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strawburry01 · 6 months

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Northern Attitude

Summary: The team goes out to a small Montana town facing a random string of murders pointing to a new cult forming in the woods around town. Only once they get there does Hotch realize he recognizes the assistant chief for the town force- someone from his university days.

Word Count: 3k

No smut just angsty, maybe not entirely canon compliant but nothing crazy.

Authors Note: Let me know if folks want a part 2 (you may get one anyway, but my brain hasn't decided yet), or any one offs from Hotch and the characters time in uni. I have ideas...

It was another cold morning in your room. You refused to go to bed if it wasn’t comfortably cocooned in at least three blankets, but it did mean getting out of bed in the morning was particularly dreadful. You groan as you stretch your back hearing it pop as you twist. Eventually, you push yourself out of your warm pile of blankets and pillows to take a shower to wake up and start the day.

You worked as an assistant chief in your small Montana town. Things were slow for the most part. Nobody beyond the average population, except for the summers when the tourists came in for hiking and camping, but even then, it was never too much. A few rambunctious teens some nights, the occasional robbery of the convenience store downtown, a random carjacking every other month, but this had all come to a screeching halt when a random string of murders popped up over the last few weeks. Unfortunately, based on the scenes and your analysis, it seemed cult related, bringing a lot more attention, specifically from the government, to your once quaint town.

Shuffling back to your room after your shower you throw on your average attire, black slacks, blue button up, and boots. Being a woman in a small town police force wasn’t easy, but you’d done your time. It only took a few cases before the men started realizing you meant business, and often would run the opposite direction in the office whenever they saw you walking in with a bad mood knowing you would make their life a living hell. Graduating from university with both electrical engineering and criminology made you stand out when you entered the workforce all those years ago, but the quiet side of you still yearned for silence and a work life balance, which is something you did get all the way out here. Well, at least before this all. You’d been working overtime every night into the late hours trying to figure out what you were dealing with. All you had was your bed every couple hours at night before your brain would wake you up again with a flood of new theories and ideas. You’d be happy when this was over, for all the reasons.

You jump into your truck and quickly blow onto your mug of coffee to cool it down as you head out to the latest scene. You swear out loud as you nearly spill it onto your lap as you take a turn too sharp. You crank the volume of your radio up to help wake you up and try to put you in a good mindset. You never tried to come to work in a bad mood, in fact you tried to come in on the cusp of being annoyingly positive and cautiously optimistic. You knew this line of work was easy to get sucked down into and spiral, you’d seen it before, hell you lived it before when you were fresh out of university. It’s what got you out working in a big city, or for a bigger federal office.

You pull into the parking lot alongside the other police vehicles that had already shown up for the day. This latest murder scene was unfortunately in an empty field behind an abandoned high school. Definitely not creepy at all, you thought to yourself as you got out and eyed the several busted windows on the second floor. You grab your backpack and mug as you make your way to the tent set up with the team’s temporary office with laptops and files from the case.

“Morning boys,” you hum as you step underneath the tent, observing the open screens. You get a few ‘good mornings’ back. Some of the guys had been working since the scene was called in and you could tell. Dammit you should have brought coffee or doughnuts for them.

“Cheers boss”, one of the officers, Carter, sighs to you as he walks into the tent, clinking his coffee with yours. Carter had always been one of your favorites, he was young, wide-eyed, but still meant business. He’d grown up in the area so he knew all the folks like they were family. You let out a small smirk as you sip your coffee, starting to map out the plan for today.

You’d have to scour the entire field. And the entire school. You didn’t want a single potential lead or clue or mistake from them to be lost. The team would hate it but it needed to be done.

“Alright team find a friend and meet back here in ten minutes. You’re going to be split between the school and the field and I need all of it thoroughly searched. Heard?” you said, leaning on the table facing the team you had. They all nodded or chirped back a complaint which you laughed at, “you got ten minutes to warm up”.

You leaned back on the front of your truck as you took out a cigarette and placed it between your lips. Lighting it up you stared out into the field. Dappled with yellows and oranges, you can’t even see the ground through the wheat and piles of ancient dirt. Why here? Any other day this would be beautiful, but knowing a murder happened right here made it such a tragic scene. There’s a crackle of gravel from an incoming car behind you. Probably the chief coming in, albeit uncharacteristically early since he usually stayed in the office until things got really hairy. You sighed as you let a cloud of smoke out of your lips, staring up at the sun. Your phone buzzes against your hip and you lazily slide it out before checking it.

It’s a text from the chief. “Federal Bureau coming in today. Play nice.”. Your stomach flips. FBI? Well shit. Also how rude of him not to text you any earlier than right now. “Who?”, you texted back. You see the cursed three dots pop up and down a few times before the text actually sends. “BAU”. You nearly drop your cigarette out of your mouth at your jaw dropping.

As if on some otherworldly cursed cue.

“Y/n?” a terribly familiar voice says from behind you. You take a sharp inhale, before taking out your cigarette and turning your head, trying to look charming as hell.

“Hello dear Aaron,” you say with a smile on your face, seeing the man who’d been stuck in your thoughts since the day he left your side.

It’s his eyes that never changed. They still scrunch up as he smiles at you.

“I didn’t know this was your town,” he said as he moved beside you. You look up at him, placing your cigarette back between your lips and shrugging with a smirk plastered on the side of your face. You catch his eyes quickly flickering over you, just as you look over him. He used to be skinny, studious, almost a nerd, but the man that stood in front of you now was built, stern, and serious.

“I got told a few seconds ago that you’d be here at all. Chief keeps me on my toes,” you remarked, internally thinking about how you actually wanted to wring his neck for not telling you sooner.

When you woke up this morning you did not- in a thousand years- expect Aaron Hotchner to show up at your work. At your crime scene. It was a tumultuous mix of excitement, nerves, intrigue, and still a bit of anger. You hadn’t seen him in years, let alone reached out. Ever since ending on a sour note you never tried, mostly because you knew he wouldn’t respond- not out of spite but just because he was so busy and focused on work. It was admirable, but also so annoying.

“You smoke now?” he asked, snapping you out of your mental musings. He was eyeing disapprovingly the cigarette still hanging in the corner of your mouth.

“You wear contacts now?” you retorted, raising an eyebrow. He sharply laughed and looked back to his team as they approached.

“Have for a while” he said, turning back to you.

“Haven’t known for a while” you snipped before throwing your cigarette butt onto the ground and smashing it out with your heel to free yourself to meet his team. “We’ll talk later Aaron” you said with a nod which he nodded back to, ending this conversation, knowing more pressing things existed than-

your-

university-

situationship-

showing up again in your life.

Aaron’s team pops up behind him and brings you back to focus. Dammit there was a murder on your watch and you could only think of this fucking man. Grow up, you swore in your head as you forced a customer service smile onto your face.

“Team this is y/n l/n, a friend from university,” he said as he gestured to you. He couldn’t make eye contact when he called you just a friend. You noticed two of the men on the team elbowed each other, no doubt in shock their boss actually had friends outside of work at some point in his life.

Aaron introduced you to his team and you tried to run through their names in your head as you shook their hands. You were terrible with names. Agent Reid was the twiggy one who looked perpetually deep in thought, Agent Morgan was the one with the tight black shirt who who had an air of confidence about him, Agent Jareau was the sweet blonde who acted like the unofficial mother of the group, and Rossi who was the tired old dad of the group. I’m sure Aaron loved being bossed around by him, you thought to yourself as you shook his hand. He seemed nice, but Aaron had never been one to not be the one in charge- the little control freak.

You brought them to your tent to introduce them to your folks, trying to get everyone on the same page with daylight burning. Later than expected due to the guests everyone was ready to actually start looking through the field and school. You felt Aaron’s eyes on you as you told everyone to pair off, but you nabbed Carter before he could object.

The search of both areas wasn’t as successful as you had hoped. The school had some ominous latin scribbled onto the walls in red, which had been determined to be blood on the scene, although it wasn’t the latest victims. Reid had somehow been able to translate the latin- you could see in an instant why they kept him around.

“So what’s the deal with you and the FBI guy?” Carter asks when you get to the smack dab middle of the field. Your neck hurts from craning over the ground, trying to not let a speck of earth go unseen.

“What do you mean?” you ask back, not looking up as you continue scanning the ground.

“I’ve never seen you flustered,” he quips as he pauses, “you actually like-I don’t know it was just weird” he said and half heartedly shrugged as he looked back at the group that had begun to reform by the tent.

“It’s complicated,” you said, knowing that the young adult in him would eat the drama up. Sure enough, he perked up.

“Yeah? What is it? You got an ex?” he said, nudging you.

But that was the problem. He wasn’t an ex. He wasn’t really an anything. He was a friend, sure, but friends also didn’t make out in the corners of parties as much as you two had. And friends didn’t stay up until sunrise testing each other for the upcoming exams every single finals week. And friends didn’t invite each other to spend weekends at their family vacation cabin alone.

“No, no, no, just-” you tried to explain to no avail, not even knowing how to justify this to yourself, “okay maybe,”. Carter let out a low whistle.

“Hey if my ex showed up to work I’d be flipping the fuck out, you’re handling this really well,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. You chuckle at the kids joke.

“Sometimes it’s just nicer to see a familiar face, you’ll get it when you’re older,” you said, knowing hated when you pulled the you’ll understand when you’re older card. He rolled his eyes and groaned.

Once the sun started setting you made your way back to the huddle that was forming of everything theorizing and laying out the evidence. Tomorrow would be busy in the office working to get everything categorized and bagged. You leaned up against your truck again, just like you did this morning, and pulled out another cigarette, flicking the lighter onto the end. You waved your team over and told them to head home for the night. You knew a lot of them had families at home, and you tried to be respectful of it all, even if you didn’t have your own. Some of the security officers watching the spot for the night stayed and mingled with the BAU team a ways away from you, and you settled your sights on the pink hue of the clouds as the sun lowered.

A familiar body moved next to you. You didn’t have to turn to know it was Aaron. You blew a cloud of smoke out the other side of your lips and stayed quiet, waiting for him to start. He had his hands jammed in his coat pockets, his shoulder grazing against yours. People used to laugh at the height difference back in university, and it had only gotten worse it seemed, or at least Aaron walked around with much more presence these days. You were leaning up against the front grate of your truck and felt Aaron slowly move his arm behind you, holding onto the grate on the other side of your hip. Feeling his arm behind you felt so familiar.

“There’s Latin at the other scenes too,” he said, facing straight ahead into the sun.

“Shit,” you said as you slowly nodded, realizing that the scribbles would not just be nothing. There was a moment of silence before he broke it again.

“Do you hate me?” he asked, glancing down for a second, but long enough for you to meet eyes before you looked away.

“You know I could never hate you,” you said begrudgingly, knowing it was the truth. His arm got closer to your back at that and you leaned further onto it, “it’s really annoying honestly” you halfheartedly laughed. You heard him laugh under his breath. You swallowed your pride and leaned in, resting your head on the side of his torso, letting out another cloud to try and soothe your nerves.

“It’s nice out here,” he said, looking out at the sunset still which had only gotten deeper pink and orange.

“ ‘S quiet,” you agreed, “I don’t know how you do it in the big leagues,”.

“You know you could’ve too,” he said, looking down. You stayed staring straight ahead.

“I’m not doing this argument again Aaron,” you said curtly, as you eyed him back. He shrugged and turned away again.

“You know you could have that’s all,”.

“You ever think I’m okay with it out here? You ever think I don’t need to kill myself over every case with the fate of the world hanging on it?” you said, raising your voice a little.

“I’m just saying you were one of the best and you could do a lot in the bureau,” he said back, “in the BAU,” he tested. You let out an angry air of smoke from your cigarette.

“Dammit Aaron don’t do this again,” you said, cutting him off before he can say anything else. You throw your cigarette onto the gravel and kick some rocks over the smoldering residue, “I’m happy here, can’t you just be okay with that?”. Aaron watched you and sighed and shifted in his spot, taking the second to move his hand from the car to your waist.

“I’m sorry Y/N,” he said, and he meant it. You sighed.

“I’m not going to be able to convince you to stay huh?” you asked, trying to joke, but inside you really did mean it earnestly. His thumb rubbed your side. It had been a while since you felt like this.

“I don’t think you’re able to,” he responded, sadness tinging his voice. The two of you stood, leaning into each other watching the sun finally dip behind the hills in the distance.

A few yards away Morgan stood on the phone, peeking around a car before ducking back. Garcia was not going to believe this shit.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #bau team

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batsyforyou · 10 months

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Maedhros Sleep Headcanons

Pariring: Maedhros x reader

Warning: None

Author’s Note: Blanket Series! Honestly I have discovered that my ability to write longer fics over short fics is crazy different. Short fics? Anxiety. Long fics? Long drawn out suffering. Headcanons? Perfection.

If Light sleeper could embody a person this would be it.

You flinched? He’s awake. You take a little deep breath? He’s awake. You turn on your side? He’s awake.

Not that you can tell the difference with his open eyed death stare.

Hypersensitivity Sleep fits him great

As mentioned before elves sleep with their eyes open so the creepy staring is 98/100

It’ll feel like someone’s burning holes in your back

It's kinda like that awkward feeling characters will get in a one bed trope where they don’t hate each other. Pillow walls included.

He honestly has the widest open eyed stare. Like he’s constantly on the lookout for danger.

His eyes will remind you of a cartoon sometimes.

Especially if he’s had a bad day or worse a bad night

Honestly between his weight and height you have it hard most nights.

Like if you wanted space or more important Mae wanted space it ain’t gonna happen chief. Why? As soon as he gets on the bed there is an automatic roll function.

For you anyway.

Were you comfortable? Nice and cozied up in the comforter? Not any more.

Cue the pillow wall barrier

Cuddles don’t exist here; cuddles happen once in a blue moon.

He wouldn’t be able to sleep if you left him though so y’all share the same bed

Not that he sleeps anyway.

PTSD also likes to chime in

The poor thing

If he sleeps he doesn’t sleep peacefully, nightmares are constant

The only downside or upside? Is that if he gets a nightmare it's a deep sleep so he’s not waking up to you he’s waking up to screams and Melkor tickling his ear.

Flight or fight gets in pretty often so the extra space between you and him isn’t just to annoy you

Also please don’t wake him up from a nightmare

When he does cuddle though it's like the sunny day after a big rainstorm and you stepped into heaven

Will never lay on top of you, is too afraid to hurt you

Will freakout if you cuddle up to him as the big spoon

Don’t grip his hair at night either. PTSD overload on that one

If he cuddles you he’ll do it in the daylight were he has zero chance of falling asleep and where he feels safe enough

He’ll either spoon you as the big spoon or let you lay on him and just gently pet your head and stroke your hair.

Will give you a kiss to your temple and if he’s had a good day he might fall asleep like that

Though I suggest you watch him carefully, no need to get punched in the gut by an 8ft elf

And speaking of him being 8ft he will have a major problem sleeping in a bed that isn’t exactly taylored to him

Will be too long for an average bed

So you sleep in a gigantic sized bed, your feet never reach the end

This elf has also seen the light of the Two Trees but don’t be afraid; he isn’t Glorfindel

His hair and eyes glow very dimly because of *redacted*

So it’ll be a coin flip for awe so cute or that's kinda creepy. If y’all have seen Stargate and watched the goa'uld light up their eyes it's kinda like that but waaaay less light.

So the glowing eyes/hair paired with his wide, open death stare burning holes into you sometimes makes you uncomfortable.

He doesn’t move when he sleeps not because he sleeps heavy but because he doesn’t want to take the chance of ruining your sleep

Overall this baby needs some serious therapy and is a 4/10 sleep buddy

Masterlist

#tolkien #silmarillion #silmarillion x reader #maedhros #maedhros x reader #sons of feanor #house of feanor #feanorians

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circus-babe · 1 year

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Butterfly | TH

Sysnopis: A butterfly tattoo you fell in love with, that was prohibited to see by others. And lucky you to see him shirtless that night.

Warning: Mature language, Mature content

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Word count: 4,8k

A/N: Been so focused on Wattpad that I totally forgot about Tumblr 😭. I promise I have a lot of drafts, I just haven’t finished them. (Read Flavors of love on wattpad tho, link on bio!)

Narrowing your eyes, you eyed the shop on the corner carefully, as you heard sirens and cars drive by. There was nothing stopping you from doing this tonight, you finally had the courage of doing something so extravagant. So out of your league, something you thought you would never do.

And now here you are standing just a few feets away from the story, trying to calm down your nerves as you took a deep breath in. You were nervous and even scared, but your determination to try something you’ve never done before was much stronger than that.

Once you took an extra deep breath, you slowly walked towards the store, to that lonely corner that was somewhat illuminated. Looking around, you tried to spot anything that would change your mind, for something to stop your plans. But it felt as if the universe was on your side with this. Something that is very surprising.

Whenever you plan to do something, or you have such an extravagant idea, that is usually ruined by the universe and it’s different ideas it has for you. Ideas that aren’t what you expected or wanted, but you still take them either way.

Sighing to yourself, you pushed the door open, hearing the sound of bells whenever you opened the door. Slowly, you walked in, looking around once you did. The smell of ink was quite strong. You were starting to get bad vibes of the place, but that once vanished when you fully examined it.

The shop had its own vibe, this dark and cool theme of black and white that surrounded it. And the blue LED lights that surrounded the whole room added a nice touch. You liked the vibe, the aura it was giving you, it was sort of making you more comfortable in your decision.

“Hello?” you spoke up, coming closer to what seemed like a counter.

There was no one around, something that seemed unusual for a shop. Without getting a response you walked closer to the counter, clicking on a silver bell that was on it. Giving it a few clicks, you waited for a response.

The room was quiet, too silent. It wasn’t what you were expecting and it was kinda freaking you out. No owner in the shop and no one in it was giving very creepy vibes. Like those movies whenever it starts and the first person is shown entering a haunted place they shouldn’t have and they end up getting killed in the first few minutes of the movie. Yeah those types of vibes.

You didn’t want to be that character, nor were you here for that. You decided to wait for a few seconds, and right as you were about to walk out you heard footsteps. Looking over to the counter, you spot a man with a black hoodie coming closer to the counter. For a few seconds you felt fear, nervous even but once he came much closer you got to see his face a bit more.

He was handsome, very clear skin, soft honey skin, nice brown narrow eyes, and his hair looked fluffy although it was covered by his hoodie.

“Sorry it’s closed” he quietly said, putting his hands on the pockets on his black jeans, as you groaned in response. Maybe the universe is against you after all. There was nothing you could ever do without it getting on the way.

You were disappointed, mostly because you knew tomorrow this confidence won’t be there anymore. So your whole plan will literally go to waste. And like that you coward down to something you wanted to do.

“Ah I see, I came in late, didn’t i?” you chuckled, it was an awkward chuckle since you didn’t have much to say. The disappointment in you was filling your mind that you didn’t even know how to respond. Now Jimin will be laughing at you for a whole hour straight.

You came up to him just a few minutes ago, telling him that you were brave enough to get a tattoo. Something you were always scared of getting because people would usually say the amount of pain it was.

So you never thought about it, until Jimin got his own and told you it wasn’t so bad. And of course you didn’t believe him but you still didn’t want to be seen as a coward so you decided to go to the nearest Tattoo shop. And now it’s closed.

“First time thinking about getting a tattoo, correct?” Shocked, you looked at him with wide eyes, trying to figure out how he knew such a thing. Yes that’s exactly what you were here for, but just how did he know that? Were you that easy to read?

“How did you know?” and with that, you earned a laugh from him. With a smile he started looking around for something. You weren’t sure if you should leave or wait until he got what he was looking for.

“I own this tattoo shop you can say I worked here for a while, I can tell when there’s someone new” he softly said, opening a drawer as you nodded.

That would make a lot of sense, since he has probably seen a lot of people with the same anxiety coming in whenever they decide to get their first tattoo. You don’t blame them though, mostly because you’re in the same position.

With a soft chuckle, he stood up, averting his eyes at you. “I’m guessing if you don’t get it today then you won’t get it at all.” he smiled, writing something down on a clipboard. He really did know his people, his customers to be exact.

“So how about this? It was already closed, but i can make this tattoo for you” he looked over to you and then back at the clipboard. Sighing, you started feeling relieved, and thankful to him for actually understanding your situation.

He was truly a life savior.

“Thank you” you smiled, shaking his head, he extended his hand towards what looked like where the tattoos were done. Nodding, you walked over to it, sitting on a wooden chair that was next to a sort of bed.

As you sat down, you felt your anxiety starting to rise again. You were thankful but you were still getting scared of the idea of getting a tattoo. Just imagining it was making you nauseous.

“Alright” he softly said, placing a stool in front of you, as he sat down on it. Looking up at you, he gave you a soft smile. “Can I have your name?” he asked, ready to write it down on his clipboard. You assume that’s where he puts his customer’s information, something normal.

“Y/n” you smiled, with a nod, he proceeded to write it down, and then looked back up at you. “Can I have your ID?” Nodding, you opened your purse, searching for your ID in your wallet as you quickly found it. With a small smile, you gave it to him.

Softly, he grabbed it, taking a look at it, as he started writing down more things in his clipboard. The silence was making you anxious, it was scarring you, but once he stopped writing stuff down, your anxiousness eased down.

“Alright then, give me a second” he smiled, standing up from the stool as he walked over to the counter. Patiently you waited there, and you were starting to feel a bit awkward until you heard some music play. It wasn’t loud, nor too quiet. It had a good volume. You guessed he took it off before since he was about to close the store.

“Do you have a design you would like to get?” he asked, his voice sounding faint but clear enough for you to hear.

There were some ideas you had, like a small tattoo that would have a meaning to you.

Yeah the decision on a tattoo was all of the sudden, but it wasn’t like you didn’t think about it deeply. Getting a tattoo was something you’ve been thinking about doing way before Jimin dared you to get one. You had many ideas for one, many that had different meanings. And today you could finally express those ideas.

“I do” you quietly said, hearing footsteps coming closer and closer to you. Taking your phone out of your bag, you showed him the pictures of tattoo ideas you had. It took you days to find ones that you truly liked and wanted to get done.

And even though there’s only two pictures that you liked, you were still determined to get it done. “What do you think?” you asked him, although you were sure of your decision, you still wanted some approval and mostly from a person that has seen many different kinds of tattoos.

“I like it, i think they would go well” he said, flashing a small smile towards you, as he focused on the photo you were showing him. “Is this the one?” he asked, as you slowly nodded.

“Okay then, let's get this tattoo done” he smiled, standing up from his stool as he walked over to a table that was full of his equipment. He started picking some things up and placing them on a small table that was next to the stool he was sitting on.

And without knowing it, you didn’t catch yourself staring at him. He was quite the most handsome man you have seen in a while. His honey skin was doing wonders to him, it was so captivating to your eyes. It was enough for you to continue staring at him.

Although you couldn’t see him much, you were already salivating over him. It wasn’t something you usually do, technically you would never do such a thing. But for him you will.

While you continued to stare at him, he didn’t notice your eyes on him as he slowly started taking his black sweater off, and in the process his shirt lifted up, revealing a very captivating tattoo on his lower stomach.

Gulping you stared at it, feeling nervous and a sudden feeling inside your stomach. Looking away, you looked towards the floor instead.

“Do you have any tattoos?” you asked, already knowing that he had one but you wanted to see if he had gotten more. Looking over to you, he nodded softly.

“I have, I have over more than 6 tattoos” he said, sitting down on the stool and facing you directly. For a few seconds, there was a short silence, before he started showing you his tattoo on the side of his hand.

It was a small cross, a thin cross that looked very good on his hand. He then showed you another one that was close to his collarbone and then another one that was in between his chest, one that made you feel shy.

“What about the butterfly one?” you asked, as he slowly looked at you. Meeting your eyes, he looked closely at them, he focused completely on them. And for a second you thought you offended him, that you shouldn’t have asked. “Sorry i-”

“I don’t like this one as much” he cut you off, pulling his shirt up, as he revealed that beautiful tattoo that you felt so attractive to. You could tell he felt insecure about the tattoo, that he wasn’t as proud of it as he was over the other ones.

“I personally really like it” you spoke up, watching the way his eyes found yours, he looked at you so surprisingly, so shocked. It was like he couldn’t believe it at all.

“Do you?” he asked, as you quickly nodded your head. You wouldn’t be sure why he wouldn’t like it, the beautiful blue color immediately stood out to you.

“Yeah, the color is beautiful. And it’s well made” you said, as your eyes didn’t leave his tattoo. As they slowly started going up his body.

Without noticing, your eyes were directing up his body. The way his soft abs were showing, or the veins on his hand holding his shirt up. You didn’t even notice when you started admiring his body and not his tattoo anymore.

He was definitely fit, the muscle on his arm was enough to tell you. And even the soft abs on his stomach that were so captivating to see. It all drove you out of your mind. Enough to start forming dirty thoughts inside your head.

Which you shouldn’t.

Quickly, you averted your eyes elsewhere, as he slowly put his shirt down, covering his tattoo as he brought his clipboard again.

“Can I change the tattoo?” you asked, as he looked over to you. “Yes of course” he said, as he stood up from the stool.

You watched as he started picking up some black gloves, and then placing his tattoo pen on the small gray trey. The needles that gave you shivers down your spine. What looked like some cream and other things you didn’t even know.

Taking a deep breath in, you unlocked your phone. Already looking for a new image to which you already had saved. Let’s say you were planning on getting a tattoo on your arm. Usually that’s where people always start.

You had a cute tattoo idea in mind, and the meaning behind that tattoo was nice. But now you want something different. Just seeing his tattoos gave you a sort of boost of confidence. Something about it made you want to go all out today.

The thing is, you are already here. He’s willing to stay a little longer just to give you a tattoo and well this isn’t always something you would do or think about doing. So might as well go all out.

Even if that means just for today.

Once he finished organizing his things, he sat back down on the stool. Already putting the gloves on.

“I’ll get this one done” you said, turning your phone towards him as his eyes directed to the screen.

The way his eyes widened made you realize that you made a good choice. It meant he wasn’t expecting for you to do these kinds of tattoos which yet again gave you a boost of confidence.

“Are you sure?” he asked, looking over to you. “Yeah” you said, as he waited a little longer.

Thinking that you might change your mind after the decision you just took. But to his surprise you seemed more than determined to do it.

So with a nod, he asked if he could hold your phone. Just to get the exact image of your tattoo. Something that you agreed on, feeling a spark of both excitement and nervousness.

Just knowing you are about to make one of the most extreme decisions you have taken does make you feel nervous. That thrilling sensation knowing that you might regret it but that you will like it either way.

Yes you could easily change your mind. He was more than willing to go with what you wanted. But you were determined.

“Alright then, i’ll bring this closer than” he said, walking over to something that seemed like you can lay down on. You guess that’s where you would be.

You watched as he brought the things closer, and then walked over to the window, closing the blinds as he then said it was for anyone that might walk in and think it was still open. You understood that, but what you were more focused on was the nervous feeling inside of you.

“Okay, you will lay down here” he began to explain, as you just nodded. “This might hurt more than the arm, but it will look good” he said, as you nodded once again.

With his hand, he motioned for you to sit down on the sort of bed, which you quickly did, watching as he brought a small sheet of white paper, already tracing and drawing the tattoo you told him.

“Is this the most outrageous thing you have done?” he asked, his eyes on the drawing as you just chuckled.

“Is it obvious?” you asked, as he looked up at you, giving you a chuckle as he looked back down at the drawing.

“Yeah, but it’s not a bad thing” he added, as you just nodded. Maybe he was being nice to you, but you do think you sound very lame.

It’s mostly the fact that you would be too scared to do any of these kinds of things. So you never really thought about doing these extreme things. But now you are. And it was mostly with a dare of you and Jimin.

“Okay, um you can” he said as you immediately knew what he meant. Slowly, you reached for the bottom of your shirt, already lifting it up as you placed it on the side.

You noticed that his eyes were elsewhere, not trying to look at your now exposed boobs to him. Which weren’t too exposed, you had a bra on. But still. He wanted to respect you enough.

Right after you placed your shirt down, you immediately unclipped your bra. Slowly making it fall on your lap as you watched the way he waited. The way you suddenly took it off was taking everything in him not to look.

It was sort of funny.

Slowly, you laid back down, placing both hands on your boobs as you covered them. Since well they are now exposed.

“Okay” you said, as he quickly nodded, grabbing the small piece of paper as he stood beside you, scanning the area the tattoo would be made.

With his finger, he pointed towards the area, as he carefully placed the paper. You weren’t able to see what he was doing, but you felt like he was doing his job. It took a few minutes until you heard the sound of the pen being turned on.

“Ready?” he looked down at your face, as you nodded. You waited for when the pen would start poking your skin. The moment that everyone started regretting the decision. And right when you thought he wouldn’t do it, you felt it.

That sharp pain that made you gasp out loud. “Relax, I got you” he said, as you took a deep breath.

You waited until it was done, until the pain of the pen hitting your skin would stop. You would be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. Fuck you wanted to just screaming for a bit after holding it in for so long.

The pain was there, that’s for sure.

But he would be there, trying to calm you down and telling you it would just be for a little. That he was almost done with it. And as much as that helped you out, you were still in pain.

“And we are done” he said, after what felt like an eternity of the sound of the pen and the pain beside your boobs, he finished. You might even have shed a tear, but that’s because you haven’t done something like this and well it clearly hurt.

Besides that, you will probably stay away from tattoos for a while.

“I’ll bring the wrap” he said, as he handed you a mirror. Something you quickly took from his hands, looking at the tattoo that was now placed above the center of your stomach. Right below your boobs.

You liked how it looked, apart from red it looked truly good.

As you admired the tattoo in the mirror, you didn’t notice when he walked in. When he accidentally saw your boobs, making him quickly turned away.

“What do you think?” you asked, as you looked over to him. “Huh?” he said, as you motioned towards your tattoo, covering your boobs with both of your hands.

“I think it looks very good” he said, walking over to you, as he grabbed something, cleaning the tattoo as he placed a sort of wrap on it.

“Can you move your hand a bit, i need to clean this side” he said, as you moved your hand slightly.

The soft touch of his fingers brushing beside your boob was bringing this tickling feeling inside your stomach. It felt good. It was nothing much, but it felt so good.

“I think it suits you” he said, cleaning the other side as he then threw the paper on the trash can.

“I have done a lot of tattoos there and i think yours looked the best” he said, as he walked over to the counter, taking his gloves off as you just chuckled.

“The bathroom is on the right” he pointed as you quickly grabbed your things walking over to the bathroom.

Somehow you made it inside with both of your hands covering your boobs. You couldn’t help but admire the tattoo. It looked so nice and it even reminded you of the extreme decision you just took.

Which will be locked inside your mind for the rest of your life.

“Here’s some– oh shit you aren’t done” he said, closing the door right back. The slight embarrassment made you look towards the door. Yet it was also a feeling of desire sparking inside of you.

“I’m sorry” he said, from the outside. “I didn’t mean to look, they look good, wait shit i didn’t mean to”

“Do they?” you said, opening the door of the bathroom, as you watched him standing in front of it.

His eyes lingered down to your boobs but then back up at your eyes. You watched as his eyes went from your boobs to then back up to your eyes.

“I um, they do” he said, as you just chuckled. “Thank you” you said, a mischievous smile appearing on your lips. One you didn’t even notice.

He’s absolutely hot, you noticed it the moment you saw him. The moment you got to fully see his smile. And the part when you were able to see his abs and his stomach turned you on. It’s shameful to admit, but you felt attracted to him.

You aren’t this bold. You made it very clear to him when you were struggling to get a tattoo on your arm, to which you then switched. Getting a tattoo below your boob area was crazy in your opinion.

And now staying right in front of him with your boobs out is another thing. Something that you would’ve never done. Yet here you are.

Something tells you that he isn’t far from your thoughts. He’s not hard to read, as the way he’s scanning you is telling you all the things you need to know.

“I’ll head back inside” you smiled, turning towards the bathroom as you were just about to walk in, you suddenly felt a hand on your wrist that made you stop.

“And where are you going?” he asked, his voice low and deep, creating his sudden feeling inside you. It made you feel nervous, almost like you weren’t the one that came up to him first.

“I think you have something to fix” he said, spinning you around as now you are back to facing him again.

You didn’t expect him to pull this move. Part of you was hoping he did. It was that desire inside of you that was sparking. That shameful lust inside of you wanting for him to do much more than just a tattoo for the night.

And right now you are more than happy.

“Do i?” you asked, as he just chuckled, pulling you towards what seemed like the back of the shop. The nervous feeling inside of you was getting the best of you.

You were getting excited over the small things, like this. Maybe it’s the fact that you haven’t been sexually active. Or the fact that you were liking the thought of getting more than just a tattoo tonight.

Everything was creating such a thrill in you.

Opening a door, he let go of your wrist, closing the door behind him. The room was simple, few of his supplies that he probably comes and gets. Like those storage rooms except there were a few furniture pieces. Like a couch, a coffee table, a few chairs and a small table on the corner. It also had LED lights all around it.

“I quite frankly didn’t expect for this to happen” he said, something that made him walk closer towards you.

“But i don’t mind one bit” he added, as you just gulped, watching the way he was hovering over you. “I promise i will be gentle with your new tattoo”

At some point, you felt so dominant. You felt like you had control of the situation. But now it seems like he’s the one that has it. Yet he looks so hot while demanding.

Before you knew it, his lips were roughly pressed into yours, as his hand held the back of your neck, guiding you as he wanted to. The roughness he had was making you wet already. Just the thought of him made you want to close your legs.

God you didn’t think you would feel this desperate for someone. Just the thought of him fucking you lingered inside your mind.

As you both continued to kiss, he placed his hands on your waist, slowly making you walk backwards as you didn’t break the kiss. Before you knew it, he gently pushed you onto the couch, making you sit on it as your eyes went up to him.

It didn’t take long for him to start taking his shirt off, his pants following right after as the only view was him in his boxers. And that hard bulge that was more than noticeable to see. He was just as turned on as you were.

“You know” he said, coming closer towards you as he suddenly went on his knees. “I think you wanted this as much as I did” he said, pointing his finger in your thigh as he started doing small circles.

Yes you did.

Something about him created this sensation inside of you that you couldn’t avoid. It was strong enough for you to be sitting on this couch, with him almost on your legs.

“What makes you think that?” you asked, as he just chuckled. He slowly started coming closer towards you, his hands going to the side of your hip as the sound of your zipper was heard.

He was unzipping your skirt.

“Because if you didn’t, you would’ve stopped me long ago” he added, slowly pulling the skirt down as you just watched him do it. Not complaining about a single thing because he’s right.

“I guess we are both equally as sexually frustrated” he said, as you helped him pull the skirt all the way down, now being just you in your underwear.

“Luck is on our side” you said, as he chuckled, pulling you closer towards the edge of the couch making you gasp.

Before you could say anything else, he hands were already busy, grabbing onto the hem of your panties as he started to slowly pull them down. Teasing you in a way.

He knew you were as turned on as he was, so he wanted to make you wait. He wanted to see you suffer the desperation and you weren’t far from admitting it. Once your panties were on the floor, his eyes went onto yours.

Looking deeply at them as he slowly spread your legs, creating a playful grin on his lips. One that's making you annoyed.

He was enjoying all the teasing he was doing, you could tell. But fuck were you becoming desperate.

Just as you were about to tell him off, his mouth made quick contact with your clit. Something that shut you up completely.

“Shit” you said, cursing under your breath as his tongue started going up and down your folds. Creating all such lustful thoughts inside your head.

To think your first tattoo would go like this. First it was the bravery you had to have done such a tattoo. It was something that you weren’t thinking of doing.

And second it was now having the person who did your tattoo in between your legs. It just seems so hard to believe. But it happened. If you would’ve known about this then you would’ve come here much earlier.

“You are my favorite guest” he said, as you just chuckled. Throwing your head back as the sound of laughter soon turned into soft moans. Until you felt pleasure all over your body.

He continued to lick your folds, as he then inserted his fingers inside of you, creating a new sensation inside of you. This burning feeling inside your stomach.

“I’m going to cum” you said. As you started arching your back, something that made Taehyung bring you closer towards him.

You kept trying to prevent him from getting closer, trying to push his head away as your orgasm was coming closer and closer. But he wasn’t letting you, it only made him pick up his pace.

“Cum for me” he said, as you felt lost. All thoughts gone, it was just your moans and the sound of his mouth on your entrance. It only brought you closer and closer towards the edge.

“Shit” you cursed out loud, as you soon came. Heavy breathing, you lay down on the couch, something that made Taehyung pull you back up.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” he said, his voice low and deep. Something that made you look up at him, watching as his lustful eyes looked all over you.

You watched as he hovered on top of you, slowly kissing you on your neck all the way down to your stomach. As if your first orgasm wasn’t enough, you were already aiming for another one.

Even though you were already out of energy.

“I will make you want to come back for another tattoo” he whispered, as he stood back up, taking his boxers off as he immediately grabbed the condom from the side.

Once he was done, he pulled you up from the couch, making you yelp with how hard he pulled you up. And soon enough he turned you around, his body pressed against yours as you could feel his already hard cock.

“Let’s fix what you made” he whispered beside your ear, bending you down onto the couch as both of your knees went onto the couch, making you hold yourself by the top of the couch with both hands.

Giving your ass two slaps, he grabbed his cock with his hand.

“Let’s see how well you can take my cock” he said, as he started placing his cock in your entrance, making you grip onto the edge already.

“I can take it” you said, as he scoffed, and with that he pushed his cock in. He didn’t even wait, he just fully thrust himself inside you.

“Shit, oh my god” you were quick to say, feeling your walls pulsing at the sudden stretch. He was big. Just the way your walls needed time to adjust was enough to tell you he was.

You never wanted sex as much as you want it right now. No regrets and no going back.

“Please move” you said, as he was quick to obey. Slowly pulling his cock out as he slammed his cock back inside of you. Making you shut your eyes.

He continued to do that until you were literally begging him to go faster. You wanted him badly, it wasn’t even funny anymore.

You wanted every single part of him, you wanted him to fuck you like you have never been fucked before. If he could break you then might as well be it.

“So needy, huh?” he said, picking up his pace as the sound of his hip hitting your ass echoed through the entire room. Your moans didn’t fall behind.

“Fuck yes i am” you admitted, not even needing to lie since he even knew it himself. Not that he wasn’t in desperate need of having you. Just seeing you was enough to turn him on. And right now he wants to do it all.

“Then i will fuck you like you deserve” he said, as he continued to slam his cock inside of you, making you grip onto the edge of the couch. Eyes shut as you just moaned out. Moaning his name and all curse words you could think of.

Just this moment itself was having you on your knees. You don’t know what it really was. Whether the built up of the moment, or him eating you out until you had your orgasm. Or maybe because this would be your second orgasm.

Something had you begging him to fuck you harder. Just the way you might be bruised on your ass later wasn’t even a bother. You wouldn’t go this far to have sex with someone. You wouldn’t do this much. Sexual frustration is no joke.

“Taehyung” you moaned out, as you felt a pair of kisses on your back. “I will fuck you like this more often”

“Please do” you said, feeling the knot about to burst. And just like that your second orgasm was coming. But this one was harder than the first one. It would have you out of energy for sure.

“I’m going to cum” you said, your knuckles turning white from how tight you were holding onto the edge of the couch. “So am i”

“Cum around my cock” he said, slapping your ass in the process. And before you knew it, you did. You came around his cock. Making you almost fall forward from how weak you felt. But he was quick to hold you up.

“I’m almost there” he said, thrusting into you a few more times before he came inside the condom. Fully filling it up as he cursed under his breath. He held you up with both of his hands on your hips. Watching as you were fully dazed.

“Damn I went that hard? Sorry” he said, slowly placing you down onto the couch as you couldn’t help but chuckle.

You weren’t just out of energy, you were also tired. Your legs felt weak. He really went all out on you and you don’t regret it. You wanted it like this.

“That was the best sex I have had” he admitted as you nodded in the process. “Same here” you quickly said, laughing right afterwards.

“We have to do that again” you said, looking at him as he tried to lay down with you, something you gave him some space for.

“Oh we have to” he quickly added.

After a few more laughs you fell into a deep sleep, something he quickly brought a blanket for. Covering you up with it as he laid down beside you.

And even if there wasn’t much space, he still found it comforting wrapping you in his arms and having you close to him.

He didn’t know you much but after this it will all change.

#kim taehyung #taehyung #bts taehyung #bts #bts one shot #kim taehyung x reader #bts taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #bts scenarios #kim taehyung scenarios #kim taehyung imagine #taehyung scenarios #taehyung imagine #taehyung smut #TAE

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checkoutmybookshelf · 4 months

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Brigerton Round-Up

Ok, so I have read all of the Bridgerton books I care to at this point, but my reviews are spread across this blog and possibly like a year of time??? So I thought it would be fun to bring them all together in a single post!

All of these reviews were written between S2 and S3 of Netflix's Bridgerton Series, so bear that in mind when you're wondering why I haven't talked about all the seasons!

Content warning for some misogyny and discussion of sexual assault.

Also...THERE ARE SPOILERS HERE.

The Viscount Who Loved Me

There comes a point where a girl can't deny she has engaged in a fandom. It probably is well before you start writing fic (you can find The Polin Fic on Ao3), but y'know, here we are. Let's talk Bridgerton.

Ok, couple things right off the top.

We are not dealing with either The Duke and I or S1 of Bridgerton on Netflix. We are not dealing with *THAT* scene and it's complete disregard for consent. Find that somewhere else on the internet, it's a big place.

We are literally only talking about The Viscount Who Loved Me and Romancing Mr. Bridgerton. They're the only books I've read, and at this point they're the only books in this series I care to read. That means we'll also chat about S2 of Netflix's Bridgerton.

Ok, with the ground rules established, let's jump on in!

I think the reasonable place to start here is with Kate. I watched Bridgerton the Netflix series before reading The Viscount Who Loved Me, and Kates Sheffield and Sharma are objectively not the same woman. They wouldn't even LIKE each other. Kate Sharma is self-assured, confident, driven, and quite frankly, a force of nature when she wants to be. Kate Sharma understands that not only is she a grown ass woman but also that if she does not get in gear and go for her goals, they ain't happening. You guys, I freaking love Kate Sharma.

By contrast, Kate Sheffield is a blond, blue-eyed, infantilized debutante with some serious unresolved PTSD. I was not at all sorry to see that Shondaland did away with THAT library scene and THAT bee sting scene. I think that the show did both of them way better, and I will never be mad when an adaptation takes an adult female character and lets her ACT like an adult. I also appreciated the shift from creepy Anthony trying to *checks notes* suck the venom out of the bee sting to a full-blown panic attack. It subverted a highly gendered trope and put both Kate and Anthony on a much more even and human footing. It was also--and I cannot stress this enough--so much LESS CREEPY than the book scene. Anthony describing what he was doing in detail while the reader is told but not shown that he's panicky left several different flavors of bad taste in my mouth. Kate Sharma showing actual dimensionality in her strength in the show in this scene as Anthony goes fully nonverbal is objectively a stronger scene that does far more to develop the characters.

Generally speaking, Anthony Bridgerton is Anthony Bridgerton in both the show and the book, with maybe some of the high-and-mighty, self-righteous edges sanded off for the show. He's a regency era Viscount, there's not a whole lot you can do with him in adaptation. Show Anthony is my preference because he has some of the high-handedness sanded off, and because Jonathan Bailey is extremely nice to look at. I don't even hate the S1 (*gasp* she mentioned Bruno!) sideburns and hair, they had a very 1995 Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy vibe that I was willing to lean into. I honestly don't have a whole lot else to say about Anthony, so let's move on and hope that maybe we get an S3 release date before I get to the end of this post. (Spoiler Alert: We did not)

An Offer From a Gentleman

Dearest Gentle Reader, I suppose if you play with fire, you do eventually get burned. This Author has finally been burned by a Bridgerton novel. --Lady Bookshelf's Society Papers, 7 June 2023

So uhh...yeah. We gotta talk about Benedict Bridgerton. And we gotta talk about what the actual hell happened between book and Netflix series, because I found the series before the book, and even knowing that the characterizations were different, this book was JARRINGLY different, and not gonna lie, I absolutely cannot stand book Benedict and I fully do not understand the Benophie appeal. Now that I've finished painting a target on my back, let's talk An Offer from a Gentleman.

Ok y'all, I have recipts for this one, because book Benedict was basically a "too aloof and edgelordy to give a damn" and he really, REALLY needed to stop telling Sophie she was stupid or thinking too much. He also was hideously high-handed about blackmailing, coercing, and passive aggressively manipulating Sophie into doing the closest possible thing he can make happen to what he wants. He can't hear the word "no." His art seems somehow less important to him than the bowl of rocks at the cottage.

Show Benedict is a sweetheart artist with a wicked sense of humor and a real damn good sense for his siblings' moods and needs. I like show Benedict. I was prepared to yeet book Benedict off a cliff.

So real quick before this descends into incoherent screeching, I just need to point out the section where Sophie leaves the Cavendar's house during a party that is SUPER not safe for her. The "male lead saves the female lead from getting raped" is not my favorite trope in the world, but I'm not here to shame anyone for rescue fantasies. What I am here to do is explainin why Benedict is the WORST POSSIBLE EXAMPLE of this trope. I'm just gonna go ahead and put the passage up here, for ease. This is Benedict's reaction to seeing Sophie is an objectively scary situation:

Cavender was standing under a stately old elm with two other gentlemen. They appeared to be having a bit of fun with a housemaid, pushing her back and forth between them. Benedict Groaned. He was too far away to determine whether the housemaid was enjoying their attentions, and if she was not, then he was going to have to save her, which was not how he'd planned to spend his evening. He'd never been particularly enamored of playing the hero, but he had far too many younger sisters--four, to be precise--to ignore any female in distress.

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS REACTION??? What is this "ugh, I guess I HAVE to step in, what a pain in the ass FOR ME" nonsense??? This is not allyship, this isn't even--as Benedict tepidly says--"having sisters," this is just "ugh, I guess I have to be a hero, how annoying."

If you're going to do the rescue trope, it kind of works better if your leading man gives a rat's ass. Like, give him a strong position on rape being bad. Give him a motivation. Give him something other than an eye roll and vague irritation that he has to do the thing! He's not even particularly T-ed off with the guys in this situation, it's just...and event. That he has to deal with. Like going to the DMV or something.

Can we PLEASE not do this. This is gross, it is bare minimum, and frankly? It's the least interesting version of this trope. I wasn't a Twilight girl, but the scene where Edward rescues Bella from implied gang rape was done better than this moist tissue of a scene purely because HE GIVES A RAT'S ASS ABOUT BELLA.

Bare freaking minimum, your romantic leads have to have strong feelings for each other. Those feelings can be positive or negative, depending on whether or not you're doing enemies to lovers, but the feelings have to EXIST. And when you're dealing with limited third omninscient narration, the character in who's head you are should probably have stronger emotions than *eye roll* to keep it interesting for the reader!! We know Sophie is already in love with Benedict at this point in the novel, but we aren't in Sophie's HEAD just now.

I'm basically out of coherent things to say about this book, so let's just go over key examples of other things in this book that made me rage. It's not every instance, but it's a selection of demonstrative examples.

Let's check the receipts:

She shot him an arch look. "Horse races are almost always silly." "Spoken just like a woman," he muttered.

And just WHAT is wrong with speaking like a woman, Benedict??? Is it maybe because you think they're somehow LESSER than men???

"Sophie," he said, "I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears. Stop taxing your brain with useless mathematical computations and do as I asked."

TAXING HER BRAIN, BENEDICT??? Let the woman think for her own damn self for five seconds!

"His chin jutted out belligerently. "You're not supposed to be thinking. That's the point of of it."

LET. HER. THINK. FOR. HER. OWN. DAMN. SELF.

"You bloody fool," he swore. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is in the world for a woman alone?" "Er, yes," she managed. "Actually I do. If he heard her, he gave no indication, just went on about "men who take advantage" and "helpless women" and "fates worse than death." [...] About halfway through his tirade, she lost all ability to focus on his words. She just kept watching his mouth and hearing the tone of his voice, all the while trying to comprehend the fact that he seemed remarkably concerned for her welfare... "Are you even listening to a word I'm saying?" Benedict demanded.

YOU SPENT THE WHOLE BOOK TELLING HER NOT TO THINK AND NOW YOU'RE MANSPLAINING CLASS TO HER??? SERIOUSLY???

"Don't you ever call me stupid," she hissed. " Benedict blinked, trying to get his eyesight back to the point where he only saw one of her. "I wasn't--" "Yes you were," she replied in a low, angry voice."

Oh, yes, call her stupid. That's a GREAT way to get in any woman's skirts, Benedict. (Please excuse me while I scream incoherently into a pillow in rage.) Punch him again, Sophie.

"I didn't save you from Cavender just to let you squander your life away." "That isn't your choice to make." She had a point there, but he wasn't inclined to give it to her. "Perhaps," he allowed, "but I'm going to make it, anyway."

Wow, so you do ONE DECENT THING and suddenly you own her life??? PUNCH HIM AGAIN, SOPHIE. And no, gentlemen, going "oh shit, I am actually being a huge dick here" and then DOING THE THING ANYWAY does not earn you any points.

"I didn't want--" "You don't know what you want," he cut in. It was a cruel statement, condescending in the extreme, but he was beyond caring. She'd wounded him in a way he hadn't even known was possible, with a power he'd never dreamed she possessed.

ACTUALLY SHE DOES KNOW WHAT SHE WANTS, BENEDICT, BECAUSE SHE IS A HUMAN PERSON WITH AGENCY!!!!!! AND SHE HAS SAID NO TO YOU LIKE FIFTEEN TIMES!!! Dear god, someone throw this man back in the lake and hold his head under.

"I didn't think," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "I know." He smiled. "I know. I hate it when you think. It always ends badly for me."

FOR FUCKS SAKE-- *screams in impotent rage while channeling Beatrice's "would eat his heart in the marketplace" vibes*

So...I actually don't recommend this book. Don't read this one. Just enjoy show Benedict and we can all collectively pretend that the book didn't happen.

Romancing Mr. Bridgerton

I actually thoroughly enjoyed the fluffy confection that is Romancing Mr. Bridgerton, which makes it much harder to talk about than The Viscount Who Loved Me. I suppose the biggest difference between the book and what the show is setting up for Polin is in the stakes. The book stakes are arguably extremely low; the consequences for being Lady Whistledown in the book are essentially a round of polite applause and some deep-seated rage that Cressida freaking Cowper would dare to take credit for Penelope's work. And frankly, I was 100% with Penelope on that one. The show cannot possibly roll with that ending (or if they do, they're going to disappoint everyone) because Penelope has pissed off a reigning monarch, and that has, historically, gone poorly. So I think the show is setting up to give Colin real, concrete reasons to be pissed as hell when it comes out that Penelope is Whistledown, and to actually make the pair work for their romance. And for all I enjoyed the fluff in the book, I am a sucker for multiple layers of increasingly high stakes and I hope the show really goes ham on the payoff for this setup. Frankly, I want Colin to be absolutely furious with Penelope and still ready to sneak her out of England if the Queen decides that Lady Whistledown is too dangerous to leave at liberty.

In terms of how Colin himself changes in the show, I'm fairly cool with the "I am a bottomless pit where is the food" aspect of Colin's character being quietly left behind. I think we can do more interesting things with our male characters than that. However, like many of the people who have both read the book and kept up with the show, I am WORRIED about how much Colin's writing has been downplayed. Yes, he and Penelope have a correspondence, and clearly they mean a lot to each other, but writing letters does not necissarily set up Colin's journals and the writing relationship that the two develop in the book. It's so, so wildly uncommon for game to recognize game and form a partnership of equals in skill in regency romance novels, and that was one of the things I loved about Romancing Mr. Bridgerton. I also loved that Colin, not Penelope, was the less experienced newbie of the writing partnership.

Not that the book didn't complicate this issue, because Julia Quinn didn't hesitate for a millisecond to slot Penelope into the historical role of "uncredited, unpaid, and historically unknown editor and 80% of the reason that history remembers the husband who's name is on the cover of the book." And that SUCKS for Penelope.

That takes me really smoothly into the thing that I love most about what Nicola Coughlan brings to Penelope in the show. She has an edge, a little more willingness to take risks, and that really makes me believe that the Penelope of the show could be behind the edgier, sharper, WAY riskier Whistledown. I am excited to see what they do with Polin in S3!

When He Was Wicked

Ok, as a Bridgerton book, When He Was Wicked was UNUSUAL. Given how tightly knit and very much there for each other the Bridgertons are (although I admit, this might be show bias affecting my reading), the fact that Francesca was, for the most part, isolated up in Scotland and very separate from the rest of the family was odd. It really allowed us to see what a Bridgerton-raised person would do when their back was to the wall and they were more or less alone.

Add to that the fact that most of this book is Francesca's second season and second love and that she gets to have actual EXPERIENCE and CONFIDENCE and not be your bog standard romance ingenue meant that this was a refreshing change of pace. I also would be absolutely remiss to point out that this novel went unapologetic on the fact that Francesca knows a little something about sex and her own body and that she has zero doubt that her needs, wants, and pleasure are important and that she can (and does) ask for what she wants with Michael. That's something that contemporary 2023 still really struggles with, so props to Julia Quinn for making it clear that Francesca can, should and DOES have a voice that matters during sex.

I also want to say that while Francesca wanting to be a mother so badly that she goes for a second season often gets side-eyed or openly pooh-poohed for being anti-feminist, breeding kinky, or somehow lesser, I would say that while the "All I want in the world is to be a mother" is complicated by the regency setting and the gender roles and expectations imposed on women whether they wanted them or not, Francesca is a widow for most of this novel, and widows historically had more (not complete, this isn't perfect) choice about their remarriage, and had Francesca not wanted to, she didn't have to remarry. So I'm willing to give this book the benefit of the doubt that Francesca actually DOES want to be a mother, actually DOES want children, and making the choice to remarry to have kids is an active, intentional choice on her part. Motherhood isn't for everyone, and that's 100% fine. But we shouldn't shame people who do want it, and I think a generous read of this book puts Francesca in that camp without some of the weird vibes and setting complications that you get with Daphne.

Again, none of this is wholly unproblematic, and there are arguments to be made that social conditioning overrode any choice Francesca could make. However, that's a deeply cynical read of a fun, fluffy romance novel, and I'm not here to shame people who can get pregnant for their reproductive choices, whatever those may be.

Michael is, in the grand tradition of non-Bridgerton love interests, fairly bland. His whole thing is being the merry rake, which, like, whatever. That's fine. I'm not like, terribly enamored of his full-on BAILING on Francesca for like three years after her first husband unceremoniously drops dead. I'm also not super enamored of his whole "did I secretly cause my cousin's death because I was coveting his wife and now I can never be with Francesca because I don't deserve her for killing my cousin" schtick, but this is Bridgerton so the absurd drama is pretty par for the course.

The reason to read this book really is Francesca, and Francesca finding her feet as a more mature heroine than we typically see in these books. I was very very much here for Francesca, and I hope that if the show gets this far, we really do get to see how Frannie is different from Daphne, Eloise, Penelope, and Hyacinth.

It's In His Kiss

This is now the fifth Bridgerton book I've read, and I actually have to say that while it's not my favorite of the series, it was a nice change of pace. Hyacinth and Gareth feel like they spend more time together as a couple really getting to know one another, which honestly was not really the vibe of previous couples. Anthony was too wrapped up in waiting to die, Benedict was too busy being shitty Prince Eric and generally devaluing all women everywhere, and Francesca and Colin were working through dead spouse trauma and a variation on professional jealousy, respectively. Hyacinth and Gareth just like each other, and Gareth was refreshingly brief in his daddy issues in favor of seducing Hyacinth and realizing that whoops, he actually meant it. So frankly, Gareth and Hyacinth feel more like they are actually good friends. And as a Polin Stan, that is a little heartbreaking to say, since Polin was supposed to be the friends to lovers storyline and as far as the books go, I actually think Hyacinth and Gareth feel more friends to lovers. Polin is more she fell first, he fell harder, which is a great trope but it's not really friends to lovers.

I swear I'm not going to be low-key disappointed about Polin for this whole post though, because in addition to Hyacinth being genuinely good friends with Gareth, we get her friendship with Lady Danbury. And THAT friendship is an absolute delight, although Jukia Quinn might be flying just a TAD close to the sun by spoofing bad romance books that we read to mock in her series of borderline read-to-mock romance books. This is very akin to my feelings about Penelope getting weak-kneed over Colin's writing talent because he described the temperature of the Agean Sea as half-hour old bathwater. Like, I get what you were going for emotionally, but on a very realistic level, you fell flat on your face and your skirt rode all the way up so you flashed your panties at people by accident, and not in a kinky way. Not that that makes Hyacinth and Lady D's dynamics any less wonderful, it's just one of those "my eyebrows were raised while I was smiling" things. We cannot help but love Lady Danbury.

I also just want to call out the objectively hilarious scene where Gareth goes to ask Anthony for permission to marry Hyacinth and Anthony completely blows the tone with his combination "YES ALL MY SISTERS ARE MARRIED OFF I AM KING" and "hurt her and I won't kill you, I will make your long life a living hell" reactions. I enjoyed this Anthony.

Now, having noted what I enjoyed about this book, it wouldn't be a Bridgerton novel if there weren't also a couple of things that I feel the need to call out as WILDLY WTAF. We're gonna go ahead and start with the prologue, because we need to take a minute and ask ourselves why the actual hell the girl Lord St. Clair was trying to force Gareth to marry had to have a mental disability, and why the hell we needed Lord St. Clair's "kick the dog" moment to be telling his son to rape a vulnerable woman. And that's before we even get into the issues with the rampant asexual objectification and infantilization of disabled people, and how that plays into wildly ableist tropes throughout literature. And the worst part is, this adds literally nothing to the story. We do not even see this character on the page, she is just briefly mentioned twice in the novel and is literally not even an obstacle. This didn't have to be casually thrown in and frankly I saw ten different shades of red when I was reading it. Honestly, it's one of hose thoughtlessly, pointlessly ableist things that causes real harm in the world and I am not here for it.

The other WTAF thing about this book is the fact that Gareth plans to "ruin" Hyacinth. I'm not gonna go do ar as to say there are consent issues here, because to say that would be to wildly and willfully misrepresent their relationship and I'm not going to do that. But I'm not wild about the perpetuation of the idea of virginity as some magical thing that can be taken from a woman and tbat devalues her. And yes, I know, it's it's regency romance. But I can understand scenes-a-faire and still not like it. Which I do not, because it says more about the level to which Gareth initially values Hyacinth than anything else, and you shouldn't have to devalue your SO to feel worthy of them. That is some toxic bullshit, do not do it.

Overall, though, this book was pretty cute and it was heisty, and I am a bit of a sucker for a good heist. Insofar as I recommend any Bridgerton novel, this one was pretty fun.

On The Way To The Wedding

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a hot romantic regency male lead must be in want of a more intelligent heroine. But even given that, Gregory flippin' Bridgerton strains credibility about how obtuse he is throughout this book. Anthony might have been lying to himself and deeply traumatized, Benedict might have been a chauvinist dickhead, and Colin might have been a golden retriever, but none of them were so vacuously vague as Gregory managed to be. That's not to say that I didn't enjoy this book; there were chunks of it I found thoroughly amusing. So let's talk On the Way to the Wedding.

I guess we might as well start with Gregory, because holy cow there was no critical thought in this man's head. He literally did not hear a thing Lucy said to him the night before her wedding to Haselby, because AS COLIN POINTED OUT while he and Gregory were *checks notes* SITTING IN A TREE SPYING ON LUCY'S HOUSE, she did not actually ever at any point say that she wasn't going to marry Haselby, she just made bland statements and let Gregory hear what he wanted to. Like, Greg. Sweetie, honey, friend, she did not explicitly say she was calling off the wedding, and you KNOW she would have if she really intended to. You were thinking with the wrong head, my dude, and frankly it's on your own dang head for being so shocked the next morning.

But on top of having cloth ears when it comes to hearing "no," Gregory managed to talk himself into being in love with Hermione and out of being in live with Lucy. And this is AFTER separate sit downs with Anthony, Kate, and Violet that collectively tell the reader (and should have told Gregory, except he has cotton wool instead of a brain inside his skull) that Gregory has exactly zero connection with reality, no drive or ambition, and has had so much handed to him in life that he won't extend effort to get something that isn't handed to him. Quite literally, my reaction was, "Aww, Lucy gets the second-worst brother. She and Sophie should get together and start a support group." So Gregory and Benedict are super not my favorite Bridgerton Brothers.

One thing about Gregory that was well set up and paid off and used fairly humorously throughout though, is his complete inability to hit anything he aims at with a firearm. I was impressed that he was not toxically masculine about that, and the fact that he nonfatally shot Uncle Richard at the end was well executed, and Lucy telling her Uncle that he is lucky Gregory can't aim for shit actually got a laugh from me. It was very good. AND it established that all four Bridgerton girls can shoot as well, so at some point I want a pall mall game settled via target shooting. My bet is that Eloise thinks she's the best shot, Francesca actually is, Hyacinth does trick shots just to piss off Eloise, and Daphne is scarily efficient as a markswoman.

However, what really kept this book interesting were Lucy and the CW drama-esque plot, because I did not see "oopsie poopsie, did a treason, and now my neice has to marry my blackmailer's gay son" coming in the Bridgertonverse, but here we are, I guess.

Lucy falls into line with Penelope and Sophie in terms of women who are head and shoulders more competent than the Bridgerton man they married, although admittedly Lucy has less personality than either Penelope or Sophie. Lucy is a people manager and pleaser, and she is extremely organized. She also has some excellent one-liners and is more than smart enough to wrap Gregory around her little finger when she needs to.

Unfortunately, she couldn't talk Gregory's stubborn streak out of tying her to a water closet (seriously, what is this, a regency Criminal Minds episode???), which is how we get the big reveal that it's her Uncle, not her father, who committed treason. It's also how we somehow end up with Uncle Richard holding a gun to Sophie in a random bedroom before her marriage to Haselby was consummated, which... Richard. Honey. What was the plan here??? You needed that girl legally and permanently married before Davenport gave up the blackmail. Why are you holding a gun on her right now??? What the hell was the way out of this room of you hadn't been interrupted by the husband squad and their two guns? Weird time for a power trip, is all I can say. You might as well have gotten caught monologuing for all the sense this scene setup made.

And Gregory once again proves that he is a COMPLETE IMBECILE because if you spend an entire book announcing repeatedly that you can't hit the broad side of a barn, why on God's little green earth do you take the shot at a man holding a gun to your love's head? You're as likely to hit her as him! He got lucky because plot armor, but he wasn't the only man in the room with a gun, Lucy's very angry brother ALSO had one, and he was almost certainly a better shot than Gregory. Nobody is exercising critical thought in this scene, is all I'm saying.

Now, for all my criticisms, if you suspend your disbelief, this whole scene is VERY fun, and in principle I quite enjoyed it. Sometimes you have to meet a book where it's at, and in this case it was at CW-esque dramatic farce. So this book was very fun for what it was.

OOH and before I wrap.up and forget: Hyacinth gets to be totally furious in this book, and holy cow I wish we got Hyacinth in a decade st some point, because she would have been show Lady Danbury's equal but more spitfire, and I love that so much for all of us.

This is definitely the last Bridgerton book I'm reading because I have no desire to deal with Daphne or Eloise's books. That said though, the books I have read I was largely either pleasantly surprised by or thoroughly entertained, and really you can't ask more of these books than that. Book Benedict still sucks though.

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raptorladylover6969 · 24 days

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VERY passionate rant under the cut

“The Handler has dino DNA‼️” “The Handler is a robot‼️” “The Handler is a Brooklynn clone‼️” GET OUTTTTTTT GET TF OUTTTTTT I AM SO SICK OF THE SAME. GOD DAMN. DOG SHIT THEORIES. IM TIREDDDD OF IT. ITS THE SAME THING EVERY TIMEEEEEEEE AND I HATEEEEE IT. I WANT NEW THEORIES. ONES THAT ACTUALLY MAKE SENSE. ONES THAT ARENT THE SAME FUCKING THEME ALL OVER AGAIN UGHHHHH.

One thing I hate about Jurassic World youtube channels is when it comes to theorizing abt characters, THEY DONT KNOW HOW TO ACTUALLY AND PROPERLY ANALYZE. It’s like they never payed attention in english class 😭 esp when it comes to The Handler, because yes offence, just saying, their “character analysis” videos are absolute shit. I was yapping abt this early with @koi-fish-boy

What I mean is, instead of coming up with new theories, these “theorists” just take already existing theories, slap it into a video, add some other info that is not even considered a character analysis but just info thats RIGHT IN FRONT OF OUR FACES. The other worst part is, they never show any evidence to support their theories, they don’t make connections. They just go like “Oh The Handler blah blah creepy lady blah blah whats her deal? Blah oh shes probably part raptor or a clone blah blah blah k like and subscribe” GET OUT- 🗣️🗣️💥💥‼️‼️

I could debunk some of these theories right now even I am feeling THAT petty. “Brooklynn clone?” They don’t have the same facial structure, The Handler is 10x more paler, Brooklynn has a button nose while The Handler’s is straight, and have you taken into consideration that other blue eyed white ppl with freckles exist????? Brooklynn isnt the only white chick that exists 💀 “Dino x human hybrid?” this idea for a plot has been scrapped long ago. And even if she was a dino hybrid, she HAS to retain dino like features, like scales, vertical pupils, dino vocals, sharp teeth. NO, her having big eyes and pale skin DOES NOT = DINOSAUR FEATURES. Theres millions of people with big eyes and who are also sickly pale. “But she doesnt blink!” Yes tf she does I have the timestamps to prove it, she actually blinks A LOT considering the little screentime she has. “Robot??” We see her display humane emotions such as empathy in the final episode (I mean this theory itself has already been scrapped by countless ppl so 😼)

The problem here is that ppl dont reeeeealllllyyyy ANALYZE a character, they just observe the surface, find a couple of things here and there, and call it a day. They don’t use all of their senses when looking into a character, they only document what the naked eye can see. That is NOT what analyzation is about. Character analyzation is about digging DEEPER into the character, putting yourself in their POV, in their shoes, reading their facial expressions, their body language, spending hours playing back the same clips over and over again just to find new info, taking note of the dramatic lighting changes, the ambience, making connections, USING CRITICAL THINKING SKILLS TO UNBOX THE MYSTERYS OF SAID CHARACTER. Cmon guys did we learn nothing from Brooklynn??🤨🤨 like no joke me and @koi-fish-boy spent hours rewatching scenes with The Handler and found a BUNCH OF COOL NEW SHIT THAT NO ONE HASNT EVEN TALKED ABT YET.

People dont also seem to have enough balls to connect neuroscience to their theories, which is strange because incorporating psychology and the human brain, or any kind of science to a character analysis can rlly help with coming up with new theories. Why do you think MatPat’s theories were so good and interesting? It’s because he makes CONNECTIONS. He incorporates math, history, folklore, religion, and science into ALL OF HIS THEORIES. HE PUTS WORK INTO THEM. HE THINKS CRITICALLY.

All theories are valid, even the far-fetched ones, thats the whole point of a theory, its supposed to be crazy, but actually putting in the work to find evidence to support your theory WILL STRENGTHEN IT, and make it 100x more interesting. You can’t just introduce a theory without evidence to back it up, there needs to be at least 1 reason to even consider your theory plausible. Like the clone theory, I’m not entirely against it cuz cloning IS a thing in the JW universe, like that theory makes the most sense cuz its happened before, so why not again? I still think its absolutely crap, but I’ll admit, it makes sense. Why? Cause theres evidence to back it up.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk 🤗

#jurassic world chaos theory #jurassic world #jwct #raptor lady #the handler jwct #rant #character analysis #GRGRGGRR #cmon guys THINK OUTSIDE THE BOXX #LETS GET CREATIVE!!! /ref

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astra-ella · 7 months

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𝐙𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

fandom: haikyuu ship: nishinoya yuu x oc/reader status: complete ao3 link

"I think you're really pretty. Will you go out with me?" That was the first thing he's ever said to her. And needless to say, Amari Chiyo was not impressed. So as promised, Nishinoya Yuu will get to know her better and confess again. And again. And again. And again. It'll take 6 years and 9 confessions, but he'll get there. Eventually.

⌦ content: fluff, light angst, love at first sight, friends to lover, slice of life, haikyuu manga spoilers

⌦ note: you are free to insert yourself into Chiyo, just keep in mind she has her own character/backstory. i know some people don't like that, so just a heads-up.

story masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

The eighth time he confessed was during the summer of their third year — at the firework festival.

It was ironic. Chiyo remembered turning Nishinoya down relatively harshly when he asked her to go almost three summers ago. But when he asked her out during one of their summer homework cram sessions at a local cafe this year, for some reason she felt compelled to say yes.

Her father teased her, asking if the outing was a date – to which Chiyo vehemently denied. Though deep down, she wasn’t quite sure. Nishinoya had gotten so excited and cheered so loudly when she agreed to his invitation, she didn’t have the time to ask for his intentions.

Or perhaps she did but simply lacked the nerves.

Either way, she took the day off work and got all dolled up in the red and gold floral-print yukata she received from her aunt and uncle as a birthday gift earlier that year. She even called up Honoka and asked her to come over to do her hair, to which the aspiring hairstylist agreed on the condition that she got all the details about this ‘date-but-not-a-date.’

She couldn’t help but feel a little nervous as she made her way toward the temple. She wondered if she looked nearly as pretty as the group of teenage girls walking not far in front of her. Perhaps she looked weird in the yukata, perhaps her hair had somehow gotten messy on the walk over, or perhaps her lip gloss had accidentally smudged due to how many times she pressed her lips together.

But all those worries melted away when she locked eyes with Nishinoya at their meet-up spot. Maybe it was just the festival lights, but his cheeks seemed to grow a little redder at the sight of her.

“Hey,” he pushed off the sidewalk pole he was leaning against. He too wore a cream-coloured yukata, decorated with dragon prints outlined in maroon. He eyed her from head to toe, looking like he was at a loss for words for the first time in his life. “Wow, you look… great.”

“You think?” Chiyo murmured and Nishinoya nodded vigorously.

“Yeah! I mean you always look great, but the traditional clothes are a nice touch.”

Tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear, Chiyo smiled. “Thanks.”

Nishinoya stared for a few seconds longer. It wasn’t long enough to be considered rude or creepy, but just long enough to let Chiyo know that he genuinely appreciated her outfit. Eventually, he clapped his hands together and turned towards the lines of festival stands. “Alright, let’s get going,” he said. “The festival isn’t gonna last all night.”

“Mhm,” holding her kimono purse with both hands, Chiyo was about to follow him down the path when Nishinoya suddenly paused.

“Oh, right!” He turned back towards her and extended his hand. “Here!”

Chiyo blinked.

“So we don't get separated, you know?” Nishinoya said.

That was a lie. Karasuno was a relatively small town, even by Miyagi’s standards. And while the firework festival was a hot gathering spot for most of its citizens, it was still difficult to get lost or separated that easily.

Chiyo knew that. She did, but she still chose to gently place her hand in Nishinoya’s open palm. She could feel her face burning as her blue eyes flickered between the ground and his wide-eyed expression.

“It’s…” She pressed her lips together. “It’s just so we don’t get separated… Okay?”

Nishinoya was flabbergasted for a moment. Perhaps he had expected her to turn him down, to swat his hand away like she always did. But when the initial shock wore off, an eager grin spread across his cheeks.

“Of course,” Nishinoya laughed, tugging her along. “Come on, I wanna get some yakisoba.”

Usually, the main temple of Karasuno city was relatively quiet, save for the occasional wedding. But for one night each summer, the area would truly come to life as families and friends gathered to celebrate the local shrine’s deity. Various food stands and game stations lined the sides of the path and traditional music played through the mini speakers.

Underneath the strung-up wax paper lanterns, Chiyo walked alongside Nishinoya, peering down at the bite she took out of her crimson candied apple.

“Is it good?” He asked, now wearing a white kitsune mask over his forehead.

“Yeah,” Chiyo nodded. “It’s just been a while since I’ve had one. Hotaru used to love these when she was little.”

“Really? I’m more of a chocolate banana guy myself,” Nishinoya hummed. “Hey, what time do the fireworks start again?”

“Seven-thirty, I think,” she checked her phone. “We still have a little more time. Is there something you want to do?”

“I wanna go to the shooting gallery!”

Chiyo raised an eyebrow. She looked around, trying her best to spot one with no avail. “I think I saw one a little further back there,” she said, pointing her sweet treat behind herself. “Do you wanna go?”

“Perfect!” Nishinoya’s grip on her hand tightened. “Let’s go!”

Chiyo’s eyes crinkled a little at his enthusiasm. They made a quick turn and set off in the direction they came from.

“By the way, where is your grandpa tonight?” She asked as she took another bite of her candied apple.

“He’s on a date with that uhh…” He twirled his finger in the air. “Flight attendant, I think.”

“Ah, Kasumi-san?” Chiyo said after a moment of thought, barely remembering the woman’s name from her last visit to the Nishinoya residence. “I thought she left for Thailand already.”

Nishinoya shook his head. “Nah, that’s tomorrow,” he glanced up at the velvet sky for a bit before turning his attention back to Chiyo. “What about Hotaru and Kaito? What are they doing tonight?”

“They’re with dad.”

“Oh, nice!” Nishinoya smiled. “Did Amari-san manage to get the day off?”

“Yeah, I think he took them to the library and rented a movie for the night,” Chiyo looked down at her outfit. “Honestly, it feels a little weird being here without them.”

He cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Chiyo met his gaze. “It’s just…” She began after a moment of thought. “Every summer, I would take Hotaru and Kaito to the firework festival. You know, just the three of us.”

The realization dawned on Nishinoya and he immediately stopped in his tracks. “Wait, don’t tell me I dragged you away from them or something?!”

Chiyo shook her head. “I was the one who wanted to come, Yuu. Don’t worry about it,” she looked straight ahead. “I just feel a little bad. Like I’m breaking family tradition,” she sighed. “I need to do better as their older sister.”

Nishinoya hummed. “I think you do a lot already though."

“I do?”

He nodded. “I mean you’re way more responsible than my sisters, that’s for sure.”

Chiyo blinked a few times before looking away.

“Thanks.”

After a little more walking, the shooting gallery booth came into view right as Chiyo finished her candied apple. Nishinoya’s face brightened.

“Hey! Hattori-san!” He waved at the old man sitting behind the table who wore a white tank top and straw hat.

“Well!” The old man’s eyes widened and he laughed. “If it isn’t my favorite customer. How are you, Yuu?”

“Same as always! Pretty good!”

“Good, good,” he fanned himself with a Japanese fixed fan printed with the festival logo. “And ol’ Mineo? Where’s he tonight?”

“Grandpa’s out on a date tonight, so it’s just me,” Nishinoya grinned. “Oh, but I brought a date with me too!”

He gestured to Chiyo and the redhead took it as a cue to introduce herself. “Hello,” she lowered her head, albeit a little awkwardly. “My name is Amari Chiyo.”

She couldn’t help but feel her face warm at the fact that Nishinoya referred to her as his date.

“Ain’t that nice? Yuu’s got himself a girlfriend,” the old man chuckled. “Nice to meetcha, little lady. I’m Hattori. Yuu and I go way back.”

Chiyo gave him a small nod and Nishinoya slapped a few coins down on the table.

“Hattori-san, gimme two tries.”

“You got it!”

As Hattori turned around, Chiyo leaned in.

“How did you manage to get all chummy with the shooting gallery guy?” She whispered.

“Gramps used to bring me here every summer,” Nishinoya wasn’t nearly as discreet. “He’s big into town festivals.”

“Yuu was just a little boy when we first met,” Hattori said as he handed Nishinoya an air gun “Wouldn’t stop crying til he won something.”

“I was like three, Hattori-san,” Nishinoya frowned. “And for the record, I still have that Ultraman figure. It’s on my desk at home.”

“I’m honored!”

“Ever since then, gramps always made sure to stop by whenever we come to the firework festival,” Nishinoya then turned to Chiyo. “We’d each take two turns and see who can get the most prizes. It’s kinda a tradition of ours,” he then winked. “So don’t worry ‘bout it. You’re not the only one breaking family tradition tonight.”

Chiyo’s eyes widened. She felt her heart flutter a little as Nishinoya turned to face the shooting gallery. He readied his air gun, aiming down the scope and lining it up with an action figure on the top shelf.

The first and second shots just barely missed the action figure, but the third one managed to hit the masked superhero right in the chest. It fell off the shelf and hit the ground.

“Whoo!” Nishinoya cheered.

Hattori whistled. “Nice job! You have five bullets left.”

Nishinoya then lined his scope up with a box of strawberry chocolate cones. The cork flew out and clipped the side of the box, knocking it down with a light rattle.

“You’re pretty good at this,” the redhead hummed.

“I had a lot of practice,” Nishinoya beamed proudly. “Hey, do you want something?”

Chiyo shook her head. “No, I’m good. Just get something for yourself.”

Nishinoya’s gaze lingered on her for a little longer. “Okay,” he murmured before squatting down, lowering his stance just enough to line his scope with a large cat plush toy on the bottom row.

The first shot whizzed past its ear, but the second one hit it in the left eye. The cat plush rocked back a little and Nishinoya was just about to cheer, but it quickly swayed forward and returned to an upright position.

“I hit that thing!” Nishinoya shouted. “Hey, Hattori-san! You saw it right?”

Hattori let out a hearty laugh. “You know how it goes, Yuu. Gotta knock it over for it to count. You got one shot left.”

Nishinoya frowned. He narrowed his eyes at the ginger cat plush that stood defiantly on the dark brown shelves of the shooting gallery booth. Chiyo watched as he turned back and crouched down into his previous position. He was so focused, even she began to feel a little nervous from the sidelines. It reminded her of his behavior whenever he stood on the volleyball court - calm and quiet.

He blinked a few times and shook out his hand before lining the scope up with the cat plushie once more. Nishinoya took a deep breath and finally pulled the trigger.

The cork flew out of the muzzle of the air gun, hitting the plushie on the forehead with just enough force to knock it backwards. It fell off the shelf and landed on the grass below with a soft thump.

“Alright!” Nishinoya threw his arms up in celebratory victory and Chiyo clapped.

“Good job,” she chuckled as Hattori bent down to pick up the plushie, action figure and box of chocolates.

“Gotta say, you’ve improved Yuu,” Hattori wore a big smile as he handed Nishinoya all of his prizes. “Seems like little Yuu from all those years ago ain’t that little anymore,” he teased, ruffling Nishinoya’s hair.

“You say that every year, Hattori-san,” Nishinoya laughed, accepting the brief yet affectionate gesture. “Thanks as always.”

He then turned to Chiyo and presented the stuffed animal.

“Here ya go!”

“Wait, for me?” She asked and Nishinoya nodded. “Yuu, I told you to get something for yourself.”

“And what I wanted for myself is to get something for you,” Nishinoya replied cheekily. “Come on, just take it!”

Chiyo blinked a few times before glancing down at the cat plushie in her arms. The fur was surprisingly soft, made of some kind of synthetic fibre with ginger and white stripes. Its eyes were large and green, staring at her with an expression that practically begged her to bring it home with her. She pursed her lips and cleared her throat.

“Fine,” she averted her gaze, trying to hide the redness that threatened to set her cheeks aflame. “Only because you went out of your way to win it for me.”

Nishinoya grinned. “Of course, of course.”

“Noya-san!”

Chiyo glanced over her shoulder at the voice, spotting a few familiar faces approaching from the nearby takoyaki stand.

“Oh, Ryuu!” Nishinoya waved at the boy with a shaved head and sharp eyes. “Chikara and Kazuhito too!”

Chiyo quickly recognized them as members of the volleyball team, as well as Ennoshita Chikara, who was a classmate of hers.

She gave him a small neck bow. “Good evening, Ennoshita-san.”

“Amari-san,” Ennoshita shot her a polite smile. “Nice seeing you here.”

“You too. How’s your summer been so far?”

“Pretty good,” he went along with the small talk, ignoring Nishinoya and the bald-headed boy as they made a ruckus only a few feet away. “Are you here for the taiko drum performance too?”

“The taiko drum performance?” Chiyo was a little confused.

“Tanaka’s sister performs at this festival every summer,” Ennoshita explained, briefly eyeing the bald boy. “So Narita and I came along to support them today. It’s the least we can do.”

“Saeko-neesan is super cool,” the boy with short black hair, presumably Narita, said. “She’s brought along her taiko crew to cheer us on at every competition since Spring High last year.”

“Saeko…?” Resting a hand on her chin, Chiyo thought for a moment. “Wait, is she the one with blonde hair that goes up to here?” She held her free hand just above her shoulder and both Ennoshita and Narita nodded.

“Yeah. Do you know her?”

“I don’t know her personally, but I saw her at the interhigh preliminaries this year,” Chiyo explained. “She was yelling at us to cheer louder during your match against Date Tech.”

“Speaking of which, where’s Kinnoshita?” Dropping whatever he was doing with Tanaka, Nishinoya turned to Ennoshita.

“He couldn’t make it,” Narita replied. “I think he’s in Kamakura visiting family.”

“Ah, that’s too bad.”

Ennoshita then noticed the ginger cat plushie Chiyo was carrying. He glanced at the shooting gallery they were standing by, now servicing a mother and her two children and quickly put two and two together.

“Hey, Amari-san,” he called out to her. “Are you here with Nishinoya tonight?”

“Huh?” Chiyo blinked a few times, squishing the cat plushie’s doe-eyed face further into her chest. “Erm… yeah. We’re here to watch the fireworks together.”

“Wait, seriously?!” That quickly derailed their previous conversation as Tanaka’s eyes grew wide. “You’re gonna watch the fireworks together? Like together, together? Did you finally ask her out, Noya-san?”

“Hey, that’s rude,” Nishinoya pouted. “For the record, this is our second date. We already went on our first date like a year ago,” he puffed out his chest proudly. “But yeah, I asked her out.”

“No way!” Narita’s jaw dropped.

Tanaka’s lips tightened into a thin smile that teetered the line of being scary to Chiyo. He stiffly grabbed Ennoshita and Narita by the shoulder and spun them around back towards the Takoyaki stand. “Well, if that’s the case. We won’t bother you anymore,” he said in a sing-song voice. “Come on boys, let’s go.”

Following Tanaka’s very obvious attempt to leave them alone, Ennoshita gave an awkward laugh. He then glanced back at Chiyo.

“The fireworks should be starting soon,” he told her. “You guys should go find a spot for that.”

“Ah, okay,” not knowing what else to say, Chiyo could only nod.

“See you guys!” Nishinoya waved, watching as his friends’ silhouettes disappeared into the crowd before turning to the redhead. “Alright,” he extended a hand outwards. “Let’s go! I know a spot with the best view!”

Chiyo stilled for a moment but she quickly took his hand with a sweet yet bashful smile.

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “Let’s go.”

“Thank you for waiting. The firework show will start momentarily.”

As the announcement played through the speakers, Nishinoya and Chiyo arrived at a riverbank just outside the temple. A crowd of people began to gather alongside them – families, couples and large groups of teenagers, presumably still in the early stage of high school. Chiyo watched as a group of girls much younger looking than her chatted away by the black railings.

“Yuu,” she murmured just loud enough for him to hear. “We’re gonna be graduating soon, huh?”

Nishinoya glanced at her. “Yeah,” he hummed. “How is exam prep going?”

Chiyo shrugged. “The same as always.”

“Have you decided what you wanna do?”

“I… I have a general idea but,” she met his gaze for a brief moment before looking away. “I don’t know.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Nishinoya assured her. “You still have your entire life to figure it out.”

“I know…” Chiyo’s expression gave way to a half-hearted smile. “I know that. But it’s just… scary. I thought I had my entire life figured out. I wanted to set a good example for Hotaru and Kaito,” she let out a half-hearted laugh. “But turns out I didn’t and I feel like I’ve let everyone down.”

It was subtle, but Nishinoya’s grip on her hand tightened ever-so-slightly. “There’s nothing wrong with not knowing,” he said. “Not everyone’s gonna know what they wanna do the second they graduate high school. If anything, I think not knowing and pushing forward makes you even more admirable.”

Though there was still a lingering sourness in her expression, Chiyo smiled. “Thanks,” she whispered. “For everything.”

“Of course! I’m always in your corner, no matter what,” he grinned cheekily. “Even if you’re a baby-eater.”

“A baby-eater?” Chiyo raised an eyebrow. “Where did that come from?”

“You! It came from you,” Nishinoya laughed. “You said that when we first met!”

“Did I?” She gave him an appalled look and Nishinoya nodded.

Chiyo was about to argue when a loud boom echoed across the riverbank. The water beneath them rippled and she turned her head just in time to see a blossom of red and orange bloom against the dark velvet sky.

Then one after another, sparkling trails continued to launch into the sky and erupt in a flashing light. There was blue, purple, green, yellow and pink. The colors shone so brightly they almost felt like daylight reflecting in her eyes.

Chiyo stood there, entranced by the magical view before her. The flickering lights were mirrored in the river below, smelling faintly of gunpowder and smoke as the sound resonated through her entire body like a drum. She felt a light squeeze on her hand and tore her eyes away to meet Nishinoya’s gaze, finding that he was staring at her rather than the brilliance before them.

With that same goofy, love-struck grin, came those familiar words.

“I like you.”

Her eyes widened.

Amari Chiyo was stubborn, but she wasn’t stupid. She realized what her feelings were long before she cared to admit it.

At first, it seemed absurd and Chiyo wondered if Nishinoya’s stupidity rubbed off on her, resulting in such a disturbing revelation. But she soon realized that she did not, in fact, have any loose screws in the head.

At some point in time, she fell for Nishinoya.

Clutching the cat plushie closer to her thumping chest, Chiyo felt her face heat up. She swallowed hard, then opened her mouth. Riding on a certain high, the words began to tumble out of her mouth.

“Yuu, I-!”

A familiar ringtone suddenly blared out, overtaking the booming fireworks in the background as Chiyo suddenly came to her senses and held her tongue. Nishinoya stumbled and began digging through his yukata.

“Shoot, that’s me!” He mumbled, quickly finding his cell phone and checking the caller ID. “Ah, crap. Sorry, I gotta take this.”

“Oh,” Chiyo blinked. “No, go ahead.”

Nishinoya gave an apologetic smile before answering the call.

“Hello? Sato-san?”

Chiyo recognized that name. Sato Akari - one of Nishinoya’s classmates and his assigned partner for the summer history project.

“Sorry, now really isn’t a good time… Yes, I know we need to look over our notes…” Nishinoya sighed. “Look, we’ll set up a time later, ‘kay? I’m on a date right now… Yeah, it’s fine… I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Nishinoya quickly ended the call and shoved his phone back into his belt. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he rubbed his neck awkwardly. “What were you gonna say?”

Chiyo’s lips parted but her voice fell short on the tip of her tongue. She was suddenly reminded of the day when he first confessed to her. He had asked her out so suddenly and with little to no context, she didn’t take him very seriously. Granted, his reasons at the time were as shallow as they could get. But even as he continuously pursued her, she brushed him off with the same mindset, thinking he would eventually get bored and move on.

Yet he never did.

Instead, he faced her head-on with nothing but patience and sincerity.

And now after hearing that brief exchange, a thought sank into Chiyo’s mind.

Do I even deserve to accept his confession?

“I…” Chiyo’s eyes flickered down to her yukata as her drumming heartbeat echoed in her ears. “The fireworks,” she blurted out, meeting his gaze once more with a wistful smile. “They’re really pretty. Thanks for coming out with me today.”

Nishinoya’s face lightened and he grinned as brightly as the fireworks behind him.

“Yeah, no problem!”

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#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagine #hq #haikyuu x oc #nishinoya #nishinoya x oc #nishinoya yuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #nishinoya x y/n #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya x you #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff

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vladdyissues · 8 months

Note

I once read the post where Vlad said: "This anime is obviously a romantic school comedy! Danny and I are the main characters, so it means we are love interests. (to Jazz, Tuck, Sam) You guys are the heterosexual support cast, so make sure do not across the line" (I saved screenshot but Idk how to add photo in ask). Developing the subject, how do you see this anime au? Sailor moon alike relationship? Should it also be a horror cause of creepy natural ghosts?

I've never seen Sailor Moon so I can't comment, but it definitely seems like Danny Phantom was heavily influenced by Yu Yu Hakusho, so it wouldn't take a lot of mental gymnastics to envision an anime version of DP being a lot like this, mixing humor and drama and the supernatural. I'd love to see some actual horror thrown in, though. Animes like Vampire Hunter D and Bio-Booster Armor Guyver come to mind. Guyver's not actually billed as horror, but there's enough body horror, gore, and horror elements in it to qualify, in my opinion. I mean, look at this thing, it's terrifying:

Aside: This ask got me nostalgic for Guyver and I went and watched a few episodes. (The last time I saw it was in the 90s on VHS.) I was floored. There is so much it has in common with DP that I wonder if Hartman wasn't inspired by it as well.

Compare: the black-haired, blue-eyed MC (Sho) who's not the best student, had a disfiguring experience involving something with lots of power and now has two different personas, human and non-human, the latter having incredible strength and unearthly energy that he uses to combat threatening entities that are Not Of This World; best friends are a glasses-wearing geek and a girl who's also the show's love interest, completing the trio. Of course Sho spends a great deal of time protecting his friends, but they also cheer him on from the sidelines and offer help when able, much like Tucker and Sam.

But get this: The only other person with a Guyver armor happens to be the villain (spoiler: not really the villain, it's all an act, and eventually they team up). This is the guy:

Long hair. V-hairline. Sideburns. Thick black eyebrows. The English dub isn't that good, but this guy's voice is deep and nice to listen to. He's supposed to be a student but looks like he's 35.

Anyway. DP anime.

I don't see much changing at all plot-wise. Upping the rating to at least PG-13 is definitely prescribed, so there can be things like blood and fantasy violence and adult humor. Let Danny say "hell", "damn", "bastard", and the occasional "shit", like in YYH. Naturally, Vlad and Danny would start out as rivals before laying aside their differences and teaming up to save the world—which is exactly the formula that YYH and BBAG follow in terms of enemies-to-allies.

I'm imagining a steady progression of saving each other's butts and fighting increasingly powerful enemies until it comes to a point that they both realize they'd die for each other. (Literally Kuwabara and Yusuke lmao.)

In fact, just do a DP/YYH wardrobe swap for all the characters, because Dan Dan Phantom Show is something I'd pay money to see 😂

#asks #danny phantom #danny fenton #vlad masters #enemies to allies #pompous pep #(implied)#yu yu hakusho #the guyver #enemies to friends to lovers #vlad and danny in a literal Kiss Or Die situation lolololol #i would much rather see DP turned into an anime than live action

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wouldntyou-liketoknow · 9 months

Text

Just Another Night at Sparky's

(Disclaimer: Ness/WaiterPat and Jack/Cabbie!Cory are not my creations. I gave Jack his name because he wasn't given one in the movie. Now, one of the characters you'll be seeing here technically belongs to me, but I don't really consider him a full fanego.)

(I was already planning to write for Ness and Jack, but after I learned how Mark was originally intended to play the role of that first security guard who died, I decided to adopt that abandoned character. Go here for headcanons and a more thorough explanation.)

(Certain plot-points in this story were inspired by @flawlessstriker and @insane4fandoms! These two are very talented artists, and I'm not sure I would've thought of such clever/funny easter eggs if I hadn't seen some of their own work, so please go check out their blogs and show them some love!)

(Trigger Warnings: food and drink, eating/drinking, implied trauma, mentions of past violence, mentions of blood, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

In Ness’ personal experience, the people who dined at Sparky’s could be divided into three sections on a metaphorical pie chart.

Twenty-four percent of customers were. . .just a little off. Not like that was necessarily a bad thing, mind you. Working in the restaurant business meant having to interact with lots of people each and every day. At some point, you’d learn to pick up on certain things that were odd in the way you couldn’t quite put your finger on (or, perhaps you just knew deep down that you didn’t want to).

Ness strolled out of the kitchen and into the seating area, expertly balancing a tray on one hand. He approached a couple of bespectacled young women in one corner of the diner.

Their visits to Sparky’s were a bit sporadic, but they never failed to claim that one booth in the corner that no-one else ever sat at no matter how crowded the joint was. The backpacks they always hauled along were positioned further up the booth’s seat cushions, half-open and nearly overspilling with various books.

They always used indoor voices, but he could still pick up bits and pieces of their conversation whenever he was near.

Tonight was no different:

“—he’ll be hungrier than usual,” murmured the one on the left, who boasted short, wavy hair that had been dyed a dark shade of violet. It complimented her shirt, which read ADOPT A FAMILIAR at the top. Pictures of creepy-looking critters were displayed beneath the message, orange-eyed and outlined by blue against the black fabric. “And he’ll need a live one this time.”

“Ooh,” replied the one on the right, who sported a yellow shirt with the screen-printed likeness of some obscure, spikey-haired cartoon character near the collar. A blonde ponytail spilled out from the back of her ball cap. “Who’s it gonna be? The lady whose eyes were found in that jar last month?”

“Nah, she’ll be in some psych ward. Too far-gone to keep on the playing board, y’know?” A sly grin etched its way across Urban Fantasy Nerd’s features. “I was actually wondering if you’d like to choose. Your guy is making the delivery, after all.”

“Ah, that’s right!” Cartoon-Fan snickered in a way that was just a teensy bit unhinged. “I can already see him slipping on some of the blood."

“Third time’s a charm?” Ness asked as he halted, carefully setting this duo’s Usual on the table.

(Two milkshakes: one chocolate, the other strawberry. Yeah, it was kind of basic, but he wasn’t too much of a judgemental guy. Besides, Sparky’s shakes were a much safer option than the lilac-colored drinks that chicken shack around the corner had started selling. And Ness didn’t just carry that opinion because of his employment. During one of his typical night-walks, he’d passed an alley just in time to see said purple beverage oozing through said chicken shack’s windows. The strong, sugary smell wafting off it had reminded him of prion disease.)

The girls both paused. Though they smiled up at him and offered quiet “Thank-yous,” as they moved their respective, sticker-covered laptops out of the way, visible confusion mixed itself into their gratitude.

“For the university’s creative writing contest, I mean,” Ness elaborated. “There were articles in the paper about the last two, and I saw your pictures in the list of winners. Congratulations, by the way.”

“. . .Oh,” Urban Fantasy Nerd answered, exchanging careful glances with her friend. “Yeah. Writing. Let’s go with that.”

“If anyone asks, we were also writing here two months ago,” Cartoon-Fan added with a conspiratory wink. “On Friday, between five-thirty and nine o’clock.”

Ness chuckled, raising one hand to pull an invisible zipper over his lips. “You’ve got it. Enjoy.”

As he retraced his steps to organize some stuff behind the coffee counter, a little voice in the back of his theater-trained head wondered if the girls’ tones had been joking enough. Unlike many times before, he pushed that voice aside.

On one hand, missing person cases did always seem to pop up on the news channels a few days after the two students stopped by to enjoy milkshakes while typing away and occasionally turning the screens of their laptops toward one another.

On the other hand. . .well, those cases were always located states and states away, typically near more seaside areas. None of them had been anywhere close to Utah. (Not yet, at least.)

Besides, even if those girls were somehow connected to more sinister things than their coursework, they were still very nice. Good tippers, too. Nowhere near the worst patrons Ness had served in his time.

The strange customers almost always seemed to come in pairs.

Like the duo of twenty-somethings from last week. One sported ginger hair and a She/They button pinned to their jacket. The soot-stains on said jacket had been very obvious, as were the burn scars on their palms, but she’d still been a delight to make smalltalk with.

The other, a pale young man, had been much more quiet, but still friendly. He’d kept peering through the window at (what was presumably) his or his friend’s car, shakily fidgeting with the headphones around his neck, so it’d taken some time for Ness to realize that his eyes were just as reflective as mirrors.

(For the duration of their stay, the jukebox over by the counter had spat out songs that most certainly weren’t on its index cards. Fine, that might’ve caught Ness a bit off-guard at first, but he still knew to appreciate variety.)

Or the two men who’d come in a few months ago, wearing battered navy-blue bomber jackets and thousand-yard-stares. The one with a dyed-red fauxhawk had screamed and practically leapt out of his skin when Ness came over with menus and his usual greeting, but he’d apologized soon enough. After giving Ness a thorough look-over, that is.

His companion, a similarly dark-eyed man with a larynx that could only be found on seasoned musicians, had muttered, “Don’t mind him. We’ve just. . .had a bit of a rough trip.” His voice hadn’t been unkind, but he’d kept glancing at Ness whenever he thought he wasn’t looking.

Well, perhaps that particular pair had broken the trend a bit. Because a few hours after they’d paid for their food and left, a lone traveler had come in.

His bloodshot eyes—which Ness could’ve sworn were orange instead of brown—had never stopped bulging, never stopped darting this way and that above his rictus of a smile. When he wasn’t speaking, he’d hum or murmur things with a shakiness that was typically found in rabid dogs.

He’d asked for way more coffee refills than could ever be considered healthy, as well as if Ness had seen anyone fitting the descriptions of Red-Haired-Screamer and Wary-Possible-Musician. Ness, following his instincts, had said no, to which the loner started simply shaking his head and grinning with a mouthful of teeth that looked a smidge too sharp.

Or the scruffy man who'd started coming in for breakfast every other week with his young sister in tow. He was living proof that you could recognize someone without officially knowing them. After all, it was pretty damn easy for Ness to remember almost making eye-contact with him, barely moving out of reach of his flashlight’s beam in time, and then having the seconds feel like hours as he watched him shake his head and mutter to himself about seeing things.

It wasn’t like that’d been Ness’ first little midnight rendezvous around Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzaria. Just like how that particular man wasn’t the first security guard who’d gotten dangerously close to spotting him during his unofficial, self-driven investigations.

For the record, Ness knew that said investigations weren’t legal—especially not if you counted some of the things he’d. . .borrowed from the old animatronic jamboree restaurant—but he’d made his peace with that.

He hadn’t been sneaking around there to deal drugs or partake in any himself.

He wasn’t exactly chasing the adrenaline that always came with an evening full of ducking around corners and trying to ignore how loud his shoes sounded against linoleum floors when he rushed to find anything he could feasibly hide behind, underneath, or inside of.

He never meant any harm when it came to snooping.

It was just a simple case of having a little too much curiosity.

Thankfully, Security Guard #13 still had yet to show up at Ness’ place with some accompanying cops, so it seemed he didn’t recognize Ness as anything other than a humble waiter. (Or, if he did actually recognize Ness from that night, then he was miraculously chill enough to not bring it up and get him in trouble.)

The very first time they’d paid Sparky’s a visit, it would’ve been impossible to ignore the distinct smell that had been wafting off of Security Guard #13. It’d had a bite to it; like machine oil mixed with something much more. . .organic.

From that bleak look Ness had seen in his eyes, Security Guard #13 was most certainly NOT what anyone could call unbothered, but he was still polite. Plus, Kid Sister was the type who just deserved all the crayons in the world, what with the little masterpieces she’d decorated the paper menus with.

So, yeah. There was a genuine difference between oddball customers and customers that made you lose some of your faith in humanity.

People who asked for trout to be blended into their yogurt parfait or for their donuts to be topped with slices of pickles that had gathered fuzz from their mysterious journeys at the back of the refrigerator were still easier to handle than people who threw temper tantrums because they didn’t get a refill in under thirty seconds.

Back to the pie-chart—another forty-six percent of customers were perfectly decent and standard.

Plenty of the locals had a soft spot for this joint; Ness had lost count of all the times he’d been told that the pancakes served here were some of the best on planet Earth. Yeah, praise like that technically wasn’t directed at him, but the cooks were great people to work with, so it still made him happy to relay said praise to them.

He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t awkward for someone to confusedly ask if they’d already seen him working at the bar on the other side of town. Even so, that once-a-month occurrence always left him amused rather than annoyed. If anything, it attested to that particular customer’s observation skills.

Sure, he and Sans were identical twins—the fact that their uncle had mixed them up on several different occasions when they were little was still a running joke in the family. But it’d been years since Sans had decided to remedy that via a skeleton face-mask and a dark blue leather jacket, and he’d made a habit to don both aforementioned garments each day ever since then. (Ness was still in partial disbelief that the manager at Grillby’s was cool enough to let Sans wear them over his uniform.)

Just as many of Sans’ customers apparently ended up mistaking him for Ness. Sans got a nice little kick out of that, of course. He hadn’t just been born with a comedic heart—it truly seemed every bone in his body was a funny one. Some people would argue that he just delivered puns upon more puns upon even more puns, but Ness knew his brother better than that.

After all, Sans had been the one to train him to deal with the last category of customers: the thirty percent of entitled neanderthals who thought treating staff as less than human would somehow magically make their miserable lives more interesting.

“Food work is all about balance,” Sans had explained sometime after he and Ness had grown tall enough to take plates and cups from a counter without having to stand on their tip-toes. “You’ve gotta be nice and still let people know that you won’t take their crap. If they’re civil, then you’re helpful. But if they’re rude. . .” Sans had paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “. . .then you have a little fun.”

Ness had always been a pretty fast learner. It’d taken a week or so of practice, yeah, but with his twin’s help, he’d developed a tongue sharp enough to rival any butcher knife in the kitchen.

“You use a lot of big words for a waiter,” snorted a wannabe business bigshot with a wrinkled clip-on tie and a way, waaaaaay over-gelled hairdo that spoke volumes of desperation.

Ness, who’d been explaining the differences between certain ingredients and flavor-enhancing chemicals because Hair Gel’s girlfriend had asked a fair question about the smoothies on the menu, barely batted an eyelid when he came back with, “And you smell a lot like hotdog water for someone who apparently doesn’t work with food.”

“This was the WORST thing I’ve ever put in my mouth!” Exclaimed a woman with an unidentifiable crust caked around the corners of her eyes and an ill-fitting shirt that was advertising some essential oil brand.

“I highly doubt that,” Ness mentioned, raising an eyebrow as he took the plate (which was suspiciously much emptier than when he’d first brought it out) from her table, “but whatever you say. . .”

“Oh! Thank you!” A tiny boy who couldn’t have been older than seven chirped, bouncing in his seat when Ness placed a sundae down in front of him.

Ness had been about to reply, but the boy’s mother—a lady who was trying very hard to look posh (but not succeeding very well due her asymmetrical haircut, as well as all the little green marks around the jewelry she was practically drowning in)—cut him off.

“You don’t need to thank him, sweetheart,” she’d instructed, reaching across the table to corral her son. “That’s his job.”

That one had, admittedly, forced Ness to take a deep breath and appeal to his higher self for a few seconds. Despite this, he’d still made sure to look that Karen dead in the eyes when he observed, “I’m not sure what your problem is, ma’am. But it must be hard for you to pronounce.”

(At least the boy didn’t seem to be too influenced; his bright eyes were nothing but apologetic when Ness came back with the check.)

The relative silence was shattered by the jingling call of that little bell suspended over the front entrance. Ness blinked, his train of thought screeching to a halt. He glanced over in the door’s direction, grinning at a familiar sight.

Another regular; one that Ness got to have actual conversations with on nights like tonight.

Mason glanced around at all the empty tables, brushing back his nearly shoulder-length raven hair and quickly getting the hint that he could just seat himself.

A golden retriever trotted beside him, connected to a leash in his hand via a pink vest that’d been fastened around her shoulders and belly. It was adorned by black velcro straps that read THERAPY DOG in a bold white font. The forest-green sherpa hoodie Mason always seemed to wear was only about half as fluffy as her fur.

Ness ducked into the kitchen. No more than three seconds had passed before the last cook on duty for tonight—a lanky blonde guy who was perhaps the most unapologetically flamboyant foodie you could ever have the honor of knowing—called, “Order Up! Your buddies’ Usuals, fresh from that babbling kiddie pool of oil.”

Dylan set a triad of dishes onto a waiting platter: the first held a stack of waffles (much like Sparky’s pancakes, their recipe was a secret that his very own grandmother had entrusted him with) and fried chicken tenders. The second supported a small mound of bacon. The third was adorned by a couple club sandwiches with a side of mozzarella sticks.

“Thanks, man. Right on time,” Ness called back as he hefted the platter up, balancing it on the anterior region of his forearm like he'd been taught so long ago, and traipsed back out. The door swung to and fro behind him as he headed over to Booth Five.

Though she wasn’t actually in the booth, Checkers was still right by her owner’s side, sitting in a way that could almost remind you of those lion statues guarding the entrance to a Chinese temple. She spotted Ness before Mason did. Her ears perked up, tail starting to wag. Her tongue lapped in and out of her mouth like a party favor as she smiled in that way only dogs could.

Mason, who’d been gazing through the window and fidgeting with his hoodie’s drawstrings, ever-so-slightly flinched as Ness began setting the plates down on the table with a chorus of small clunks. He blinked at the food, as if suddenly remembering the weekly tradition he’d made here.

“How do you always do that?” Mason asked as he turned his head toward Ness, a small smile etching its way across his features.

“Magic,” Ness answered. “Careful, it’s hot.”

He carried the now empty tray back over to the counter. There, his hands became a blur as he snatched up the coffee pot and produced a trio of mugs. After stirring memorized amounts of cream and sugar into the fresh brew, he returned to the table, setting two of the beverages beside the plates.

Ness hovered, his own cup of smoldering caffeine in hand, and glanced around the restaurant. Aside from Mason and those two writers in the corner (who, as Ness had learned, took generous amounts of time with the shakes they always ordered), Sparky’s was empty tonight.

With that in mind, Ness dragged a chair away from one of the other tables, positioning it at the end of the booth. Yeah, he could’ve just sat on the opposite side of Mason, but that part of the booth was typically reserved for another one of his friends.

Subtle relief washed over Ness’ knees as he took a seat; he’d been standing and walking pretty much all day.

Mason plucked a strip of bacon from one of the plates, checking to make sure that it was nice and warm without threatening to burn the palette. He then lightly tossed it over to Checkers, who snapped it out of the air almost like a frog catching flies. She lowered her head as the treat crunched between her teeth.

“How’ve things been?” Ness inquired, taking a sip of his coffee. “The theater’s gotten busy, yeah?”

Mason nodded as he took a fork and knife into his hands, cutting a piece off of one of the waffles and dipping it into the complimentary cup of syrup. “Yeah, it really has. Feels like whenever one movie runs its course and is taken off our roster, two more pop up in its place. Especially now that Scream 3 is finally on the market."

“. . .Oh, that’s right! It is!” Ness ever-so-slightly jumped in his seat. After enjoying the first two movies, he’d been meaning to give the latest installment a look. But so far, whether it was Sparky’s being slammed on the more favorable days or Royal Edgar’s Cinema being too crowded for his liking, things had just kept getting in the way.

Acting on instinct, Ness fished a pencil from one of his waist-apron’s pockets. At first, said pencil might not have seemed like anything special. But then you saw Fabio: a priceless treasure shaped like a rubber chicken’s head covering up the eraser. Ness started spinning the pencil between his fingers, causing Fabio to wiggle as though it was alive.

“Have you seen it already? Is it good? I have so many ideas about where the story could pick up from—”

“Hey, hey. Slow down," Mason remarked with some clear exasperation. “I haven't, but I am scheduled to project its last showing sometime next week. . .” He took a bite out of one of the chicken tenders, humming thoughtfully as he chewed. He must’ve seen the glint in Ness’ eyes, because he offered a sly smirk and lowered his voice as he continued.

“Tell you what: I’ll find a way to sneak you into the projection booth. That way, we can check it out together when the day comes.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?” Ness asked, jokingly clutching his mug in both hands and bringing it close to his heart.

“Sure. It’s really not too different from the customers smuggling their own snacks past the ticket desk,” Mason shrugged, though his mischievous demeanor briefly turned deadpan. “So long as you don’t play detective the entire time. My boss would rip me a new one if I just paused the movie every five minutes to let you brainstorm and talk.”

Ness scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It wouldn’t be every five minutes.”

Mason raised an eyebrow. “You’re right; it’d probably be every two minutes.” He forked up another bite of the waffles, firmly ignoring the offended waiter noises.

“Oh, and don’t try to guilt-trip me out of my food, either. I’ve already got one moocher to deal with.” Mason scratched Checkers’ ears, to which she responded via tilting her head to the side, an undeniable trace of smugness in the warmth of her amber eyes.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Ness pronounced, his voice dripping with much more sarcasm than usual, “but fine. I can work with that.”

“Uh-huh. You’d better,” Mason snorted, reaching over to shake hands with his friend as though the two of them were lawyers who’d just settled on some sleazy business arrangement.

Mason was a complex person. Everyone had issues, and he was no exception to that. Not like he was at all open about said issues, but once you got to know him, you’d start to see them. (Plus, that just seemed a lot nicer than describing him as a swarm of issues shaped like a man.) He was the type to constantly shift in his seat, to give most people the side-eye, to get lost in his thoughts and grimace at nothing until he snapped himself out of it.

At least he seemed content working at the theater. Even with the spark of horror that never seemed to leave his eyes, Mason was clearly a creative bastard. Sometimes he’d bring notebooks in and take breaks from his meal to fill their pages with paragraphs or sketches. He really did seem to have the potential for acting, maybe even directing. If his critiques and commentary on the movies he had to watch from the projection booth were anything to go by, then the projects he could possibly work on would be nothing short of awesome.

He’d actually been one of Freddy’s past security guards. Ironically enough, he and Ness hadn’t met there. Not that Ness minded, since A. if that’d been the case, there probably would’ve been way more confused screaming than there usually was at Sparky’s, and B. considering the fact that Mason’s employment had apparently lasted a whopping one singular night. . .

Ness still didn’t know the full story, and he could tell pressing Mason for info wouldn’t end well. But with the few snippets Jack had carefully enlightened him with. . .well—

Speak of the devil.

The front door’s bell only had about half a second to chime yet again, almost drowned out by rapid footsteps.

“You’re late,” Ness jokingly chastised as he caught dark brown skin and black hair in his peripheral vision. He shifted in his chair, moving his legs to make some room under the table as another one of his regular-friends hurried over to claim Booth Five’s empty seat.

“Yeah, yeah. Sue me,” Jack retorted, instantly propping his elbows on the table to knead at his forehead. It took a few long seconds for him to notice how one of his favorite dishes had apparently been waiting for him. He squinted at the food, then at Ness. “. . .I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to make it tonight?”

“And yet, here you are,” Ness replied, the definition of coy with how his shoulders popped up and down again.

Jack might’ve wanted to ask more questions, but Mason cut him off. “Look, I don’t get it either. He doesn’t know, but he just knows.”

Jack considered this, then tilted his head to convey the type of acceptance that only came when you couldn’t really question things that probably should be questioned because you already had too many things to focus on.

“Thanks, dude,” he murmured, nodding to Ness as he plucked one of the mozzarella sticks from his plate.

Ness nodded back, taking a few more gulps of coffee. “No problem.”

Jack paused mid-bite, eyes darting over to the brew that’d been poured for him. He scrutinized it, then raised the mug up and started chugging like a champ.

The display made Ness glad that he’d taken the time to experiment with coffee so long ago. There was no doubting how he could now calculate exactly how much time it took for coffee to go cold. Yeah, this particular serving had been fresh out of the pot a few minutes ago, but by now it had to be at optimal temperature. Neither scalding nor tepid: just nice and warm.

After about a moment, Jack pulled the now empty mug away from his face, taking a deep breath as he set it back down on the table.

“Rough day?” Ness inquired, specific parts of his brain starting to tick.

Something seemed off.

It wasn’t like he had any room to talk about slight bean juice addictions. And he certainly couldn’t blame Jack for a dependency (especially since he’d even shown some undeniable intrigue at Ness’ argument that coffee was a type of soup). Sure, Jack wasn’t narcoleptic, but when a day-and-night operating cabbie didn’t have access to some perks, things just wouldn’t go well for him or his passengers.

But whenever Jack popped in for a bite and a chat, it was easy to assume that he’d be heading home and going to bed right after his meal. Right now, however, his demeanor was anything but tired. His shoulders were rigid. His eyes were more or less threatening to pop right out of their sockets. In fact, he almost seemed to be weighing the options of never sleeping again.

Jack chewed his lip as he glanced in the waiter’s direction. He slowly nodded. “. . .You could say that.”

Ness exchanged glances with Mason, who had obviously seen the signs for himself. As did Checkers, since she quietly maneuvered around Ness’ chair to rest her head on Jack’s lap, peering up at him with an almost human-like air of understanding. Jack didn’t hesitate to pet the shiny fur along the dog’s neck, to which her tail started wagging but she otherwise remained still.

“What happened?” Mason asked, sitting up a little straighter. “If the vibes you’re giving off got her attention, then it must be something serious.”

Jack grimaced, closing his eyes with what seemed to be more force than necessary, taking a few long seconds to rub at their lids.

“Did you see any rabbit-shaped things out by the dumpster? I think they only come around once a month or so, but I always feel strange if I look at them.” The words glided out of Ness’ mouth and into the air before he could think.

Self-induced humiliation wrapped its awful, clammy hands around his ribcage as two confused glances were aimed in his direction.

“. . .What?” Jack and Mason blurted in near-perfect unison.

“What?” Ness echoed, blinking as his voice instantaneously grew a smidge louder than before. He rushed to plaster his typical, happy-go-lucky demeanor back onto his face, hoping that pretending he hadn’t spoken at all would convince his friends that he actually hadn’t.

Not only did his latest sentence sound weird as all hell, but it’d also been downplayed as all hell. Because when Ness had said strange, what he’d really meant was the pounding, churning, pummeling agony that should only ever be present in your stomach after you’ve accidentally swallowed a few dozen live rats that just so happen to be whacked out on cocaine for whatever godforsaken reason.

And while he wasn’t a perfect angel, Ness would never wish that particular pain on anyone else. So, the fewer people who knew about the floppy-eared cryptids (which Ness could’ve sworn looked like they’d been covered in mucus) that were apparently engrossed in gang warfare with the local raccoons, the better.

“Ah, did you get a bad passenger today?” Ness coughed. Jack had to deal with as many entitled idiots as Ness, if not even more. Hell, taking turns venting about that stuff was something they’d initially bonded over.

He peered through the window next to the booth—Jack’s cab was parked close enough to see that there wasn’t anything to indicate an accident. Not a life-threateningly serious one, at least.

“Not exactly,” Jack replied, following his gaze. Where Ness’ eyes were curious, Jack’s were currently anxious and mistrusting. That was another red flag: Jack may not have treated his taxi like it was his baby, but he still took pretty good care of it. “Just a few more weirdos.”

Mason hummed, tilting his head. “How weird specifically?” He’d heard plenty of Jack’s tales from the road; as he called on Jack for rides somewhat often, he’d even ended up being part of those tales.

Jack knitted his brows, fidgeted in place. “You don't want to know."

“. . .Then why did you make it sound so damn vague?” Mason retorted, now dripping with incredulousness. “The less specific details are, then the more they’re gonna nag at someone’s brain.”

“He’s got a point,” Ness agreed, lightly tapping Fabio’s pencil against his mug.

“Like that’s my fault,” Jack snorted. “Most people wouldn’t believe me if I told them.”

Ness offered an encouraging smile. “Good thing we’re not most people, then.”

Mason nodded. “Damn right. C’mon, Jack; are you really saying something could top the crackhead I had to share the backseat with last month?”

“Yes, I am,” Jack whisper-shouted through gritted teeth, “because it was a bear!”

Silence (save for the soft click-clack of keyboards from the corner of the diner, that is).

Jack pursed his lips, looking equal parts exasperated and worried. He sighed yet again, reaching up to press his fingers against his temples.

“. . .What kind of bear was it?” Ness eventually tried.

Mason, who’d previously been squinting while his mouth opened and closed with no words coming out, turned his head to face Ness with such speed and force that he might’ve actually given himself whiplash. “That’s the first thing you focus on?!”

Ness made a shaky lame gesture. “It’s a fair question! What’re you focusing on?” (He wasn’t wrong. There was a lot of variety among bears, after all. And a bear that lived in the woods and had huge claws and could outeat, outrun, outswim, and probably even outdrink the average person would be a lot more to handle than one of the bears that had attended the latest local Pride parade.)

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you,” Mason declared, returning his attention to Jack, “look significantly less mauled than most people who get close to bears! Seriously, how is your face still connected to your skull?!”

“I didn’t mea—!” Jack was about to go on the defensive, but stopped short. “What, were you expecting me to get ripped to shreds tonight? So damn sorry if I didn’t get the memo!”

“No! Of course not!” Mason contended. “Look, you can’t just say you had a run-in with a bear and leave it at that!”

Jack threw his hands up. “Well, I told you you didn’t want to know!”

“How the hell can we not NEED to know now?” Ness pointed out. Though he was growing just as confused as Mason, he tried to keep his voice even.

Jack gave him an exhausted look before craning his neck to rest his head against the booth’s seat, staring at the ceiling.

“It was a huge robot,” he finally clarified. “Looked like it’d been at the bottom of a scrap heap for years; I’d guess it was older than my dad. But its eye glowed blue like the machines inside it were still working. It made the car shake—I’m honestly surprised the back tires never gave out. And God damn, the smell. . .rust and blood and mucus, I swear!”

Now it was Mason’s turn to go rigid. A tidal wave of emotion seemed to sweep through his features; first surprise, then recognition, and then dread. He placed a hand on the nearest corner of the table as if to steady himself.

“It was wearing a black top hat and bowtie, wasn’t it?” He murmured. It sounded much more like a statement than a question, and the way his tone had become so hollow didn’t help.

Jack lowered his head, clearly unsure whether or not to make eye-contact as he nodded.

“Sounds like the way Freddy was designed. . .” Ness mused without quite meaning to.

Memories of the huge sign that had been built to loom over the old pizzeria’s front entrance flooded into his head. The blinking lights that bordered the establishment’s title and seemed to chase each other around and around and around. The life-sized cutout of the one and only Freddy Fazbear himself, using one paw to adjust his bowtie and the other to wave, seemingly beckoning customers to wander inside.

Those memories dissolved as Ness winced and glanced back at Mason, who was now reaching up with a shaking hand to grasp at his hoodie’s collar, tugging it to cover up the top of an old, deep scar that dragged along the skin of his neck. Ness shuffled in his seat, trying not to stare at how quickly the color drained from his friend’s face.

Checkers was back by Mason’s side in an instant, bracing her paws against the seat as she licked at his face. Mason blinked, a huge shudder rippling through his chest as he hugged his pet.

A few minutes dragged by, feeling like an hour apiece and jeering at the trio as they went.

“So.” Mason finally announced, still keeping his gentle-yet-obviously-desperate hold on Checkers. “Let me get this straight: that. . .that thing got into your cab like it paid rent just a few hours ago?”

Jack pursed his lips, nodding again. “There was a kid with it, too. A little girl. She didn’t even seem scared at all. The whole ride, she was smiling and hugging the bear’s arm—”

“Wait, you actually drove it somewhere?!” Mason demanded.

Jack sputtered. “What other choice did I have?!”

“I mean, that’s kind of literally his job,” Ness mentioned.

True, he was grappling with the fact that he and his friends had apparently been transported into some cheap bizzarofiction novel. And yet, somehow, this wasn’t even the craziest story that’d been relayed to him from a customer. He peered down at Fabio as though it was about to start contributing to this conversation. “Where did you take them?”

Jack raised an eyebrow at Ness (which he guessed couldn’t be helped. Ness already had an idea, but it was rude to just assume, wasn’t it?). “Where else? That old pizza joint you’ve been trying to write an encyclopedia on.”

Mason was about to say something else, but stopped short in favor of turning his shock toward Ness.

Ness raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “Look, I know you don’t like that place, but just remember that I don’t question what you do with your free-time.”

“That’s right. And even if you did, you wouldn’t have to, because I don’t spend my free-time poking around the fourth Circle of Hell!” Mason snarked.

“I won’t lie and say it’s not creepy,” Ness admitted, unable to stop a chill from racing down his spine at the memory of the restaurant’s grimy wall posters, the draft that always seemed to be in the air over there, the disturbingly sour tang of what he’d hoped was just ancient pizza sauce, “but that still seems pretty harsh.”

Mason gawked, fragments of words leaking through his teeth.

“If we’re looking at the bigger picture,” Jack coughed, probably attempting to steer Mason away from a potential stroke, “then nothing really happened tonight. The bear didn’t even make a peep the whole time. I didn’t get hurt, and that girl didn’t get hurt. She even left a handful of change when we got to the restaurant.”

Ness squinted and tilted his head at that. As far as he knew, the rules Jack applied to his cab were pretty lax and basic, but he’d always been firm on never taking money from lone child passengers.

Then again, if the child passenger in question was traveling with a huge robotic animal that apparently had enough sentience to use a taxi in the first place, it was probably best to just go along with whatever happened and leave the sanity-questioning session for later.

Jack fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. “. . .That actually wasn’t even the worst part of tonight’s shift.”

Mason leaned back against the leather seat, looking very much lightheaded. His eyes bulged from their sockets as he furiously motioned for his friend to elaborate.

Jack hesitated before explaining, “Well, once the girl and the bear were out, I decided to just call it a day. After I got far enough away from the pizzeria, I parked by one of the downtown curbs and switched the car’s sign to Off Duty. I was trying to get a catnap in—”

“It’s a miracle you could even try to sleep after that damn bear basically held you hostage,” Mason interjected.

“—when someone knocked on the window. I told ‘em to read the sign and come find me later, but they opened up the door and got in anyway. So, I was about to kick them out and. . .” Jack trailed off, shaking his shoulders as though a few dozen cockroaches had spontaneously taken up nest in his jacket.

“And. . .?” Ness echoed, the curiosity-concern cocktail in his mind getting stronger.

“And there was some tiny doll in my passenger seat,” Jack concluded. “Looked creepy as hell.”

Ness hummed in consideration. “Sounds like it could just be a weird prank? The teens in that area are always following strange trends.”

Jack nervously shook his head. “I couldn’t see anyone outside the cab. It only took a few seconds for me to look; there’s no way anyone could move fast enough to hide after they put the doll in.”

“A tiny doll. . ?” Mason’s brow furrowed in thought for a couple seconds, then promptly returned to its collision course for Mars. He leaned over the table. “Did it have bug-eyes and buck teeth? Was it wearing one of those stupid propeller hats and holding a red-and-yellow striped balloon?”

Jack’s face contorted in confusion as he nodded. “. . .That pretty much sums it up.”

Though his expression was still grim, Mason’s fear quickly metamorphosed into some good ol’ fashioned aggravation. “That’s the bastard,” he seethed, knuckles turning white.

Jack blinked, perplexity slowly overtaking his latest case of heebie-jeebies. “Wait, you’ve seen that thing before?”

“I have, unfortunately.” Mason grimaced. An odd type of adrenaline etched its way across his face. “Is it still in the cab?”

Jack nodded again. “I didn’t want to risk touching it.”The words were barely out of his mouth when Mason rose from the booth and stalked outside through Sparky’s front entrance. Checkers trotted after him, the tiredness of an actual nurse flickering in her eyes.

Ness and Jack basically had frontrow seats to observe their friend approaching Jack’s cab, ripping the passenger-side door open and fishing something out before slamming it closed again.

With that, Mason raced to the edge of the parking lot and proceeded to dropkick what had to be the mysterious balloon-toting doll out of sight.

Despite his shock, part of Ness still felt relieved that Mason hadn’t simply deposited it into the dumpster. Just in case those awful rabbit-looking things happened to be paying a visit tonight. . .

@sammys-magical-au @that-bat @th3w00ds @bee-the-matpat-simp @touyubesposts @crazy-obsessed-enby @i-used-to-wear-the-fedora @holyawesomestitches @s-e-v-e-n-24 @sotogalmo @ciphershadow @deethedustyassdumbass @theechoingmadness @its-a-goddamn-ass-race @zam-witch @box-goat @redd-byrd @icantmakeupagoodname @pleasedontmind-the-emerald @transparentghosty @vegaslvrr @itzqueers-blog @wannabeavocaloidmystery @shivr0ygf @ciara-clycone @not-made-of-actual-rye @m0on-shro0m @imafruitbowl @azure-trash @il0v3mus1cals @v1r-x @kafkaisnotdead @junaslagoon @alicethemenace @ilovenikkisixx @m00nlight-mexican @w0rd3855 @head-without-a-fucking-brain. @unkn0wn-nys @not-made-of-actual-rye @101k-t101 @theonlykala @dividel @riff-is-on-a-fucking-crisis @roselily2006 @max-afton @abe-the-detective-blog @floating-above-sea-level @madhare051

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mirokuna-hime · 8 months

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I was honestly very meh on Acheron before playing the Trailblaze mission and that was largely because of her design. Do we really need another purple woman? I know that she's a Raiden Mei/Ei expy so the color scheme makes sense but she's just another purple in a sea of purple.

I need hoyo to branch out more color wise with rich greens, sunny yellows, bright oranges, greys and actual blues while banning purple as the primary color for at least an entire region.

Anyway back to Acheron. She surprised me. Honestly I was worried she would be simply an edgy rude character. My opinion flipped completely when we met her and she's honestly just being creepy asking all those questions and her text changing color. For a moment I thought I fucked up and would be getting a bad ending.

She turned out to be my 2nd favorite character in Penacony behind Aventurine

#hsr acheron #honkai star rail

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trashlama · 2 years

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ROR (Record Of Ragnarok) headcanons/IDK drabble turned one-shot

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Jack The Ripper

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This is definitely not for kids!

Like if you're under 18 please just turn back. This is 18+ only!

Just to warn you guys, I literally watched this show almost in one night yesterday so bear with me. And then proceeded to write this. It was supposed to just be some headcanons. And then it turned into drabble and then one shot.

Aaaaahhhhhhhhhh

I re-read this thing a couple of times. I tried to search the internet for quotes that would fit. Cause his character is really into quote'in and shit. I'm sorry if it isn't great I don't usually write so I tried my best. I just was filled with so much simpin' juice for this man at the time so I had to write cause I have no confidence in drawing his character with how badass he is.

Please enjoy!

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Really into aura shit

You got a nice aura? Better watch out. He might seek you out for that warmth if it's too similar to his mother's. Before she went kray- kray-.

Brah has a thing for cute shit

Based on his reaction with the Valkyrie chick he Völundr with. He's definitely into Lolita's.

I'm not a hundred sure what else he might be into. I feel like he's into the whole pure thing and wanting to A.) Corrupt it or B.) Cherish it.

Totally see him as a creep/closet pervert

Too much of gentlemen to be straight up creepy, buuutt still manages to push boundaries, tho whatcha gonna do

Brah is V from V for Vendetta but, minus the whole fuck parliament and being a charred turkey whose like woof- woof- for Evee Hamond.

Brah kept giving me flashes back to Batman by Gaslight.(Really good movie, guess what? Fet. Batman & Jack the Ripper. It's some badass shit.)

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Brraaahhh imagine just being some poor samp having to make ends meet in like one of the recognized most shittiest times. And its the dead of the night, walking home after your shift at the pub that ran later than you would prefer. But hey, money is money.

Everything is quite aside from the inebriated stumbling to their choice of den and the ladies of the night who waited on the curbs for potential customers. Preferably the quick and wasted ones.

Although the lamp wicks were burning bright thanks to the caretakers that serviced them. You being a dumb b*tch just trying to get home decide to pull the white girl move in the horror movie and walk into one of many dark decrepit alleys in London that were spread out like a cobble stone labyrinth.

Only to come across this motherfucker while passing through. Humming the London bridge is Falling Down while hunched over something behind one the local comunial waste bins. Obviously whatever it was had the bizarre-o ivory-haired man distracted enough to not notice your initial presence. If you were a normal self-preservation instinct still intact person you would've ran back the way you came.

Buuut that's too easy sooooo, no.

You—, you decide to play Blue's fuckin Clues and go stroll by the dude to see what he dooooin'.(Kinda like when there's a crash and everyone is like yoo I wanna see. But there's traffic so they slow just a little bit down when passing the crash to see what's up. Cause we all nosey b*tches. Don't lie.)

Didn't even take five steps before this crackhead whipped around to see who was approaching. And in the same short amount of time it took the mustached hetero-chromatic eyed dude to analyze your fluctuating aura of emotions. Meanwhile your ass noticed how this dude was fist deep in this lady's guts playin' doctor with a satchel of equipment at his side. Outfit drenched in the same burgundy colored ooze that flooded from the ripped open abscess in the abdomen of the obviously recently deceased women that was prompted up against the corner where the waste bin met the structure.

Before you could even think of back pedaling out of this situation. The pale haired man had launched himself on you. Quick to restrain you against the gross ass cobblestone wall of the ally way. In the right hand a common barbers knife that'd you find in any supplies shop in london—hovered threateningly above the thin skin of your throat. While the other was kept busy planting you against the wall by the roots of your still pinned up hair.

The desire to allow fear course into your veins was strong as you stared trapped in the heterochromatic pools of mania that belong to the person infront of you. Pools of crimson and glacier keeping you pinned. The former of the two holding almost supernatural glow to it. The gleam of it's light piercing through the veil of fog and darkness like the knife he so carefully wielded.

"What's a young maiden like yourself walking around at this hour in a place like this? And without a chaperon?" The mustached man inquired though obviously not out of interest but, amusement. Maintaining the manic look upon his pale aging features as he peered back into orbs of (y/e).

"It is a blind goose that cometh to a fox's sermon." The older gentleman cooed. Warm breath fan across the skin of your face leaving behind goosebumps in its wake.

The guy was definitely creepy.

Though not keen on being a damsel in destress of any kind. Your ass knew you wanted to survive this counter. And no one from the London yard to the hooker you passed on the corner is gonna help you now.

You had three options:

Scream

Fight

Reason

With a blade at your throat you might as well call yourself Marie Antoinette 2.0, if you chose the first option. Fighting with this dude would definitely be one-sided. From the fact that it took him 2.5 secs to over power you and contain you to a single spot. Yeah that's a no-go. And to be honest you weren't a hundred percent sure if reasoning would work on the psycho in front of you. Based off the fact he's staring at you like a mustached Cheshire Cat with a Mad Hatter's attitude. This is one fucked game of perseverance that you wish hadn't walked into.

Your last resort? You weren't completely sure what yet but one thing for sure; the way this night was looking so far this might be your last time underneath the moonlight. You might as well try something. It's not like you have anything left in your life to lose.

As you steeled your resolve in your mind. Your aura told the middle age man everything he needed to know.

At first glance it was nothing special. Just a cesspool of emotions primarily exhaustion and the normal stress that lays beneath every worrisome thought of the future and tomorrow's problems.

He was just going to rip her up like the predecessors that came before her. However, it was when he pinned her to the putride wall of the alleyway that he saw her true colors.

They shifted like a marvelous rainbow. One moment they were a stressful cobalt. The next a surprised cyan. Than a thoughtful calculative lime green.

However resting a deeper emotion sat next to the core in every flash of color. Remaining vigilant against an invasion from outside forces that threaten to penetrate the brigade that kept them at bay. Was a spec of regretful indigo. There it sat safe guarding the very thing that created its very being. So the same thing wouldn't happen again.

The array of sensitive colors dazzled his senses. The alternating emotions keep his interest peeked and the knife from laying any more pressure on your artery. His receptors in his nerves soaking up the vivid feelings like a dry sponge in the bath water. However unlike the sponge, his body just craved more.

He wanted to see the violet purple. The despair fill her heart. It was his favorite thing.

Swallowing a thick glob of saliva your (y/e) irises began to what you think is nonchalant but, isn't very chalant— scanning your surroundings. Looking for an opportunity to present itself despite the current obvious disadvantages. -cough- knife at your throat -cough- head at risk being slammed -cough-.

The creepy-ass grin from the creepy-ass man in front of you didn't help easing any tension in the little space between you two.

" Sir I nought know why you're doing this but, please allow me to pass onwards on my path. I cannot convict you. I don't even know your name nor what you look like." You reasoned (y/e) eyes filled with earnestness and your soul mirroring the same in a vivid courageous orange and a trepidious magenta.

Eyes trained with one another never breaking for a moment. Not even when his hand with the knife pulled away and was swiftly replaced with the left grasping your windpipe.

He hummed amused with your statement. How foolish you were to think ignorance could save you from your sealed fate.

" How rude of me..." He began.

Successfully instilling even further the threat that was to her life tonight. Not the drunktards who came in on a regular. Not the slim shit wages that barely kept her afloat. Not cholera(that one is a joke because of the time period and where they're at).

The mustached man right in front of her.

Typically he just kills whores. The women who remind him the most of his mother. Though if their soul shines a true brilliant viscous scarlet.... he doesn't mind making an exception or two. After all at the end they all become such a beautiful violet before it ends in white.

Taking an actual intake of her appearance she was certainly not a prostitute. Her bosom was properly strapped down by the corset underneath the fabric of her appropriately length dress that clung to her desirable frame. No cheap lard products to cover her natural appeal.

Only upon closer exception does he notice the faintest of a tan line from a band that has long since been removed.

A ring.

There had been a martial union and as evident with the lack of a band clasped around her dainty finger. It has been terminated. Divorced. Day-old goods that no one wants to touch.

The absence of it told him she had no one to return too.

That she was also abandoned.

That she was free for the taking if he pleased.

But, unlike most Lodon's fine selection of men. Jack actually did have manners.

And a criteria.

And before taking her in he needed to test her.

Can't have distrust in a budding relationship now can we?

" My name dear unwanted maiden is.... "

Hands like snakes from Garden of Paradise enclosed around your tranchea . Effectively sealing away the opening for the air to travel into your lungs.

"....Jack,..."

Cheshire Cat grin stretched across his pale complexion. The insanity in his eyes burning red hot like the poker in the fire.

"... Jack The Ripper! " He said with a joyous glee. Finally leaning in close enough that you could finally make out his full features.

"Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest"

Pools of (y/e) widen with surprise as they maintained the direct line of eye contact with the killer who has been stalking the streets of White Chapel.

Tears fell from (y/n) sockets. Not out of fear or the tragedy of your death. But rather the hurt of knowing you'll never get the chance to have a family.

I'm sorry this next part is ridiculously darker than the rest of this one shot/drabble. IDK how I went down this path but, just warning the next part includes talks of divorce, implied inf@cide, implied ch!ld murder, mi$carriage, oh and I almost forgot just dap of pedo alert.0

Please continue with your own discretion!!!

Since the start you never got to have that family. You never knew your parents. They had left you at an orphanage. Lucky for you that they had room to spare. Most became water logged coffins sealing away the babes from undesirable fates.

It wasn't sunshine and rainbows at the orphanage. You had to pull your weight from a very young age. Those who didn't contribute didn't get food, those who resisted got sent away, anyone who didn't listen came back from lectures with welts and concussions. You pick and choose your battles. And you chose them very carefully for the first fifteen years.

Until you felt the need to defend yourself against one of the caretakers who wasn't so noble. You had shed first blood the summer before. And ever since had been on the edge due to prying eyes and wandering hands.

That summer you left the orphanage and headed to London. Hear say from villagers say all the jobs are in the cities now. Thanks to the Industrial revolution offering more opportunities than ever before.

You had gone. Worked at a textile plant for some time until you met your first husband. And became pregnant with your first kid.

....only to lose the fetus three months later due to the stress your body was under. Children take so much. Even before their born. The nutrients get sucked from the marrow and slowly you lost the battle.

Your husband blamed you, and you did too. You tired, tried, and tried. But, they just couldn't be kept.

It wasn't even a two years later that your first husband divorced you.

You always wanted to be able to try again. To have that child to love and hold, to cherish unconditionally like you wished you had been.

Though staring into those mix-matched pools of insanity. In one last attempt to not give into the fear of the impending end. You thought one last time about your dream.

Jack was both pleased and mystified

Instead of the violet purple he saw within most of his victims. He found a light source that resembled the embers that kept the Londoners warm through the ruthless winters. An eradecent hue that blend yellow and pink into what can only be described as a hug to the senses.

Relaxing and comforting. A guiding light to ease one to rest.

"And light is mingled with the gloom, And joy with grief; Divinest compensations come, Through thorns of judgment mercies bloom In sweet relief ".

Slowly hands like steel latches released their grasp from around your neck. Skin already blossoming with bruises in the shape of handprints.

Without the support holding you up your body slid towards the alley way floor to only be scooped up into Jack's arms, as if weighing nothing more than a few sheets of paper.

"There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand."

Too exhausted to fight off Jack's tight embrace between the near death experience and the shift you had worked before ever traversing down this alleyway.

(y/e) drifted shut as you listened to Jack whisper sweet quotes of adoration as he took you away. Going only gods know where.

"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind. Nor hath love's mind of any judgment taste; Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste: And therefore is love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd."

As the morning sun rose above the thick pea soup fog. Londoners would be too enthralled in the newest victim of the ripper to notice that there was another woman that the ripper had stolen. With no body to be found.

The five quotes here are quoted by(as in order of appearance)

John lyly

William Shakespeare

John Greenleaf Whittier

Mary Shelley

William Shakespeare

My other fur-baby is fed up with me editing this thing.

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