#or maybe she was normal and I was anxious

[yapperblog]

Part 2 of cafe worker!Joost x fem!reader

Part 1

Tags: smut, making out, semi-public, handjob, blowjob.

Explicit RPF below, don't interact if you are not comfortable with that; +18

You feel nervous walking down the same path you always take. Why are you nervous? There was usually a feeling of excitement to unwind, to see the sexy Internet Cafe employee – stifling your giggles who will he scold for breathing too loud this time. But now your palms are sweaty the closer you get to that familiar door.

After your first hookup with Joost, you haven't talked much. You got busy with work, and when you were able to visit the Internet Cafe, he seemed to be busier than usual, new customers keep flooding in. You would catch him for a couple of minutes of casual conversation by his desk, like he hasn't rearranged your guts in this same place. He would also come up to you ask about your day, the first time he did it, it made you blush furiously not having expected it from him. Other than that, you were short with each other and the timing wasn't right. Plus it has been almost a week since your last visit, probably the longest you haven't been in that place. So, all those thoughts piled on top of each other, you were feeling extra anxious to see him.

Today however you were determined to have a proper conversation. You are down to keep it casual, if he doesn't want anything serious, but you need clarity – it has been driving you crazy not knowing what he thinks about that night, does he regret it, does he want anything more?

Once again, you open the door, familiar sounds and smell greeting you, as well as a pair of blue eyes lingering in your direction. Joost smiles at you, as you come over to his desk.

"Hi you." he says, still smiling.

"Hi." It throws you off how cheerful he is, the usual scowl nowhere to be found.

"Haven't seen you in a while." his attention is still fully on you, on a normal fay by that time he was already back to typing on the computer. "Thought you went to the competitors. Maybe some other Internet Cafe has opened up." he tries to joke.

You stare at him silently and burst out laughing, the previous tension and anxiety simmering down. Maybe he is in the same mood to figure things out between you finally.

"I wouldn't dare." you lean in closer over the desk.

"That's right." he doesn't look away, matching your eye contact.

You reach for your purse to get the cash for the computer, but he stops you. "It's on the house today. Loyal customer and all that."

You look shocked at him, "You don't have to do that, but thank you." you mumble, a blush creeping up your cheeks again. He seems really happy to see you again. "All I had to do was the bang the employee? Should have done that sooner." you whisper to him making sure it is only for his ears.

"Shut up." he barks a laugh. "First computer on the second row is yours." he points in the direction of it.

"Wait, how does she get to use it for free?" a customer who just walked in behind you asks.

"None of your business." Joost is back to his usual demeanour, his eyes a reflection of being bored of the customer. "How can I help you?" he asks the guy.

You have finished the most important work you needed to do, looking up at the clock, you notice it is past midnight already, most of the customers went home, there is only you, Joost and a couple sharing a computer on the opposite side.

"Sir?" you call out in Joost's direction. "There is something wrong with this computer, can you check?"

His head immediately turns in your direction. "Um, sure." he walks up to you.

You point at the error which popped up. You know how to fix it yourself, and from the look he gives you, you are sure he knows that too. But plays along, catching up to your game. "Yes, let me check." he moves from standing next to you to reaching over behind you for the mouse and keyboard. His hand is covering the mouse over your hand, his skin feels starching hot on yours. His breath close to your ear, your stomach tightens over the simple close proximity to him.

"You are so good at this." you tell him, your voice innocent.

"Am I?"

"Yeah." you turn to face him, but he already fixed it and straightens up, leaving you so lonely.

"Thank you." your voice is quiet.

You finish the rest of your work and notice the couple has left. After waiting a couple more minutes to check if no one else comes in, you stand up and head towards Joost's desk. He is busy typing away, you linger next to him, when he finally looks up.

"Can we talk?" you ask tentatively.

He looks around the room, noticing it's just you left.

"Sure." he gives you his full attention now. "What happened?"

"Well. Nothing really, but that is the problem." you say not looking at him yet, mindlessly moving the things around at the top of his desk. "I know we don't each other yet, maybe the hookup meant nothing to you." you continue, he tries to interrupt, but you motion for him to wait. "But I would like to get to know you, move things forward. I do care about you more than just random sex, but I can't tell if you feel the same about me. You are kind of hard to read." you finally look up at him. He is looking at you intently, listening carefully to your confession.

The silence falls heavily between you, it weighs on you. Did you read this situation completely wrong, does have want nothing to do with you, before you can spiral any further, you hear his voice. "I also want to get to know you. Sorry if I left you in the unknown, I didn't mean that. I also didn't know if you want anything more. I was also so busy here, I am sorry." he says. "When you didn't come on your usual day, your usual hours-"

"You notice when I usually come here?"

"Ofcourse." he meets your eyes.

"I would love to ask you out on a date." he confesses. "Would- Would you go on a date with me?" he is also nervous, like you. It makes your heart melt.

"Yes."

Joost's gaze softened, his eyes roaming over your face with a mix of tenderness and barely concealed desire. You walk around the desk, his eyes following your every move, he starts to stand up, but you push on his shoulder to keep him sitting down. You stand in between his legs and reach out to fix his hair, brushing the fallen out of place strands. You notice the dark circles under his eyes, he works so much. Your hand slips lower, tracing his cheekbone, his skin warm under your palm. He nuzzles closer to you, his eyes darken, not used to such tender touches, but unable to tear himself away from the way you looked at him.

"Is this okay?" you ask him. So careful, the time feels like it has slowed down between you two. A contrast between how the first time went. "Yes."

You move to sit on his lap, he lets you, wrapping his hand around your waist, settling you in more comfortable, as he shifts under you.

"I really thought I might never see you again." he confesses, his voice barely audible, but you hear him.

Reaching up, you let your fingers graze the stubble on his jaw, caressing his cheek as you hold his gaze. “Kiss me, Joost,” you whisper, your voice a soft, desperate invitation.

Without another word, he closes the distance, his lips finding yours in a gentle, unhurried kiss. There is no urgency, only a steady, deliberate affection that conveys every unspoken emotion he’d held back. His kiss is soft and careful, full of warmth, he is tentative, but you lead him, showing you want him as much.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, and you both share a quiet, contented breath, wrapped up in the warmth of the moment. But the tenderness only fuels the lingering desire that had simmered between you both, and with a sudden burst of confidence, you grasp the collar of his shirt, pulling him back to you.

This time, the kiss deepened, your lips moving in sync as the restraint melted away, giving way to something more fervent, the Joost who likes to take control shining again. His hands grab your waist even harder, pulling you closer, his fingers splaying against your back. The gentle intimacy turns heated, your mouths exploring, you open your mouth, letting his tongue tease yours. You can feel his breath hitch as your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, he groans against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

You try to pull away, but he chases you leaning in, not ready to separate yet, "Come here" his voice is low, breathless too, as he catches your lips in a kiss again. His hands slid down to the small of your back, then lower, gripping your thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. His hands roam over your body, sliding along your curves, his touch sends shivers down your spine, like it's the first time being alone in this room again. However this time you are sure he wants you as much as you want him. You gasp against his mouth, a sound that turns into a soft moan, each sound coming from you pushing him closer to the edge of his composure. His tongue slips past your lips, exploring, tasting. Every brush of his tongue against yours sent a surge of heat pooling between your legs, each movement building the need that pulsed through you.

Joost shifts under you, and you feel his hardness pressing against you, undeniable. Your lips begin to wander, trailing a path from his mouth to his jaw, where you lingered, pressing soft, teasing kisses that made him shudder under your touch. You can feel the subtle stubble against your lips, the warmth radiating from his skin as you move lower, planting slow, lingering kisses along his neck, tasting the faint hint of his cologne mixed with his natural scent. Paying extra attention to the Lola Bunny tattoo on his neck, you hope to become friends with her and see her more often.

Each kiss seems to draw a deeper, ragged breath from him, his chest rising and falling as he leans into every touch, unable to hold back the quiet sounds of pleasure escaping his lips. You find it intoxicating, the sound you are able to pull from him. You let your hands roam freely, exploring the strong lines of his shoulders, fingers tracing down the curves of his chest. His pulse beats beneath your touch, quickening with each passing second. He swallows hard, his breathing growing heavier as you continued, savoring every inch of him.

"You are driving me crazy." he says, as you continue to kiss along his sensitive spot.

"You look so good like this." your words go straight to his dick. "I can't believe I finally get to have you like this."

"Fuck, baby. Don't say shit like this, I might just cum in my pants." he confesses tilting his head back, giving you even more access, closing his eyes, clearly enjoying your actions.

"Maybe I would like that." you let your fingers slide down his torso, tracing every line and curve of his body with deliberate, teasing slowness.

"What? Me cuming my pants?" his opens his eyes to look at you. You look up at him grinning, your hand finally reaches the waistband of his boxers, and you press your palm against him. "You are evil."

"You don't like that?" you remove your hand from him.

"Nonono." he repeats, putting your hand back right where it was. "I do." his breath hitches, a deep, guttural sound escaping his throat as he instinctively pushes into your touch, his fingers digging into your waist.

"I am enjoying myself too." you murmur, palming him gently, feeling his arousal grow beneath your hand, hardening with each brush of your fingers. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Joost. I wanted to know how you’d feel like this,” you admit, voice a mix of admiration and desire.

His hands roam your back, pulling you closer, his breathing growing heavier as he looses himself in every touch, every word you murmur against him. "More, please." he pleads, looking in the direction of the door. The cafe is still open to the public. It has been a quieter night than usual, but there is still a possibility someone might stumble in, but he is ready for the gamble, knowing you are too.

"God… that feels so good,” he gasps, as he looks, his expression a mixture of awe and arousal. His hands roam up and down your back, and you can feel the effect of every touch, every word, as his breathing grows heavier. "You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice rough as he presses a kiss to your temple, his words urge you to move your hand around his cock faster, encouraging every word. “Been wanting this… wanting you… for so damn long.” He buries his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin as he speaks, his voice shaky, every word spilling out in a way that only fueled the fire between you.

"Seeing that guy ask you out,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear, “it drove me crazy. Couldn’t stand it. I wanted to kill him for touching you” He pauses, lifting his head to look into your eyes, his gaze raw, vulnerable, every wall he’d built around himself now shattered. “I’ve wanted you like this… needed you like this… for so long.”

Hearing him say it out loud, the desire intertwined in every syllable, makes your head spin. Feeling he is fully hard under you now, you slowly sink to your knees in front of him, his mouth falling open slightly at the realisation what you are doing for him. You maintain eye contact with him, as you feel the carpet dig into your knees, but you don't care, not when he looks at you like this.

"Fuck... you don't have to." he says, putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I want to." you say, and reach for his belt. "Do you want to?"

"Yes." he says it way too quick and it makes you giggle. He helps you undo the belt, lifting his hips to take off his pants.

You palm him through his underwear again, enjoying the delicious moan from him. You motion for him to take them off and he does. "Good boy." you purr and you swear you can see an actual sparkle in his eyes. Who would have thought the mean Internet Cafe employee, who everyone is so scared of, would be melting under your palm at a few words of praise. His cock jumps free from the confines of his boxers, but you don't give it the attention it craves so much. Not yet. Your hands drift up, playing with the hem of his shirt, your nails grazing his stomach lightly, sending a wave of heat coursing through his veins. A sharp exhale escapes him before he can stop it, his muscles tensing under your touch.

After feeling that you've teased him enough, you take his dick in your hands, the tip an angry shade of red, pre-cum spilling from the anticipation. Mixing it with your spit, you start to stroke him. You pay attention to alternating in pressure, swiping your thumb over his tip every time you passed it. Then you nuzzle against it, pressing soft, lingering kisses along the side, your warm breath sending another shudder through him. You are savoring every inch before you begin. Only then your lips part, and you finally take him in. The first flick of your tongue sends a sharp jolt of pleasure up his spine. He has to grip the desk, not to push his hips. Your lips wrap around him, slow and firm, dragging along his length with precision.

"Feels so good." he borderline whines looking down at you. "Keep going please." his hands find the back of your head, not pushing, just wanting to feel you.

Your tongue glides firmly along the underside, tracing every vein, your movements deliberate as you circle the tip before taking him in your mouth again, your lips stretching around his girth. The lewd sound of your lips smacking around you loud in the empty room, making his stomach tighten. You look up at him innocently, as you take more and more of him, your warm and wet mouth mixed with the view makes him almost lose his mind and cum on the spot. He has to lean his head back and concentrate not to end it too soon.

You are however relentless—taking him deeper each time, your spit slicking every inch of him. You bob your head with a slow, steady rhythm, a mix of suction and slippery, messy tongue work that makes his breath stutter.

Suddenly there is a noise of a door opening. His hand on your head gripping your hair, motioning for you to stop. You do, still with his cock in your mouth, you feel him sit up straighter, fixing his hair. There are footsteps coming closer, but luckily they can't see you from your position under the desk.

"Hello, can I print out a few things? Is there a working printer?" an unfamiliar voice asks.

Joost clears his throat. "Hello, yes. It's over there. How many copies?" his voice trying to hide the fact that your soft mouth is still wrapped around his length cockwarming him. The customer goes on a long tangent telling a story how the past few places had trouble with printing and he is walking all around town trying to make a copy of a document. Joost hums in approval listening to his story, one of his hands still wrapped tightly on your hair, making sure you don't get an idea of teasing him.

The customer walks over to the printer. "Call if you need any help." Joost tells him. You hope the customer can do it on his own.

As the footsteps grow quieter and further away, Joost releases his hand from your hair. You move away from him as quietly as possible, leaning your head on his thigh. He looks down at you, pressing a finger to his slips motioning for you to stay quiet and you nod.

You can hear the printer beeping and the customer settling in behind the computer. After awhile you start to get bored, as Joost got back to typing on the keyboard, probably pretending to work not to give away what was happening before. You start to press soft kisses along his thigh. He doesn't stop you, so you continue doing it almost with no sound, the buzz of the printer also helping to hide any noise. You get bolder and bite him, although not hard enough to produce the noise that comes out of him – too loud for how light the bite was. You lick over the spot, he looks down at you with raised eyebrows and you smile apologetically.

"Everything ok?" the customer asks.

"Oh. Yeah, all good." Joost replies. His voice shaky. "Just, um, you know, looking at prices. They seem to bite for real nowadays." the customer laughs at that and agrees. The printing noise continues.

You have to cover your mouth not to laugh at him too. After giving him a few minutes to recover, you continue pressing kisses along his thigh, inching closer to his neglected cock. He stiffens in his seat, but doesn't stop you, so you go further. You ghost your lips over the sensitive skin along his shaft, licking at the tip. His grip tightens over the mouse. You take him in your mouth, building a slow rhythm, not swallowing him too deep to avoid the noise, but enough to tease him. His breathing grows heavier and his big hand finds the back of your head again, his fingers weaving through your hair.

"Fuck. Stop stop." you hear him whisper quietly.

"All done?" you hear Joost say.

"Yep. Thank you so much." the customer replies. "Are you...alright?" he asks tentatively after a pause.

"Yes, I am totally fine. Tired probably. A long shift." he says with no waver in his voice, which makes the guy believe it, not wanting to ask any more questions.

The customer pays and you hear him leave.

"Shit." Joost exhales, his body relaxing. You are also glad he is finally gone. "You little devil." he looks down at you again. He brings you up from under the table and leans down to meet you halfway for a kiss. He groans still tasting himself on your mouth, he tilts your head to deepen the kiss, his cock twitching when you reach out to touch it. You break the kiss, "So sensitive." you whisper against his mouth.

"Get back to work." he leaves one last kiss on your lips and you take your place between his legs. There is a sense of urgency in the air, hoping no one else comes in.

You spit on his tip again, slow and deliberate, watching the saliva trail down before you gather it with your tongue and take him in your mouth once more. You deepen the rhythm, your mouth molding around him, your cheeks hollowing as you suck with more urgency, a wet, obscene symphony filling the space beneath the desk. The slick sounds grow louder, more obscene, as spit pools and dribbles from the corners of your mouth, coating his length in a messy sheen.

You take him to the base, your throat clenching around him, a loud moan leaving his lips, before you pull back, eyes fluttering your breath labored. You let another thick strand of spit fall, your fingers smoothing it down as you stroke him with both hands, your grip greedy, insatiable. Then go back in, your nails digging lightly into his thigh, steadying yourself, like you're getting lost in it. You feel yourself get wet, your clit pulsing steadily, listening to his moans, watching his face scrunch up in pleasure, his heavy hand on the back of your head.

"You like it, huh?" he asks, his chest heaving up and down. You hum around him, the vibrations sending an additional wave of pleasure for him. "So pretty on your knees for me." he brushes away a tear, which falls down your cheek.

He presses you down just a little more. "Can I do this?" he asks and you moan in approval, nodding. Your throat tightens as he pushes you deeper, the tip hitting the back of your throat, making you gag around him. He keeps you there for a moment, his eyes closing in pleasure, "Fuck.." he exhales and lets go off you.

You wrap your hand around his slick length. Your strokes are slow, loud, your fingers working him with a deliberate pace. Looking up at him from under the desk, you look utterly wrecked—lips swollen and slick, spit trailing down your chin, eyes glassy and dark with hunger. He thinks you look like a dream, he is already planning the date in the back of his head, he wants to wake up next to you, he even imagines growing old with you, which he never did before. You pant softly, your breath shaky, as both hands work him with slow, messy strokes, your fingers coated in the evidence of your own devotion.

His thighs tremble as you keep stroking, your grip firm, fingers gliding over his slick length with a slow, almost lazy confidence. His breath is uneven, hot, moans slipping past his lips, same as your own, as if you are lost in the act itself, dazed by the sensation of having him in your hands. Your palm twists just right as you drag it up and down. Your eyes stay locked on his, a smirk on your pretty face. You lick over his tip and wrap your lips around him, sucking, bobbing your head up and down.

His body tenses as your throat tightens around him, your free hand rolling his balls in your palm as you move up and down with an unrelenting pace. Your movements are fast, ruthless, each descent pushing him deeper into your throat. His moans turn breathier, more frantic. Your tongue presses against the underside, rubbing against that sensitive spot as your lips stretch around his girth. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, spit dripping from your chin, but you don't stop determined to take him to completion.

His head tips back, mouth falling open in a loud moan as his hips jerk forward involuntarily. Pleasure crashes over him like a tidal wave, blinding, unstoppable. His muscles go taut, as he cums deep inside you, and you moan around him, swallowing greedily as if you're desperate for every last drop. The thick warmth shoots down your throat, and you take it all effortlessly, your lips sealed tight, sucking him through every wave.

You take your mouth off of him, your own breathing heavy. You leave a few more kisses on his thigh, helping him come back to his senses.

"That was... incredible. You are incredible." he says, pulling you back onto his lap. He takes a tissue from his desk and wipes gently at your lips.

You lay your head on his shoulder, as he puts his pants back on and wraps his hands around you. "Can I take you home? My shift ends soon." he asks carefully, nervously.

You lift your head looking up at him. "Yes."

He did take you home and fucked you until you couldn't take his touch anymore, his attention fixated on your pleasure alone. And you kept coming back to his place, months later it becoming a part of you, as much as it is for him. Your lives gradually intertwining more and more, learning how to be the best for each other.

You hear your alarm clock go off, reaching out to turn it off. Joost groans beside you, he only recently came back home after his shift, but it is already time for you to start getting ready for work. You feel his arm wrap tighter around you, his chest pressed tight around your back, as if he could be any closer to you.

"I need to get up, Joost." you try to peal yourself off of him.

"Just 5 more minutes, please." he feels like he hasn't gotten enough of you yet. He always feels so cold without you in his bed. He can't even remember how his life was without you in it. Your warmth seems to have fix everything.

He nuzzles closer to you, burying his head into your neck. You turn in his embrace, kissing him slowly, he immediately reacts and returns the kiss.

"How soon do you have to leave at the latest?" he asks.

"We have like.. 10 minutes max." you say. You really can't be late again. It is always the same with him when it is a night shift for him – he comes back late, you have to leave early. He wants to cuddle for 5 more minutes, which turns into something more, but you don't complain, you can't get enough of him too.

"Perfect." you feel him smile against your neck.

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

Poppy Playtime: True Ending (all toys saved, all secrets founds)

Synopsis: Angel saved all the toys inside PlayCo, and is now sitting outside waiting for the authorities to appear. What will happen now? Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Story is in 2nd person but Angel is their own character here. THIS HAS NOT BEEN PROOFREAD SO THERE WILL BE ERRORS. Have fun, byeee.

You are shaking.

Granted, this is the first time in the last two weeks that you aren't trembling due to fear of being killed or due to the cold, but anxiety. You're scared, still riding off adrenaline and without any idea of what could happen now, and you are certain that in any moment, you'll end up dropping unconscious on the floor. And yet, you don't. You cannot, really, considering your situation.

You take a deep breath, the smell of smoke filling your senses. Despite your best efforts, your hands are still dirty with dried blood.

Dogday lies against you, eyes turned towards the Sun. His white pupils seem to be sparkling in amazement; this is the first time in more than a decade that he has seen the Sun. Maybe two, who knows, you're too tired to do the math. You scratch his head, but he doesn't look away from the sky. The beautiful open sky. You had taken it for granted a few times in your life. Only a few. Never again. Never again...

Kissy is on your right side, anxiously holding your arm. Poppy is on your lap, still holding your Nokia phone and telling the kind 911 operator of your situation. You wonder how anxious she would be feeling if you were the one talking there... She was at the verge of tears before speaking up. "Understood, miss", she tells the second normal human she ever interacted with in the past decade. "Please warn them to be careful, we went through a lot and don't want to deal with even more".

You scratch her head. Huggy is next to your rundown car, on the other side of the parking lot, the mini critters and wuggies running around. Some of them grab the leaves and jump at the newfound texture. Others try digging in the dirt. One of them points at the car and ask each other how they can disassemble it. Catnap, standing right next to them, shakes his head. "This belongs to our Savior".

Baba is also sitting next to you. She watches over the mini nightmares debating over something you don't fully understand, as some of them climb over Catnap. He doesn't mind the act. Doey, on the other hand...

You stare at him. Little Simon is still sleeping on his arms, too anxious to join the others. Doey adjusts his own hat, his eyes going from corner to corner, especially towards where the little ones of Safe Haven are. Marie is taking good care of them, sitting on the concrete floor as they analyze flowers. Delight is next to her, tilting her head in curiosity as a centipede crawls over her hands, eyes sparkling. "This is fascinating!", she announces, happily stimming with her feet.

"... Doey?"

You reach your hand to him. He flinches before blinking, taken out of his trance. Upon noticing your worried stare, he forces a smile on his face: "I'm okay, Angel, no need to worry about me".

"And what about the other two?", you ask again, not letting go of him.

He's once again caught off-guard. You thought that by this point, the three kids would have gotten used to being equally acknowledged. Guess there's still work to be done, but we'll be alright. We have time, now. Just enough time.

"We're fine", Kevin grunts, looking away.

"Just tell me when it's too much, alright, kiddos? Don't want the sirens to scare you guys. They sound similar to the stuff back at PlayCo."

"I said we're fine", and there goes that familiar growl. "Shoosh, leave them".

"Matthew, let Kevin speak. It's okay for him to be upset".

"We can't scare the others"

"The others would like for all three of you to speak a bit", you reply, shaking your head. "Including Jack. Is he alright?"

"...", Doey shakes, before timidly nodding and fidgeting with his hands. "... I am".

You give him a smile. Dogday bumps his head against his shoulder, and Jack relaxes, his tense body softening. He repeats the gesture towards the critter, confirming that he'll be alright.

Pianosaurus and Yarnaby then bump their heads against your legs, both of them with plants hanging out from their mouths. Poppy jumps on your lap: "Thank you for the... Bouquet", you tell them, accepting the offering. Yarnaby purrs as a response, sitting on the ground. "Ollie, ya okay, kid?"

The baby long legs stares at you with that very, very energetic look of his, wrapped around a blanket and shaking in his lone seat next to yours. "It's fucking cold", he growls, grumpy as ever.

"Language!", Dogday warns him.

"We're not inside PlayCo. anymore, we can say whatever we want now, you dingus".

"Please don't have another argument before we arrive at the hospital", you ask the duo, sighing again. "... Want another blanket, Ollie?"

"I want a warm room away from this cold, that's what I want".

"Wait an hour or two, then".

"Urgh".

"You welcome".

You close your eyes, feeling the Sun against your skin. The Prototype's words echo in your head, the promise you two made still there:

These kids shall be safe and happy.

You can still hear the mechanical sounds his legs made when he walked. A part of you swears that it can feel him watching over your bunch from inside the factory, despite the cameras outside not being functional anymore. You don't doubt he would be capable of finding a way to watch the scene, though.

You stare at the burning parts of the factory in the background, and, before you can start doubting if this will grab the authorities' attention, you hear sirens in the background.

Cop sirens, to be exact.

Poppy looks up to you, Doey jumps on his seat, and you put the doll on Kissy's lap before jumping over Yarnaby:

"KIDS!", you call the others. "EVERYBODY, GET BACK THERE, THEY'RE COMING!"

Just one word:

FUCK.

Why did it have to be the COPS the first people to pop up, and not a fucking ambulance?! Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Just. Shit. FUCK (again). You are so, SO fucking lucky sometimes, urgh. Let's hope they don't scare the kids even more.

Huggy, Catnap, Marie and Doey help you retrieve the chaos gremlins back to the group. You count: All +100 of them are there, with no exceptions. You hold Doey's face and tell him to remain strong, you tell Kissy and Huggy that they have nothing to fear with you around, you assure Marie and Catnap don't make a murder plan, and you sit back on your seat.

The first car that appears makes your stomach curl. You stare at it, unmoving. The tension is palpable. The kids are anxious, terrified and horrified when the two cops get out of the car and turn to you.

You stare at them, suddenly more aware than ever that you have visible blood stains on your clothes and you must be looking like hell, and they stare at you in silence, approaching with their mean looks. Poppy moves on your seat, clinging to you even more, her call having just ended.

You stare at the cops again.

The cops stare at you again.

You bite your tongue. They aren't approaching you anymore, instead, stopping several meters away from your group, wide-eyed, and then you realize that they aren't reaching for their guns.

Finally, you roll your eyes:

"Do we have a problem here, officer?"

The guy you think is the oldest of the duo, a pale man with sunken brown eyes, seems taken completely off-guard for a moment. Bunzo clings to your leg, anxious. PJ Pug-a-Pillar tilts his head in curiosity, and you notice that Delight is waving at the duo.

"W...", the younger man's voice fails him. "What the-"

"Don't ya finish that sentence, there's kids there", you grunt, noticing the other cars appearing. "We need as many ambulances as possible, now. The kids needs medical attention".

"What happened there?", the officer demands, and his eyes go to the very much still burning piece of factory. You glance back at it for a moment before returning your attention to him.

"Executives", you shrug, aaaand more people pop out of the cars. "Tell your friends to back off, it's been a decade since these kids saw other people, and they bite".

"This is private property. What are you doing here?"

Private property, private property my fucking ass- "get your friends to back off, or else I won't say shit to you".

"You have no right-"

"Mister Officer, please, you must listen!"

You would have laughed at the guy's face upon seeing Poppy getting up from your seat. Catnap growls as a response to his voice tone, and you don't know if it's the sound he makes or his movements, but it seems convincing enough for the asshole to actually back off, and actually and properly inform the rest of the group to not approach.

"Thank you", Poppy mutters.

"Don't thank him", you scratch her head. "I am in private property because the owner of this frickin' place invited me in because he and these kids were stuck in there for the past decade. I need a dang ambulance for once".

"And who is the owner?"

You almost say Elliot Ludwig, but even your own tolerance for absurdity isn't high enough to buy that one. So you bite your tongue, you stay on your seat, and you hear more sirens echoing in the background.

"Long ass story", you mutter, before getting up, bag on one hand, Poppy in another.

You have no idea how or why, but the officer almost doesn't react when you approach him. His friend places a hand on his gun, but you don't react either, merely giving him the heavy bag.

"These are the documents", you tell him, watching the ambulances arrive.

"Did you steal these documents?"

"They were given to me", you half-lie, half-tell the truth.

"I'll have to ask you to follow me, ma'am, and tell me why there's a fire happening in an abandoned factory".

"W-wait, no!", Poppy desperately stares at you, wide-eyed. "T-they can't go, we need them!"

You merely unzip your jacket, exposing your very much still bleeding out shoulder and your very much still soaked in blood torso, and shrug.

You see people coming out of the ambulances. Bunzo runs to you, grabbing your leg as he stares at the officer, wide-eyed. "I-I won't let you take mama away!"

Well, there goes the cop's control of the situation, because now some of the minis also approach you, clinging to both your legs and back, and you know they look too realistic and move too naturally for them to be animatronics or robots. Other cops start moving to approach you, and you...

Yawn.

Damn, you're tired as hell-

A guy presents himself as the lieutenant, and another as the deputy chief. You tilt your head. Looks like your way of grabbing attention may have worked too well...

Marie's hand grabs your good shoulder. You don't react to her staring at the group, merely waiting for your permission to probably kill them or something worse. Despite what you wish you can do, you merely hold her hand. The deputy chief grabs the bag, and stares at the nurses who just got out of the ambulance before petting the shoulders of the first officer.

"Looks like we got big fish in our hands", he tells the guy. Uhm. Okay. "Go take these things to the ambulance. Let us handle the rest".

You blink, remembering what the Prototype told you about many people knowing about what PlayCo. was doing, but never doing anything about it. You stare at the man's eyes, and you aren't very good with judging people by looks but your stomach curls around itself, and you know one damn thing.

He stares at you with a certain disdain and hatred in his eyes. You smile. You hear a helicopter approaching, alongside a van from a news report. Your smile widens, a shit eating grin that goes from ear to ear as you realize who has the power over the situation.

"Looks like the mess you ignored finally caught up to you, eh, officer?"

You turn your back to the group, unafraid. "W-what's going on, Angel?", Dogday asks on his seat, terrified, as you put Poppy on his lap.

"Oh, a lot", you now grab your actual backpack, reaching for your water bottle as the kids stare at you, anxious. "A whole, whooole lot".

"What are they going to do?", Marie asks in a whisper. "Should we...?"

"Nope. We aren't killing anyone, pirralhada", you take a generous sip of water. "We just hit the jackpot".

You hear the number of people growing in the background. Good thing you told the kids to keep themselves quiet, and even better thing that they are listening.

"We're going to take whatever remains of PlayCo. down. And, most importantly, we'll make sure the people who didn't help you guys pay. But, right now?"

You turn towards the humans again.

"Right now, we gotta go to the hospital".

[thollandsgirl2013]

Could you do one where the reader is generally really shy and anxious but around tom or peter, she's herself openly

Hope I wrote it correctly, its really short.... Thanks for requesting!

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → fluff, introvert! Reader

Summary → Peter's your safe place.

(gif not mine)

The cafeteria was loud—louder than usual. The buzz of overlapping conversations, the clatter of trays, and the occasional burst of laughter made your head spin. You hated crowds. The sheer amount of people, the noise, the pressure to navigate social situations—it was exhausting. You kept your head down, gripping your lunch tray tightly, your heart hammering in your chest. You wished you could disappear.

But then you spotted him.

Peter Parker, sitting at your usual table near the window, already looking at you. The moment your eyes met, he smiled—warm, familiar, safe. The tightness in your chest eased. Your feet moved on their own, weaving through the chaos, straight to him.

"Hey, Y/n/n! There’s my favorite person," Peter greeted, scooting over to make room for you.

You sat down with a soft sigh, placing your tray in front of you. "You always say that," you murmured, but there was no real complaint in your voice.

"Because it’s always true," he shot back, grinning. "Rough morning?"

You poked at your food, hesitating for only a second before sighing. "Mrs. Thompson made me answer a question in front of the whole class."

Peter winced. "Yikes. Did she at least pick something easy?"

You shook your head. "Nope. It was about the Industrial Revolution, and my brain just... shut down. Everyone was staring, and I could feel my face burning. I swear I forgot how to speak English for a second."

Peter laughed softly, nudging your shoulder. "I bet you did fine."

"You weren’t there. It was a disaster."

"You know what’s a disaster? Me trying to cook," Peter said, leaning in conspiratorially. "Last night, I thought I could make grilled cheese, and somehow, I set off the smoke alarm. May banned me from using the stove for a week."

You snorted, unable to help the small laugh that escaped you. "You set bread on fire?"

"Apparently, I have a talent for it," he said, looking proud of himself.

"You’re ridiculous," you muttered, shaking your head, but you were smiling. Around Peter, it was easy. The anxiety that normally weighed you down seemed lighter. You could talk freely, ramble without overthinking every word.

Peter rested his chin on his hand, watching you with an affectionate smile. "You know, I love hearing you talk."

Your face heated instantly. "Why?"

"Because you’re quiet around everyone else, but with me, you’re yourself." His voice was soft, genuine. "I like that."

You stared at him, feeling a lump form in your throat. He always did this—said things so effortlessly that made your heart squeeze. "I—um." You cleared your throat, focusing on your tray. "It’s just… You never judge, so, I feel safe with you."

Peter’s smile widened. "Good. Because I’d fight off all the scary teachers and public speaking assignments for you if I could."

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest remained.

Safe. That’s what Peter Parker was to you. Safe.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the best feeling in the world.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[atinycelery]

Cameron as Lockwood was amazing and the show writing definitely had him analyzed really well what Lockwood would've been like if he was older, instead of 15 as he was and Lucy being 14 and George being also 15 at the beginning of the book series

Yes, 18 yo Lockwood would appear more tired even from the first episode or maybe that's just Cameron lol because he's been thru a lot for years, as he's aged up by 3 years, but I keep thinking of the 15yo Lockwood who's still got his twinkle, his hopes. For me, Cameron!Lockwood is anxious and visibly trying his best, book!Lockwood doesn't know the kind of out of depthness he's actually in if he's a normal kid in a normal universe.

Cameron!Lockwood is hanging by a thread, book!Lockwood (putting aside our famous hc that the books romanticize Lockwood because it's from Lucy's pov) is a kid who stepped into a sinkhole and he's sinking slowly into it but he doesn't know it

I'm a sucker for the early teens books characters because those things that they changed and/or wrote to become more dramatic and/or didn't land as well as they would've if they weren't on tv....is because they're early teens in the books

This hollowed out grieving boy will not have the mind for anything else other than what he thinks is essential at that age; his company, his house, his livelihood, his looks and his friends. He's had enough at 15

It took him longer to reach the romantic attachment conclusions not because he didn't realize his feelings; being a ghost hunter means you gotta emphatize and understand why ghosts are acting the way they did, even if he didn't go as far Lucy did. It's because he's 15

Those awkward gaps in the books where Lucy was doing more than she should and we were all like, pls react the way a normal guy who likes a girl would, and he didn't? That's because he's literally 15/16. He doesn't know how to react like that. He was mad at Lucy for going against his orders as her employer because he didn't know how else best to react. Yet. Best he can do is try to cheer you up awkwardly with "you know I'd die for you". And he was super sincere when he said that.

He's trying to stay a company afloat at 15 and possibly younger than that when he first met George. He doesn't have the mind capacity for anything else. His energy is spent so much on being on top of things as the leader, appearing charming as he best know, getting as much good cases as they can, keeping the company and himself fed and sheltered; see how he treated Lucy in THB-- it's because he thinks what he did was right; he thinks keeping Lucy alienated was a way to keep her safe, he employed Holly specifically because he wanted the company to work smoothly, better

The kid who basically went suicidal mode because he didn't know how to deal with Lucy leaving the co. had probably just turned 16/17ish. They've only reached the age they were in the show i think, in the latter part of the books series

Yes angsty and capable 17/18 y/o Lockwood is great but can you imagine being in a younger time in your life and doing what he was trying to do? That's angsty younger, and capable 15ish y/o kid

It's not a vast difference in age, but I would sooner send a 17 year old kid to buy groceries than a 15 yr old if I had the choice

The age factor messes me up everytime because Lockwood lost his family and he's managing a company at younger than 15. Lucy left home at 14. 14. She lost her colleagues/friends at younger than that. That awkward, no filter George is 15. That kid who's also trying his best to manage the food intakes in the house the way he knew how to before Holly arrived was in his early teens

You turn to look at Flo and she's just a little bit older than the trio. Flo is older than Lockwood in the books iirc but still probably younger than show Flo. And she was already traumatized and messed up. I actually think show Flo is more sane than book Flo (maybe show Flo had better coping mechanisms lol)

Things make more sense in the show with 17/18/18ish characters managing the company. Normal kids are about to leave school at that age. 17ish are not adults but they're old enough that it's believable and not alarming that they're living together, they're fighting together with no adults supervision,

but imagine being younger than that...and no adult supervision, and it's not merely that it's all shenanigans, it's that they're early teens kids trying their best the way they know how too. In other words, too young it makes me wanna cry. If i was a character in the books, I'd adopt them all

To reiterate the wildness of it all, imagine you're agreeing to sending your 15yo brother and his friends to a haunted mansion where the owner is a homicidal geezer who wanted ro silence them by pretending to ask them to solve the haunting of his mansion WHERE PEOPLE HAVE ACTUALLY LOST THEIR LIVES

That's book one.

Do you realize how skrunkly and the extent of out of depthness they all had in the books because of how much younger they were in them and i wanna hug them sm

[perplexingluciddreams]

today is my birthday. i am 20.

i am having a chill relaxed day. same routine as always. just with a bonus of some presents, jam doughnuts, and my favourite dinner (mum makes sushi).

i had jam doughnuts for birthday last year too and i think i want it to be my birthday thing from now on. it is nice to create my own tradition to enjoy to make a positive association to birthday instead of all the past negative associations.

presents i got : Wednesday playing cards and double stuff oreos (from my previous support worker now friend Emily!). candy kittens sweets (from auntie and uncle and cousins). moomin art print book, moomin playing cards, moomin design fabric that mum can turn into anything i want, cuddly moomin toy (all from mum and dad!).

i have always been a very anxious person, since i was very wee. i have a lot of anxiety around my birthday. and had a lot of not good experiences in the past. apart from the last couple of years, i cried and/or had a meltdown and/or shutdown every birthday. i am so glad that the last few years have been better. it took a long time to get here where i can explain it all to parents and they can help to make birthday a nice and lovely day for me!

turning a new age is a hard stressful change, it feels like a big deal in my head. it is hard to adjust to thinking of myself as a new age. i only just got used to thinking of myself as 19, after a year of repeating it to myself in my head "i am 19, i am 19 years old, my age is 19".

for some reason the number of my age feels like a really big important deal to me, since i was wee. like a fact i must memorise. maybe linked to my barely-there sense of self. i don't know myself barely at all, and that makes me worried and anxious and other feelings i can't describe. i memorise facts about myself like name, age, height, favourite colour... as if i am a character. but it is just words and facts in my head, not something can translate to real. i feel very disconnected.

also have a lot of feelings about my age vs my ability level. and how disabled i am. and all the things i can't do and won't ever do. i feel this all the time i think but i easily forget things/not have awareness of things (until something reminds me by making a link or association which makes my brain go there).

i get more than usual aware of it right now because of birthday, or sometimes when my 2 years younger sister does cool amazing things, so much more grown-up and capable than i can ever be. (i am proud of her and love her. not complaining about how cool she is, just this is how it makes me think and feel alongside the proudness and happiness for her).

so, birthdays can be tough. and rough. and for most of my life that i remember, it has not been a good day. not a day i look forward to at all.

but today has been good. just chill and relaxed and mainly normal (with a few pleasant bonuses!).

still lots of thoughts and feelings about it, still there. but i can share some of it now so people understand and then they can help make it better and easier for me. i am grateful that mum and dad make my today birthday a nice day.

i am happy excited and calm - a combination/balance that is hard to create without overwhelm of emotion causing meltdown or shutdown. to have a birthday where i am not so consumed by anxiety and overwhelm that all i can do is meltdown, is a huge gift in itself.

[defuckingthrone-dot-com]

Gutten Morgen, Ich bin back once again👹 So, I just wanted to ask if you can write about the triplets. Of course, if you don't want to you don't have to.

With love, Deutsch Nonnie❤️👹

Summary: Noah x Reader finding out having triplets  

Pairing: Noah x Reader

TW: none, maybe fainting? But just a cute little blurb.

N/A: for my Deutsch Nonnie, sorry it took me so long to post this, been through chaos, but I hope you like it! almost I'm sorry if this isn't accurate, I don't know anything about pregnancy or babies to be quite honest with you, but I tried my best <3

Divider by @bernardsbendystraws

Ever since Noah and I found out I was pregnant a few weeks ago everything has been like a dream. It feels so surreal to me that I’m starting a little family with the love of my life. He's been very attentive to my needs. 

Today we had our first check up just to make sure everything was going to plan and hopefully we would be able to hear the heartbeat of our little. 

“Are you nervous?” I asked Noah as he pulled out of the driveway of our home. 

“I'm more excited than anything.. i can't believe we're having a baby” he replied back, sounding ecstatic. “I know where probably not doing this the conventional way, i mean were not married yet and were having a baby now but i wouldn't want to do it with anyone else”

A small sigh escaped my lips and I spoke once more  “I wouldn't want to do it with anything else either. Plus we don't need to be married or we don't need to do anything how everyone else thinks it should be. i'm happy just the way we are”

He grabbed my hand over the middle console with one of his while his other hand remained on the steering wheel. “Yeah me too” he said in almost a whisper.

We had the radio as background for the rest of the drive. It didn't take long to arrive at the clinic. 

“Hi im here for my 2 p.m. appointment” i spoke with the receptionist outside of the office of my doctor,

“Yes, Mrs. Y/L/N, follow me” she signalled with her hand. 

I intertwined my finger with Noahs and started to follow the receptionist. 

She knocked on the door and poke her head in “Dr. Quinn your next appointment is here”

“Yes thank you Martha, i'll take it from here” i hear the Dr, voices right as we walked in 

After a couple of minutes of introduction we started a regular check up and made my vitals where they needed to be. 

“Now it's a bit early to determine the sex of the baby but we can listen to its heartbeat, if that's okay with you?” Dr Quinn asked with a smile on her face.

Both Noah and I nodded in unison, too excited to speak.

“Okay i'm gonna have to lay down on the bed here and please pull your top up just a little bit for me please. I'll start getting the machine ready” she commanded.

I did as she said and laid there with my baby bump exposed to the cold air, it was starting to show more and more everyday and I was starting to feel the baby move around. 

She inch closer with the machine in hand and started to also put on gel on my belly.

“Okay here we go”

At first there wasn't any sound coming from the little speaker by the machine and made me very anxious that something might be wrong but after a minute of moving the handheld device around we could hear your baby's heartbeat.

Thump, thump, thump..

It was so magical, my eyes started to water from the emotion, I reached out to grab Noah's hand once more and squeeze it and I could feel the same way as his eyes started to crystallize with adoration.

Thump, thump, thump…

“Heartbeat is where it should be everything seems to be normal but i do want to do an ultrasound to see if we can't get a look at how big the baby is” Dr Quinn said already grabbing whatever she needed to complete the ultrasound

“I'm so happy you have no idea” Noah admitted with a sigh

“So am i can't believe we got to hear your baby's heartbeat” i said 

Noah gave me a forehead just as Dr Quinn walked right back in, she placed more gel on my belly and continued “Ok let's look here” she pointed at the monitor that hung from the wall.

“ok here's the head and those are its arms and legs…”

“I don't know how you can define a baby form, it all just looks like a blob to me,” Noah said probably without thinking. 

“Noah!” I said, thankfully Dr Quinn thought it was funny since she let out a small laugh.

She started to move around my belly once more with the machine. “oh well you look at that..there's…”

“Where's Dr? Is everything okay?” I was a bit worried.

“Everything is okay, there one, two, and three heads, looks like you're having triplets! the heart beats we hear a beat earlier where from different little babies”

Did I hear correctly? there's 3 babies growing inside of me?

“TRIPLETS?” Noah shouted before he took a stumble down, he fainted with the impression of the news

“Noah!” I screamed once more but this time to try to get to him. “Dr please you gotta do something” 

Dr Quinn got as fast as she could to grab a cotton ball and rubbing alcohol to put it under Noah's nose so he would come back to his senses. 

“What..happened.. ?” he said with a disoriented tone.

Dr Quinn looked at me as if to say I should let him know what went down.

“You fainted..because..we just found out we were having triplets..” i said with an almost guilty smile, 

He shook his head as if he wasn't understanding what just said to him “Triplets?” he asked again with a bit of a calmer voice.

Dr Quinn nodded her head before saying “Yes, but i'm gonna leave you two alone for a couple of minutes so you cant talk” with that she walked out of the room.

“I feel like I'm in a fever dream,” Noah spat out.

“ A good one or a bad one?” i asked 

“I don't know yet honestly..” he sighed. 

“I know you're scared…and to be quite honest with you so am i” i took a pause “but i know we will get through this together. remember i wouldn't want anyone else to do this with. i love you”

“you're right, we're in this together, I can't wait to have 3 little goblins running around our home” he squeezed my hand this time. “I love you too.. now where have to start tripling up on everything” he said with a small laugh.

I know that this pregnancy would probably be beating the shit of me, once i got the last trimester but I couldn't wait to have 3 babies in our home causing the best kind of chaos. Life would be a bit haptic, but I knew with Noah by my side everything will be alright.

[milo-is-rambling]

The five mg edible didn’t get me noticeably high but it was enough to turn my emotions back on so now I know what to take if I ever want to cry

[hplonesomeart]

Hey. Sorry about the inactivity, but pretty sure no one cared that much anyways lol. Been a looooong time since I kept that distant from Tumblr…at least now I know I’m able to survive without checking posts every day/being chronically online! I’ve got an intense love-hate relationship with this lifestyle I’ve dug myself into. Think I’m getting a little bit better with the balance even if school isn’t really giving me an option. Got a load of work I need to keep catching up on if I don’t want to disappoint my professors. We’ll survive somehow. Here take a quick batch of Puzzle doodles k bye

[valewritessss]

In honor of my period coming two fucking days early, here’s a menstruation based pjo question.

Who do we think has the worst cramps vs who do we think is one of those lucky ducks who have minimal bleeding and little to no cramps?

[sherlock-is-ace]

the imposter syndrome i feel every time i even slightly think i might be autistic is insane, specially for a person who highly relates to the lived experiences of people who are professionally diagnosed.

Like I was just watching this one youtuber, and she was talking about very specific examples in her life and childhood where she saw autistic traits that made her realize she was autistic and then seek a diagnosis and then get one, and everything she was saying was like she was describing my life! But yeah no, I can't be autistic tho

[whentherewerebicycles]

it's good news thank god 😭😭😭

[lemondropletters]

It may not be a curtain vision, but here’s a little snippet of a dream I had with Reynie. There’s very limited context but I hope you enjoy regardless!

✧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈✧

Reynie hovered by the dining room entrance, his stomach twisted in knots. He took a hesitant step forward, and then another. Mr. Benedict sat at the table, a book in hand, while Number Two bustled about the kitchen, preparing breakfast.

"Where is everyone?" Reynie's voice barely rose above a whisper. Mr. Benedict looked up in slight surprise before smiling, his glasses balanced delicately on the bridge of his nose.

"Ah, good morning, Reynie," he greeted warmly, setting aside his book and removing his glasses. "I believe Milligan and the others took the children out to run errands."

“Oh,” Reynie murmured, swallowing hard. ‘Of course after everything they probably don’t want to see me…’ His thoughts trailed off as he lingered in the doorway.

Mr. Benedict waved him in. “Sit down, sit down! Number Two is almost done with breakfast.”

Reynie hesitated before taking the seat opposite Mr. Benedict. The only sound was the gentle crackling of food on the stove.

“How are you feeling?” Mr. Benedict's voice broke the silence. Reynie glanced down, fidgeting with his hands.

"Fine," he replied quietly.

The room fell silent once more. Mr. Benedict regarded him with an indefinable expression. It wasn’t negative really, but Reynie felt terrible from it all the same.

"Reyn—" Mr. Benedict started, interrupted by the arrival of a plate.

"Oh, lovely! Thank you, Number Two," he said gratefully before turning back to Reynie, ready to continue their conversation.

"Toast?" Number Two interjected, addressing Mr. Benedict.

Mr. Benedict blinked in surprise. "Yes- sorry- Toast?”

“I wasn’t sure which bread you wanted? We have whole wheat, whole grain, sourdough…”

“Well, Yes I’m sure they’re all good Number Two.” Mr Benedict began. Number two cut him off.

“…pumpernickel, rye bread, a baguette, white bread, brown bread-” She continues listing of bread.

“Yes, Number Two, that’s all fine—“ Mr. Benedict quickly looked up at her, bewildered. “Do we really have that much bread?”

Reynie glances between them.

“Any bread will do Number Two. Or no bread… Actually I’m rather fine without toast.”

“..No bread?” Number Two mumbled, a look of disbelief on her face.

Reynie slowly gets up from his chair as to not draw attention to himself. Maybe this conversation will last long enough for him to slip away and avoid talking about last night. Once he’s a good distance from the table he turns asround, preparing to make a quick exit up the stairs.

"Reynie?" Mr. Benedict's voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned, meeting Mr. Benedict's gentle smile, which was enough for him to sit back down at his seat.

“Sorry.”

"No need to apologize, my dear boy," Mr. Benedict reassured him.

Reynie lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Now, first things first, are you hungry?”

Reynie looks at him and then at Number Two. He pauses, then smiles. “Actually, is it alright if I have some toast?”

Mr. Benedict laughs for a moment, before promptly passing out.

[omegawolverine]

rewatching teds 400mg edible story now that i know what it feels like

[seventh-district]

sometimes it’s late at night and you’re cleaning your room and you come across a few old black and white photos of a young girl and you stare at them for a long minute wondering how on earth they got lost in an old Kroger shopping bag with an unopened pack of cigarettes and a receipt dated 2017.

and you look at the girl in the pictures sat on the floor of someone’s home you don’t recognize, smiling and playing with a set of keys and a tiny part of you feels like it recognizes her but you aren’t sure.

and you flip the pictures over hoping to find some sort of annotation that would give you context and all you find is the year 1964 stamped in tiny font along the edge.

and you flip them back over and time stands still as you realize that the recognition you feel is because she looks so much like you once did and next thing you know your hands are sweating and shaking and you have to sit on the floor because you’re crying so hard because it hits you all at once that you’re looking at your mother.

[babacontainsmultitudes]

Normal, Sparrow, and something about heroes

EDIT: Raised the "read more" cause tumblr wants to make self-rbs a nightmare smh smh

Y'all it's so difficult to write ANYTHING lol fuck... But yeah yeah definitely got some post ep. 30 thoughts. Do need to start with some explanations/clarifications on my general stance regarding Normal which is mostly for the mutuals LOL and they know that so if things appear to lack a bit of context on that front well that's why.

There are some things regarding Norm where I lowkey almost don't want to say anything because I'm sooooo wishy washy myself ahahaha and I feel like I'm definitely gonna end up writing some stuff here and be like "ehhhhhh" later on but what can you do what can you do.

I guess I can at least start by saying that when I say that like, Norm can be self-centered, or prideful, or something to that effect, I am *definitely* not trying to say like "this negates Norm's compassion" or that like, Norm needs to be made to feel bad about that? I hope I'll be able to explain what I mean properly here but, a lot of my feelings regarding Norm's more negative traits do genuinely come from a place of concern for him??

Yes I think Norm can be self-centered, yes I think it comes from a place of loneliness and insecurity, yes I think it bleeds into his actions in a way that can negatively impact both himself and those around him, and yes I think that all of these things make him very very VERY similar to Scary... Is my general stance atm but let me, let me *try* to explain what all that means for me LOL.

I think Norm is a good person. I don't think he's *the most* empathetic or selfless or kind character we've seen in the show, but I also don't think he needs to be, or ever will need to be. He has a good heart (all the teens do, yes that includes Scary, fight me), he *does* care about other people very much, and like the other teens his frustrations are valid and generally pretty justified!

But I think Norm is someone who, perhaps pretty fundamentally, requires a pretty high level of external validation and social acceptance to feel loved, has generally gone most of his life not having that need met outside of his immediate family, and is pretty all-or-nothing and rejection-sensitive when it comes to this validation. I don't think Norm is a bad person for any of these traits (at all), even if it can impact his interactions with others negatively at times. No, above all else, these traits lead me to feel quite concerned and altogether just kinda sad for Norm.

And that's where things get a bit messy. On the one hand, Norm *is* a kind person, with good intentions, and even when I feel most frustrated with his actions, I don't take them as coming from a place of malice or ill-intent. But Norm wants to feel loved so bad, and his conditions for feeling loved (as aforementioned) are very difficult to meet, so, yes, (I do personally feel that) Norm often does, largely without knowing, prioritize this endless search for validation over other things, and having this at the forefront of his mind so frequently does inhibit his ability to truly connect with the people around him and (in many cases) actually *empathize* with them.

The difference- the difference for me between Normal and Linc with regards to Scary isn't whether or not they *care* about Scary. Even if it's a bit old now, I didn't write a whole thing on Normal/Scary and Sparrow/Lark parallels because I don't think Norm cares about Scary. Normal has *absolutely* put a tremendous amount of effort into trying to keep Scary around, to disappointing results that are justifiably frustrating for him. Normal and Linc both care about Scary, the difference for me, and what I just find so spectacular about Linc compared to all the other teens here, is that Linc goes *beyond* himself when he breaks the pic. He's not the first person to care about or try to help Scary, he's just the first person to do so in the way that she actually needs- because his general selflessness allows him to be the first person to actually *understand* Scary. He's not the first person to feel *for* her, he's the first person to feel *with* her. That is... Well I guess that is also to say that when I use the word "empathy" I mean it fairly precisely.

Which also isn't... I'm not trying to knock Normal (or Taylor) in saying this btw. The teens ALL have their strengths and weaknesses, and this was simply a moment that brought out one for Linc and another for Norm (vice versa can has and will be true at other points in time). Normal not being able to do what Linc did here is not something I'm trying to hold against him. With regards to their argument, I genuinely think that they both have plenty of reason to be upset, and ultimately it's all just one big misunderstanding. Still, I do personally think that much of why Norm is so upset with Linc in this scene has not so much to do with Scary nor with the Doodler- but is in fact at least in part Norm feeling rejected by Linc (invalidated, unloved, etc.), and acting out accordingly. Additionally, I think these feelings get in the way of Norm actually being able to understand and appreciate why Linc did what he did. They were both hurt, they both lashed out. I'm not trying to gloss over Linc's part in this either, I'm not saying one of them was right and the other was wrong or that one was mean and the other wasn't, but from what I've seen at least it seems people are almost unanimously siding with Norm on this one without much consideration for the points Linc actually makes here, choosing instead to focus solely on what *Linc's* hurt caused him to say (without acknowledging of course that in Linc's case too it comes from a place of hurt), and that much is a bit frustrating for me admittedly.

I wouldn't have expected or wanted Norm to behave any differently in this scene than he did. I think everything about Norm's behavior makes perfect sense for where he's at, and "where he's at", for me, isn't "selfish kid who doesn't care about other people" it's "scared kid who feels rejected and alone". That said, I think if Norm wants to get any better he, like all the teens, needs to start introspecting a bit more and work on himself.

And when I say that, I'm not saying "Norm is prideful and needs to be more humble" I'm saying, Norm needs to get to a place where he can feel loved, and allow himself to be loved, without it being so all or nothing.

Enter Hero!!! The chosen one! I kinda don't get why some people are just seeing this as Anthony trying to bully Norm rather than a very important opportunity for growth!!!

This feels like a point that could be easily misconstrued, so I'll try to be careful? When I say that Hero being the chosen one is an opportunity for Norm to grow as a person, I am NOT saying in becoming more humble or something like that?? Normal's pride isn't his fatal flaw, it's an afterthought of it, a manifestation of it, a defense mechanism vis a vis his fundamental insecurities, if you will.

Normal, as I see him, is convinced that he will only ever be loved, that he will only ever have "solved" love, when he is validated in absolutes. When he is the most popular boy in school who is friends with everybody. When he's the hero of the story. When he's the chosen one. If part of him sees himself as being without flaw (or the best part of teen high or whatever), it's not because he's some arrogant little brat, it's because he can't imagine himself as being lovable unless he is perfect. He isn't selfish for feeling this way, but from an outside view I think it's fairly easy to say that if Normal continues down that path, he's never going to get where he needs to go.

Hero being the chosen one, not Normal, gives Normal an opportunity to learn (or at least start to learn) that his perceived prerequisites for love (of himself) are false. Normal doesn't have to be the hero of the story. He doesn't have to be a hero. He doesn't have to be Hero, it's enough to just be Normal.

Sooooo... I think it's pretty ironic that... Upon learning that Hero is the chosen one.... So many people have jumped the gun and assumed that this means... Sparrow doesn't love Normal.

HAHA THAT'S RIGHT THIS WAS ABOUT SPARROW ALL ALONG YOU THOUGHT I WAS DONE TALKING ABOUT THIS MAN NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER

But seriously, wow, it pains me sometimes how little faith people have in Sparrow. Hero is "the chosen one"... So every single time Sparrow has relayed how much he loves Norm goes down the drain?? At a most basic level folks, your child can be unplanned and still be loved, actually. Some might even say that that's... normal.

But do you get what I'm trying to say here? The assumptions much of the fandom has made about Sparrow and his love exactly reflect the toxic trains of thought that will probably be plaguing Normal's mind and feeding into his insecurities as the whole Hero thing develops?? And these insecurities (and again false prerequisites for love) are exactly what Normal needs help working through???

But let's move away from the Norm side of things a little bit, cause the assumptions being made about Sparrow currently are much more vast than this.

Let's make something clear. We don't know Sparrow's side of the story. We don't know Lark's side of the story. And of course, we don't know Rebecca's side either. We don't know if Rebecca did or didn't know about the prophecy. It seems that at this point in time, the spouses have had their memories erased. *Not necessarily* the case, but I genuinely can't fathom a scenario in which Cassandra somehow doesn't notice that the father of her child is always kind of a little bit on fire- and conspiracy theorist Rebecca to me also might hint at the fact that at some earlier point in time she would have known more about what's going on? But that's purely speculation, obviously.

So why are we suddenly so sure of Sparrow's intentions, feelings, and *role* in bringing Hero into the world?

I... Well I've been reluctant to bring this up even though the notion has been an itch in my mind since yesterday, but eventually you see enough upsetting Sparrow posts that someone needs to step up and offer something new I guess.

So... Allow me to suggest that, Sparrow being against the idea of having a child purely to fulfill a prophecy, and refusing to partake, actually makes *more* sense.

Most especially, if Sparrow was adamantly against going through with such a plan, we now have the most sound and in-character reason so far to explain... Why Lark slept with Rebecca.

(*gasp*)

As I see it anyways! Because, yeah, it's always felt like a weird elephant in the room, and I don't really feel satisfied with the existing theories at all! Someone with as strong as a resolve as Lark sleeps with the wife of the person who means more to him than anyone cause... He was horny? Or maybe as part of some strange convoluted ploy to push Sparrow away? I'm not saying these aren't still valid possibilities, and I'm not saying that this theory I'm proposing is what happened, really it's an assumption based on an assumption, but nevertheless I think it would make a lot of sense honestly.

(More specifically, what I'm suggesting is Sparrow not wanting to go through with the plan, Lark seeing it as a necessary evil to deal with the Doodler- and we know how hellbent Lark is on dealing with the Doodler, and accordingly "doing what needed to be done", as he is one to do, of course at Sparrow and at least in theory Hero's expense.)

This would also make sense of a lot of Sparrow's more extreme behaviors towards Normal, particularly the question of his name. Through this lens, it was perhaps an affront towards Lark (and possibly Rebecca??), an assertion to the effect of "no, you will not do this again, this child will not be doomed to be a hero". This, or something less aggressive but in a similar vein.

Of course this puts Normal and Sparrow at fundamental odds with one another! Er, despite being so very very similar which isn't what this post is about but still... Anyhoo, yes, there is an important conflict at play here, wherein Normal, as we discussed earlier, sees being the hero (the chosen one, what have you) as the only way to solve love, to be loved- and Sparrow who, more than anything else, doesn't want anymore heroes in the family, because he loves his family, and what happened with Henry... Can't happen again.

[springsteens]

I don't know what it is about me that people always assume they can treat me like shit