vintage ceramic pierrot table lamp

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter Pre-27] || [Chapter 28]

Pairing: Price x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K cw: none Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: Just a cute little moment + us clowning on all the lads bc ofc

Chapter 27: Peace and Quiet.

When you asked John to take you away, him taking you on a whole boat was not what you had in mind.

Granted, he did take you to his home in Credenhill beforehand; a cosy two-bedroom row home, which was surprisingly well-furnished for a single man in his 40s.

After having dinner on Friday night with him (John is a surprisingly good cook!) and cuddling together on the sofa before ending the night in bed, late on Saturday morning he awoke you with brunch in bed.

You half expected a lazy Saturday... only for him to tell you that you were going on an adventure.

So you ended up down south, on river Severn, on a boat. No, not a goddamn rickety fishing boat; a bloody yacht. A small one, but one nonetheless.

That didn't stop him from wearing a fishing hat. Come to think of it, you very rarely see John without a hat, only indoors. But last night when he went to get you, he was wearing a toque... He wears those a lot.

Apparently, John is an avid fan of boating. And bought one a few years back.

"Was this just an attempt at showing off?" You teased him as you stood by his side, one of his arms wrapped around your hip as the boat cruised out to the mouth of the river.

"No, da'lin', would never dream of it." John replied with a cheeky grin.

"I feel like you're lying to me." You replied as you leaned against him, eyes locked on the beautiful view of the cityscapes as you sailed out to the sea.

"Not lying, just... embellishing the truth." He joked and nuzzled up to you, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck as he pulled you to sit on his lap at the command of the boat.

"Right..." You said sarcastically, feigning annoyance, before melting at the feel of his kisses, his nose nuzzling into your hair, his beard tickling your nape.

"Plus, maybe, perhaps, I was worried the lads were going to try and crash out little getaway..." He whispered as he kept dropping little kisses onto you. "Yeah?" You asked as you looked up and back at him.

"They know where I live... Simon does, at least. And I doubt he'd show up, but... he likes you a whole lot." John murmured and then started peppering kisses to your neck.

Shivering a bit, you chuckled. "And you don't share, do you?" You joked.

"Oh, I share. But you asked me to take you away, not to bring 'em with." He quipped with a smirk on his lips.

"Haven't seen you share yet, so my point still stands." You retorted as you narrowed your eyes playfully at him.

"Oh, is that how it is? You're a 'need to see it to believe it', type of person?" He joked and rubbed his lips against the shell of your ear.

"Mhm..." You replied as your eyes closed, leaning back into him, feeling his displays of affection.

Your hands found his extended forearms as his hands controlled the boat on either side of you. You caressed his strong, hairy forearms, a weak attempt at returning the affection.

"How about you go sit out there... Feel the sea air, the water splashing on you..." He offered. "Lay out in the sun, get a bit of a tan?"

"John, we're off the coast in Wales. There's not going to be a tan." You told him playfully.

"Humour me, will you?" He asked you and shook his head, amused.

Nodding, you got up off his lap, kissing him on the lips one last time before you slipped into the cabin to get changed into a swimsuit and then back out.

You sat outside, where John could see you from the cockpit, and took his advice to heart, lounging on the foam chairs at the bow, enjoying the cool water splashing and the sun in the horizon. It was actually enjoyable.

You sneaked a glance at John as he drove the boat, smiling at him, before you decided to put on some sunscreen, just in case. John watched you closely and made a point of showing you how much he enjoyed the sight of you putting it on. At one point he even wolf whistled at you.

After a while, John slowed the boat down and moored it. You didn't think much of it, though the area you were in was beautiful. Nothing but the two of you for miles, the ocean rocking the boat nicely and the sun shining ahead.

John comes to join you, in his own swimming trunks, pulling you close, and peppering kisses all over your back, shoulders, nape... You find yourself giggling. There was something about John... Perhaps the fact he was older, but his attention felt so... nice.

"Is this what you wanted?" He asked. "Some good ol' peace and quiet?"

"Mhm..." You replied as you rolled over to face him. Then, you burst out laughing.

How were you supposed to not? The man had haphazardly lathered himself in sunscreen and was still wearing the bloody fishing hat!

"John, I can't-" You joked.

"What?" He asked in confusion, eyebrows raised.

"You look like a dad on vacation!" You joked and resumed your fit of giggles.

"You calling me old?" He asked in an exaggerated tone.

"No!" You said as you pushed yourself up onto your knees, running your hands over his face to spread the sunscreen more evenly. "You just..." You trailed off.

"I'll have ya know I'm still in my prime." He murmured, his thick beard covering his mouth with each word he spoke.

"You're also a dork." You retorted, feeling his hands slide up your thighs as he pulled you onto his lap.

"Oh? Would a dork have a pretty thing like you in a swimsuit in his arms while on his own boat?" He retorted before leaning close and peppering a kiss on your lips.

"I guess not." You replied playfully. "But the hat certainly doesn't help." You added and slipped it off his head. "See? So much better..."

"I happen to like my boonie hat." He told you as he kept peppering kisses on your face. "I wear it all the time when I'm in the field."

"No way?" You asked dramatically. "You mean you wear this when you're out there with your rifles and what not?" You asked as you lifted the hat off the seat next to you.

"Yes?" He told you, causing you to break into laughter again. "What? It's not that bad, is it?" He asked, feigning insecurity.

"No, it's just-" You trailed off. "First, Simon with his skull mask, then you with your boonie hat... What's next?" You asked.

"Kyle wears a baseball cap with the British flag more often than not." John replied, causing you to shriek with laughter.

"NO?!" You replied, incredulously. "No way?! He dresses so nicely out of uniform, you're telling me he also does the 'one hat' thing?"

"Absolutely he does. Have to ask him to take it off sometimes. It's like it's glued to 'im." He joked as his hands caress your body lovingly.

"What about Johnny?" You asked with narrowed eyes.

"Doesn't wear anything. Just that stupid bloody mohawk." He replied.

"Is it because of his big head?" You joked, which caused you both to break into laughter this time.

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taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @xxshadowbabexx

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

Sharon Wirth household

Single Romance sims one after another.

Sharon has three bolts with Elizabeth Aspir. She doesn't care if it's wrong, she wants to be more than just good friends, even if it makes her a homewrecker.

In the morning, Sharon returned home after clubbing to witness this scene. I swear, in this neighborhood only Circe and Loki Beakers are stealing everyone's newspapers. Maybe they need it for a secret science project or something, or maybe they're the biggest assholes around.

A couple of days later, Sharon and Elizabeth ran into each other in the coffee shop. And the seduction continued.

Finally, they're more than just friends. The best friends!

Marital infidelity aside, Chloe and Gotthart Curious were also at the coffee shop and they had a quality family time. This the first time I see Chloe autonomously giving her son any attention.

Later that evening, Sharon asked Elizabeth Aspir on a proper first date. Then she suddenly rolled this want.

I decided to lock it in only if it stays for a while, but it almost immediately changed to something usual, like to woohoo with 3 sims.

The date went well.

And then I made a mistake. Sharon wanted to throw a party. She invited all her friends. I thought it would be fun to buy a hacked "alcoholic" beer to make party a little crazier. What I didn't think about was that most of Sharon's friends were pregnant… I don't have any mods for miscarriage, so it's technically completely safe. It just looks super weird, lol.

Yeah...I have nothing to add to this.

Sharon had a little too much beer.

Ajay Loner stayed true to his last name and spent the party sitting alone in the kitchen, drinking juice. ...or whatever these three pixels are. I really need to install some default replacements for those fugly maxis cans.

Later that night, Elizabeth brought a gift for the nice date. This is the only reason why I love Romance sims. They don't even have to try, they get expensive gifts and promotions for "good reputation." My Romance sims usually don't learn any skills throughout their lives, yet almost always succeed.

The gift was just in time. Sharon had about 200 simoleons to her name.

Sharon went to the Strangetown community swimming pool, and there she was, another victim of Lucy Mole's clown beauty salon.

Terrifying.

There was Amy, another Sharon's love interest. They got so carried away that didn't even notice when poor Sophia Jocque was struck by lightning.

Amy was also grateful for the amazing date. With this money, Sharon will be able to properly furnish her living room.

And that's it.

From time to time, Sharon rolls wants to marry both Amy and Elizabeth, despite having Romance/Popularity aspirations. Strange. I want her and Elizabeth to be together, but Elizabeth has a great relationship with her husband, so idk…

penelope seems to be having more success with the guys than her sister. this dude, for example, is more than happy to ramble on about his fraternity while penelope blissfully dissociates.

she's not really not into him though, even after he gifts her with some super cool savings options.

penelope: the kind of furnishings i require cannot be found in some shitty discount warehouse.

really? you'd think that clown-inspired home decor would have clearance stickers slapped all over them.

get up, penelope. you're inexplicably adoring public wants you.

//Kronos hive i think is pretty like clean and decent, it's also a boat, well-furnished boat. very cozy but i think that he likes to collect stuff. Like clearly "Cronus" adjacent decor, greaser stuff, human culture stuff, but also just careful in his living room there's a shelf of creepy clown dolls. just below it? furbies. next selfie? an assorted collection worms. like I LIKE to think he lives up to the creepy goth aesthetic he has. but also he's just VERY very mellow his house is probably a mix of violet and purples but also pretty warm and inviting, lots of other colors. sorta lacking in beforan/alternian decor due to his fascination with humans and human culture. so it's a lot warmer to non-aliens.

It's also pretty large, sorta a vacant home, Kronos might mention it feels empty and cold despite how warm it looks. Which is why he stays with Kurloz most of the time.

he tries to keep it decorated however and filled with stuff to make it seem less empty.

Run Rabbit (HTC OC's x Baby, Otis, Spaulding)

AN once in the HOTC world it will take place about 10 years before the first movie.

Blair pov

I sat on our black leather couch. I’m pretty sure Graves found it next to some apartment dumpster and it was partially held together by brightly colored duct tape. My closest friends and roommates were sitting with me, April on the couch and Graves in a stolen bean bag chair right next to the couch. We were watching our favorite movie, House of 1000 Corpses with the sequel being second favorite. As a group we probably watched it once every other week. 

Normal POV.

  April Locke was a short, maybe five feet two inches, yet busty woman somewhere in her mid thirties, bright cerulean eyes were complimented by pale skin and deep black hair that was more often than not dyed to match her eyes. Her hair easily reached her waist even when tied back in her signature high ponytail that fell into four smaller ponytails.She worked as a makeup artist and stripper to make ends meet. She was the oldest of the oddball group.

 Graves Cassidy was a tall man maybe six feet two inches, nineteen years old, his hair was long especially for a man reaching his chest and was a very dirty blonde nearly brunette color. His body was fairly lean yet had some toned definition. He too was fairly pale from mostly being at work at night and asleep in the day. His job was a drug dealer and occasionally a thief. Graves was good at his job and paid for two thirds of the rent for the trio. 

Blair Crowley was five feet seven inches and had a slim build and was also very very pale. She had been athletic most of her life, she had become athletic in an unusual way for a child though. Her favorite way to get fit was knife and fencing classes along with bootcamps. She was twenty eight years old. Blair had a lack of empathy and emotion towards most of humanity except those she held dear. Due to her lack of emotion she found comfort in her work as a mortician. Her hobby was currently taxidermy, since to her it was an extension of mortician things.  

The trio were the black sheep of their families and outcasts of society. Their found family was much stronger than any blood relations they had. Their apartment was a three bed two bath apartment with a good sized kitchen and living room. The furnishings consisted of 90% stolen or dumpster finds and 10% bought items. At the beginning they didn’t have much money and so made due with what they could do. Dumpster finds were always fun group projects since they would clean it and then refurbish it to their liking. The entire apartment was far from “normal” and that’s how they liked it. 

“I don’t really care what anyone thinks when I say Captain Spaulding is one sexy mother fucker” April said passing the popcorn bowl to Graves. The other two gave the short woman a playful look of disgust. It was well known in the group that April loved Spaulding for god knows why. “Mmm no he isn’t you just have a thing for clowns” April spoke up. Graves leaned his head to look at the girls and chimed in “Says the one who likes the albino rat man.” His voice was deep and smooth. In retaliation she threw a cookie at the man's head. “I like his mind, '' Blair said softly. “No cookie warfare and suuuure it's for his mind.” April said with a smile poking her friend. 

When the movie ended Graves stood up and stretched. “Well lovelies I have to get to work.” He said as he walked to grab his dusty trenchcoat. “Work is an interesting word choice.” Blair called over to him. April added  “could you grab some milk and icecream on your way home?” The tall man huffed in slight annoyance. “I do believe I’m paying most of the rent. You can get off your butt and get groceries.” He said before slipping out the door into the night. The girls both had early mornings so they decided to turn in for the night. 

In the morning Blair woke up at 5:30 am, she walked out of her room to see Graves asleep on the couch with an empty beer bottle in his hand. She smiled and took the bottle so he wouldn’t break it. He was one of the few people on the planet that could make her smile a genuine smile. As she left for her morning run she threw the bottle into the dumpster behind their building. Blair was home by 6:20 am where a groggy April had made herself and Blair morning coffee and tea. The two had breakfast together as they did most mornings. Blair and April both left for work at the same time and walked to the nearby bus stop. April would be home by noon and then do a shift at the strip club in the evening. Blair worked almost every day from eight am to seven thirty pm.  Once all home they would sit down to have dinner or in Graves case breakfast. During this time they would catch up on what had happened throughout the night and day. It was like a ritual for the trio. 

On that Friday night they had decided to watch House of 1000 corpses for the millionth time. It went by as usual with drinks and popcorn being passed around. Once the credits rolled there was a loud crack and then static. This earned obscenities to be yelled by the group. Before they could wrap their heads around what was happening the world went black. 

Krish Benjamin "Copper" Russell

Birthday — 18th September 1995 Zodiac Big Three — Virgo Sun, Cancer Moon, Capricorn Rising MBTI — ESFJ Enneagram — 2 Temperament — Phlegmatic Moral Alignment — Neutral Good Primary Vice — Envy Primary Virtue — Patience Element — Earth

Overview:

Mother — Arushi Russell (née Basak) Father — Malcolm Russell Mother’s Occupation — A&E Nurse Father’s Occupation — Police officer Family Finances — stable, somewhere between lower and middle class Birth Order — only child Other Close Family — None Pets — None currently! Home Life During Childhood — He did spend a bit of time with the childminder/at after school clubs because of his parents and their different shifts but overall very happy and very involved until his dad passed away Town or City Name(s) — born and raised in York Any Sports or Clubs — Football, rowing Schooling — Got his BSc in Paramedic Science from Pride U Nationality — British Religion and beliefs — raised Hindu, though he doesn't really practice

physical appearance:

Face Claim —  Dev Patel Complexion — Brown Hair Colour — Black Eye Colour — Brown Height — 6’2 Common Hairstyle — unruly curls Clothing Style — Comfy cosy when he's not in uniform

your character’s character:

Bad Qualities — occasionaly too serious, stubborn Good Qualities — protective, loyal Proud of — following his heart and becoming a paramedic! Embarrassed by — Old baby photos Driving Style — Impeccable driver. Like a text-book good driver Phobias — Clowns Secrets — He keeps a lot of his past a secret, mostly cause he thinks it can be quite intense and he doesn't want anyone to look at him differently Regrets — Sometimes he regrets not sticking it out as a police officer tbh Feels Vulnerable When — He's alone Pet Peeves — His biggest pet peeve is people talking over other people!! Short Term Goals — |Find his lost best friend Long Term Goals — Find a niche for himself somewhere and settle down Sexuality — Bisexual Day or Night Person — Both Introvert or Extrovert — Also both! Optimist or Pessimist — Depends on the day honestly

likes and styles:

Music — (Indie) rock with a guilty pleasure of the specific Charlie XCX brand of like synth electro pop Books — He likes non-fiction books and honestly he doesn't care what they're about Magazines — he's not really a magazine guy tbh Foods — He can only cook two meals: his mother's Dal and a Sunday roast. Otherwise he just snacks Drinks — Lots and lots of coffee but also lots and lots of water cause he's responsible Animals — He will lie and say his favourite animal is the wolf. His actualy faavourite animal is a hamster Color — Any shade of green

where and how does your character live now:

Home — 431 Sycamore Drive, Southern Isles Household furnishings — Guy Who Lives Alone And Only Has Plain Navy Bedsheet Aesthetic Favorite Possession — His family photos <3 Relationship with Family — He calls his mum as often as he can Car — I hate to say it but. It's probably some kind of audi Career — Registered paramedic Love Life — Disasterous Finances — lower middle class

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Okay now we need to see a true best friend moment with them 🥺

Picture karaoke to Hilltop Hoods “Clown Prince” in your somewhat furnished dorm room. Boxes still half unpacked, but it was an absolutely must to unpack the small karaoke machine Grayson insisted you bring. Novelty sunglasses from New Year’s Eve atop your heads. Junk you couldn’t part with because of memories. Screaming out at the top of your lungs.

Just you and Grayson. The way it was meant to be. Laughing, enjoying each other’s company. Being childish and stupid and wearing matching pyjamas his mother had gifted you, Ethan and Grayson. It burned every-time you saw another girl wearing the same shirt you had.

I could see Grayson not actually sleeping with Cathy Leman because he was too focused on the idea of you going home with Chad. So maybe he’s sitting at the steps of your dorm building wait for the inevitable moment Chad brings you back with his arm slung around you, kissing your neck.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice is breaking Grayson from his own thoughts. Your heels in your hand as you stand before him alone. “Where’s Cath—“

“I’m sorry okay?” Graysons just standing to his feet defeated. “I don’t fucking like the idea of you with other guys—“

“Contrary to your contorted belief Grayson I’m my own person, you don’t own me.” You just needed to state the obvious. “But you’ve been a real jerk lately.” 

“I don’t wanna loose you—“ it was almost as if Grayson was trying to say he cared. Sadness in his eyes as you pushes the hair that fell down your cheek behind your ear.

“The clown prince himself could never loose me—“ snaking an arm around your shoulders Grayson chuckled softly. Kissing your cheek as you walked up the stairs, initiating your handshake.

It always ended up good with Grayson—until the next time you’d see another random girl wearing your matching pyjama shirt after a one night stand. Unable to help himself.

clown bookends

"What are you afraid of?"

* * *

Sasha took the question seriously. It was hard to answer, the things she was scared of were too numerous to count. Heights, dark rooms, being followed at night, being mocked by her friends – or worse, put on a pedestal. She couldn't list them all without looking like a ball of anxiety, and besides, most of them weren't very deep.

She considered "not living up to my full potential" but it sounded too blatantly pandering.

"Entropy," she said eventually. "That tendency towards chaos, I suppose? The idea that everything you do will one day be lost and forgotten." From there she talked about why she'd gone into academia, spinning it as a passion for preserving and expanding knowledge, fighting against the slow march of time.

She'd been pleased with her answer. But on the train home, she overheard someone talking – half a sentence without context that happened to catch her ear. I don't want to be forgotten.

Sasha felt something dark settle in her, and in that moment she wished she had said something else.

* * *

Tim answered honestly. He hadn't really planned to, but the question had taken him by surprise and without thinking he'd said "clowns."

He had prepared for the interview. He'd researched the Institute and practiced his answers to the more standard questions beforehand. Then he'd flashed a confident smile to the mirror and told himself he was ready for anything. Clearly he'd been wrong – he hadn't been ready for a question that would send his mind momentarily reeling back to a place under Covent Garden Theater where his world had been forever undone.

Elias raised an eyebrow, and Tim smiled crookedly, playing it off. "I mean, they're pretty creepy, right? Who knows what's really under that makeup?"

He said it like it was funny, a charming, quirky phobia. Elias looked back at him and smiled.

"Indeed," he'd replied. "Could be anything, couldn't it?"

* * *

Martin couldn't tell if this was normal. Everything about the interview had felt weird, though he supposed he didn't have much to compare it to. It seemed like an intrusive thing to ask, but then, if you thought about it "what's your greatest weakness" was a pretty sinister question too.

He didn't have a clue how he was supposed to answer. Was he expected to give a phobia, or say something deep and introspective? He felt his mind pulling itself through a laundry list of worries and anxieties: house fires, small spaces, his mother's disapproving tone, being laughed at, losing the apartment.

The most honest answer would have probably been "everything, just in general," but he knew he shouldn't say that. Would "not living up to my full potential," sound too fake?

I'm afraid you're not going to hire me, he thought, and that if you don't I'm not going to find a job anywhere else. I'm afraid you already know I lied and you've only called me in for this interview to tell me off for the sake of some weird power trip. I'm afraid you will hire me and I'll cock it up in a week because I don't have any idea what I'm doing.

Mr. Bouchard was looking at him. Martin took a deep breath, and answered as best as he could.

"I'm afraid that I won't be able to take care of my mother."

* * *

Jon did not say "spiders." Nothing in the world could have made him say that.

Even if he had known for certain there would be no follow up questions, that it would be received with a shrug as the common phobia it was, he couldn't. It was too accurate, too deep. And the man sitting across from him would never understand.

But his mind went blank as he searched for alternatives. The seconds ticked by and the pause became more and more noticeable as he struggled to come up with something. The longer he took, the more panicked he became about the silence, and the more impossible it was to think at all.

Unable to furnish anything better, he finally said "not living up to my full potential."

To his surprise, Elias smiled and actually looked pleased. Jon felt relief wash over him at the thought that his response must not have sounded as pathetically insincere to his potential employer as it had inside his own head.

"An interesting answer," Elias said, making a mark in the corner of Jon's resume. "Perhaps this could be the place where your potential is truly realized."

I love your thoughts on Majima so much! He’s such a fun and interesting character to analyze and I’d like to ask what your general headcanons of him are? Like, just about any headcanon that comes to mind

Aaah thanks so much anon, it makes me fuzzy inside to know people like reading these sometimes really rambly replies! 💙 Headcanon-wise, ohhh, I’ve got a good few, but below are the first ones that come to mind. I’ve split them up roughly by topic, hopefully they’re easier to read this way!

Outfit

It always seemed to me that Majima’s environmentalism was a bit at odds with his signature look. Leather pants, leather gloves, snakeskin jacket, that’s a hell of an animal cruelty combo right there... so I think they’d actually all be fake. Majima may be flashy, but he’s not a hypocrite and with how many clothes he ruins by getting into fights, I don’t think he’d want to continuously sink cash into the leather industry. 

Though, that’s not to say his fashion would look or feel cheap! Whoever his tailor is, I bet they’re being paid well to source high quality, realistic looking leather and snake imitations.

Diet 

While we’re on this topic, I’d like to think Majima had a phase where he tried going vegetarian, after reading up on the ecological effects of animal farming. But here, he finds he can’t be as principled as with clothing, because the beef bowl cravings get too strong sometimes and the boys are noticeably crankier without their usual family barbecues... So he’d give up on the idea eventually. He's not a saint, he’s gotta have some indulgences. 

Love life 

Other things yakuza are known to indulge in: the sex trade (or “water trade” in Japan I suppose). I mean, they run a good amount of these businesses, makes sense that they’d visit them too, right? But I think, for Majima, hostess clubs would hold too many bittersweet memories and, generally, he wouldn’t enjoy being buttered up. Simulated love and empty words for a price... a hostess won’t be nearly as sincere with him—an obviously loaded customer—as the Sunshine girls were with their manager, so why bother? If it’s just gonna be two clowns putting on a show for each other... 

Frustration and distracting thoughts might push him to go to a soapland or brothel, but those visits are about as frequent as his one-night stands, which is to say: rare. His body has needs, but they mostly serve to remind him of the needs of his heart, which are so much harder to fill...

Pastimes 

So how does Maijma spend his spare moments then? Batting cages, of course, but also watching TV in his apartment, playing zombie shooters or just about any game that can help pass the time. When he’s alone, I think a lot of his habits are carried over from his days in Sotenbori, whether he realizes it or not. Thus...

Smoking 

He’s likely got an ashtray in every room, since his addiction manifests all the worse when he’s at home. He usually remembers to open the window first, but on particularly bad nights, he’d be no stranger to smoking in bed or on the bathroom floor. 

I think he didn’t use to smoke much as a young adult (19-20), but after his days in the Hole, it’s a way to cope with trauma and mounting stress. The habit only really ramped up when 23-year-old Majima realized that the more cigarettes he burns through, the less hungry he feels and the more money he can save for Sagawa’s monthly payment.... Grooming 

His apartment is sparsely furnished and looks barely lived in, probably because it is. You also won’t find him in lounge clothes too often, even the eye patch stays on almost 24/7. It’s so much a part of him now, that he occasionally forgets to take it off in the shower. But let me just say this: he’s no slob. Majima has had more than his fair share of living in squalor, while he was still in the Hole... People joke about him being greasy, but I really don’t think he could stand the feeling of being dirty. Though speaking of, I think he’d prefer showers over baths. Less idle time for the painful thoughts to creep in. The only way he’d start warming up to the idea of a nice soak every night is... if he maybe had a partner who’d gently wash his hair and back, to ease the day’s tension... or if there was a little munchkin all too eager to have him play sea monster to their fleet of rubber duckies. Would at least one of the duckies have a little eye patch scribbled on it in sharpie? Well, who’s to say... 😌

Just like his apartment, I think he would himself smell of cigarettes, but always mixed with something almost... citrus-y. Muted and a little bitter, like bergamot, from the cologne he wears on days where he needs to dress presentably. Though if you also happen to catch a note of vanilla on him... well, that’s likely a hint that Goromi’s been out on the town. (´~ ω •`) 

Skills 

Last but not least, a slightly unrelated headcanon: Majima’s surprisingly good with numbers and equations. Not because he’s received a great education (though he is definitely the kind of guy who succeeds in almost anything he applies himself to, it’s just that he rarely does) but because being in charge of The Grand’s bookkeeping, night after night for two years, has taught him skills that are not so easily forgotten. However, it’s not something he brags about, so the first few times it’ll definitely come as a shock to his subordinates. He’ll be given a balance sheet or a contract to sign and Nishida assumes his eye will just glaze over and he’ll throw the papers back at his face, but instead Majima spots a calculation error within a minute of looking at it. Then he gives Nishida an earful about paying more attention to these things... then he throws the papers back, yeah.

And because I can’t help myself on the Majidad headcanons: of course this means he’s on duty for helping his kid with their math homework. 

Whew, this ended up as a big wall of text, sorry! Guess you can tell Majima occupies my thoughts a lot more than he probably should hah... It’s fun to share these though! Thank you so much for the ask! 💙💙💙

Imagine being a clown and furnishing your home

Hauntober prompt Vampires

Nalu requested by @mccnfairy

“You guys are leaving already?” Natsu questions the group of girls as they get ready to leave his Halloween house party.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be back later.” Lucy pats the man on the cheek. “There’s just one more place we wanted to check out tonight.”

“Oh, okay cool! Just be safe out there, lots of creeps out tonight.”

“We will,” this time it’s Levy who responds with a giggle. “Besides, we have an Erza. Pity the fool who dares to harass us.”

It had really been a silly idea, but why not have a little spooky adventure this All Hallows’ Eve. The friends, Lucy Heartfilia, Levy McGarden, Erza Scarlet, and Cana Alberona had heard about this abandoned old mansion at the edge of town that was supposedly haunted. According to Levy’s research, the structure dated back to the days of the Civil War and may have been owned by a plantation owner killed by his slaves in revolt. Of course, there was no way to confirm it because town records seemed sparse or missing from those years and most of it became folk tales passed down through the generations.

At one point a haunted house attraction was actually run inside the building, but as of the last six years or so, it had been left vacant with only a fading ‘For Sale’ sign outside its massive iron gates. Until recently, that is. Someone has actually bought the property and according to the large sign out front it would be demolished in three weeks to make way for a new apartment complex. Hence the girl’s temptation to check it out before that happens.

“Be careful,” Erza warns the group. “We don’t know how structurally sound this place is.”

The four girls armed with flashlights slowly make their way into the creepy building. Every hair on the back of Lucy’s neck stands up as soon as she enters; she shivers. This was such a bad idea...

Wham!

The front door slams shut behind them causing everyone to jump and scream.

“I-It’s just the wind,” Erza reasons. “Just stay close everyone.”

All the nervous energy made the sounds around them seem heightened. Every creek of a floor board or scuttling of creatures through the debris. Broken windows allowed wind to funnel through creating eerie drafts to tickle their skin and the groans of the building were like fodder for a horror movie. But they pressed on, determined to explore.

‘There’s no such thing as ghosts,’ Lucy reminds herself. It’s all just made up stories to keep kids in line. She had no reason to believe that supernatural creatures existed.

“Look at all this stuff left behind,” Cana remarks as they pass through what used to be a kitchen. “It’s all the haunted house props.”

Even in the dark they could see fake blood splattered or holes cut in the walls for actors to pop their heads through. Rubber body parts, broken skeletons, old looking medical equipment, basically every cliche thing you could think of. Different props for different themes.

One by one they make their way through the first floor of the house. It was such a huge place. Sitting rooms, pantry’s, a game room, bathrooms, dining hall, a living room, and that’s just the first floor! A grand staircase took you to the second floor which had one long hall way leading to all the bedrooms, then further to a second staircase that took you to the third floor servants quarters and attic.

By the time the girls had made it to the second floor, their guards had been somewhat lowered. Despite the creepiness of the old building, there was nothing really paranormal to scare them. Lucy began to trail behind out of curiosity, stopping at each bedroom to take a better look inside. Some of the rooms still held old furnishings from a bygone era. Large postered beds and ornate dressers or armoires, oil lamps, and old ripped paintings on walls. She could imagine how grand this home must have looked in its hay day.

But when Lucy steps out of the room she was in, the sudden realization that she was alone fuels a wave of goosebumps to ripple along her arms. “G-Guys?!” She couldn’t even hear any of her friends voices. Oh no! Where’d they go? Upstairs? Back down stairs?! The house was as still as death, no more creeks and groans, just the empty darkness beyond the beam of her flashlight or moon glow filtering through the windows.

She books it back downstairs to the front door as the safest alternative. Eventually her friends had to leave, so she’ll just wait there patiently for them. While she waits, Lucy turns on her phone to distract herself from the silence. It was Halloween after all, and social media was flooded with photos of parties and trick or treaters.

A soft shuttling sound causes Lucy to stiffen up. ‘It’s just a mouse, it’s just a mouse, it’s just a—’

Measured thuds, boots over wooden floors in her direction! Wait! None of them were wearing boots! Lucy spins around with her flashlight gripped tightly in her hand. “W-Who’s there!” She gasps as the beam hits a human chest not three feet from her. “Natsu?! What are you doing here?!” But he was dressed differently. His hair was slicked down, wearing an old style black suit and shoulder cape like the dapper dons of the 1800s.

“Why, I live here, that’s why,” he grins wide, his pearly fangs catching the beam of her flashlight.

Was his fangs longer than she remembered? “What are you talking about?! We just came from your house.”

“Oh, that’s just one of my other homes. This,” he motions with his arms, “is where I lived centuries ago. You see I have to maintain a sense of normalcy to blend in.”

“Haha,” Lucy’s hands fall to her hips. “Very funny mister class clown. You’re just messing with me.”

He strides over without hesitation and grips her chin between two fingers, lifting it to meet her eyes. “Am I now?” His eyes grow hooded, amorous as his lips hover centimeters above her own. “It was I who started the rumors to peak humans curiosity. An easy way to lure victims for me to feed on.”

Lucy’s breathing slows and falters at the seriousness of his tone. This was nothing like the silly jokester they’d come to know and love! “Oh my god,” she breathes out. Her fear response screaming in her head but her body was frozen in place.

“There’s no god here tonight,” Natsu utters, then quick as a flash bites Lucy’s neck.

She screams with bloody intent as her heart pounds and pulse drowns out all sound, mind latching on the pain... that wasn’t there?! What the?!

Just as quickly as he’d bitten her, Natsu pulls away from the stunned woman, holding his stomach from laughter as she frantically checks her neck. “I so got you good!”

“What?!” Lucy screams and launches herself at him, pounding her fists against his chest. “You scared me on purpose?!”

He only laughs harder from her weaker strikes. “One of the guys overheard your plans and it was too tempting not to. I-I didn’t know which would end up the victim, but you came out first.”

“Omg so mean Natsu! You really scared me!”

When he focuses away from the amusement and realizes the true panic still left in the girls clouded eyes, Natsu felt a prick in his heart. Crap, maybe he’d gone a little too far this time. “Shit, I’m sorry Lucy, it was just a joke.”

She crossed her arms with a frown. “Well it wasn’t funny!”

At that point, more thuds coming streaming down the staircase. “What’s going on?!” They hear Erzas voice asking as the rest of the girls make it the first floor. “We heard a scream from the third floor and came rushing down.”

“Just a stupid joker,” Lucy points at Natsu. “He even fake bit me!”

“Wait, what?” Erza steps forward as Cana and Levy hold their breaths. “Natsu, you did what?!”

He pulls the fake vampire teeth out of his mouth and holds it up, “it was just, I was only teasing. Come on, it’s a Halloween prank.” When he sees Erzas eye brow raise, he holds up his hands. “Truce? I’m sorry!”

“Tch, you better be,” Lucy spits back. “Better make it up to me somehow.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“Take her out on a date!” Cana blurts out.

“Dinner and a movie!” Adds Levy.

Lucy squeaks in blushing embarrassment. “W-Wait! Hold up, that’s not what...”

“Pfft, I’ve been dying to do that since freshman year!” Natsu laughs and clasps his hands together in hope. “Whatdya say Lucy? I promise I won’t bite this time.”

With the other woman applying pressure through looks and hand gestures. Lucy groans and rolls her eyes. “Why do I feel like this was all a set up?!”

He pouts and gives her a puppy dog expression. “Is that a yes, or no?”

“Oh ya damn goof, I’ll go out with you, but yes! If you bite me this time I’ll return the favor!”

“Promise?”

May I ask what type of antiques you like (or collect)?

I’m not a big spender so I try not to buy as much as I just like to admire but I LOVEEE old dolls/porcelain figures, particularly clown stuff which I do buy and am always on the lookout for!! and I always look for antique furniture as inspiration because I plan on furnishing my future home solely with antique items ^_^

Fahrenheit 451

With school turning out more runners, jumpers, racers, tinkerers, grabbers, snatchers, fliers, and swimmers instead of examiners, critics, knowers, and imaginative creators, the word 'intellectual,' of course, became the swear word it deserved to be. You always dread the unfamiliar. We must all be alike. Not everyone born free and equal, as the Constitution says, but everyone made equal. Each man the image of every other; then all are happy, for there are no mountains to make them cower, to judge themselves against. So! A book is a loaded gun in the house next door. Burn it. Take the shot from the weapon. Breach man's mind. Who knows who might be the target of the well read man? Me? I won't stomach them for a minute. "When did it all start, you ask, this job of ours, how did it come about, where, when? Well, I'd say it really got started around about a thing called the Civil War. Even though our rule-book claims it was founded earlier. The fact is we didn't get along well until photography came into its own. Then motion pictures in the early twentieth century. Radio. Television. Things began to have mass. And because they had mass, they became simpler. Once, books appealed to a few people, here, there, everywhere. They could afford to be different. The world was roomy. But then the world got full of eyes and elbows and mouths. Double, triple, quadruple population. Films and radios, magazines, books leveled down to a sort of paste pudding norm, do you follow me? Picture it. Nineteenth-century man with his horses, dogs, carts, slow motion. Then, in the twentieth century, speed up your camera. Books cut shorter. Condensations, Digests. Tabloids. Everything boils down to the gag, the snap ending. Classics cut to fit fifteen-minute radio shows, then cut again to fill a two-minute book column, winding up at last as a ten- or twelve-line dictionary resume. I exaggerate, of course. The dictionaries were for reference. But many were those whose sole knowledge of Hamlet (you know the title certainly, Montag; it is probably only a faint rumor of a title to you, Mrs. Montag) whose sole knowledge, as I say, of Hamlet was a one-page digest in a book that claimed: now at least you can read all the classics; keep up with your neighbors. Do you see? Out of the nursery into the college and back to the nursery; there's your intellectual pattern for the past five centuries or more. Speed up the film, Montag, quick. Click? Pic? Look, Eye, Now, Flick, Here, There, Swift, Pace, Up, Down, In, Out, Why, How, Who, What, Where, Eh? Uh! Bang! Smack! Wallop, Bing, Bong, Boom! Digest-digests, digest-digest-digests. Politics? One column, two sentences, a headline! Then, in mid-air, all vanishes! Whirl man's mind around about so fast under the pumping hands of publishers, exploiters, broadcasters, that the centrifuge flings off all unnecessary, time-wasting thought! School is shortened, discipline relaxed, philosophies, histories, languages dropped, English and spelling gradually neglected, finally almost completely ignored. Life is immediate, the job counts, pleasure lies all about after work. Why learn anything save pressing buttons, pulling switches, fitting nuts and bolts? Empty the theatres save for clowns and furnish the rooms with glass walls and pretty colors running up and down the walls like confetti or blood or sherry or sauterne. You like baseball, don't you, Montag? More sports for everyone, group spirit, fun, and you don't have to think, eh? Organize and organize and super organize super-super sports. More cartoons in books. More pictures. The mind drinks less and less. Impatience. Highways full of crowds going somewhere, somewhere, somewhere, nowhere. The gasoline refuge. Towns turn into motels, people in nomadic surges from place to place, following the moon tides, living tonight in the room where you slept this noon and I the night before. Now let's take up the minorities in our civilization, shall we? Bigger the population, the more minorities. Don't step on the toes of the dog-lovers, the cat-lovers, doctors, lawyers, merchants, chiefs, Mormons, Baptists, Unitarians, second-generation Chinese, Swedes, Italians, Germans, Texans, Brooklynites, Irishmen, people from Oregon or Mexico. The people in this book, this play, this TV serial are not meant to represent any actual painters, cartographers, mechanics anywhere. The bigger your market, Montag, the less you handle controversy, remember that! All the minor minor minorities with their navels to be kept clean. Authors, full of evil thoughts, lock up your typewriters. They did. Magazines became a nice blend of vanilla tapioca. Books, so the damned snobbish critics said, were dishwater. No wonder books stopped selling, the critics said. But the public, knowing what it wanted, spinning happily, let the comic-books survive. And the three-dimensional sex-magazines, of course. There you have it, Montag. It didn't come from the Government down. There was no dictum, no declaration, no censorship, to start with, no! Technology, mass exploitation, and minority pressure carried the trick, thank God. You must understand that our civilization is so vast that we can't have our minorities upset and stirred. Ask yourself, What do we want in this country, above all? People want to be happy, isn't that right? Haven't you heard it all your life? I want to be happy, people say. Well, aren't they? Don't we keep them moving, don't we give them fun? That's all we live for, isn't it? For pleasure, for titillation? And you must admit our culture provides plenty of these. Colored people don't like Little Black Sambo. Burn it. White people don't feel good about Uncle Tom's Cabin. Burn it. Someone's written a book on tobacco and cancer of the lungs? The cigarette people are weeping? Burn the book. Serenity, Montag. Peace, Montag. Take your fight outside. Better yet, into the incinerator. Funerals are unhappy and pagan? Eliminate them, too. Forget them. Burn them all, burn everything. Fire is bright and fire is clean. [There was a girl next door. She's gone now, I think, dead. I can't even remember her face. But she was different. How? How did she happen?] Here or there, that's bound to occur. Heredity and environment are funny things. You can't rid yourselves of all the odd ducks in just a few years. The home environment can undo a lot you try to do at school. That's why we've lowered the kindergarten age year after year until now we're almost snatching them from the cradle. If you don't want a man unhappy politically, don't give him two sides to a question to worry him; give him one. Better yet, give him none. Let him forget there is such a thing as war. If the Government is inefficient, top-heavy, and tax-mad, better it be all those than that people worry over it. Peace, Montag. Give the people contests they win by remembering the words to more popular songs or the names of state capitals or how much corn Iowa grew last year. Cram them full of non-combustible data, chock them so damned full of 'facts' they feel stuffed, but absolutely `brilliant' with information. Then they'll feel they're thinking, they'll get a sense of motion without moving. And they'll be happy, because facts of that sort don't change. Don't give them any slippery stuff like philosophy or sociology to tie things up with. That way lies melancholy. Any man who can take a TV wall apart and put it back together again, and most men can nowadays, is happier than any man who tries to slide-rule, measure, and equate the universe, which just won't be measured or equated without making man feel bestial and lonely. I know, I've tried it; to hell with it. So bring on your clubs and parties, your acrobats and magicians, your dare-devils, jet cars, motorcycle helicopters, your sex and heroin, more of everything to do with automatic reflex. If the drama is bad, if the film says nothing, if the play is hollow, sting me with the Theremin, loudly. I'll think I'm responding to the play, when it's only a tactile reaction to vibration. But I don't care. I just like solid entertainment." We always talk about 1984 and Brave New World as the dystopias we are living in today, but Ray Bradbury´s book, written in the early 50s, is scarily accurate, describing perfectly and especially the last three/four years.