#rock and mr. frog

[askwonderpets]

Hey Ollie, how are Rock and Mr.Frog doing?

Ollie~ My Mom forced me to give them to Omie!

[trailerpark1992]

jim morrison mugshot, 1967.

[canonrenaissance]

CR • This Is Halloween

[senipsenipsenip]

The Pines family sat at the table, quietly eating their breakfast, when Mabel slammed her hands on the table and shouted “KERMIT THE FROG”.

Dipper leapt forward to right his orange juice glass, gathering nearby napkins to sop up the puddle. “What?”

“Kermit the frog! He plays the banjo!”

“Yyyyes?”

Ford raised his hand. “Who’s Kermit the Frog?”

Stan snapped his head up from his plate. “Who’s Kermit the Frog? The Muppets, Pointdexter, you were around for The Muppet Show. They had a movie and everything.”

Ford frowned. “Muppets.”

“Yeah, they’re a riot! There’s this bear whose got some great puns and this pig who really know how to throw a punch. You’d love it, they’ve even got a scientist!”

Ford raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you were such a fan of children’s television.”

“Children?!”

Dipper stirred his cereal. “I’m just impressed you remember all that. Yesterday you forgot you were married.”

“That’s because The Muppets are forever!” Mabel exclaimed.

“Wait, Stanley you were married?”

“Yep. Twice. Actually, unless I’m forgetting a divorce, I might still be married.”

“You didn’t,” Mabel chirped. “I’d have it on my Romance Chart if you did. You’ve missed a lot of anniversaries.”

“So has he!” Stan argued. “I’m not the only bad husband here!”

Ford spluttered. “Husband?”

Dipper frowned. “I think we’re getting a little too far away from why Mabel screamed Kermit the Frog and knocked my orange juice over.”

Mabel nodded. “Right, so, I was thinking of Mr. McGucket -

“Stanley you have a husband?“

“I was thinking of Mr. McGucket,” Mabel interrupted. “And how he could maybe help around the Shack. And he plays banjo! He could play banjo and people could put money in his lil banjo case like a real musician.”

At the mention of money, Stan leaned forward.

“But like, no one knows banjo music,” Mabel continued. “So I was like, maybe pop hits banjo? But then BOOM! Kermit the Frog! People love that frog. He could play the rainbow song. He’d be a hit!”

“Interesting,” Stan muttered. “Preying on people’s nostalgia to milk them for cash. I love it!”

Ford hummed. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea, Mabel. Activities like playing musical instruments have been proven to help patients with Alzheimers and dementia. Not that Fiddleford’s condition has the same root cause, but it may prove beneficial to memory recovery.”

“Eugh, don’t ruin this for me.”

“If playing an instrument helps with memory loss, maybe Grunkle Stan should learn an instrument,” Dipper suggested.

“Ooo!” Mabel squealed. “What about guitar? Or the piano? OH!” She clutched Stan’s arm with a fervor. “The triangle!”

Ford grimaced. “Maybe not that one.”

“Sorry, kid. I’m not exactly a music guy,” Stan shrugged out of Mabel’s grasp. “Let’s leave that to the professionals.”

Mabel frowned, but let the topic go.

Ford stood from the table. “Well, I happen to be visiting Fiddleford this afternoon. I can broach the topic and see what he thinks.”

Fiddleford, as it turns out, loved the idea. To the surprise of everyone, Fiddleford admitted that he had always wanted to play in a jugband when he was younger, but could never get over his stage fright enough to audition for the local band. Then he went off to college and then…everything else.

“Maybe I zapped away that scared bit enough to play!” he had cackled, knocking at the side of his head with his knuckles.

It was settled. “Fiddlin’ Fridays at the Mystery Shack with Fiddleford McGucket”. Dipper tried to point out the title didn’t make sense since it was a banjo, not a fiddle. Stan argued that “customers are suckers for alliteration”. The set up was just Fiddleford dragging an old rocking chair onto the porch and opening up his banjo case. Mabel had made a large glittery banner, but it was quickly absconded by Fiddleford’s raccoon.

“Tell your wife to give me back my banner!” Mabel had yelled, chasing the raccoon into the bushes.

“Ex-wife,” Fiddleford sighed sadly. “Apparently I was too emotionally available.”

Ford pulled at his hair. “Did everyone get married without telling me?”

“Excuse me?” A voice piped up. Fiddleford and Ford turned to see a little boy standing at the bottom of the porch. He was dressed in hiking clothes that were obviously new. In the distance, a young woman was unstrapping a baby from its seat in an SUV. Obviously city folk coming to the “wilderness” for the first time.

“Are you a real hillbilly?” The boy asked. Suddenly the door slammed open, Mr. Mystery striding through, eyepatch in place.

“Sure is!” Stan grinned. “Our very own genuine hillbilly just waiting to play you a tune! All you gotta do is put some of your mom’s money in his case there.”

The little boy’s eyes widened, turning around to race towards his mother.

“Stanley,” Ford admonished. “Fiddleford isn’t some show monkey to throw money at.”

“During work hours he is.” Stan turned to Fiddleford. “So, did Mabel teach you that song she was so excited about?”

Fiddleford sat frozen, watching the little boy yank at his mothers pants to try and get her attention, the baby beginning to fuss.

“Well…” Fiddleford cleared his throat. “Some good news and bad news fellas.”

Ford furrowed his brows. “What is it?”

“Good news is, my mind ain’t all broken.” Fiddleford hugged his banjo and turned to look up at Ford. “Bad news is I knows it ‘cause I still got stage fright.”

Stan scoffed. “Stage fright? C’mon it’s one kid and a couple o’ city slickers who would probably think you playing three wrong notes and spitting is ‘authentic’.”

“Stanley, be supportive.”

“I am! Look I’ve been at this job forever. All you gotta do is smile and if something goes wrong, you blame a ghost or something. They eat that up.”

Fiddleford shook his head. “But this is music. If’n I mess up music, ‘specially somethin’ they know. Music is real special to people, I can’t spoil it.”

Ford knelt down next to Fiddleford’s chair. “You don’t have to play that song Fiddleford. You don’t have to play at all.”

Fiddleford looked anxiously between Ford and the family. It seemed the little boy had finally gotten his mother’s attention and was excitedly pointing toward the porch.

“I…” Fiddleford shook his head. “I can’t let the little ‘uns down. ‘Specially not those ones.” As he said this, he gestured with his chin towards the other end of the porch where Dipper and Mabel sat bickering in lawn chairs. Mabel had returned from her raccoon chase covered in twigs and holding a surprisingly docile raccoon. Dipper was leaning away from the pair while trying to convince Mabel to stop feeding it gummy worms before it developed a taste for human food and tried breaking into the Shack.

Ford's gaze drifted to the twins. "Alright," he relented. "But you still don't have to play Mabel's song."

Fiddleford bowed his head.

"Yet!" Ford offered. "Not yet. She'll understand I'm sure."

Fiddleford frowned, looking unconvinced.

"Of course not yet!" Stan interjected. "You can't go playing the grand finale right out of the gate! You gotta warm 'em up first, keep 'em wanting more." Stan slapped his hand on Fiddleford's back. "If you give 'em what they want right away, they won't come back! Hold that one off until tomorrow or...uh...next week. Tease it or something."

Stan had started rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand as he spoke, a tell Ford was quick to recognize. It was the same one he did when he would "begrudgingly" let Mabel choose the movie for movie night or let Dipper rope him into another game of Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons. Covering the most vulnerable part of his body while he let his emotions go soft.

Fiddleford seemed to perk up at Stan's words.

"Well," Fiddleford offered. "I do know some proper jugband music. Only, it don't have the same ring to it without a jug."

"We've got a jug!" Mabel cheered from the other side of the porch. It seemed the raccoon argument had reached enough of a truce that the twins were once again paying attention to the concert. "I used to keep pond water in it, it's in the kitchen!" She hopped off of her chair, lugging the racoon along with her like it was a rather expensive lap cat.

Dipper followed her. "Why did you have a jug of pond water?"

"Because, dummy, if I met a frog prince he would need something in the shack to remind him of home."

"Aren't you supposed to turn him into a person though?"

Whatever Mabel's retort was to be was cut off by the door swinging shut.

"There ya go," Stan grumbled. "You're getting your jug. Just in time too." He gestured toward the SUV. The mother was walking toward the Shack, one hand holding the baby, the other gripping tightly to the little boy's hand. The little boy gripped a few dollars in his fist, eyes alight with excitement.

Fiddleford looked frantic. "I can't sing and play the jug at the same time!" He gripped at his hat, pulling it down over his ears.

Ford sighed. "Then don't play the jug."

"It won't be the same!" Fiddleford shook his head. "A jugband without a jug that's...that's like a body with no heartbeat!"

The door swung open and Mabel emerged with an old ceramic jug.

"Here it is!" she exclaimed. "And it only sort of smells like pond scum."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Ford smiled gently. "It seems Fiddleford can't play both simultaneously."

Mabel frowned. "But it's a jugband. It's in the name!"

"How about we wait another day," Ford offered, patting Fiddleford awkwardly on the back. "Maybe someone in town will join you."

"Oh for Pete's sake, give it to me." Stan snatched the jug out Mabel's hand, sniffing at the top and giving a grimace.

Fiddleford stopped pulling at his hat, peeking out from under the brim. "You'll play?"

Stan grunted. "I'm not missing out on good money just because you have a case of the heebie jeebies. Besides, how hard can it be? It's like blowing on the top of a beer...er...I mean soda bottle."

Dipper crossed his arms. "Grunkle Stan, we know what beer is."

"Not from me you don't."

Mabel squealed. "It's happening! Grunkle Stan is learning an instrument!"

"It's not an instrument, Pumpkin. It's dishware."

"It's a scrapbookortunity!"

Mabel dashed into the house once more, leaving Dipper to grin at their Grunkle Stan.

The family was only a few yards away now. Fiddleford looked between Stan, Ford, and Dipper, and straightened up in his seat.

"Alright. Alright!" He clapped his hands together. "Stanley, you get down here with me, otherwise your feet are gonna get mighty sore from standing." He yanked at Stanley's hand until he sat beside the rocking chair with a grumble.

"Now when I tap my foot," Fiddleford instructed. "You blow on the jug. One short note at a time." Fiddleford tapped his foot in demonstration. "You got that?"

Stanley rolled his eyes. "Gee, I don't know. Seems pretty complicated for the guy without a PhD."

Mabel burst through the door, camera clutched in her hands. "Got it!"

"Excuse me?"

The little boy stood on the porch, approaching the banjo case with far more trepidation than before. Eyes darting between the assembly, he dropped a few dollars in the case.

"Is this enough to play a song?"

Fiddleford didn't bother looking at the money. He turned his gaze to Stanley, who shrugged and raised the jug to his lips.

Fiddleford grinned. "You know ‘Boodle Am Shake’?"

The little boy shook his head.

"Well you're about to!" And with that he was off.

By Fiddleford's standards, it wasn't a horribly complicated tune. Ford had heard him pluck out more complex riffs while waiting for the coffee pot in their dorm room to brew. But Fiddleford was smiling. His shoulders had dropped from around his ears, and he was nodding at the little boy to tap his feet along with him. Ford hid his smile behind his hands as he watched Stanley, eyes focused on Fiddleford's bare foot with as much attention as one would give to diffusing a bomb. Next to him, Mabel was snapping pictures of the pair. Dipper stood on his other side, wearing the small smile he tended to get when feeling introspective. Ford laid his hand on Dipper's shoulder, and Dipper leaned into the touch.

The mother was smiling at her little boy, her baby having finally stopped fussing. Maybe it wasn't the grand attraction Mabel had planned, but Ford thought it was worth far more than those few dollars anyway. Nothing could be worth more than his family standing around him, his closest friend singing again.

I know this song, it don't mean a doggone thing. Just do that good old Charleston swing. When you sing...

[j4gm]

SPOILERS!!! REFERENCES AND EASTER EGGS IN F&C ep. 1: FIONNA CAMPBELL

Here's a bunch of stuff I spotted. Feel free to add more.

During the anime girl hero dream Fionna mentions Hans Brinker, a character from a novel which introduced speed skating to the United States.

The BMO style alarm clock has BMO's voice.

The ducks that steal Marshall Lee's money look like one-headed versions of the two-headed duck from the original Adventure Time title sequence.

Cheers is a real sitcom. Simon previously sang its theme song in the episode Simon & Marcy, and now it seems to have manifested in the human AU due to his connection with it.

Fionna says "stop acting crazy" to Cake with the same meter as Marceline said "stop acting crazy" to Ice King in the episode I Remember You.

We all spotted this in the trailer but there's a Magic Man hat in this shot. Magic Man's hat was most recently seen being worn by Betty.

The Betty statue also suggests that Simon's psyche has significant influence over this world. The fountain includes frogs, a symbol of change that was previously also used in Temple of Mars. And Fionna mentions the statue underwent renovation twelve years ago, which is the same amount of time that's passed in the prime universe since Betty's amalgamation with GOLB.

It would seem Mrs. Abadeer runs a vacuum cleaner company as well as being Fionna's landlady. And Queenie runs an accounting business as well as the tour bus.

The stickers on Marshall Lee's guitar case are all references to real life punk rock bands. X-Ray Pex = X-Ray Spex, Daikini Kill = Bikini Kill, PM might be a reference to AM as in the Arctic Monkeys. I'm not sure what Las Crudas and Dark Eyes are references to. Perhaps someone more familiar with punk rock can let me know?

In case you were wondering, the credits confirm that this is human genderswapped Fern. It's a bit more obvious now that we can see all her green clothes and backpack, and given what she said about her dreams being super messed up. I'm not gonna go through the rest of the cameo characters in this episode because most of them are pretty obvious or already got figured out when the trailer dropped. That said, if anyone knows who the bus driver is meant to be please let me know.

The sword in the window of this games shop looks very similar to Fionna's sword from the original comic series.

The latte that Gumball - ahem I mean Gary - makes in this scene features PB's swan.

Okay one more cameo mention because I feel like it might become significant later. This is Ice Queen.

Fionna and Cake are dreaming about their apartment block in the credits of this episode, but it has a roof like the Tree Fort and the same little boat with a telescope and parasol.

Episode 2 to follow!

[aakeysmash]

Roommate or boss?

Pairing: f!reader x Katsuki Bakugou.

Warnings: a lot of yapping. Male masturbation. A bit of violence from Katsuki’s part when a guy tries getting in your pants.

Word count: this part is 2.4k, added to the others (part 1, part 2, part 3) it’s 8.9k.

Next part: part 5

"It's too hot" you mewl while lying on your couch. “Step back, it’s my turn to be in front of the fan” you add, getting up and walking towards Katsuki.

“Fuck no, it’s been 3 minutes since you had a go at it. Go back to the hell hole you came from, pest” your roommate answers while throwing daggers at you.

You poke your finger in his exposed bicep. He doesn’t budge. Damn, this man is hard as a rock.

“Come onnnnn! This is the time when you should be a gentleman and let me cool down my beautiful face. Do you really want to be such a brute, Mr. Bakugou?” you bat your eyelashes seductively, trying to convince him.

Bakugou stares at you like your face is green and you’re a slimy frog that just came out of a pile of mud.

“I don’t fucking care. You’re a big girl and I ain’t no prince charming. Step the fuck back or I’m throwing you on that damn sofa. Wait your shitty turn” he says, flicking your forehead.

You whine some more, whisper “bitch” (it gets you another flick) and then turn back to lay on the floor. It’s colder than the couch, at least.

It’s summer, there’s 41°C outside, and your AC broke the other day. It’s so hot that you take out the ice from the freezer and it melts in 4 minutes (max). You happened to have one old crusty fan, that you and Bakugou take turns using. You have been surviving on iced coffee and iced lemonades. You feel like you’re slowly dying.

“You know, this is the only time I really wish my boss would call me in early. He might be a ghost, but he sure uses money for the AC” you blabber while staring at the ceiling, contemplating booking a trip to Alaska.

“What do you mean a ghost?” the blond asks. He’s been much more talkative in the last few months, maybe because seeing you being so domestic was doing something to him. In the last few days he really wants to be your friend, but not because he’s suddenly nice: he thinks he could bribe you to gift him the fan if he’s kinder and breaks your defenses. He’s even planning on asking you to go to a cafe nearby and offer you one of those sweet fuzzy iced drinks you like so much. He’s scheming.

“A ghost because I’ve never seen his face. Can you believe that? My colleague says he’s an asshole though, so maybe that’s for the better” you answer. You get on your elbows to see him better, then squint and frown, “I feel like you could be my boss, you know. Seeing as you’re an asshole too, making me die here on the floor like a common drug addict”.

Yeah, screw the fan. He was asking you out to kill you.

“I hope he fires you”.

“Fuck you”.

“Likewise”.

You throw yourself back on the floor. The movement makes your boobs giggle, and he catches himself staring at your white tank top. You didn’t wear a bra since it’s indeed still your house and it’s indeed still hot as hell.

Things have been going so much better between you two. You now bicker like you’re siblings, but you do also take walks together sometimes, mainly to get groceries, and talk about stuff. You even convinced him to watch Keeping up with the Kardashians with you, and even if he doesn’t want to admit it, he likes the drama more than you.

At work you have a new manager and she’s super nice. Her name is Mina, and you found out that she and Kirishima are engaged, even if they’re 22 like you. She’s a great worker, and you’ve gone out for drinks a couple of times with her and Momo. She’s been at the cafe for 2 months, but you feel so much better already. She throws you weird looks sometimes, like she knows something you don’t, but you pay it no mind.

The timer on your phone rings, and you jump up before throwing your whole body on Katsuki’s. He’s distracted and you get him off guard, managing to move him away. He notices your tits touching his arm.

“Hah! My turn!” you say triumphantly, positioning yourself in front of the fan. The cold air makes your nipples harden. He seems to not be able to look away.

“Awh, Katsuki, cat got your tongue? Don’t worry, baby, the floor is not that bad” you snicker.

He snaps out of his trance and looks at your smirk. Baby? Did you just call him baby?

Fuck, what is he doing? The heat is getting to him. He hastily turns around and starts walking.

“Fuck off, I’m getting in the shower. You can have your fucking fan until I get out” he grunts while almost running away. He needs to have a cold shower.

“We’ll see!” you smile devilishly at him, not having noticed how he’s furiously blushing while slamming the bathroom door.

Katsuki puts his back on the door and slides to the floor. He rubs his face before staring at the obvious tent his semi is causing in his shorts.

Have you always been so hot?

He gets out of his clothes and jumps in the shower, hoping this feeling will go away once the scorching temperature of his skin gets back to normal. But after a few minutes the icy water does nothing to quell his desire, his fully standing cock a statement to that.

He curses under his breath, then wraps one of his hands on his shaft. He feels so dirty doing this, and the fact you’re one door away makes him feel even more embarrassed.

“Let’s get this fucking over with, fuck” he says to himself, pumping his member slowly.

He imagines the way your hand would feel instead of his, or your big eyes staring up at him like you did before, just that in this case you were forcing yourself not to cry while choking on his cock. His hand would be in your hair instead of on his dick, pushing your mouth snugly against his pubes. Your mouth would be hotter than the sun outside and he'd give you a reason to sweat. If you pleaded hard enough he'd fuck you too. He’d really throw you on the sofa, ripping your damn white top and sucking on your nipples. Fuck, what if you pierced them? Your tits would look so good covered in his-

He cums, grunting. "Fuck, this is the most embarrassing shit I've ever had to do to cum" he adds, whispering to himself.

He makes sure to scrub the shower wall clean before putting on the pair of grey short sweatpants he was wearing before. He decides on not to put his black compression tee on, since it’s drenched in sweat.

He exits the bathroom and finds you lying on the couch with the fan blowing directly on your face. Your eyes are closed, and the peaceful expression you're wearing makes his dick throb again.

"Oi, wanna go out? We're short on ice" he finds himself saying.

You open one eye, but when you realize he's half naked you hastily close it and throw him the pillow you were resting your head on.

"When has this become a whore house?" you scream.

He rolls his eyes. "You're such a prude. It's not like you've never seen a man naked" he scoffs, while throwing the pillow back at you.

You open your eyes again and glare at him. You know you must be as red as a tomato.

He looks so good with his hair still dripping wet. You've known that he works out, but now that you see his torso this close and with so little covering his whole body, you find yourself feeling shy. There's a particular drop of water that cascades just in the middle of his pecs, and you follow it with your eyes until it reaches his belly button.

"Earth to y/n. I know I'm hot, but stop ogling and answer my fucking question" your roommate says smirking, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

You throw the same pillow you threw before right on his smiling face. "I'm coming if you're not gonna be naked!" you say, hastily going towards your room.

"But wouldn't you like it, baby?" he mocks the tone you've used with him just 30 minutes ago.

"Fuck you. I'll be there in 10" you respond, slamming your bedroom door, feeling hot and bothered.

It must be the summer.

You and Katsuki go to a store nearby to get ice.

“When is the landlord gonna repair the AC?” you ask, since he was the one to make the call.

“He said he’ll come next week, probably even the next one. Said he’s on vacay or some shit” he grunts from next to you.

“I can’t survive 2 weeks like this” you whine. “Oh, you know those noodles you did the other day? The spicy ones? Want to make them for dinner today?” you change the topic, looking up at him.

He spares you a glance before smirking and saying “you just said you’re dying, you sure you wanna eat spicy things?”.

“It doesn’t matter, that’s not the question” you say, pouting.

He smirks again. “Sure. Go and take the noodles, I’ll get the vegetables. Call me when you’re finished if you can’t come back here, I know you get lost like a dumbass”.

You slap his arm. “I do not! This place is just big, asshole”. Then you turn around and march straight towards… the wrong aisle. Katsuki shakes his head. You’ll find a way. You always do, somehow.

After 10 minutes you’re still not back and you still haven’t called, so he sighs and gets his phone out.

He missed your texts from 3 minutes ago.

Y/N: Help

Y/N: I feel like a guy is following me

Y/N: I’m next to some spicy sauces, I guess

Y/N: Mom come pick me up, I’m scared

He raises an eyebrow. You’re usually too prideful to text him when you don’t find the ingredients he tells you to search for, so this situation is weird. He tries to remember where the spicy sauces are, and goes for that aisle.

Meanwhile, you were right and a creepy guy was indeed following you. He’s slim, not that tall and looks like a predator. For the past couple of minutes he’s obviously been trying to get in your pants, and you don’t know how to remove yourself from the situation.

“Come on, just give me your number. You got a boyfriend? Is this why you’re being so… spicy?” he says with a low tone of voice, walking towards you and effectively blocking you from the eyes of the people who are walking down your aisle. From outside, he just seems like he’s talking to you.

“I said I’m not interested” you repeat for what feels like the 10th time. Then you decide to lie: “and yes, I do have a boyfriend. He gets crazy when he’s jealous, I wouldn’t want to anger him if I were you”. You hope you sound confident enough.

“Awh he doesn’t have to now, baby girl. It can be our dirty little secret… I love spicy little things like you” he says seductively, touching your arm and licking his lips.

You’re just about to raise your elbow high enough to break his nose when you feel a familiar voice behind you.

“Step the fuck back before I break your fucking hand” Katsuki says to the man in front of you.

You snap your gaze to his eyes, but he’s looking at the guy with a murderous intent.

The slimy guy in front of you doesn’t let go, in fact he just strengthens the hold he has on your arm and you wince. Katsuki notices this.

The guy is definitely intimidated, but still manages to say “mind your business bro, we’re together, this is my bitch-“. But before he can finish the sentence he finds himself crashing on the sauces of the aisle.

“I said step the fuck back. I don’t like to repeat myself. Don’t ever call my girlfriend your bitch again, or next time I’m breaking your damn nose“ your roommate says while putting a hand on your small back.

He then looks down at you, and while he’s looking deep into your eyes, tells you “you good, baby?”.

You nod. You feel your knees shaking, but not because of the guy who’s currently on the floor.

Which, by the way, is now scoffing and declaring “oh so this is your crazy boyfriend? Nobody likes good guys anymore, huh”. He then stands up, adding “you were never pretty enough for me, anyway”.

Katsuki looks at him and suddenly he laughs. “You’re a pathetic ass bitch if you really believe someone like you could ever be near someone like her. You’re not a good guy, you’re an awful piece of shit who only tries to get his dick wet by forcing girls to have sex with him, and you’re obviously failing at that too. Go back to your room and rub one out on some shitty porn like you always do, fucker” he spits out. “You have 5 seconds to get out of my fucking face”.

The asshole thinks he’s joking, so he doesn’t move from his spot, but Katsuki is obviously not playing. He looks super scary, and he’s towering over the pathetic boy.

Katsuki is losing his patience. “5, 4, 3…”.

The guy gets that he’s serious and flees the scene, running with his tail between his legs.

Your roommate takes a big breath before mumbling “I hate people”. You snicker, before looking up at him. “Thank you, you know” you say smiling.

Your gratefulness blinds him, or maybe it’s just that you’re that pretty.

“You’re welcome”.

He doesn’t remove his hand from your back for the rest of your walk, and it feels so natural to be so close to him that you don’t say anything.

A/N: If you want to be put in the taglist make sure your age is visible on your blog first, and then tell me so in the comments <3

[kaaaaaaarf]

fic first lines

thanks for the tags, @lifeisabitch-butimcute, @messrsrarchives, @lavenderhaze, @chericheribaby, @rae-lune & @pain-in-the-riri! 💖

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don't be shy and share anyway!

I have a lot of fics, so I'm gonna pick and choose a few. These are all wolfstar:

Only Get (My Rocks) Off - naughty enemy neighbours, E - They say that every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings. Every time Remus has to listen to his neighbour’s fucking drainpipe clink against the side of the house, he gets a migraine and a hard-on. 

The Killing Time (unwillingly mine) - murder husbands, E - Did Remus expect to be here tonight? No, he had things to do. He was supposed to call his mother and go to the dentist, maybe grab a sauvignon to go with dinner. He certainly wasn't meant to be digging a grave in the back corner of the city cemetery at 2am. 

back when we were dinosaurs - museum fic, E - Remus has been coming to the museum since he was a boy. Since before all the renovations—before the Crystal. Back when the main entrance was off of University Avenue and the dinosaurs were huge, terrifying behemoths. 

they call it the cockpit - airport smut, E - Sirius is exhausted (he will later blame everything that happens that morning on this singular fact).

i'm green, you're green - Frog & Toad adaptation, G - Once upon a time, not too long ago, there lived a Frog called Sirius and a Toad called Remus.

Here I Am (a rabbit-hearted boy) - wererabbit Remus, G - Remus' floppy ears twitch unhappily. He had been so careful—so careful not to let his friends see the monster he becomes every full moon.

In ár gCroíthe go deo - Irish Remus, T - A little boy with ruddy, freckled cheeks and flaming red hair goes running down a wide country lane on unsteady feet.

You Grew Tall (I Stayed The Same) - Hogwarts era, G - It was house picture day at Hogwarts, and the students were all milling around the courtyard, waiting to be called into The Great Hall. 

Ah-Ooh (werewolves of London) - Hogwarts era pre-full moon, T - Remus' hip is aching. It’s t-minus forty-five minutes until moon-rise and he doesn't think there is a single part of him that doesn't hurt. 

Now I'm Spreading Your Legs (with my in between) - original hatefuck fic, E - James: Okay, Mr Mysterious, I just saw your cryptic post on tumblr. Who's the hot asshole musician you met ??? That's my type. Sirius: Ok Listen James: …uh oh

np tagging: @fruityindividual, @swifty-fox, @lynxindisguise, @shoopsthereitis, @notyournecromancer, @wannabelilybriscoe, @languagelessonswolfstar, @c0ffinrehearsal, @pissmotif & @persepinas

[quirekey]

I love your writing so much! Can I request how heatwave would react to his little human gf when she gets the chance to babysit Cece for the Greene’s and she’s literally like a mom? Even the Burns would be surprised at how good reader is acting with little Cece. Kade would fs tease heatwave as well, saying something like, “she’s loves kids, heatwave. Take notes on that.”

We all know that heatwave secretly loved robo baby in that one episode, and I feel like he feels the same for cece ngl.

Sorry if this seems too descriptive 😞 tysm tho!💛

AWWW THIS IS SO CUTE!! I’m so sorry for coming late, Christmas and stuff! I’m so glad I can write freely now. I’ll do a small introduction as an apology for my late answer >:]

(ALSO TYSMMM GAH)

[ HEATWAVE ] x [ FEMME!READER ]

[ heatwave x human!femme!motherlike!reader ]

INTRODUCTION

You were first introduced to the Rescue Bots due to Kade’s trust in you. You both were really good friends and you somehow had the tolerance to stand Kade on a daily basis. Kade with his loud mouth slipped and told you about the Rescue Bots, Heatwave specifically. Because of this, you met the Rescue Bots and got to know them on a personal level.

Months pass and seemingly Heatwave has been pushing Kade away, bringing himself to be with you more often. You saw him as a gentle soul and he appreciated that. After a while, the little love confessions happen and you both got together. (let’s say he confessed first, bluntly)

Ever since then, you both were lovers. Unfortunately you did not have any training in the field and only knew some medical procedures, so you stayed behind or went with Chief in-case of emergencies or injured civilians.

Mr. Greene trusted you a lot due to your kind and trusting nature, so overtime, he wanted to adjust you to Cece, his daughter. You adored her so when you got to babysit her, it was definitely a fun time for you. That day was a quiet one, so you and Heatwave decided to take care of Cece during the time you guys have together.

HEADCANONS

- When you brought Cece to the department while Cece slept in your arms, the Rescue Bots were definitely surprised. Boulder was the most happy with her appearance due to a past emergency where he was her little frog-plush (something that you can never get over). Chase and Blades didn’t mind too much, but Heatwave did.

- Heatwave was not fond of Cece. Having a fragile baby near massive sentient robots doesn't seem safe, but you assured Heatwave that you can keep her safe.

- You tried to get Heatwave to get along with Cece, constantly getting him to help you take care of her. You even got him to hold Cece, in your vision of course.

- After a while, you picked up Heatwave’s true feelings about little and young sentients (or technically babies). He seemed to be pretty comfortable and fond of them, he seems to be more relaxed with the knowledge that he’s taking care of such a fragile being. You think that he thinks that Cece is pretty wholesome, annoying but fun.

- Cece really likes Heatwave. It’s common that babies enjoy those ‘hard to get’ types of people, knowing deep down that they still care. You saw this so you got Cece to hang around with Heatwave more often than you, and they got along pretty well. Heatwave was too afraid to hurt her so he didn’t do much, trying to make it look like he doesn’t care when he really does.

- You do all of the chores when it comes to taking care of Cece. Changing her nappy, feeding her and bathing her. Heatwave does the comforting and rocking her to bed type of chore. Though you could easily do that yourself, the sight of Heatwave being a parental figure always warmed your heart.

- Though he’s afraid to admit it, Heatwave does get jealous of Cece. Though it’s an absolutely embarrassing secret, when Cece is around, she takes all of your attention away from him. He doesn’t care but the bitter jealousy does linger over him when you are babysitting Cece.

- You enjoy getting Heatwave to turn into a firetruck and driving you and Cece around. Cece giggling and looking outside the window is an adorable sight and Heatwave is way slower and careful when you guys do this. Doing this does help Cece sleep too. Being rocked in a Fire Truck while you told her a story is luxury in her eyes.

- I do agree, Kade does make fun of Heatwave for this A LOT. When Heatwave is helping Cece fall to sleep by telling her a story he was told in Cybertron, Kade always poke fun. He’s usually teasing and snickering at the sight, saying how much of a softie Heatwave really is. All Heatwave could do is keep rocking Cece and ignore Kade’s antics. (Or Heatwave would just tell him to shut up.)

- You gained a deeper understanding of your lover when Chase told you about the time when the Rescue Bots were assigned to take care of Robo-baby. Chase thought it’d be important to mention that Heatwave does enjoy the company of babies and that you can trust him with one. Not like you did before but it was nice to have some reassurance.

[pigeon-pit]

~*PIGEON PIT FALL 2024 DATES*~

hey y’all! we’re really stoked to be hitting the road again this fall and play east coast shows for the first time in a long time. come hang out, we’ll be playing new songs, old songs, whatever songs we feel like and have some brand new merch for sale too. we got some really special shows on here! Will update bands and ticket links as time goes on but for the most part shows are pay at the door and all ages! <3

10/14 in Minneapolis, MN at The Artery w/ Erica Lyle & Mold Wine

10/15 in Chicago, IL at Pilsen Community Books w/ Sunday Cruise

10/16 in Indianapolis, IN at Longshot w/ Looter & Passerine

10/17 in Pittsburgh, PA at Mr Roboto Project w/ Frog Legs, No Jane, Cacklin Racket & Rayne Blakeman (https://dltsgdom.ticketleap.com/pigeon-pit-roboto/)

10/18 in Akron, PA at House of Jenk w/ Local News Legend, Joyful Forfeit & Erin Incoherent

10/20 in Brattleboro, VT at Buoyant Heart w/ Harm, Leaf Glitter & Kivimae

10/21 in Brooklyn, NY at Trans Pecos w/ Choked Up & precious human (https://www.venuepilot.co/events/114396/orders/new)

10/23 in Philadelphia, PA at Foto Club w/ Paper Bee & Ezra Cohen (https://dice.fm/partner/4333-collective/event/dk59l6-pigeon-pit-paper-bee-ezra-cohen-23rd-oct-foto-club-philadelphia-tickets )

10/24 in Richmond, VA at Crescent Club w/ Flora and the Fauna and Shotgun Princess

10/26 in Gainesville, FL at Roadhouse w/ Mechanical Canine, Heavy Lag, Shift Meal & the Alleged Band

10/27 in Gainesville, FL - FEST - at Vivid Music Hall w/ Chuck Ragan and the Camaraderie, Tim Barry, Brendan Kelly, Walter Mitty and his MAkeshift Orchestra & Apes of the State (https://www.seetickets.us/event/Vivid-Music-Hall-CHUCK-RAGAN-TIM-BARRY-BRENDAN-KELLY/610483) (18+)

10/28 in Atlanta, GA at Wallers Coffee w/ Dakota Floyd, Official Bard of Baldwin County & Ozello (https://pigeonpitwallers.bpt.me/)

10/29 in Pensacola FL at the 309 Project w/ the Taints & TBA

10/30 in New Orleans, LA at SASS w/ Twisted Teens & TACK (4011 St Claude)

11/1 in Little Rock, AR at River City Coffee w/ TBA

11/2 in Kansas City, MO at Howdy w/ Small Void & TBA

11/4 in Denver, CO at 7th Circle Music Collective w/ Fables of the Fall, Marissa. & Darling Driftwood

[cookinguptales]

I want to do it, too, this looks fun

*consensually given in the form of an omamori from Dainichibou Temple in Yamagata, Japan. it contains a scrap of clothing from the sokushinbutsu who resides there, a monk who attained enlightenment during life through self-mummification.

(please do not google if squeamish.)

[pizzatowerhcs]

Some of my headcanons for the character's favorite music: (I hope this counts)

Peppino: Old rock music

The Noise: Breakcore and maybe rap

Gustavo: Classical music

Brick: Any type of music as long as it talks about cheese

Mr Stick: Corporate ad music

Pepperman: Lofi beats to study to (He'd listen to them while making art, he'd also listen to 10 hour long video essays about Spongebob)

Fake Peppino: Frog sounds

Maurice: Country, sometimes rap but only artists like tom mcdonald

Pizzahead: Jazz

Noisette: Pop (Specifically Taylor Swift, Sabrina Carpenter, that kinda thing)

Vigilante: Country music

YESYEYSYESTEYHE I LOVE MUSIC HCS

[impalaimagining]

Does It Make A Sound?

Word Count: 2,413

Warnings: mentions of psych ward/unstable behavior

A/N: written for @jacklesversebingo and because of a random prompt they dropped in the discord this morning. Prompt at the bottom to avoid spoilers.

Square filled: small town setting

You’re seven years old, your mother kneels in the garden, a flowered foam board beneath her, failing at its job to protect her knees from the sharp rocks in the dirt. As you roam the flower beds beside her, a loud bumblebee catches your attention and you follow it into the open yard. It buzzes, winding its way around the grass and into the treeline at the back of the property. There should be a fence there, separating you from the densely wooded area, but the wooden pickets crumbled under the fallen branches of last winter’s storm. It’s impossible, almost, to see into the thick tangle of branches, even as far down as your eye level. The forest isn’t exactly scary - it’s just dark.

And… loud.

The only sound you heard in the yard was the bee, but standing next to the trees, it’s like another world coming alive within the leaves. The birds chirp, the bugs chitter and skirt across the cold ground, and there’s even a frog bellowing from the creek burbling nearby. But that’s not what really draws you in.

That day - the day you innocently wandered through the grass, following the path of an unknowing bumblebee - is the first day you hear the voices. 

On your ninth birthday, you invite all of the friends from your class to come to your house. Your mother promises you a pink and purple cake, just like the one in the bakery’s catalog, and though she usually doesn’t come through on her promises, on this one, she delivers. A small, two-tiered pastry sits on your kitchen counter as your classmates filter through from the front door into the backyard. 

Your father has repaired the fence since the day you meandered into the forest, your mother’s fearful scream at her realization of your absence prompting him to leave immediately for the hardware store in town.

Still, despite the barrier, you’re drawn to the woods. The voices beckon to you every time you enter the backyard. You want to dive into the thick boughs of the pine trees and follow the sounds of children guiding you to play with them. But you can’t; you’re confined to the safety of the yard. Quite literally, fenced in.

Your friends run and play behind you, delighted squeals coming from the girls while the boys chase them. But you don’t care. You don’t want that. You want the forest. The voices want you in the forest.

Sixteen. Your first time driving a car, your first love, your first heartbreak.

He kissed your best friend behind the snack stand at the Friday night football game while you were buying him fries. 

You run, but not into the house, not through the house, around the house. Around the fence. You run past Mr. Walter Smith’s clothesline, past his shed full of landscaping equipment. You breach the treeline, and suddenly, your crying subsides. Your sobs turn into deep, calming breaths as you inhale and exhale the new air around you.

You’re in the forest.

The voices surround you. You feel them, like whispered words from a lover, ghosting across your skin. Goosebumps rise in the wake of the breeze caressing you. You’re alone, but despite the way your heart shattered at the sight of your ex-boyfriend and your best friend, you’re certainly not lonely inside the darkness of the woods. 

You’re finally inside, and you’re silent, barely allowing yourself to breathe too loudly. The forest has a heartbeat, a pulse, breath flowing through it. You���ve never felt more alive. The forest is alive, though you see no signs of life. No birds flying, no bugs crawling, no deer or squirrels or mice. There’s nothing, but there’s everything. 

Your mother’s voice permeates the dense foliage, but you barely hear it. You don’t care, don’t give even a second thought to her screams as she calls out for you. Closing your eyes, you let the forest overtake you. Your arms feel like branches, your legs press together and become a solid tree trunk, your hair bristles like the leaves. 

Faintly, distantly, you’re aware of nails clawing at your arm, then your shoulders, and suddenly you’re shaking. Your mother’s shrill voice racks you, drawing you out of your daze. She raises her hand just as you come to, and you know if you hadn’t awoken when you did, her next move was to slap you across your face. 

But deep in your heart, and maybe because of the whispers still ringing in your ears, you know that wouldn’t have happened. The forest sent you back to her before she had the chance. The forest protected you.

It’s the autumn after your twenty-eighth birthday, and you’re packing up boxes, taping across the seams at the top, and stacking them beside to your apartment door.

“Felix…” You warn your tuxedo cat. “Don’t even think about it.” The boxes are stacked precariously, and he’s known for his uncanny ability to find the weak spot in every piece of cardboard he’s ever met. 

He’s a rescue, and a bit of an asshole, but he won you over with his big green eyes the minute you saw him at the pet shop. He heeds your warning, instead stalking toward you and climbing into the hole in your lap where your criss-cross-applesauce position leaves a void. You rest your palm on his head and let him nuzzle against your hand.

“You ready to go, buddy?” You coo at him, and he purrs, like he approves of the entire uprooting of your life. “That makes one of us.”

A shaky hand hovers above the doorknob; you’re hesitant to go inside. You’ve not been back since your father died and they sent your mother to her permanent inpatient stay at a psychiatric facility. Thankfully, you were eighteen at the time and no one had to be your keeper. So you picked up and moved halfway across the country under the guise of just being a normal high school graduate going to college.

It’s late, and you’re grateful that you thought to call and have the town’s handyman install a motion light on the front porch. Already fumbling with Felix’s carrier, you don’t have a spare hand to hold your phone for a flashlight along with finding the right key for the front door.

Once you reach the door and flip through four keys before settling on the correct one, you shove the old wood with your hip and it creaks open, like it’s reluctant to let you back inside. Tossing your keys onto the table beside the door, you run your hand along the wall for the light switch. When you find it, the yellow glow of the globe light on the ceiling illuminates the room. A shiver runs up your spine. 

Nothing has changed.

The walls are still the same weird shade of pink, floral wallpaper trim wrapping around the entirety of the room along the top of every wall. The plaid couches, somehow also floral - what was with your mother and flowers? - sit dusty, in the same place they’ve been for two decades. You set down the cat carrier and puff out a breath as you look around.

You eventually empty your hard-side cooler into the fridge, having packed the bare minimum to make it through the weekend before you have to travel into town and grocery shop. Heaving your bags up the steps, you haphazardly throw them into your childhood bedroom and shudder as the dolls in the corner catch your eye. Your mother allowed you to change a few things as you aged out of dolls, but according to her, they were a family heirloom, so you were required to keep them perched somewhere in your room. As if a seventeen-year-old girl cares about a family heirloom. 

You decide the boxes of dishes, countertop appliances, pantry-type food, can wait until the daylight eases your mind tomorrow. You strip the old sheets off your twin-size bed and replace them with the new set you purchased at Target before civilization dwindled to practically nothing as you neared your hometown. Topping the bed off with your favorite throw blanket, you settle in for the night, Felix wrapped around himself in the crook of your knees. Your eyes find the window, illuminated by the light of the almost-full moon. Even from the comfort of your bed, you see the treetops silhouetted against the night sky. The forest is waiting for you.

You stand on the crumbling bricks just outside the door, closing your eyes as the morning sun threatens to take the chill from the air. Swallowing after a slow sip of coffee, you inhale deeply through your nose. There’s something about the smell, the trees and the fallen, dead leaves, the dirt you know is crawling with the same earthworms you used to dig up before going fishing with Mr. Walter Smith from next door. It all swirls and combines as you take your deep breath in, and all at once you’re hit with the smell of home.

You realize then that you’ve left the brick patio, like your feet have moved without your approval. You’re standing at the fence, two decades old and still standing just as strong as the day it was built, which has you giving silent kudos to your father’s craftsmanship. Clutching the porcelain mug between your palms, you glance up. The trees have grown, somehow now even more looming and paralyzing than they were when you yourself were two feet shorter. 

After looking at the trees for what seems like an eternity, you gasp. You’re standing in the exact same spot you stood on that first day, where the sounds of the forest pulled you in and hooked their claws into you, keeping you addicted to knowing what truly lay beyond the boundaries of your yard.

That day, the voices swirled - the whispers, the quiet giggling, the gentle caress of someone beckoning you in, a soft “come here” lingering in your ear. Today, standing where your feet have stood countless times before, you’re nauseous. Something is very, very wrong.

It’s silent.

In the new, eerie quiet, you hear footsteps approach to your right, crunching against the dead, brown grass, littered with yellowed leaves. The hair on the back of your neck stand at attention, goosebumps prickling the skin of your arms. Letting out a shaky, almost silent breath, you shift your weight and spin on your heel, throwing a punch in the direction of the-

“Whoa, easy!” His voice booms with a chuckle as he catches your fist in his palm. “Okay, noted. Don’t sneak up on the new neighbor.”

His words hit you. New neighbor.

He has no idea the history of this house, these woods, you. 

You wrench your hand out of his grasp and pull it back to your side.

“Who are you?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“Moved in a couple years ago. I thought they were talkin’ about tearing this place down.” He nods in the direction of the house - your house.

“They - they were.” You swallow hard at the thought of losing the only real home you’ve ever known. “That’s why I came back.”

He draws back, brows furrowed. “Came back?”

“This is my house.” You glance at the back door. “I grew up here.”

His eyes follow your gaze to the window on the second floor - your childhood bedroom. When he brings his stare back to meet yours, he finds your eyes filled with unshed tears. Clearing his throat, he brings you back to reality.

“Sorry.” You wipe hastily at your eyes and shake off your emotions. “Um, anyway, you said you moved in? Moved in where exactly?”

He points to the house next door, to the Smith’s house, which you only now realize has been repainted, the shutters now a sage green while the house itself is a dusty shade of gray, all the trim and accents painted dark green. It’s beautiful, and you take a second to let it sink in that the house almost perfectly matches the colors of the forest.

The silent forest.

“Have they been doing any construction around here?” You can’t help but ask. Maybe they’re cutting down trees, disturbing whatever - whoever - lives in the forest. Maybe the voices are hiding.

Your neighbor shakes his head and frowns. “Not that I know of, and in a town this small-”

“Everybody knows everything.” You both finish the sentence in unison.

“You must’ve met Marge.” You let yourself smile fondly at the memory of Marge Wilson.

“How do you live here without meeting Marge?” He laughs.

“Man, she’s gotta be… ninety now?” Your eyes widen.

“Eighty-seven last week, actually. And still at the diner every morning.” His smile seems warm as he thinks of the sweet old lady who can’t manage to keep her nose out of anyone’s business, and always knows everything going on in Milford. 

Milford, where almost nothing has changed since you left a decade ago. Nothing except the brewery on Main Street, next door to a Starbucks. Nothing except the tattoo shops boasting fine line artwork instead of heavy-handed barbed wire tattoos. Nothing except the new neighbor mowing Mr. Walter Smith’s lawn. Nothing except everything about you. Nothing except the voices.

“Did it look like they were bringing machines in?” He breaks your train of thought, referring back to your question about construction. 

“No, no. Nothing like that.” You shake your head. “Forget it.”

He shrugs. “Well, anyway. It was nice meeting you. Just wanted to check in and make sure you were okay. I thought I heard glass break while I was on my way out.” His eyes fall to the shattered mug at your feet. 

“Oh, uh. Yeah, I’m good.” Your gaze darts to the treeline.

“Something in there?” He quirks a brow and chills leach through your body.

“N- no.” You stammer.

“Not anymore.” His tone is stern, knowing, and you can physically feel the blood drain from your face. You turn to look at him. He gives you a single nod, finally extending his arm to shake your hand, and it washes over you that you’re about to get a lot more than you asked for by moving back here.

“I’ve got some coffee on, c’mon over.” He nods toward the green house. “I think you’ve got a bit to catch up on.” Your hand, again shaking, reaches out and finds purchase in his grasp. “Name’s Dean.”

Prompt - You’ve gotten used to the voices you hear in the forest near your house. You’ve grown up with them. One day, however, there is only silence.

Feedback?

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[sunny-mercya]

Sickly Summer

Bonten x Male Baby Reader

Masterlist

Inspired by the many Stories @reallyromealone had done! Go and check his Blog out!

Mochi had you in his arms, carrying you through the living—back and forth, swaying in gentle manner from side to side—in hopes of, finally, calming you down.

Never did Mochi thought, that you, their little precious baby boy, could cry so much during one night and throughout the day. He knows babies do cry, a lot even sometimes, but this? This seemed way too out of place to be called normal behaviour.

Then again, you weren't feeling all that healthy well right now and your only way of telling them this, was through bawling.

«Here. Maybe a lukewarm bottle of Milk will soothe him a bit, till Rinny find his pacifier and plushy.» suggest Ran, emerging out from the Kitchen, holding the bottle to you. You scrunched your face up in disgust, before burying it back in Mochi's neck.

«Huh, I think so too, bud. Papa Ran surely doesn't wanna have a repeat of last time.» emphasised Mochi, going back to rocking you into soothing as soon as he heard your sniffles again.

Ran shrugged his shoulders in defeat. He doesn't know what to do either. Mochi was right though, neither Ran nor the others would like to have a repeat of what happen 2 weeks ago.

~~~

Bonten knew you had a very sensitive stomach, couldn't handle most, if not even all, foods and drinks. You got a special Diet plan, but even then it could happen that your stomach would go into a cramping strike.

Like how it happen two weeks ago; You had Semolina porridge for dinner, something you would eat most of the time since it was stomach friendly enough. Either it was Takeomi himself or one of them, who might have accidentally poured a bit too much sugar or any kind of spices in it, but it was a literally shit night after dinner.

Kakucho had changed your diapers about three times, till he decided to just stay with you in the bathroom throughout the whole night, as you shitted into a tiny bucket and if you weren't doing that, you would vomit till dry-heaving. Worst case of Diahrrea.

Takeomi was trying to get some fluids into you again, coaxing with mostly water and diluted milk, knowing well from his own experience with his siblings, that fluids are essentially necessary during such a time. Tough case it was though, you refused every time and had enough strength left to slap Takeomi's cup offering away.

Ever since then, they did good monitoring over your diet plan and what you eat.

~~~

Rindou came hopping into the living room, a big smile on his face as he triumphal hold up the pacifier. I mean, you had a whole box of them and your dads keep extra ones in the storage and to lose them is rather easy, but you had certain favourite ones and in times like these you only want them.

«Lookie lookie, [Name]! What Papa Rin has for you,» Rindou gently put the pacifier into your mouth—which seemed to sooth you right away as you sucked on it—taking you from Mochi's arms and prepped your face with kisses.

A slight frown came over Rindous face. Sitting himself on the couch, you on his lap, he take good glance at your chubby face.

Cheeks flushed red, eyes swollen and still brimmed with left over tears. Your tiny chest heaving heavily, you weakly gripping his shirt.

«Did you two shitlings make him cry more?» Rindou give a slight glare at them, almost accusing.

«No we didn't, asshat. If you couldn't tell already, our darling baby isn't feeling goodie.»

«Thanks, Mr. Obvious. For telling me.»

«Be glad Mikey and Kakucho aren't here or you two would have to put 20Yen into the swear-jar.» Kokonoi's amusing chuckling brought the Haitani Brothers out of their word squabbling. They hadn't heard that Kokonoi has come in.

The three watched how Kokonoi put some bags down onto the coffee table. Rummaging through them, Kokonoi pulled out a small stuffed frog and one of those squeeze balls.

As soon as you notice what one of your dads had in his hands, your eyes lit up and made grabby hands towards him. Koko give it to you.

«Is he getting better? Did you gave him something to drink already?»

«To both of your questions, Koko, is the answer no.» Rindou and Ran said it at the same time.

Mochi sighed, having make a cup of coffee for himself. One of the strong types, which a shot of Vodka in it. Mochi loved you, but parenting was exhausting sometimes and they all could agree to this.

~~~

It didn't take long till the rest, besides Mikey who was still in the office and probably doing some last minute paperwork's, had come home too.

You sat on the ground, in front of the TV—Ran had put on some child friendly cartoons, but you didn't pay attention to it—playing with toys, your new stuffed friend sitting between your legs.

Kakucho and Rindou sitting besides you, being your play buddies. Glaring every so often at the others, who sat on the couch and giving playful comments about how good parent they are. It was mostly Sanzu and Ran who did.

«I was by the doctor and he said it's probably the summer heat, which makes [Name] so sick right now. We should try to keep him cool and give him light foods only.» told Takeomi, crouching down to you with a Sippy-cup in his hand.

A pocky stick hanging from his mouth, a replacement of a cigarette as Takeomi wasn't one to smoke around you. He offered you the cup, filled with milk. You took it, taking a few sips from it and give it back to your Papa, who pinched the bridge of his nose.

«At least [Name] didn't refused it right away and did drank some of it.» comment Mochi, going back to reading his newspapers.

Takeomi was concerned about you. Last summer you were fine, you hadn't any problem with the heat. So seeing you refusing food and drinks, crying through night and night and not even going potty in your diapers at all, did raise red flags of concern for Takeomi.

They really need to bring you to the doctor, but you're a fussy child and just being at the front door, brought you to tears—which raise another set of questions for Takeomi.

When Mikey had come back home, he ignored the mess of toys and stuffed animals in the living room. Too tried to care about tidiness, non of them were the best when it comes to do household chores, but for you they try to do.

After changing into nightwear, which consisted of only a pair of underwear and a oversized shirt, Mikey was making his towards Kakucho room, knowing well that you're in there. You might have your own room, crib, to sleep in, but you never do, preferring to sleep in the beds of your many dads.

Mikey pried you gently from Kakucho's arms, ignoring his incoherent mumbling and going into his own room.

Laying down onto his bed, god was Mikey exhausted, he hold you close. Giving you a small kiss to the head, shushing you back into sleep, when you begun to stir and lowly whine.

Mikey and the others would do anything to keep you loved and safe. You're Bontens heir, the ray of sunshine in their dark lives and the only family they still had left.

[indigovigilance]

indigovigilance meta index

blue marks my must-reads for meta theory, bold are recommended just for fun/feels/fanfaves

A Nightingale Sang in 1941 Maggie is Possessed Aziraphale, Nina, and Identity Miracles Don't Work Like That I’m honestly very glad that they went with two middle-aged men. Baraqiel and Azazel Lament of the Metatron The Erasure of Human!Metatron Jimbriel, Satan, the Book of Life, and what it means for Crowley Angel Pinky Rings Before the Beginning is Doctored Aziraphale Knew that Crowley was Living in his Car When They Became Their Own Side Falling Up: Jimbriel, Satan, the Book of Life, and what it means for Crowley pt2 Every single minisode is Aziraphale's memory, and why that's [not?] important It will be a line, but not between the two of them. Why Aziraphale Wears Reading Glasses Homoerotic Pistols at Dawn (a conversation with @queerfables) Tarot Symbolism in 1941 Why Crowley Rescues Aziraphale Honolulu Roast: the story of a coup One more note on Time Muriel is a Paralegal, and Crowley is going to need her help Aziraphale punches Jesus in the face

Sovereignty, Citizenship, and the Bookshop Why Crowley is "blind" to his Yellow Eyes Bildad the Shuite in Edinburgh Their Canon First Date Sodom and Gomorrah: A Speculative Meta Anthony, Anthony, Anthony The Final Fifteen is about Terry Pratchett's Death Neil Gaiman's 3 Cameos Mr. Brown Comforting Crowley Continuity Errors Book of Job - gamma-edit of @sensitivesiren Closeness They won't get married The Astrologer that Fell into a Well Why Crawley renames himself Crowley The Hornet in the Beehive The Child in S2E5 What's Up with Maggie Aziraphale, Kermit the Frog, and Fraggle Rock Season 2 Episode 6 ruined me Snake Vision Miraculous Energy Did God Forgive Aziraphale about the Sword? Restoring Angel!Crowley was Aziraraphale's Hope for 2,000 Years What Will Make Aziraphale Snap Aziraphale will go looking for people in Heaven Reusing the Cast Crowley's Dream Bullet Theory

You can also subscribe to my meta series on Ao3 to have new metas sent directly to your inbox, if you like.

~

General Post Index: contains links to others' meta and add'l resources

Support the community, read voraciously!

[thisismeracing]

Screw him | MS47 (Patreon Exclusive)

read the full piece here

― Pairing: Mechanic!mick x reader (she/her) ― Warning: +18! mentions of alcohol, food, and cheating; graphic description of sex (fingering, handjob, public sex, and choking); dom!ms47; 5k words. ― Summary: When you move to a different neighborhood and discover your hot neighbor is a mechanic, half of your problems evolving your old car are solved. Your issues with your current boyfriend aren’t though. You too need a fix, and Mick may be the perfect guy for it.

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preview

The first thing that called your attention to the next-door neighbor the second you stepped out of the car were the chords of Californication – at least it’s good music, you thought. The second thing was the black car parked in the garage with open gates. If you could guess, you would say that some kind of single rocker uncle in his sixties lived there, he probably had a bike too considering the helmets hanging in the garage, he was most likely part of a bike club, drank beer, and wore worn out jeans and a cap.

But your guess turned out to be wrong when you walked back to the car to grab your things from the truck and a blonde guy around his twenties was smoking in front of said garage. He was wearing a black hoodie contrasting with his pale skin, and when your eyes met, you felt your body flutter. He had a pair of deep blue orbs that you could tell from a distance paired with pink lips that turned upward just a tiny bit – enough to indicate that he wasn’t unpleased by your appearance or staring. Giving him a small, polite wave you got back to loading your new house with your old stuff. 

-

If you were to be honest, you didn’t mind Dave that much. The sex was mid at best, he knew how to be rude, and he had a jealousy issue, but he was familiar. Something you got used to. Something that got to you during a hard time in your life, just like Natalie Diaz once said, grief and love are alike, they can blend in a way you can’t tell which is which. 

You held him like you held to your grief. 

However, you were in a new place. Physically and mentally. That new place included kind people like Mrs. Angelina, Mick, and the twin neighbors – Amina and Aman, a new community. 

And, of course, when you called Mick late at night after being unable to reach Dave, he answered on the first ring. 

Friday night.

Past eleven.

First ring.

Instant pickup.

You were still trying to digest the whole thing when his voice sounded on the other side of the line. You have been interacting long enough to pinpoint precisely how his voice shifts, to notice the hind of worry in his tone. 

“Yn?” He tries again after your silence. “Is everything ok?”

“Y-yeah, hm… Are you busy?” you bit the inside of your cheek wanting the metallic taste to anchor you. Your mind was everywhere but where it needed to be. 

You heard shuffling around and his rock music being turned down, “Nah, I’m just working on the missus, as usual.” The missus being his black Benz EVO II. “What happened?” 

“Bluey stopped working in the middle of a shortcut I decided to take,” you spilled everything, using the nickname you got for your car when you first got it.

“Oh shoot, you should have let me look at him that first week,” he mumbled, and you heard his keys jingle. “Send me your location, I’m on my way to tow that old bastard.” 

“Please, show my Honda some respect,” you joshed and he chuckled. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you could almost see him rolling his eyes playfully. “Don’t hang up, keep talking to me so I know you’re safe.”

“I’m ok, Mick, it’s just a weird and dark road, but no signs of snakes or frogs so all good.”

“How funny, did you get extra sugar on your coffee today, sweets?” 

It was your turn to roll your eyes except you did it to prevent your smile from growing. 

“Yup, extra sugar and extra syrup. I got you a venti iced, but if you keep being this sassy I’ll drink it all before you get here.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“Oh, I would, Mick. I totally would.” 

He huffed, and you both giggled like a pair of teenagers before a comfortable silence was installed. 

Sure enough, five minutes later he was looking inside your Honda’s motor while you held your flashlight beside him. His hands and arms were stained with oil and car grease from working on his car earlier that day. 

-

You took a step back. Your ass found the grill of his black Mercedes, and your eyes lowered to his black Converses, suddenly finding the creases and dirt on the shoes interesting enough, until they stepped between your legs. His sturdy body claimed its space there.

Mike didn’t need to say a word – his cigarette and drink were forgotten beside you, and his free hands found your waist, pushed your body on the hood of the car, and fully stepped between your thighs. His strong waist made you open wide for him. He didn’t need to say a word, yet he did and wanted to hear you say it. 

“Will you let me give you an orgasm? Show you what that loser of a boyfriend probably never did.”

There it was his crudeness again, laced with filth. You gulped, staring into his ocean-blue eyes, and after a beat, finally, nodded.

Mike’s pink lips tipped up in a smirk, and he dipped his head so his mouth was close to your ear, “Wanna hear you say it, sweets.” 

He wanted you to be part of his dirty game. He wouldn’t do it alone. He wouldn’t take the blame. Or maybe he just rejoiced in knowing there was a part of you as filthy as he was, that craved the illicit with him. His honesty, though unsettling, draped over you like a blanket. It was warm. Maybe too warm. It would most likely burn soon, but you didn’t care. You wanted his body to be draped over yours too. Wanted the gush of air that left his mouth when he whispered against the skin of your neck. 

“Please, Mike.” 

“You gotta say it.”

“Fuck. Fuck me.”

And everything he did after felt like a fever dream.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I hope you guys liked this lil sneak peek! Make sure to like and reblog if you did *mwah* and PLEASE, LET'S INDULGE IN THIS MECHANIC!MICK UNIVERSEEEE, I'M KINDA OBSESSED WITH IT dskgjsdkgdg

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©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

[jazzylovegood]

HAIKYUU HEADCANONS 1

Keiji Akaashi

Thanks to TikTok I learnt that Akaashi is canon to be one weird ass motherfucka, so….

- Definitely talks to himself. He mutters to himself all the time, no matter who he is around or what he is doing. Sometimes it would be on accident, he would be thinking and then just say it out loud.

“Was it the frog or toad that killed him?” -Akaashi

“….What?” -Konoha

“It was definitely the frog, the toad would never.” -Akaashi

- Listens to music you would not expect him to.

”Hey, Akaashi what you listening to? -Bokuto

”Nothing much.” -Akaashi

Bokuto puts his ear up to Akaashi’s headphones and just hears Cluster by fuckin Slipknot.

- Mr. Keiji “I cannot stop cracking my bones” Akaashi

Even in silence he will just randomly decide to crack something. Knee, fingers, hand, toes, head, elbow. He will be cracking it. Helps him concentrate.

- I would like to remind you that Akaashi is everything but shy, he is very blunt and sassy when he is speaking, and he definitely stays that way for everyone. Is not the type to hold back or change his personality when meeting someone new. (Which we saw in the show). Him and Kenma are not the same. There is a difference between chill and shy.

- You know you are one of his close friends when he remembers everything you tell him. Your shoe size, blood type, your favorite food as a kid, your 5th favorite color, even what you named your pet rock in 1st grade. You mention it once to him and he will remember because to him that is what could make him a great friend.

- He actually does write stuff in his notes app. His notes app is his most used app every week. 10 hours at least. He writes EVERY THOUGHT in there. For example, during the day when he thinks about food, he would like to eat for dinner he writes it down. As a reminder. Even though he has amazing memory, he does this to make sure his past self is happy.

- Watches tv in dad pose. Arms are entire crossed or on his hips. He will read the synopsis of the show and say he was not interested in it and then would be standing there watching. As The Gods Will for example.

- Makes eye contact. Wants you to feel heard and he wants to see the changes in your facial expressions (If you are like me, you have A LOT of those). That is why I think he is pulled towards people like Bokuto, loud and genuine people. He is also pulled towards great storytellers, people who use their hands when they are talking and/or voices for people involved. Always have that evidence on lockdown. He would love to see the receipts.

- Wears weird ass shirts. I am talking “a picture of pants on a shirt” type shit. World's greatest grandpa, I am just a girl, and would have shirts with his friend's names on it, in a pun way. “Danny stops! Do not poke your toes!” Get it. Bokuto. Poke your toes (I am kinda sorry).

═══════════════•°•🦉•°•════════════════

TIKTOK MENTIONS

“Sometimes he'll think of a line from a vid he watched a week ago and repeat it for hours.” -four ☆

“Does not smell like anything. not his shampoo, not even sweat, he doesn't have a smell at all.” -monira 💌

“Y’all know those little rubber band bracelets that made shapes? yea, he has a whole collection of them in a jar” -kai 🎸🦕

“If he had any piercings, he would constantly be playing with it touching them” -coors_lightt

Other HEADCANONS: Daichi,