#Cartoon Print Fabric for Women

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Just Another Night at Sparky's

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tonight was no different:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The strange customers almost always seemed to come in pairs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He never meant any harm when it came to snooping.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Speak of the devil. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something seemed off. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mason gawked, fragments of words leaking through his teeth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[lpmurphy]

Spring in Tchakova Park

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Summary: Green was the color of the grass where he used to walk in Tchakova Park.

In which John meets a stranger in the park, Violet learns of the care and keeping of Spartans, and Cortana offers dating advice. (Complete 5/7/24)

Chapter Nine: Family Dynamics

Morning came far too early and was entirely unwelcome. Sadie came barreling back into the bedroom once the front door clicked shut behind John. She leaped onto the bed, licking Violet’s face and walking over her in encouragement to get out of bed for their morning run. Violet rolled onto her back, pushing the dog back with a groan as she looked over at the chrono; 4:05am. 

Violet flopped onto her back, pulling the sheets up as she pinched her eyes shut again, hoping for sleep to overtake her again. Her bedding smelled like sweat and the generic soap issued in the barracks that she had come to associate with him, Violet breathing in the scent. Before, the smell of it had taken her straight back to communal showers in the women’s locker room after soccer matches, but she wasn’t ready to remove herself from it, the bed still warm from where his body had been. Sleeping beside him had been like sleeping beside a furnace. Violet had slept tucked to him all night in his warm embrace, drinking in the lovely heat in the cool bedroom, his arms wrapped around her. 

Sadie’s tongue slipped into her ear, Violet gasping out in surprise and swatting the dog away as she rolled back over on her side. Her eyes fell to the chrono again, calculating just how long she could stay in bed without being too late for work. The chunk of her headboard sat beside the chrono, Violet’s lips twitching up into a smile at the sight of it. She reached out, taking the softball-sized handful of wood in her hand and giving it a long look. She rolled back onto her back, reaching up to feel the splintered edges of where his hand had been, a giggle escaping her lips. 

She needed a stronger bedframe, she concluded. She doubted ‘horny Spartan proof’ would be a viable search criteria when she started her shopping on the train.

Violet peeled herself from the bed, Sadie leaping off of it and trotting back to the front door. She stood, stepping over the pooled fabric of her dress where it had been left discarded on the floor and giving it a weak kick towards her hamper. She dressed unenthusiastically, wishing she could crawl back into bed into the warmth of his arms as she pulled her leggings on. Her hair felt sticky as she pulled it up, twisting it into a tight knot atop her head, her fingers dragging through the sweaty strands as she crossed the living room to the door, already dreaming of her post-run shower. Sadie sat in front of the door, lead gripped in her mouth as she watched Violet slip on her sneakers. Violet clipped the lead to Sadie’s harness before straightening up, rubbing her tired eyes with her fingers as she continued to will herself awake at the too early hour. She blinked hard, yawning before reaching to open the door. Her eyes focused on a slip of pale green on the door, the cartoon smile of the houseplant printed onto her sticky note pad staring back at her. She peeled it off the door, heart fluttering as she read over his neat all capital writing scrawled across it, a smiley face scribbled under his message;

See you tonight.  

---

Violet yawned hard, pressing a gloved hand to her open mouth. She was careful not to close her eyes as she yawned for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon, her near endless stream of coffee doing little to battle the exhaustion that had lingered since the night before. Audrey took the opportunity to strike, the carnifloria vorax lunging at her, snapping its needle like teeth. Violet raised a hand, catching the snappy bloom by its furry stem and giving it a shove back. She thumped the bloom with her finger, Audrey twisting away from her unhappily.

“Be nice,” Violet snapped, pointing a finger at the bloom that had begun to snap its teeth at her nastily. 

The plant lunged at her again, Violet keeping her finger raised as she followed its motions. She seized a stag beetle from the tank of the work table, giving it a toss to the plant who snapped it up happily. Violet sighed, flipping the plant off as she reached for an extraction kit. She held Audrey’s stem steady with one hand as she ate, stabbing the needle of her syringe into the plant’s venom sac with the other, pulling the plunger. Deep purple venom oozed into the syringe, Audrey snapping her jaws in protest. “Almost done,” Violet reassured her. 

She removed the syringe, yawning again as she tagged and labeled the venom sample before passing it off to the biology lab technician tasked with collecting it who had watched the whole extraction in horror. He took the vial with a shaking hand, his eyes still fixed on the carnivorous flower. Audrey snapped at him, the pale faced man letting out a startled gasp. Violet stepped between him and Audrey, flicking the bloom on the teeth. 

“No!” she hissed. The tech turned, practically running from the greenhouse and away from the plant that seemed to take glee out of his terror.

She yawned again, pulling off her heavy gloves and tossing them down onto the worktable. The leather pulled against her damaged fingers, Violet hissing out in discomfort as she flexed her hand. She had changed her bandages after her shower that morning, embarrassment pooling in her belly as she stared at the identical cuts that wouldn’t have occurred if she had been paying attention to the kitchen knife instead of stealing glances at the gorgeous man snoring on her sofa. She picked up the sweaty plastic cup of iced coffee she had been nursing since that morning from the work table, swallowing down the watered down drink, willing the caffeine to revitalize her. 

Her disrupted sleep didn’t bother her in the way it so usually would. She had spent the entire workday with the memory of his lips on hers crashing back into her mind, the way he had growled her name into the dark echoing through her head. She found her thoughts straying to the prior night during all of her tasks, some poor lab tech or horticulturist having to repeat her name to snap her back into the present. She didn’t care if she needed to get a direct IV of caffeine to stay awake, as long as every night ended that same way. 

Her pad chimed on the workstation, an incoming call flashing on her screen. Violet turned her back to the agitated plant, reading over the name of the caller. Harris Home , it read; her parent’s comm number displayed underneath the all caps writing and red heart emoticon beside it. She flicked it up, dismissing the call, making a mental note to call them back tomorrow. She set down her cup, turning towards the wriggling plant behind her. If plants could sneer, she assumed that would be the only way to describe the way Audrey twisted at her in annoyance. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Violet sighed, “Let’s get you back to your spot. Okay, girl?”

Violet turned, looking for the rolling cart she had used to transport Audrey from her spot in The Jungle to the workrooms. The cart was absent from where she had left it. 

“Can I get a cart to the workroom?” She called out to her staff, her voice echoing through the empty greenhouse. The chrono on the wall above her signaled that the day staff had left for the day, the next shift starting in ten minutes, leaving her alone to move the plant that stood as tall as she did back to its spot in the afternoon sunlight.  

She turned to Audrey, the plant baring its teeth at her again. “You need to get really cool really fucking fast,” she warned it as she crouched down to feel around the sturdy pot it sat in for a place to grip. Audrey snapped at her hair, catching her bun in its teeth and giving it a sharp tug. Violet let out a pained gasp, straightening up to smack the plant on the bloom and give it a nasty look.

“Need some help?”

She turned her head at the familiar gravelly voice, finding John standing over the other side of the worktable. Violet smiled up at him as she straightened up, wiping potting soil on her pant legs. He returned her smile, jerking his head at the plant that now watched him curiously.  “So,” he looked over Audrey, now baring her teeth at him, “This is the dickhead plant?” 

“In all of her glory,” she replied, “I’m surprised you remembered. You were already snoring by the time I started that part of my story.”

“I don’t snore, goose.”

She rolled her eyes, “Sure you don’t. I only had to listen to it all night.” She popped up onto her toes to kiss his cheek, John leaning down to accommodate her reach, “Hi. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hi,” he responded, “I was in the area. Figured I would come see if you were headed out.”

John’s eyes fell on the plant again, Audrey thrashing about in an attempt to establish herself as the dominant predator. He watched her blankly, head tilting as he examined her. Violet glanced at the chrono again, noticing her workday creeping to an end with a smirk. She knew that Spartans had no reason to be around the greenhouses at any given time of the day, much less twenty minutes before her workday ended.

She pointed to Audrey, John still assessing the plant, “I just have to get her back to her spot in the greenery and I should be set to leave. It seems that my day crew took shut down procedures a bit too seriously, though. I can’t find the cart I brought her over on, so I’ll have to track that down before I can head out.”

John took a curious step towards the plant, Audrey snapping her jaw at him. He leaned back, unfazed by the carniflora vorax’s agitated state as she attempted to bite him again. Violet jumped when the plant’s teeth snapped mere inches from his head, John reaching out a hand and grabbing Audrey by the stem, holding her trashing bloom steady as he picked up the pot in one hand. 

“Where do you want it?” he asked.

“Be careful! She bites.” Violet warned.

He simply lifted the pot to his shoulder as if the massive organism was weightless, watching her expectantly. He shrugged, “I’ve dealt with worse.”

He had her there. She waved him on, John following her through the paths of The Jungle into the greenery. Violet pointed to the empty spot the pot belonged to, John depositing the pot and dodging Audrey’s last attempt to snap at his ear, giving the plant an annoyed look. He straightened back up, looking to Violet with that smirk that she felt low in her belly, “Headed out now?”

“I still have fifteen minutes,” she said, smiling up at him, “So technically, I’m off now as long as you keep me hidden away from my staff. Let me get my stuff.”

John waited as she gathered her things, tucking her pad under her arm and I grabbing the thin fleece jacket she had worn on the walk from the train that morning off the back of her chair. She stepped beside him, John’s hand pressing against her lower back as they walked the winding paths to the exit. Audrey bared her teeth as they passed, Violet rolling her eyes. John glanced at the plant again, asking, “Why did they name it?”

“It’s from a super old movie. Well, a super old musical, really. It’s about this florist and a man-eating plant. I’ll spare you the details,” she explained. 

He nodded, removing his hand from her back as they approached the doors, stepping behind her as they stepped out onto the concrete. Violet turned to face him, glancing down at his undersuit. “Should I plan to meet you back at my place?” she asked.

He pointed in the opposite direction of the greenhouses in the direction of where the Spartan barracks were located on the other side of the base. “I just need to change. Come with me? We can walk back together.”

Violet followed his finger, looking up at him nervously. “Am I allowed to?” she asked quickly, unsure if her clearance gave her access to that portion of the base.

He chuckled, his hand finding her back again, “I’m allowing it.”

---

Violet had never felt more out of place in her entire thirty years of existence than she did standing in the quarters of Silver Team.

John led her into the barracks and she had to take a moment to collect herself upon entering. She remembered years of shared rooms; her freshman dorm and her room in the sorority her sophomore year that she had shared with three other girls. All had been bright messes of mingled personalities. But, the room felt almost sterile; beds made to perfection and not a single piece out of order, as if it had been sitting unoccupied rather than housing four individuals. There was not a single clue of those individuals in the room; not a single item that gave a bystander an inkling of who resided there save the supersized bunks made to support their size. Just gray walls, artificial lighting, and white bedding. It made her sad. She wondered if it had always been this way.

Violet followed John in, the door swishing shut behind them. She felt a small tinge of relief that they appeared to be alone within the room. One Spartan had been imposing enough when she had met him, but four felt like more than she could handle. Yet, if they all were like him under those hard exteriors…

John rummaged through the small wardrobe beside his bunk, pulling out a change of clothes. With a sharp tug, he yanked down the zipper of his undersuit, peeling the tight fabric down off of his arms. Violet averted her eyes for a moment, unsure if she was meant to watch, suddenly shy after the previous night’s events. However, her eyes lifted from the concrete floors to the hard muscles of his chest as he continued to undress in front of her, remembering how they had felt under her hands, the sounds of his whispered sighs in the dark of her room filling her head. John caught her gaze, his mouth lifting into a smirk as he tossed the undersuit on his bunk, “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” she asked, pulling her eyes from his body to his face, noticing the same heated look in his eyes from the night before. 

“That,” was his growled response, Violet feeling a heat in her belly at the sound. He stepped to her, tilting her chin up with his fingers, his eyes on her lips.

“Yeah? Or what?” she challenged. John lowered his lips to hers, but Violet leaned back, glancing between him and the door, “What about your team?”

“At dinner,” he replied, still studying her lips. 

Violet nodded, his lips brushing against hers, her hands coming to rest on his chest. She leaned into his kiss, a contented sigh escaping from her having waited for this moment all day. The moment was cut short, however, by the sound of the doors swishing open as his team returned. There was a gasped “Oh!”, and Violet jumped back at the sound of three people stepping out of the doorway, clearing their throats. She felt her cheeks go hot, looking up to John, whose own neck had turned red, his expression hardening as he looked to the open door.

“Permission to enter, Chief? Or should we come back later?” a female voice called out, Violet looking nervously between him and the door. 

John’s jaw set into a hard line as he looked beyond her, calling for his team to enter. Violet watched as the three Spartans entered, all watching her with the same curiosity they had the day prior when she stepped onto the lift, as if they were assessing if she was a threat. The blonde, Kai, she remembered, looked to John with a smug smirk as she entered which he did not return. Violet gave them a small uncomfortable wave, feeling herself tense as they all continued to study her, looking to John. 

“I’m going to shower off,” he stated, Violet feeling the three pairs of eyes behind her on her back as she turned to him, “I’ll be out in five.” 

He turned, Violet unable to find the words to protest before he slipped off to the showers, leaving her alone in the room with his team. She turned again, finding that they had all gone to their bunks, all still watching her from their respective tasks. Violet gave them a tight lipped smile before lowering herself onto the edge of his bunk, tucking her pad to her lap and busying herself with picking dog hair off of her jacket. Kai watched her from the bunk beside John’s, Violet realizing just how close proximity they slept to one another as Kai lowered herself onto the mattress, smiling at her. 

“So,” she started, swinging her legs over the side of the bunk to face Violet, “You’re the girl from the lift.”

“That’s me,” she managed weakly. “I’m Violet. I’m John’s…” she paused, finding herself unaware of how to define her relationship to him in the presence of the Spartan. It felt like a foolish thing to be concerned by, especially in regards to him. She searched for the right word, settling with, “friend.”

From over Kai’s shoulder, she could see Riz and Vannak still watching her from their bunks, exchanging sidelong glances at one another. Kai looked behind her, turning back to Violet. “Don’t mind them. We’re not used to having guests is all. I’m Kai.”

She held out a massive hand to Violet, Violet taking it in a handshake that shook her entire arm. Kai still studied her, her expression kind as she looked over the woman on her leader’s bed. “I’m sorry if we interrupted-.”

“No,” Violet said quickly, sure she was still painted red, “No. You didn’t.”

A moment of quiet passed between the two women before Kai spoke again, gesturing to the patches stitched into Violet’s jacket, “Doctor, huh? Medical?”

Violet’s fingers went to the patch that displayed her name, looking down at it. “Oh no, botany. I’m a botanist. I work with plants. I’m sure my mom would be much more impressed by my doctorate if it had been medical though,” she laughed. Kai smiled, Violet feeling her shoulders relax slightly at the sight of it. 

“How exactly did Chief come across a botanist?” 

“We met at the park,” she said, the scenario feeling far too ordinary spoken from where she sat. “I almost hit him with my dog’s ball.”

Kai smirked, leaning back slightly, taking a casual posture as if speaking to someone she had known for years rather than only a few moments. Violet found that she had an easy way about her, her own nerves relaxing the longer they spoke. “I have to say it makes sense. He spends a lot of his down time there.”

“It’s quiet there,” Violet said, offering the same explanation John had given her that first afternoon. 

“He seems to really care about you,” Kai said plainly, her eyes flicking to the doorway that led to the showers. “He doesn’t have to say it, but we could tell when we saw you on the lift.”

The blunt statement caught her off guard, Violet hoping that the surprise hadn’t riddled her face. Violet felt her lips quirk up into a smile, watching as John turned the corner into the room again, dressed in civilian clothing. His eyes softened when he saw her despite his stoic expression, Violet offering him a soft smile. “I really care about him, too.”

John looked between Violet and Kai as he walked towards them, a quizzical look crossing his face. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Kai said defensively as she stood, “Just getting to know your girlfriend.” 

Kai turned to Violet with a smile, “It was nice meeting you, Violet. I’ll see you around.” 

Violet returned her smile, standing from his bunk as he approached. That word caught in her chest as she looked to John as he neared his bunk. “You too, Kai.” 

Kai nodded, turning to walk to the showers he had just come from. She bumped her shoulder against his with a knowing look, smirking up at him. “Should we expect you back tonight, Chief?”

He rolled his eyes, but Violet noticed the twitch of his lips he tried to hide. Violet fell into step beside him, giving another little wave to the remaining two Spartans as she followed John out the door, Riz returning it as they watched the two step out into the hallway. 

“She seems fun,” Violet commented, John’s pace slowing to match her own as they walked the empty hallway to the exit. John nodded, scoffing before glancing around the hallway, his fingers curling into hers.

---

Violet enjoyed having him in her apartment.  Sadie seemed to enjoy it more, however, following John like a shadow from the moment they arrived, leaping into his arms as he walked through the door without as much as a sidelong glance towards Violet. Violet rolled her eyes at the dog, despite the glow in her chest at the sight of him holding her dog, patiently allowing Sadie to lick his face as he toed off his boots at the door, kicking them off next to hers. 

She slipped into the bedroom, quickly changing out of her uniform and leaving John in the living room. She took a moment in front of the bathroom mirror as she untwisted her bun, frowning at the kinks and twists left by the tight style and the humidity of the Jungle as she ran her hands under the faucet, combing wet fingers through her hair in attempt to loosen the bumps her bun had left with little success. She sighed, quickly adjusting her breasts in the bodice of her dress before stepping back into the living room. 

She found John standing before her shelves, Sadie at his feet, an amused look on his face as his eyes fell to her. He held up the chunk of headboard from the night prior that fit perfectly in his palm, “Why is this on your shelves?”

Violet couldn’t help that laugh that bubbled from her chest, her hands coming to her mouth. Her thoughts went to the events of her morning as she cleaned up the remnants of their forgotten meal after Sadie’s walk, having taken the piece of wood from the bedroom to toss it in the trash. 

“I must have left it there this morning. I had it in my hand to throw away and got sidetracked. I must have set it down there and forgotten about it. I might just leave it there,” she teased, breezing past him into the kitchen with a wink, “I told you; it was going to go straight to my head.” 

John shook his head, chuckling as he set it back down on the shelf. Violet smiled as she moved through the kitchen, pulling out the utensils and ingredients she needed to replicate the previous night’s dinner. John followed, leaning against the island and watching her as she set a pan on the stove, tapping on her pad to start her evening playlist, the plucky sounds of acoustic guitar oozing from the speaker on her counter. 

She pulled the cutting board and knife she had maimed herself with from the dishwasher, setting them out on the counter as she reached for the onion she had set out. No sooner did she reach for the knife was John’s hand on it, palm pressing the blade to the counter. Violet looked up to him, John cocking an eyebrow at her and gesturing for her to pass it to him. Her own brows raised in return. “Do you think I’m so incapable?” She teased. 

John slid the utensils to himself, Violet rolling the onion to him, “No. I’m just in no mood to administer first aid again tonight.”

“Hey,” she scoffed, “I believe I returned the favor quite handsomely last night, thank you very much.” 

He chuckled, Violet turning to attend to the pan on the stove. The song changed to one of her favorites, the raspy voice of the singer echoing through the kitchen. She swayed as she stirred, singing along softly as she looked over her spice rack, the sound of John chopping behind her falling in rhythm. It had been years since anyone had shared her space, let alone her kitchen. It seemed easy with him. She turned towards the island again, rummaging through a drawer for a spatula, still singing along. She felt his eyes on her, looking up to find him watching her across the counter with that soft look that made her knees weak. 

“What?” She asked, smiling at him. 

“I like this,” he said softly as he looked down at her.

“Cutting onions? Good, because I hate it. That can be your date night job, then.” She joked, setting the spatula down on the counter and leaning against the counter.

He reached across the counter and took her hand, thumb brushing over her knuckles, “Being here with you.”

“Then stay.” 

The night, the week, forever. It made no difference to her as long as he continued to look at her like that. 

John smiled, leaning across the counter lowering his lips to hers. Violet melted into his kiss, thankful for the lack of interruption in the quiet apartment. His lips moved against hers, soft and warm, Violet pressing her hand to his cheek. From the opposite side of the counter, her pad chimed as her comm line rang, an automated voice calling out; “ Incoming call from: Harris Home .” 

Violet groaned, reaching across the counter to hit dismiss, John stepping round the island, his lips finding her neck as she looked over to locate the device. She declined the call with a tap, turning back to his lips. John’s hands traced the curve of her spine, fingers fumbling with the delicate zipper of her dress. Her comm line rang again, Violet groaning at the rhythmic tone.

“Do you need to get that?’

“My parents,” she groaned against his lips in explanation, blindly tapping at the counter for her pad, “I’ll call them back tomorrow.” 

The chime of an accepted video call rang from her pad, Violet letting her forehead thud against his chest when she realized she had hit accept in error, “Fuck.”

“Hello? Vi? Can you hear us? We can’t see you!” 

Jane Harris’s voice filled her daughter’s kitchen, an unwelcome noise to Violet’s ears. Violet closed her eyes, hoping that she could disappear from the moment as her mother continued to call her name. She held a finger up to John, who nodded in understanding, turning to make his way to the sofa, Sadie following behind him. Violet bit back the string of curses that bubbled in her throat as she slid off the island and uprighted her pad. She straightened her clothes and gritted out a smile,  “Hi, mom.”

Her father’s voice joined the mix of the video call, Violet finding herself staring up at her parent’s ceiling. Their pad rocked jerkily, her parents bickering as it exchanged hands. 

“Hold on, kiddo,” Bill Harris called out, Violet catching a glimpse of her father’s spectacled face before it disappeared again, “We got a new pad and I’m still learning it. I liked our other one better. I don’t know why your mother insisted we get a new one.” 

“We were up for an upgrade! It’s an upgrade! We’re upgraded!” 

“CAN YOU HEAR US?”

“Dad, you are literally screaming ,” Violet groaned.

“Well, can you hear me? I can’t hear you all that well…”

“Did you turn up the volume on our end, Bill?”

“It’s on, I turned it on. Wait- oh, there we go.” 

Violet rested her elbows on the counter, sighing as she rubbed her temples. “My whole floor can hear you two,” she muttered out, “I’m sure of it.”

“I can’t hear her, Janie. Can you hear her? Can you hear us, Vi?” 

“I can hear you, dad.”

“Here, Bill.” 

The image on her pad uprighted, her parents coming into view. Her parents sat beside one another on their couch, Violet catching a glimpse of the living room of her childhood home behind them. Bill and Jane looked as they always did; her father dressed on one of his old city zoo pullovers, her mother perfectly done up in the same way she had been since Violet was a child, not a single hair out of place. Her dad adjusted his glasses, smiling brightly when he saw her. 

“Oh, there she is. Hey there, kiddo.” 

“Why didn’t you answer our calls?” Jane asked, always straight to the point. 

“I was at work, mom,” Violet replied.

“You’re not at work right now and you declined our call,” her mother said pointedly, “Is that dress new? It’s very booby.”

“Mother,” Violet hisses, straightening up to tug up the neckline of the dress she had chosen specifically when she had gone to change when they arrived at her apartment because it was booby. 

“ What? It’s cute! I’m just saying- it’s a lot of boob! It’s a lot of boob for the afternoon.”

“Jane, can you not talk about her boobs while I’m in the room?”

“Mom,” Violet said through clenched teeth, “I would love to talk to you guys later, but I’m busy right now. I’ll call you tomorrow.” 

“Your mother and I joined a birdwatching group this week,” her father announced happily, obviously not picking up on her attempt to usher them off the phone.

“Wow, I thought beekeeping was the most stereotypical hobby you picked up during retirement, but that takes the cake, Pops. That’s the new winner.” 

“Ugh, Bill, she’s making fun of us.”

“I’m not making fun of you,” she groaned, “That’s great, dad. Can you tell me more about it tomorrow?”

“Hey kiddo, do you know what Katie is up to?”

“I don’t know, dad,” she said, hoping she was doing a better job of hiding her exasperation than she felt she was. She glanced over her shoulder to where John sat, rolling her eyes. Sadie sat in his lap, eyes half closed as he scratched her ears.  “If you want to talk to Katie, call Katie.”

“Is there someone there with you, sweetheart? You keep looking behind you.” Her mother called out, leaning towards the screen like she could peer through the camera into her daughter’s apartment.  

“I have a friend over, mom,” she said hurriedly, “I’ll call you tomorrow!” 

“Oh a friend, huh? A friend or a friend ?” 

“A friend, mom. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you…” 

“Well turn it around, I want to meet your friend. Is he handsome?” 

“Mom, he doesn’t want to talk to-.” 

“HELLO!” 

Violet buried her face in her hands, letting out an exasperated groan as her mother kept calling out. She gave John a helpless look over her shoulder to where he observed her, considering the woman who continued to shout through the pad and the defeated expression on Violet’s face. He stood, crossing the living room to her, giving her hip a gentle squeeze before stepping behind the counter beside her as he leaned down into view. Jane’s eyes popped as her daughter’s companion came into view.

“Good lord, he’s a giant,” she muttered to her husband, “Bill, look at how tall her friend is.” 

“He’s very tall.” 

“And very muscular. He looks very muscular.” 

Violet’s teeth gnashed at the inside of her cheek, “We can still hear you, Mom.” 

“What? He’s tall! I can’t point out that he’s tall?” 

“Mom,” Violet sighed, John’s hand pressing against her back reassuringly. 

“Shush. Hi Violet’s friend, we’re Violet’s parents who apparently forgot to teach her manners,” Jane quipped, watching her daughter with the same severe, stern stare of a retired middle school administrator that Violet had grown up learning to avoid. 

Violet sighed, “This is John. This is my mom, Jane, and my dad, Bill. We have to go, guys. I’ll call you-.”

 “Hi, John. It’s nice to meet you.” Violet bit back the frustrated scream that bubbled in her chest as her mom continued to yammer on, John far more gracious than she as he nodded to her mother. 

“You as well, ma’am.” 

“Oh he’s polite. Listen to how polite he is, Bill.”

 “Very polite.”

“Hey guys? Guys,” Violet called, interrupting the whispered conversation her parents were having in front of an audience, Bill and Jane stopping to look at her, “I’d love to talk more later, but our dinner is getting cold. I’ll call you tomorrow.” 

“Alright, alright,” her dad acquiesced, finally picking up on his daughter’s attempts to usher them off of the phone. “We’ll let you get back to it. Loved talking with you, kiddo. And it was a pleasure to meet you, John! Sorry again for interrupting.” 

“You as well, sir.” 

“Alright, love you kiddo.” Her dad called, Violet returning the statement as her parents’ ceiling came back into view with a fumbling of the pad.

“What a nice young man,” Jane said to Bill, the top of her head still in view. 

“Very nice. Very tall.” 

“Hang up the call, Dad,” Violet called, letting her head fall into her hands. 

“I’m trying.” 

“Just swipe up.” 

“Oh, ah!” The call ended with a ding. Violet slid the pad away from her, Violet groaning and resting her head against the cool counter in an attempt to mitigate the hot flush that crawled across her face and the dull headache that now pounded in her forehead. John stood behind her, hand still pressed to her back as he stared down at the pad.

“Are they always,” he paused, choosing his words, “like that?”

Violet stood, turning and stepping into his arms, burying her face in his chest. “Clinically insane? Unfortunately. That was pretty tame for them, actually.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest under her cheek. He brought a hand to her head, fingers running through her hair. She relaxed against him, enjoying the feel of his arms around her. “I am so sorry,” she began, “That was a lot. They are a lot-.”

“I like your family,” he said softly. She stopped, pressing into his embrace with a sigh. 

“I like yours, too.”

[progiftreview]

Daffy Duck Hawaiian Shirt Man

The Daffy Duck Hawaiian Shirt Man is a fun and vibrant clothing item that is suitable for both men and women. With its colorful design and unique character, it makes a perfect gift for anyone who loves cartoons, fashion, or simply wants to add a touch of whimsy to their wardrobe. The shirt features the iconic character Daffy Duck, known for his hilarious antics and quick wit. The image of Daffy Duck is printed on a high-quality fabric, ensuring its durability and longevity. The Hawaiian shirt style adds a laid-back and tropical vibe to any outfit, making it suitable for casual gatherings, parties, or even vacations. One of the great things about the Daffy Duck Hawaiian Shirt Man is its versatility. It can be worn by both men and women, thanks to its unisex design. The loose and comfortable fit makes it suitable for all body types, allowing everyone to feel confident and stylish while wearing it. Its vibrant colors and fun pattern are bound to catch people's attention and make a statement wherever it is worn. This shirt is an excellent gift option for various occasions. Whether it's a birthday, holiday, or just a "thinking of you" gesture, the Daffy Duck Hawaiian Shirt Man is sure to bring a smile to the recipient's face. Cartoon enthusiasts and collectors will particularly appreciate this unique and playful piece as it pays homage to one of the most beloved characters in animation history. In addition to being a fun fashion statement, the Daffy Duck Hawaiian Shirt Man also holds sentimental value. It serves as a reminder of childhood memories and the joy that cartoons brought into our lives. Wearing it can evoke a sense of nostalgia and create a connection with like-minded individuals who share a love for animated characters and the world they represent. Furthermore, the Daffy Duck Hawaiian Shirt Man is suitable for various occasions. It can be worn to casual parties, summer barbecues, beach outings, or even as everyday wear for those who want to add a touch of eccentricity to their daily outfits. Its breathable fabric makes it perfect for warm weather, ensuring optimal comfort while maintaining style. In conclusion, the Daffy Duck Hawaiian Shirt Man is a versatile and timeless clothing item that can be enjoyed by men and women alike. Its whimsical design, quality construction, and sentimental value make it an ideal gift for anyone who appreciates cartoons, fashion, or simply wants to stand out from the crowd. So why wait? Embrace the nostalgia and bring a touch of fun to your wardrobe or surprise a loved one with this delightful and quirky shirt.

Get it here : Daffy Duck Hawaiian Shirt Man

Home Page : tshirtslowprice.com

Related : https://progiftreview.tumblr.com/post/721533783948640256/united-states-army-reserve-505th-military

[blogforanimeclass]

Genshiken (part 2)

Genshiken 2 was an extension of the previously assigned anime, Genshiken. Genshiken continues to follow the member of their school’s “Society for the Study of Modern Visual Culture" and their day-to-day activities. However, a new dynamic is introduced to the group with the joining of Chika Ogiue, an eccentric young woman with a disdain for otakus and, more specifically, specifically girl otakus.

Ogiue struck me as a personification for the shame many otakus feel with respect to their unorthodox interests as is a common theme of the series. Just as the other members of the Genshiken club feel that their interests somewhat ostracizes them from their peers (particularly young women their age), Ogiue bluntly states that she hates Otakus in spite of the fact that she shares their interests. Ogiue has internalized polite society’s rejection of those into manga, anime and video games. And just as many people find it especially strange that a young woman would be an otaku, Ogiue especially hates female otakus.

Saito’s “psychopathology of the otaku” is on full display in this series. All of the characters in the Genshiken club are obsessed with collecting/possessing as many objects pertaining to the favorite media as they can. The club classroom is covered wall-to-wall in bookshelves filled with manga and figurines. In one episode, the characters attend an anime convention. However, the convention is hardly the entire event. The characters are seen sinking dozens of hours into designing and fabricating costumes of their favorie characters. This is done so that they can display their knowledge and devotion to the media in the form of how elaborate and accurate their costume is.

This reminded me of how I acted towards my favorite media when I was little. When I was younger, I would print out pictures of the characters from my favorite cartoon to tape to my bedroom wall as this was the easiest way for me to “possess” something without actually having any money. And one Halloween, I distinctly remember dressing up as Mario (a character from a Japanese video game) to attend my school’s Halloween Bash.

All in all, Genshiken 2, just as Genshiken, is a slice-of-life anime from the point of view of a small, closely knit otaku friend group. I can highly recommend this anime to anyone who enjoys anime/anime culture or is interested in it as an outsider.

[tamlovesfashion]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Women's Sweatshirt Hoodie Pullover Long Sleeves Dino Cartoon.

[theblissfulstudio]

Cute Printed T-Shirts for Couples and Men and Women Tees Collection

Looking to add a touch of adorable charm to your wardrobe? Cute printed tshirts for couples are not just a fashion statement but a way to celebrate togetherness in style. Whether you're looking for matching outfits for a special occasion or simply want to showcase your unity, these tees offer a perfect blend of comfort and cuteness. With a variety of designs ranging from quirky cartoons to heartfelt messages, there's something to suit every personality and mood.

For couples who love expressing their bond through fashion, cute printed t-shirts are a fun choice. Imagine strolling hand-in-hand with your significant other, both wearing tees that complement each other's style and personality. It's not just about looking good together; it's about sharing moments and creating memories that are as special as your relationship itself.

Beyond couple tees, the men and women tees collection offers a diverse array of options. From classic prints to trendy graphics, these tees cater to different tastes and preferences. Whether you prefer a laid-back look or want to make a bold statement, there's a tee out there for you. Pair them with jeans or shorts for a casual day out, or layer them under a jacket for a more polished ensemble.

When choosing cute printed t-shirts for couples or exploring the men and women tees collection, comfort is key. Soft fabrics and well-crafted designs ensure that you not only look good but also feel great throughout the day. Whether you're lounging at home, running errands, or enjoying a day at the beach, these tees provide the perfect blend of style and ease.

In conclusion, cute printed t-shirts for couples and the men and women tees collection offer a wonderful opportunity to express yourself and celebrate your unique style. Whether you're shopping for yourself or looking for a thoughtful gift, these tees are sure to bring smiles and add a touch of fun to any wardrobe. Embrace your individuality, share your love, and make every outfit a statement with these charming printed t-shirts.

[kryschristreasures]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Keds Little Miss Lucky Sneakers Women’s 8 Lace Up Limited Edition Canvas Cartoon.

[mocofo]

Rep Your Era: Taylor Swift's Eras Tour Hits the Playground in Style

Calling all mini-Swifties and their fashion-conscious parents!  The excitement of the Eras Tour isn't just for grown-up fans!  This article explores the world of Taylor Swift's Eras Tour clothing for kids, focusing on cool and comfy t-shirt and shorts sets, as well as activewear pajamas, all designed to let your child celebrate their favorite musical era in style.

Rock Every Era:

The Eras Tour celebrates Taylor Swift's incredible musical journey, and your child's wardrobe can reflect that too! Here's what to look for:

Eras Tour Designs: Find clothing featuring logos, graphics, or color schemes inspired by specific eras, like the sparkly pop of "1989" or the dreamy pastels of "Folklore."

Activewear Comfort: For the little Swifties who love to move and groove, look for t-shirt and shorts sets made from breathable, moisture-wicking materials that keep them cool and comfortable during playtime.

Pajama Fun: Let them dream of sold-out shows and epic concerts with Eras Tour-themed activewear pajamas. Imagine them drifting off to sleep in comfy clothes that celebrate their favorite era.

Gender-Neutral Options: Many lines offer designs that aren't limited to boys or girls, allowing all children to express their love for the Eras Tour.

Finding the Perfect Era Outfit:

There are a few key places to find Eras Tour clothing for kids:

Official Store: The Taylor Swift official store might have a selection of licensed merchandise, including t-shirt and shorts sets, and even Eras Tour-themed pajamas.

Retailers: Major clothing retailers may carry limited-edition Eras Tour clothing lines, especially around tour dates.

Online Marketplaces: Websites like Etsy offer a treasure trove of fan-made Eras Tour clothing, with unique designs and customizations you won't find anywhere else. You might find some creative takes on t-shirt and shorts sets or activewear pajamas here.

Eras Tour Taylor Swift Boys And Girls T-shirt + Shorts Sports Pajama Sets

Applicable gender: neutral/both men and women

Style: European and American

Suit type: pants suit

Suit number: two-piece suit

Suit age: small and medium children (3~8 years old, 100~140cm)

Suitable season: summer

Sleeve length: short sleeve

Hooded or not: no hood

Pants length: shorts

Fabric process: sanding, soft treatment

Thickness: normal

Pattern: cartoon

Elements: sports, suit, cartoon, cute, bow, print

Fabric name: cotton blend

Main fabric composition: polyester fiber (polyester)

Main fabric composition content: 95% and above (%)

Safety level: Class A

Color: light green, purple, gray, wine red

Suitable height: 120cm, 130cm, 140cm, 150cm, 160cm

Popular elements: printing, splicing

Safety and Inclusivity:

When shopping online, be sure to choose reputable retailers and check for certifications that ensure safe and high-quality materials, especially for children's clothing.

Look for clothing lines that offer a wide size range to ensure a comfortable fit for all children.

Many Eras Tour clothing lines offer designs that aren't limited to boys or girls, allowing all children to express their love for Taylor Swift and their favorite era.

More Than Just Clothes, It's a Celebration:

Eras Tour clothing isn't just about fashion; it's a way for children to connect with Taylor Swift's music and celebrate her incredible career.  These comfy and stylish pieces allow them to showcase their love for a specific era or the entire Eras Tour experience.

So, get ready to create some adorable Swiftie moments with these fun and fashionable finds!  Let your child rock their favorite era in style, whether they're conquering the playground in an Eras Tour t-shirt and shorts or dreaming of concerts in cozy Eras Tour pajamas.

Taylor Swift, the iconic singer-songwriter, has not only captivated audiences with her music but also inspired fashion trends with her signature style. Now, fans can emulate her effortless elegance even in their sleep with the Taylor Swift pajama set. Combining comfort and chic design, this pajama set allows fans to channel their inner Swiftie while lounging at home or drifting off to sleep. Let's explore why the Taylor Swift pajama set is a must-have addition to any fan's wardrobe.a

Copy from:https://choosepajamas.blogspot.com/2024/06/rep-your-era-taylor-swifts-eras-tour.html

[kingjain]

Garth Brooks Signature Guitare T-Shirt

The Garth Brooks Signature Guitar T-Shirt is a trendy and versatile fashion item suitable for both men and women. Whether you are a die-hard Garth Brooks fan or simply appreciate good music, this t-shirt makes for the perfect gift for any occasion. Designed with utmost attention to detail, this t-shirt features a striking graphic print of Garth Brooks' signature guitar on the front. The guitar, a symbol of his legendary music career, adds a touch of authenticity and nostalgia to the design. Made from high-quality, soft and breathable fabric, the t-shirt ensures ultimate comfort all day long. One of the best things about the Garth Brooks Signature Guitar T-Shirt is its versatility. You can wear it to casual outings, concerts, parties, or even as loungewear. It effortlessly pairs with jeans, shorts, or skirts, making it an ideal choice for various occasions. Its timeless design ensures that it never goes out of style, allowing you to flaunt your love for Garth Brooks for years to come. Apart from its stylish appeal, this t-shirt also makes for a thoughtful gift. It is suitable for people of all ages and genders, making it a versatile option for gifting. Whether you are buying it for a family member, friend, or significant other, this t-shirt is sure to put a smile on their face. Additionally, it is a fantastic choice for fans attending Garth Brooks concerts, enabling them to showcase their enthusiasm and support for their favorite artist. The Garth Brooks Signature Guitar T-Shirt is not just a fashion statement; it also represents a deep connection with the music industry and the impact of Garth Brooks' artistry. It serves as a reminder of the emotions and memories associated with his iconic songs. This shirt becomes more than just a piece of clothing; it becomes a symbol of appreciation for a legendary musician. The t-shirt is available in a range of sizes to ensure a perfect fit for everyone. The unisex design makes it accessible to individuals of all body types. The quality construction ensures that the t-shirt will last, allowing fans to cherish it for years. In conclusion, the Garth Brooks Signature Guitar T-Shirt is a must-have for any fan of Garth Brooks or music enthusiasts in general. With its stylish design, versatility, and high-quality construction, it serves as a perfect gift option for all occasions. Whether you choose to wear it yourself or give it to someone special, this t-shirt is bound to leave a lasting impression and bring joy to any Garth Brooks fan.

Get it here : Garth Brooks Signature Guitare T-Shirt

Home Page : tshirtslowprice.com

Related : https://kingjain.tumblr.com/post/720358042877689856/red-winnie-the-pooh-cartoon-movie-clog-shoes-crocs

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[giftsforus]

Disney Park Cartoon Graphics All Over Print 3D Hawaiian Shirt

The Disney Park Cartoon Graphics All Over Print 3D Hawaiian Shirt is a fun and stylish piece of clothing that is perfect for both men and women. With its vibrant colors and playful design, it is a gift that everyone can enjoy. One of the most striking features of this shirt is its all-over print design. The shirt is covered in colorful cartoon graphics featuring beloved Disney characters such as Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Goofy, and many others. These graphics are beautifully rendered in a 3D style, which adds an extra level of depth and visual appeal to the shirt. Whether you are a fan of Disney or simply enjoy eye-catching designs, this shirt is sure to impress. Another great aspect of this shirt is its Hawaiian style. The shirt is made from a lightweight and breathable fabric, making it perfect for hot summer days or tropical vacations. The relaxed fit and button-down front add to its casual and comfortable vibe, making it suitable for various occasions. Whether you're going to the beach, attending a party, or simply want to add a touch of fun to your everyday outfit, this shirt is a versatile choice. The Disney Park Cartoon Graphics All Over Print 3D Hawaiian Shirt is a gift that can be enjoyed by people of all ages. Children and adults alike will appreciate the playful and nostalgic charm of the Disney characters adorning the shirt. It even makes for a great family gift, as matching shirts can create a fun and memorable experience for everyone. Furthermore, the shirt is available in different sizes, catering to a wide range of body types. For men, this shirt can be easily paired with shorts or jeans for a laid-back and stylish look. Women can style it with a skirt or leggings, creating a more feminine and trendy outfit. It truly is a unisex gift that can be enjoyed by all. In conclusion, the Disney Park Cartoon Graphics All Over Print 3D Hawaiian Shirt is a gift that brings joy, style, and nostalgia all at once. Its vibrant colors, playful design, and comfortable fit make it an excellent choice for both men and women. Whether you're heading to a Disney park, going on vacation, or simply want to add some fun to your wardrobe, this shirt is a fantastic option. It's a gift that will undoubtedly put a smile on the face of anyone who receives it.

Get it here : Disney Park Cartoon Graphics All Over Print 3D Hawaiian Shirt

Home Page : tshirtslowprice.com

Related : https://giftsforus.tumblr.com/post/717624615289192448/unisex-3d-a-busy-fishing-day-of-otter-hawaiian

[progiftreview]

Garfield Cowboy Shirt, When I Die I May Not Go To Heaven Garfield Shirt

The Garfield Cowboy Shirt, also known as the "When I Die I May Not Go To Heaven Garfield Shirt," is a unique and fashionable piece of clothing that has gained popularity among both men and women. This shirt is not only a stylish choice but also serves as a great gift option for everyone. Featuring the iconic cartoon character Garfield, this shirt showcases a quirky and humorous design that adds a touch of playfulness to any outfit. The image of Garfield dressed as a cowboy, along with the text "When I Die I May Not Go To Heaven" creates a fun and light-hearted vibe, which is perfect for those who appreciate a good laugh. This shirt is suitable for both men and women, offering a versatile option for individuals of all genders. It can be worn as a casual everyday outfit or dressed up for a more unique and eye-catching look. The design is printed on high-quality fabric, ensuring a comfortable and durable garment that will last for a long time. Moreover, what makes the Garfield Cowboy Shirt an excellent gift choice is its ability to cater to a wide range of tastes and interests. Garfield has been a beloved character since his creation in 1978, capturing the hearts of people of all ages. Whether you are a die-hard fan or someone who simply appreciates the character's charm, this shirt offers a nostalgic and sentimental gift option. Additionally, the humorous and witty phrase, "When I Die I May Not Go To Heaven," adds an extra layer of uniqueness to this shirt. It showcases a light-hearted approach to life and serves as a reminder to not take things too seriously. This makes the shirt an excellent gift for those who appreciate humor and enjoy wearing statement pieces that spark conversations. Furthermore, the versatility of this shirt allows it to be worn on various occasions. Whether it's a casual day out, a gathering with friends, or even a themed party, the Garfield Cowboy Shirt effortlessly stands out and adds a fun element to any event. Its bold design ensures that the wearer will make a memorable impression wherever they go. To conclude, the Garfield Cowboy Shirt, with its quirky design and humorous phrase, is a fantastic choice for both men and women. It offers a unique and playful addition to any wardrobe and serves as a great gift option for individuals of all ages. So, if you're looking to add a touch of fun and nostalgia to your fashion collection or searching for a memorable gift, the Garfield Cowboy Shirt is the perfect choice.

Get it here : Garfield Cowboy Shirt, When I Die I May Not Go To Heaven Garfield Shirt

Home Page : tshirtslowprice.com

Related : https://progiftreview.tumblr.com/post/721920235143299072/united-kingdom-mini-car-2000-mini-cooper-s