#astigmatism [thumbs up]

[heybobbygirl]

I hate trying to read with my glasses off because I can still see and I can make out the letters as long as their within 10 feet of my face but they're slightly blurry and it drives me insane because I can't do anything about it (except for put my glasses back on but they're usually obnoxiously far away)

[yunsbunnie]

fwb!jay who always wears his glasses around you because he knows how much you love watching your own reflection through the metal frame.

pairing : fwb!jay x fem!reader | warnings : finger sucking, smut, groping, riding | wc : 946 | note : might be my favourite one so far? there’s just something about jay w pretty glasses…

jay seemed to always find himself in the same situation, not that he was ever complaining. there was just something so captivating about the way your body reacted to yourself- the way your pleasure was almost dependent on the way you looked through another person's gaze.

that may be the very reason why he always comes running to you instead of the other girls you’ve heard about. if there was one thing that you’ve learned since you started hooking up with jay all those months ago was that your self confidence was what got him off- you just happened to feel the same way.

his lip was between his teeth as you continually bounced against his cock, your cunt sucking him in over and over again. it felt like you were made for him, his cock being the perfect size to hit all the right spots. 

jay pulled his hands away from you, arms bending at his elbows as he used one finger to push up his glasses. a smallc but inevitable, smirk caught on his lips as he watched your eyes follow the movement, noting the way your hands tensed by your side.

it wasn’t that Jay didn’t need his glasses, his eyesight actually being below average without them. But he tended to avoid wearing them, his irritation towards the lense stronger than his desire to actually see.

but when he was with you, they never seemed to leave his face. jay knew how much you loved his glasses, compliments always spilling from your lips as soon as you walked through the door. 

jay also happened to know the main reason behind your obsession. 

he noticed it after the first few times you made him keep them on, the way your eyes would remain glued to the metal frame. it was different than what he was used to, people always tending to be unable to look away from his glistening chest. 

but with you it was different, a difference that started jay's obsession with you.

he’d watch as you stared at yourself in the reflection, his dark eyes tracing your body as you moved sensually on top of him.

his head would fall back as he felt the way your hips sped up against him, the way your noises grew louder as your eyes locked onto the way you looked with your hands groping your own chest. 

“your glasses are really pretty.” You didn’t try hiding your ogling, your teeth gnawing on your body lip as your mind spiraled down a needy path of lust. you were unable to look away from your body, your curves highlighted by the bad lighting coming from jay’s desk.

you didn’t care too much about the way he looked, after all- he was nothing more than your accessory. he was there to make you look better, to feel better. 

“they’d be much prettier on you.” jay's voice came out barely above a whisper, the glasses sliding off his face as he inched his hands closer to you.

he gently took a hold of your chin, his other hand pushing his glasses onto your face. his hands moved to push your hair back as soon as they sat secure on the bridge of your nose. 

“i was right,” He leaned forward, his nose brushing yours as his thumbs smoothed down your hair, “so. fucking. beautiful.” his lips pressed kisses along your knuckles between every word.

his gaze moved from your confused one up to the spot yours was always drawn on. his reflection wasn’t as clear to his own eyes, his eyesight blurry with random rays of light due to his even worse astigmatism. 

but he now knew exactly why you loved it so much. he could see his entire body through the metal, his tensed stomach producing prominent shadows in a pleasant way. 

his eyes flickered to your darkening eyes once before he continued his kisses along your knuckles, the only difference was that his eyes were now attached to the way his lips looked whilst pressing against you. 

the smacks in his ear from the wet kisses made it all more real, he couldn’t stop. he then moved on to your fingertips, a delicate peck pressed against each one. 

he then did something that he’d only ever seen you do, he took your finger in his mouth. your jaw fell open at the unexpected action, your breath caught in your throat as his tongue swirled around your index finger. 

having been too focused on yourself you failed to notice the way he looked whilst getting pleasured, he truly was one of the most alluring people you’ve come across. 

you weren’t sure if the rapid beating of your heart was because of your sudden revelation- or because of the way he was making your core heat up. 

a wet sound, one that sounded eerily similar to the sound you make while sucking his cock, left his lips as he pulled back. the sound left a tingling feeling in his chest as he felt himself getting harder than before, his eyes meeting his own reflection once more before he pulled his glasses back on.

“will you let me make you feel good?” you didn’t need more than s glance at his rosy cheeks before you nodded your head, your back hitting the bed as you spread your legs for him.

even with him pushing your knees over his shoulder you still couldn’t shake the vision of him out of your head. and for the first time ever, you watched him instead of yourself- your finger pressed between your own lips as you mocked the motions his tongue made against you.  

[bbonnenuit]

The Smiths.

notes: chrollo is yandere, although the fic is lighthearted. the biggest warning is the fact that chrollo looks like he'd listen to the smiths /j, another bigger warning is that reader is an avid the smiths hater. im not tho, all for fun. female reader.

 “Daydreaming again, I see?”

   It would be a lie to say that Chrollo’s voice isn’t at the slightest bit pleasant to hear. It’s soft and smooth, but accompanied with a confident low timbre that you think might be the source of it’s charm. 

   You often wish you both don’t share a language to speak over, so whatever he speaks would be foreign yet pleasant gibberish in your ears. And maybe you’d be able to close your eyes and sleep. You’d be able to treat him as the background noise of some radio host talking about something as mundane as today’s newest dramas. 

  You don’t find the need to chase the impossible ideal this time. One doesn’t need to be a linguist expert in order to know no malice or warning is present in his voice, though one might need a bachelor’s degree and over four decades of experience in psychology to know he truly means nothing behind his calm demeanor. 

   You sign yourself to a fate you’re unsure of, and though it’s foolish, there’s nothing you can do anyway. You’re stuck with him, in a moving four-wheeled compartment, that’s also stuck in traffic. 

   “The music’s good.” Is all you say, and he hums in understanding. 

     Silence falls over the two of you again.

   You almost brought back the colorful reverie you were in before he decided to interject, until he reached for his phone to change the music. Oh, bluetooth, the convenient technology you are. His phone is located on the right of his steering wheel, far away from your reach. If he had reached for the audio system you would’ve been (maybe) able to slap his hand away. 

   “Hm, I’d rather you pay attention to me.” The lilt in his voice is unmistakable. And you almost gag, was that an attempt in flirting? Blegh.  

   “I’ll just stare at the cars,” Headlights and astigmatism can make a good duo, you remind yourself. 

   Chrollo hums again, You can almost laugh, so being stuck in your own daydreams and practically doing nothing is unacceptable, but staring at cars is alright? 

  You stare at a car, observing the way the light that emits from it’s headlights become blurry in your sights, they almost take shape of stars in your opinion. 

   So you set your sights on a particularly small black car in front of you, must be a Toyota or Avanza or something. You can’t tell, it’s got four wheels and headlights, so it’s a car. You could care less about what it is. That is why you weren’t all so interested when Chrollo took you a look into his….Rolls… Rolls what? Oh, right, Rolls Royce. It’s a fancy one, you can tell. He was exuding quite an air of importance when he was leading you towards the high-end vehicle located in the restaurant’s parking lot, there were some on-lookers around that spot that expressed interest at the car. It means something when even people of the middle-upper class are showing interest.

   Whatever ego that had probably swelled within Chrollo must’ve popped like a balloon, or so you hope, because you did nothing more than give him a thumbs up before letting yourself in the passenger’s seat. You also didn’t miss the way he was preparing to tell you about the car’s compartments and specialties that made it cost years of labor. Ah, you’re certain he didn’t gain this vehicle from labor, though. 

   Fancy car or not, everyone’s equally stuck in this traffic. 

   Fancy car or not, doesn’t determine that the song played inside the compartment is free from your judgment or not.

   “What song is this? You ask, although you know the answer. You somehow need an assurance that he is lucid. 

   “Please, please, please, by The Smiths.” He says, pleasant with his song of choice. 

   What an ironic song and artist of choice. 

    It’s harder to hide in a cackle than a scowl, you’d almost forgotten. Any voice you let out threatens to come out as sharp laughter and any breathe you intake threatens to become a wheeze. You could hardly contain yourself. 

   “Oh…” Is all you say before pausing, afraid anything else you will say will turn into a rowdy session of laughter. Unsure if you should speak further or not. But the inquisitive look he offers you somehow serves as a push rather than something that usually wants you to further seal your lips shut in fear you would say the wrong thing and earn his silent ire. It’s far, far harder to hide a cackle than a scowl, but months of training yourself to hide certain expressions whenever Chrollo is around has paid off. “What about Frank Sinatra?” 

 Chrollo smiles. Is he delighted that you find interest in one of his favorite artists? Though he’s never said it outloud, every long night drive has its silence filled with at least one Frank Sinatra song. 

   “Would you rather I change the song, dear?” He offers. And you would say yes, but this is one of the rare, rare moments where you are given the opportunity to take a jab at him. Although it’s nothing as deadly as anything a leader of the Phantom Troupe has faced, you won’t kill him or even hurt him for very long. But you are willing to do anything, at this point. 

   You feign the most pleasant voice you can muster, “Hm… That’s not really what I meant. I just didn’t think you’d listen to The Smiths.” 

   He lets out a small laugh, “Really? I have always listened to older songs around you, I suppose. I wouldn't say I like it… Hm, but it’s an interesting band.”

   So he does like it! 

   “Why do you think so?” You inquire further before adding, “Do you like this song a lot?”

   “Are you intending to interview me, (Name)?” Chrollo cocks his eyebrow, but it is only meant to tease you. 

  “Must’ve picked it up from someone.” A relentless pursuit, you press on further, “Okay though, but answer my question.” 

   Silence falls over him, as if he were in his own state of thinking so deeply, but you know it’s mainly a pretense. Whatever he wishes to say after, you know it must’ve been something he had thought of before. In any other situation, this silence often serves as to let a dreadful situation simmer in your mind.  But this time… Ah, you’re quite unsure. 

  Chrollo finally speaks,  “I’ll answer you of course.” The smile he gives you is anything but nice when you are very much aware of the condemnation those same lips bring you, “On the condition you’d kiss me after.”

  “Okay.” To his surprise, you agreed rather quickly. If that’s the sacrifice you need to make, then so be it. A kiss to soothe his soon-to-be sour, scorned face!

  He is satisfied, you can tell. He puts his elbow against the steering wheel, resting his face against his palm. “I don’t know why you’re suddenly interested, whatever designs you have in your head… Hm, I’ll know of it soon.” 

   No one fucking asked damn. You internally deadpanned, impatience is gnawing at your throat. He reminds you of how you’d write your essays when you have to reach a certain minimum word count by relentlessly dragging around a topic and beating around a bush so much that you end up writing a novel rather than an assignment. Ah… To make him anything alike to you doesn’t sound very right. Whatever, you digress. 

   Chrollo finally, finally starts. And you’re excited, elated, jovial- ah every synonym of the word happiness comes into mind. You can put any thesaurus at shame by now. “I remember the first time we met, you called me something of a hopeless romantic. At that time, I had only laughed because I found the sentiment rather off. Such nonsense. Me? An idealist of love? Love has always been a tool for me. You could only dream.”

   You cut to the chase,“Mhm, although you’ve found a contradiction because you actually enjoy those sappy songs right? Okay, what’s next?” 

   “You know me very well (You smile, excited). But that's not all (you frown, deflated).” Sweet, saccharine drips off of his voice. “I’ve never paid attention to such things, not for myself at least. I don’t ‘relate’ to those kinds of songs. But ever since I met you, it felt as if the world had shifted for me.” 

  He doesn’t stop, and for once you are glad he isn't, “My world has shifted and taken a hole in itself, one that has been carved into the shape of you.” 

  It is interesting how he is able to muse so freely about you, in front of you. Where is the shame and decorum?

   “And I do quite like this song, in all honesty.” His gaze meets yours, and grey eyes bore into your soul. “It really does remind me of the one I love so dearly.” 

   Please, please, please, let me get what I want… Those lyrics loop in your head over and over again. You should be sick with the abundance of affection he has for you that makes you seethe. And you would claw at the leather seats, avert your gaze, and try to block him out as much as you can. But tonight, you feel fucking amazing. 

  You can barely handle it. 

   “Dude, come on,” Your voice is off by an octave and you swear you can burst. Chrollo on the other hand finds satisfaction melting off of his face over the term being used to refer to him, outright calling him a bastard or a monster might be better. You make it a mental note to call him ‘dude’ more. “The Smiths is for losers.” 

   …

   “Pardon?’ 

   “The Smiths is for losers.” You repeat yourself before adding, “It’s for guys who can’t get any, for guys who waddle in sadness for something they can’t get, guys who are always up their own ass. Condescending guys who are secretly insecure, manipulative guys, guys who play guitar and get sad then do weed…” You are kind enough to give a long-winded further explanation.  Chrollo does not share the same sentiment. 

  Chrollo’s countenance seems unchanging at first, but it is not a waste, for you saw a split second of confusion, then something of offense written on his face before it smoothes out into the uncannily still expression he always wears. His lips open, then close, as if he’s mulling over an answer.

   “Are you insinuating I am that type of person, dearest?’ 

   "I mean if the shoe fits...? Well, what do you think?"

    He sighs like it’s obvious,  “That you made the wrong accusation over baseless data.” 

    “I’m not accusing you of anything!” You hold your hands up in mock defense, “Just telling you something everyone kind of agrees on. Things don’t have to be written in numbers or books… Sometimes it’s just a consensus. Everyone and their mom agrees on it."

   You are relentless tonight, so you continue again though Chrollo prompts nothing from your newfound talkative nature tonight, something you’re sure he would actually love in a different situation. 

   “These are the kind of guys girls avoid you know? People call it something of a warning. Like, ‘avoid guys who listen to The Smiths’.  I don’t mean to generalize or anything, but guys who listen to songs like that don’t end up to be very well in the head. And I also don’t mean to believe rumors but… Well…” You cough awkwardly, but it’s meant to deliver an unspoken message you know will only further test his ire. But you think you have had enough fun for tonight, you don’t wish to turn the night sour for you after all.

   …Or so you thought. 

   “So I’m just trying to say that you should treat me a little better, you know what I mean? I’m putting up with a lot” Everything you say here are meant to be a 50% insult, 30% jab, and 20% jokes. But the last thing you said, you can’t lie and say that you hope he’d take further thought on that. You yearn to hopefully be able to get out of the hotel room that serves as your grandiose cage more, and when you do, you aren’t being watched by an unknown amount of eyes that you know trail on to you by the shadows. That is all you wish for, really. That is to say, you can only wonder what his standards are for ‘treating you better’. 

   Ah, the smile he has on his face is different from before. This one is a sign that your fun is coming to a quick halt. 

   “So that’s what you’re getting at? Resourceful little minx you are.” 

   Why is he sounding so delighted over your insults, is he a masochist? Is he stupid? It’s your turn to cock your eyebrow. 

  “Have you enticed me in this long-winded conversation simply because you wanted to be treated a little better? And the way you had agreed so quickly to that kiss… " He puts a hand to his chest, a mockery of an apology. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to be so blind to your need for affection. You've gone through lengths to communicate your need, I'm very grateful."

  You let out a humorless laugh, “Pardon?” He is just truly-! Argh, whatever! “Did you not hear anything else I said?” You make sure to enunciate your words properly, afraid he might have some sort of hearing problems, well he does and you’re certain it has a name. What was it again? Oh right, an unfortunate combination of delusion and selective hearing… 

  “I know you tend to turn a little childish when you can’t get what you want. That’s not a quality many men like either. So, be a little kinder to me, won’t you?” 

  “Women don’t usually like mass murderers either. Anyone in their right mind, actually.”

   He hums, “That orange container of pills by your nightstand says otherwise. Not the best defense, try again?” 

   “You'd have some too, you just don't have any because you don't go to therapy."

   “Hm, keeping up that attitude won’t make me kiss you any sooner.” 

   “Then I’ll gladly keep this attitude!” 

   Unfortunately you don’t. You’re angry enough to have the energy to spew a million insults at lightspeed against him, but too angry to form a coherent thought that you’re certain would give him a decent jab. And to be frank, you’re rather spent. When you (reluctantly) asked Chrollo what time it was, thankfully he gave you a proper response. A quick tap of his phone showed that it was two and a half hours above your usual bedtime. The clothes you have aren’t the most comfortable either, while it’s not short they certainly expose areas where the wind would have too much fun dancing over. 

   Traffic is clearing as you can see the hotel you are both staying in come into view. You relax at the sight. You can almost feel the warm bath you will be soaking yourself in, what scent will you choose tonight? Rosemary, lavender… Ah, you can smell them already. You prompt to close your eyes for a moment of rest, but you find yourself sleeping on the rest of the way back.

   You feel fingers combing your locks stirring you awake, they’re Chrollo’s, obviously. Although you are half conscious, you recognize that scent of sandalwood and amber anywhere, as much as you’re ashamed to admit it. 

  “Do you want me to carry you?” Chrollo asks, and you murmur something in between a noise of annoyance and a ‘no’. He chuckles at this sight. “Alright then.” 

   He gives a soft peck on your lips, it’s warm. You almost lean in when the warmth of his lips leave yours, this half-conscious state gives him a moment of your vulnerability he has set his eyes on,  the one he relentlessly pursues after so much. But you know that even when he has a grasp at your vulnerability, it won’t stop him from digging for more. Greedy, ruthless man that he is, he will never stop. 

  “You are absolutely precious, you know that? Even if your mouth tends to run without care” Is that condescension or admiration in his voice? Pity, you can’t tell in the state you are in. You’re drunk from the lack of sleep and the future victory you have in mind. 

  “Before I answer that…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, Chrollo merrily leans in closer to hear you. Your lips ghost by the shell of his ear… 

  …

  “Name five songs from The Smiths. Are you like an actual fan or is it just FOMO?” 

   He just sighs. 

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[toxictigertonic]

Could we get a Franco Only headcannon list? I love how you make him so adorable and so sad. He needs the spotlight. He deserves it. (And then coil. Because you write him laugh out loud hilarious. But baby goes first)

You can't ask for Franco headcanons from me and not expect me to bring about the cringe,,, I apologize in advance.

FRANCO ONLY HEADCANONS

- He has a little bit of a tummy and he's a little self conscious about it I'm not taking this one back.

- If he gets crying hard enough he'll start hiccuping, and it's almost impossible for him to stop once he starts. He hates it so much, it makes him feel stupid.

- His vision is kinda shit but he always assumed it was bc of the head trauma. He has an astigmatism. Get him a pair of fucking glasses please.

- His pokemon team would be Tentacruel (bc poison and water), Kangaskhan (he wishes he was the baby), Vullaby (baby should have a mean looking baby pokemon), Salazzle (poison and... i think you understand), Garbador (he's so stinky), and Weezing (poison gas).

- His top three animal crossing villagers would be Vivian, Diana, and Hazel. He likes the pretty villagers and the big sister ones :)

- He'd love a happy meal from McDonald's, but he'd want extra fries instead of apple slices and when he didn't get them he'd throw it back through the window.

- Would benefit from a weighted blanket. I think he likes to be smooshed flat, not just in the freaky way, but in the pressure stim way too. It's comforting, it helps him calm down, and it's warm and toasty.

- If he lost his pacifier he'd throw and entire fit until he found it again. Screaming, throwing shit, turning furniture over, fighting others, he needs it back and he needs it back NOW. Sucking his thumb will not tide him over, either, the lack of it hanging against his chest makes him anxious.

- If not allowed to suck his own thumb, he will resort to sucking someone else's thumb instead. Yes, this is as horrifying as you think it is. Not as horrifying as him with the big grunt, but still, enough to make most reagents want to crawl under the docks for the rest of the trial.

- He's taking hangover naps in the middle of trials. He had one too many Wolf's Milks the night before and now he's groggy as shit. Catch him taking a nap curled up in a corner. A nice reagent throws a blanket/coat over him and he secretly gets emotional about it when waking up.

- If you make kissy sounds at him after he's made them at you, you better be ready to either run or kiss him. That's an invitation, this man is starved for every sort of attention, and he needs SMOOCHES.

Get this imp out of my head (I'm lying I love him being in my skull at all times)

[m3talmunson]

Eddie didn't really mind pointing things out to Steve, things that the other boy easily missed. He did mind the fact that Steve wouldn't admit he didn't see them though.

Eddie would point out an upcoming speedbump when Steve seemingly wasn't slowing down, and Steve would swear up and down that he was getting there, that he knew. Eddie would point out a tape that had fallen to the ground at family video, and Steve would parrot back the same "I know, I know!" like he wasn't just about to step on it. Eddie would point to a cabinet of the kitchenette in his trailer, asking Steve to grab something from it, and just watch as Steve reached for the wrong cabinet before saying "your other left" like nothing happened. But he wouldn't get complacent.

He couldn't bare the thought of 'what if Steve misses something on the road' or 'what if he trips and gets one too many blows to the head' and god forbid 'how could he ever navigate the upside down if it reopens'.

Eddie was going to make sure Steve got glasses, hell, even those new extended-wear contacts that he knew Steve could afford. Eddie was going to make Steve see, if not for Steve, then for his own sake.

Steve wasn't necessarily thrilled with the concept. He was at work when

"What if I look dinky with glasses? I feel like they'd throw off my charm." Steve said, doing his best to keep a joking tone.

"What if your eyesight keeps getting worse and you can't see what you look at all, dinky or not?" Eddie retorted back, playing the trump card, "Look, I'll even go with you to pick them out if you want. Get a pair of 20/20 eyes to help out."

"Would you really go with me? Robin's been pestering me for ages but I've never actually committed to even getting my eyes looked at."

"'Course I would Stevie, there's no way I'm letting you see anyone else face before mine. Gotta be the first." He joked, giving a bow, "How's next Thursday sound? You have no work, I have no plans."

"Aw you know my work schedule, how sweet." Steve replied sarcastically, "Yeah, next Thursday works."

And then, the next customer came in, and Eddie wandered off to pretend he actually came in for a tape.

When Steve came out of the optometrist's room, he seemed pretty dejected.

"Severe hyperopic astigmatism in both eyes, just like my dad."

"It runs in the family? And you still never got glasses?"

"Oh it gets better." Steve chose to ignore the question, "They've never seen it this bad in someone so young unless they had severe head trauma."

"Steve, you have had severe head trauma-"

"What they don't know won't kill them, hopefully. You wanna explain the Upside Down?"

"Got me there, Stevie."

"Anyways, they say the prescription is fairly common, so depending on the pair I pick I could walk out with them today, if they have the lenses." Steve walked to the front of the shop, looking at the wall of glasses, hunting down any wire-rimmed pairs, the ones the doctor said would most likely have lenses in his script.

"So what are we looking for?" Eddie asked.

"Anything other than circles. That's what my dad wore. Or, wears. I don't really know. Oh, and also wire framed, the doctor said those were more likely to have these lenses." Steve waved the paper the doctor had given him with his prescription as he squinted at the display.

"Let's get to work then!"

Luckily for Steve, he could make out the thumbs up or thumbs down Eddie would give him when he tried on a pair. He sat down with one of the hand-held mirrors and his pick of five frames. He held the mirror as far as possible so he could see them, even getting Eddie to hold it when he was narrowing down the final two, squinting at himself, picking apart his reflection in the mirror. Just when Eddie was about to tell Steve which pair was his favorite, he got cut off.

"Can I help you two?" The attendant in the room finally asked, making Steve jump a little.

"Uhm, no, thank you! Just trying to narrow down which pair to buy."

"Let me see your script and the glasses, I'll look at the tag and see if we have those lenses in." She said, pulling out a little clipboard with a list of the common scripts, those with none left crossed-out.

She stared at it for a moment, adjusting her own glasses in the process.

"Looks like we have the lenses for only one of these, my dear. Of course, you can still get the others! You'll just have about a week's wait until we have those lenses."

"Which pair has the lenses in stock?" Steve asked.

The lady passed him the navy blue square framed pair with the nice and neat rounded corners. Eddie's favorite out of the two.

"Hmm. If I get this pair, I can walk out today with them right?"

"Yes! If you get this pair I can have them done in about 20 minutes, just need to pop the right lenses in and tighten some screws."

"I'll take this pair then, thank you!" Steve said, following the rest of her instructions to go ahead and pay for them while she rifles through the drawers for the farsighted lenses, finding his exact prescription.

"Lucky boy, got the last pair of these lenses in stock!"

"Lucky Stevie!" Eddie nudged Steve.

"Yeah, lucky me." He smiled.

Still though, Steve let his mind wander wild as he waited for the little old lady to finish his glasses.

"What if they really do look silly?"

"Steve you're not gonna look silly. I promise you looked amazing in the display pair." Eddie did his best to sound reassuring.

"Amazing? Like. How much on a scale of 1-10?" Steve regained his flirty nature.

"Like, an eleven, Stevie." Eddie looked away, not willing to let Steve see the blush rise to his cheeks.

"11/10? He does have a nice bone in his body." Steve teased, before the lady called Steve up to the counter with a mirror and his case, his glasses in her hand. Eddie followed in tow.

"It might take a minute, to adjust. Try to look around, read the liscense plates in the parking lot, or something like that." She held her open hand out to Steve and he picked up the glasses, closing his eyes before sliding them on.

And then he opened his eyes. He saw the detail on the counter, not a blank flat color but a salt-and-pepper spattering of greys and blacks. He read the lady's name tag, Caroline's name tag, before realizing that he didn't know her name until then. He looked at his hands, seeing detail that he had never seen before, saw the littler moles that peppered his arms.

He saw Eddie, saw that little smirk he wore in all of it's detail, saw the long eyelashes that framed his eyes, saw the crinkle in his nose.

"Oh my god-" Steve said, his hands dropping to his side, "The world is so much more beautiful than I remembered." He stared for a second longer at Eddie's eyes, the dark brown glowing a little in the setting sun through the windows.

"Thank you, so much for all your help," Steve told the lady -Caroline, he knew her name now- as he grabbed his case, not stopping to look at himself but striding out the door, to look at the detail of the sidewalk, see the little scratch on his beamer that he had never been more excited to see. He turned around to look at Eddie again, see the pride in his eyes.

"Let's get you home, shall we? Since you can, y'know, see this time."

"Let's."

He drove Eddie home, pointed out every new thing he could see, and stepped out of his car to walk Eddie to his door.

Eddie stopped before the stairs to his trailer.

"So, Stevie, did you have a good day?"

"I feel like the world is so much brighter now." Steve said, his eyes flicking to every movement in Eddie's face at that response. His eyes settled on the strand of hair that fell as Eddie shook his head.

"Feel like it's so much softer too." Steve pushed the hair back behind Eddie's ear as he talked, letting his hand linger just a second.

"Weirdly, enough, me too." Eddie pressed his hand against Steve's.

The sun was setting, nobody was out in the trailer park, and in the June heat of Indiana, no windows were cracked either. Behind the privacy of Eddie's van, parked to the left of where Steve's car was sitting, Steve couldn't help himself.

"Eddie, today was wonderful, even when I was slightly panicking. Thank you for being there, you have no idea what it means."

"I think I might." Eddie noticed Steve staring at his lips, and, hopefully not misinterpreting a sign, finally asked, "Steve, can I kis-"

"Please." Steve cut him off, before giving Eddie the kiss he so desperately had wanted since the moment he saw his face that afternoon. Steve was so glad Eddie's was the first face he saw.

~~~~~

baby's first tag list!

@henderdads

thank you for having faith in my work! still learning about tumblr and I thought I could tag people in the comments of my last post, but this is a side blog, so I can't :( anyways now I'm officially building a tag list 💪🏻

[madameaug]

Please don’t tell me jungkook or oc cheats because they just had a baby 🥲

Jungkook would never! If anything Jennette giving birth to little Peanut only enhanced is love for her.

Jungkook During the 40 Weeks of Pregnancy

Finding Out

Jennette didn't experience the typical signs of pregnancy. No morning sickness, no excessive weight gain, no mood swings. Nothing like that at all. She was perfectly fine. She was taking down the silver and gold Christmas-themed tree in February. Still in her festive onesie, Jungkook noticed something quite odd. An open jar of smooth peanut butter.

"You bought peanut butter?"

Taking a big lick from the spoon, Jennette nodded her head.

"Babe you can't stand peanut butter. You literally gag at the smell. Now your eating it straight of the jar."

"I don't know why, but I've been craving it. The smell isn't bothering me right now."

"Are you sick?" Jungkook placed the back of his head on Jennette's forehead.

"I'm fine."

Jungkook found that moment weird, but didn't harp on it. Maybe she was giving peanut butter another chance. Surely that was just the explanation. But it didn't stop there. More peanut butter treats arrived in the house in the next few weeks. Nutter Butters, Reeses Cups, and an unhealthy amount of peanut butter jelly sandwiches.

Jungkook watched in awe as Jennette ate her fifth Reeses in one sitting. The empty wrappers were piling beside her, as she watched an old episode of Martin.

"Jungkook I can literally feel your eyes glaring holes into my face."

"Jeanie are you sure nothing is wrong? Like you aren't hiding anything from me."

"I'm not sick, Jungkook. I'm not coughing, no sore throat, and no fever. I'm literally fine- stop asking."

Six hours later while Jennette was lying in bed, Jungkook lay on his back, deep in thought. The amount of peanut butter products Jennette had been consuming in the past three weeks was absurd. How could she go from gagging at the smell of the ingredient to finishing family-size jars by herself in three days. Jungkook needed to get to the bottom of this. Slipping out of bed, Jungkook went to the 24/7 pharmacy. He went up and down the aisles, hoping to find some fancy brand to explain the eating habits shift.

Tylenol?

Advil?

Metamucil?

No no no.

Soon enough, he found himself of the family planning aisle. In front of him were three rows of Clear Blue pregnancy tests. His heart skipped a beat as he contemplated picking up the pregnancy test.

Better safe than sorry.

The drive back to the house seemed longer, despite him going ten over the speed limit.

"Jeanie... Jeanie baby, wake up." He gently rocked Jennette awake.

"Go away." She yawned turning on her side. She nuzzled into her pillow.

"I need you to take this test for me."

"What test?" Jennette's cracked.

"Just take it."

Irritated, Jennette squinted as she sat up. She slipped her feet into her slippers. She headed into their shared bathroom beside their bedroom. There, she saw a pregnancy test on the counter. Her lips ready to fire off.

"Please just take it. I can't help but think this could be why you have been acting so different lately."

Closing the door, Jennette just went with the motions. Taking the test and peeing on the stick. She wasn't even anxious about the results in the slightest. She wanted to just get back in her bed, before her spot of warmth disappeared.

"Are you done!?"

Jennette washed her hands and opened the door. Jungkook had the edge of his thumb in between in teeth. A soothing habit he only did when he was highly anxious.

Jennette adjusted her bonnet slightly, slipping of her head. She went into her nightstand and put on her signature purple glasses. She couldn't read the test because of her astigmatism in both eyes. The lines would be moving too much for her to read the test accurately.

"See, look, one line." The thin second line arrived as she turned the test to gloat in front of Jungkook.

"Oh fuck."

"Wha-. shitttt." Jennette did a double take, seeing the positive pregnancy test.

Weeks 7-10

The next day Jeannette and Jungkook scheduled an appointment at the doctors office. She got her pre-natal vitamins and an official test done. They found out that they were seven weeks pregnant. The couple wasn't actively trying for a kid, but they were't devastated by the news. They were 29 respectively and could now use the next seven-ish months to prepare themselves for parenthood.

During this time they got their first sonogram. Jungkook was moved to tears and asked for several copies of the picture. One of them going in his car, one on the back of his phone, and the other in his night stand. The picture was so precious to him

It was only one time Jennette experienced morning sickness. She blames the vertigo spell for pushing her over the edge. She was doing perfectly fine, but when she was riding in an elevator one morning. She got nauseous all of a sudden. She told Jungkook, and he ordered her to take it easy for the rest of the day.

Weeks 11-14

This is when the nickname Peanut came about. Now, reaching the end of the first trimester, Jennette and Jungkook was looking at their developing child on the screen. Jungkook could point out their eyes, and tiny toes.

"Looks like this angel is gonna be on the chunky side." The OBGYN commented.

"Their so cute, though. Look at ‘em."

Moving around the wand on Jennette's small belly, they looked at all angles.

"What are they doing doing, doctor?" Jungkook wondered.

"Oh just sucking their thumb."

Jungkook gushed harder at the screen. "Look at our little Peanut."

Weeks 15-18

Time for the long-awaited gender reveal. Jennette and Jungkook opted to keep this moment more intimate. They didn't want a crazy gender reveal party. They were going to keep the gender of their little Peanut a surprise until she was born. But they still had to create a memorable experience.

Surprisingly both Jennette and Jungkook believed that they were having a baby girl. The April weather allowed for Jennette to wear a baby pink shirt and skirt set. Her bump was protruding more, especially from a side-profile perspective. Jungkook was wearing a pink button-up jacket. White t-shirt with pink pants to match. He found this really cute plushy online called 'Cooky'. It was a pink bunny, a perfect gift for the little girl he hoped to have.

"Are you ready to find out the gender of your baby?"

"Yes!" The answered at the same time.

Applying the cold gel on Jennette's belly, the doctor handed the wand to Jungkook. Allowing him to do the honors. He grasped the wand, eyes wide-looking for any declaration of the child's biological sex.

"Wait slow down, bug. Go a little more to the left." Jennette guided. The angle they were looking at they could only see her legs and stomach.

In a gasp of excitement, Jennette saw the outline of a labia majora. Stronger than she anticipated, she gripped Jungkook's shoulder and shook him.

"We're having a baby girl! OMG! OMG!"

“Peanuts a girl! She’s a girl! I’m a girl dad !!!”

Jungkook jumped up and down. The wand was long forgotten as it hit the ground. The OBGYN enjoyed watching the couple celebrate their baby girl.

Week 19- 22

Jungkook was very protective over Jennette's now obvious baby bump. Whenever they were out in public together, he walked slightly in front of her. Avoiding from touchy strangers, placing their filthy hands on her stomach. Only he could touch Jennette's stomach. His little peanut was inside, and he was obligated to protect her, and her mother of course.

On a lazy Sunday morning, Jungkook was playing with Peanut. Jennette was able to feel her kicking, and her moving around in her stomach. Her baby was quite receptive to her father's voice. Jungkook would stand on one side of Jenentte and speak. Watching the little imprints of hands and feet press against her stomach. Indiciating that Peanut was following her father's voice.

"Oh Toodles." Jennette jokingly tapped her stomach. Jungkook was coming closer to her, to do his daily quality time with his baby. She felt a flutter in response.

"Peanut. Come to me sweet girl."

"Ooo!" Jennette reacted to the sudden dart across her stomach.

"That may have been the fastest she's moved." Jennette paused in between her words. Her little Peanut was developing some speed, which always tired her. Even though she hadn't moved a muscle.

"Okay come to this side." And peanut did. Jungkook capturing the moment on his phone.

"I'm for sure showing her this when she's older." He snickered. "Okay I'm over here now."

Week 23-26

Jennette and Jungkook were sitting a frozen yogurt creamery looking at another sonogram picture of their little Peanut. They had gotten a really nice close-up of Peanut's face. Her lips and eyes were well-seen in the image.

"Peanut will be the first person in my family who is bald."

"Everyone in my family is born bald. Including me.” Jungkook commented. He dug deep into his camera roll finding an image of him when he was just a few days old.

"Oh-" Failing to hold in her laughter, Jennette's stomach shook with a violent laugh. Poor Peanut probably thought she was on a roller coaster.

"Most black babies I've seen were born with a head full of hair. It would explain why I don't have heartburn." Doing the same Jennette pulled up a picture of herself when she was a baby. She was born with a mini afro, just like her mother and her sister.

"But look I can already tell she has your eyes. I just know they are gonna be so pretty."

Jungkook agreed. "I make some pretty babies."

"I make pretty babies." Jennette emphasized.

"Can't argue with that baby." Jungkook took a scoop of Jennette's yogurt. "I hope she looks like you."

"I hope so too."

"Just because you said that, Peanut will look just like her daddy." Jungkook kissed her belly. His tattooed hand rubbed over the now darker vertical line running down her bump.

Leaving the yogurt shop, Jungkook and Jennette walked around the area, getting some exercise. Like an excited dad, Jungkook told random strangers he passed about his "twin".

"My twin is in there."

"She only has four more months left."

Week 27-30

Jennette is super clumsy. Don't hand her anything fragile that can break. She has butter fingers unlike ever before. Jungkook had to move the precious pottery to the top of the cabinets. No way would she step on a ladder to get it, so it would require Jungkook to assist you.

"Bug you up?"

Jungkook had a tough training session in the gym and was trying to take a cat nap on the couch. It was 2 am and he believed that Jennette had already been sleep.

"Huh? What's wrong? Peanut good?"

"Yes, she's good. A craving is just hitting me."

"Peanut butter is in the pantry. You can reach it." Jungkook pouted his lips, looking so adorable in Jennette's eyes. She felt bad for waking him up.

"But I kinda want something different. I'm sorry baby."

"Don't apologize. I got you." With one eye barely open, Jungkook got the sweet treat Jennette had been craving. Being the good boyfriend that I knew he would be.

Week 33-36

Peanut's baby shower was a busy affair. Jennette's side of the family flew out to Korea. Her parents, grandma, and her little sister Asia were all able to come. Jungkook's parents handled all the food matters for the party. Jennette was hanging up some decor on the walls.

Jennette felt as big as a house. She looked exhausted and greasy. New growth from her braids were taking over her scalp. The August heat was not making her feel any better. She was already constantly warm with a growing child in her belly. The external temperature of high 80s didn't help either.

It was smart for her to get dressed later in the day, as she would have sweated out her yellow sundress. Instead, she was in her comfy maternity shorts that were extra-large. Cream-colored stretchmarks ran rampant across the surface of her stomach. She hasn't been able to see her feet in the past month or so. She could only imagine what her feet looked like.

Jungkook came down the stairs. Blothes of paint on an old graphic T-shirt. "Baby, there you are. I have something to show you." Jungkook was cheery this morning despite the few hours of sleep he got. He waited at the airport to pick of Jennette's family before coming home around 2 am.

"Come look." Jungkook gently dragged Jennette up the stairs. He had been cooped upstairs with his friends for the last four hours.

"Voila!"

Peanut's crib was set up along the purple-colored walls. There were small animals along the wall. The purple went along nicely with the accent color of white. White flowers were thinly painted, creating a beautiful garden of flowers. Which all came ahead above where Peanut's crib was.

"Bug I love it!" Not wanting to cry, Jennette felt so moved by everything she saw. The nurse was so homey for their Peanut. The carpet was soft, a mobile spun slowly.

"Thank you! Thank you!" Jennette thanked Jungkook's friends, her Peanut's uncles. She would forever treasure the beautiful work that they did.

"Come on you need to get dressed. Guest will be coming in less than an hour."

Week 37-40

Jungkook is the type of boyfriend with labor emergency kits in every vehicle. So that no matter what car they were in, if they needed to drive straight to the hospital then they could. With Peanut arriving in less than a few weeks, Jungkook has become a lot more stressed.

He overreacts to any groan coming from Jennette.

"Was that a contraction?"

"Did your water break?"

"Do you feel her head coming out? Lay down, let me look."

Jungkook was getting on Jennette's last nerves. His pre-parental panic was cramping her style. She looked like a goddess. Afro out, wearing slightly form-fitting clothing. She was like Rihanna, making her bump an accessory with her outfit. Not hiding it under maternity clothing. She does several solo maternity shoots before inviting Jungkook to do a couple with her.

The afternoon of August 31st is when Jennette's water breaks. She was baking peanut butter cookies when a liquid trickled down her leg. Jungkook who was in the shower, wasted no time ushering his pregnant girlfriend to the hospital.

It was seven o'clock and Jennette was only four centimeters dialed. She bounced on a huge yoga ball. She did breathing exercises, and Jungkook was attentive the entire time.

Rubbing her back when requested. Holding her hand, kissing her forehead.

"You are doing amazing baby. I love you so much."

Jennette could FaceTime her mother for a couple of hours as she slowly dialted to eight. Her contractions were becoming closer together, and Peanut was slowly lowering herself into the birth canal.

"I don't think I could do this again." She huffed. She wasn't in pain but was in extreme discomfort. She couldn't get comfortable laying on her back. It just felt wrong.

"Whatever you say baby. Peanut is enough for me."

"Bug can you hold me up. I don't think I can lay down any longer."

Jungkook did just that. As Jennette moaned through her contractions, Jungkook rubbed her back. Trying to keep the hospital gown as closed as possible, he didn't want her ass out for any passing staff member to see.

"Thank you so much Jeanie." Jungkook was on the brink of tears. With the help of three other nurses, Jennette was lying on her back again. The doctor had declared Jennette at 10cm. She could start pushing, and her contractions were much closer together.

"AHHHHHH!"

"GET HER OUTTTT! NOWWWWW" Jennette tossed and turned her head. Her screams of discomfort broke Jungkook's heart. He didn't know what else to say but 'Thank you' and 'I love you'.

Jungkook held Jennette's hand for the entire twenty minutes she was pushing. Jennette's head hit her pillow with a soft thud. All energy left her body, as she watched the doctor hold Peanut in the air. Her lip was quivering with no sound.

"Why isn't she crying?" Jennette choked out, trying not to cry. The nurses didn't respond, wiping Peanut's face of all the mucus. Jungkook's eyes never left Peanut. Her little pink self. He couldn't help but smile and notice that Peanut was bald. Very little hair was on her head, but Jungkook didn't care. She was the prettiest baby he had ever seen. Bald or not.

The doctor smacked Peanut's bottom, eliciting a scream.

"Oh my baby." Jennette smiled, arms open, ready to hold her. Peanut was placed on Jennette's chest. Jennette nuzzled her cheek against hers. Loving the warmth Peanut radiated. Jennetted motioned for Jungkook to get in the bed with her.

"Come on, come hold her. Take your shirt off for skin to skin."

Jungkook was a crying mess holding Peanut. This was the same person scattering across Jennette's stomach as the sound of his voice. He was now face to face with his Peanut. Yeah Jungkook was crying real bad.

Her eyes were like Jungkook's. It was too early to determine her skin complexion as she was just different shades of pink and slight grey. Her nose and lips were like Jennette's. After being washed up and dressed she took a nap on her mother’s chest. Preparing for her baldness, Jungkook put on a gentle (non-squeezing) bow on her head.

Looking at the time, Jungkook smiled even harder.

"Guess it was fate for Peanut to be my twin."

"What makes you say that?"

Shaking his phone, Jennette saw the time.

12:28 am September 1st.

"You got your twin bug. You definitely got your twin."

Series Masterlist:

[starheirxero]

HII XERO THIS IS IMPORTANT

OPINION ON PHOTOPSIAS AND EYE FLOATERS

DIDN'T KNOW WHAT PHOTOPSIA WAS UNTIL RN AND I HAVE EYE FLOATERS MYSELF !!!!!

Photopsia gets a thumbs up bc it seems like it could be a fun little pairing with the whole "astigmatism? nay... there's just little angels waving to me in streetlamps" vibe. My eye floaters annoy me when looking at very white paper tho and it mildly annoys me so I'm banishing them to the shadow realm /silly

[industriallyinsecure]

Sorry if this is a loaded request, but I just had one of the worst nightmares of my life (and considering how horrible/frequent my nightmares usually are, that says a lot), and I've got like a document where I keep track of my worst nightmares. Could I request Ghiaccio waking up to find the reader writing down last night's nightmare, and how he'd comfort the reader and react to their frequent graphic nightmares? Again, im sorry if it's a lot this is a really impulsive request lmao

Oh my goodness I hope you’re okay!

Tw: minor gore

I went with 3rd person for this one

Ghiaccio has always been a light sleeper. It doesn’t take much to wake him up. This time, though, it’s not because of Formaggio and Illuso being drunk off their asses and howling in laughter at something stupid.

No, this time he wakes up to soft sniffling and the gentle creak of a chair. He grunts and wipes the sleep out of his eyes, patting the spot next to him to find his significant other, only to find the bed empty.

They were at their desk, the lamp on at a low level, probably to not disturb him. Ghiaccio squinted, trying to see what they were doing. Peeling the sheets off of him, he slips on his house slippers and plods over to them, placing his hands on the back of the chair to steady himself.

“What’re you doin’?” He asks, voice sleepy and rough. He squints again to fight against his own shortsightedness and astigmatism to see the clock on their bedside table, “ ‘s almost two. Get back in bed.”

They jump in their seat, hastily rubbing their eyes to hide the fact they were crying (as if he couldn’t hear them sniffling anyway).

“Did I wake you up? I’m sorry.”

He grunts, resting his chin on top of their head and moving his hands to their shoulders.

“No,” he lies, “Woke up by myself. What are you even doing? ‘Nother nightmare?”

They wipe their eyes and lean back into his touch, “Yeah. It was a bad one. Worse than usual.” One of their clammy hands goes up to take hold of his middle and index fingers like a child whose hands were far too small. Ghiaccio hummed, shutting his eyes.

“You can tell me about it back ‘n bed,” he slurs sleepily, yanking his hand away from them and flopping back down on their bed. When they don’t join him, a small part of him starts to foam at the mouth from his own sour mood. But they click their pen and shut the book, wiping their eyes again as they joined him.

He took the time to take their appearance in. Bloodshot eyes and a runny nose, wobbling lips and worry lines. They move to embrace him, but he deflects their hands, “No. Little spoon.”

Ghiaccio could see the way their lips twitched upwards slightly before they turned over. Even though Ghiaccio preferred to cuddle face to face, he knew how hard it was for them to make eye contact when talking about something that upset him. He closed the gap, pressing his chest into their spine and tangling his legs with theirs. An arm wrapped around their side while the other was wedged under their pillow. They wiggled against him to get comfortable.

“Go.”

They sigh and gently intertwine their fingers with his, “It was a gross nightmare. You were in it.”

Ah.

“But instead of the usual gross stuff, you were,” he felt their breath hitch, “you were talking to me.”

Ghiaccio shifted to press his face into the nape of their neck.

“It was like-It was like you were blaming me. Blaming me for you getting killed. And you just kept yelling-“ their voice caught, squeezing his hand as hard as their strength allowed. Ghiaccio stayed quiet, even though he had to bite his lip to do so instead of trying to dispel their worries. He would never blame them for anything that happened to him. Never. Not even if they were the one who put a bullet through his head, or poisoned his drink, or killed him in any way. He rubbed their knuckles with his thumb, sighing deeply. “Yelling that it was ‘my fault’ you were being executed, ‘my fault’ you were to be dropped from a high building and become a red smear on the pavement with tissue and brain matter and-“

“Hey,” he says, and it comes out gruffer than he expected. He pauses and allows them to get their fresh wave of tears out, once again showing great patience despite the many thoughts running around in his head. It was a wonder he was even able to stay quiet now that he was fully awake. “Look at me.” He could feel their reluctance as they turned around in his arms, as if he was the very same Ghiaccio from their dream. With gentleness that he definitely would’ve been made fun of for, he cupped their warm, tear stained cheek with his chilly hand.

“That wasn’t me. I’m here. With you. And that won’t change. Not any time soon, got it?” They nod, but he still wasn’t convinced. “The real me would never say those foul things to you.”

“Yeah, I know,” they sniffled, “But it felt so real.”

He squished their soft cheeks. It was rare that he was at a loss for words, but he didn’t quite know what to say. He was never the best at comforting. Even after countless bitching sessions to Melone where they tried to come up with solutions, he still didn’t know how to properly deal with their negative emotions. They stared at him, cradling his hand against their cheek as they sniffled.

“You’re cold,” they whispered after a few moments of awkward silence.

He bit back a snarky comment, “yeah.”

There was another moment of stillness.

“I know I’m new at this,” Ghiaccio swallowed thickly, “but I’m here for you. And… I’ll do anything for you.”

They smiled at him with teary eyes, leaning in to press a little kiss to his nose.

“Can you just stay here with me right now?”

“Its two in the morning. Where else would I be?”

They giggled despite the fact he was being 100% serious.

[gcldfanged]

HAPPY MONDAY / MUNDAY ✮⋆˙⭑.ᐟ let's play a get-to-know each other game ✮⋆˙⭑.ᐟ

what's your phone wallpaper? : It's a Korean phone theme with a watermelon-jelly type icon.

last song you listened to? : Nisekao by yama

currently reading? : Finishing up Juniper & Thorn by Ava Reid, finally

last movie? : LONGLEGS

what are you wearing right now? : dark jeans and my Stardew Valley t-shirt

how tall are you? : 5' 2''

piercings / tattoos? : Just my ears, but I'd love to get a septum + philtrum piercing. Or (ha ha) snake bites.

glasses / contacts? : glasses, to see long distances and drive/fix my astigmatism

last thing you ate? : Leftover chicken tortilla soup

fav colour ? : Can't go wrong with a nice red, but I also like iridescent colors, so I'm technically cheating since that's like at least a 2 color fade.

current obsession? : FFXVI, I am on my replay of it, but I am the type of gamer who is like MAYBE IF I PRESS BUTTONS HARDER, I'LL PERFORM BETTER- so going from ez mode (story focused) to Combat Focused is really killing my thumbs and wrist.

you have a crush right now? : Not real people? I used to have a crush on Robert Downey Jr. but that was more because he was an icon and the main 'recovery story' I focused on when I was struggling with substance abuse & addiction.

fav fictional character? : Villainelle & Konstantin from Killing Eve, Nikolai & Kirill from Eastern Promises, Pullo & Vorenus from HBO's Rome, Benedikta & Sleipnir from FFXVI, Guts & Serpico from Berserk, Shevedieh & Jarve from Joe Abercrombie's First Law universe, Taiga & Majima from Ryu Ga Gotoku...

last place you traveled? : Uhhh I think it was Philadelphia to help out a friend promote their webcomic at a smaller convention.

Stolen From: @sephaeroth Tagging: @sunderedoldfriends

[loudestcloud]

I have hypermobility and astigmatism so not only could I not read sheet music as a kid, I couldn't keep my fingers on the strings, keys or holes of instruments so I just thought that I was cured to never play anything. I never tried a acoustic drum kit up because holding the sticks also hurt my hands and sitting in one position for long time really fucks me up but In primary school, we did all play what I think was the djembe (It was just called 'african drum class' so) but we played like an X8 so as a kid i just assumed a drum that big and non standard would be expensive. I gave up looking for something to play at the start of highschool but in middle of 2nd year I did find a cajón in the music room and oh my god did I love it but up until last month I'd never seen it played in a song or a band.

Then I found the Kalimba also called a thumb piano because that's the only thing you need to play it. The thing that most people are really good at moving fast and thus are my least disabled part of my body, the thing that most instruments don't even use. I have been in love with it since the Christmas I got it 3 years ago. I carry it to any place I can, I took it to my free form classes every week and would play it in the garden or in the park outside and I always play for longer than I assume I am going to. And it was only yesterday that it hit me that at 19-21, i finally have my instrument and also I finally have a hobby that i don't have to turn into anything else! I don't post clips of me playing, I don't want to do it professionally, I don't even feel pressured to perfect a song, I'm 3 years in and I still can't play a full song longer than 2 lines perfectly and I don't care for once! I feel free and finally able to relax.

[nathank77]

8/9/24

9:22 a.m

I struggled to fall asleep hard last night. I needed to double up on all my sleeping pills. It sucked. I had major anxiety... I had way too much caffeine. My thumb moved on it's own. I guess I really got to cut down on red bull days. I didn't realize Gatorade has caffeine in it.

Now I'm worried about Parkinson and like maybe I should cut down on white mulberries.. but I had an absurd amount of caffeine yesterday between the 24 ounces of red bull, the 16 ounces of v8 energy drink and the Gatorade.

I guess I won't drink 2 red bull a day anymore. And no Gatorade after 4 p.m I guess.... it sucks but i know why I struggled to sleep last night. Nonetheless 500 sleeping pills later I did fall asleep by like 12:30. The microsleep trauma was awful. All the flashbacks. It's not worth the money and stress to have 2 red Bulls a day. If it's going to cause muscle movement in my thumb once and make me lay there for 1 hour and 30 minutes with my eyes closed.

I'm never going to find a gf. I grabbed my broken glasses out of my backpack. My spares. I've been missing my half frames. And I technically have theses. Maybe if I start wearing them I'll find a gf. Idk. Maybe I just shouldn't wear my glasses.

Either way, they are broken and tighter than my Ray-Bans and I mean idk If they'll Make a difference. I'll just switch between the two pairs I guess. I'll have two pairs of wire frames for spares in my backpack.

Sometimes I think I could adjust to seeing without glasses, my biggest issue would he my astigmatism. Thank you hibiclens.

Hibiclens almost blinded me. It gave me an astigmatism and it made me need glasses. Now I don't really recognize my face without them and I can't find a gf.

[sufficientlylargen]

When my time ran out and I was officially In Default, I didn't panic, or indeed feel any apprehension at all; this was because I am stoic, courageous, and unflappable, and definitely not at all because I had completely lost track of time hyperfocusing on a gnome's ass.

The gnome I was focused on (to a perfectly normal degree) was, per long-standing garden gnome tradition, a chubby-cheeked, white-bearded man in a vaguely Phrygian cap, though the sculptor had departed from tradition in having him sitting down in flip-flops and sunglasses, flashing two giant thumbs up and a goofy grin. The sculptor had also given him what I thought of as The Shirt, a jaunty beach shirt that earned those capitals by being among the ugliest garments I'd ever seen. The color scheme used colors that I wasn't sure human eyes were even supposed to see, and which clashed in a manner suggesting that a circus tent had had a failed exorcism all over a bowling alley carpet; while the pattern itself might well have been a magic-eye poster for someone with seven eyes and severe astigmatism.

I'd named the gnome Buddy.

Buddy was the third gaudiest of an incredibly tacky twelve-gnome brigade I'd picked up at the pawn shop last year, and the one who needed the most complex engravings - he would be the central anchor, tying together eleven other enchanted-but-also-ugly artifacts into one powerful spell that would, if I'd done the math right, finally keep the damn gophers out of my vegetable garden. Buddy would be at the heart of it, and might also drive some of them to flee out of sheer shock at seeing The Shirt.

I was quite enjoying enchanting things again - free time (and energy) had been scarce during my pregnancy, and scarcer still in the months since the birth. I hadn't touched the gopher ward project in almost a year, and it was frankly miraculous that I still remembered the charm I'd designed at all.

I was, therefore, somewhat irritated when the first of my creditors interrupted me, with a typical demonic devotion to trite symbolism, at six minutes past 7 (a time which I am certain he thought of as 6:66pm, because demons have no imagination whatsoever). A crash of thunder echoed through my workroom (though the evening sky outside remained clear), every worklight died away abruptly, and with the discordant sound of myriad souls screaming in agony, a whirling, sideways tornado of flame sprang to life in my small toolmaking forge.

Black smoke began pouring out from the fiery vortex, and the wails of the damned grew louder, shifting in pitch like some sort of macabre THX Deep Note (a goTHX Note, if you will), and reaching a peak of near-unison as the smoke and flame wrenched themselves from the forge and whirled around each other, a hurricane of heat and soot. The screams cut off as another clap of thunder burst through the room, and the whorls settled down into a slowly swirling sphere of deep black and flickering red.

"𝕍𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕒 𝕃'𝔸𝕣𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕥." The demon's voice shook the floor like a distant train running over an orphanage, and echoed oddly, as though spoken in a vast, cavernous hall wreathed in fire and brimstone instead of a small, messy workroom wreathed in dust and gaudy garden gnomes. "𝕎𝕖 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕦𝕤𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥."

I sighed, spinning a thin web of invisible power to fix Buddy (and the graver pressed against his backside) in place in the air over my table, and turned my stool to face my visitor.

"Belphezius." I acknowledged the flaming sphere. "I know this is a business call, since our contract very explicitly forbids you from interfering with me for any other reason, so can we dispense with the theatrics?"

"𝕀 𝕕𝕠 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕕𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕤." rumbled the eight-foot orb of fire and darkness who had autotuned ten thousand hell-screams to announce his arrival.

"Just… be person-sized, ok? And give me my lights back – how am I supposed to discuss anything with you flickering like a broken night-light?"

For a moment, nothing happened; then the sphere collapsed inwards like a vacuum sealer wrapping an action figure. The flames were sucked into the smoke, which hardened into smooth, black stone, and as the fiery glow faded my ordinary lights sputtered cautiously back to life. I found myself now facing a smooth, jet black, humanoid shape, like a sculpture Michelangelo might have carved if he'd worked in polished obsidian instead of marble, and also if he'd been in the habit of carving basic human shapes and then getting bored and going home without ever adding any detail.

Three cracks appeared in the figure’s smooth, featureless head, widening to take the shape of two glowing eyes and a jagged frown; within them, the firelight still raged. "𝔽𝕚𝕟𝕖," Belphezius said, a touch sulkily. "𝕄𝕪 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕞 𝕚𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕥."

"Thank you", I replied, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. "What do you need to discuss?" I asked, as if I didn't already know the answer.

Belphezius extended one featureless blob of an arm, which grew detail as it stretched, the end sculpting itself into an obsidian hand. "𝕀 𝕒𝕞 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕦𝕤𝕤 𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥'𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟." With a small burst of flame, a roll of leathery parchment (I had never asked what leather they used, and wasn't sure I wanted to know) appeared in his hand, which I recognized as the contract we had signed. "𝕆𝕦𝕣 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕒𝕟 𝕖𝕩𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖: 𝕡𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣, 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕧𝕚𝕔𝕖𝕤 𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕. 𝕀 𝕘𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕡𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣," and here he gestured with his other hand towards the gnome that I was currently levitating with my mind, "𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖 𝕪����𝕦𝕣 𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕒𝕤𝕜."

I lost the fight against the urge to roll my eyes. "You know as well as I do that the task you gave me was impossible. I spent more than a month trawling the kingdom for your stupid warlock, only to learn that he'd been swallowed by a pit of hellfire almost a full week before we made our contract."

Belphezius' glowing mouth-crack curved faintly upwards. "𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕒𝕤𝕜 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕧𝕒𝕟𝕥," he rumbled. "𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕒𝕓𝕤𝕠𝕝𝕦𝕥𝕖, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕦𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕖𝕟𝕕. 𝕀 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕝." He waved the contract. "𝔻𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕡𝕦𝕥 𝕦𝕡 𝕒𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕝, 𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕀 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕧𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕡𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕘𝕖𝕤?"

"Of course I remember," I grumbled, "Your lien on my firstborn has been damned inconvenient."

"𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕," said the demon, the parchment vanishing again in a flash of fire. "𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕚𝕒 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕀 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕖 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕒𝕪."

I raised an eyebrow. "What does Sophie have to do with this? Our contract was for my firstborn child."

The smile faded. "𝔻𝕠 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕥𝕠 𝕝𝕚𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕖, 𝕄𝕤. 𝕃'𝔸𝕣𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕥. 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕞𝕖 𝕤𝕠 𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕕𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕚𝕥." A thin streak of smoke extruded from his hand and solidified into a curved black saber almost as tall I was. "𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕟 𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕕, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕠 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕥𝕠 ℍ𝕖𝕝𝕝. 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕖, 𝕠𝕣 𝕀 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕜𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕔𝕥 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕖𝕚𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕒𝕪 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 ℍ𝕖𝕝𝕝."

I held up my hands placatingly. "I'm not lying! She's the first child I have personally given birth to, but my firstborn is Gylarthrex."

There was a long pause as the demon stared at me, his eyes two unreadable pits of flame.

"𝔾𝕪𝕝𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕩."

"Yeah, Gylarthrex, you know, the Ceaseless Anguish? Vast, tentacles, uncountable eyes, lives in the shadow cast by reality? How does that bit go… 'Past the dream-darkened doorways of slumber, / O'er the cairns where forgotten ghosts blate, / In the pit of creation's black umbra, / Lurks a Horror I dare not relate'? That Gylarthrex?"

"𝕀 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝔾𝕪𝕝𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕩 𝕚𝕤," said Belphezius, condescension dripping from his voice. "𝕀𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕥𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗. 𝕀𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕕."

Suddenly, the color seemed to drain out of the room, with even The Shirt fading to a dull, insubstantial grey, and I was consumed by a feeling of overwhelming, all-consuming insignificance. I could see all of infinity unraveling before me in vast fractal spirals, and my gnomes, my workroom, my entire world seemed less than a mote of dust against the indifferent vastity of space and time. Black sparks corruscated across my vision, I gasped against a sudden lack of air, and I felt frost form on my rings and necklace as a voice like a million icicles being hammered through my brain emanated from the chaosmos around us.

‷⃥⃦⃬̐᷾⃛᷆̋⩩̴̧̧̳͍̫̿̈⃐́⋹̟̭͙͖͇̥̅̅⊰⃯⃭̝̝̈̈⃩ͅ⹋̧̰͔͇⃡⃛̇⃗⛶⃥᷿͎͔͉⃐̉̇⏿⃫̛̳͉̟̭͓͕̿͑⛶̟⃨̤̗᷉᷾̔᷁⦖᷎̼᷂̯͊᷑̐̐≎̪̞̗̟̣̌̉⃡⛶̴̷⃪̞̓͑͑᷉⸾⃒⃪̡͎͍͉᷈̈⊛⃒᷐̜͔͔͓͐⃜⹋̦̮̲᷿̎̋᷋᷶⛶⃦᷐̠̫͍͋̈̋⸾̳̿᷌̏⃗͊̂̊᷃̑⩩⃫̪⃮͛̂⃜᷈͏⊛̺᷽⃧͐̅͐᷆͘⋙⃥̛̭͇̠̹͗̃⛶̸⃭̹̺᷁⃧͒͆⩩̨̫᷽̂᷅̇̀̂⏿̰̪͂᷈̎᷅̏᷼≎̸᷐͍᷸͗̓̃͛⛶⃪̙͖᷽̙̐̄̍⇭⃯̂⃧̋̅⃩⃜̚⩩͏̵͒᷁͆̉᷅ͅ⋹̸̲᷿᷵̀᷃᷇̕⛶⃫̸⃮̪͐̇⃗̾⚲͖⃭⃐̄͛̒᷃᷉⦖͙̺̤⃮͑̄᷀̕⚲̦̠̐᷃᷑⃜̑᷃⋹̯̇̊̏̐⃗᷈̔⅊̫̭̹̠᷆̑͊᷼⋙̼⃮̰̭̥̀᷃̊⊛̷̨̗͉͓⃖᷀᷼⅊⃒̱̰̖̮̇͛̓⚷̧᷽͕̻⃛͊⃜̀⊱̪̖̻̙̈͑⃑᷀⛶᷐͙̘⃬̩⃧́̐≎̳͍̿͐᷀́̉̔̒⃗⊛̶̪᷷͋᷶͏͋᷈≎̴̨̢⃭̼̐́̉⹋⃪̝̜͚̣᷉᷾̚‷̧̼̭̝᷑᷾̎̆

said Gylarthrex, The Ceaseless Anguish from the Shadow of Creation.

Belphezius swore and dropped his sword, which shattered on the ground.

Color and heat returned to the world. I gripped my work table tightly to keep from swaying, and tried to keep my voice pleasant as I called out "Inside voice, please, dear!"

Suddenly, the color in the room seemed slightly muted, with even The Shirt fading to still be pretty garish, and I felt like I maybe wasn't as important as I could be. A few little floaters drifted across my vision, and the air cooled by a degree or two as a voice like a dozen refrigerated q-tips poking the side of my head emanated from the messy workroom around us.

‷̨⃮⃧͂͒̀̽́⊛⃪̡̳͍̺̿́̉̃᷀⊛̛̩̫̲᷏̙᷈⃧⚲⃒̷͗᷵́͌ͅͅ⸾̪͕͎⃮͓̒⃗̕⊱᷏͔⃮̉̈̇̏͊⛶̢̣̹͍⃯᷅⃧̒⸾̗̝͍̝̫᷇᷼᷼⊛⃦̨̢͆̽̓̔̉⅊⃦̲̩͖̟⃯̔̕⅊̛͓̹͙᷈̆͛᷒⊰⃦̤᷒͆͏̰̟̓⸭̴̨̲᷸᷾̕͏̜⸭̨̺̱᷽̲͌̄᷈⸭̯᷈͂͛̀̈́͛᷅⛶͇᷸͊⃧̆́᷄̃⁑͎⃮̅̎⃗᷋⃛᷒⸾̸͈᷿̌͌͑᷀̾⋙⃫⃮᷋⃛̽̓᷆⃩⋹᷒⃐᷒᷃᷵̓⃧᷵⦖⃒̴̨͚̻̖̆̚⇭̡̦͈̮̾̔̀̂⁑⃪̘̦͎͎̹⃯͉‷̸͔̞̰̎̈́̈́ said Gylarthrex, The Sheepish Anguish from the Shadow of Creation.

"That's better, thank you." I replied.

I looked at Belphezius, noting with some satisfaction that he'd lost some cohesion - instead of a polished obsidian statue, he now more resembled some sort of emo chia-pet as his smoke wobbled in little eddies all around his edges. He glared unsteadily back at me. "𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕤…" He shook his head once, and his form solidified a little. "𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕚𝕕 𝕚𝕥 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟, '𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕙𝕚𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜'?" he demanded.

With one hand still gripping the table I waved the other towards a manila folder propped on my shelf between two gnomes (Shitty, who was pantsless and sitting on a toilet, and Superfly, who had a fly's head but also still a bushy white beard and pointed cap). Snaring the folder in a skein of power, I floated it over to the discombobulated demon. "The adoption papers, of course. Just because I didn't personally birth Gylarry doesn't mean it can't be my child. And, as you said, it's older than time, so it was certainly the first of my children to be born."

A shadowy arm grabbed the folder, and the demon wrenched it open. "ℕ𝕠 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕝 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕…" He trailed off, reading the papers carefully. When he looked back up at me, I thought I could detect panic in his burning facsimile of a face.

"𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤…" He looked back at the papers. "𝕀…" He looked at me again. "ℍ𝕠𝕨 𝕕𝕚𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦…" He paused, composing himself. "𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕧𝕒𝕟𝕥. 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 "𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥-𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕟" 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤."

I smiled politely. "It's a magically binding contract. You can try to claim Sophie if you don't believe me."

Belphezius went still, and his eyes closed. A moment later, they flew open again. "𝕀… 𝕀 𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕠𝕥!"

"Because," I said patiently, "the contract is for my firstborn, and that's Gylarry."

The demon stared at me, eyes wide. "𝕀 𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟 𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕠 ℍ𝕖𝕝𝕝!"

"Whether or not your task is possible is irrelevant. The contract is absolute." I did my best not to sound too smug.

At this, Belphezius narrowed his eyes, and took a step forwards, smoke curling from his hand. "𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜," he rumbled as the shards of his fallen saber flew back up to reform in the new smoke, "𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕘𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕟 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙, 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕝."

Dropping my smile, I met his gaze coldly. "I think,” I said, using the power Belphezius had given me to open a rusty filing cabinet on the other side of the room, “that you’ve forgotten the terms we signed. They're very explicit that you can’t hurt me if I adhere to the contract.” My own copy of the contract, written on the same probably-horrifying parchment as his, zipped over to my hand. “You can't even interact with me except to fulfill the contract. I can read you the relevant passages, if you've forgotten."

For a moment, Belphezius glared daggers at me; then he threw his head back and roared, and flames shot out from his body, filling the room. I flinched instinctively, but the fire felt no warmer than a summer breeze, and I could see that none of my possessions were igniting, either. This was a bit of a relief - I was pretty sure he couldn’t deliberately break the contract, but it was nice to see that in action.

It took Belphezius a good thirty seconds to get over his tantrum, after which he fixed me with a furious glare. "𝕀𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦’𝕧𝕖– "

"Enough." I stood up from my stool and stared him down. "You can’t hurt me, you can’t threaten me, you can’t even stay here except to finish the contract. So you're going to take Gylarthrex to Hell, or you're going to relinquish your claim and hold my debt discharged, but either way you're going to get out of my house.”

His eyes bulged (which was no small feat for what were essentially just holes in his face) and for a moment I thought he was going to try to light me on fire again, but then he deflated. "𝕀… 𝕀 𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕤𝕙 𝕞𝕪 𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕞." he grumbled, his sword dissolving back into smoke. "𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕜𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝔸ℕ𝔻 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕓𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕖."

‷⃦̨᷐̖̀⃖͘͘⅌̶̳̺̤̿⃡̊⃜͊̈☋̺̩⃜᷒̾⃛̈́᷅⇭᷎̰̹̭᷑̊⃗̈́⛶̙̮͙᷏᷆᷈̅⃗⏿̛̳͓͔͔᷿̣̿̈́⃜⛶͙̪᷸̈⃖͗᷌᷋⋙̸͓̺᷸̔̾̋̚⦖͔̗̼᷏̓̓᷃́⛮⃯⃯᷷̀̋᷾᷀̕⛮⃒̨̣͓̗̽̌͑⦖⃒̬᷂̱̭͇᷄ͅ⛶̶̜̟᷋̆͊᷑̚⸾̟̺̤᷀̂͊͑ͅ⋹̷̴᷽᷄͗̒͘ͅ⋹̅͌͏̲͐̅͂᷶⛶⃦᷎͓͎͍̋⃧̈́⩩⃒̢̛⃮͚͈̾̏⋹⃒̧̛⃛̅̈́̔̕⸙̟̲̤̱͇⃗⃐̓⸙⃒̣̠⃜̔᷇̈́̌⹋̥᷂̂̽̓̂᷋͘⛶̨᷿̲͓̽̉̎⃡⁑᷂̠̩̑̌́᷅⃜☾̛̜͚⃭̎⃑̀̀⅊⃒͕̰͖᷾᷅᷌̍⊰⃧͏͔̲᷑͊᷄̚⁑⃒̩᷸᷅̀̆᷇ͅ‷̬̮̘̩⃨̜⃬͋, complained my blasted nightmare (like a spray bottle of ice water spritzing my ear).

"𝕀 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥!" snapped the demon, "𝕀 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕠 𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕝!" He turned his smoldering glare back to me one last time, as his artificial body began to soften back into smoke and shrink. "��𝕪 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕘𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤, 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕝!"

With a noise like a thunderclap being played in reverse, the rest of his form flowed back into my forge and vanished.

I sat back on my stool and took a deep breath.

‷⃫̷͖᷌᷆⃖᷵⃜❡̳̭᷂̺̠᷸̿̋̌̈⋹̶̠̪͙͕̀̓̌⅊⃫̡̙⃑͋̇̆᷾⚷̬̮̜᷂̆̽̄⃗⸭᷿̟̓᷅᷇᷑⃗̎⛶̲̟͋᷆᷵⃑᷆̍⁑⃯⃯̄́͋᷃̽᷈⚲⃒̗̹̀⃧͆̓᷒⊛⃥⃮̮͊͗⃡̇̕☋̶̸̛̗̠̺̇̏⇭̶̲᷆͏᷑̊⃜͌⁑̧͔⃖͛᷋͂᷆⃩‷⃫͔̥᷌᷌̂⃛᷼, came Gylarry’s voice (like an ice pop prodding my cheek).

“I know, sweetie, and I’m sorry you didn’t get your vacation. Maybe your mother and I can find another way to take you to Hell.” I sighed, and turned back to my worktable, plucking my burin out of the air. "For now, though, I should get back to work - I'm sure we'll have another visitor soon, and this ass isn’t going to engrave itself.”

"No, Faerie, you can't have my firstborn because a daemon has a lien on it. You can subordinate to theirs to get my second, you can have them subordinate for the second, or find some way to share up to two children as-yet-unborn. Or, you can not offer me such things..."

A.K.A. prelude to the worst/best second "mortgage" negotiations ever

P.S. the collateral is their soul, so having one child is already expected

That's a scenario rife with possibilities! Everybody involved seems up on their laws and loopholes -- at least according to their own people's customs. I wonder if there's wiggle room in the interpretation somewhere.

Does adoption count? Do the kids have to be 100% human? Can the human go sign a third contract with something scary who thinks it would be a hoot to be legally some human's child, then get a chance to wreak havoc in another realm?

(And if the kid has to be the human's biological child, what if that human seduces the boss of one of the other two? Or them?)

There are many ways this could get far messier than any of them signed up for.

[pinkfilmcamera]

nanami with a s/o who wears glasses! (self ship: nanami kento x gee)

wc: 418

warnings: this is not x reader (!!!), fluff, suggestive themes at the last two bullet points

A/N: so fun fact about i've been wearing (and struggling) with glasses my whole life 😭 my prescription is currently around -4.50 + 1.00 on astigmatism and every time i go up my self esteem goes down lmao. also i feel that readers with glasses are not common here???? at least from what i've seen. anyways, as i keep self indulging and keep defining more of me and nanami's story, enjoy this small drabble!

-> nanami ! who takes me to all of my yearly appointments.

-> nanami ! who actually called to make the appointment because I'm used to my mom making them for me since she could have a better chance of finding a good time and date.

-> nanami ! notices i’m really quiet sitting in the waiting room and stops working for just a second to hold my hand and draw circles with his thumb.

-> nanami ! understands my concerns about getting a higher prescription, and my fear of being one step closer to being legally blind.

-> nanami ! stands by the door, close to the projection of letters that indicate the state of my eyesight, so i knew clearly he was there for me

-> nanami ! smiles when he sees my frown soften after my doctor tells me that my eyesight is stabilizing, making the possibility of surgery or staying thinner glasses a reality.

-> nanami ! cradles me while i cry about feeling guilty for spending too much money on my eyesight.

-> nanami ! talks to my mom about insurance so i only have to pay half the price for new frames with my prescription.

-> nanami ! snaps all the pictures of me trying on new frames so i can get opinions from other people.

-> nanami ! who gets on my phone and texts my friends asking them which one looks better.

-> nanami ! pushes my glasses back to the top of my nose bridge when i don't notice they slid down or when i’m too busy to do it myself.

-> nanami ! moved my glasses to a safer place when i just throw them on the bed before having a nap

-> nanami ! cleans my glasses with soap and water and leaves them on the bedside table before he goes to work.

-> nanami ! helps me find my glasses when i can’t find them because i don’t know where I put them, and my eyesight is clearly not well enough for me to find them since they are wire frames.

-> nanami ! that buys my daily contact lenses replacements without even asking, he just checks the box, sees that i’m running low and buys them. I blame it on the eyesight fairy.

-> nanami ! helps me relax when my eyes are not cooperating when putting contacts on. he massages my shoulders, takes me for a walk around the house, and stands by in case of anything.

-> nanami ! removes my glasses before cupping my face and kissing me deeply.

-> nanami ! who puts on my glasses before he takes off his clothes because of a bad bunny song.

so this is the bad bunny song i mentioned up there, he says "no te quite la ropa sin ponerme lo' lente', que quiero verte bien, que quiero darte bien", which translates to "don't take off your clothes without putting my glasses on, i want to see you good, i wanna fuck you good"

[vash-the-trans-catboy]

The Beauty of Storms

Written for @lost-in-thought-20

Summary: Janus hates storms, Logan loves them. Logan shows Janus the beauty behind them when Janus is having a tough day.

Notes: Based on the prompt ‘late night storms with loceit’. So hear is some very self indulgent teenage fluff

Taglist: @sanderdarksides @moons-the-nightmare @heirm @lost-in-thought-20 @1stressedanddepressed @xoaningout @lily-janus @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @thebittybonesaddict @just-a-little-anxious @parksthefrog @randomacnhfan (Ask if you want to be added)

Ao3

Word count: 1468

TWs: implied/referenced homophobia

The pitch-black sky brightens as the lightning strikes. Storms are everything I hate; loud noises, bright lights, and the ominous feeling of drowning from the rain.

Of course, it’s just my luck to get stuck outside in the middle of a storm. I check my watch, 10 pm. Great, it’s too late for any store to be open to find shelter in. I wander around the town until I find somewhere familiar to escape the rain.

I’m surprised no one asked ‘Hey, Janus! Why are you out at night in the rain? Shouldn’t you go home?’ The answer to that question is my parents are dicks to gay people, which is me, so I left. Thinking back, it might have been a good idea to check the weather before storming out of my house. Oh, well. Too late for that now.

Maybe I’ll get struck by lightning or die from hypothermia. The lights of my small town blur together. Astigmatisms in the rain are not fun. That’s what I get for running out of the house without my contacts or even my spare glasses.

I list all the places I could go to tonight. Roman and Remus live all the way on the other side of town, at least another 30-minute walk. So that’s not ideal. Definitely not Patton’s house, his extreme kindness is unsettling. That leaves either Virgil or Logan. Both seem like a pleasant place to go, but what would their parents say to a random-ass teenager showing up to their door late at night soaking wet. Maybe I’ll just find a tree to wait out the storm under. Then I’ll fucking die great, trees always get struck by lightning.

I start walking again in a random direction. Honestly, at this point, I hope a kidnapper van pulls up then I will least be protected from the rain. Mindlessly I walk until I’m in front of a familiar house, Logan’s house. No cars in the driveway, that’s a good sign. Logan is most likely home even though his parents are nowhere to be seen. It’s not like he goes to parties on a Friday night.

I suck in my breath as the doorbell rings. How embarrassing is it to show up to your friend’s house while drenched to the bone and shivering?

A confused face greets me, “Oh? Janus. I was not expecting you at this hour.” He gasps finally realizing, “You are soaking wet! This simply will not do. We need to get up warmed up and into dry clothes immediately.” Before I can respond or try to stop him, Logan pulls me by my arm into his foyer. I kick off my dripping shoes and follow Logan upstairs.

“You are shaking.” His monotone but sweet voice cuts through my constant stream of thoughts. I didn’t even realize I started to shake, “How about I run you a hot bath so you warm up?”

“That does sound a bit pleasant,” My lips drop into a slight smile, it’s no wonder Logan is my favorite out of our small friend group. I twiddle my thumbs as Logan runs the water, occasionally sticking his hand underneath to check the temperature.

“I will get you fresh clothes to put after. Free feel to take your time, Janus.” Logan shuts the door behind him. I instantly feel better the second I get the disgusting wet clothes off. They stick to me in every uncomfortable way. The warm bath helps my bones feel less like icIcles. I close my eyes and drift off to a fantasy world I created in my head. It’s nice and peaceful. Quiet, no yelling, and a cute nerd next to me.

A gentle tap knocks on the door, “Hey, Janus. I know I said take your time but it’s has been more than a half-hour and I wanted to make sure you are alright in there.” It’s been that long already? Hmmm. I must have drifted deep into my fantasy world this time. Sometimes I like that world better than the real one, it’s easy to get lost in there.

I drain the water and wrap myself in the large soft towel Logan left for me. My head slowly peaks out as I creek open the door, “Sorry.”

“No worries. I was just making sure you were alright and didn’t fall asleep in there.” Logan’s smile makes me feel weird and almost fluttery, “There is a pile of clothes on my bed. They should fit, I believe we are a very similar size.” Logan steps out of his room to give me privacy while I change.

“I’m decent now.” Logan returns to his room. It feels weird that he gave up his room so I could change. I could have changed in the bathroom or somewhere else. It makes me wonder is Logan this hospital to everyone or…?

Logan hands me a pair of spare glasses with my prescription. He claims he keeps a spare of everyone’s prescription just in case but I have never seen an extra pair for Patton or Roman. It could just be my gay hopeless self but this seems like something you would do for a person you have feelings for, not that Logan would ever admit he has feelings.

“Would you like to explain why you are here?” Logan pauses for a moment, seeming to regret what he asked, “Not that I don’t want you here. You are always welcome, in fact, more than welcome. It just came as a bit of a surprise to find you here soaking wet.” Logan’s stammering is cute.

“The usual. I don’t like my parents and they don’t like me, so here I am.” I nervously laugh. I trust Logan, I really do, but I’m not in the mood to go into detail.

The thunder crashes in the distance and the lightning gives off a blaring bright flash. I jump backwards and fall into Logan’s strong arms, the blush creeps across my face. Logan looks like he is internally screaming but in a good way, “Wow, I love storms so fucking much.”

“I am actually quite fond of harsh weathers conditions like this.” I give Logan a confused glance.

“How? Just how? It is loud, bright, and it will kill us all.” That’s probably a bit of an exaggeration but I’m dramatic, sue me.

“Everything has beauty in it. Even the storms. Once you learn all the facts and science behind these weather conditions, they no longer seem as terrifying.” I love it when Logan talks about anything or everything he is interested in. I could listen to him for hours, “If you would like, I could teach you about thunderstorms and how they happen.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, I wouldn’t mind hearing.” I say very calmly, trying to hide my excitement from the thought of getting to hear Logan go on about something he is passionate about. I am jumping up and down with joy, in my head of course. There is nothing better than getting to hear Logan talk. He gently pulls me onto his bed and covers us in a heavy blanket. It’s so comfy I could drift off to sleep in his safe and warm arms but not yet.

“For starters thunderstorms form when the warm air rises and turns into cold air. The water vapor condensates into water droplets. In a convection cell, the water droplets rise and fall. After a large number of water droplets gather together, thunderstorm clouds begin to form.” As Logan begins to teach me about storms, I lean closer into him. When he doesn’t react negatively, I rest my head on his shoulder, “Now for the interesting part!” Logan’s face lights up when he says that, “Lightning is a discharge of electricity that is nearly 30,000 degrees Celsius! When the air heats and expands it causes an explosion. The sound the lightning makes is called thunder. Not many people know that thunder is the sound lightning makes. That means if you ever hear thunder there is also lightning even if you can’t see it yet.”

My eyelids get heavy and I have trouble keeping them open. I try to reason with my brain to let me stay up for just a few more minutes but that bastard says no. Logan continues to talk but most of the words get jumbled together as I fall asleep.

“Do you have any questions?” Logan asks, “Oh! You fell asleep.” That’s not true! I’m like half asleep at best but too much so to answer, “Goodnight, Janus.” A soft pair of lips kiss my forehead. Did Logan just kiss me goodnight? I guess I’ll find out tomorrow. My wave of endless thoughts calm in Logan’s presence and I blissfully fall asleep in his arms.

[remmushound]

Hhhhh i wanted to request mayhaps,, what about 2014 Donnie and 2018 Donnie meeting,i feel like those two are two of the most strongly autistic coded Donnies so far(especially 2014 Donnie) and like,, how would they react to their similarities and their differences??

@brightlotusmoon @errorfreak88 part five of my bay/rise crossover!

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Running.” Was Donatello’s answer.

“Running from who?

“Shredder…”

The memory played again and again in the softshells mind. Tripping. Raphael protecting him. The slash of metal against keratin. Raphael’s cries of anguish as his shell was slashed by the impossible blades.

“Did he get any of you?”

“No. I remember we all got into the portal together. Raphael got hurt protecting me like the idiot shellbrain he is! I told him to move, but dear stubborn Raferel never listens. Never.” Donatello huffed and slumped.

“I guess that’s a thing both of our Raphael’s have in common.” Donnie tried to relate, “Where did the portal take you?”

Falling. He and Raphael were falling. His hover shell-extention wasn’t meant to carry so much weight...

“We fell from the sky, and crashed in an alley. Actually think we bounced a few times. In case it wasn’t obvious by the incredibly painful fall, turtles do not belong in the sky!” Donatello could feel the sedative wearing off and the sharpness of his mind returning. “And Raphael isn’t at all aerodynamic!”

“How did you find us?” Donnie struggled to keep a straight face, but judging by his other’s squinting, he wasn’t sure he could even be seen.

Lifting the manhole. The sewer offered warmth and safety and he wanted to be anywhere else except exposed in that moment.

“It was an accident.” Donatello’s voice faded into a soft whisper, almost whiplashing from his previous dramatics.

He was trying to find his brothers. He knew they would find their way to the sewers as well, just like Splinter and April, and he had to meet them there...

“I just wanted to get home…”

The sensor that had gone off was nothing more than a mild annoyance, and he was disabling the camera as quick as it was activated.

“But you found us instead.” Donnie took a shaky breath. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Donatello clutched at the soreness of his arm. Raphael had hugged him so tight— he didn't mean to hurt him, but…

“Aside from the fact by arms feel like they’ve been run over thrice and my back feels like it was hit with a high-speed projectile several times, I’m… peachy.”

Donnie started to gently palplitate the sore muscles Donatello had indicated, searching for any indepth tissue damage that may have occured. Donatello winced, both at the touch itself and the pain it renewed.

“You might’ve torn a distal tendon lifting such a heavy load. Your armor weighs a great deal too, and your… brothers weight wasn’t doing you any favors.” Donnie needed to stay level-headed and calm. He couldn’t afford a misstep in a situation as serious as this.

“I couldn’t just leave him. Dumb as he was, he saved me. If those claws had hit me instead of Raph…” Donatello shivered and clutched at his shell. His soft shell. Even with his armor on, those claws could have almost sliced him in two...

Donnie knew that kind of debt all too well. The back of his mind was brought back to the waters of Brazil. Being narrowly yanked out of the path of a missile by the big, brutish brother he held dear. Donnie wasn’t even sure he had thanked Raph after, and made a mental note to do it soon. It hadn’t been that long, only a few months after the incident. Donatello’s trauma was far fresher.

“I understand all Too well.” Donnie said, “How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

Donnie’s eyes went wide. “Fifteen? That’s... young. My brothers and I didn't have a run in with Shredder until we were eighteen.”

“Count yourself lucky. I was fourteen when everything started. The prime age for rebellion and childhood trauma.” Donatello did jazz hands and Donnie could almost see rainbows and sparkles appearing like some sort of cartoon.

“Yeah, I can second that. My brothers and I were that age the first time we went above ground! Mikey was on his board and riding so fast he took the wheels right out from under this old woman’s Walker! Er, don’t tell Master Splinter that.” Donnie laughed and covered his flushed embarrasment. He cleared his throat. “How old are your brothers?”

“Raphael is sixteen, Leonardo same as me… Mikey’s fourteen— just barely out of genin. None of us were prepared because dear papa banned fighting in the lair. Closest we got to a teacher was Lou Jitsu.”

Donnie’s eyes went wide for several reasons. Raphael as the oldest, for one, just seemed wrong. And how and why would a Splinter ban ninjitsu? Donnie’s father had encouraged it! So many questions shot through his head that he couldn’t bring any of the important ones to light— the words wouldn’t come and his tongue got tied and confused— until finally one popped out.

“Who’s Lou Jitsu?”

Donatello gave a dramatic, long gasp. “Ugh! Scoff!” He crossed his arms and stuck his nose in the air with his eyes screwed closed.

“I— I’m sorry? Wait, did you just say scoff out loud—?”

“Cursèd be the one who knows not of Lou! I bite my thumb at thee!” He bit his thumb.

“I—I don’t—“

“Bite I say! And I’d slap you too if I weren’t blind right now! Damn you mypoia mixed with astigmatism!”

Donnie couldn’t help but laugh at the relatable declaration, too overwhelmed to make sense of the mutants dramatics. “Sorry— I was gonna keep your contacts in, but they seemed to be really bothering you when you woke up. Do you have a fresh pair?”

“Is the twentieth number of the Fibonacci sequence four thousand, one hundred and eighty one?”

Donnie felt his heart flutter. “Only if the previous sequence was zero, one, one, two, three, five eight, thirteen, twenty one, thirty four, fifty five, eighty nine—“

Donatello started to join in and his words matched perfectly with Donnie’s, the mutants leaning close enough to each other that their noses almost touched. “One hundred fourty four, two hundred thirty three, three hundred seventy seven, six hundred ten, nine hundred eighty seven, one thousand five hundred and ninty seven, and TWO THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY FOUR!”

Both Donnie’s fell back cluching their stomach laughing— and their laughter coudn’t be more different. Donatello’s was surprisingly controlled, more as if he was just saying ‘ha ha ha’ out loud instead of actually laughing. Donnie’s sounded more genuine, though the amount of joy was the exact same as his counterpart; his laughs were more like wheezes, some of them to the point of being silent and the only evidence of them being his gasping motions— and of course, various snorts were scattered throughout.

“Nice snorts there.” Donatello smirked.

“Like your laugh was any better.” Donnie shot back.

“Excuse moi, but my laugh is top tier!” Donatello stuck a finger in the air, “Now, manservant!”

“Manservant?!”

“Sorry— turtleservant. Could I maybe get my stuff back? Feeling kinda vulnerable being all exposed like this?” He motioned to his shell.

“I was actually meaning to ask about that—“

“No.” Donatello said simply and with such confidence that Donnie was speechless for a second.

“Oh… ok.”

“Get me my stuff.”

“Okay.” Donnie was happy to have a way out of the uncomfortable situation.