. “Sorry, you surprised me, or I’d have it—”

“So is it just you?”

“…Out already,” you finished. You swallowed against your mouth threatening to go dry. He was high, he probably didn’t mean that like it sounded.

You looked up, blithe smile already in place to play this off as a misunderstanding. “Sorry?”

His eyes were already fixed on your face, though, rather intently. “Is it just you,” he asked, his words a little too slow. “All alone, in this big old house?” His voice sounded curious, like he wanted to look around — but his eyes slid lower on your body instead. Much lower than you were comfortable.

You cleared your throat to buy yourself a second. To lie, or not to lie. “Well,” you said, your voice frank now. “Until the dead bodies get here. Then it’ll get pretty crowded.” People normally got squeamish about your job — especially men, for some reason. The mere mention was usually enough to put someone off. “Then it’ll be me putting their faces back together and draining all the fluids out of their cavities, so. You know.” You nodded to the pizza box in his hand. “Can I—”

“Huh.” A leering smile spread over the pizza guy’s face. It wasn’t an outright grin, but the way it was so slow, like old blood trickling to the tray drain… it made your stomach flip, and not in a good way. “Wild.”

You were suddenly deeply, emphatically aware of your situation: you new were in a small town, alone, in a House where neighbors only heard you if you were screaming at the top of your lungs, and even then, they weren’t inclined to do anything about it.

Clearing your throat again, you held out some bills to him emphatically. “Yeah. Wild. You have a nice night.”

“You’re short.” Pizza guy barely glanced at the cash in your hand.

“No,” you blurted without thinking, so eager were you to get him gone.

“Yeah.” Pizza guy sniffed, his grin growing. He jerked his head to your hand. “‘Bout… another five or so.”

You glanced down. You’d only grabbed a five and a few ones when you’d meant to grab more.

He gave a laissez faire shrug. “It’s okay,” he said, and you hated whatever his tone was dripping with. “If you don’t have it, I’m sure we can—”

“NopeIhaveit.” The words all came out all in one breath like buckshot. You looked down at your wallet as much as you dared, your teeth subtly grinding together. “One sec.”

“What’s your rush?” Pizza guy said, and oh, fuck, that ripe smell was closer now. The hot edge of his breath was just reaching your shoulder. “I’m not in any hurry to...”

You were about to tear your wallet in half looking for that last five, or anything close. You were never keeping fucking receipts in here again, you were about to throw them all on the floor in your haste to just get him away—

“Go… nowhere.” His voice changed, getting even more spaced out and followed by a wheezing squeaky sound.

You looked up immediately, wondering if he was about to spit on you or something—

And he shoved the pizza box roughly into your arms. “Keep it.”

You looked up from not dropping the box just in time to see him staring, eyes wide and buggy and red, at something over your shoulder before he turned and hurried away from the door.

“Youhaveanicenightnow,” he said over his shoulder, his words tripping over one another as he himself nearly tripped over an overgrown bush.

“I-“ You frowned, looking between his retreating back and the box. “Don’t you want—?”

“Nope!” he about yelped, waving a hand like he was trying to get rid of a cobweb. He barely got his car door closed before he was pulling away, tires nearly squealing as he stepped on the gas.

You lingered in the doorway until he was totally gone, staring in utter confusion. If you’d turned around, you would have noticed the ragged-looking shape that silently retreated up the stairs again, from where it had been standing just within the pizza guy’s line of sight. A warning.

You belonged to this House now, whether you realized it yet or not.

But instead, all you saw when you turned was your little cloth pal waiting for you on the table.

“Well.” You kicked the door closed behind you, looking from the box back to him. “…Welcome to town, I guess.”

Your tiny silent friend just smiled back.

—

You sat at the kitchen table while your friend sat in a bucket of suds on its surface, the pizza box open and half-empty between you. You hadn’t pulled out the nice china still in the cabinets — you’d need to sort through that, see if it was better to sell it as-is or save it. You were more accustomed to eating out of boxes and bags anyhow, trying to keep more dishes from piling up in your sink.

Taking another long sip of screw-top wine you’d packed for when you got home, you sighed appreciatively. “I don’t normally do this,” you confided, glancing at the little man soaking in soap and warm water — your first clean batch since you’d been here. “I swear. Normally it’s one glass on a work night, two at most. And I really shouldn’t be doing this tonight, especially,” you added, looking back at the mostly-empty bottle. “I have — ugh, so much to do tomorrow.” You set the bottle aside, putting your face in your hands for a second. “I know the cleaners have been through, but we still have to go in and sanitize all the important stuff, you know? And I need to get internet set up, and tell my landlord I’m not renewing, and figure out how to sell all my old shit, and on and on…” Your hands fell to the table with a thud, causing the little man to jostle slightly in his bucket. His face was, as always, cheerful.

You smiled in return, tired but triumphant. “But at least it’s mine, right?” In a moment of exuberance, you threw your hands in the air. “I have a house! And a business! I did it!” You giggled loudly, then turned towards the door of the embalming room stairs behind you. “I DID IT! THANK YOU, DEAD PEOPLE!” you called cheerfully.

If you’d been more sober, you would’ve sworn the atmosphere in the room was suddenly tense. Like crackling in the air right before lightning strikes.

“…I’m sorry you’re dead!” you added a moment later, your hands still in the air, but feeling a little bit bad for bragging now. “Rest peacefully, and stuff!”

Nothing moved.

“Well,” you sighed, looking back to your friend. “Can’t please ‘em all.” You stretched, groaning, and sighed. “I guess we should turn in, huh?”

The little guy just smiled at you, still damp.

“…Yeah, okay,” you sighed, getting to your feet. You closed the pizza box, moving to put it in the fridge — and paused, waving a hand. “I’ll do it after I clean the fridge tomorrow. Just in case. It should still be fine, right?”

You didn’t wait for your friend to answer, fishing him out of his makeshift bath and dumping the water in the vast sink. After a few minutes’ rinse, you wrapped him in a dishtowel, patting him gently dry as you walked back into the foyer.

Standing at the foot of the stairs, even as wine-lulled as you were, the third floor bedroom still felt awfully far away.

You’d have to cross a lot of dark to get there, even with all these lights on.

“So,” you said at last. “How about we just, um. Crash on the couch tonight. Yeah?” You looked down at your little friend before turning, heading back for the relative safety of the living room just off the kitchen. After a few minutes’ debate, you allowed yourself to turn the floor lamp off - but the lights from the other rooms were still softly poking in around corners.

So you were technically sleeping with the lights off, your first night here. Like a Real Adult.

You yanked what excuse for a bra you wearing out from under your shirt, and wrapped yourself in a thin blanket you’d brought from home. Sure, your pajamas and a real quilt were just upstairs. But this was fine for now, right?

Indeed, it proved to be. After carefully setting your tiny escort on the table to finish drying and patting his head goodnight, you barely got through the first ten minutes of your sleep playlist - mostly instrumental piano pieces, staid and soothing - before you were already out.

Dead, for all intents and purposes, to the world.

The man managed to wait another twenty minutes before curiosity finally got the better of him.

With practiced silence, he padded from an unseen entry way in a corner full of shadows, then stood and gazed at your prone form from the doorway.

He stayed there another fifteen minutes, watching the slow hypnotic rise and fall of your breathing.

“…Pretty,” he whispered in soft awe, his breath stirring the lank hair covering half his face.

When you twitched in your sleep, jolting slightly, he flinched — bracing as if expecting you to sit up and scream.

But you didn’t.

When you kept right on sleeping, even nuzzling further into the couch cushions, he sunk to an impossibly low crawl, creeping unsettlingly further into the room.

You were oblivious to the red eyes that appeared like ruined moons over the couch’s arm, mere inches from your face. They didn’t seem to blink once for a good few minutes, as they watched the lights from the kitchen play softly in your hair.

Slowly - impossibly slowly, by fractions of inches - he leaned forward, then gave it the smallest, softest sniff.

He spasmed slightly, as if he was resisting the urge to shove his nose in your hair and wildly inhale, and looked quickly around…

To find your compression bra from earlier heaped on the floor.

He snatched it immediately, shoving his whole face into that instead, and rocking forward as if to smother himself with it. Without a sound, he then stuffed it down the front of what looked like a very tattered waistcoat.

Freezing, as if caught, he slowly turned to fix his crimson gaze on the side table.

Your little cloth friend - looking like a smaller, cheerier, less grungy version of the bedraggled man huffing your intimates - gazed at his larger counterpart, his smile now seeming like he was trying to overlook the half-living man’s deep social abnormality.

The red-eyed revenant leaned closer, inspecting the doll with a critical gaze before making a soft, vaguely impressed exhale: “Clean.” He extended a finger, reaching as if to touch his old friend — before he froze mid-air, as if examining the digit in the faint light for the first time in a while.

He made a small exhaled noise of self-reproach behind his hair, looking at the doll still as he wiped his hand - unsuccessfully - on the remnants of a dress shirt sleeve. He continued to stare at the doll for a period of time that spoke of longing, before looking back to your sweet, sleeping face… and sighed softly to himself, shoulders sagging. He gave the doll the tiniest wave before scuttling on, low to the ground, to the kitchen.

You were completely oblivious as the man returned and perched gently on the far end of the couch, watching you the entire time he silently nibbled on the smallest of the leftover pizza slices. When he was done, he continued to linger and simply stare, nearly hunched double on himself to avoid accidentally brushing you.

Once he was certain you were dreaming, perhaps of somewhere nicer than this awful House, he curled into a surprisingly small ball for his long frame with the ease of someone who’s done it far too many times.

He slept soundly at your feet, like a pet dog, until the first fingers of dawn poked through the curtains.

As he crept back into the inscrutable wall panel he’d emerged from, closing the wall of the family room back up, he couldn’t help but sneak a last look at you - so beautiful and oblivious in your slumber to his cursed presence.

He considered it, all in all, an excellent first date.

(kind of short compared to part one, but I really didn’t know where else to cut it that made sense. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ anyway! thanks for sticking with it!

here’s to more spooky fun to come soon💀✨)

#maxi morvant #maximilian vincent morvant #the boy au #morvant mortuary #southern slasher ocs #slasher oc #necromancer oc #slasher oc x reader #genderqueer reader #non-binary reader #bisexual reader #queer reader #mortician!reader #daniel brühl fc #monsterkisser fics

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brick-a-doodle-do · 1 year

Note

Please just give me anything from your tiny workers au!! Literally anything and I will absolutely cherish it :D

*ahem*

would you like the first chapter? would you cherish that?

(also fuck scheduling, have it now. >:D its not proofread tho fyi)

tiny workers (i)

words: 4069

cw: vague description of depression, swearing

—–—

Knocking wakes him up. Loud and repetitive knocking.

Wilbur blinks, trying to adjust to the golden sun that filters through his blinds, even as closed as they are.

The knocking still hasn’t stopped. His nerves flare up at the continuous noise and he sits up, blinking a few more times to adjust to being awake before he finds his way out of bed. The hardwood under his floor has never felt more neutral, which makes him unusually aware of the surrounding air that feels so invisible that it’s suffocating.

Knocking.

He tries to ignore it and leaves his room, traces the length of the hallway and continues the beeline to the door, where he can faintly hear a muffled conversation from behind.

Wilbur stops, standing at the front door. Through the agitating knocking sound, he holds his head in his hands for a moment before swiping his hands through his bed-ruined hair.

“Wil, mate!” Phil says, loud and clear through the door. Wilbur groans.

Quietly, he listens as Phil murmurs something to Techno, who in return whispers an ingenuine apology.

Right there, he considers walking away. They can’t knock forever.

But, his conscience figures he owes it to his family to at least make an effort. And so, taking the cool doorknob in his hand, he opens the door and puts on a fake, strained smile. “Yes?”

“Good mornin’,” Techno butts in before Phil can. Wilbur raises his eyebrows at him tiredly.

“D’ya mind if we come in, Wil? We have something for you,” Phil explains, and Wilbur tries to find the courage to decline. And despite how much he told himself to promptly shut the door on his father and brother’s face, he found himself instead nodding along.

“Yeah, go for it,” Wilbur agrees and steps aside.

Phil leads, brushing past him, where Techno lingers in the doorway for a moment. “I’ll admit, he’s stretchin’ this a little bit,” Techno warns, and before Wilbur can question what he meant, his vision is obscured as Techno walks past him.

He shuts the door and settles in on an armchair, which sits across from the couch Phil and Techno have found a seat on.

“Are you here for what I think you’re here for?” Wilbur asks, an explanation hung between them.

“It depends on what you’re thinking, Wil,” Phil hums, laughing to try and break the tension. It doesn’t work, and in the end it’s only him finding amusement. His father sighs. “We don’t care about you not replying to us, or making an effort to be social, we just care about you actually getting outside,” Phil starts, glancing at Techno, whose expression is nothing but curious at Phil’s particular wording, “so, see, we found something.”

He can’t say he enjoys the sound of that, and especially not as Phil pulls his phone out and taps at his screen, only to hand it to Wilbur. A long article catches his vision as he’s handed the phone. “Here ya’ go,” his fathers says, trying his best to smile.

Wilbur stares, face wooden as his finger slowly scrolls down his father’s phone.

Impending outlines of familiar figures and silenced commotion of bated breath keeps his flat quiet.

His eyes are hung heavy as he scrolls, skimming impatiently through the articles’ pre-advertisements. Something unintelligible of promised family fun and worthy relaxation flies past his eyes until he finally reaches it, an overdue title with a cheesy caption.

COLONY PARKS

“Tiny adventures await! Explore small worlds of wonder with tiny people, big fun!”

Wilbur squints at the screen, his doomful eyes blending in with his uncertain frown. “An amusement park? Are you fucking— fucking come again?” he scoffs. He had to ask; lingering in the back of his mind is hope that he isn’t sent to this hellhole.

His father lets out a sad sigh. “It’s for a few hours, Wil, that’s nothing compared to the things we could do.”

Handing the phone back, he shakes his head. “I think anything could be better than this. I thought your goal was to get me out of the house to have a good time. This is just—fucking childish!”

“I think one could pretty easily argue that you’re being childish right now,” Techno remarks. Phil elbows him, but Wilbur see’s the way he struggles to keep a smile down. “Heh? You know I’m right, but excuse me for putting a mark on your ‘good-parent’ facade.”

Phil stares at Techno, struggling down a smile. Wilbur shrinks into himself.

Eventually, Phil sighs. “He’s right,” Phil starts, and he watches as Techno smiles, “Wil, you gotta give it a try. One shot. If you don’t like it you know we won’t force you into it and we’ll find something better for you,” he finishes, and Wilbur solemnly nods. He knows better than to pick a fight with his father or Techno.

“Fine,” he murmurs.

–

When a day had passed after the conversation, Wilbur couldn’t say the passing time with the absence of people had let him think, because he honestly had to answer and say he had continued with his musty routine. The only thing different was he was wallowing with slight agitation with his father.

The sudden announcement had been a spring that he wasn’t exactly ready to release. He’d much prefer to ease into a “recovery”, but he can’t get everything he wants.

And now, with his phone vibrating loudly under his hand, he found his sore eyes opening, unadjusted to the sunlight that strung into his room, the sun high in the sky. He’d nearly drifted off again when his phone disturbed him.

He pulled himself up, propping his upper body up with his arm and unlocking his phone. Rushing notifications from Techno continuously layered until he had the decency to open them.

A long string of “urgent” messages.

From what he could gather with his five-hours-of-sleep brain, Techno was parked outside.

Begrudgingly, he tapped at Techno’s contact until the phone was ringing. Techno picked up immediately.

“You wakin’ up at twelve now?” Techno asks.

Wilbur sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, what little energy he has murmuring out a quiet response. “Techno what are you doing downstairs?”

“I recall Phil ‘n you coming to an agreement with the theme park.”

Wilbur groans. “Now? Today? He never told me that,” Wilbur complains. Groggily, he pulls himself up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. The air is uncomfortably warm, but somehow the feeling of the heavy blanket over him still felt lovely.

“I’m only waitin’ ten more minutes before I go up ‘n get you myself, just so you know, Will-I-am,” Techno says.

“I’ll be down.”

And he was, with a fresh set of clothes and tamed hair, more than anything he’d been able to put together the past few days. He tried not to pay attention to how gross he felt, considering the greasy streaks of hair he felt just by trying to make it look presentable.

And his laundry was growing scarce, it was only a matter of time before he’d start rewearing things from his pile of filth in the corner.

Never mind that, though, he had one free day of being outdoors where everything was covered for him. But the thought of it still made him feel unnerved. Alone in an unfamiliar place that was probably packed with people. He’d heard of the place, probably one too many times over the years.

It was unconventional for Phil to think he would come out of his shell there of all places.

But, he did, and Techno was there, already walking around his car to seemingly come and find him. “That took you so long,” Techno murmured, turning back around at the sight of Wilbur. The brunet hummed in response, trying to sound amused. He got in the car, feeling out of place in such a tidy and unusually vibrant place. But he’d been in Techno’s car year after year, so he couldn’t say it didn’t feel familiar.

Techno drove off quickly without a word, and Wilbur buckled his seatbelt in and slumped against the window. “How far is it?” he asks on a whim.

“Nothin’ convenient,” Techno mutters, glancing at the GPS on his phone. “But it can’t be longer than two hours,” he quickly reassures.

Wilbur groans. “He wants me to be happy but can’t pick a convenient place for me to be happy at.”

“At least he’s trying,” Techno quickly butts in. “Not a lot of parents do that, bad parents ‘n all. That’s why there’s a lot of orphans.”

“I don’t think that’s what orphan means, Techno,” Wilbur muses.

“Don’t avoid the topic. And orphan can mean what I want it to mean ‘cause I’m the one killin’ them.”

“I’m not fuc—that’s still not how it works!” Wilbur argues, smiling ever-so-slightly.

It was like that the rest of the ride, brotherly banter between them while Techno still tried to drill into his head that Phil meant good. And Wilbur considered it, which was pointless because he knows Techno is right.

He watched as the time on the GPS went down slowly, until eventually it announced that they’d arrived. Which wasn’t entirely true, because even as Techno made a right-hand turn, down onto the path with a road sign announcing the park in big black letters: “COLONY PARKS”. A thick arrow pointed right, down the road that they were currently pulling onto.

In the distance, Wilbur spotted an overhead bridge with a big overhanging sign that decorates the entire side of said bridge. A dull brown background, the name of the park in what he recognizes as oversized shoelaces, suitably on-brand.

There’s strands of large, fake grass that obscures some of the words, and other giant versions of everyday things: buttons, bugs, probably other things had he been paying attention. It was interesting how all-out they went, but it didn’t excuse the fact that he wanted no part in this.

Fucking Phil and his need for him to be fine.

From that point forward, the scenery had changed drastically—there were towering blades of glass that gave the intended shrunken effect (where, if he was being honest, it made his mood lighten a bit). Certain sculptures of oversized shoes or again, bugs and old trinkets of the “nearby humans” lay in the “fields of grass”. He could certainly see the appeal, speaking for the children he knows passing by this very place with a much more exasperated and fulfilled face, while his dull and unamused; trying to hide how eager he was to look at the detail in everything.

“Honestly, I can see why you don’t wanna go here,” Techno chimes in after a moment, himself looking around at the scenery.

“Don’t say that unless you’re turning us around,” Wilbur deadpans. When Techno huffs, he shrinks deeper into the seat and tightens his arms around his torso.

(*)

“Woah—fucking shit!” Tubbo chants from afar, where Tommy can just barely hear him over the gust of air as a golf ball flies past him, narrowly missing his body. He thought he had that.

The human above him chuckles, and Tommy holds back a rant with a sour “I’ll fucking sue you”.

“Yeah, yeah,” the human murmurs, walking past him with ease to the next hole.

Tommy stays put, looking back at Tubbo, who’s sitting in the crevice of one of the fake rocks. “I’ve lost my pep, Tubbo,” he starts, and Tubbo’s already giving him a knowing look, but Tommy continues, “I’ll steal you a free thing—just please cover for me, my lungs are dying and I think if this person fuckin’ taunts me one more time I’ll probably get fired.”

Tubbo hums and shuffles up from his spot on the ledge. “I got you, bossman. Cut yourself off, or whatever. Go take a break,” he agrees.

Tommy’s offer slipped through Tubbo’s finger and he hurried off before he could remember. He bids a ‘thank you’ and speeds across the fake grass of the course, following along the left-hand side of the previous hole then hoisting over the low bricks that line the sides.

As he lands in the dirt, Tommy slows his pace and basks in his unofficial break.

He approaches the small hut for mini-golf booking, where Karl was leant against the counter with his phone in front of him. Lucky bastard, getting to use a phone with such ease.

Briefly, the worker noticed the tiny and Tommy nodded at him solemnly, and Karl offered a small smile and returned to the device.

Tommy ignores his jealousy (and his impulsive desire to steal it) and carries on, ducking under the tiny-worker entrance and slumping his shoulders as a gust of air-conditioned room hits him instantly..

Quiet feedback from his earpiece-turned-radio breaks the quiet silence, and Karl looks down at him. Tommy in return pauses, looking up at him.

There’s only a beat of passing silence before Karl chimes in with, “Hey, Tommy.”

“Hi Karl,” Tommy greets, wavering his previous path to cut across the floor; closer to the human. “You giving me a boost up? All the newcomers that are gonna have their mind fuckin’ blown when they come in here,” Tommy grins, “You know I just gotta see that.”

“Why should I help you?” Karl asks, and Tommy scowls at the question. “Will you put in a good word for me?”

“Oi! Come on Karl, don’t be a dick,” he yells up, scoffing.

Karl stares down at him, hand cupping his chin.

Fuck this. “Fine, dickhead. Who to, fuckin’ Big Q again?”

“Actually–yeah.”

Tommy makes a gagging noise, shaking his head. “You fucking romantic,” Tommy jokes—though he can’t say there wasn’t sincerity to it; he never saw the appeal of romance. But, the longer Karl stares at him with an expression even Tommy can quite literally not say no to, he shrugs. “I’ll try again, then, but I won’t accept assholery against me when he rejects you. Again.”

Karl nods, satisfied, then crouches down with his hand extended. With practised ease, Tommy steps on and adjusts his footing.

The human stands, and Tommy watches greedily as a view of the opening-hour crowds start fumbling in. Amusingly enough, Tommy also has a view of the human he was up against earlier.

He steps off of Karl’s hand and rushes across the counter. Karl returns to his phone, and Tommy takes a seat near the edge closest to the crowd.

There are the usual: families of three or four with giddy smiles as they ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ at the decor as they try to ignore the inconvenient rush of people, and the couples that look too happy to be there. There’re grandparents with their kids, large groups of teenagers and large groups of adults, kids—everything.

But, one person in particular stands out to Tommy. There’s no kid clung to his side or running off, not a partner at his shoulder. He doesn’t look particularly invested; his shoulders are shrunk in on himself and his lanky torso, and frankly Tommy can’t say anyone has stood out quite like that in such an unordinary way.

Usually, the people who catch his attention are those with colourful clothes or boisterous voices and laughter. This guy is making himself small, and he looks quiet at best. It’s funny—someone so tall and dull couldn’t blend in with a familial crowd, but he attempted it anyway, and it was amusing to watch. Simple as that.

(*)

Kill him. Right here, right now, kill him.

Phil’s interpretation of fun and relaxation is still puzzling to him, because as eager people run from every direction and pay no mind as they brush against his still form, it doesn’t feel relaxing. He can only imagine the park stretching out for miles, and he can’t say that trudging any deeper would make this jungle of people any more coherent.

So, he looks to his left and makes a beeline over to the least crowded place he can find.

He goes sideways against the crowd, keeping his eyes narrowed to try and keep his vision straight ahead. He stumbles as he catches himself before he trips over a stroller, and just manages to find his footing on the path leading up to the attraction.

It’s a simplistic design, holding nothing special against the initial drive up, with towering flowers that cast a shadow over some areas, fake rocks that seem to fit in like pebbles against the flowers.

Wilbur takes a habitual look around, noticing the layout of a golf course.

Lucky find, he muses.

The path cuts short and opens to a wider area, where a wooden (yet somehow still posh-looking) stand is built. Behind the counter, a worker who couldn’t have been older than twenty five was scrolling idly through his phone. As Wilbur approaches awkwardly, he seems to catch the worker’s attention. He looks up, flashing a genuine smile as he sets his phone down.

“Hello,” Wilbur greets.

“Hey!” The worker greets back, and Wilbur tries to compose himself to talk. “Look, let me be honest with you, I’ve never been here before and I just—I think I need something to pass the time.”

Karl (if his nameplate had a say in it) nods along, looking fairly interested for any theme park worker. “Uh, do you want to try a few rounds on the course?”

“Yeah, that might be a better start than sitting around,” Wilbur agrees. Out of the corner of his eye, something shifts, but he can’t pay attention to it for long before Karl’s talking to him again.

“Okay, and have you been introduced to the rent-a-tiny feature?”

“Uh—oh, they may have mentioned it. I can’t say I was listening,” Wilbur explains. Karl nods.

“Oh. Well, newer members get it free,” Karl begins, ducking behind the counter, “but that is specifically for attractions. To take them around the park it would be extra,” Karl pops back up. “And there’s a new-member discount for that as well, usually for if it was paid online. But it’s totally optional!” Karl finishes, finally, and Wilbur takes it in.

“I—my dad set this up, I wouldn’t know what features he got. Again, I wasn’t exactly listening when they read it over.”

The conversation continued, back-and-forth for another five minutes until it was squared away that Phil had opted for the rent-a-tiny feature, which he hadn’t been thrilled to discover. But it was valuable money to Phil, and in one angle it was for a good cause. And so, again, his conscience won.

Karl had fitted him for the club and left him to choose a ball, while the worker set off to find a tiny. It was startling to know he was going to see one, purely because of his uncertainty that he would manage to handle such a small thing—person—whatever. It was unnerving.

And that’s why his heart ran nervously when Karl finally emerged, something wedged between his forefinger and thumb.

A borrower. A real fucking borrower. Wilbur tries to hide his suddenly piqued interest in the being, watching as calmly as possible as the two approached and the borrower was set down onto the counter. He looked irritated, but still put on a fake, flashy smile for customer-him.

“Hello, you’ve interrupted my break time but I can take a break for you, I saw you over there,” the borrower points to the crowd to Wilbur’s left of them, “and you looked all sad as shit,” the borrower finishes. His voice was so loud, so clear, no stutter in sight and swearing proudly. It was hard not to seem impressed.

“Good luck with him, and have a good game!”

Wilbur tucks the club under his arm and pockets the golf ball, then stares at the borrower.

“Uh—” Wilbur’s voice ran dry. Karl had disappeared out of sight, and that left the two standing there.

“Dy’a want me to walk then, dick?”

“Ah—no, I can just pick you up?”

“You’re one of those people?” The borrower asks, raising an eyebrow at him in plain frustration. Wilbur feels guilty, but he does feel an underlying irritation of his own. “Look, set your hand down. I won’t bite you,” the borrower instructs. Wilbur obliges reluctantly, slowly approaching his hand to the counter. “And while I’m at it, since you’re a bitch and got me for a day, I’m Tommy. Big T.”

Wilbur rests his hand on the surface and responds “Wilbur”.

Tommy nods and turns his attention to his transportation, which Wilbur has been focussed on excruciatingly long to keep steady. As tiny skin brushes onto his, Wilbur’s entire body freezes. In that moment, his strength is kept in keeping his hand still. It was also at this contact that Wilbur remembered how touch starved he had been as of lately, with days of laying in bed with nothing but a blanket and his clothes stuck to him.

And now, there was a borrower climbing into the palm of his hand, settling right in the crevice where his fingers couldn’t help but curl at the touch.

Wilbur tries to shake away the feeling of contact against his hand and turns away, Tommy kept carefully in his palm.

“It’s fucking stupid to be scared of something smaller than you, pussy,” Tommy says, looking up at him through Wilbur’s curled fingers.

Wilbur furrows his brows and looks down in return, shaking his head. “I’m not scared of you, I never implied that,” he argues.

“Uhuh. You seem to be going the wrong way, I recall the first hole being back there,” Tommy says, grinning like he’s already known.

Wilbur turns on his heel and starts off in the right direction. “And you didn’t want to tell me?”

“Well, you don’t seem like the most talkative fella’,” Tommy points out. Wilbur furrows his brows.

He laughs half-heartedly. “That’s fair.”

(*)

So much for a break.

He watches as Tubbo grins at him from the last hole, while he’s sat in a palm at the very first one. Tommy wrinkles his face and flips the other off, who in return follows suit.

Then Tubbo is distracted by the other human, leaving Tommy alone again.

Might as well be worth it to pry Wilbur out of his shell if their day was going to have any confirmation of a good ending.

“Alright,” Tommy announces, shuffling up from his spot on Wilbur’s palm and pushing his fingers away. The human obliges, standing scarily still. “How—how uh, how do you want to play?”

“I have no fucking clue what that means,” Wilbur says.

Tommy frowns. “Okay, well, I can help you, or I can, well, not help you—which I’ll be fair, either way ends in me not helping you, unless you're really lucky. And I don’t think you’ll be lucky enough, even though you are a sad, sad guy."

“I’m not sad!”

Tommy stares at him.

“Okay, whatever, you caught me,” Wilbur says sarcastically. “And do whatever you fucking want, I’m sure I could punt you no matter you’re advantage,” the human says, chortling. Tommy gasps.

“Fucking try me. Bitch.”

Wilbur hums and crouches down carefully, an irritating slowness to his movements that makes Tommy’s world go by in slow-motion. He’s scrambling for purchase on the fake grass as soon as he knows he can, which happens to instantly trigger a reaction from Wilbur, who’s other hand moves to catch him.

Tommy lands on more skin, the softness of the landing being both comforting and infuriating.

“Oi! I can handle myself,” Tommy yells as Wilbur takes the initiative to let him down. “I value my safety, I wouldn't've jumped if I didn’t, dickhead.”

The gentle-ness continued for the remainder of the game. And despite Tommy’s request for a stronger hit, (which he did execute a couple times, until it dispersed into small and lazy hits), he never seemed to take it to heart.

But, the game did eventually end.

There wasn’t any winner that got to celebrate, it was just a little bit of a lighter mood. Tommy, hesitant as he would be to ever admit it to the human, had taken a liking. It was rewarding to watch a more violent part of him come out the more Tommy kept pushing him.

The rest of the day was ahead of them, and Wilbur had already seemed more eager than he had been to interact with the tiny.

—–—

EUEUEUEUEUUE IT'S REEEEEEEAAAAAL !!!!!!!!!

#brickquiries #mw #brickfic #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #dream smp g/t #dream smp gt #g/t #gt #t!tommy #g!wilbur #tiny workers au #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHGHG

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incarnateirony · 2 years

Text

*Dips glasses in Corporate Oil and looks around*

Alright guys. Let's do this, let's talk about where we really are, developmentally. With the WB, CW, The Winchesters and Gotham Knights (this piece will admittedly focus most heavily on Winchesters, as I know more about its actual development than GK, but the corporate elements of WB will apply to it).

All of it. Because you guys have come to realize there's a lot behind the veil.

Has anyone been watching the Snydercut battle in DC? This seems like a random place to start with for Supernatural, but I promise you, it's critical in understanding what's happened, where we've been, where we've traveled and where we can possibly head from here.

So how is it DC ended up here, and how is it relevant to Supernatural?

Everyone's entitled to their own view of media within reason, depending on their aggression about it proportionately in relation to the actual content and what it is beyond what it's fought about. Personally, I always found Snyder's stuff reductive to characters and just mindlessly operating on rule of cool, but some dudes liked it. So when the first hollering started, I thought, good for you, voice what you believe.

But they never shut up. Instead, they amplified, they got more shrill, all points were taken to the seventeenth degree, VERY bizarre and lowkey threatening videos were made. On and on and on and on and on.

And now they're acting surprised that after literal years of it, the new CEO wants them to shut the fuck up and considers it all a mistake. Gee, I wonder what gave him that fucking idea.

OK. Cool. So anyway, remember the S12 market testing? The stuff I was posting about in S12, that everyone from Patrick to Mary Manchin argued with me about until years later we figured out how to safely clear the receipts without anybody getting blown off the planet with lawsuits?

2016 was leaning closer to modern TV. Closer to the representation demands the younger teen audience generally sets and demands, assuming it will be present on all products. We were leaning that way. So why would, say, Dean and Cas need market testing?

Well, perhaps, it's because in season 9, shortly after Carver recovered the property from near cancellation into being CW's #1 hit above all, the Destiel fandom decided to monkey climb some oblivious business suit without any context of the development chain leading Destiel to where it was at that point. They harassed him until he deleted twitter, they ran multiple articles trying to burn the property down as queerbait, then when the S10 packets dropped with a new sexuality section declaring everybody straight, and everything hit lockdown, they made fucking confused noises and called it Victim Blaming to point out any sort of liability in the dramatic lockdown.

But listen, Chad Kennedy does not fucking care what you think is fair or equitable. He cares about money, his properties, and NOT being torn apart by little shitheads on twitter. For god's sake, his name is fucking Chad, how did you guys expect a Corporate Chad to react.

Less stupid fans had put together books of stats, demographics, and LGBTQ or general audience testimony to package off to elite names in that same S9 year, only for one to survive and move into the room, and be shared by a new showrunner named Dabb, at the same time market testing coincidentally began.

It was already a contentious topic. Turning around a 2005 behemoth that is distinctly not packaged as LGBTQ ware is harder than turning around the titanic and even what berens accomplished was impressive in perspective. I hate market segregation as much as anybody, but it's a reality.

You know what else is a reality?

That the Winchesters is branded as an LGBTQ property out of the gate, as is the developing studio running it, with permission to use the IP, and the potential namesake character there may be reservations over is played by that same studio owner, with 15 years of history.

Zaslav just completely wiped out the upper ranks at WB. Roth had already left and Zaslav called him back personally. Roth, Jensen's mentor, is directly advising Zaslav on properties. So genuinely speaking, who is more qualified than the managing production house owner with 15 years experience with this content and particularly this character to make decisions on what to do with that character, if Roth tells Zaslav to just let Jensen do what he do.

This is a real potential in the air. Other corporate shakeups in the past have sort of been [rolls the dice] "maybe they're not dicks???? no????" but this time there is actually a path through the woods.

Beyond even the queerness of it, the entire structure of the Winchesters is very revealing of how much Roth warned Jensen.

For all the chicken little nonsense about Nexstar aging up, they're actually taking the alternative path I had implied other media outlets were missing, which is instead diversifying the age bracket of content while rotating in things closer to pre-merger CW like (hopefully black) sitcoms. Their new statement is "give us the new, but also give us what we would have had old". They've stated they intend to stay on genre TV but the age restriction isn't just for kids, the content and budget will be more targeted.

Congrats, we're getting something not just mass produced swill, but things WB is banking its entire network TV future on.

Depending on the response to what properties they chose to order, this is them fighting for their rights to timeslot on Nexstar before Nexstar reappraises 2023-2024 content from other sources being brought in. This is why, for example, Misha commented on the size of GK's budget compared to normal, or why Winchesters had enough time, and budget, to reshoot, which SPN never ever fucking had.

Roth warned Jensen. Because for all the confused noises fandom made about "Why John Mary?" it's actually simple if you think about the world beyond yourself. If you go "maybe other people are different than me?" well.

The 70s. A fanciful, whimsical time. the 50+ audience will live for it. And even with shit like Carlos because they remember the 70s they'll remember their gay friend carlos too. But the cast is young and vibrant and queer to bring in new blood and generations, and Dean (and the eventual others) will be there for the older, middle-aged if you will fans that grew with the series.

Roth warned Jensen. Because Jensen built the perfect product to survive the diversification demands of CW/Nexstar. And made the next potential packaged truly viral product to match its forebearer. And all in a time that Zaslav is searching for strong franchises.

Don't know how far, exactly, we'll get to go but we've never had such a clear path there before. There's a possible path through the woods and we're on it with Dean, looking through the haze to see what light is at the end of the road.

Gotham is also getting the benefit of this to some extent, but Gotham is not itself the launch of a franchise as much as a safe bubble in which to use an existing franchise during a tumult. Both are important in different ways, and both are WB's future stake in TV network share or full collapse into digital by 2025.

"We must see the bigger picture. Even in the darkest hour, our light is waiting to guide us."

-- Supernatural 15x15, Gimme Shelter

#wb #zaslav #roth #production #the winchesters #gotham knights

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chalkxtabletxtowers · 2 years

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[So, I can't draw humans, or sleazy green fictional men, for the life of me. But you know what I can do? Write Fanfiction. So the logical next step is to write an Ace x Reader. Specifically targeted towards the people that made me simp for him in the first place.

Psst, Ace simps, come get your juice]

It was dark, night setting over Townsville already, as two figures, chuckling quietly, made their way to the last store that still had open around this late hour. "No, wait, don't go further, we're there" Ace said as he opened the door, letting the bright light from the fluorescent lamp on the store ceiling shine slightly outside "Oh really?" You said, chuckling surprised as you made your way into the store "Oh wow, this really has a flood of snacks! Look at this!" You said fascinated, making your way over to the plethora of colorful bags that advertised different sugary and savory snacks. "I know, it's great. Ya don't think this is my first time here, do you?" He asked, hands already on the slushie machine, filling up his cup to the brim, the liquid almost threatening to spill out the top. "Not really" You mumbled as you decided on some bags with sour gummy worms inside. "So, are we going to pay for this?" You asked with a raised brow. You had come to experience your boyfriend stealing once, sometimes twice, so asking if he was planning to pay in the first place was always better than asking how he'd pay. You were happy for him, whenever he had money, but you weren't sure if you wanted to know where it came from. "Ya, I got some money" He mumbled as he took some crumbled dollar bills out of his pants pocket. "You know that I could give you some? The diner doesn't pay a lot, but I know that you and the other boys can use the money. Sometimes more, than me" But to that suggestion, Ace shook his head, almost violently "Listen- I know I can't offer ya a lot. We literally live next to the dumpster. But I want to give you something at least once in a while. And- and if you'd pay for it- it wouldn't come from me. I know I'm not a rich guy, but I'm trying" You sighted deeply as you patted your boyfriends shoulder. You didn't want expensive gifts, or giant bouquets of flowers, the little gifts that he gave you had much more meaning. And you loved Ace, regardless of the circumstances. You loved him for him, not for what he could provide you. "I know. I know you're trying. But if you ever need something, tell me, yeah?" He just nodded.

Eventually, you two left the store after Ace payed for your drinks and your snacks. He had gotten you a slushie aswell, memorising your favorite flavour by now. As you walked your way to the dumpster, you playfully shoved and teased each other, chuckling along the way and just enjoying the night. "Ya know, ya... wanna maybe watch the stars with me?" He asked as he pointed to the roof of a old car, standing at the site of the dumpster. "Oh I'd love to!" You said with a smile as he reached his hand out to help you crawl on top of the car. You leaned against him, head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around your hips. Like this, it wasn't even cold, you could feel the warmth radiating from Ace's body and you knew, he'd give you his jacket the minute he noticed you were shivering. Yes, he was a mess and yes, he didn't have much, but he was cute and attentive. "Ya know what we should do?" He suddenly asked into the silence between the two of you, making your head perk up in surprise "Hmmh?" You asked, not sure what would come next "Snake did these... tattoos recently right? With the needle? On his arm?" Oh, you remembered that. Mostly because you had been the only one paranoid about the hygiene. But you had to admit, it looked cool once it was done. "Yeah, and?" You asked, raising a brow. "We should get some too!" He suggested with a grin, taking the last sip of his cup and then throwing it down on the ground to the rest of the waste. You made a surprised noise, almost choking on a gummy worm, before looking at him. But his look and his grin told you he meant it fully serious. "I-" You started, but then shrugged. You only lived once, right? And you loved this man. And even if it would break apart, it would always stay a fun memory of your teenage time "Sure, let's do it, why not" You then said, jumping from the roof of the car and waiting for Ace, who took your hand to lead you inside the hut "Oh I love you!" He said with a chuckle before you two disappeared inside for the rest of the night.

#ppg #ppg ace #ace copular #ace x reader #ace copular x reader #ace

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anhed-nia · 3 months

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You can really hear the smug voice of an insufferable grammar wonk dictating the tagline for this stupid movie. THE LESSON has one of my favorite movie problems to hate on, which is that it's about someone impossibly great at their craft creating an impossibly great masterpiece--a premise that almost no one can execute, unless you're like making THE RED SHOES with Moira Shearer who was beyond human, this is basically the worst plot setup ever. If you don't literally have the greatest living artist to help make your movie about the idea of the greatest living artist, just don't do it, I'm serious. And actually it's even worse when its a story about a great writer writing a great story, because what is that supposed to imply about the screenwriter who wrote it? And god forbid it's some sort of fantasy tale in which you get to have the uniquely insulting experience of a storyteller telling you that storytelling is literally magical, the implication being that the storyteller is himself some sort of high priest you should worship. But the king of this general problem is FINDING FORRESTER, a movie with all sorts of issues, the main one of which is that it's supposedly about "great writing" but you basically never catch a glimpse of what that consists of. It's like making KING KONG with no ape, just people telling you how big the ape is. Holy mackerel he was a whopper, take my word for it! Big, big ape. The biggest. As I recall your closest encounter with the amazing writing of the story's young prodigy comes when he drops his backpack while trespassing on scary Old Man Forrester's territory, and Forrester leaves notes all over his notebooks like "CONSTIPATED THINKING" and "ATMOSPHERE PUNGENT." Spoiler alert but near the end of FINDING FORRESTER, there is finally going to be a big public reading of an amazing essay--but then as soon as it starts, the music swells and there's just this hilarious montage of extras pretending to listen to something awesome. An amazing mass performance by all the extras.

So anyway THE LESSON is about how Richard E. Grant is a super amazing writer writing his highly anticipated next novel, and Daryl McCormack has to come to his palatial estate to tutor his neurotic son. Daryl spends a lot of time presumably doing great writing, spying on Richard E. Grant while he eats out his wife Julie Delpy, and spontaneously spouting verse or rattling off Wikipedia articles about great cultural figures. THE LESSON has a lot of cosmetic similarities to SALTBURN so it's really obvious that some sort of perverted plan is being hatched by one or more of the people involved, and like I just could not wait for them to get on with it. Daryl is so smarmy and precious and dewy-eyed I just wanted to punch him in is pretentious little face, I never imagined how angry I could be at someone just for reciting Shakespeare, I was really rooting for him to get victimized by the rich people. At least Richard E. Grant is always exciting even when he's saying the dumbest "smart guy" shit imaginable, he's such a demon, but this script is really the pits. It's almost like the guy who wrote it actually hates writing and writers and has some sort of bone to pick with people who are good enough to get novels published. Actually the guy who wrote it is a playwright who does some sort of comedy routine with an acoustic guitar, and I don't think I need to know a whole lot more about that. But at the same time this movie could have done with some jokes, and it was stingy of him not to offer them.

I do have one nice thing to say about THE LESSON though, which is that intermittently, for no particular reason, there are these great inserts of beavers dicking around in the idyllic pond by Richard E. Grant's house. It's so startling when it first happens because apparently beavers make THE WEIRDEST NOISE, it's so cool and fucked up, it sounds like a sick kazoo and I totally love it. I have to think that the beavers were included in the movie spontaneously during production just because they happened to be there and it always adds value to have random nature stuff if you can get it. Nobody ever refers to them, there are no other animals or animal-type metaphors in the picture unless you count some sort of analogy to Julie Delpy getting her beaver licked constantly. That would be pretty funny actually.

N.B. I couldn't find a video of the angry beaver noises that closely resembled the ones in the film. It would be weird if it was just some eccentric foley choice, I don't think it is, but in any case you'll just have to imagine it unless you want to watch THE LESSON.

I'll say one more thing about SALTBURN and then I'll stfu: I guess this is vaguely spoilery so stop reading if you care about that, even though I have to say I found that movie so obvious. By the time it finally gets around to its big perverted twist, I just kind of felt like, Well yeah, DUH. Usually I when I come to a movie like that, I tolerate the beautiful young people and stay for the psychotic debauchery, but in this case I found the movie's darkness so forced and condescending and basically meaningless that I couldn't bring myself to give a shit. The best parts of SALTBURN are when the beautiful young people are having a great time, trying on fun outfits and frolicking on the castle lawn. That seemed to me to be the most honest part of the movie, and actually I think that when people tell these stories about how rich people are secretly corrupt and dead inside despite their veneer of happiness and achievement, it's clear that they're really in it for the fetishistic depictions of extreme decadence, and the twist or the comeuppance part is just a cheap, moralizing excuse to fantasize at length about how awesome it would be to be rich. I guess SALTBURN's big excuse for existing is its ultimate assertion that being jealous of rich people is way sicker and more disgusting than being an actual rich person who hoards resources and plays games with the plebeians. I find that pretty suspect, and I think it would have been a better movie if it just let itself honestly fetishize power and luxury instead of making shady excuses.

#not blogtober

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toririvas · 1 year

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first time listening to superpowereds year 1! welcome to the live blog, to be updated as i get through it.

I'm listening to the graphic audio version, if that matters.

Let's begin, I'm starting the liveblog on chapter 4 because I figured it was a good idea to document it. Also, it's a slow work day. Sue me.

First chapter is good at getting me intrigued. I have to say Vince is a solid protagonist, and his VA is fun. I just imagine him as a silver haired Miles Morales, 12fps and all. I'm intrigued with Nick because I goddamn love these types of characters. (If you've ever seen me tag stuff for Ike, you'd know.) I heard Nick and I'm immediately like, Nick Furcillo from supermassive games' The Quarry? Pretty hair, pretty face, and praying that's all you notice kind of boy. Tboy swag detected as well, I may just be projecting a little for him tho. Herschel... oh, I pick him up in my ARMS. I have a thing for the sweethearts, I really do, and I have a character that's kind of similar to him (always left to clean up the messes). The dynamic of him and Roy is. Well, it's sure a hell of a thing. Speaking of Roy, holy shit dude, chill. I get it, though, he's the literal representative of ego, blah blah- stop bullying your headmate>:/. MARY. Mary I am going to stare at you. Oh my god. I love weirdgirls. They have such swag. Hyper powerful weirdgirls? be still my beating heart. And, Aelwyn Aberna- I mean, Alice Adair... She's cool. I like the mean girl archetype. It's a vibe. I hope she goes feral like Regina George becoming a jock.

Okay, onto the actual plot.

Okay, it's a program to turn Powereds into Supers. I got that from my dad's summary and the back of the book. Cool.

Nick gave me vibes from the start. Why are you like this. I can tell you're sad, weirdo. Vince having clothes and a bed and being weirded out by it is heart wrenching. I didn't get what Herschel's deal was when I first listened so I just sort of accepted the Shifter thing. Alice is neat, Mary is weird. Cool. I've got the dynamic.

Combat training! That's typical, the placements make sense but the rule of five and the not being able to challenge the top five is... Weird? I guess the rule makes sense but not the waiting until the end of the year thing.

New side character, Sasha Foster. Speedster. Roommates with a Julia? Fun. Punky vibe. That's fun. She's into Vince, that's neat.

I'm skipping around a little because again, starting this late

Wow, Roy is a cunt and a half. That mf is friends with Mitch (NPCs) in another universe, I can feel it. Lmao, get stronger without your powers is his arc. Got it. Solid.

Did he... Charm someone into getting him into the bar? Does he have a fake ID JUST FOR HIMSELF? Insane.

Goddamn, going back to Casino night for a second, obsessed with the weird mind games of Nick and Mary. Like. He's so fucking weird. What's with his journaling? Why'd he delete it? The fucking sunglasses??? Is this some kind of fucking Mr. Spender moment (shout out to the 1 other Drew Hayes/Paranatural fan, who I am pretty sure does not follow this blog).

Poor Hersch and the damn mornings after. I hope he gets to be liked by someone genuinely.

Okay, back to chapter 4, will report back with thoughts.

Vince is awkward. We love this. Graphic audio funneled kiss noises directly into my ears. Disgusting.

Roy plans to fuck him up but hail mary, it's Mary. And she thinks Hersch is nice, so she's threatening Roy. Good for her. Holy shit, by the way, she's so scary. I'm in love for real. I just see her in my brain as kinda Allison Reynolds, kinda Lydia Deetz, kinda Eleven in terms of aesthetics, but she's Rose Lalonde in scaring the fuck out of people. God bless.

Wouldn't Herschel being officially classed as Super mean he has control over Roy appearing? Why isn't he forcing Roy into going/taking control when he doesn't do what's best for the host body? Anyway. Roy has a challenge now, let's see how this goes.

Chad stomped him, as I heard in the audio sample. Fuckin nice.

Midterm, huh? Okay. Twenty page paper and an ethics project. Interesting. Pairs? Nick and Alice, lmao. I think they're bitey at each other. That's hilarious.

Vince and Will. Cool! Everest is their project.

Hersch and... Alex the Jedi! Okay cool. The more I listen to Alex talk the more I'm like *Donald?*

Nick and Alice are fun. Love that there's jazzy music whenever Nick's brain is in focus.

Will has a twin, Jill. Wow. Okay fun. Will is a support member! Neat.

Jill vs Sasha. Sasha wins! Speedster makes sense. Fast healing, probably? Decent recovery.

Chess again. Hersch is getting better. Nice. Herschel is her rook, Vince is her bishop, Alice is her knight, and Nick is her king. Obviously, she's queen. Alice is so interesting. I hope they become girl best friends.

Girls day!

Movie night boys!

Vince: I'm gonna leave!

Mary: no you're fucking not.

AHA HE DOES HAVE A FAKE!! GOD. Alice is going to make plans. She has decided it. She has DECIDED it. Shut up, Nick, you *know* you wanna go to Halloween with her. Nerd ass.

Nick, flippantly, in the beginning of the book: Mary I have /trust issues/

Nick, upon realizing she was taking that as a personal project: well fuck me running.

Alice... Oh my god nobody's ever stood UP for her. She likes Mary!

Back to studying. Nick and Alice. Yeah. They have this "I know you"/"I refuse to be known" dynamic that flows both ways. They're getting together I'm calling it. Calling it!

Globe, huh? Big traitor? Alice's father is his old teammate? Fuckin SWAG

Alice is opening up? Nick is doing it in return? Fucking knew he didn't have parents tho. Motherless behavior, Nicky.

Defective? Oh, Alice...

Movie night. Uh. Will and Jill, Sasha and Vince. Uh. Zombie movies. Video store? When is this fucking set ???

HaLLOWEE- "Roy was either an ancient gladiator,or a male escort catering to a very specific fetish" i CACKLED

Nick's got some fuckin eyes. I know he does. I don't know what's wrong with them but this Strider mother fucker ain't flying under my radar.

Oh shit, okay, Michael is gonna attack Vince outside. That's not a blatant use of his power or anything. Feels...weird man.

Nick is being a hilarious wingman. Pft. "You realize there's no girls in earshot, right?" "yea them hoes be shutting us down." Wild.

Thomas? Okay, new guy shut this shit down. He's cool. He's a stickler. That's important for later.

Alice would be friends with Adaine Abernant. God. I love her. Autism wins again.

CHAD IS GLOBES KID? yep.

Coach wants to talk to Vince. I looove this. Scared of his own strength. Poor bishop. He has the Eyes! The Paladin Eyes! I say a lot about DH character archetypes but that man makes paladins I want to *love*. I've never met a paladin by him I DIDN'T love.

Vince's dad went to this school? Cool.

Updates to the Dean from Numbers.

Edit to add I think my last addition got deleted. Whatever. Started Nick's backstory flash. It's official, I love the cynic. Happens every time.

#meliveblog #melodys mumblings

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stevethehairington · 1 year

Note

💭📚for the fic writer ask game?

riaaa ty for the ask!!

💭 What inspires you and your writing?

honestly anything and everything does! i've pulled inspiration from just about everything you can think of - other shows/movies/books, posts i see, stories people tell me, something i hear someone say, things that have happened to me personally, poetry i read, songs i listen to, random objects i see out in the wild, things i'm feeling.

all i need is something that sends a spark into my brain and then i'm off.

📚 Is there a fanfic or fanfic writer you recommend?

ooh, okay i looove reccing fics and writers so this is a great one. however, i feel like most of the writers that i would normally rec are our friends or writers i know you've already heard of lol, sooooo i will give a couple of fics this time instead!

first up:

someone else's favorite song by @fastcardotmp3

i am currently about halfway through this one and it is absolutely gorgeous. a beautiful exploration of grief and friendship and love and what that all means when it gets tangled up and the edges start to blur. literally anything by dot is a masterpiece and this one is no exception to that!!

heed the ominous warning of talking heads by audacity_of_bluejays

this one was SO good omg. i know you're picky about your time travel lol so before you see that tag and go hm not gonna chance it, it's important that you know that it's not really time travel per se? it's more like steve gets transported to an alternate universe that exists because he made one decision instead of another at a previous point in time to show him how his life would be if he actually does that. and he has to like figure out how to get back to his own universe so he can make sure this one doesn't happen for him. it's a really good one and the platonic stobin in this one is also sososooo good, they are ride or die in any universe in any circumstance and that's so nice to see here.

your cosmic call sign by @nancywheeeler

okay i know i recced this one on the server already after i finished reading it but im reccing it again bc holy fuck it's so good and i love it so much. the vibes in this one are off the charts. it's got sci-fi, it's got bowie, it's got radio dj eddie, it's got a homemade documentary, it's got aliens, it's got everything. oh and the format of the fic is SO cool, like it's got radio show excerpts and newspaper article pieces and things like that interspersed through the actual story that add SO much and it's just so awesome and so creative. also the fact that super 8 (aka my favorite movie) is mentioned in the beginning authors note is just. an automatic win for this fic bc that movie is my favorite and it is so underrated and the fact that it was an inspiration for this fic is everything to me sdkfs.

hours and hours by @steddiesupportgroup

i read this one a while ago but it has been on my mind sooo much the past few days lol. it's a pwp lmfao, bc what is friendship if not reccing pwp's to each other right? but yeah it's got a lot going on but never in a way that makes it feel overwhelming as a reader, and it all melds together very well. it's heady, it's languid yet purposeful, it's passionate, it's fun, it's full of care. a very very good read!!

noise by @viagoh

i'm sure nico is probably tired of seeing my name pop up in their notifications but i cannot not gush about all of their stuff. their art is everything to me but this fic!! this fic is sooo good and sooo beautifully written!! a glimpse at steve and eddie's relationship and a brief exploration of steve's parents and what they meant to him. a trip down memory lane but in a way that's sort of bittersweet. tw for some memory loss but it's more of an allusion to it, like it's not quiiiiite happening yet but it's something that will happen later down the line. but yeah, the characterization in this one is just sooo spot on and i love the way that steve and eddie's dynamic was written here, it's so good.

fanfic writer ask game

#asks #riality-check #fanfic writer ask game #fic recs

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dramaticdads · 2 years

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Excerpts from the journals of the Oak family - Part 1: Hildy Russet

So I listened to At the Mountain of Dadness and haven’t stopped thinking about it since, so now I’m making that everyone else’s problem. More parts are in the works with other characters as the main focus.

Word count: 2183

CW: Horror elements, deterioating mind, death, eldritch/lovecraftian horror things, unhappy cryptic ending

Summary: Excerpts from the journal of Hildy Russet of the San Dimas Defender.

From the journal of Hildy Russet

Year: 1939???

The name’s Hildy Russet of the San Dimas Defender, and just a few days ago I thought I was dead. Hell, I ain’t even certain it was days and not years or some bananas measurement of time beyond my comprehension. I’m writing this from a forest that’s out of this world! Literally and figuratively speaking.

I’m doubtful this piece of writing will ever reach anyone but myself, but I’ve been taking frequent pictures like the newshawk I am, and I’ve been intending on trying to describe them even though I’m not sure developing film’s even possible around here. I’ve been asking myself the question – Would I even want to see the pictures I took right before I came here? When they appear in my mind I can sometimes pretend I just imagined them, and even just that makes me quite the jitterbug these days. Either way, the sound of the camera calms me, and don’t get me wrong and assume there ain’t things worth recording here! I could go on for weeks about a few days of wandering. I swear, whenever I think of it it feels like I’m on the gigglejuice, because it sounds like such boloney that just hearing it would blow your wig off!

But I’m just bumping gums now. To summarize what got me here, it’s hard to remember. Or well, perchance it’s just hard to think about. There was a being, noises that gave me a headache and made me feel like my brain was made of helium. People in black and white hues that indicated the front-page story of the century. And yet, a large chunk of it is fuzzy to me, covered in some kind of mental static. A creature cooled Mr. Streep right in front of my eyes, bashing his head in in a horrifying image that has yet to disappear from my nightmares. I’m starting to doubt it ever will.

It was as if I was sucked into something. Like a tornado whisking me and the building I was in, away to Oz. My, it sounds completely bats to describe it as so, but I’d compare it to nothing less, if only it had been more pleasant than what it was. You may say my head’s no longer screwed on right, and I wouldn’t say you were wrong, but it seems I’ve reached my very own Oz, only more expansive than anything little Dorothy could possibly have travelled through.

Needless to say, I was quite punchy after the ordeal. As I looked outside, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this wasn’t anywhere near Tennessee, and my surroundings and memories appeared equally like a distant dream. I left the building crawling on all fours because I was certain standing would make me barf. I wasn’t sure for how long I’d been knocked out but there was nothing living left in the building and if there were bodies, I’ve blocked them from my memory long ago. I couldn’t stand to be in the building for a second longer than I had to, and the entirely unfamiliar surroundings were somehow less hard to look at. I futzed around on the forest floor for what might’ve been hours, and I don’t dare to think of the sorry state I was in.

I would likely have stayed passive like some crumb had I not been forced onto my feet by a hell of a sight that would’ve surprised me more had it not been for the events prior. I initially thought it was a bear. A bear would’ve been reason enough to run off, but as I got another look at its face, I noticed a beak of a small bird and feathers coating its chest in place of plain fur! It was much like a mix of an owl and a bear – hell, some kind of owl bear. And so, dear likely non-existent reader, you must know that I just had to bring out my camera for the first time in God knows how long. You must understand that this was the sort of thing that would’ve made headlines had it been photographed in the deep forests of America. You might think me a fool, as I’d seen worse things at this point that were much more difficult to comprehend, but I think that might have been one of the causes for my excitement. So, I found my beat-up ensign camera and shot a picture. The flash was bright enough to surprise myself, and the noise was louder than I remembered it to be, and soon enough the beast had its beak turned towards me, and as an experienced reporter, I knew it was time for me to run.

And what a rush it was to run after all that time! Blood was rushing through my veins, and I finally felt like I had a heart with all the adrenaline pumping into it like some bean shooter! That sensation is described a little too literally I’m afraid because I doubled over in abdominal pain before I got far enough away. Yet before I had the chance to play with the idea of not surviving the encounter, I heard a voice more calming and smoother than the voice of Louis Prima himself! As I turned my head I saw, not an angry bear-owl of a beast, but instead a tall man. Or well, he seemed like a man for all intents and purposes. He was taller than most men I’d seen before, was snazzy as can be, and carried himself with a sort of otherworldly serenity. He wore some tunic in all sorts of green shades as if he was plucked right out of medieval times. And it may sound like I’m making this up (much like everything else in this entry), but I swear he was speaking to the beast in a tongue I’d never heard! It was as if he was the creature’s friend, and I was so transfixed by the beauty of the scene that I barely noticed him approaching me.

The first thing I noticed once he got closer was his ears. I don’t mean that in an impolite way! He was with a lack of a better word handsome as hell! His ears were sharper than those on your average Joe, yet another sign that he was not entirely human, but it was not inhuman and uncanny in the way I’d almost grown used to expecting. Then he spoke to me, in what seemed like plain English which surprised me, and he asked me if I was alright. It was the first words anyone had spoken to me plainly since the screams and hectic sentences exchanged during the final battle, and before I knew it, I was sobbing in the stranger’s arms. He didn’t shove me away. Instead, he let me stay like that for a while, and it was what I needed after all that hoo-ha, I guess.

I must’ve stuck out like a sore thumb, and he commented on my strange style eventually. I explained as much of the situation as I could make sense of at the time, and the gentleman immediately told me more about where I was. As had been my suspicion, I had somehow reached another world. I still don’t know what this world is called, but I ain’t so sure it’s possible for me to leave it. Either way, the man told me his name and brought me to a nifty little cabin in the woods where he offered to let me get some rest in a bed. Maybe I shouldn’t have trusted him willy-nilly, but I was so exhausted that my desire for rest overpowered any reasonable bone in my body. Fortunately, this really was a good man, because hours later I awoke to a delicious breakfast including some berries I’d never seen before. They were extremely good!

Since then, the man has been showing me around. I’ve taken plenty of pictures, and I don’t think my trust in him is misplaced. I’m starting to think this other world ain’t so bad, and every new sight excites me.

There’s been a strange simmering around my wrist. It concerns me, but I think it might just be a lingering injury from the journey to this world. I can’t help but feel as if it connects to something deeper inside me, however.

____________________

Year: One winter since my arrival

We spent the day together in the village. It faintly reminds me of where I grew up. Once we made it to the cabin, he grew a flower with his magic, and I snapped a picture of it. He placed it in my hair, and I felt nice, warm, and comfortable. He told me he’d fallen in love with me, and I told him I already knew.

I never thought I’d experience something that simple after everything.

____________________

Non-dated entry

There’s a static in my head, like incorrectly developed film, grainy and red. Calling. Reaching. I want to grasp it in my dreams and let it out into the world like a scream. It’s as natural as my blood and it’s beautiful and horrifying all at once. I can’t understand it, I don’t know if I want to, but I want it to be free.

It scares me, so I try not to linger on it.

____________________

Year: Two winters since my arrival

The wedding was the best day I’ve ever had. Quite the scoop, the elf and the human from another world. There were many flowers, and our new home is perfect and cozy. I miss my record player. It was strangely one of the first things I missed, and it’s even more obvious now that I cannot play recorded music in our home. I’d love to play him “’Long about midnight” because describing it isn’t nearly enough. I sing it to him, sometimes, and he says he likes that.

____________________

Year: Three winters since my arrival

We’ve named our son Barry. A beautiful little kid.

I saw something in his eyes. Grainy and red. Faltering.

I hope he’ll have a happy life. I’ll be there for it, of course.

Static. I think I saw static.

I’ll keep him safe. Of course, I will.

____________________

Year: Six winters since my arrival

Barry is a talented boy. He knows magic beyond his years. It’s not like I know much, I’m a bit of a twit about these things still, but I can tell his father is proud of him. I am too.

I love Barry so much.

I feel like something strange is happening to me. I keep seeing Meryl’s death over and over again, and the scream is mixing in with something else. Calling out to me. I saw Barry reaching for my hand, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was reaching for something else.

He’s strong. A perfect boy. Even if something tried to eat him up from inside, he’d contain it.

What do I mean by that?

I’m so tired.

____________________

Year: Seven winters since my arrival

I tell them stories about my world sometimes. It feels nice to think of it. Of my childhood. Of the articles I wrote, even if they were never published. I was only a cub reporter, but I’ve seen a lot of things still.

I’ve seen so many things.

Why am I thinking about them now?

Barry likes the stories. It must be interesting to have origins from another world that you’ve never seen, so I’ve told him as much as I can remember. I miss earth. I miss the music. I’ve sung him lullabies from back then, but I keep forgetting the words.

Barry is a special boy and I have no doubt he’ll do something great one day.

My husband is worried. He says I’m distant. I know I’m distant. Why am I distant?

____________________

Non-dated entry

My world is gone. It was taken in the crossfire. I’ve crossed the worlds and I’m all that’s left. I think I’m all that’s left. There’s nothing else it can take.

The remains are in my camera.

Should I burn it? Maybe I should burn it.

It’s all I have.

This world is so beautiful but it isn’t mine. This family is so beautiful but it

It’s mine. I’m a mother. I’m a wife.

I’m Hildy Russet of the San Dimas Defender.

I wish there was someone to read this. I wish I could tell them.

I saw them die.

____________________

Non-dated entry

I hope you see it one day, Barry. It’s beautiful. A wonderland through a looking glass.

____________________

Non-dated entry

I gave my camera to my husband. I don’t know if I should’ve done that.

I don’t think I can look at my own son anymore. I love him. I want him to be happy. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

I wonder where I’ll go when I die.

____________________

Non-dated entry

They close the windows and they dim the light

To hide their doings from a stranger's sight;

Everything is going right,

'Long about midnight.

#dungeons & daddies #dndads #at the mountain of dadness #amod #hildy russet #dndads hildy russet #fic #dndads fanfiction #in which hildy has some sauce but in like a sad way #also how obvious is it that I had three tabs of 30s slang open for this

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rockstar-edits · 2 years

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"Hi, i hope doing good. Can i have a Mha matchup please.

I'm genderfluid, bisexual with male preference.

I always have a poker face. Those who know me for the first time describe me as cold, quiet, scary and distant. I'm only close to two or three people. They describe me as cold, soft inside, calm, resourceful and knowledgeable. They say I make clever jokes and I'm the mom-friend. And i hate phsyical touch. My love language is words of affirmation. And I'm a switch in a relationship.

If I talk about myself, I've always been on my own. I have family problems, I was never close with my father. Even though we are side by side with my mother, we are distant. I'm just my own mom and dad. That's why I've always focused on academic achievement for salvation. And I think I'm very good at it.

My hobbies are drawing, sewing, writing and researching, especially about mythology, cultures, history, fashion. I always wear my headphones and listen to music.

I like silence, soft colors, being alone, flowers (especially honeysuckle), spring and breeze.

I don't like crowds, noise, children, loud talkers and shiny things.

I always wear colorful clothes with floral prints. I also wear interesting earrings and different printed socks.

And finally, I don't really have an ideal type. I love every person. I like the fact that there are different people.

-💐"

I hope you're doing well as well! Here you go!

While I usually pair people with someone who has a key trait that they share- this seems a bit too perfect.

I absolutely knew IMMEDIATELY who you'd be best paired with!

Shoto Todoroki!

You and Shoto have a lot in common! Shoto is someone who, while naive, would make a great partner- especially when paired with you.

You both have very similar family situations, and similar personalities (at least in the sense of how people see you).

He's very calm- so you wouldn't have to worry about loud noises or loud talking - he's very intelligent and knowledgeable when it comes to planning so he'd be able to talk and listen to you about what your recently learning about / researching- and help you further your research.

I also see that Todoroki would initially not be one for physical touch too, however - once he gets closer with you he'd love pinky holding as the main (and probably only) source of contact.

He would love to pamper you using his money to buy you cool earrings and all sorts of shirts and clothes.

One of the last few reasons, is that you don't care about appearance - you wouldn't make a deal out of his (literal and figurative) scarring- and you words of affirmation towards him would have him head over heels.

Shoto tends to be rather sleepy, so you usually have sleeping or nap dates!

#hope you enjoy!!#character matchup #MHA #shoto todoroki #Romantic matchup

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shiroselia · 2 years

Text

Because I’m so fucking particular about my horse game horse purchasing have some rambling about horse breeds and my purchasing plans on both my main and alt because it’s nice to write it down (because if I write stuff down I can get the idea clearely laid out) and maybe people are curious and I just love peepoTalking :3

Also yeah this is long, as everything is whenever I decide to ramble about the horse game and my excessive plans, also as per usual if I dislike a horse you like good for you have a cookie I’m glad someone likes it

Main:

Breeds/Horses I Will Buy:

Icelandic (Will purchase it next week even, white app horse, good stuff, very cute, much floof)

Paso Fino (Will as it looks now be purchased in October, absolutely beloved we stan the Paso Fino in this house, the white one as well, because it’s actually the prettiest coat in the game I will fight you on this)

Gotland (Two of them will be bought in what seems to be August right now, it’s cute I like it, I bought a Gotland a few days ago on my alt and I am In Love finally I can have a cute pony breed that I like to nyoom around on it’s So Friendshaped, beloved)

Arabian (Listen I will buy the gray one some time sooner or later it’s not its fault that I don’t care about it That much and that SSE keeps releasing breeds that are a higher priority, a lot of horses I ended up loving have been the resident sacrificial push-back it doesn’t mean anything it’s just the one I’m the least excited about right now, but it’s cute and it grew on me so good for it)

Haflinger (Darkest Haflinger I love you you are most likely the honourary December horse right now, because you’re cute, and I like you, and the Gen 3 Haflinger did a Lot of things right)

Breeds/Horses I’m Unsure About:

Paint (I’ve realized I really do actually like the gray speckled one, but I require a sale, otherwise it’s a Square no, the animations are good and I love the one-braid mane, I just wish it had a little less white on it)

Knabstrupper (Most ??? breed ever, I don’t inherently dislike it per say but I always find some fault in it that stops me from buying it)

Jorvik Pony (Listen, I already have three of them, yes, but the gray and white ones are really cute and I’ve been eyeing them for like a good handful of years by now, but they’re Such low priority because other breeds just keep getting in the way because my Jorvik Ponies are above all else stable accessories, they are Very cute tho)

Specifically Shadowshield (The Arabian I actually am planning on buying is the current sacrificial push-back horse, so I definitely Do Not prioritize that breed, and I’m not even sure if it’s worth buying two of them when I don’t even care about the guarantee in the first place, but the regular coat is Extremely cool, and y’know, every single other magic I’ll buy/have bought have been purchased Entirerly based on their regular coat so that doesn’t really matter, I just have a hard time figuring out how much I realistically want it, because it sure is cool, but is it worth 950 star coins in the year of our lord 2022?)

Friesian (*Loud sobbing noises* SSE I beg of you change their fucking animations I know for a fact you want to change them get to it instead of changing perfectly fine animations like the fucking North Swedish(???) and get this mane to behave like gravity exists the brown one is super cool I need you guys to do me a solid here Please I will literally Swish you Real Money)

Breeds/Horses I Won’t Touch With a 10m Stick: (For my main, horses I just Do Not want on either of my accounts)

Chincoteague (Give it up for my least favourite breed in the game, folks!!! It’s just not cute. It’s like the horse embodiment of | I can’t really explain why I dislike it so much because it’s a very specific thing that bothers me with it but it’s just not cute in any way shape or form and I don’t like a single colour and it’s a pony breed so it’s already fighting for its life in my opinion brawl, like, it’s just hard being a Chincoteague y’know)

Akhal-Teke (It’s perfectly fine I just don’t like it enough to get it, it’s cool I promise, just not a horse I’d spend star coins on y’feel)

Quarter (I prefer my horse game horses plastic free thank you, okay but seriously I don’t really know why it’s just not really my thing, the app colour is kinda cool but I’m very unsure about the animations too and I just don’t know if it’s a horse I could spend full price on with good conscience, like, y’know, it’s like that thing when you stare at a word for too long and you start thinking that the word is fake, like that but with “Do I actually like you or am I just desperatly trying to”, either way, nah)

Welsh (After thinking for a day I realized that I don’t like my horse game horses looking like dolls either, okay but really I just think the eyes are too big and I already have a bit of a :/ attitude towards the pony breeds because I’m not a huge smaller horse fan and the Welsh is in a very similar spot to the Chincoteague, it’s just. way too petite, especially isn’t helped by the eyes being So pronounced, I swear if they were like 2 pixels smaller they’d be Fine, I do have a colour I like on it tho, the isabelle, so if I ever find myself being fine with the model itself maybe I’ll buy one, but for now, no thanks)

Alt:

Breeds/Horses I Will Buy:

Ayla (I’ve been sitting here for almost a year now waiting for Ayla to return so that I can get a magic horse and an Andalusian for my alt because this is the only one I actually like that isn’t already purchased on my alt)

Appaloosa (I love this breed with my Entire heart and soul, and I’m buying the black blanket as soon as I can get away with it I love it so so much, absolutely beloved breed)

Now give it up for the lightning round of “I’ll buy you as soon as I come up with a name that doesn’t make my bilingual ass want to punch someone!!!”

Icelandic (Dark Brown/Sunbleached)

Marwari (Black)

Trakhener (Seal Brown)

Paso Fino (Dark Brown)

Haflinger (The Lightest One)

Breeds/Horses I’m Unsure About:

Clydesdale (I Really want a Clydesdale on my alt, but I’m not entirerly sure if I want the one colour left I could consider buying, so we’ll see)

North Swedish (Also a very beloved breed, but the newer animations are not entirerly to my taste, atleast compared to the old ones, and it’s the good ol’ colour issue again)

Finnhorse (There’s a colour I’d consider, but I don’t know if I like it enough to get it, I love the breed itself, but other than the sunbleached one I’m very unsure about the other coats)

Breeds/Horses I Won’t Touch With a 10m Stick: (Not necessarily horses I dislike, because it might just be a lack of good colours left over when it comes to my alt)

All the ones already off-limit on my main, because duh, if you’re ported from my main you’re blacklisted on my alt

Irish Cob (Listen, I absolutely Adore the Irish Cob and it’s a great Gen 3 but there’s just no cool colours left, both of the good ones, gray and white, went to my main what can I say, there’s just none of them left over)

Fjord (Give it up for even more “No cool colours left”! And even if I like the Fjord it isn’t exactly my first pick of Gen 3)

Lusitano (I like the Lusitano a lot, but I have three of them on my main and it shows, because my alt is staying Lusitanoless)

Arabian? (I severely doubt I’ll find another Arabian that I’ll like that isn’t already going on my main, and if I ditch Shadowshield on my main I’ll do so on my alt as well, most likely)

Connemara (Give it up for the One Gen 3 I’ve very seriously considered selling on my main, it’s not going on my alt I think it’s Very outdated by Gen 3 standards)

#Horse game ramblings whohoi #If I forgot a breed there's two possibilities #I either already own it and therefore don't need to mention it #Or I missed it and if so then L I guess

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