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glacialswordsman · 3 months ago

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ᴛᴀɢ ᴅᴜᴍᴘ 𝟏 / ?

☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ behind the scenes. ⊰ ooc ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ on stage. ⊰ ic ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ beneath the mask. ⊰ headcanons ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ fanmail. ⊰ answered asks ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ pass the script. ⊰ ask prompt ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ shine the spotlight. ⊰ promo ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ intermission. ⊰ queue ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ character study. ⊰ musings ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ afterpiece. ⊰ dash games ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ between engagements. ⊰ dash commentary ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ break character. ⊰ crack ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ center of interest. ⊰ self-promo ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ cinematography. ⊰ video ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ artistic director. ⊰ my art ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ expository scene. ⊰ closed starter ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ curtain time. ⊰ thread ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ curtain call. ⊰ thread end ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ death at the box office. ⊰ dni ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ dramaturgy. ⊰ aesthetic ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ encore. ⊰ music ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ aesthetic distance. ⊰ wip ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ mise-en-scène. ⊰ art ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ improvisation. ⊰ open starter ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ melpomene. ⊰ introspection ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ dressing room. ⊰ visage ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ soliloquy. ⊰ one-shot ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ public address system. ⊰ psa ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ theater program. ⊰ pinned ⊱ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ slapstick. ⊰ meme ⊱

☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⸺ callbacks. ⊰ saved ⊱

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alwaysme · 10 months ago

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Ive received fanmail today not sure from who though

#fan mail address #fanmail

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mikethefanboy · 2 years ago

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TTM Tues! Successes From The Stars Of Police Academy! Vacation! Star Trek: Picard! And More!

Hey autograph collectors! I hope your Thanksgiving holiday was festive and filling! One of my favorite ways to get autographs is through live venues celebs are playing at. For instance, Constance Wu is someone I have wanted for a while, but she is notoriously difficult to get. She was in a play recently, and signed for me TTM. Same with Tim Allen, Jon Lovitz, Angelica Ross, and a TON more. If you…

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#fanmail #Fanmail addresses #Rare #steve guttenburg autograph #steve guttenburg fanmail #ttm

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mytheoristavenue · 6 months ago

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Being the Secretary for T, T, & T Hero Agency

You had only been working at the combined agency of Tsukuyomi, Tentacole, and Tail-Man for nearly a month at this point and being one of their only employees apart from themselves, you definitely had your work cut out for you.

All three of them had their quirks, but thankfully, you were beginning to figure them out. For example, they all liked to have coffee when the got into the office, and expected you to have it ready when they arrived.

Tail-Man took his coffee blonde with extra hazelnut creamer. Tentacole took his mostly plain, with milk and a bit of sugar. And lastly, Tsukuyomi took his entirely black, and in large quantities.

-----

"Good Morning, Miss (L/N)," Tail-Man would greet, always coming through the door first. "How are you this morning?"

"I'm good, sir, thank you!" you'd respond with a kind smile. "Your coffee is read on your desk and there's muffins in the break room." You'd nod as he thanked you. "Oh, and I set your mail on your desk beside your mug! You've got some fan mail to answer, and you have a meeting with the owner of a local junior league dojo at ten. They'd like you to visit their class later this week!"

"Thanks for the heads up," he'd grin waving sheepishly, headin'g to his office "Go ahead and send 'em in when they get here."

"Yes, sir!"

Nearly every single day, when Tail-Man would leave you to go to his office, Tentacole would stride in, quiet, but typically in a rather cheerful mood.

"Good morning, sir," You'd smile, watching him wave back.

"Any appointments today?" he'd ask, stopping by your desk on his way in.

"None for you today, but you all have a meeting tomorrow morning with the Hero's Association." You'd answer, handing him a stack of envelopes. "Here's your mail for today. You're starting to gain popularity, it seems. Lots of fanmail today."

He'd always simply wave off your flattery, quickly changing the subject. "Coffee?" He'd ask sheepishly.

"On your desk, muffins in the break room."

He'd give you a warm, yet concealed smile. "You're the best,"

"I know."

At that time, Tsukuyomi would enter, moody and dramatic as always. He didn't tend to stop in to talk with you, normally nodding in passing but today was different for some reason. He walked right up to you, looking down on your sternly.

"Cancel my appointments, hold my calls." He commanded firmly. "Please." It was almost as if the last bit was obligatory, something he'd forgotten he had to say.

You simply nodded. "Done, everything's on your desk, muffins in the breakroom." You said with a calm smile, knowing he liked interactions short and sweet. "Have a good day, sir."

The way you addressed him made his feathers puff up and he eyed you as a hawk would a mouse. "See me later, my office."

His tone was demanding and made you worry you might be in trouble. For what, you weren't sure. The other two heroes seemed to adore you as their secretary, surely Tsukuyomi couldn't make the decision to fire you alone...

Could he?

#mha #mha x reader #tsukuyomi #tsukuyomi x reader #tokoyami x reader #tokoyami fumikage #fumikage x reader #ojiro mashirao #ojiro x reader #mashirao ojiro x reader #shoji mezo #mezo shoji #mezo shoji x reader #shoji x reader

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rosekasa · 8 months ago

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whenever adrien gets sad, he writes random letters to ladybug that he knows he's never going to send her. he just likes the feeling of being able to talk to her about things, about his father, about his mother, about modelling, about his self esteem, and since he'd never have the bravery to reach for that comfort in person, writing it on paper is the next best thing. they become almost like a diary over the years.

flash forward to when they're older, post reveal, and getting ready to move in together. marinette is sorting through some boxes and finds a bundle of pages addressed to ladybug. at first she thinks its fanmail she forgot about, but as she begins to read she realises just how much her chaton had gone through all on his own, just how much he wanted her to be there for him but didn't know how to ask.

he doesn't mention it to adrien afterwards. but she cuddles him noticeably tighter that night when they go to bed.

#miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #adrienette #tagged:ladynoir #tagged:adrienette #♡alizeh talks♡

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m1d-45 · 1 year ago

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I just used all my saved primogems on wanderer's banner and he still didnt come home 😭

Can I request a small sagau fic about him for comfort

rest

word count: ~1k

-> warnings: dialogue heavy reader, no spoilers though

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

your door was creaky. another thing to fix.

“why are you awake?”

but at least your wanderer was back.

you sit up from where you’re laying on the couch, taking a breath to clear your expression before turning to watch him come in. he shuts the door quietly despite the permanently sour look on his face, taking off his hat.

“welcome back. how was school?”

he made a face and you laughed, waving him over to join you. though he did walk closer, he merely crossed his arms and stood at the end of the couch. still, his voice wasn’t nearly as harsh as it could have been, “why do you insist on saying it like that?”

“the akademiya is a school, right?”

he stares, and you smile. it’s clear he doesn’t have an argument.

“i’m a professor.”

“you’re still going to school.”

“why are you upset?”

your smile slips. were you that transparent? “nothing for you to worry about. uh, you said you would be collecting draft essays today, right? how’d that go?”

his face shifts, softening just slightly around the edges. his hands fall, one propping on his side instead. “don’t change the subject.”

you could make a joke, but you’re too tired to try. the brief banter had given you some energy, but now…

you sigh, looking down to the discarded papers on the coffee table. letters, mostly, but a few diagrams you were supposed to look over. plans for a festival, a new shrine (how many did teyvat need?), the nth invitation to a lunch or event or whatever was going on that hour. you were honestly getting a headache before he showed up, and that wasn’t even addressing the other issues not on paper. “even gods can’t escape paperwork.”

he pulls all the papers—there’s a few not even taken from their envelopes yet, how did that happen—into a pile near the edge of the table, then sits beside you. he picks up a paper and skims it, then puts it to the side. “why are you handling this? shouldn’t someone else?”

you lean on his shoulder, watching as he begins to sort all the papers into two piles. you can’t pick out whatever pattern he’s using: some he lingers on for a few seconds, some he tosses in an instant. “they were addressed to me.”

“so? you don’t have to personally respond to every piece of fanmail.” he tosses one envelope into the second, larger pile with more force than the others. “it’s ridiculous. you should know better than to try and do all of this yourself.”

he’s probably right. as prickly as he can be, nine out of ten he at least had a good idea on how to approach an issue. he’d even clocked that you were stressed despite the fact that there was no was he could have seen your expression from the door.. though that may have something to do with your inability to hide your exhaustion when you turned.

“there.” he sets a final paper in the first, much smaller pile, then taps it into a neater stack. “this are the things that actually require your attention. don’t waste your time with things that don’t matter.”

“what about the other pile?”

“they don’t matter.”

“that’s rude.”

“it’s true. i can tell you’re tired already-“ damn, you didn’t want to worry him “-and i can guarantee most problems people have faced you with are better handled by others.”

“dear…”

“i’m serious.” he picks up the larger second pile, arranging them into a neater stack. “what do you have to do? name them.”

“theres a merchant in liyue-“

“that can be handled by the ministry of civil affairs.” he sets the pile down, leaning back. “what else?”

“an outbreak in mondstat-“

“knights of favonius’ problem.”

“a few rogues in sumeru have been defacing my statues.”

he paused, and you adjusted your position, leaning your back against him instead. he lifted his arm and put it across your chest, and when he spoke it was much softer. “still better handled by the mahamatra. if you aren’t directly involved, there’s no need to worry about them.”

“but they’re asking for help…”

“they’re asking the wrong person. trust me, you’re above them and their petty squabbles. in fact.. you should take a nap.”

“what?”

he moved toward the end of the couch, laying your head in his lap. “take a nap. or just lie down, i don’t care. relax for a bit. these people have given you too much stress already, it’s better if you didn’t waste any more energy on them.”

he was looking away, still obviously trying to keep up the image of indifference, but you could still spot the cracks. his hand still stayed on your shoulder, tracing random shapes across your shirt, and he didn’t say anything snarky when you put your own hand over his.

he cared for you, just as you cared for him. he cared enough that he’d remind you not to worry about unnecessary things, that he’d physically put himself between you and whatever problem the world demanded you face, even though on the surface it wouldn’t seem like he viewed you with anything less than distaste.

well, to others it was a conundrum. to you it was pretty clear, as who else would he sit with like this? he regularly ranted on about those who attended his lectures, still dismissed the words of mahamatra, still ignored most other authorities save for possibly nahida. but for you, he’d sort through your paperwork and have you sleep where he could ensure you did… he was sweet like that.

you smiled. “you’re adorable.”

“i am not.”

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therealslimshakespeare · 9 months ago

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Dear John || Tell me you didn’t

Dear John || Masters of the Air fanfiction

Series Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways, tucked up in luxury in Beverly Hills with carts of tedious fanmail burned in her back yard each day, his letter will get lost in the mix. It’s harmless. That thought -and the booze- may loosen his pen a little too much but it’s alright, it’s not like she’ll read it. Right? Right.

Circa: August 1943

Plot: Gale Cleven learns that not only did his best friend send dubious fanmail while blind drunk, he seems to have singled out with his indomitable luck the one starlet of the silver screen capable of matching his depravity

Warnings: 18+ for suggestive and crass content, it’s pretty much two boys acting like a couple of girls at a sleepover deciphering a dirty text from one’s crush

My thanks to my baby Bri for literally being the brains behind the plot and for Christi for assuring me this ain’t trash. We shall if y’all share those sentiments…

The referenced letter link 💌

“Tell me you didn’t.” Gale managed to keep his tone calm but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit his fingertips had gone a little chilly.

“I-“ Egan threw his arms out as if a better truth might form with a little more gesticulation but nothing came, “I did, Buck.” he admitted.

“You wrote it blind drunk.” Gale reminded him with urgency, as if the reminder of its ill calculated circumstances could snatch back his letter from out of Lana Tierney’s posh mailbox.

“I did!” He agreed, “-And I sent it blind drunk. And I never thought she’d read it.”

“I saw you eat it!” Cleven’s voice was growing angry, “I made you-“

“That may have been a botched first draft to Donny’s folks instead.” Egan winced.

Both of them lapsed again into silence, staring warily at the unopened and daintily addressed envelope in Egan’s hand like it might explode at any moment.

“You sonuvabitch.” Gale breathed, two frantic pink splotches appearing on his cherub cheeked face, judgment and disbelief making a whirlpool of his eyes. “Can’t leave you alone for a minute. What all did you even say?”

“I didn’t tell her about ACORN!” John vowed like a child swearing to their sibling regarding secrets kept from mother, “I mean, i called her that but I didn’t explai-“

“-John!”

“-and I said a lotta nice things too, I think, but, I also-“ Egan scrunched his eyes up as if to either better recall or maybe banish entirely all memory of his sentiments, “-I may have mentioned wanting to give her children.”

“JOHN!”

“It can’t have been that bad, she wrote back!” Egan defended with wounded hope, holding up his still sealed prize. “Buck, swear to God, I never thought she’d read it.”

Gale slumped down next to him on the bed as if the ordeal in voyeuristic stupidity had taken something out of him. “Maybe she didn’t.” he suggested grimly. “Maybe it’s from her attorney tellin’ you to never contact her again.”

He was enjoying ruining this moment a little too much, and now Egan was growing angry he had waited to open it until confiding in his friend. Not a little anxious, and not a little smug, Egan flipped the envelope over, ready to tear its flap. That’s when he saw the kiss print. “Ha!” he barked, flipping it back up and shoving it directly in front of Gale’s crossing eyes, “Do lawyers leave lip prints?” he questioned cockily and when Gale pulled far enough away to ascertain for himself, he gave a conceding nod.

“Huh.”

“Yeah, huh.” John goaded but his heart beat a crazy and skittish rhythm as he slipped his finger inside the fold and tore at the slip.

Lovely, scented, gold embossed stationery came into view, it made Egan question how well he had washed his hands the paper was so white and pristine.

“Well?” Gale kept to a respectful distance of half a foot away from his friend on the bed, and being a good sort of man, he was not snooping or side eyeing private correspondence.

“Uh, yeah, right.” Bucky rallied himself and unfolded the missive fully, forcing his eyes to focus on deciphering charming, school girl cursive. “Get over here, Buck.” he griped at last as it was hopeless to make headway between his own nerves and Cleven’s hovering presence.

Gale didn’t move and Bucky didn’t expect him to so he scooted over herself, smashing him on the edge and held the letter out as they both leaned in.

“Dear John, -I’m sorry Major Egan, I just had to.”

“Oh shit.” Bucky swore in realization.

“She’s funny.” Gale’s tone was ever so mild.

“Nah she’s, Buck, she’s quoting me back to me I told her -nevermind, let’s see-“

They peered back at the letter together, Cleven more invested that he’d ever admit and Bucky’s heart doing the oddest little flips at the realization that someone gave enough of a damn to write this sorta thing back to him.

“Heartfelt.” Gale murmured her choice of words for Bucky’s letter aloud with something close to relief, only to be then followed by a groan- “you did not write the word ‘knockers’ in a letter to a woman!”

“You're right, you’re right,” Egan ducked his head, repentant, he wouldn’t have been the least surprised if he got a wallop from Cleven for it, “awful of me. I admitted it even then. She admits it. Let’s move on.”

“RACK!” Cleven growled moments later in growing disbelief. “Jesus, John.”

“Oh don’t act better than all of it, you know she’s got the best melons out there-“

“-you’re the one who felt compelled to write a nice young lady and tell her as much.” Buck stabbed an accusatory finger dangerously close to Egan’s nose, “And used vulgarities while at it.”

Egan gave a defensive shrug and began his reading anew. “She said she’s fizzing…over making babies.” he whispered, “With me.” John was awed and this time Cleven had no rebuttal, just ever growing wonderment on his ever reddening face. “And she says here, look! she says you’re a bad boy for breaking us up that night! HA!”

“She’s being polite Bucky,” Gale cautioned, worried at where this surge of confidence might lead, “she didn’t admit to remembering a bit of it. They send girls to school to let fellas like you down easy.”

“Aww, now she says to give ya a kiss.” Egan cooed, saccharine and wicked, “See, she’s so nice and you’re the one who’s awful, doubting her like that. She says to give ya one if you’re the sort to take it well, are ya Buck, huh? Are you? Huh?”

“No, no! Jesus, get off me!” Cleven exerted every bit of his wiry strength to lug off the sudden onslaught of Egan’s heavy embrace as they folded together back onto the bed, John’s mouth making sickening smooching noises against Cleven’s baby smooth cheek, mustache a foreign and terrifying tickle on his jaw. “Get the hell off me, what is wrong with you?”

“I’m riled, just like her, that’s what’s wrong.” Egan replied vehemently, pulling his face away but keeping a perturbed Buck beneath his greater weight. “And maybe one day you’ll know what that feels like, Goldilocks. See, says right here: *I can feel my pulse somewhere besides my wrists* Do you hear that?” He demanded, still holding the letter aloft as Gale looked up at him with the sort of patience people reserve for lunatics liable to murder them at the least hint of movement. “I’ve made her horny.” he spelled it out and Gale’s face somehow flushed an even deeper shade of scarlet. “She wants to know what acorn means.”

“Don’t you ever tell her.” Gale warned.

“Why not?”

“It’s not even a good acronym, it’s misspelled and missing a whole word.”

“She wants it to be ‘salacious’ -says so herself.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.” Bucky flipped the letter over for Gale to see and judging by the panic in his eyes he caught more lines than that one alone.

“Jesus.” he repeated, it was starting to sound like a genuine beg for divine intervention. “Get off me.”

That itching physical impulse to roughhouse remained but Egan obligingly rolled to the side, aware Buck didn’t have what would cure his own riled self. “She says she enclosed something for the morale, said to keep it safe. But there’s not anything else. You see anything else?”

“I don’t.” Buck sounded worn down but he made an effort to look around amongst the sheets.

“Julia Jean.” Egan pondered, “Says that’s her real name.”

“Yeah, well, maybe now you can stop calling her acorn every damn time she comes on screen.”

“Don’t count on it.” Egan grinned back.

“Maybe it’s still in the envelope.” Gale suggested, tentatively picking up the air mail slip and handing it to Bucky.

Egan sat up and shook the paper between them, wondering if it was really something worth hiding from the censors like some OSS spy shit. A couple of shakes and sure enough, some slippery little card shaped thing fluttered out of a crease and wafted to the ground, settling between Buck’s boots. John’s stoic young friend bent over and retrieved it, but not without his entire spine stiffening like he’d been hit as soon as he’d caught it.

“Jesus.” it was more of a wheeze this time. Gale’s slow hand raised it and passed it over.

There wasn’t anything to say, not when confronted with such perfection. Not even a shielding arm to cheat him of the whole display, nothin’ at all but a carefully cropped photograph of the ripest pair of-

“Goddamn.” John’s tongue finally materialized a sentiment and he heard Gale’s appreciative sharp intake of breath beside him as if he’d forgotten to breathe here lately. “They’re wonderful.”

“Yeah.” Gale’s own throat sounded dry as dust, “W-we should probably stop starin’.”

“Whadda ya think she sent ‘em for?” John laughed, a rough, victorious laugh, never once dragging his admiring eyes away from them or ceasing to thumb over the shiny print. He could almost feel her warm, giving flesh under the pad of his finger, could almost imagine the pebble of a rosy nipple responding to his swipes.

“Yeah, they’re alright-“

“Alright? Alright!?” Egan repeated, incensed for his beloved’s reputation, “THESE ARE THE BEST TITS IN THE NATION!”

Gale actually looked mildly chastened, especially as his eyes strayed guiltily back to the photograph like twin marbles gravitating to the corner of a box when tipped.

“I know you haven’t seen many, Buck,” Egan goaded him further, “but take it from me -they don’t get better than this. And you better enjoy this look, it’s your last, she told me to keep them safe. So see this? These? This pair? S’why we fight, Buck.”

“Don’t be crass, John,” Gale stood up abruptly, less angry at his friend than at himself for his momentary lapse of discipline, “we fight for the people we love.”

“Course we do,” John grinned, “but I also happen to love these, told her so myself.”

“You didn’t-“

“I did.” Bucky was pretty chuffed, bouncing on the edge of the bed like he had her seated in his lap right now, “Everybody’s got to have a goal, Buck, you wanna marry Marj and I wanna aggressively come on ripe knock-“

“-A.C.O.R.N. yeah, yeah.”

“Acorn.” Bucky grinned in agreement.

“You gonna admit to her you didn’t know knockers was spelled with a k?”

“I did, too! Just couldn’t make it work.”

“Still doesn't work.” Buck informed, but his smile was returning, he’d not been this close with Bucky for this long not to learn to roll with the differences and appreciate that what made his best friend tick was a very different sort of morale than his own. “I’m happy for ya, John.” he conceded, as he turned to leave, “But when you write her back -and you gotta, she’s been too kind -promise me you’ll be a gentleman about it. Apologize, like the man I know you are. Drink got the better of you, just, explain it that way.”

“Uhuh.” John gave him a sober nod, still a little dazed this wasn’t some fever dream. “Kinda already did. In the one I sent.”

“She wasn’t deterred.” Gale mused, “Either you were shit at it or she’s-“

“Zesty.” Egan deduced, sucking his teeth with a manic gleam in his eye.

“Yeah, as an orange peel.” Gale snarked and walked away, past the rows of empty beds and outside into the rain, “I’ll leave you to it.”

Bucky fell back against his mattress, sudden peace and aloneness giving him a chance to soak it in a second time, carefully reading over it all again, savoring each quip, each earnest prayer and naughty subtext. Which naturally led him back to admiring her little picture, groaning in unrestrained appreciation for her assets. She’d hinted about him taking it to his bunk -well wasn’t he fast to obey! Something possessed him to flip it over and there in the corner of the photograph, written in tiny little script, were doodles of music notes along with the ever so familiar lyrics:

“Beat me daddy, eight to the bar.”

John threw back his head and let out a roar of appreciation for finding a mirrored soul. “Oh Julie Jean, honey baby, don’t you worry, I’ll beat out somethin’ for ya, that’s for sure.”

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank y’all for reading, hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s life blood, please scream at me, I thrive off it. 💋

Taglist (Lemme know in a comment below if you’d like to be added or subtracted for MOTA fics)

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

@storysimp

@javden

@sexualparkour

@jointherebellion215

@sunny747

@ask-you-what-sir

@xxanaduwrites

@pretty4u

@yorkshirekiwi

@waitedforlove743

#mota fanfic #masters of the air #john egan x oc #dear John #john egan #bucky egan #bucky egan x oc #callum turner

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themratts · 4 months ago

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A Surprise For Papa

[ A mysterious 'gift' arrives at the ministry, addressed to Copia, and he's not quite sure what to make of it ]

Rating: Teens and Up (May be subject to change)

Chapter One • Delivery (word count : 2.3K)

—— 🍼

It was easy enough for Papa to get into the zone when it came to his ministry work. Despite how tedious and time consuming it could often be, by now, at his age, he was more than familiar with the grind and it came simply enough to him every day.

He’d sit, at his usual deskspace with his usual documents and reports and church budgets and he’d scribble away at them for as long as he had to. The trick was not to get knocked out of his focus once he was already in. That in itself, was the hard part. As he set his coffee mug down, three sturdy knocks met the door of his study, and when the Ghoul’s voice followed, Papa knew he was in for a long day.

“Hey,” Before Copia could even respond, the door was being opened and his eyes were greeted by the sleek and feisty figure of the fire ghoul. Dewdrop leaned against the doorframe, he told him, “Something’s here for you,”

“What?” That was odd. Not that things - fanmail, letters, whatever else - never came for him, but they were commonly delivered to his personal chambers. The odd part was the way Dew had shown up just to tell him about it, “Here for me?”

“Yeah.”

“What is it?” He asked but the ghoul only shrugged.

“Haven’t opened it. But it’s weird.”

Copia wasn’t sure if he was more curious, or worried. He turned in his chair now, papers forgotten for the moment. “Weird how?”

“Come and see for yourself,” As he left, Dewdrop flicked his tail and then it disappeared into the hallway. Papa knew he shouldn’t. He needed to stay, to get things done. Yet, he couldn’t help the urge to follow him. As if something was pulling him from his chair. Copia rose to his feet, and made his way after the ghoul in the distance.

He led him through the hall and down the main staircase. Before turning, and gearing them into the ghoul livingspace. A widened room with separate halls that would lead to ghoul dormitories, but the open area served as a nice space for them to hang out. Ahead, Papa could see two ghouls crowded around a small table. And when he got closer, he recognized them to be Aether and Swiss. Aether was especially close to whatever was on the table, nose twitching when he sniffed so curiously. Dew stepped to the side, hands on his hips.

“Guys, move.”

The other ghouls looked up, and backed away when Copia approached. Now that he could see what they were looking at, he was even more weirded out. A basket, it looked like, covered by a lumpy, stuffed-in sheet with a single folded piece of paper sat atop. A note, it looked like. It simply read “Papa” on the front. Copia’s brows furrowed, creasing the paint on his forehead. He looked at the mysterious package, to his ghouls, and then back down.

“Where did you get this?”

“It was left at the gate this morning,” Swiss answered, crossing his legs where he sat on the other side of the table.

“The gate?” Copia almost laughed, “This isn’t a prank, is it?”

“Nope,” and Dew shoved his clawed hands into his pockets, “Although that’d be hilarious.”

On the other side of Papa, Aether was taking another step back. He shook his head and crossed his arms, “It smells so strange,” He noted, tilting his head, “You should open it.”

“It smells strange? What does it smell like?”

All three ghouls exchanged a look. A hard to read expression, but it was enough to creep Copia out. He shivered, and when none of them answered, he reached instead for the note that was laid atop the blanket. It was written in unfamiliar handwriting, on thin, ordinary lined paper. He scanned the front and the back, before flipping it open. In big letters on the inside, the words read,

“Your problem now.”

Disturbing. A deeper confusion coursed through him and Papa turned back to his ghouls, “you are sure this isn’t a prank?”

“Not a chance,” Dew raised his hands innocently. Feeling defeated , Copia once again forced his attention back to the basket. He was almost scared to open it. He felt a pressure in his chest, an uneasiness. The circumstances were just so weird. But what choice did he really have?

“Alright,” He sighed. And Copia let his gloved fingers grace the edge of the basket. He hovered there for a second, before moving again. And when he did, he jumped backwards. Something inside the basket had moved, too. “Wh-what the hell!?”

“Dude,” Dew pushed him forward, “Open it!”

“What is it!?”

“We don’t know any more than you do.” A blatant lie.

Papa grumbled. He went to push and rub at his temples but halted when he remembered his face paint. He had to resort to a groan instead.

The thought that whatever was in the basket was alive was both alarming and very concerning. His hand crept forward to the blanket again, as he decided not to waste anymore time in getting to the bottom of it. Carefully, he removed the sides from their tucked position, and lifted the blanket from the basket.

It was barely in his hand for a second before he’d dropped it in shock. Papa gasped, stumbling backward and letting his mouth drop open. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to be inside- but it definitely wasn’t that. A tiny, wrapped up, sleeping little baby.

“What-what the fuck!?” He yelled , slapping his hand to his head. Way, way too startled to care about his paint anymore, “what.. what!!?”

The ghouls were looking at each other, but none of them seemed as surprised. They’d known, of course, what was in there the whole time- from the moment they’d picked it up, the sound of the infant’s heartbeat had been a giveaway.

Copia spun around to them, “what is the goddamn meaning of this!?”

But Dew shrugged, “I feel like we should be asking you that,”

“che cazzo vuoi dire!?”

“I mean, it’s pretty obvious,”

“No it isn’t!?”

“Well,” Swiss leaned forward on the table, “it must be yours.”

“My…..” Copia felt like he’d just hit a brick wall. His stomach absolutely dropped, and he stared blankly at the small baby in confusion and disbelief. “..it… n-no, it can’t be. It can’t be,”

“Why the hell else would it be here?”

“It-It’s not mine.”

“Dude-“

“It isn’t!” Stressed, Copia’s fingers raked through his hair, “It-It just can’t be!”

“Hey, Relax,” Aether placed a hand, soothingly to Copia’s back. Well, about as soothingly as pointed claws can manage, “we’ll figure this out,”

Inside the basket, all the commotion had begun to rouse the sleeping infant. Its hands grabbed weakly at the sheet it was swaddled in , eyes barely opening. Copia just watched. He could hardly breathe.

It… it couldn’t be….

..Could it?

Dew’s tail thumped against Copia’s leg, “why the fuck would someone leave you with their baby if it’s not yours?”

“Can you, please…” Papa groaned. He pulled a chair out from the table and slumped himself into it. “I need… to think for a minute. I just… oh my god…”

Swiss leaned a little closer. Nose angled toward the baby’s hair, “little thing’s super fresh too,” he said, then looked up, “what were you doing nine months ago? Or. I guess. Who?”

Copia remained slumped against the table. He shook his head, “how-how should I know..”

“Nine months ago… nine…” Aeth suddenly snapped his fingers, “We were still out on tour nine months ago,”

The realization settled in on all of them, and all three ghouls slowly turned their heads toward Papa. He was staring blankly at the table, unmoving, stiff as a board but the piercing red that painted his ears was a clear indication that he was in fact, still listening.

“..So, did you..?”

“-on tour?”

“I mean, that’s about right, but-”

“Please.” Copia groaned and leaned back in his chair. His head was pounding, even as he tried to think back to however many months ago, just entertaining the idea that this baby was somehow his had him shaken. What were the chances of this!? He felt… extremely unprepared. “Just… just let me breathe for one moment..”

The ghouls managed to silence themselves, and exchanged looks instead. They weren’t entirely sure how to feel, either. As humorous as it partially was, this was also a very, very serious deal. If this was, in fact, the child of an Emeritus.

The baby made a small, fussy noise and flexed its little hand again. Aether reached forward, allowing it to grab hold of his claw. He smiled, “Cute,”

“Do you think it came from on tour?” Dew asked, and leaned forward on the table beside Papa. The man was quiet for a second, mind running a mile a minute. It was moments until he answered. Quietly, palm against his forehead.

“It’s… it’s not impossible,” he groaned, “but-but unlikely, no? This wasn’t.. I mean, I..”

“I guess you’re a father now,” Dewdrop suddenly slapped him on the back, “Congratulations,”

“Fermare, we don’t know that,”

“There is literally no other reason this baby would be here right now,”

“You know, it’s addressed to ‘Papa’ and not to ‘Copia’, notice?” Aether pointed out, then. He picked the card up, and flipped it around on all sides, as if in search of a clue, “Maybe it came from someone inside the ministry? You know, a congregational member?”

Swiss shrugged, “Yeah, but on tour?”

“Those Sisters who come along and help out backstage?”

“Ohhhh,”

They both looked to Copia, awaiting an answer or reply but he just sat there, blank look on his face. His eyes descended toward the baby in the basket, who was looking at him now, too, and smiling. His heart felt a million things at once, “I can’t believe this..”

“What about a DNA test?” Aether suggested with a shrug, “You know, just to make sure.”

“Yes,” Papa swallowed. It was almost like the reality had started to settle in, and the longer he gazed upon the infant the realer it started to feel. Was it true? Was he really a father now? And if that were the case… who the hell was this baby’s mother?

He felt regret, fear and uncertainty. Guilt. Copia leaned forward, exhaling deeply and covering the upper part of his face with his already paint-stained gloves. He shook his head, mumbling something not quite audible. The ghouls looked at each other. And Dew took a step back, “I’m gonna go get Sister,”

“No,” Copia lifted his head, “Please, per favore, she cannot know about this!”

“What?” The ghoul let out an amused hiss, one of laughter, “You expect to hide an entire baby from her?” He could practically see Papa sweating.

“we-well… eh…”

“They’re gonna know about this one way or another.”

He knew they were right. Groaning again, Copia just shook his head and slumped back in the chair. He didn’t notice when Dewdrop turned and left the room, but even then, he didn’t care. His body felt numb, and he stared and stared at that little bundle on the table. How could something so small carry such a heavy weight of responsibility? He couldn’t even imagine what this would do to his schedule. To his… everything. Copia trembled.

“I.. I-I don’t know the first thing about taking care of a baby,” And Aether placed a hand on his shoulder, patting it there.

“It’s alright,” He did his best to comfort, “You’ll figure it out,”

“How could this have happened…” Papa shook his head, slowly. And when he turned, and looked up at the ghoul beside him, his eyes appeared damp, “How could I be such an idiot?”

“You aren’t an idiot,”

“The thought of..” He paused, and his lip quivered. Copia turned his head away, emotions hitting him somewhat suddenly. He told him, “...the thought of someone, someone carrying my child, while I am far away, with no idea, no way to care for her, to be there or to help… that breaks my heart,”

“Hey,” Aether continued to pat his shoulder, “Hey, It’s alright. And… besides. She seemed to know where you are, yeah? She left the baby here. So.. if she’d wanted you for anything, don’t you think she’d have reached out?”

Papa hung his head, low. The words weren’t nearly as comforting as they might’ve sounded. Whoever this woman was, she likely wanted nothing to do with him. Nor with the baby, apparently. The longer he thought about it, the sadder he became.

Copia rose from his seat. The baby gazed up at him, eyes wide and curious, and made a small babbling sound. The man sighed, “I don’t know. I don’t know.. where this came from, or what’s going on here, but. We certainly aren’t going to leave it here, and certainly not without a home.”

From the basket, he lifted the little baby, still wrapped and swaddled in its blankets. It was warm, precious, and when its little head lay against him he felt himself melt. He mumbled quietly, “You are certainly adorable..” And brought one finger up to let it grab. The baby giggled, gently when it did and Copia couldn’t fight his smile. “I wonder if you have a name,”

“I guess you’ll pick the name,”

“I guess…” Papa sighed. He only watched, still and mesmerized by the tiny being in his arms, how sweet and sound, and resting on the possibility that this baby was his own. He just couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t. It had been so quick, so sudden. And yet.. after only ten seconds in his arms, Copia knew. If this baby was his… if it was really true. He wouldn’t stop at anything to be the best, the best Papa that he could possibly be.

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