#you work in a diner

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: The Dead Man at the Diner

Danny has a hard time maintaining regular jobs. At this point he’s pretty much nocturnal after years of being attacked at night, and possibly just part of his ghostly nature. He’s odd, and a basic google search brings up various news articles about him getting into fist fights with the mayor of a small town. He barely passed high school and college was out of the question, so who in their right mind would hire him?

What’s a job that would work with his odd hours, doesn’t require a college education, and a possible criminal record and a tendency to be ready to throw down is NOT an issue?

Danny is a cook at a 24hour Diner in Gotham

The man just needs to be able to flip a burger and make breakfast food and doesn’t mind a gun in the face because he’s well used to it. So what if the robber was dumb enough to pull that shit next to the fryer. If he didn’t want something to end up extra crispy he should have stayed out of Danny’s kitchen

Just think of all the folks he would meet.

Sure, the vigilantes of the city would be obvious and you can’t tell me spoiler isn’t dragging folks there to eat. Maybe they notice some weird things about the cook, like he doesn’t breath, his eyes reflect light like an animal’s, or the time he accidentally cut off a finger and it was fine the next day, or maybe the time a robber shot him and he just... didn’t react

Something is weird about that guy

And of course the person I think would love a jersey style diner breakfast at all hours: Harley Quinn

Technically she’s not supposed to bring the hyenas in, health code and all that, but everyone else is to freaked out to tell her and Danny doesn’t care. Frankly he spends his break petting them and they like him because he smells like food.

[on-the-clear-blue]

Dead Man's Diner pt5

Danny groggily propped himself up as he heard the loud bang of his door being thrown open

"DANIEL VLADIMIR FENTON!"

Blinking a few times to get the sleep out of his eyes, Danny glared at Tucker, "Middle name? Really?" He hated it, so very much, hated that he thought it was cool when he was a kid, and hated it so much more after the portal incident, it wasn't enough for his parents to have Vlad be his godfather, Danny's middle name had to be that fruitloops as well.

Damn his parents for being such caring friends.

Tucker met Danny's glare as he crossed his arms in the doorway into Danny's room

He would cut an intimidating figure if Danny didn't know him, suit and tie perfectly pressed with a PDA held in one hand.

"I know you said that you got the Bats at the diner place thingy you are working at now last night, but did you have to call them out? Red Robin and Oracle have been trying to track you for the last 5 hours, I have had to summon Technus in the WE employee bathrooms! Thank God Mr Wayne included baby changing stations in each stall or I would have had to carve a sigil into the fucking wall! And I think *he* bricked the Batcomputor!" Tucker screeched as he paced the clear area of Danny's messy room

Scrubbing at his eyes, Danny sat up fully, more awake than he was a minute ago, "S-sorry? Didn't really think about them being sore bitches about it, I tagged them like once and set it online, they probably get hundreds of tags an hour. How was is supposed to know that they would read it?"

Tucker snarled, holding out his PDA for Danny to see "Not just Nightwing and Red Robin, half the God damn Young Justice team, The Titans are all over Nightwing, and all the rest of the bats are laughing their asses off! Look!"

<@Superboy_(the_hot_one)

[@not-that-red-robin.real wow Rob, if I knew u were broke I would have have asked Lexie to give u some cash]

<@Beep-Beep!_(official-Impluse)

[ @not-that-red-robin.real that's not very lit fam Gucci of u RR not very rizztastic and definitely isn't skibidi

@living-legend(Yes_that_wondergirl)

<@not-that-red-robin.real for fucking shame Red Themyscira has laws for bitches like you comere I am gonna cut off your thumbs.

Letting out a laugh, Danny was grinning as he scrolled through to Nightwings part.

<@theonetrueblueborg

[@.realwing: it's giving "my daddys rich and will take the bill" wing]

<@veggiemonster

[@.realwing: bro

:BRO

:Broooooooooooo]

<@Goth (Taylor's version)

[@.realwing: shame.]

Danny was full on laughing now, ad from what he could see through tears, so was Tucker, standing up with a weaze, "O-oh my Ancients....ugh t-that is just great"

Letting out a few more chuckles, Danny handded the PDA over to his friend, "I am sorry about getting the Bats aware of me, but I am not sorry for calling them toxic thinks."

Tucker sighed, running his forehead but still had a smile on his face, "You do know #NightwingsAssIsCancelled is trending right now?"

Danny couldn't hold back the cackle that shot through him at that.

---

Tim held his head in his hands, above him was his laptop, cycling through rebooting and then crashing, it had been five minutes so far, and if the last cycle had told him anything it would be up to that for another five minutes.

Groaning, Tim dragged himself up, he hadn't slept much last night, spending most of it trying (and failing) to get any information on the employee of Big C's, Danny nolastname he could find.

That was part of the problem, anytime he got even a smidgen close, it was like someone bitchsmacked him away. Even Babs was having trouble, she got a single thing before getting locked out of her own systems with baby shark playing on loop through her speakers.

He didn't know what to feel, humiliated that he was being actively cock blocked for information or excited since this is the first time in a while something was so difficult! The bear fact that he was being blocked so hard meant that there was something to block with this kid!

Stumbling down to the dining room, Tim didnt spare the table of his family a glance until he had gotten the pre-made cup of coffee from Alfred, letting the bitter drink wake him fully.

Finally turning to the family at large, he saw Bruce doing his best impression of a stone statue (Normal Damian was openingly glaring at him (slightly less normal), Dick was face down in a bowl of cereal (vaugly normal) and Cass was giggling while putting clips and sparkling things into Dicks hair (okay back to normal again)

Sitting in his spot across from Damian, Tim sighed, which seemed to be enough for Damian to go off on him.

"Are we paupers Drake? Has the CEO position at WE pay so little? And what of your own company? I was unaware that Drake Industries has fallen on such hard times!" Damians words rolled out like a lazy river, smooth and uncaringly cold.

"Oh my God, I am already planning on going back tonight and settling the fucking tab Dami, lay off it." Getting the expected "language" statement from both Bruce and Alfred, Tim drained his coffee cup, not so slamming it down but close to it before Damian could respond.

Eyes shooting to Bruce he huffed, "Meeting. Vlad Masters. One ish hours away."

Bruce's eyes shot to Alfred who only raised a brow at the two and Bruce stiffened "We can speak later in my Study Tim, eat something other than coffee and we can go do that." Getting a nod from Alfred, Bruce seemed to deflate with a sigh.

Grumbling, Tim picked at the plate of food Alfred placed in front of him, before forcing himself to eat, he would need energy more than coffee.

After managing to finish half his plate, Tim stood, "Come on, I need yo clue you in to somethings I was researching last night B..."

---

Bruce stayed silent as he sat down in his office, a tablet on his lap as he went through the test results once again.

"...are you saying me and Dick had Lazarus water laden food last night?" Tim said with frigid calmness

Biting back the urge to clam up and try and keep his son from worrying, Bruce nodded, "Trace amounts yes, I am unsure of its origins, the samples I was able to pull were much more pure than we are used to. How are you feeling?"

He watched as Tim held his face in his hands, massaging his temples before speaking, "Fine really? A little tired, appetite isn't there but that's normal...been feeling a strange sensation in my side but that is just likely phantom pain."

Noting everything down, Bruce nodded slowly, "Dick mentioned that he was still full feeling after a night's sleep and that some old wounds were feeling strange, I can only assume you are feeling your splenectomy scar?"

Sighing at Tim's agreement, Bruce noted a few more things down, making holding the last line to ask Damian if he had any knowledge on eating food effected by the pits, and another one not to tell Jason about this all in case it triggers something in him

"Putting that aside, B, what about Masters? Vladco makes medical stuff right? Shady business practices?" Bruce gave a grunt, switching the tabs on his pad to show him thr information on Vladimir Masters.

"Age 48, male, standing 6'1, weighs about 180, doctorate in theoretical quantum mechanics, had a lab incident preparing for a theise that left him hospitalized for some time, after he recovered and graduated is when his suspected criminal activities began, since then he has had several business owners simply sign their lively hoods to him...I suspect he is Meta with some sort of mind control abilities, the lab accident would make sense in awakening his Mets gene."

Bruce spoke as he handed the tablet over to Tim, "He sponsors several scientists with various types of study, two that stick out are Doctors Fenton and CADMUS."

Tim pulled a face as he followed along through the tabs of research "CADMUS? Really? So we are looking at some Midwestern millionaire that is totally not a supervillian in the making...what's up with the Fentons?" Handing the tablet back Tim flopped down into the chair opposite to Bruce.

"I am trying to figure that out, so far I know they went to school with Masters, and were there with him during the lab accident, the continual funding Masters is giving them makes me suspect they are just as involved in what ever Masters is to to..." Bruce was going to continue when there was a knock on the study door, and Alfred poked his head in.

"If you wish to be on time to your meeting, I would suggest Master Timothy get dressed now so you both might be in the car while I drive it to Wanye Towers."

Bruce frowned, but nodded, giving time a small smirk as the teen begins to realize he is just in a winkled t shirt that Bruce was 95% sure was Conners, and a pair of shorts that Bruce was very sure were Barts.

[theloveinc]

non-quirk/small town!au where pierced/tatted Dabi comes home from prison and is forced to work in Rei’s cute, quaint mom and pop shop off the side of endeavor’s farm🥺selling tea towels, perfume and fresh flowers !!

[soupmanspeaks]

something something headcanon Michael wrote a good amount of the Fnaf songs as a way of coping with the horrors™️ so like in his handy dandy notebook, right next to his plans of arson and vivid drawings of nightmares, it reads "I can see you there, warmth and life, why don't you share, it's been many years, stuck here living with out fears-" and it doubles as Michael trying to categorize all the information he's learnt and helping him process all this information and it gives this really funny visual of later on, Gregory asking Glamrock Freddy something from the past of Fazbear Entertainment or his previous family drama and then Freddy just starts humming and muttering "....mmm all stay strong, we live eternally, all is well in mmmmm pure insanity, mmmmm-AH!- here is your answer, Gregory! :333" no because imagine he shows Gregory "Too Far" (by CK9C) and Greg's like "Thats......a lot of yelling." "I was going through a rough time haha." -listens to it further before taking of the headphones- "...You good man?" "I'm really not, but we ball, Gregory."

[lunardragon00]

The Diner (San x Reader)

Student!Choi San x Teacher!Reader

Summary: San, a college student, falls into a dangerous obsession with his professor. Driven by delusions and a warped sense of connection, boundaries are crossed.

Warnings: obsessive behavior // unhealthy mindset // tame yandere behavior

Word Count: 5,394

The first day of the fall semester at South Seoul University was always bustling with excitement and anticipation. Choi San, a junior majoring in psychology, navigated the crowded campus with practiced ease. Tall, with a disarming smile and an effortless charm, he was well-liked by both his peers and professors. 

He entered the lecture hall for his new elective, "Advanced Literature and Human Behavior, where Professor L/N stood at the front of the room, her presence commanding and serene. She was known for her intelligence, her eloquent speech, and the way she could hold a room captive with her lectures. Today, she wore a simple yet elegant outfit that exuded confidence. San took a seat near the back, his eyes fixated on her as she began to speak.

"Good morning, class. I am Professor L/N. In this course, we will explore the intricate relationship between literature and the human psyche. Through various texts, we will examine how characters are driven by their desires, fears, and obsessions."

San's interest was piqued. As she spoke, he found himself drawn not just to her words, but to the way she carried herself, the subtle expressions that played across her face, and the melodic cadence of her voice. Each moment seemed to pull him deeper into a fascination that was quickly becoming an obsession.

Over the weeks, San's attendance became flawless. He sat closer to the front, his eyes never leaving her. He began to notice little things—how she sipped her coffee, the delicate way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the light perfume she wore. Every detail became a cherished part of his growing fixation.

San's friends noticed his change in behavior. He was quieter, more withdrawn, and always seemed to be lost in thought. He spent hours outside of class researching Y/N—her publications, her background, anything that could bring him closer to understanding her. He convinced himself that he was not just another student to her, but someone special. He saw meaning in every smile she directed at the class, every piece of feedback on his assignments.

It was now a random day during the semester, students had become antsy and stressed due to Mid-Terms being right around the corner. Sitting in lecture, San found it increasingly difficult to focus on anything other than Y/N. His notebook lay open in front of him, pages filled with detailed notes from her lectures, but his pen hovered idly above the paper.

Professor L/N was discussing the psychological underpinnings of classic literature, her voice steady and engaging despite the palpable tension in the room. "In many of these stories, characters are driven by their desires, sometimes to the point of obsession. It's important to consider how these intense emotions can cloud judgment and lead to irrational behavior."

San's heart raced at her words. It felt as if she were speaking directly to him, acknowledging the turmoil within his own mind. He shifted in his seat, trying to catch her eye. She continued, oblivious to the thoughts spiraling in San's head.

After class, San lingered in the hallway, pretending to review his notes. He watched as students filed out, chatting animatedly about the upcoming exams. Finally, Y/N stepped out of the lecture hall, her expression tired but composed. San took a deep breath and approached her, his palms sweating.

"Professor L/N," he called, his voice wavering slightly. She turned to face him, a polite smile on her lips.

"Yes, San? How can I help you?"

"I was hoping to get some clarification on today's lecture," he said, his voice steadier now. "The part about obsession and how it influences behavior... I found it really fascinating."

Y/N's smile widened, and she nodded. "Of course, San. I'm glad you found it interesting. Obsession can be a powerful force, often leading people to act in ways they wouldn't normally consider. It's a topic that resonates with many students, especially given the pressures of academic life."

San's heart swelled at her words. He imagined that there was a hidden message in her response, a recognition of his feelings. "I'd love to discuss it more in depth sometime," he blurted out. "Maybe over coffee?"

Y/N hesitated, a flicker of concern crossing her face. "I'm quite busy with midterms coming up, but perhaps we can find some time during my office hours," she suggested diplomatically.

San's smile faltered, but he nodded quickly. "Of course, I understand. I'll check your schedule."

As his teacher walked away, San's mind raced. He was certain she was just being cautious due to her position. He convinced himself that once midterms were over, she would be more open to spending time with him outside of the academic setting.

The week of midterms arrived, and the campus was abuzz with a mix of anxiety and determination. San's focus was divided between his studies and his fixation on Y/N. He spent countless hours in the library, surrounded by textbooks and notes, but his thoughts constantly drifted to her.

One evening, as he poured over his psychology textbook, his phone buzzed with a notification. It was a reminder for Y/N's office hours the next day. San's heart leapt. He saw this as his chance to finally break through the professional barrier that separated them.

The next afternoon, San arrived at Y/N's office with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. He knocked lightly on the door, and her voice called out, "Come in."

He stepped inside, finding her seated at her desk, papers strewn about. She looked up and smiled warmly. "Oh, San come in. How can I help you today?"

San sat down, clutching his notebook. "I wanted to talk more about the lecture on obsession," he began. "I've been thinking about it a lot, and I feel like it's something I can relate to on a personal level."

Y/N nodded, her expression attentive. "It's a common experience, especially in intense environments like university. It's important to recognize when these feelings start to impact your well-being and behavior."

San leaned forward, his eyes intense. "What if the obsession isn't harmful? What if it's just a deep admiration for someone who inspires you?"

Y/N's gaze softened, but there was a hint of caution. "Admiration is natural, San, but it's crucial to maintain healthy boundaries. It's easy for admiration to tip into obsession, which can become overwhelming for both the admirer and the object of their affection."

San's heart pounded in his chest. He wanted to tell her everything—to confess his feelings, to explain how every moment with her in class was a lifeline. But he knew he had to be careful, to not scare her away.

"I understand," he said finally, forcing a smile. 

"Good. Well, if that was all the questions you had, you are more than welcome to go about your day, Mr. Choi." She offered him a kind smile, one that always made his heart race and thoughts run wild.

For San, this smile was an invitation. He saw it as her wanting to spend more time with him. Being the obsessed person he was, he decided to take full advantage of that.

"Actually," he said, not getting up, "I was wondering if you had any additional reading recommendations related to the lecture? I find the topic so fascinating, and I want to explore it further."

Y/N seemed pleased by his eagerness to learn. "Of course, San. Let me write down a few titles for you." She turned to her bookshelf and began to jot down a list of books.

As she wrote, San's eyes roved over her office, noting the personal touches—a framed photo of her family, a vase of fresh flowers, a mug that read "World's Best Professor." These details made him feel closer to her, as if he were getting a glimpse into her private world.

Y/N handed him the list. "These should give you a deeper understanding of the psychological aspects of obsession and admiration."

"Thank you, Professor Y/N," San said, taking the paper from her. He lingered for a moment longer, searching for another reason to stay.

"Is there anything else, San?" she asked, her tone still polite but with a hint of impatience.

"No, that's all for now," he replied, standing up reluctantly. "Thank you for your time."

As he left her office, San felt a mix of triumph and frustration. He had managed to spend a little more time with her, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough. His mind churned with thoughts of their next encounter and how he could deepen their connection.

As the days went by, San's obsession intensified. He found himself thinking about Y/N constantly, his thoughts consumed by her smile, her voice, her presence. He started to follow her routine more closely, noting the times she left her office, the paths she took around campus, and the places she frequented.

One evening, San decided to take things a step further. He waited outside the café where he knew she liked to unwind after a long day. He positioned himself at a table near the back, hidden from immediate view but with a clear sightline to her usual spot by the window.

When Y/N arrived, San's heart skipped a beat. She ordered her usual drink and settled down with a book. He watched her intently, imagining what it would be like to sit across from her, to share in her quiet moments.

After a while, Y/N glanced up and saw San. Her expression registered surprise, and she gave him a polite nod. San took this as a sign. He stood up and walked over to her table, trying to appear casual.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor Y/N," he said with a smile.

Y/N looked up, clearly caught off guard. "San, what a surprise. Do you come here often?"

"Sometimes," he lied, "when I need a break from studying. Do you mind if I join you?"

Y/N hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. "Sure, have a seat."

San's heart soared as he sat down. They talked about mundane things—classes, upcoming exams, favorite books. San soaked up every word, every gesture, feeling an intoxicating closeness to her.

As the evening wore on, Y/N glanced at her watch. "I should get going. It was nice chatting with you, San."

"Likewise, Professor," he said, standing up as she did. "Maybe we can do this again sometime?"

Y/N smiled politely. "Perhaps. Goodnight, San."

San watched her leave, his mind already planning their next encounter. He was convinced that she was starting to see him in a different light, that their relationship was progressing just as he had hoped. The line between admiration and obsession had long since blurred, and San was unable to see the reality of his actions.

San made sure to keep a safe distance, his footsteps light and deliberate. The evening was cool, the streets dimly lit by streetlights. His heart pounded with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but his obsession with Y/N had clouded his judgment.

San's mind raced with thoughts, he imagined her looking out the window of her room and seeing him, a moment of recognition where she understood his devotion. He was always there for her, always watching, always waiting.

As Y/N walked through the quiet streets, San followed closely, hiding in the shadows. She was completely oblivious to his presence, her mind likely occupied with the day's events and the tasks awaiting her at home. San's eyes were fixed on her, every step bringing him closer to the culmination of his fantasies.

When Y/N finally reached her apartment building, she fumbled with her keys before disappearing inside. San lingered across the street, his gaze locked on her window. San pictured their life together—a life where he could take care of her, love her, and be the one she turned to every night. He imagined them having arguments, as all couples do, but he would always yield, always let her win. And in the end, she would kiss him goodnight, a gesture of their unbreakable bond.

He stood there for what felt like hours, waiting for a glimpse of her through the window. The anticipation gnawed at him, feeding his delusions. He wanted to believe that his persistence would eventually be rewarded, that she would see him as the devoted lover he was convinced he could be.

As the night grew colder, San's resolve only strengthened. He would wait for as long as it took, convinced that his unwavering dedication would break through any barriers between them. He knew he had to be careful, to not get caught, but the risk only added to the thrill. His obsession had taken root deep within him, and there was no turning back.

This had now become a tradition for him, every day he would follow her to the cafe and then follow her home and keep on eye on her window, taking note of her nightly routine. However, this night was different. Instead of Y/N being in her home office for an hour or two, she quickly disappeared to where her bathroom was. San watched as she walked around her bedroom, gathering clothes and then disappearing to her bathroom again. She was going out, she had to have been. Every time she reappeared, something about her was different. She walked out once in her robe, another time she was wearing different clothes, and the last time she had her hair and he assumes her makeup done as well. 

San's heart raced with anticipation. He needed to know where she was going. The idea of her being out without him, possibly meeting someone else, gnawed at his mind. He needed to be closer, to be a part of her world in a more intimate way.

San's eyes remained glued to her apartment as he saw a Y/N leave. He waited patiently on the corner, hiding in the shadows. It was easy to slip across the street and into the building. He had watched her routine long enough to know when the coast was clear. Landing on his feet, he moved with a practiced ease.

He entered the building through the back, navigating the hallways silently until he reached her door. With a few deft movements, he picked the lock and slipped inside, his heart pounding in his chest. The thrill of being in her space, surrounded by her scent and belongings, was intoxicating.

San moved through the kitchen, looking for something to eat, not because he was hungry, but because it made him feel more connected to her. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed an apple, taking a bite as he wandered through her apartment. He examined everything closely, memorizing the details he hadn’t been able to see from outside.

As he walked into her bedroom, he saw the clothes she had been trying on earlier strewn across the bed. He reached out and touched them, feeling the fabric between his fingers. His gaze then fell on her vanity, where her makeup and perfume bottles were neatly arranged. He picked up a bottle of her favorite perfume, inhaling deeply, the scent filling his senses and further fueling his obsession.

San knew he needed to leave something behind, a small token that would let her know he had been there, without causing her too much alarm. He scanned the room, looking for the perfect item. His eyes settled on a small photo frame on her bedside table. It was a picture of her with a group of friends, laughing and happy. He carefully placed it on her pillow, making sure it was slightly tilted, just enough for her to notice.

Before leaving, San walked through the living room, his eyes landing on a book she had been reading. He picked it up, flipping through the pages, and then set it back down, slightly askew. He wanted her to know he had been there, to feel his presence even when she couldn't see him.

He left her apartment the same way he had come in, making sure everything was as he had found it, except for the small changes he had made. When Y/N returned home late that night, tired but content from her evening out, she immediately sensed something was off. She noticed the photo frame on her pillow, the book slightly out of place. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized someone had been in her home.

Her first instinct was to call the police, but then she saw the small changes—so personal, almost intimate. It was as if someone wanted to leave a message. She felt a chill run down her spine, wondering who it could be and why they had chosen to invade her personal space.

She picked up the photo frame from her pillow, staring at it with a mix of confusion and fear. The feeling of being watched, of someone knowing her routine so well, was deeply unsettling. She looked around her apartment, trying to see if anything else was out of place.

Y/N decided to change her locks the next day and maybe even install a security system. She couldn't shake the feeling that whoever had been here would come back.

As his obsession deepened, San's grades and social life began to suffer. He stopped spending time with his friends, opting instead to follow Y/N's every move and decipher the "messages" she was sending him. His coursework in other classes slipped, and even in Y/N’s class, he started falling behind, too absorbed in his fantasies to focus on the actual material.

Y/N, concerned about San's sudden decline in performance, decided to have a one-on-one session with him. She hoped to understand what was going on and help him get back on track, unaware that this interaction would only add fuel to the fire of his obsession.

San walked into Y/N's office, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and anxiety. This was what he had been waiting for—a chance to be alone with her, to feel her undivided attention. Y/N greeted him with a warm smile, gesturing for him to take a seat.

"San, I've noticed your grades have been slipping recently," she began, her tone gentle yet firm. "You're one of my brightest students, and it concerns me to see you struggling. Is everything okay?"

San's eyes lit up at her concern, interpreting it as a sign of her deepening affection for him. "I'm sorry, Professor L/N," he said softly. "I've just had a lot on my mind lately."

Y/N nodded, leaning forward slightly. "I understand that college can be overwhelming. If there's anything specific troubling you, I'm here to help."

San took a deep breath, his heart racing. He wanted to pour out his feelings, to tell her everything, but he knew he had to be careful. "It's just...sometimes I feel like I can't concentrate on anything."

Y/N's expression shifted to one of concern. "That sounds really tough. You know, It's important to find a balance. Is there anything specific that's been distracting you?"

San hesitated, his mind racing. He knew he couldn’t tell her the truth, not directly. “It’s just… personal stuff,” he said vaguely. “But it’s like, in your class, I feel a connection. Like, I can really understand what you’re teaching because you make it so interesting.”

Y/N offered a sympathetic smile. “I’m glad you find the class engaging, but it’s important to make sure your focus isn’t solely on one thing. Have you considered talking to a counselor? They might be able to help you manage your stress and find ways to balance everything better.”

San shook his head, feeling a pang of frustration. He didn’t need a counselor; he needed her to understand. “I don’t think a counselor can help. It’s more than just stress. It’s like… I feel like you’re the only one who really gets me.”

Y/N’s concern deepened, but she kept her voice calm. “San, it’s great that you feel a connection in class, but it’s important to have support from multiple sources. Have you talked to your friends about how you’re feeling?”

San’s expression darkened. “My friends don’t understand. They think I’m just being weird.”

Y/N took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. “Well, It’s important for you to build a support network outside of academic relationships. I would recommend taking this weekend to spend some time with them. Holidays are around the corner too, maybe try connecting with your family. I know you've mentioned in the past how close you are to your grandparents, why not give them a call? ”

San’s heart sank, but he forced a smile. “I understand. I’ll try to focus more on my other classes and talk to my friends.”

Y/N nodded, relief evident in her eyes. “That’s good to hear. Remember, my office hours are always open if you need help with class-related issues, but for personal matters, it’s best to seek out a counselor or talk to those close to you.”

As San left her office, his mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Her words had been clear, yet he twisted them in his mind, convinced that she was simply being cautious because of their roles. He saw her concern as further proof of her feelings for him, believing that she was trying to protect him in her own way. To San, this was her way of saying that their connection was too special to be publicly acknowledged.

San started writing lengthy, impassioned letters to Y/N, which he never sent but kept hidden in his room. He recorded her lectures, playing them back repeatedly to catch any nuances he might have missed. Each lecture was analyzed for hidden meanings, every smile or comment dissected and interpreted as a message meant for him.

His friends, noticing his drastic change, tried to intervene. "San, you're scaring us," one of them said during a rare group meeting. "You need to get help. This isn't healthy." But San brushed them off, convinced that they didn't understand the depth of his connection with Y/N. He stopped attending social gatherings altogether, isolating himself in his obsession.

One evening, as he was listening to a recording of Y/N's latest lecture, he heard what he believed to be a hidden message. "Sometimes, the things we desire most are right in front of us, but we have to be careful not to let our desires consume us," she had said.

To San, this was a clear sign. She was acknowledging their connection, warning him to be patient. But his patience was wearing thin. He needed to act, to show her that he understood her signals and was ready to take their relationship to the next level.

That night, driven by his delusions, San decided to visit Y/N's apartment once more. He had convinced himself that he needed to see her, to prove his devotion. He waited outside her building, his heart racing as he watched the lights go out one by one.

When he was sure she was alone, he approached the building, slipping inside as someone exited. San's heart pounded in his chest as he approached Y/N's apartment door. He had been so sure that tonight was the night to act, to prove his devotion and show her that he understood the secret messages she was sending him. But as he stood outside her door, ready to knock, he heard voices inside.

One voice was unmistakably Y/N's, but the other was an unknown male. San's stomach twisted with a mixture of jealousy and rage. Who could she be with at this hour? What did this mean for their supposed connection?

He pressed his ear against the door, straining to hear their conversation. The male voice was deep and unfamiliar, and they seemed to be discussing something mundane—work, perhaps. The rational part of San's mind tried to reason that it could be a colleague or a friend, but the obsessive part of him latched onto the idea that this man was a threat to his relationship with Y/N.

San felt a surge of desperation. He had to know who this man was, and more importantly, what he meant to Y/N. His mind raced with paranoid thoughts, each one feeding his growing delusion. Maybe this was a test, he thought. Maybe Y/N wanted to see how much he cared, how far he was willing to go for her.

Driven by this twisted logic, San decided to wait. He moved to a shadowed corner of the hallway, where he could see the door but remain hidden. He would wait for the man to leave, and then he would confront Y/N. He would make her understand that they were meant to be together.

As the minutes ticked by, San's mind churned with increasingly frantic thoughts. He replayed every interaction he had ever had with Y/N, looking for clues and signs. He convinced himself that this man was a temporary obstacle, someone Y/N was using to test his devotion.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door opened. San held his breath as the man stepped out. He was tall, well-dressed, and completely unfamiliar. The man said something to Y/N, who crossed through the doorway, and she laughed—a sound that sent a pang of jealousy through San.

San watched as they both walked down the hallway and disappeared around the corner. Waiting a few moments to ensure they were gone, San moved swiftly and silently to Y/N's apartment door. His heart pounded in his chest as he tried the handle, finding it unlocked. With a mixture of excitement and guilt, he slipped inside, closing the door softly behind him.

The apartment was dimly lit, and everything was eerily quiet. San's senses heightened as he moved through the familiar space, searching for anything that would deepen his understanding of Y/N and their supposed bond.

He started in the bedroom, where he knew Y/N kept personal items. He rifled through drawers and shelves, looking for something that spoke of her private life. His hands trembled as he found a small box hidden under her bed. Opening it cautiously, he discovered a wallet-sized picture of Y/N with her family—a snapshot of happiness frozen in time.

San's heart swelled with possessiveness as he slipped the picture into his pocket. He continued his search, finding a strip of photos from a photobooth, tucked away in another compartment of the box. These glimpses into Y/N's personal life fueled his delusion, convincing him that he was meant to be a part of her world.

In his relentless quest for more, San stumbled upon a notebook on Y/N's desk. Flipping through its pages, he found scribbled notes and reminders, but what caught his eye was her phone number written on a post-it note stuck to the inside cover.

A rush of triumph surged through him as he carefully peeled off the post-it note and pocketed it, feeling a sense of power knowing he now possessed a direct connection to Y/N.

But underneath the thrill, a nagging doubt tugged at San's mind. Was this really the right thing to do? He pushed aside the guilt, justifying his actions with the belief that he was simply proving his commitment to Y/N, showing her that he understood her on a level no one else could.

Leaving Y/N's apartment with his newfound treasures, San felt a mixture of exhilaration and fear. He knew he was crossing a line, but his obsession had clouded his judgment. Little did he realize, his actions were pushing him further away from the connection he so desperately craved, instead solidifying his descent into a dangerous obsession.

As San left Y/N's apartment, his mind raced with a mixture of emotions. The thrill of finding personal mementos and tangible connections to Y/N clashed with a growing sense of guilt and unease. He couldn't shake the feeling that what he had done was wrong, that he had violated Y/N's privacy in the most intimate way possible.

Outside, the night air felt cold against his skin, matching the chill that had settled in his heart. He walked quickly, the stolen items burning in his pockets like weights dragging him down. Every step seemed heavier than the last, each one a reminder of how far he had strayed from reality.

As he approached his own apartment building, San's thoughts spiraled. He pulled out the wallet-sized photo of Y/N with her family and stared at it, feeling a pang of longing mixed with possessiveness. He had wanted to feel closer to her, to understand her better, but now he felt farther away than ever.

Entering his apartment, San locked the door behind him and sank onto the couch. The weight of what he had done pressed down on him, suffocating him with guilt. He laid out the stolen items on the coffee table—the photo, the strip of photobooth pictures, and the post-it note with Y/N's phone number.

Looking at them now, they seemed more than just objects. They were symbols of his obsession, of his misguided belief that he could possess Y/N's affection through sheer determination. But instead of feeling closer to her, he felt further away. He had crossed a line he couldn't uncross, and now he was alone with the consequences.

San's phone buzzed, startling him out of his reverie. It was a message from one of his friends, asking where he had been and if everything was okay. He hesitated, fingers hovering over the keys. How could he explain what he had done? How could he tell them about the darkness that had consumed him, driving him to such desperate measures?

Instead of replying, San turned off his phone and buried his face in his hands. Shame and regret washed over him in waves. He knew he had to confront what he had done, to face the reality of his actions. But the fear of losing Y/N, of losing the fantasy he had built around her, kept him paralyzed.

Hours passed as San sat alone in the dimly lit apartment, lost in his thoughts. The stolen items lay abandoned on the table, accusing him silently. Finally, exhaustion overtook him, and he drifted into an uneasy sleep, haunted by dreams of Y/N's disappointment and rejection.

In the days that followed, San wrestled with his conscience. He avoided Y/N's classes, unable to face her knowing what he had done. His grades continued to suffer, and he withdrew further into isolation. His friends grew increasingly worried, but he pushed them away, unable to explain the turmoil raging inside him.

Y/N, unaware of the intrusion into her life, continued with her routines. Yet a lingering unease settled over her, a sense that something was amiss. She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, of a presence hovering at the edges of her life.

Meanwhile, San's obsession with Y/N only intensified. The stolen items became talismans, symbols of his unrequited love and the lengths he was willing to go to prove himself worthy of her. He spent hours staring at the photo of her family, imagining himself as part of their world. He dialed her number repeatedly, but never had the courage to press call.

Deep down, San knew he was spiraling out of control. His obsession had consumed him, distorting his sense of reality and driving him to dangerous extremes. Yet he couldn't stop himself. He was trapped in a cycle of longing and regret, unable to break free.

Finals had just been completed, and grades had been finalized for the semester. With all the important tasks completed, Y/N could finally relax. With the day off, Y/N decided to sleep in. The past few months had been stressful, with students having finals or failing grades, and then the incidences of break in's to her apartment had been a lot for her. Though recently, she hadn't felt uneasy, at night she hasn't felt eyes watching her every move. 

Deciding not to think too much about it, she starts getting ready for the day. Seeing the weather was nice outside, she put on a pair of sweatpants and hoodie so she could go for a small walk. When she steps outside her apartment door, her feet stop in their tracks after seeing a small box laying in front of it. She picks it up and brings it inside and opens it, thinking it was an online purchase she simply forgot about. Once opened though, Y/N's heart drops. Inside were photos of her and her current boyfriend. 

Some of them were of when they were at dinner, some were when they were in his car about to leave somewhere, and some were of them in her apartment. Along with the photos was a note. 

I memorized your number, now I'll call you when I please. I tried to end it all, but now I'm back up on my feet. I saw you in the car with someone else and couldn't sleep. If something happens to him, you can bet that it was me. 

Thanks for reading!! I started listening to the new Billie Eilish song and one of the songs called 'The Diner' really intrigued me. I liked how she made it from the stalkers perspective instead of the other way around like most artists do so that's how this was born. If you like this story please check out my Eternal Sunshine series as well to see my other work.

[jonathanbyersphd]

Jancy Nancy Drew (2019) AU Moodboard

for @jancyweeks Day 4: 2000s

[jadewritesficshere]

What if for a moment

Steve Harrington x female!reader

Contains: drinking and being hungover, flirting, "unrequited" love (its not unrequited its just fear of change), female!reader wearing a bra, getting together, Steve calls reader "Honey", references reader (and Robin) stealing Steve's clothes.

18+ only

Your conscious slowly wakes up. Your head pounding, spinning even as you lay still. You inhale slowly, trying to steady yourself. Trying to remember what happened last night. The scent of Steve's cologne permeates your senses.

It's calming, albeit a little confusing. You start to open your eyes, but the light causes your head to hurt worse. You scrunch your eyes shut and shift in the bed. Moving causes you to notice the weight of something wrapped around your waist.

Your eyes snap open, Steve's sleeping face laid on the pillow next to yours. His arm wrapped around you, holding you close.

He looks so soft like this, so vulnerable. Hair messed up, sticking up in all directions. The subtle tension he holds in his eyebrows is gone, not a line of worry or stress on his face. His lips are slightly parted, soft exhales escaping along with a hint of drool.

You can feel your face warm. It takes everything in you not to fidget, you don't want to wake him up. You feel you shouldn't see him in such a state.

You've been friends for years, but waking up in bed like this? It's too much. Too...intimate.

You close your eyes, and for a moment, imagine this is normal.

What if those years ago, you didn't dismiss Steve asking you on a date because you thought it was a joke. What if at the last party, when you kissed, you didn't pretend nothing had happened the next day like you had the last five times it happened. What if you were honest about your feelings, your unfading love for him. What if you weren't afraid and took that leap?

You think it would be like this. Waking up wrapped in the embrace of your love. Soft smiles and kisses. You can see it clearly, you laughing as you push away, claiming you needed to brush your teeth. Steve would pull you closer and kiss all over your face. You would kiss back, brushing your teeth all but forgotten.

You'd make breakfast together. Hands reaching out and gently touching each other as you moved about the kitchen. He'd come up behind you, hands on your hips, pulling you into him. He'd gently sway with you to music, whether he hums a song or it's playing on the radio.

You'd giggle and turn so you could wrap your arms around him. You'd watch a smile spread across his face, corners of his eyes wrinkling from how wide he's smiling. Your eyes would dart down, you'd like your lips. You'd both be smiling, trying to purse your lips enough as you'd go to kiss-

"You're staring," Steve mumbles, snapping you out of your thoughts. He moves his hand off your waist and rubs his eyes. "Sorry," you whisper, feeling embarrassed at being caught.

"Don't be. I like it." Steve grins slightly at you before stretching," What time is it?". Your heart is beating faster- he likes it!- as you turn to look at the clock. You can't tell if he actually means it and is flirting or if he's just charismatic.

You told Robin that once. She stared at you for a full minute before calling you an idiot and walking away.

"It's almost ten," You sit up. The blanket tumbles down as you stretch your arms. You can hear Steve's sharp inhale. Your eyes snap to look at him. His mouth is slightly open, eyes wide, as he stares at your chest.

You look down, seeing your bright red bra. "Oh my god," you snatch the blanket up, covering yourself instantly. You hide your face behind the blanket, only your wide eyes visible. "Sorry!" You both exclaim in unison.

Steve clears his throat as his eyes dart off to the side, scratching at his cheek absently," You, uh, have nothing to be sorry for. It's a good color on you. You look good- great! Great just lovely-" Steve winces," I'm gonna stop talking now."

"Uh thanks...where's my shirt?" You ask softly. You like that Steve seems flustered, that he likes what he sees. But you also want to jump out the window and run down the street to get out of his sight. Yes, you've imagined him seeing you like this, but not in this context. This is just embarrassing.

"Uh...let me think," Steve's brow furrows as he frowns. "We were at a bar..."

"Celebrating Eddie's new job." You supply. You remember this clearly. Trying a fruity drink with Robin, doing shots as a group, getting your usual drink. It gets a bit fuzzy as the night goes on.

"Yeah yeah...did some shots, which damn i do not remember feeling this bad the day after." "Yeah, no, me neither."

Steve hums," There was a fight right?" "Oh yeah!" It's like watching a movie as the memory comes back. Two idiots at the bar started fighting, a glass getting thrown near you. Steve had pushed you behind him defensively. He was tense and ready to fight if need be, but you were more focused on how his ass popped in those jeans. You could not tell him that. But what happened next-

"Hopper showed up. He sighed real heavily when he saw us, cause we were drunker then a skunk." You chuckle slightly remembering his disapproving face.

Steve snaps his fingers and points at you," Yes! He took us home. Dropped Eddie off first, then Robin." You nod in agreement.

Steve pauses, looking at you as if he can see through the blanket you were hiding behind," Do you remember what happened in the car?" "No?!" Your voice comes out strangled, "Why, what happened?" Steve's face flushes and he looks away," Don't worry about it."

Then it hits you. You can see it all clearly. Like the last few times yall had drank together, you kissed Steve. Or Steve kissed you, you don't remember that part clearly. But you can remember his lips on yours. His hands running up your sides, you practically climbing on top of him. "Hey hey hey!" Hopper yelled. The slam of the brakes threw you off of Steve and against the front seats. "Don't you dare have sex in my car!"

You want to scream. Of course you kissed Steve, again, but in front of Hopper? With his disappointed angry dad vibes? You have to leave town and assume a fake identity, you can never face Hopper again.

"Well we made it home," Steve announces," And you said you were tired." You clear your throat. You had said that. Practically fell on your way up the stairs, Steve stumbling behind you trying to help.

"And we came in here and got in bed," you look around Steve's room and see your shirt crushed on the floor," I said I was hot and threw my shirt." "Yeah, and then you passed out. Not like actually passed out, you just said good night and went to sleep."

Steve gets out of bed, groaning slightly as his back and knees crack, mumbling something about "in my twenties...damn upside down.."

His feet make light sounds as he pads over to your shirt. When he bends to grab it you do NOT watch his ass. You don't dart your eyes to the ceiling as soon as he stands.

Steve tosses your shirt at you, hitting you in the face. "Get dressed, I'll make breakfast. If you want to wear something else, feel free to steal something." "It's not stealing if you give me permission." Steve scoffs," I'll never see it again, between you and Robin it's a wonder i have any clothes at all."

You hold your middle finger up at Steve's retreating form. The door shuts with a quiet click and you can hear him make his way down the stairs. You swing your legs out of the bed and slowly stand.

You pad over to his dresser. There are many things covering the top. A trophy from baseball, crumpled dollar bills and some loose change, a mini calender, and some folded clean clothes. You pick up the sweatshirt and watch as something flutters to the ground.

You look down at the picture looking up at you. Jonathan must have taken it at the last get together when you were drunk. Steve's arm is slung over your shoulders, he's staring down at you. You're leaning into him, arms wrapping around his middle. Your smile is wide. You look so happy to be there. And Steve looks at you with-

You inhale. Love. Adoration. The look on Steve's face.

You weren't looking into things. He wasn't just kissing you when you were drunk because he didn't want to make you sad or because he was horny. He was kissing you because he wanted to. He has been flirting. Robin was right, you were an idiot

You throw the sweatshirt on and practically run down the stairs. "Whoa, where's the fire?" Steve calls from the kitchen. You rush in, colliding with him as he's walking out. You almost fall, Steve's large hands grasping you to steady you. Your hands grasp his shoulders.

Steve's eyes dart all over your face. "What-"

"I remember. In the car." You blurt out. Steve's eyes widen slightly as he blinks at you. He licks his lips, your eyes focusing in on the movement,"You do?"

"I said I didn't cause I thought that you'd regret it. That you were just appeasing me. But you weren't, were you?" You bite your lip. Steve lifts a hand to rest on your cheek, thumb lightly pulling your lip out of your mouth, "I wasn't appeasing you, I wanted to kiss you."

"Yeah?" "Yeah, Honey." "Do you still want to?" Steve grins at your question. His thumb retreats from your lip, hand on your cheek holding you steady as he leans in. His lips are just millimeters away, you can feel the warmth of his breath. He pauses for a moment, as if to give you a chance to change your mind.

You surge forward kissing him. His lips are so soft against yours. Steve groans slightly as he deepens the kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck, hand finding his hair and carding through it. He yanks you closer to him, flush to his body.

You feel a jolt of energy down your spine, a warmth spreading throughout. You moan slightly, and Steve wastes no time. His tongue enters your mouth, brushing against yours.

You weren't expecting it but you melt into his touch. You press closer into him, gasping lightly. Steve groans into the kiss before pulling back to catch his breath. Your brain has turned to mush as you look at his slightly swollen lips and his face that's flushed.

You pant lightly as you look up at him," I'm sorry it took so long for me to say it." "I could have too, I'm sorry I didn't Honey. Thought you knew." Steve moves his thumb back and forth on your cheek. It's comforting but sends a thrill down your spine. You can feel his chest expand against yours with every inhale he takes. You can feel his hardness pressed against you, making you weak in the knees.

"You're staring again," Steve murmurs. "Sorry." "Don't be, I like it." Steve repeats. "I like you. A lot. Like like. I also like kissing you," you start to ramble but stop when Steve chuckles.

"I like kissing you too. You know what? All that time we spent apart just makes this so much sweeter. And uh if I knew at the end of the day, that by waiting I'd get to have you? I'd wait for eternity. Even if I could be with you for only one moment. Because one moment with you surpasses all the moments without. You're worth it."

You blink up at Steve as he looks away," Is...is that too much?" "No Steve. It's perfect, you're perfect for me." You kiss him lightly, heart beating fast. Because you don't want to miss this moment with him. As he said, one moment with him surpasses all without.

And you know without a shadow of a doubt that you love Steve. You always have and you always will.

[antianakin]

You know what's something I wished fanon/fanfic/etc explored? The idea of clones, basically traveling the galaxy because of the war not only having their own traditions, but also picking up stuff and being taught things by various people they encounter. Not even necessarily like a culture/tradition. A planet's local militia taught a trooper how to weave grass during a long night waiting for orders.

Of course he brought this to his friends and now the whole battalion makes things from grass or leaves or thread. It's calming, it's fun, they experiment with materials.

The clones who've developed their own culture (not Mandalorian) but also enjoying learning and participating. Let them be happy and want to explore things beyond their DNA donors world. (I also enjoy the idea of them getting to relax and join in on fun, normal activities).

And the idea of different units having different traditions while also sharing them when they're deployed together is fun.

The idea of mindfulness being picked up from Jedi general's and everyone having a unique spin, either copying meditation or meditating while cleaning equipment.

Also I want people to appreciate the clones as their own people.

Yeah, I hardly EVER see the clones depicted as this really interesting mish mash of cultures due to potentially picking up a bunch of shit from civilian populations they meet and then just passing it around their own battalion which could then make it out to the GAR as a whole.

Weaving baskets is a cute one, it could also be something as simple as picking up new spices every time they land somewhere and so their food is this wild fusion cuisine of spices and maybe fruits/dried meats/nuts from all over the galaxy because they just pick up stuff that goes to the kitchens and the clones doing the cooking in the kitchens use whatever they've got available to try to make new dishes. And they end up perhaps getting really good at figuring out how to combine these different ingredients that, on paper, seem like they absolutely should NOT go well together and yet somehow they make it work. And so clone cuisine becomes its own completely unique thing. You could even compare it to Jedi cuisine where they probably end up combining things a lot themselves, but the Jedi would theoretically often have had more access to resources and time to learn whole dishes than the clones do so it's more that the Jedi prepare different specific dishes from a lot of cultures as opposed to the more fusion-style cuisine the clones have come up with.

Or games, it'd be so cute to have the clones picking up all these different sort-of idle games from different civilian children they meet, like gffa versions of hopscotch or hackey sack, maybe card games that aren't sabacc or board games that aren't dejarik but are more specific to this one planet or culture. Maybe the clones start coming up with their OWN card games as they go because they start getting bored of the few that they know and start getting creative from there.

And of course things like different styles of visual art like painting and tattooing and hair styles that they might pick up on and incorporate into their own style that either becomes very popular among the clones on its own or ends up sort-of hybridized and become its own unique clone specific spin on the artform rather than a direct imitation. Writing would be really cool, too, that they pick up things like novels or journals from different cultures and some of the clones start writing creatively and become really prolific among the GAR (and maybe the Jedi too) for their stories. Similar to before, they might start off sort-of imitating styles they see from other cultures, specific kinds of poetry or tropes, but then branch out and put their own spin on it or start combining different things they've learned from various cultures.

Some clones might end up sticking closer to one specific culture they've connected or that just matches their personal taste really well, while others embrace the fusion more, and everything in-between.

And of course we can bring the Jedi into it more, too, and have the Jedi constantly working to introduce the clones to more things, maybe things THEY know and love from various cultures that they think the clones would find fun or interesting. And not just that person's "birth culture" like Ahsoka teaching people about Togruta culture, but things from OTHER CULTURES that they themselves have experimented with and liked. Maybe Ahsoka has a Mon Cal skincare routine she fucking swears by, or a Zabrak meat dish that's her absolute favorite hands down because of how tender they cook it, or her favorite book is actually Rodian because she particularly loves Rodian romance novels. And she introduces the clones to THESE things as well because why wouldn't she? The Jedi have a smorgasbord of options available to them and their culture encourages learning and connecting as much as possible, something I imagine they'd do their best to pass on to the clones in any way available to them.

And of course the Jedi, as some of the only people really out there with the clones and interacting with them regularly, get to be the first to BENEFIT from the hybridization that the clones utilize and get to see more about how these different cultures they've learned and appreciated for so long can be combined in such new and different ways to create something entirely unique and beautiful, so they get to enjoy these things all over again and it's AWESOME! New favorite noodle dish that combined fish from Glee Anselm and spices from Pantora and noodles from Chandrila, new favorite poem that has elements of Naboo and Ryloth in it, new knitted scarf that combined a knitting style from Lothal and a pattern from Shili.

And I've been going more for physical material things so far like food and stuff, but you can include things like slang they pick up from other cultures or maybe rituals of some kind they saw someone do that they asked about and got permission to participate in that they continue to practice afterwards because it's nice and calming.

The interesting part about the clones is that they don't have a "birth" culture to go back to. They were raised in a very sterile environment where everything they were exposed to was something very specific and aimed towards a certain goal. So they might have a favorite fighting move from the ones they were taught on Kamino or a favorite ship to fly of the ones they were taught to use for war, but it would be SO incredibly limited to what the Kaminoans wanted them to learn and not intended to become something the clones really connected to culturally. The Kaminoans themselves clearly HAVE a culture of sorts, they seem to share a style of fashion at least and probably an architectural style, but this isn't something that was passed on to the clones or that they would've been allowed to ever really participate in (beyond maintenance to the buildings, but they wouldn't have gotten a say in things like paint colors or additions to the building for cosmetic reasons, etc). And of course I don't think canon supports the idea that the clones really had a lot of connection to Mando culture and certainly nothing that supports the concept that they would consider it their "birth" culture. Jango barely seems to have passed any sort of Mando heritage on to BOBA, so it seems INCREDIBLY unlikely he'd have passed anything significant on to the clones he DIDN'T consider his son. And the Mando trainers are a legends thing these days, and were never canon anyway, so their exposure to Mando culture would be even more limited than their exposure to Kaminoan culture quite honestly.

All of which means the clones don't really have a firm basis of a birth culture from which to start on and then sort-of experiment out from. They're almost entirely open to whatever they discover or are introduced to in terms of culture. They're not Mando, they're not Kaminoan, they're their OWN THING and they can literally incorporate just about anything and everything into the culture they choose to build and that's SUCH a cool thing to look at and to explore and I don't know if I've really seen that much of it in fics. Especially via the Jedi who are their own massively multi-cultural society and can take the opportunity to really widen the clones' horizons in so many ways.

[wannabespacesmuggler]

Small Talk and Mediocre Coffee | Strike Out

Chapter Fifteen | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: You recently moved to Storybrooke and began working the morning shift at Granny’s diner. Meanwhile, Killian Jones has been working the night shift on the docks of Storybrooke for years. When his routine gets turned upside down, he begins to understand the simple joy brought by an early cup of coffee, as long as you’re the one pouring it.

Pairing: Killian Jones x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.5K

Extras: Playlist – A playlist for two idiots in love: a gruff outcast who hates coffee but now drinks it every morning because the waitress at the diner keeps smiling at him as they pour it.

Author’s Note: Decided to use my day off to work on a little holiday update for Small Talk and Mediocre Coffee. I'm actually really happy with how this one came out. Happy Holidays friends, I hope this brings you a little bit of joy! Also, I know some of my tags have been acting funky so let me know if they worked this time. Idk if it's just tumblr being weird or something on my end, but I'll try to fix it as best I can.

“You made it!” 

You let out a laugh as you’re tackled by a hug from Henry. You’re glad the game hasn’t started yet. After finishing your shift, you moved as quickly as you could to the school in hopes of catching Henry before the game began. 

“Of course I did!”

Henry pulls away and moves back to Regina’s side, who he was talking to before you arrived. You’ve met Regina before. She’s not quite a regular at the diner like Killian, Emma, and David, but she has come in a few times with Henry to grab dinner.

“Thank you for coming. Henry was so excited when you said you’d be here. He couldn’t stop talking about it all week.”

Henry’s face flushes as Regina speaks. He immediately crosses his arms over his chest, defiantly. 

“I did not!”

Luckily, he’s saved from further embarrassment as his coach calls him over to his team’s bench leaving you and Regina in awkward silence. Every time you’ve interacted with the mayor, Henry has been there to facilitate conversation. You shift on your feet and Regina seems to notice immediately.

“Emma, David, and Mary are already in the stands.”

She motions behind her and you give her a thankful nod before moving in that direction. It seems like the whole town has come out to watch the game today. The stands are packed with familiar faces from the diner who smile at you as you pass by. Eventually, you spot Emma in the crowd. She smiles at you as you make your way over and nudges Killian with her shoulder who is sitting beside her on the edge of the bleachers. 

Killian’s dark locks are covered by a light blue baseball cap that perfectly matches the t-shirt he’s wearing. You recognize the logo on both immediately as it’s the mascot for Henry’s team -- the Storybrooke Knights. It’s a stark contrast from his usual dark attire, but you have to admit that it’s undeniably cute how much he supports Henry. 

After receiving hugs from David and Mary, Emma slides toward her parents and lets you take a seat between Killian and herself.

“You guys are making me feel left out here!”

You complain to Emma while motioning toward her shirt which has the same suit of armor depicted on Killian’s. Emma lets out a laugh before placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“Don’t worry about it, Henry’s just excited you’re able to make it.”

Wordlessly, Killian takes off the baseball cap he was wearing and places it gently on your head. You pull your attention away from Emma and look at him. He’s already looking at you and you attempt to hide the way your face flushes due to the tenderness in Killian’s actions.

“Can’t have anybody thinking you’re rooting for the other team.”

You playfully roll your eyes at the man and bump his shoulder with yours, earning a hearty laugh from Killian in response. 

Henry’s team ends up winning by a landslide in their first game of the season and the town is loud with their celebration. Emma invites you and Killian to ice cream, but you both decline, deciding that it’s more of a family affair. She gives you a hug before heading toward Henry and her parents, leaving just you and Killian together. Before you can ask him what he wants to do with the rest of the day, he slugs an arm around your shoulders and pulls you toward the direction of your bench by the docks. You smile and wrap an arm around his waist

You’re both mesmerized by the movement of the crashing waves. Usually, you find yourself at this bench with Killian late in the evening after the sun had already set. You haven’t had a chance to simply bask in the beauty of the ocean, as you’ve been so distracted by the night sky.

The silence between you and Killian is comfortable. You could spend hours just sitting here with him. However, a single thought has been bothering you incessantly over the last couple of days and you know you need to talk to Killian about it before you think yourself to death. 

“Killian?”

He hums in response next to you, not even bothering to turn his head. You’ve placed the baseball cap back on his head. A few strands of midnight black locks poke out from the hat, making him look younger than usual. Typically, Killian Jones exudes a gruff and weathered demeanor, but right now, bathed in sunset hues, he seems almost youthful in appearance. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Killian turns his head toward you. His features are flooded with concern: brow furrowed and jaw tight. Before speaking, his eyes roam over your face briefly, trying to get a read on you.

“Anything, love.”

“Are you happy?”

Killian’s expression quickly shifts into confusion. 

“What?”

You simply repeat your question, ignoring that you can practically hear your heart pounding in your chest. Killian leans back further into the bench as he takes a minute to genuinely think about your question. If Dr. Hopper asked him, Killian already has a bullshit answer ready. He’s good at that -- knowing exactly what to say to appease those around him. It’s a skill he picked up during those years running with Liam and his gang. But he’s not talking to Dr. Hopper or Liam. 

No, he’s talking to you. And he won’t bullshit you.

Killian supposes he should be happy. He’s got it pretty good here in Storybrooke -- a paying job and a decent place to call home. There have been times that he’s certainly had it far worse. He still refuses to think back to those lonely nights he spent locked up, wondering if he’d even have a life when he finally got out of there. He knows he should just be thankful for everything he’s been given and earned after his release, even if it isn’t the life he dreamed of when he was a younger man. Still, there is this thought in the back of his head that continues to gnaw at him: is this it? The thought terrifies him to his core; however, if there is one thing that does make him content with the life he’s created, it’s the people who he cares for -- David, Emma, Mary, Henry, little Neal, Herc, you. 

So, to answer your question, Killian simply shrugs his shoulders.

“I guess. Nothing to complain about, I suppose.”

You nod at his words. He’s not sure if that’s the answer you wanted, but it’s as truthful as he can be. 

“Why do you ask?”

The ghost of a smile pulls at your lips as you think back to the conversation you had with Henry. You decide to take a page out of Henry’s book and be brazen. 

“It’s just something Henry said earlier this week. He said that you’ve seemed happier since you met me.”

A smile spreads across Killian’s face as you speak. The boy certainly takes after his grandfather in one way: he can read Killian like a goddamn picture book. Henry may be young, but his intuition is far beyond his years. 

“Well, love, the young lad isn’t wrong.” 

Your grin widens as a flush creeps up your face. You reach out and place your hand on Killian’s -- your silent way of telling him that you’re happier because of him too. Before you have a chance to pull your hand back, Killian flips his over and laces his fingers with yours. Your face flushes entirely as you look at your intertwined hands. Eventually, you shift your gaze to Killian’s face and find that he is already looking at you. Your breath catches in your throat. No one has ever looked at you with such adoration before. You watch as Killian’s gaze moves from your eyes to your lips. Deciding to continue your sudden boldness, you lean in first. Killian happily takes your lead. You close your eyes in anticipation, but, before Killian can get any closer, his phone begins ringing.

You swear you hear Killian growl as he pulls away from your orbit and pulls his phone out of his pocket. As Killian answers the call, you let out the breath you were holding. You know he’s frustrated -- his tone is short and his jaw is clenched. Without thinking, you intertwine your fingers with his again. His posture immediately relaxes at the sudden physical contact. He turns and gives you an apologetic look. You simply squeeze his hand in response, before letting go as he hangs up. Killian lets out a long sigh before speaking. 

“That was Herc. We’re getting a big shipment tonight and they need an extra man at the docks to help out.”

You nod, trying to hide your disappointment; however, it is written all over your face. Killian frowns at the sight. 

“I’m sorry I have to go, princess.”

“It’s okay. Herc needs you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with that, just as quick as it began, the moment was gone.

Tags: @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @alexa-fangirl-forever @mossnomori @captainamericasinnocence @fictionalhoomanofnowhere @ceruleanrainblues @lily-d247 @victoria-a567 @drinkfantasy @thisismelayla @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @rinymichelle321 @aesteticthotiere @popcrone818 @helplesslydevoted @limelightliterature @unlikelyandrogynousghost @theslytherinwriter

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

you know, in retrospect, listening to this week’s episode while I’m going out for lunch probably wasn’t a great idea

[transxfiles]

the local femmes are HUNGRY today my god

[ruvviks]

WELCOME TO BLIGHTWOOD CROSSING. DON'T LOOK BACK

taglist (opt in/out): @shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @hibernationsuit, @stars-of-the-heart, @vvanessaives, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman, @celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister, @dameaylin, @killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic

[psygull]

First Snow (2006)

"Hey, they say it's gonna fuckin' snow down here this year, can you believe that?"

[spnintheyearofourlord]

I know in my heart Sam and Jess bullied each other so hard

[cremn-podcast]

CREMN

Hello! this is a personal project of mine [ @kitsunebite ]

it is a fiction horror podcast set in a run-down diner in the middle of no-where arizona where 4 people were unwillingly transported after having nowhere else to go now they have to grapple with the supernatural all the while trying to keep secrets from their seemingly all knowing boss and attempting to escape

this is my first ever public project and I am super excited [and scared] If I ever make a mistake or represent anyone wrong please let me know!

The story most likely will continue to develop and change please expect nothing right now to be completely set in stone

I will try to work on this as much as possible and try to keep this blog up to date but

I am one person with one insanity enabler [ @vasebirddoodles ]

EDIT:

I have made a discord server I do not expect this to gain any traction at all but I need a better way to communicate with the ones that do care

please dm me if this link does not work

https://discord.gg/DjMbdthjk9

[clochanam]

i do love the idea of people applying to work at the diner and they come in and people are on their best behavior for like five minutes, and it's clear that aisling and stanley both sat and talked with the squad that morning bc "we need to stop this shite of cutting grilled cheese with longswords and buying antique china cups-- anthony i'm not fucking around, the petty cash is for little things, you spent $9,000 on teacups."

meanwhile the kids decide to sit at the booths and do their homework together so there's less room for customers, but advik decides to bring in some pigeons from outside "because we have some left over seeds and nuts from the cinnamon honey granola" and aisling has to close down the diner for three days to clean up and add another rule to the list that's posted on the group chat.