#like a silly little bedtime story to myself

[nico-di-genova]

Lestappen Texts

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[gojoest]

BEDTIME STORY (about love) — gojo satoru

in which satoru tells his daughter the story of how you met. those of you who’ve read this already know, but your now 4-year-old daughter is yet to hear it

girl dad satoru, father-daughter time, she/her pronouns used for reader, wc: 1k, not proofread, just a silly little thing

“papa”

“yes, my life?”

“how did you and mama meet?”

“oh my, i never told you the story?”

“no, papa. you didn’t”

“well—"

one thing gojo satoru never fails to do, no matter how busy his schedule, is reading bedtime stories to his 4-year-old daughter. even when he’s swamped with missions, he would make sure he is at home by the time his daughter had to sleep — after tucking her in, he would sit beside her with a book in hand and read her a story until she’s fast asleep.

but tonight, your daughter asked for a different kind of story — the origin of your love, how the two of you met — and truth be told, satoru was more than excited to talk about it (as he always is whenever the topic in question involved you).

his eyes glowing with the same old dreamy glint anytime your name was mentioned, he puts the book on the nightstand and makes himself comfortable next to his little one in bed. slightly scooching her over so he could sit with his back leaning against the headboard, he cradles her in his arms and takes a deep breath before starting.

“it all happened on my birthday, 7 years ago”

“december 7th!”, your daughter excitedly points out.

satoru chuckles, his chest swelling with joy that his little daughter remembers his birthday. “that’s right, my life. your mother came into my life like a birthday present”, his lips curl into a gentle smile as he reminisces about the night that changed his entire life.

“was mama invited to your birthday?”

“no, but we just happened to be in the same restaurant that night. while i was celebrating with friends, she was there, on another table, with her coworkers”

your daughter hums, “i see”

“she was so beautiful, i noticed her the moment she walked in. and i couldn’t take my eyes off her for the rest of the night. i knew i had to go and talk to her before she left. something in me knew she was the one, you know?”

your little one tilts her head up to look at satoru, eyes curiously blinking, “but how did you know, papa?”

“my heart whispered it to me, beating relentlessly the entire time. it was like this unknown force was pulling me towards your mom and the whole time i was trying to come up with a plan, an excuse even, to go talk to her without coming off as a weirdo”

“and did you succeed?”

“well, by the looks of it—”, he points at her and gently boops her nose, “i did”

she chuckles sweetly, “no, papa—i mean did you manage to not be a weirdo?”

“hmm, i’ll let you decide on that one. so pay attention, okay?”, to which she silently nods. his hand rubs the top of her head softly before continuing.

“you see, i couldn’t think of anything but nor could i wait any longer. i decided i’d just go and say hi. so i stood up and made my way towards her table. i had to know her as soon as possible, because every second of inaction felt like it was taking away from my future with her. any second was precious, you know? if i could be with her sooner, be it even a planck time earlier, i had to take it — as it would only add up to the time spent with her”

“what is planck time, papa?”, your daughter cuts him off.

“it’s theoretically considered to be the shortest measurable time”

“is it less than a second?”

“waaaaay less”

“woah, papa you were down bad for mama”, your daughter gasps in amusement.

an audible laugh breaks through satoru’s lips, “yea, i was. and i still am”

“and what happened when you went over?”

“i said hi but she wasn’t having it at all, didn’t even bat me an eye. tried to chase me off before i was able to introduce myself. but i was already determined to make her mine, i knew it deep down that she was my person. so i forced my way and introduced myself”

“papa you’re a stubborn one”

“yea, but your mother turned out to be even more stubborn. she dodged all my attempts at her. so, i had to make it very clear to her, let her know that the man standing before her was the one to be her boyfriend, then her husband, and then the father of her children — therefore, in order for all this to work, i asked for her number”

“you really said all that?” — satoru nods to her question affirmatively. “papa, that’s so bold of you, honestly”, another gasp leaves your 4-year-old’s mouth. “and then?”

“and then she got mad at me, thought i was playing around with her”, satoru chuckles, brushing a hand across his face at the memory, closing his eyes to replay that very scene in his mind. your reaction is still pretty vivid to him, how your eyes grew wide in disbelief after what he had just told you...

i am gojo satoru, also known as the man to be your boyfriend, then your husband, and then the father of your children — and you are to be my girlfriend, then my wife, and then the mother of my children…

…and then how you narrowed your eyes and gave him a good lecture.

is this your move? you pull this on everyone you find remotely attractive?

“to be honest, i was slightly panicking internally — this was my best move, you know? and it was failing. but luckily, your uncle suguru came to my aid. he convinced your mom to give me a chance before blatantly turning me down. and she did — i got her number by the end of the night”, a soft smile painted on his lips again. “look at us now — wasn’t i right about all that?”

“papa, you’re a hopeless romantic”

“you bet i am”, he smugly confirms.

“…and a bit of a weirdo”, she cackles quietly.

“oi”, satoru furrows his brows. his hand softly tickles the side of her, incurring a loud laugh on her end. “shhh, time to sleep now or else mama will scold me for keeping you up past your bedtime”

“but, papa — you did well, being a weirdo paid off”

“yea, it really did — it gave me a home and a family”, his eyes soften observing the treasure in his arms.

[elryuse]

Yandere snsd otp 9 please there obsessed with there adopted little brother reader

MY STEPSISTER IS OBSESSED WITH ME

Yandere SNSD OT9 X Male Reader

The plane touched down in Incheon, a cold wave of dread washing over me. My parents, the people I trusted most, had ripped the rug from under my feet. They'd sold me, their own son, to a rich family in Korea. Betrayal gnawed at me, a bitter pill I couldn't swallow.

A man in a chauffeur's uniform held a placard with my new name, a Korean name I didn't recognize. He led me to a sleek black car, and the entire ride was a blur of towering skyscrapers and neon signs spewing unfamiliar words. Finally, the car pulled up to a colossal mansion that looked more like a palace.

My jaw dropped as I stepped out. A maid bowed, ushering me inside. There, I found them. Nine girls, impossibly beautiful, clad in luxurious clothes, faces a mix of curiosity and disdain.

"This is our new… brother," the one with the fiercest eyes announced, her voice dripping with ice. Jessica, they'd introduced her later, with a coldness in her eyes that sent shivers down my spine.

"Yoona," a girl with doe-like eyes scolded softly. "Be nice." Sooyoung, her name tag read. The only one who seemed to show a shred of genuine warmth.

The first few weeks were a blur of isolation and silent judgment. I became a ghost, flitting through the edges of their seemingly perfect lives, cleaning their mess, fetching things, and basically acting like their servant. They treated me with indifference, their conversations laced with inside jokes and references I didn't understand.

One rainy night, as I drove them back from a late-night practice, a reckless driver ran a red light. The car swerved, tires screeching. The world became a chaotic blur before everything went dark.

I woke up in a hospital bed, my body a map of aches and pains. But the pain was a mere whisper compared to the sight that greeted me. Nine worried faces surrounded my bed, concern etching lines on their flawless faces.

"Y/n! You're awake!" the one with the soft voice, Yoona, cried, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Tiffany, a girl with bright eyes and a seemingly warm smile, held my hand tightly. "You scared the living shit out of us. Don't you ever do that again."

The others, the girls who used to ignore me, surrounded me with a flurry of questions and frantic care. It was overwhelming, this sudden shift in their behavior. Yet, a part of me felt...warm. A flicker of hope ignited in my chest.

Days turned into weeks, and my stay at the hospital became an unexpected haven. They showered me with affection, bringing me my favorite takeout, singing me silly songs in butchered Korean to cheer me up, and even reading me Korean bedtime stories – their attempts hilariously endearing.

As I recovered, I learned more about them, about SNSD, their dream, their struggles. Their ambition, once cold and distant, became something I admired. I found myself drawn to their passion, their love for music, and most unsettlingly, to them.

One afternoon, while they were recording, I sat in their practice room, captivated by the raw emotions they poured into their song. As the last note faded, a heavy silence descended. Then, Yoona spoke, her voice trembling.

"Y/n, W-we…" she began, then stopped, tears welling up in her eyes. "We were terrible sisters. We took you for granted."

Taeyeon, the fierce leader, stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You became our family, Y/n. And we scared you away. We… we can't lose you again."

Her words unraveled something within me. I realized I wasn't just drawn to their world; I was trapped. Their love, once suffocating, was now a possessive cage woven from concern and affection.

I looked at their faces, each beautiful in its own way, and a horrifying truth dawned on me. They were obsessed. Not with me as a brother, but as something… more. A possession to be cherished, protected, and never let go of. The warmth I felt earlier turned icy cold, a knot of fear tightening in my stomach.

They were my family, my saviors, but also my captors. A twisted family bound by a love that had crossed the line, and I, Y/n, the unwanted son, was now their prisoner in a gilded cage.

The following days solidified my fear. My room was adorned with SNSD posters, their schedules plastered across my desk like religious icons. My phone was replaced with one monitored by Sooyoung, under the guise of 'keeping me safe.' Sunny, the bubbly one, would burst into tears if I mentioned leaving for a walk. Hyoyeon, the dance machine, started following me everywhere, a silent, watchful shadow.

At night, the nightmares began. I'd wake up in a cold sweat, the scent of lilies – their favorite flower – thick in the air. A single lily would be placed on my nightstand, a silent promise of their obsessive love.

One evening, I managed to sneak my old phone out of my bag. With trembling fingers, I dialed a random international number. A voice, rough with sleep, answered on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Mom? Dad? It's me Y/n." Relief flooded me, a lifeline thrown across a vast ocean of despair.

But before I could speak further, the door creaked open. Taeyeon stood there, her face a mask of fury. The phone clattered to the floor, the sound of my shattered hope echoing in the silence.

"Who were you talking to?" Her voice was laced with venom.

Tears welled up in my eyes. "M-my parents. I just wanted to…"

"You don't need anyone else," Tiffany cut in, her eyes blazing with a possessive glint. "You have us."

They surrounded me, a suffocating wall of beautiful faces. Yoona, ever the gentle one, held a syringe filled with a clear liquid.

"This will help you sleep, Y/n. No more bad dreams."

Panic clawed at my throat. I lunged for the door, but Jessica was already there, her grip like iron. A struggle ensued, a pathetic fight against nine determined women. In the end, they subdued me, the syringe finding its mark on my arm.

The world dissolved into a hazy blur. As darkness claimed me, I heard their voices, a chilling chorus that echoed in the recesses of my mind.

"Don't worry, Y/n. You're safe now. You'll never leave us again."

I woke up strapped to a bed, the sterile white room a stark contrast to the opulent prison I called home. An IV dripped into my arm, a constant reminder of my captivity.

On the bedside table sat a bouquet of lilies, their cloying scent filling the air. Despair washed over me, a cold, suffocating wave. There was no escape. I was a prisoner in a gilded cage, a plaything for nine beautiful, deranged women who called themselves my sisters. The once-distant dream of freedom now felt like a cruel joke. My new reality was a life sentence of love, a love so twisted it could only be called obsession.

To Be Continued

[radioroxx]

da bebes ;-; <3

THE BABIES <3 (link to og fankid post)

using this ask as an excuse to share some thoughts we had about the kids interactions with the others from the party! depending on some disc screenshots to help me lol

hehe!

OK FIRST. MIRABELLE

absolutely absolutely she is the type to spoil the kids. with candy and sweets and late bedtimes she just cannot say no to them ever she is far too fond. and yes she would read to them. she picks out book she especially likes, or ones that she enjoyed as a kid, and totally not as an excuse to talk about these characters she loves so much nooo-

(as long as the books are. age appropriate ofc. not too scary for the youngins,,)

on top of that she would be very easy to talk to! isa and sif do make sure to always be emotionally open with their kids, would never want them to feel like they cant talk about something, but even then. sometimes its nice to have someone else to depend on. just in case. and mira loves to chat with em :)

NEXT. ODILE

odile cares for these kids oooh so so so much. she would never admit it but, much like the rest of her family, she would do horrible horrible things to make them happy. even if she. isnt the best with kids. in general. shes trying her best and the kids definitely thinking her dry humour and sarcastic bluntness is funny as hell

also she is 100% the embarrassing stories one. the kids ask her for the same silly story about their parents again and again eeevery time she visits. they never get tired of it and neither does she. (sif and isa certainly do though fjnf)

BONNIE… we didnt talk much about bonnie,,

doing some very basic math bonnie would be arounnd their? early or mid twenties when the kids are. “born”. (wished into existence). which makes me honestly so depressed and sad to thinking about ohmy god theyre growing up i might die

i think they would bond very easily with the kids though! would enjoy getting to show and teach them things- things that make themself happy like cooking etc. i do think as well bon would be trying very hard, maybe a little too hard, to appear cool and chill around them. so that they respect them. (kinda how i hc sif to have been around bon early on pre-story,, bc nothing is more validating than the approval of an 11yo lol)

OK FINALLY… LOOP…..

i already talked a bit about loop in the original post but i guess i can juuust repeat myself a lil.

loops feeling are complicated. we joked about them being a funny babysitter, the kids probably think theyre so so fun to play with, buut it might take some time to get there. its been years since the end of the loops, working through jealously and learning to be satisfied with what they do have but! this is! different!! and its hard…

… but it gets better

(im out of screenshot space but we also had the idea of the kids putting on plays, maybe if sif ever shared his love of theatre with them, and tbey would absolutely rope loop into it. loop who is reluctant to participate until they realize how much fun theyre having with these two)

[aeonofladys]

Why i believe opal being a kid makes sense

We already know opal is kind of crazy and most likely doesn't use peaceful methods. A way this could have happened is, he was manipulated since a baby by the ipc to believe he is doing good, and doesn't truly understand what he does or who he hurts are actual people, seeing this more like a game.

Additionally, if someone grew up in a place where shedding blood to get what u want is considered normal and perhaps even encouraged, would he truly be able to develop the required empathy and courage to go against the people that he most likely looks up to? Especially if he truly a very young kid, wich is 100 times easier to manipulate.

That way, being manipulated since youth to believe in very worng ideals and not even registering on what he is doing is wrong, he will most likely view this as a silly game to gain praise, approval and money ,wich can get him a lot like physical items, for example toys, but also stuff like respect. It will bot be that hard for him to realise that the more money he has, the more people treat him nicely, because he can be of use to them and has a lot of influence but idk if he will realise the second part.

And of course, for the same exact reason, he won't view lives as actual lives, but more off a number. As said before, he will almost to even zero empathy, and he won't even be able to register that those are actual people he is hurting. He will view them as a stepping stone , or perhaps a way to win the game more easily.

Last but not least, he will start to get bored one day. Kids easily get bored with their toys. And so he will seek more entertainment. Will do even more crazy stuff. Will kill even more people, in different ways, just to give him some entertainment. Or perhaps just to gain a little more praise. Maybe after he has won so many battles, the adults won't give him such heartfelt compliments because they will start to expect it and so beraly give him attention. And what does a kid crave the most? Attention. Especially from the people he looks up to. So he will start to do more crazy stuff, so he could hopefully win faster, so the adults would actually get suprised and give him wayyy more attention.

It would also be very fun to see how he deals with relationships and attachment. Will he seek parental love out of people? Making stuff read bedtime stories to him, and asking them to do basic parental stuff, but once they mess up he will give them a punishment or even kill them because that's the environment he was grown up and his kid-like mind won't even register the fact it isn't the correct way to love? Or will he despise the idea of people looking down at him for being a child? People looking down at him, when they should be looking up, and praise him for all the things he has accomplished! Will he also hate attachment? That's something i am not truly sure of yet. But one thing i do know is that he will get attached without knowing it. Perhaps an additional reason on why he chose aventurine to live is because he has gotten slightly attached to him. Or perhaps because he found him as someone who will bring more entertainment to him. Or perhaps even none of this, and it's truly him wanting to follow diamond's wishes.

All in all, I truly hope he is an actual kid because it will be very fun to see how they will write him. Plus i truly adore the idea that he views everything a game.

I genuinely do believe it kind of fits his character the more i think about it, but maybe i am just self-indulging myself. Please tell me your thoughts!

{Ofc his actions aren't excused tho Imao. I can't wait to learn more about him, and he will most likely be the next stone head we learn about so i cant wait. }

[vanfleeter]

Think, Think, Think //JTK

Summary: Late night bedtime stories told in Daddy's silly voices.

Characters: Jake x Tommy (son) x reader Warnings: All the Dad!Jake fluff in the world. Author's Note: Working off an idea from @writingcold, I hope I did it justice. DISCLAIMER: I do not own Winnie-the-Pooh, just borrowing a few excerpts...

__________________________________________________________

Exhaling as he closed the front door, Jake quietly sets his guitar case on the floor by the stairs and slowly sets his keys in the glass dish on the entry table. He starts to make his way towards the kitchen but gets stopped in his tracks when he hears a little voice calling from the stairs.

“Daddy..”

Turning on his heels, he finds Tommy slowly making his way down the steps. “What are you still doing awake?” Jake says as he walks over to the stairs.

“I wanted to stay up and wait for you.”

“Buddy, it is way past your bedtime.”

“I know but you said you’d read me a story before bed.”

Jake closes his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips as he realizes that he did promise Tommy he’d read him a bedtime story. “I did.. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Daddy, you’re here now.” Tommy says as he gives Jake a beaming smile.

Jake chuckles and picks Tommy up from the floor. “I am here now, so which story would you like me to read?” He says as carries Tommy back upstairs to his bedroom.

“Winnie-the-Pooh.”

“I am not surprised.” Jake says as he flicks on the lamp on Tommy’s dresser. He retrieves the book from the shelf on the wall and goes to sit in the rocking chair beside the window. Getting all settled in their bed. “Alright, shall we begin?”

Tommy eagerly nods his head and snuggles up to Jake on his lap. “Can you use your silly voice?”

“My silly voice?”

“Mmhmm, the one that makes you sound a little English or a pirate?”

Jake laughs but nods his head. “I will do that.” He clears his throat eliciting a giggle from Tommy.

“…Once upon a time, a very long time ago now, about last Friday, Winnie-the-Pooh lived in a forest all by himself under the name of Sanders..

“One day when he was out walking, he came to an open place in the middle of the forest, and in the middle of this place was a large oak tree, and from the top of the tree, there came a loud buzzing noise.

“Winnie-the-Pooh sat down at the foot of the tree, put his head between his paws and began to think..”

“Think think think..” Tommy mimics as he stifles a yawn. Jake chuckles and runs his fingers through Tommy’s wavy hair as he continues on with the story. –

“Good morning, Christopher Robin.” He said. “Good morning, Winnie-ther-Pooh,” said you. “I wonder if you’ve got such a thing as a balloon about you?” “A balloon?” “Yes, I just said to myself coming along; ‘I wonder if Christopher Robin has such a thing as a balloon about him?’ I just said to myself, thinking of balloons, and wondering.”

“He wonders a lot..” Tommy says.

Jake smiles. “He is quite a curious bear, isn’t he?”

“Very much so.” Tommy says in agreement. “Keep going daddy.”

Jake clears his throat and looks down his nose through his glasses to find his spot where he had left off. “Ah, here we are. Okay..

“What do you want a balloon for?” you said. Winnie-the-Pooh looked round to see that nobody was listening, put his paw to his mouth, and said in a deep whisper: “Honey!” Jake mimics the motions in the book sending Tommy in giggles.

“But you don’t get honey with balloons!” “I do,” said Pooh.

“I bet Uncle Sammy could get honey with a balloon.” Tommy says. “He knows all about the science behind how things float.”

Jake chuckles as he rocks back and forth in the chair. “I think Uncle Sammy is a bit too heavy for a balloon to carry him.”

“Well not if he has a million balloons, then he’d be able to float. We should ask him.”

Jake scoffs and smiles. “We can ask him tomorrow.” –

“So, while you walked up and down and wondered if it would rain, Winne-the-Pooh sang this song:

How sweet to be a Cloud Floating in the Blue! Every little cloud Always sings aloud. “How sweet to be a Cloud Floating in the Blue!” It makes him very proud To be a little Cloud.”

–

Waking up the following morning, you turn over in bed to find it empty beside you. Climbing out of bed, you head down the hallway when you stop past Tommy’s bedroom. Fast asleep in the rocking chair with Tommy passed on top of him and the book open on his lap, Jake is there, his head resting on top of Tommy’s. His glasses still rest on the brim of his nose.

Quietly walking over, you pull Tommy from off of Jake and carry him over to the bed. Once you have tucked in for a couple more hours of sleep, you go back over to Jake and gently remove his glasses and set them on the table and you take the book and close it and place it beside his glasses.

Softly you wake him up. His eyes flutter open and he picks up his head. He looks at you, confusion clouding his eyes. “What?” He moans as he stretches.

You giggle and brush his hair out from in front of his face. “You fell asleep with Tommy.” You say as you help him stand from the chair.

“I had the weirdest dream..” He mumbles as you guide him out of Tommy’s bedroom and down the hall to your own.

“And what was this dream about?” You inquire as you help him undress.

“Sammy was floating in the air tied to a million balloons.”

You giggle at the image forming in your head. Getting him dressed in more comfortable clothes, you help him into bed and cuddle close to him.

“Who knew that reading Winnie-the-Pooh would give such eccentric dreams..” He mumbles as he curls his body around you and slowly falls back in his slumber.

[starrydaycare]

Nina The Killer agere with late 2000/early 2010 aesthetic with light pink and princess motifs (and a bit of impure/vent regression?) Headcanons, too! Can Jane The Killer can be her cg? Tysm!!!!!!!!!!!

Yeah!! I can do that!

Also, bc there isn't really any canonical drawings of Jane and Nina (That I know of), I drew the two photos of them myself. So, apologies if they aren't very good. I don't draw people very oftennn

🍪Regressor!Nina the killer and Caregiver!Jane the killer Headcanons!

🩷Nina is a trauma regressor, primarily. She started regressing as a coping mechanism when she was being harassed at school. At first, she didn't know what it was. After her first time regressing, she did some research and learned about the term "age regression". She realized that it matched her case perfectly, and from then on she was an age regressor.

🍪She usually regresses somewhere between 5-12, but on bad days can go as young as 3-4. Despite her usually older regression age, she likes having a pacifier and items suited for younger kiddos. She loves playing with toys like baby dolls, play kitchens, and play makeup, but also really likes making jewlery.

🩷Y'know those little kids disney princess nightgowns? Like the frilly ones? She really likes those! She likes to spin around and pretend that she's a princess. Once Jane becomes her primary caregiver, she'll either have Jane pretend to be a princess, too, or Jane'll become her loyal servant!

🍪She LOVES having her hair done! After bathtime, Jane'll sit her down and do pretty hairstyles on her. Nina's thrilled; she always shows off her pretty new hairstyle afterwards!

🩷Speaking of bathtime, she likes bathtime! She likes to have bubbles and bathbombs in the tub, then of course plenty of toys to play with! Jane washes her hair for her and plays with her, smiling as Nina giggles from the bubbles and stuff. Afterwards, of course, Jane helps her put some scented lotion on and dries her off with a princess-themed towel, making sure she's comfy cozy <3

🍪She's a pretty energetic kiddo. Not super hyper, butshe loves running around and doing stuff. She hates being bored! She's also really giggly and silly when regressed, laughing happily at everything and making childlike jokes.

🩷When sleepy, she likes the lights to be dimmed, but her nightlight to be on. She would possibly have LED lights, y'know the ones that change colors? They'd be turned on, either pink or purple. Once the lights are just how she likes them, she likes to kiss and hug AAAALLL of her stuffed animals goodnight! She doesn't want them to be sad, of course!

🍪Jane usually reads her a bedtime story, then turned on Nina's little disney princess CD player, playing childrens songs at a volume that won't disturb either of them as they sleep. Sometimes, Jane'll cuddle with Nina (and her 500 stuffed animals, of course. She's a collector) and they sleep aalllll night long, comfy and cozy.

🩷When Jane and Nina spend the night together, sleeping and cuddling, it's nice as if Nina has a nightmare, then her favorite caregiver is right there, ready to comfort her and give her all the affection in the world.

🍪Overall, Nina's a pretty good kid when regressed, and Jane's a great caregiver to her.

🩷🍪🍩

[nostalgic-woodwind]

Monsters, Monsters Everywhere!

Plot: Jax reads a scary story about monsters to the babies.

Heavily based (and quoted) on a Baby Looney Tunes episode called “Duck! Monster! Duck!”

TADC! Nursery AU belongs to @txttabloid

Paisley and Orchid belong to @nostalgic-woodwind/@nostalgic-doodles

It was nighttime at the Digital Circus, and the babies were playing in the nursery before bed.

Gangle and Orchid were coloring in their coloring books, Paisley, Pomni, and Ragatha were riding on a rocking horse together (with Pomni almost getting nauseous), Zooble was building a block tower, Kinger was playing with his toy insects, and Jax was reading a book about bunnies.

"Uh-huh... interesting..." Jax nodded as he flipped through his book.

"Whatcha doing?" Paisley asked as she walked over to Jax.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm reading this marvelous book!"

"Nuh-uh, you're the youngest out of all of us. You can't read," Ragatha replied as she and Pomni walked over to the pair.

"Yeah, I can," Jax argued.

"No, you can't," Paisley and Ragatha teased in unison.

"Yeah, I can."

"No, you can't."

"Yeah, I can!"

"Oh, yeah? Prove it," Paisley challenged.

"Okay, you're on. I can read this whole book by myself," Jax scoffed.

"Hey, everyone! Jax is gonna read from a real book!" Ragatha called out to everyone while Jax tried to stop her; too little, too late.

"Jax can read? This I gotta see," Zooble said nonchalantly.

The rest of the babies gathered around Jax as he was sweating bullets. If only he kept his big mouth shut.

"Alright, here goes," Jax gulped as he opened the book he was reading. "Once there was a time when-"

"Excuse me, Jax. If I may, but it's actually 'once upon a time'," Kinger pointed out.

"Well, Mr. Know-it-all, I'm reading the book and it says 'once there was a time'. Now, do you want me to read to you or not?"

"Sorry..."

"Anyway... once there was a time when there was... uh... a clown princess, and a..." Jax continued as he flipped through the pages. "And a clown prince. They lived in a beautiful... circus kingdom, where there were a zillion balloon horses and birds in the sky."

"Boring," Zooble sighed.

Zooble wasn't wrong. The babies were incredibly bored by Jax's "story". Even Orchid was falling asleep.

"Uh... horses... birds..." Jax kept going, trying to figure how to spice up his story and prove he can read. "Oh, yeah! There were also monsters in the trees!"

The babies gasped in shock, except for Zooble, who was unamused.

"Yeah, and there were monsters in the kingdom lake," Jax said, causing the babies to gasp again. "And there were monsters that lived next door to the horses' stables!"

"No! Not next to the horses' stables!" Gangle cried out as she hugged Kinger tightly.

"There were so many monsters in this kingdom, that they would sneak into the castle and hide under beds, closests, and even toy boxes."

Caine opened the door. Bubble was carrying a tray of baby bottles on top of his head.

"Okay, kiddos, time for bed," Caine said.

The babies, sans Jax and Zooble, cowered in fear.

"Bubble, I told you not to give the kids sugary snacks before bedtime," Caine muttered to Bubble as he handed the babies their bottles.

"Gee, that was some story, Jax," Zooble said. "However, Caine read from that book before and I haven't heard a thing about monsters in it."

"That because I made it up," Jax smirked.

"I knew you couldn't read."

"What can I say? Why read when you have a big imagination? You should've seen how jumpy I made everyone!"

"Just be careful and make sure that imagination of yours doesn't make you jumpy," Zooble rolled their eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous," Jax scoffed.

Caine was tucking Gangle in when she pointed at the closet.

"Is everything okay, Gangle?" Caine asked.

Gangle shook her head and pointed at the closet again.

"Monster..." Gangle gulped.

Caine flew over to the closet and opened it.

"Silly Gangle, there's no monsters in the closet," Caine chuckled.

"Caine…" Pomni whimpered as she pointed under her crib.

"Do you think there are monsters under your crib, Pomni?" Caine asked.

Pomni nodded as Caine checked under her crib.

"It's okay, Pomni. No monsters under here, either," Caine said confidently.

The ringmaster then went over to Orchid's crib to tuck them in. The stuffed zebra was clutching onto their blankie for dear life as they pointed at the open toy box.

"Everyone can relax. I assure you all that there is no such thing as monsters and there are no monsters in this room," Caine told everyone as he shut the toy box and turned off the lights. "Goodnight, my little superstars."

Caine and Bubble then left the room.

"'Goodnight', Caine says..." Kinger gulped. "I'll be lucky if I can close my eyes."

Kinger managed to close his eyes and fall asleep.

"I hope Caine's right about monsters not being here," Gangle said to herself.

This gave Jax a clever and mischievous idea. He grabbed a flashlight and shined it on the wall that was on the opposite side of the cribs. Jax began making shadow puppets of various monsters, which scared everyone (all except for Zooble). He even made a shadow puppet of a centipede and it frightened Ragatha to death.

"This is gonna be my best one yet," Jax grinned as he made a shadow of a dragon.

"Heh, that's a cool dragon. Not gonna scare me, though," Zooble said as they went to sleep.

“Oh, no! The monsters! They got me!” Jax fake-cried as he climbed out of the crib. He continued fake-screaming as he crawled over to the dress-up chest and opened it, where there were multiple hand puppets inside.

“Do you think Jax will be okay?” Pomni asked Orchid.

“I-I d-d-don’t kn-now,” Orchid stammered, still clutching onto their blanket.

Jax raised a vampire puppet next to Orchid’s crib. He shined the flashlight on the puppet and made a hissing sound. Orchid and Pomni screamed and hid underneath their covers.

The bunny switched puppets and grabbed a witch puppet. He went over to Ragatha’s crib and shined the flashlight on the witch, making a cackling sound. Ragatha shrieked as she crawled behind her pillow.

Jax proceeded to scare Paisley with a werewolf puppet. After that, he went over to Kinger’s crib. Jax did his best to scare the sleeping chess piece with his monster puppets, but to no avail.

“Wow, Hoo-ha’s a sound sleeper,” Jax muttered.

Jax then crept over to Gangle’s crib and shined his flashlight on a Frankenstein puppet. Gangle began crying as the rest of the babies all screamed in terror.

The bunny quietly snickered, thinking that he fooled everyone until the lights were turned on by Zooble.

“Jax!” The babies yelled in unison.

“Okay, what’s going on, Jax?” Zooble glared. “I knew immediately it was you when I woke up to everyone screaming.”

“I got you! You should’ve seen your faces!” Jax laughed.

“Huh, what? Is it time for breakfast?” Kinger yawned as he woke up.

“That was not funny, Jax!” Ragatha scolded.

“We should tell Caine on you,” Paisley angrily added.

“You even made Gangle cry!” Orchid scowled.

“It’s not very nice to be scaring people,” Gangle sniffled.

“Especially when we’re supposed to be sleeping,” Zooble yawned.

“Oh, you guys are no fun,” Jax rolled his eyes as he returned to his crib. “Well, you won’t have to worry about being scared tonight because I’m exhausted.”

Zooble turned off the lights before heading back to their crib.

“Everyone in the circus knows there’s no such thing as monsters,” Jax chuckled to himself as he fell asleep.

———

A Few Hours Later…

Everyone was sound asleep in the nursery when a tapping noise was heard from outside.

Jax woke up to this. He stood up and looked out the window. The tree branches were the cause of the sound, but he didn’t know that. He looked around the nursery and saw scary shadows all around him.

“A space alien!” Jax gasped when he saw one shadow. He then saw another shadow where he thought it was a cyclops. He then saw a sea monster, causing him to scream and hide under his bedsheets. “The monsters are gonna get me! They’re gonna get me for real this time!”

Caine came in the nursery to see what was going on. He turned on the lights, which caused the rest of the babies to wake up.

“Jax, Jax, it’s okay,” Caine said as he went over to Jax’s crib and picked the frightened bunny up. “There’s no monsters in here.”

Jax stopped screaming and looked around.

“Hey, there’s no space alien… no cyclops and no sea monster either,” Jax realized as he laughed with relief.

“See what I said about not letting your imagination make you jumpy?” Zooble remarked.

“Yeah, you’re right. Hey, can someone hand me that storybook?”

Jax pointed at the book he read earlier and Caine handed it to him.

“What do you want it for?” Caine asked as he set Jax back in his crib.

“I’ve got a lot of reading to do,” Jax said as he began flipping through the book. “Maybe one of these more calming stories can help me sleep.”

[gumballavocadoharry]

Harry and River;

Bedtime routine:

It was striking 8:00 and River was dancing around to Spongebob episode, mimicking off Patrick doing a silly dance. "Alright, Rivie it's bedtime now." "But I'm not-" River was then cut off by a yawn. "Yes you are," I forgot yawns are contagious, "And so am I." I turned off the Tv and picked River up and took him upstairs. "First it's bath time, then we brush our teeth, then story then-"

"Milk and cookies!" River cheered. I gave way to a small giggle. "And maybe some milk and cookies."

I ran the bath, adding in extra bubbles and toys for River. He was in his room getting undressed before coming into the bathroom. River was wrapped in his teddy bear towel, holding it close to him. "Come on baby, let's get you into the bathie," I took the towel and tried taking it off him, only to be fought.

"No daddy! I'm a big boy," River turned away, "In fact, I can get in the tub myself." My heart broke a little more than it should've. "Are you sure?" He nodded, "But I used to change you!" I cooed, I gently pinched River's cheeks, "I changed your diapies!"

"Daaaad!" I was cut off by. And I thought River's threenager stage was over. I turned around while River helped himself into the tub. The splashes made me turn around. "Okay, how about Mr. Bubbles gets in on this?" I made the already overflowing bubbles in the tub, spill over as the mixture of watermelon scented shampoo and body wash only added to the chaos of the tub.

"I'm splash man!" River coupled that with a big splash in the tub that pretty much soaked me. He spotted my unamused look as I was drenched in 'Splash man's' splashes. "River, you're the one taking a bath," I upped my tone as not to sound testy. "Sorry daddy." He contrited. "Oh, I could never stay mad at my pooh bear." I cooed, while rubbing his head.

"No daddy, Imma big boy...." I pouted a little, "You don't wanna be daddy's pooh bear?" River pouted a little too. It was only then I could see just how much our reactions were alike; we shared a puppy dog pout. "I'm no baby!" He squealed. I sat my elbow on the edge of the tub and put my hand to my cheek.

"I know...." I drifted a little, "It's just.....this world can be so harsh..and keeping you a little baby is my way protecting you." Of course not really, but I did nudge my nose to River's own one. "I love you."

"Love you too dada." He flashed this toothy smile that gleamed innocence. "What harsh world daddy?" I gulped a little, eyes wondering towards the floor. "Mean people who'll hurt you for no reason....bad things....crooks, robbers....like the bad guys on tv except much worse."

River looked worried, "Will they eat all my cookies?" I couldn't help but gasp an awe. "No sweetie, daddy will make sure they don't....I'll protect you...forever,"

"Forever and ever?" "Forever. And that's a promise. With every living being and breath!" I smushed my puckered lips into River's chubby cheeks before getting him out of the bathtub and wrapping him in towel. "Go get into your pj's while I empty the tub."

My mind still flickered over the conversation with River I had. I cleaned the tub just....worrying, worrying about the dangers of the world; now and in the future. When River wants more freedom....I get scared. I want him to grow of course into this capable human being, but at the same time I worry about what might happen to him and how I don't want anything to hurt him.

Everytime I think of teenage River, all I can see is those big green eyes who look up to me, asking for a "cookie." I just can't help but kiss him all over his face and just wrap myself around like a thick shield that would defend him to the death of necessary.

After draining the tub, I met River in his bedroom where he was in his pajamas. I lotioned his body and then dried his hair off before plopping River into his snuggly bed and moving rexie in with him. "Who's ready for a bedtime story?" River raised his and rexie's hand/claw. "We are!" River climbed out of bed and snuggled next to me, making me wrap my arm around him.

"What do you think this story's gonna be about?" River scanned over the cover; a duckling, a cat and a goldfish all had umbrellas in their hands. "Playing in the rain?" I smiled, "Well, let's see."

River sucked his thumb through the whole story, eyes glued to what would happen next. "The end," I closed the book and turned towards River. "Wasn't that a great story?" He nodded looking sleepy. "I know what would help....how about some warm milky?" I cooed a little in my baby voice. I brought River up some warm milk in his favorite green and blue sippy cup with triceratops on it. "Are we all set?" I softly said.

"Yeah," River smacked, taking a break from drinking his milk. "And rexie has his milky too?" Rexie nodded. "Okay, well then that means it's time for my big ferocious dinosaurs to get their goodnight kissies." I pressed my lips to River's cheeks before pressing another one to rexie's. "Goodnight my little dino...." I softly trailed off, watching as River gently closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

I went back to my bedroom and silently sketched before my eyes became heavy and found myself drifting to sleep as well.

[roamingtigress]

The Merry Misadventures of Hosea and The Mustached Idiot

Chapter One -

The Matthews Mattress

I feel the warmth of the morning sun on my face, and a heavy feeling blanketing, weighting down my form. I sigh. There's some 6'1 tall idiot with a mustache and a silly soul patch lying on top of me, wrapping a strong arm around me, the other draped off the bed. There was a pair of long legs sprawled out over the edge of the bed, which was only made for one, but Mustached Idiot here -- all 185 pounds of him -- decided that was only a suggestion.

But he's MY Mustached Idiot. Brilliant and stupid and frustrating and a pain in the ass all at the same time; Dutch can read the direction from the sky, but can't or won't follow a line on a map, but someone has to look after him. And we love each other, oh so much, bickering and all like the old couple that we are. Some fellow, Reverend Joe Swanson, got us married. And ol' Dutch isn't half bad to look at, either. When he shuts up, he can say a lot with his face when it isn't in a book, or doing some odd job that I get myself into now and then with him. Sometimes Arthur, and sometimes John with some convincing comes along (John always fights with Dutch over the issue of direction and Dutch is convinced he's heading in the right direction and that John simply can't be correct because that's not what the moon is telling him). Occasionally Sadie and Sean come along on our bounty missions or even on just a trail ride, and there's always some sort of chaos that erupts; a bounty usually dies, and a wild animal completely redirects us off course, particularly wolves; I don't know what it is, but the wolves come out of the woodwork when that man is out and about.

On that subject of books, Dutch and I have a nightly routine where we would get a book and read a chapter of it before bedtime . . . Something we've been doing since we first dated all those years ago. Sometimes we don't get sleep well into the night because sometimes we stop and end up discussing whatever is happening in the chapter.

"Dutch, I need to breathe -- "

I hear some clanking around. A somewhat, heavyset, tall fellow (even taller than the human blanket on top of me), well dressed considering his occupation working with tanning fluids, with a grey beard, half talking to himself about someone named Maggie Fike, half talking to me because he heard my sigh. The gentleman, none other than J.B Cripps. We agreed on a business deal with him; for a campsite that he'd move around here and there, we could have a good steady cash flow involving the sale of furs, feathers and hides. Cripps is . . . An interesting fellow with some strange stories to tell. One involved him being an acrobat in Portugal. Another involved a failed bank job in Tennessee with someone named Phil the Crab and Limpy Pete. Cripps doesn't care much for dogs, though. Poor Matilda! What a lovely Labrador she is, with her shiny black coat, always happy nature. She does her best.

The coffee he was brewing smelled good though and the smell of bacon and eggs was wafting in the air. The food came from the stockyard in Valentine in some high-risk, high-reward job that actually worked according to, er, plan. The pigs that he killed in the middle of the night were located right behind the police station; whom he also collects bounties for. What he hadn't used were sold to the butcher who took the remains without question. Nobody said that Dutch isn't a complex character. I accompanied him because adult supervision is required from time to time, and I needed to get a cold drink for a change.

Dutch still hasn't stirred too much from his sleep and he's making some sort of odd sound of contentment; something of a mew, something of a growl. He has a stupid crooked smile on his face as he uses my chest as a pillow and I don't have the heart to wake him; he looks at once ridiculous and gorgeous. I gently petted his cheek, a little rough from a day's missed shave. We went on a long-distance delivery from Cumberland Forest to Blackwater, and when he came home he had only a few hours of rest before the stockyard raid, giving him very little time for a shave, which is more than just a quick chore, it was a venture. He normally slept in his Union suit but the business of slaughtering pigs in rain-soaked slop is a messy business and he hadn't wanted to come to bed smelling like muck and shit, so he stripped himself down after a quick dip in the river, and put on some pants he used for some chores; nothing he'd wear out into town, but did its job. Sleeping in the nude is something he's also not above doing, but it was a bit nippy for that tonight and as he's gotten older the cold is something we've both grown more intolerant to.

I want to breathe and feel circulation in my body again, but . . . I still don't have the heart to wake him just yet. I want to just admire him for a moment longer. I traced a finger around that wonderful Roman nose of his, and after he let his arm slip off of me, which helped me move a bit, and then move my finger along the shape his mustache and that soulpatch. I run a hand through his lovely hair of his up a bit. I've long been a fan of how his hair looks in the morning before he puts on the pomade. Satisfied with my work, I slid my hand over a shoulder and down his back, which had been aching a bit after that long delivery run. Judy is a lovely Suffolk Punch mare -- under the saddle -- but a bitch in the hitch and will take the bit and run with it, and his poor back was suffering from it. I lean in and kiss his forehead, and just lightly, work a light massage into his lower back. There was a particularly nasty knot there and I worked on it with gradually firming touch. I felt the muscle twitching underneath my touch and then, subside.

I hear Cripps moving about still, doing odd jobs. Matilda barked at something, and Dynformer, that fine Thoroughbred stallion, snorted, and pawed at the dirt, eager to get the day started. Usually, he would be going out for a ride about now but someone decided to sleep in (or rather sleep on).

"I don't want to interrupt anythin', but breakfast is ready. I'll keep it warm over the fire."

It was a nice bonus to work with someone who had been accepting us as a couple; we didn't need to hide away when we camp; sure we could sneak out, and we still do for fun, but, that wasn't needed. You can say what you want to say about Cripps, but he even set up a nice little area for us a candle on a table for a romantic night setup by the cauldron, though we normally had our place at the bonfire. It was a nice thought and we have been there for reading while Cripps popped out in town.

My stomach nagged me. Breakfast did smell good. But I still had this Mustached Idiot on top of me. What am I to do?

Dutch's stupid smile widened as I traced my hand through his touseled hair again, and let a finger slip along his soft jawline; my other wasn't free just yet. Dutch was manipulating me in his sleep, just by being adorable. As I thought of a plan, I absentmindedly moved my hand down to his sensitive ribs. I didn't even realize I was doing it, but I was petting him like I do with Matilda and I felt him squirm under my touch, a happy sigh escaping from him. He was slowly waking; it was masterful manipulation, or so he likely thought, just so that he lay on me longer. But this wasn't my first rodeo and I had a trick up my sleeve, and my smirk that I had since I woke up, widened.

"Mmf!" Dutch squeaks out, initially trying to muffle it but it snuck out when I slipped a finger just under the hem of his pants, finding that sweet spot on his right hip, and he squirms. God, I love that waist of his, strangely serpentine, with a certain feminine quality to it. And I know it's one of his soft spots, particularly the right hip.

"Waking up are we, babygirl?" I grin, and then sigh again as he simply turns over onto me like I'm a fucking mattress. What did I get myself into?

Dutch let out a low whimpering growl, his head tilted back. Purring, he was fucking purring! "Mrr . . . " That stupid smile just grew.

"I know you're awake, Duchess."

I caught the glimpse of an eye fluttering open as I snaked a hand towards his belly, another sensitive spot. My other hand is rested over his heart and I feel him lightly placing his hand over mine, and then taking it, lightly, so lightly just kissing it. It was a silent 'I love you'; a nice little morning routine before whatever lays ahead for us for that day.

"How long have you been awake?" I tap that nose of his.

I refuse to touch him again until I get an answer, but that sonofabitch arches his back and presses his midriff into my hands, and I dance them away again. He pouts and gives me puppy dog eyes as he flops back down on me again, but those eyes are smiling. I do love seeing this playful side of him; it reminds me of the old days so much. And with that, I feel younger.

"Oh . . . About an hour." The twinkle in his eyes showed in his voice.

I give him a slap on the belly; there's a tiny bit of a thud, and he lets out this wheezy chortle. There's a chance we'll likely get in finer shape (there's a tinge of softness on both in both of us old dads but looking pretty damn good, mind) soon enough with all that we've signed up for.

"You shit -- "

Dutch just laughs, placing a hand over my other hand that's over his heart, he gives it a light squeeze. A sort of squeeze that he'd do to pacify me whenever I got upset in a silent plea to not be angry; he knows I'm not upset, but he plays the part, and I play along.

"You was pettin' me, 'sea -- " He answers coyly, and repositioned himself slightly; no, not for my comfort, but so that he can kiss me on the neck as he does to get out of trouble, even in our arguments when he wants to get back on my good graces.

Dutch got one over me! The boy needs to be put in his place! "You -- " I break from my stern expression though and I just laugh, lightly tickling him; as per usual he tries not to laugh and tries to stay stoic, but, it sneaks out. I take delight in that laugh, feeling him squirming under my touch. I slow my fingers down to a gentle stroke and then, with my free hand, I hold him tight, and I bury my face into that lovely, tousled hair.

"I think I love you . . ." Dutch murmured as he moves up into my touch, and in return, he kisses me, touching me, wherever he can. I realize I'm not helping my situation and only encouraging him.

"I think I love you too, you know . . . " I smile. And that smartass side of his sneaks out.

"Someone's got to."

I kiss that idiot, and for that moment, I don't want him to get up. We'll eventually get up and have our breakfast; Matilda is getting a little needy, but for just a few or more minutes, he'll remain in my arms.

"You got me that time, but there will be another."

[littlest-nightingale]

Little!Rani / CG!Kion (The Lion Guard)

(for nobody but myself cause I'm silly=b)

Rani is very good at hiding her regression. As queen and leader of the night pride, something so vulnerable needs to stay secret, or else they risk enemies using it to their advantage

Wishes so desperately that she could leave the Tree of Life while regressed

Often finds herself looking at Makini's drawings, like a storybook

Besties with Fuli, who is not a regressor, but knows ab Rani's regression

Big fan of playing in the water

Likes to hunt bugs and such because she doesn't like to actually hunt when little

Most of her regression time is spent asleep

Kion took to her regression very quickly, but still occasionally struggles with remembering that she's in a different headspace

Takes her on walks when she's feeling old enough to leave

Takes on some of her duties to give her more time to regress

Very affectionate and reassuring, makes sure she knows her regression isn't a burden or a sign of weakness

He's good at knowing what triggers her regression/when she tends to regress and getting her the heck out of a situation if needed

Tells her about his adventures with the Lion Guard and childhood in the Pridelands as bedtime stories if she can't sleep

[crows-home]

for the get to know your fic writer thing- 3, 7, 17, and 11!

(3 - Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic)

(7 - How do you choose which POV to write from?)

(17 - What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

(11 - Link your three favorite fics right now)

This answer got a little long uh. oops! ^^" Here's my silly answer, but my more in depth answers will be below the cut

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

Usually it starts with a little idea in my brain. A "gosh wouldn't this be such an interesting/ fun scenario?" They're usually just for me to play in my own brain as bedtime stories, and nothing more. But sometimes I'm hit with that itch to write and get something out there.

I do what I like to call "word vomit." Just. Writing whatever the hell comes to my mind. Here are some examples I found in my doc that make me laugh looking back now

The beginning phase is just me going ham!! Throwing ideas at the wall, typing whatever's in my head without spell check or care. Like i'm writing notes to myself.

After that I do "scenes." Basically just breaking down big moments of the fic that I have in my head and writing them down. You know those moments/ideas that you come up with in your head that you can't stop relaying? That.

After that it's just connecting the dots, making everything fit together. I like to think of it like painting. Mixing together colors, seeing what fits and what doesn't, using different brushes. Sometimes I'll get through a scene and realize I'm rambling too much, it has too much dialogue, it doesn't make sense with the story- so I scrap that piece or find a way to save it for a different part of the story.

Then editing. A lot of editing. And hating what I wrote, wondering why people like it. Leaving the canvas alone for a while, coming back and going "actually i really like this. this is so fucking cool, especially for what i have planned at the end hehehe" Sometimes I polish it up in a way that i like, sometimes I go "fuck it. it's good enough"

And THEN it's done :)

7. How do you choose which POV to write from?

It's a few factors! Sometimes it's based on what I think would be fun (ex: "What if I wrote a fanfiction from Sonic's perspective. What might he have been thinking/ going through?") But sometimes it's what I want my readers to see.

Like, in the last chapter of "You are at your lowest", I wrote in Rouge's perspective during her meet-up with a certain character. That's because I intentionally didn't want the audience to have the other character's P.O.V. I wanted to leave readers wondering/ guessing/ confused.

17 - What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

Depends!! If I'm not feeling inspired, I'll usually check on Tumblr or instagram to get back in the mood/ vibe or read some comments that people have left!! They really pull my head out of a dull space when i need it :) <3 If I've got writer's block, I'll either take weeks off writing or force myself to sit down and just write, no matter how bad it is. Then I just work with what I have.

11. Link your three favorite fics right now

aaaaaaa ok i love reccing fics and i have a lot but here's a few:

Slumber Party by Detton

Summary: Edward Richtofen and his traveling partner, "Tank" Dempsey try to survive in an ice apocalypse.

It's been years since i've played CoD- probably almost a decade, now- but a while ago went looking for Zombies fics for the nostalgia of it. And ough, this fic has my heart!! A Dempsey/Richtofen WIP that includes the main four and their interactions in an ice apocalypse. i just really like it a lot, and if this is your thing, i recommend it!! It's super sweet, and has superb writing 👌

The Buzzsaw Dilemma by redpenship

Summary: How do you stop an unstoppable force?

Three weeks after meeting Sonic, Tails is kidnapped by Doctor Eggman and tasked with building a machine capable of defeating the hedgehog. His success marks his first day as the doctor's secret apprentice, in which he must help the Eggman Empire against his will.

Tails becomes determined to use what little power he has to reduce the empire’s harm. When larger threats arise, he realizes that he can use his influence to save the world—and if all goes well, destroy the empire from the inside out, too.

If only alien invasions didn’t make things so complicated.

OUOSUDHFSFHSDH OBSESSED!!! oh man, a WIP about Tails being forced to help Eggman, and I'm super stoked to see where it goes. But heed the tags, because it does say "Major Character Death" and "Animal death"!! I'm so enthralled by the world building and reading this take on Sonic and Tails. Brainworms!!

Lastly I'm gonna link Sometimes the Picket Fence isn't Perfect by @skimmingmilk. It's a whole series on Sonic and Tails finessing their way past Mobian CPS and it's just so hasdkasdbkhas.

i'm still getting caught up, but i watched the last bit of the latest work being written on stream a few days ago and i 🥹🥺😭 they're so cute. They're brothers your honor!!

[lunarlagomorph]

I've given these past few days some thought and... I can't really put my finger on it. There's something awfully familiar about all of this, don't you think old sport? I've got this weird sense of déjà vu from the most random of things. Like please do stop me if you've heard this before - There is an ominous moon staring down on us, this term 'Termina' thrown around awfully lot... ...The accidental inclusion of Bremen army to all this, the three day time limit... And did you get to see those lovely owl cultist chaps yet? It's all just so-- It's all just so familiar, isn't it? That has lead me to think how myths and legends are born in the first place. Everyone knows the classics that originate from mere fairy tales told to children before their bedtime. I would be one to know them better than many, if you catch my drift my dear friend. Time took those tales and kept telling them again and again. Like a good broken telephone, the stories took new forms depending on who was telling them. The living pictures we see on the silver screen would barely be recognizable to the sweet little children folk who first heard the tales hundreds of years ago, told by their mothers. It's a wild ride for sure. What do you think will happen to modern tales crafted straight to the silver screen in this day and age? Are we going to take elements from those stories and keep honing them to perfection as well? Let the good old broken telephone keep the good bits while we selfishly craft new meat around them? Are we going to see this ill-tempered (rightly so), pale old moon threat mankind time and time again with his strict three day limit? Are we going to dress into these silly masks and act the parts meant for the people that came before us? What do you reckon, love? I genuinely don't know myself...”

I like Pocketcat's (Daan's) little bit about inspiration and stories

[themostleastuseful]

A Review of a Thing

Greetings denizens of the incomprehensible abyss known as the internet, I am a random nobody who criticizes the art of people far more talented than I will ever be. This is the first time I have done anything remotely like this, so do not be surprised if you find it lacking. I know I sure do. Anyhoo, today I will be talking about a horror movie that wants to be a poem so badly that it forgot to have a point.

How do I describe I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House? Boring is too simple a word for how little I cared about anything that happened in this movie. Maybe colorless, or would that be too obvious? When the most interesting thing in a multimillion dollar film is a mold stain, money has not been spent well. It is styled as a gothic horror in the tradition of The Fall of the House of Usher and other Edgar Allen Poe works, but Poe it is not. His stories had themes more interesting than “death is kind of scary, right?”

The movie is about a woman named Lily who is hired to work as a live-in nurse for an old horror novelist (named Iris Blum) with dementia. A simple setup with potential for interesting payoffs. Are there going to be nightmarish creatures spawned from the mind of a creative individual slowly losing their grip on reality? Is the nurse on the run from a past she can never truly escape? Will the main character ever go outside? All of these questions, and more, will be immediately answered no because there isn’t enough time between all the shots of walls.

The plot goes thusly: The nurse shows up, Iris mistakes her for the ghost she’d been talking to for inspiration, Lily reads the book based on Polly (the ghost)’s story and figures out that it had actually happened in the house, then sees Polly in person and dies of a heart attack. Iris dies too because there was nobody left to care for her, then the last ten minutes are Lily monologuing about how dead she is. 

Lily is one of the main problems I have with the movie. For starters, she talks like a grandma with an odd cadence reminiscent of someone telling a bedtime story. It kind of works for her monologues (though the language is so flowery it makes me want to sneeze) but she even does it when talking to her friend, who she calls a slut the way you might call a puppy silly. I am aware that the actress is British, but then why make her do an American accent? 

 Lily is a mix of childish and extremely odd that might make sense if she were supposed to be mentally handicapped in some way, but there is absolutely no indication that she is. Not to say it would be a bad thing, I’m autistic myself. It’s just that, if you’re going to make such a character, you’re going to need to establish or at least hint at it at some point.

 There is a ghost, but we never really find out much about her or her motives. It seems like she wants to show the world what her ultimate fate was, but then she goes and makes Lily hallucinate that there’s mold growing on her arms (the only remotely interesting scene in the movie, by the way.) What’s that for? If she just wants vengeance on the living, why does she tolerate the writer living in her house for decades? Why was she murdered anyway? What’s the significance of her walking around with her upper half on backwards? 

While I complain, the movie does manage to set an atmosphere of doom. The house feels empty and dark even during the day, and the music sets you on edge when it’s supposed to. The problem is, though, that the movie barely does anything with it. building tension without adequate release leaves viewers feeling stressed. A movie that has you feeling worse than when you started is not one you want to see again. Anyway, more complaining.

Like I said before, there is a foundation for something good buried within the snores. The movie has themes of aging and decay, with Iris being shown to have once been quite attractive, but time has taken her mind and body.  Very gothic horror, but none of it feels like it was used to its proper potential. It should have focused more on the author and her futile struggle against time, with the house visibly deteriorating as a reflection of it. Maybe the ghost could change too, slowly becoming more corpselike until it disappears and the actual body busts out of its hole to do some spooking. As it is, I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House bats the idea of beauty being transient around like a cat with a toy but never goes in for the kill. (The two central characters are named after flowers ooo so deep)

[koolkat9]

Fem Ship Event Day 2

@hwsevents

Prompt:  Wondertalia || Fairy Tales

Rating: T

Pairing: Nyo GerEng

Word Count: 647

Author’s Note: I hope I’m not too late. I didn’t know if I would even get to make something for this even since school started up and GerFra week is approaching, but I managed!

Read on AO3

Deja Vu

One moment torch light illuminated their way, the next, shadows hid them. If Katherine was being honest, she preferred the dark. That way, they wouldn’t be seen.

Monika gripped her hand, dragging her through the shifting halls. Outside the castle walls, muffled shouts erupted like cannon fire; it was only a matter of time before they breached the castle walls.

But freedom was in sight. If they made it to the passageway just up ahead they could escape to the outskirts of town underground and ride off to a secret cottage Katherine’s parents had made in case something like this ever happened. She could spot the trap door now, just a few more strides and they–

A figure appeared between them and the trap door, sword drawn. The next few minutes were a blur of red, orange, and black. The grip on Katherine’s hand fell away along with a sickening squelching sound.  

Monika stared wide-eyed at the tip of the sword protruding through her stomach before crumpling to the floor. But before her body could hit the floor, Katherine caught her and cradled her injured guard against her chest. Darkness crept into the corners of her vision as she watched the blood trickle down Monika’s blouse. This couldn’t be happening. It should have been her. Katherine was the one who messed up, Monika just wanted everyone to be safe, happy. This…This wasn’t  fair .

“Katherine, wake up!” a distant voice seemed to shout. “Hey…Hey, it’s okay. It’s just a dream. Wake up Hase…”

Katherine gasped, springing forward, almost bonking her head against Monika’s. Monika sat in front of her, alive and well, loosely holding onto the book  Alice in Wonderland.  Katherine shuddered.

Over Monika’s shoulder, Katherine spotted Wendy fast asleep. Right, Wendy had asked her and Monika to read her a bedtime story. Katherine took a few deep breaths.

“Shh…You’re okay, you’re safe,” Monika murmured, caressing Katherine’s cheek.

“I-I’m alright,” Katherine assured her, pulling away from the touch (though she would have liked nothing more than to just lean into it).

“Want to talk about it?”

Katherine shook her head, rising to her feet. “It’s stupid.”

“Now is not the time to act tough Katherine. What happened?”

Katherine just wanted some tea, to curl up in bed and wait until her nerves finally calmed. It was just a silly little nightmare…except…

She couldn’t shake the sense of deja vu it gave her.

Monika pulled Katherine against her, squeezing her a little too tightly, but it was also grounding. Katherine let herself be held, leaning against her lover.

“The story,” Katherine choked out, “I-I felt…I felt like…It’s going to sound crazy, but I felt like I lived it. That we lived it. I, as queen, and you…my loyal guard. A-And you…” Katherine couldn’t say it around the lump in her throat.

Monika rubbed up and down her back. “Shhh…It’s okay. I…I actually kind of get what you mean.” Katherine looked up at her as Monika continued. “Like how I felt like I knew you the first time we met. I got that same familiar feeling reading the story.”

Katherine sniffed, then buried her face in Monika’s chest. “Ever heard of reincarnation?” Katherine eventually asked.

“Yeah…”

“Perhaps I was once the Queen of Hearts with you–” She booped Monika’s nose, smiling slightly. “Were my faithful guard. And we were given a second chance together.”

Monika chuckled, cheeks a lovely rose colour. “I think we’ve been reading too many fairy tales.”

Katherine found herself giggling too. “Maybe…But it’s a romantic idea don’t you think.”

“I’d rather not think of myself dying, thank you.”

Katherine put her hands up in defense. “Fair, fair.”

“But…” Something dark flashed in Monika’s eyes, her hand instinctively going to her stomach. “Perhaps we should stay out of Wonderland for a little while.”

Katherine smiled gently, placing a hand on her lover’s shoulder. “I agree. That’s easily arrangeable.”

[strange-calathea]

Finally fleshing out the first ever bedtime story I told myself to fall asleep because the plot is just so strange (/pos) I had to share it

So basically, they're assassins, they do murder for hire but in a big corporation that specializes in this! Anyway the two main characters are partnered together on the more challenging cases and they have a very tropey little romance story and one of them is a drag queen when they're not murdering! I also didn't wanna share it because I don't wanna contribute to the "gay people are all secretly evil murderers" bullshit but like,,, it's so much more than that to me I accidently stayed up for hours thinking about these losers but I just filed them away because I thought it would be problematic but I kinda don't give a shit anymore,,, I'm a queer artist making queer art literally who cares!!!! And it's not like I'm trying to convince children to be gay and do crime I just wanna write a silly little love story with my favorite tropes