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ozzgin · 4 months

Note

Ozzgibz my lord may we have just one more crumb of pickle content pls pls pls🙏🙏🙏

Like I have an idea, reader as pickles mother🧐 like like like U wake up together after many many years

Not just a crumb, but an entire loaf! :D I will use this chance to finally finish all of the Pickle related requests I currently have. (At least I hope I haven’t omitted anything). So you may consider this a Pickle megathread, containing multiple requests put together.

Pickle Headcanons: A collection

Featuring Pickle and Reader: Pickle’s Mother! Reader, Pickle trying modern treats, Pickle and his newborn, Pickle x Student! Reader and Pickle x OP! Reader.

Pickle’s Mother! Reader

You wake up surrounded by heavy, intricate machinery and at a certain point it occurs to you just how long your slumber has been. Ah, that explains the peaceful, uninterrupted rest. You can’t recall the last time you slept this well. And, like clockwork, you hear the humans scream mere seconds after you stretch your rusted bones. A familiar growl jolts you back into action. Being frozen for millennia sadly doesn’t strip you of your motherly role.

With a groan, you rip the medical cords away from your body, indifferent to the frightened stares of the scientists currently unsure of your intentions. They needn’t be afraid for long. With the calculated movements of someone that has been doing this one too many times, you walk towards the source of ruckus and return with Pickle under your arm. It’s almost as if you’re wearing an invisible hero cape: the research team can finally relax knowing Pickle’s fearsome mother is here to keep him under control.

This arrangement now poses an interesting dilemma: how will the fights unfold under the watchful gaze of a protective, Jurassic mom? Should the fighters be worried about a vengeful counterattack if they’re too hasty with your son? The first one to test the waters is Retsu, and before he enters the arena you place a heavy hand on his shoulder, briefly guiding him aside. He nervously watches your gestures as you pretend to beat up an invisible opponent. Are you showing him potential punishments? Then you give him a friendly nudge and point to Pickle. Realization sinks in and he stares at you, wide eyed. You’re giving him advice on how to give Pickle a proper beating. Well, obviously. If they’re going to challenge your menace of a son, they should at least make it worthwhile. Rough him up a little. At the end of the day, it’s less work for you.

Pickle tries modern treats

Pickle would probably lose his mind with any carbonated drink or sweet flavor. He never had access to this amount of sugar, so I’m wondering if he’d think it’s poisonous once he becomes agitated from the abrupt intake. Nice, exquisite smell and a vibrant color that tempts him enough to give it a try. Next thing you know, the liquid sizzles in his mouth and he panics, but eventually settles down. Then his heartbeat increases and he’s squirming under the confused stares of the fighters (who initially offered him the drink), until Professor Payne points out his body might not be accustomed to our levels of sugar. The real trouble starts once he can handle the unhealthy snacks, because someone will have to stop him from overeating. (To be fair I’ve also never had a Baja Blast, seems less popular/available in Europe but it looks nice.)

Pickle unable to care for his baby

They say your life flashes before your eyes as you die and you certainly gazed upon a delectable bunch of recollections when the prehistoric man swung his massive body towards you, growling threateningly. They were hoping the fighters could keep him entertained long enough for you to feed the baby, but it seems his fatherly instincts (that he’s otherwise lacking) trumped his need for battle. Thankfully, he stops right before his clawed hand touches your frightened face. For the first time he sees his newborn eating, the puffy cheeks expanding with each gulp of the mysterious bottled liquid you’re providing.

Well, if all you’re doing is feeding his child, he might as well keep you around. You certainly don’t look like a threat, even less so than the men he just faced in the Arena. To the relief of everyone witnessing the spectacle, you get to live and handle the baby. Not like you have significantly more experience when it comes to taking care of infants, but with the help of the scientists you manage to ease Pickle into his parenting role.

All this time spent together has reminded Pickle just how much he misses the presence of a second parent. The baby likes you, you seem to be rather knowledgeable about these matters, and you’re extremely cute if he is to be fully honest with himself. The Jurassic man can’t help the faint smile gracing his features whenever he pictures it: you make a nice family, wouldn’t you agree?

Pickle x Student! Female Reader

You’ve learned to ignore the bewildered stares. Thankfully, this time, the only unusual sight consists of Pickle’s gargantuan size and nothing else. He’s dressed in modern attire and has since learned to behave better in public. You recall the first encounters, where an almost naked Jurassic creature kept following you around and wouldn’t take no for an answer. It took you several weeks to figure out he’s interested in you, and you eventually relented. Naturally you couldn’t have gone outside with a wild jungle beast donning a fundoshi and nothing else. So you did your best to instill modern customs into your new boyfriend.

And, for the most part, it worked. He’s sitting with you on a campus bench, politely waiting for you to finish your rough sketch. He enjoys watching your drawing process, especially if he’s the subject of the piece. A giddy feeling overwhelms him, almost as if he’s being physically touched with each stroke of the pencil. The fact that you observe him so carefully, and then somehow reproduce the image so accurately on paper…It entertains him greatly. Sadly he can’t return the favor. You’ve offered him drawing tools before in case he wanted to join your creative hobby, but there was no dormant Botticelli in his soul waiting to be awakened.

While he may not share your artistic inclination, you can at least be assured that no threat will ever reach your proximity again. His hands were built for battle and he makes sure you witness this truth on every occasion. No fight begins without your presence in the Underground Arena. As much as you feel for his battered opponents, the whole ordeal results in very neat action frames. You leave the matches with brand new batches of doodles. Who would’ve thought you’d find your muse in a prehistoric man? Additionally, if you ever need some extra cash, there’s always the option of delving into erotic art. After all, you have access to any reference you could ever need and Pickle would be most eager to help you.

Pickle x OP! Reader

@mariahvilla569

So this was a little difficult because I wasn’t sure whether Reader is overpowered in relation to someone in particular or just the whole Bakiverse. I went for a Reader who’s stronger than everyone else.

Pickle was very confused when he met you for the first time, standing in the audience of the Underground Arena to observe his match with Retsu. He was instantly smitten and was about to discard any intention of a fight to immediately pursue you instead, but he was stopped by multiple men forming a barrier before you and an angered Retsu demanding his undivided attention. He assumed you must be someone’s partner and therefore he’ll have to win his way to you. He couldn’t have guessed in a million years that you were politely allowing everyone else to have their fun before you swiftly cashed in your victory.

You did have enough grace to take your time with the prehistoric man. He doesn’t doubt that if you so desired, you could’ve ended the battle within mere moments; but just like the rest of the men, you wanted your fair share of entertainment. This way Pickle was also offered a sample of your exquisite skills, which made all the fighters before you fade into nothingness. Truly astonishing that a human half his size would tower above him in terms of raw power. He was left beyond impressed and his initial crush has avalanched into a full blown obsession.

Just because you’re stronger doesn’t mean he can’t fulfill the duties of a protective partner. Consider it a way to efficiently save time, as whoever isn’t strong enough to get past him isn’t worth your precious time. Not to mention that Pickle has come to view your sparring sessions as a special form of intimacy reserved for him and you only. If you need to train, he should suffice as an opponent. There’s no one else as sturdy as him, and you’re always in a great mood after a proper fight, so he’d be an utter fool not to take advantage of it.

#baki #baki the grappler #baki hanma #baki headcanons #pickle baki #pickle x reader #baki x reader

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theaveragepsychoticbitch · 9 months

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Hey there!! Could I request some sfw + nsfw hcs of Poseidon , Buddha , and Nikola Tesla with a cat hybrid! Reader?💕

I've been wanting to do another hybrid readerrr😭thanks for the request <3 I'm not sure if I'm characterizing Mr Kola right, but there's a first for everything! I'll make the SFW and NSFW versions separate, so send another ask just to bookmark it would you?♡

Poseidon, Buddha, Tesla x Cat Hybrid!Reader || SFW || Headcanons || Warnings: Ur, none!

Poseidon♡

The king of the seas is ironically, a cat guy. When he sees you sleeping, tail tucked comfortably into your side with your ears twitching occasionally, a strange feeling comes over him.

You were definitely lesser, and he definitely despises you along with everyone else but... he supposes you may sleep in his private suite.

He somehow doesn't hear you when you point out that you didn't ask to sleep there in the first place.

Rubs your ears subconsciously. They're like a stress reliever for him, and dealing with other gods caused him great amounts of stress. He's embarrassed by it (though he'd die before admitting it) and so whenever he catches himself reaching for you, he has the audacity to get mad at you, and send you away.

Quickly calls for your return though. Which he also is embarrassed by.

Loves when you purr in your sleep. Late at night with nothing and no one to see how his face relaxes as the vibrations hit his chest. One large hand adoringly placed atop your head, he hasn't slept this well in eons.

Buddha ♥︎

His initial impression of you was unhinged; he'd caught you in some sort of... hiss-off with an actual cat. It was far too interesting a sight for him to simply ignore it. So he sat there, for ten good minutes, until you finally emerged victor! He jumped and cheered right along with you, scaring you shitless.

He once managed to spook you and watched as jumped far above his head, shredding the wall as you embedded your claws in it.

Your canines are a strange source of serotonin for him. Sharp as a lion's and strong as one too, you've bit the shit out of him a few times while he was admiring them- only a few weren't on purpose.

Once said "Why do they call them canines when you're a cat? Shouldnt they be felines?"

You bit him for that too.

Nikola Tesla ¤

He wants to figure out how you work. So, so bad.

He entered your life by grabbing you none to gently by the tail, hoping to gain insight from your reaction. While he did gain said insight, he also gained four new scratches on his face.

Pestered you for a long time with questions, none of which you answered. Eventually, advice from Buddha led him to setting up a nice dinner for the two of you- him, with a steak, and you, with a variety of fish and cat treats.

You appreciate the thought... you guess.

Always touching and poking you. He doesn't even realize how odly intimate he gets; holding your hand and playing with your fingers is just him studying how your claws extend. Trailing his fingers down your back is him trying trying to figure out if your tail connects to your spine or your ass. Massaging your ears? Ur, well... he hasn't come up with scientific reasoning for that yet, but he will!

(His excuse is that purring has been proved relaxing for humans, and wants to see if it still works with you. Doesn't know he could have asked Poseidon 🤦🏾‍♀️👀)

Adores when you loaf on him, or "bake bread". He finds the semi-human equivalent of these cat behaviors to be extraordinary, and asks you dozens of "why?" And "how?" questions. When he asks too many, you stop, and don't continue until he promises to be quiet.

--------

A/N: I'm literally a comedic genius guys. Not proofread!

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok x reader #poseidon snv #poseidon x reader #ror poseidon #buddha ror #buddha x reader #buddha snv #nikola tesla #nikola tesla x reader #Nikola tesla ror #nikola tesla snv

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ignoremyworld · 3 months

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Mute!eddie and interpreter!steve

Eddie finally got off his shift at the mechanic and went to this little bakery next to his shop. Walking in he could smell the fresh bread and pastries. Looking behind the counter he saw the absolute drop dead gorgeous man he’s ever laid his eyes on. Walking up to the counter the man saw him and walked over.

“Welcome in! What can I get for you?” Reading his name tag, Steve, said.

Eddie brings his phone out and typed something into his notes app

‘Can I get a loaf of sourdough and a few croissants?’

Steve looks at the phone and then back up at Eddie and signs

‘I know sign so there’s no need to type. I’ll get that out for you’

Eddie smiles, pays and walks to a table to sit and relax.

“Robin, robin, look. He’s the guy I was telling you about” Steve calls.

Curious Eddie looks over to see Steve talking to what he assumes is a coworker of his. Robin.

“He doesn’t seem that attractive to me.” Robin says, eyeing Eddie up and down.

“That’s because you’re a lesbian rob. I however appreciate men in their beauty. Especially ones that beautiful” steve looks over and waves.

Putting his hair over his face to try to hide his blush he waves back.

“Im gonna put my number in the bag so maybe he’ll call me” steve giggles.

A few minutes later steve comes up to Eddie to tell him his order is all packed up and ready to go.

‘Hi! Your order is ready and it’s right over there’ he signs smiling.

Eddie smiles back and walks up to get the bag. Before he leaves he turns to steve and signs ‘I heard what you said cutie, I’m mute, not deaf. I’ll definitely call you later handsome’

Steve, wide eyed, freezes. His face is red as he watches Eddie leave the store and get in his car.

“Nice job steve-o, finally got yourself a date” Robin says, elbowing steve in the side.

Steve smiles and says “yeah. A date.”

Sorry if this is a bit shit I’m still learning to write. If anyone has any advice I’m all ears! :3

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #steddie #stranger things #eddie #steve harrington #steve stranger things #stevexeddie #modern stranger things #new writers on tumblr #new writer

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slothgiirl · 2 years

Text

an understanding

morpheus x reader. 5k. no use of y/n. yearning. the only thing i know about video game development comes from mythic quest. dont feed ducks bread (its bad for them) morpheus.

“You know feeding ducks bread is bad for them right,” you pointedly tell the stranger in black. The man was wearing 30 layers of black under the midday sun. You had no clue how he could bear wearing a wool coat in this heat. Sweat was already gathering around your forehead and you were in a gauzy shirt.

“Oh.” His voice was deep, an alluring quality that would’ve made him a perfect audiobook narrator. He doesn’t look up, still hunched over his loaf of french bread: the good kind that was made fresh in store at some local bakery.

“Mind if I sit here?” You didn’t want to sit on the grass. Lugging a towel on top of your laptop and bag was bad enough so you were really hoping for a bench, even one with no shade. It was just too nice of a day to spend working indoors.

He doesn’t respond. Tearing another piece of bread, he pops it into his mouth, finally looking up, looking out at the park contemplatively.

You decide that it’s okay. He didn’t say no.

He was obviously incredibly awkward or maybe didn’t get out much judging by his pasty skin. It was rather unfortunate too. Now that you’d gotten a good look at him he was cute in a way that would’ve thrilled you at twelve when you were wearing studded belts and obsessed with Mary Shelley and Trent Reznor. His hair was a hopeless mess: it’s color so black it seemed to destroy any sunlight that shone on him.

Too bad he was about as interesting as a pet rock.

Even the beta testers who were chronically online, still figuring out women at the ripe old age of twenty six (which you understood as your dating life was no better and all your hopes rested on Hinge) were livelier to talk to.

You were probably being too hard on him, you thought as you opened up the company issue computer. It was the fancy type that bent completely backwards. There were so many dialogue trees to work through. So many paths.

Sitting cross legged on the bench, you get back to work and try not to think about the man on the other end of the bench.

He managed to make eating bread an incredibly depressing act; gaunt as he was, with a forlorn expression in his clear blue eyes.

Clearly the guy was going through something.

Refocusing on your work, you turn up the screen brightness and pull up your saved files for Project: Dracul City.

There were notes.

Bottle: get sent to old lady Constancia and gain +1 luck token

Newspaper: uncover school turned shelter LORE

Right.

“Thirsty now, are we dearie,” you utter under your breath. You worked best like this, saying the lines out loud. At the office, no one batted an eye, but you’d gotten plenty of looks at cafes.

No. That was too fairytale-esque. This was more survival horror. The words rich and velvet were also on the moodboard.

“A bottle of wine to soften the blow eh?” You frowned. It sounded too young, too flirty. Old Lady Constancia ran a black market shop in the game.

“Well then, a bit of liquor for the road? Better than anything in the tavern.”

Again, it was wrong. The wrong feel for the setting.

“No need to ask how your night is going then.” There. You grin a little, reading over the dialogue tree that led here, skimming over Lady Constancia’s lines. There’d be no voice actors for this so the diction would have a lot to convey.

“What.”

“Huh,” you look up from your screen. You’d completely forgotten you were sharing the bench, speaking too loudly.

“You were saying.” The man looks over at you for the first time. His gaze is no longer distant as he studies you. It was obvious you held his full attention in spite of how cold his demeanor was.

“Nothing,” you laugh nervously, “I just-it’s something I do while working. Say what I’m writing to see if it makes sense. It’s a really good trick for dialogue. Sometimes what sounds good in my head sounds really awful to my ears. It was advice I got years ago in school. Really fucking helpful though.”

“You are a writer?”

“Ha, I wish,” you scrunch your nose feeling yourself blush. “Well, sometimes. I don’t know. I always wanted to work in video games and thought writing for them would be cool. And yeah, every now and then I think I’ve got a novel in me but I like my job. Sure-I’m not lead in anything yet but it’s fun to flesh out these characters and help build a world where people can escape into. Just look at early fallout, Kentucky Route Zero’s a really good one. . .” Your own sincerity embarrassed you. “I know,” you look down at your screen, the blinking | waiting for your next words, “most people play to blow things up and kill lines of code but, I really do think it means something to people. Give them a world to play in, create, dream. . .yeah.” God you rambling so bad. “I can stop if it bothers you?”

There’s the slightest hint of interest in the subtle relaxation of his expression, “Not at all,” he replies, putting aside the bread he had left, “There is nothing frivolous in striving to inspire people.”

His words catch you off guard. He’d been so distant before, you were expecting a brush off. “Well maybe this line won’t impact someone but you never know what characters players latch onto.” Mariska Lutz’s tapes haunted you for months after playing Bioshock for the first time.

The man does not reply again, watching the ducks hop into the murky water.

You return to your work, making an effort to keep your mumblings quiet.

It’s not until the battery low notification pops up on your screen that you look up again, shutting your laptop and stretching your legs out. Your left foot tingles hellishly, having fallen asleep.

You look over, only to find that the man had left without a word, without making a sound. It was unsurprising. When you worked you got tunnel vision. That was the reason your pot of pinto beans had burned before. No enfrijoladas for you that day.

Well, he had certainly been a character.

*****

You escape a hectic office where you’d spent the past week during crunch time as the demo went live, a short teaser of the gameplay for corporate who would never even play the game but wanted to see evidence that money would be made when the game released in time for October aka when everyone would be over school and the spooky month would fit the game’s design. You’d brought a tote bag with your lunch and snacks from the office. Nothing hit the same as lays with salsa valentina though you would like to know who kept using your bottle. You’d labelled it. As a last resort you’d taken to stashing it in your desk when you knew you’d be working from home.

July.

Kids were chasing the poor ducks back into the pond. A woman in leopard print roller skates took on hills like a pro.

You liked the warmth of sunlight on your skin.

You still wore sunscreen though.

It’s Thursday but the park is packed. You try to look for any spot that has some shade, an open seat so you can enjoy a hard earned lunch. Your fingers have cramped from all the typing you’ve done in the last few days. You haven’t checked in the mirror but you feel like roadkill.

It was about three in the morning when you’d started using eye drops to keep going, but the meeting was happening. You’d done everything you could for your team.

No luck.

The moms were out in full force today, phone in hand as their kids ran wild.

Then-

You spot the same man from your last visit to this particular park. He looks the same, only his coat is longer. It was like he was trying to get heat stroke.

Well, the trick to adulthood was just going for it. Sharing a bench wasn’t the end of the world.

You walk over.

“Hello again,” you wave, “mind if I sit here?” You could always keep looking. There was plenty of time before you had to rush back to work.

“No.”

You plop down, leaving space for not only Jesus but all his homeboys too. “Thanks. I feel like everyone keeps having the same idea as me, but I guess it’s summer and unless you take the ferry west we don’t have the best beaches.” You open the bag of chips and liberally pour salsa on them, “want one?”

You hold out the bag, offering up your snacks to the man. He seemed less morose than last time, but was for sure managing to sulk under clear skies.

He doesn’t acknowledge you. Instead he reaches into a white paper bag and slowly grabs a pinchful of birdseed to toss over to the ducks.

You’re left holding the bag of chips long enough for it to be awkward before you shrug and dig in, sucking the salt and salsa from your fingertips.

This is why you’ll never have a flat stomach. Five minute abs workouts from tiktok were not enough and you sure as hell were not giving up gansitos. There were some in your freezer waiting alongside a pint of ben and jerry’s.

“You got birdseed,” you note, amused. He had been listening to you. A thrill of excitement bubbles up in your chest.

He nods, the motion small.

Your companion was not an expressive man.

“No fat pigeons,” he states neutrally.

You’re puzzled but shrug it off. “I’ve heard you can feed them oatmeal. But I’d probably double check that.”

Finishing your tiny chip back, you fold it up neatly into a square and pop it back into your tote bag until you can toss it into the trash. Your actual lunch was a cold tomato and fresh mozzarella pasta.

Nothing exciting.

You’d been at the office for practically a week, only going home to have a quick shower and pick up food. You were overtired. Food was fuel. You’d treat yourself tomorrow to breakfast at your favorite cafe.

You idly eat as people bike by.

It could use some more sauce.

Your melancolic acquaintance continues to feed the ducks, lost in his own thoughts.

You stab a grape tomato, deciding to make conversation because what was there to lose. “I didn’t catch your name last time.” Last time, ha. You were really going on like there would be a next time. What was the chance you’d see him again? There’d been students in your same major you’d never shared a class with.

The question hangs in the air.

You chew the tomato, the juice spilling out into your mouth. It was tart.

You didn’t think he’d reply and were already considering fleeing. You could finish eating at your desk.

“Morpheus.”

“Morpheus,” you repeat so you don’t forget, “like the Greek god of sleep?” At least, you think he was the Greek god of sleep. It had been a while, he might have been a mythic hero.

“Of dreams,” he pauses, turning to you, his clear eyes peering into yours intensely, “and sleep. Yes.”

It’s only polite to introduce yourself properly now. You wipe the corners of your mouth clean and reply, “Nice to meet you Morpheus,” feeling silly and giddy (flip flopping between the two similar states) as you give him your name.

Blandly he states, “We have met before.” But with his attention on you, you catch the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. The corners of his small mouth twitch in the ghost of a smile.

“All the same,” you beam at Morpheus, and finish your long lunch in quiet companionship.

*****

When you’re exhausted, you don’t even dream. Depending on whatever game you are working on, there’s weeks when you’re so mentally drained that you don’t even get under the covers before you’re out like a light.

You’re pretty sure this is a dream. Your mind rested enough to dream.

It’s usually in the middle of the dream, in the middle of the scenery changing from a party in your grandmother’s house where a bird offers you a peach to you sitting on a trampoline that you remember from summer days at your childhood friend’s house before the trampoline broke and sent you both to the ER where you only had scratches only your friend isn’t there but a programer from your internship and hey maybe this was sign from your subconsciousness that you should text her-

You let out a breath.

The sky turns pink.

Yup, this was a dream.

You lean into it, letting it happen around you, letting your mind wander as the trampoline bounces lightly with Nina’s movements. It jolts your body, your brain swings around in your skull pleasantly like being in those massage chairs.

A breeze runs over your cheeks.

You look at the blue of the trampoline border. Blue like the waters in instagram pictures. Blue-

The black trampoline washes away into dark waves and your favorite aunt lays in an innertube sipping on a cocktail, “I’m really glad we came to Hawai’i.”

“Me too. Though I’m still waiting to see a mermaid.”

“It’s great. I’m glad Lady Gaga approved the highway from San Diego to Hawai’i.”

“And we got to see those sea dragons!”

“Exactly!”

You feel something by your leg and stick your head underwater. The water is so clear, you can see everything around you, including the dolphins swimming around you, leading you somewhere. Minecraft dolphins. You grab onto it’s fin, wondering where they want to lead you. Atlantis? Too see a mermaid.

From under the water you tell your aunt, “I’ll be right back!”

“Yeah-”

And your alarm goes off. Your dream rapidly fades as you wipe the sleep from your eyes and blindly grasp around your nightstand for your phone. “Shut up!” The alarm was so annoying. Shrill ringing in your ears when all you wanted to do was go back to sleep.

You send Nina a heart emoji on discord, followed by let’s grab some shaved ice.

Then, you flop back on your bed and doom scroll for a few minutes before you have to sign in on Slack.

*****

It becomes a habit.

Even as the weather takes a turn as fall sets in, you try and make it out to the park once a week, and without fail Morpheus is there. He’s not always feeding the ducks. But he’s always there and always leaves without saying a word.

You’re not offended when he barely acknowledges your wave as you sit down next to him. That was just what he was like. Morpheus suffered from perpetual resting bitch face because of his pouty mouth. You’d yet to see him smile.

It didn’t matter. You liked his presence. You enjoyed having company as you got fresh air.

He listened but rarely had much of a reply.

“It’s nice to go into the office and touch base with the other writers,” you muse, sipping at your drink, “make sure everything is coherent and I guess it helps to talk to people who are also living with this whole world in their head. It helps. The entire story’s been fleshed out by James, our lead.” You let the words hang in the air. Working from home was nice too. It lets you wake up at noon and crawl down the rabbit hole of your own imagination until three in the morning.

Morpheus’ tilts towards you as he continues to watch the wind sweep through the trees. A trio of teenage girls had brought an entire charcuterie board and flowers for their park day.

“Not to mention James does have to sign off on my work. I’m still pretty low on the totem pole.” This was your first full time gig out of school. Not an internship with terrible pay and long hours or freelance, but an honest to god full time job with benefits and pay that meant you could finally rent your own studio apartment. “Do you game?”

“No.”

You glance at him in profile. He remained as pale as the first time you’d seen him, but the gauntness in his cheeks had receded. There’s lines under his eyes that led you to believe he was closer to forty than your late twenties, closing in on the big 30. The Cut loved to post how everything changed at thirty.

“It’s fun. I didn’t really get into them until high school but that was only because my parents bought into the whole video games cause violence schtick but like, I wanted to play pokemon not Call of Duty, at least when I was nine.” You smile, thinking back on fond memories, “then I started going over to Michael’s house after school and we’d play Zelda and Fallout. His parents were complete nerds who knew Klingon so they were cool about us playing whatever they were also playing.” Your parents would not have approved of Left 4 Dead.

“I will take your word for it,” Morpheus tells you, sitting back against the bench.

You sip your tea. It’s still warm enough that the ice is melting away, watering down the taro flavor. “Or you could come over sometime and play Stardew Valley?” You pick a tree and stare at it. You were nervous about his reaction. But it had been weeks. At some point you had to make plans and grab a burger or a drink. That’s just what friends did and if you left it up to Morpheus it would probably take a year. That’s all. It had nothing to do with how your heart sped up the moment you spotted his familiar head of hair in the park. It had nothing to do with the anticipation that had you smiling like a fool on Wednesdays when you routinely went to the park.

He doesn’t respond, his expression dour.

After a beat of silence, you find it within yourself to look at him.

Morpheus meets your searching gaze with his own. You could see the emotions playing out in his blue eyes, but you could not read them. Like the eyes of a bird of prey, you could see the intelligence, the life and consciousness within, but lacked the ability to understand them the way you could read other people.

The corners of his mouth lift, his smile a precious thing you couldn’t turn away if you wanted to. “Perhaps,” he allows. “Once the image of an avenging Mina Harker fills the minds of dreamers around the world.”

Smiling softly you reply, “Only if it’s successful.” You could never be sure with indie games.

“It will be,” Morpheus states.

“I try not to focus too hard on what happens after it’s released and out of my hands. What will be will be.”

He nods.

You finish your tea.

It was a lovely day. The August sun was not so harsh after four. There were less people as families planned for a return to school. The tourists stopped visiting the Northwest in droves.

And maybe Morpheus would come over.

That was more than you’d had yesterday.

You could even show him the demo of-

You bite your lip, trying to think if you had let anything slip about Project: Dracul City. Developing games came with a strict gag order. Nothing could leak before it’s time, not the gameplay or plot or any of the concept art. Usually, you were pretty good about keeping quiet.

Surely you hadn’t told him.

And yet he’d known.

You frown.

“Do you wish to feed the ducks as well?”

His words break your line of thought. You hadn’t even noticed the crinkling sound of the paper bag as he opened the birdseed up.

“These ducks must be the most spoiled in all the public parks,” you muse, smiling at Morpheus before grabbing a handful of feed and tossing it lightly into the grass.

It was exciting to see the ducks and birds come over. The shyer animals waited to see if it was safe. They all had their own personalities.

You’re not bothered by his lack of response, the conversation stilling. You’d grown to like his taciturn ways. It gave what he did say more weight. He wore black like a uniform and over the course of the weeks in which you had been meeting up with him (undiscussed by either of you) he had become beautiful in your eyes. You wanted to run your fingers through his unkempt hair. You wanted to steal away his smiles for yourself: to know you could make such a dour man smile because he couldn’t help himself around you.

You reach for more birdseed only to find that Morpheus had left.

Figures.

*****

Unsuccessfully, you try to wipe away the number written on the cup of hot apple cider, otherwise known as the perfect fall drink as the leaves grew into vibrant array of reds and oranges with the change in seasons as the days grew cold.

The cashier had been nice, but you were only interested in one man.

The sharpie doesn’t budge at all.

You give up trying to get the sharpie off when you spot Morpheus. “Hey I got you a drink since it’s starting to get cold out.” It wasn’t coat season for you yet, but you’d started wearing a sweater while running all over town.

You hold out one of the cups, the one without the number scribbled on it.

His eyes widen, pink lips parting in surprise. But he makes no move to reach for the cup you’re offering.

“It’s apple cider,” you tack on, “warm you right up.”

He blinks.

You roll your eyes, “just take it and say thank you.”

It works. Morpheus nods, taking the cup from you, his fingers cool when they brush against your skin. “This was not necessary.”

“I know,” you say, plopping down next to him. “But I wanted to.”

“Thank you,” he inclines his head toward you. The sincerity in his voice is clear as a bell.

Heat blooms on your cheeks. “You're welcome.” Again, you smile at him as you take a sip of your cup, “I can’t wait until the street vendors start having roasted chestnuts.”

“You enjoy winter.”

“Yeah. Some of it,” you laugh, “The snow can get annoying at times but more and more I find myself taking the time to enjoy the little things. It’s not like I’m working towards getting into college, getting a degree or anything anymore. I’m just enjoying life, yeah?” You flush. In your head it sounded wise, but out loud you just sounded naive.

“My sister shares your thoughts.”

You arch a brow, “you have a sister! Older or younger?”

With a slight smile, Morpheus answers, “older.” He must be fond of her.

“Well she’s right. It’s hard at first. I’d pick up flowers for myself and then think about what a waste of money they were but why not. I like having flowers. Or I’d make up excuses not to go out with my coworkers to stay in but if you do that enough times they’ll stop inviting you and you fall into a rut and that’s no way to live. And some people are so different outside of work.” The older you get, the easier being content becomes.

Stop and smell the roses indeed.

Then you ask him, deviating from your unspoken plans, “do you want to walk around?”

“If you wish to.”

“I do, but we don’t have to.”

Morpheus stands, and you take that for the answer that it is.

******

The grass tickles your calves as you wander through the meadow. The sun paints the sky in hues of orange as it sinks below the treeline.

It’s lucky it’s not raining.

On your first trip to this national park, it had rained the entire time. Not surprising. Rain was a constant companion in this city, but it was more than worth it when you got this lovely meadow all to yourself. Wildflowers were sprinkled throughout the grass.

You’d always wanted to come back, splurge on the fancy lodge instead of being in a tent and hoping the rain wouldn’t get through the plastic. Plans to come-

You blink, looking around slowly.

Was this a dream?

You try to string your thoughts together: trying to remember how you got here. It was fall. Not spring. It’s hard, your brain feels like it's sinking into a thick comforter, the way it always feels when you’re on the border of deep sleep.

Taking in the scenery, the solace, you let your train of thought dissolve and you give into the nonsensical logic of dreams, letting yourself fall back into deep sleep.

It’s lovely.

You sit down in the grass as the leaves take flight, butterflies in the air twirling in constellations before settling back down in the branches. These trees were unmatched by anything you’d seen before. It only made you wish to see more, go to more places.

“You are fond of the natural world.”

Turning, you find Morpheus sitting next to you. His long coat is no longer black but a starry night. Stars twinkle in the depth of the fabric as you take him in with wide eyes.

“Morpheus,” you’re delighted to see him.

And because this is a dream, you don’t hesitate to reach out, crossing boundaries without a thought, you brush your fingers over his shoulder, half expecting your hand to go right through and slide into an abyss of night. That doesn’t happen.

Sheepishly, you meet his gaze.

His eyes are black unfathomless pits with a sole pinprick of light for a pupil. At this, you draw back.

Morpheus says nothing, regarding you carefully.

You blink.

And when you can bear to meet his waiting gaze again, his eyes are clear as ever. It must have been a trick of the light.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” you note lamely. The national park wasn’t exactly close.

“I have business to contend with,” Morpheus replies, which leaves you with more questions than answers. You didn’t even know what he did for work. “We will not be able to meet in the Waking world for some time.”

“Oh,” you answer, crushed. It was ridiculous to feel so intensely about someone who was the equivalent of a classroom friend. You didn’t even have his number. Lin, your coworker, would call that a red flag.

His words sink in and, “the waking world?” Now you’re just confused.

His brow furrows with concern. “We are in The Dreaming.”

“I don’t understand.”

Morpheus frowns. “This a dream, your dream.” The sky goes periwinkle as snow starts falling. “And I am King of Dreams, Ruler of the Nightmare Realms.”

“Oh,” you go, “should I bow or something?”

Your words elicit a rare smile from the dour man.

It made your smile grow, to know that you had made him smile.

“There is no need,” the small smile stays on his pink lips.

“No off with her head” you joke, accepting dream logic and not questioning it as you quote the Queen of Hearts.

Morpheus frowns. “I would not be so crude.”

“Oh so I should be worried,” you wiggle your brows.

“Not of me.” He utters softly, his eyes become glassy. “Not while you are under my protection.” Morpheus reaches for you. The back of his hand ghosts over your cheek.

You lean into his touch without a thought.

You meet his gaze unabashed.

He blinks slowly, peering at you through dark lashes. There was a sedate romance to him that the Brontë sisters could only dream of.

“I cannot stay,” he confesses with remorse.

“You did say you had stuff to do.”

“I do.”

His hand is soft against your cheek. Neither of you move, resting in the moment, holding the pause for as long as possible.

Morpheus draws away, standing. Snow falls around you but the temperature remains pleasant. Snowflakes fall on your arms and do not melt.

You stand.

It’s the awkward point where you’re waiting for him to leave but don’t want him to leave and he’s dragging it out too. You’ve been through this plenty of times on friends' doorsteps as you chat and say goodbye and wait.

He stuffs his hands in his coat. It touches the ground, melting away the snow around the hem with its soft red flames, more ember than anything.

Morpheus makes no move to leave.

You wait, taking in the sight of him. Snowflakes fall in his unbrushed hair.

“Here,” Morpheus draws something from his pocket.

“Oh.”

He drops it in your outstretched palm without ceremony. Morpheus looks away as you study the object.

It’s a necklace. The chain is simple gold. It’s the pendant that catches your eye.

Encased in glass are grains of sand. They swirl inside the glass on their own.

“Thank you,” you look over at him.

Morpheus nods slightly. “It allows you to enter The Dreaming at will.”

“A standing invitation then,” you wink.

“Yes.” He has a talent for filling words with a weight beyond their common vernacular. Morpheus’ gaze is heavy on you.

You can’t parse out why this is so important, but it obviously is for him.

You unlock the clasp, wrapping the chain around your neck. With your fingertips, you try to lock it. The clasp is impossible when you cannot see it.

The hairs at your nape get in the way.

“Allow me.” Morphues closes the distance between you.

“Yeah, that would be great.”

He takes the chain from you, his fingers brushing against the back of your neck. He works swiftly, making quick work of it.

The pendant hangs in the middle of your chest.

Your heartbeat is hummingbird quick.

Morpheus’s breath tickles your nape.

You don’t dare move, fearing this is all a dream that will end if you do anything.

“I shall be expecting you.”

“I’ll be sure not to disappoint. Though it’s about to be crunch time and I’m not looking forward to-”

His actions cut you off.

Morpheus leans forward, his lips brushing against your neck chastely.

You draw in a breath.

The moment is over in the blink of an eye.

Something witty, sure to ruin the moment, is on the tip of your tongue as you turn, looking over your shoulder. But he’s gone.

****

The sand continues to swirl, defying gravity inside the pendant, when you wake.

You play with it as you scroll through files, read through work emails, and desperately try to recall the details of your dream.

You’ve never been more excited to sleep in your life.

#morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #morpheus x y/n #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman #an understanding #lmao i love miscommunication as a trope #to morpheus: he explained what he is perfectly #meanwhile readers like: idk whats going on but im into it #unedited as usual

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writethatdown · 11 months

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Sometimes i feel like it's hard to open up to my friends especially to the people i trust the most, I am afraid that one day they will leave me because they think i am too antisocial, weak, etc. And I couldn't help but think what you say to them can be use against you. People would also accuse you for being stupid enough because your always dramatic, knowing that mental health isn't a joke. I am afraid that In the end of the day you will bottle up your feelings until you can no longer hold it and blame everything to the world.

I love your advices by the way, it comforts me everytime..♡

hi dear,

apologies for this very late reply. first of all sending you a big bear hug ♡

it is so difficult to keep your heart soft and your hopes high when world has been continuously evil to you. i see that you might have a group of friends which aren't ideal because needing reassurance once in a while and receiving compliments are something that you absolute deserve and i promise you such people do exist in this world. so right now let me be the one to tell you, i am so proud of you love. and i think you are absolutely amazing of a person.

even if you are struggling to find self love or practicing positive talk towards self, it does not mean that another person has the right to treat you poorly. there might be times when we are easily convinced that it's what i deserve but no love. no matter where you are on your mental health journey, absolutely no other person has the right to cause harm or provide lesser treatment and respect. you are worthy of healthy friendships now. not when you are finally healed, not when you finally start accepting yourself completely, and not when you meet people's expectations.

i know that it's scary to keep being raw with your emotions and character when people take advantage of such things too quickly. but i hope you keep going and avoid the decision to bottle up your feelings to fit in. you already are a precious addition to this world love. and soon enough you will meet people who cherish that as well. i know this might feel like a fantasy we like to dwell in to escape reality, but i hope you take this very tumblr post as a sign that everything is working out for you, just you know...for the sake of it.

love you my friend <3

#shibu said #loaf of advice

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glitterslag · 7 months

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anthroponymy in the bear

Apologies if someone's done this already, but I've been thinking a lot about the names of the characters in The Bear, and how almost nothing in this show is accidental. It's led me to wonder whether the names chosen are also intentional and if they can tell us anything about the characters and their journeys.

Firstly, we have Michael. The name is derived from a Hebrew phrase meaning ‘who is like god’ (often posed as a question). It’s fitting in my opinion. His character certainly is a godlike presence, his influence and love felt but not seen in The Beef. As the eldest sibling, he’s presented as a leader, and Carmy and Richie worship his vision.

There’s a creation aspect with Mikey. He plays god from beyond the grave, literally breathing life into The Bear through the money he stashed in the tomato cans - we have him to thank for its establishment.

The tomatoes remind me of the bible story of the feeding of the five thousand. In this miracle, Jesus is able to feed five thousand hungry people from just a few loaves of bread and a few fish. In ep 1.08, a humble tin of tomatoes - just as much a symbol of modesty as a loaf of bread - is opened to reveal a wad of cash. From this money comes The Bear, which hopefully will go on to feed just as many hungry mouths, if not more!

Interestingly, 'michelin' is a diminutive of 'Michel', an alternate spelling of Michael. I wonder if there's a connection there? Maybe the key to The Bear earning its Michelin star will lie with Michael? A recipe of his, or a piece of advice he gave Carmy? (Sidetracking, but I just think it’s cool!)

Next, we have Carmy, who’s full name is Carmen. I’ve looked at a few sources, and there seem to be a couple of different meanings for his name. The Latin meaning comes from the word for a song or a poem. The Hebrew meaning is garden or vineyard.

‘Song or poem’ to me reflects Carmy’s creative nature, his love of cooking and drawing. ‘Vineyard’ is interesting, considering that Donna is an alcoholic, and that as far as we know, Carmy is either sober or drinks very little.

Carmen is also a gender neutral name. For me, one of the significant themes of the show is masculinity, and how different ideas of masculinity are warring with each other. To me, Mikey and to an extent Richie represent one particular masculine ideal, one that’s maybe a bit toxic. Carmy meanwhile is not painted as the stereotypical masculine guy. Richie often insults Carmy’s masculinity, jeering at his culinary training, being homophobic, making fun of his lack of experience with women.

There’s so much I could say about this dichotomy, even right down to the dishes that are associated with each character. Richie’s idea of The Beef serving ‘food of the working man’. The sandwiches - their red meat fillings. Mikey’s spaghetti, in its simplicity, its earthiness, its history as a staple food of the working class. To me, it’s a masculine, down to earth dish, very at odds with the fancier, more elegant dishes we come to associate Carmy with.

Then we have characters such as Luca and Marcus - both of whom are associated with baking. You don’t have to be a genius to know that baking is seen as a feminine art. Luca and Marcus arguably don’t fit the macho man ideal either - both of them being depicted as a lot more gentle, calm, and creative types.

Next - Sydney. It’s an Old English name, and there are a few different interpretations of it that I could find. One is ‘wide meadow’ or ‘wide water meadow’.

When Syd breezes into The Beef in ep 1, she’s literally a breath of fresh air. She’s a meadow! Her vision for what the restaurant could be, both in terms of the food served and the way the kitchen could be run (i.e. mutual respect, a smooth chain of command, no psycho bosses) is an idealistic vision, a utopia, a garden of Eden type image.

This brings me to the link with Carmy’s name:

Remember how one of the meanings of Carm’s name was garden? In my opinion, this similarity only reinforces the writer's intentions for us to see Syd and Carmy as kindred spirits. Gardens, meadows… both peaceful, calm, beautiful places. To me, it tells us they’re each other’s peace. It also tells us if they learn how to work together, they can create that ideal vision for the restaurant that they both crave.

Another interpretation of Syd’s name is that it means island or island dweller. This brings to mind the phrase ‘no man is an island’, which to me perfectly summarises her character’s central struggle. The phrase means that humans need each other. We need support, and we can’t do things alone. I think Sydney is shown as someone who can be prone to bottling things up, and maybe finds it difficult to ask for help and to be vulnerable. She’s not shown as having many family and friendship connections, and we see a lot of scenes where she’s alone - eating in restaurants, on the train, cooking at home. In that sense, she is a bit of an island, and I hope we see her become able to rely on others a little more in seasons to come (and hopefully Carmy gets his act together enough for her to trust him to be her support!).

Next up: Jimmy. Short for James, a derivative of the Hebrew Jacob, it means ‘supplanter’. A supplanter means someone who takes the place of something else, like a usurper. Now, in ep 2.06, Jimmy and Donna’s dynamic was a little suspect, and I think a lot of people would agree that we’re supposed to infer something was going on there, with Cicero figuratively and perhaps literally taking the place of Bear senior. My theory is that there was an affair, and that Jimmy is actually Mikey’s father. JAW and Abby Elliott look pretty alike I’d say, while John Bernthal has quite different features. Was this intentional? Who’s to say, but I think there’s definitely a case to be made for there being two different fathers. Equally, Mr Bear could be Mikey’s dad, while Jimmy could be Nat and Carm’s true father - he has their lighter hair and eyes, so who knows!!

In Genesis, Jacob supplants his twin brother by buying his birthright. In the show, Jimmy attempts to buy the restaurant, which of course once belonged to Carmy’s dad. Although the show doesn’t give us the full story of the pair, we gather that Jimmy and Bear Sr. were old friends who were almost more like brothers, until a feud ruined their relationship. Interesting for sure!

Next is Tina. Short for Christina, which means ‘follower of Christ’. Her last name, Marrero, is interesting. Deriving from Spanish, it means stone-breaker or hammer, reflecting her strength of character. She’s a single mother, an immigrant, and has been working in male-dominated kitchens with all these shitty, angry men for years. As far as we know, she was the only woman at The Beef pre-Syd. She dealt with Mikey and Richie’s shit for years. You’d have to be pretty fucking tough.

On the other hand, T is so warm and kind underneath it all and seems able to penetrate through the other character’s exteriors relatively easily - Richie, Carmy, Ebra, Syd. They can all be pretty grumpy, but they all have SUCH a soft spot for Tina and only Tina. She’s the stone breaker to their stony surface! 💖🥰💖🥰

Okay those are the main ones I wanted to talk about, but here’s a few more in brief:

Richie: short for Richard, which means strong or brave ruler/leader. In the final episode, we see Richie leading expo and doing a great job. He’s finally living up to his name - literally finding his purpose.

Donna: means lady in Italian. Madonna, or ‘my lady’ is another name for Mary, Jesus’ mother. The ‘mother of victory’ referenced in the prayer that Carm, Nat and Richie say before the soft open is the same Mary. Whilst Donna definitely doesn’t share many characteristics with Mary, I think the comparison is useful in showing the bear kids’ conflicting view of their mother. They of course still love her and crave her love and her blessing for the restaurant in return.

Natalie: means ‘birth of the lord’, literally, ‘Christmas’. There could be a connection here to the Fishes episode, which takes place on Christmas.

Pete: short for Peter, it means rock. When Jesus made the disciple Peter the first Pope, he said, ‘on this rock I build my church’. Pete is Nat’s rock and I think that’s beautiful!!!!!!

Ebra: short for Ebrahim, an alternate spelling of Abraham, which means 'father of many'. He’s a father figure for The Bear!

I know there are a couple I've left out from the main cast, one being Marcus, whose name means 'follower of Mars', the Roman god. I'm still figuring out whether there's a significance there - I'm sure there could be. Maybe I'll do a part two with the rest of the characters!

Anyways I just think it's neat how fitting a lot of the names are... and I really don't think a lot of them were accidental!

Pls feel free to add on and/or correct me if I got anything wrong!

#yeah i'm riddled with catholic guilt for all eternity but at least i can make the bear meta #the bear #the bear meta #sydcarmy #(tagging sydcarmy cause i know the sydcarmy army love the meta)#sydney adamu #carmy berzatto #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white

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seat-safety-switch · 1 year

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As tempting as it is, you can’t discard everyone else’s advice and go it alone. Such is the path to become a frustrated, bitter shell of a human being, frustrated at some complete bullshit that won’t move for you. What our species figured out eons ago is that working together gets things done. Something that has been frustrating you for weeks has been encountered – and defeated – by some other weirdo. Maybe you have some skill or tool they need. When paired up, you can make some really strange shit.

Of course, among project-heavy freaks like myself, it’s difficult to find people to collaborate with. We’re just so busy all the time, due to the bourgeoisie demanding that we serve in spirit-draining jobs instead of eating grapes while reclining nude in the sun. As a result, it can be hard to justify asking someone else to give up their minuscule amount of project time in order to help me with mine.

I did think about starting a “buddies program.” The idea is that, when you’re bored at home and need somewhere to hang out for awhile, you can go hang out with some random person. You’ll pass wrenches, and shoot ideas about how to pull that fucking cockeyed throw-out bearing out. Bread, maybe? Stuff it in there and push it out? Okay, go get a loaf of bread. The downside of this program is the same as it always is, the tragedy of the commons. Even among your wrenching friends, I am certain there is someone who is more of a drain on the available time and resources than they put back in. In my friends group, it’s me. This works out as long as you are friends, and have some kind of common social goal, or at least the others are concerned for your welfare and are trying to keep you from going off on your own and adding nitrous oxide to, say, a zoo elephant. With random, anonymous internet perverts? We’d have a murder on our hands in a week. So that whole idea went in the trash.

So the solution, then, is to make more friends. Friends with weird cars. Friends with interesting lives, and a lot of lived experience. Friends with that cool portable bandsaw I saw on the internet the other day, that thing seems like it would work really well to chop this road sign I stole from outside their house into a skid plate. It is through community that we’ll save ourselves. Just not the community that I stole the road sign from. Those normal people aren’t helping me at all by calling the cops.

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mysteriesmuse · 1 year

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The Quirky Little Lady Next Door

I’m absolutely OBESSED with the idea of Bakugou having a quirky little neighbor. So here’s an absolutely random and spontaneous mess of headcannons

Bakugou himself always insists on living at the top floor. GREAT VIEW, GETS HIS STEPS IN, AND NO NEIGHBORS STOMPING ON HIS CEILING. 👏 rip to everyone who lives below him tho seriously

you’re the only other person around his age on the floor and you’re the most normal of the bunch. Seriously y’all deserve a reality TV Show up here on the 19th floor.

Y’all’s most notable floor mates being a retired grandmother, a newly wed couple, your staple office worker hippy man, an ex-boxer, a librarian, an eccentric recluse of a professor who teachers online. Along with serveral young families with children who love to run around the halls.

Bakugou gets used to it and truly love/hates it up here. 🖤

although he finds himself running into you much more than he’d like at first. you turn out to run on much the same internal clock as he does. Early bird.

you move into the empty apartment next door to him. and therefore you share the apartment balcony with him.

Bakugou never used to go out there

but now you’re out every morning cradling a cup of steaming tea, every weekend you take to the plants in their pots and you always pad over to his sliding door and knock, and shout, and pout about him picking your herbs or tomatoes . . . Katsuki used to just shrug and feign innocence until he started to enjoy seeing your squished up angry face outside his door. Now he gives you a devishly handsome grin before nodding and letting you in to share the delicious meal he’s made with herbs fresh from your garden.

Now Katsuki leaves his balcony door unlocked so you can feel free to let yourself in. Whether that be to share dinner he’s made, to drop off half a freshly baked loaf or bread or plate of extra sweets, or even when you come in screaming and spluttering in your bath robe about some vermin in your bathroom. (The later happens a lot. Both of you two still can’t figure out how these critters get up to the 19th floor like this)

loves to come home in the evenings from patrol and see you out there with your little blue light glasses doing work or occasionally taking an animated phone call to a friend. PS Katsuki has since dragged a foldable beach hair out there to bask in your presence

Bakugou has also learned how active you are. He quickly caught on to your early morning jogs at the local park near the building. Now Katsuki makes the effort to “walk out” the door the same time as you do. you always greet him with a surprised chirp when he starts walking out the building with you clad in his blank tank and cargo pants getting ready for his early morning shift at work. 🌤️🌷

Katsuki hates forgetting things, but loves when he runs out to get something he forgot at the grocery store only to see you chatting with the giggling kids in the hallway.

he wonders if you’d like kids?? U seem so good with them; the little ones that totter around chasing after the older siblings? Got him clutching his peck the way you squat down and offer a hand to help them back up into the game of chase or whatever the heck the whirlwind-of-shrieking-kids-in-the-hallway-game is?? U even do well with the teens. Even the bristling goth teen seems to make eye contact under their thick bangs and gives u a shaky lopsided grin. (he knows you’re good when you start giving them advice about how to prepare for college)

And damn it when the parents of the floor ask everyone who’s participating in Halloween so they know who’s doors to knock on for trick-or-treating he can’t help it. not when you beam and tell him that he wouldn’t even have to get a costume bc he’s already a real-life hero.

So mans probs shouts yes.

and Katsuki would normally hate being bothered to fix sinks or move furniture but he’s absolutely bitting back a grin whenever you nervously send him a text message asking for help

Bakugou almost always responds as fast as he’s able to and always show up in some tight fitting shirt to show off his muscles . . . as if he needed to impress you 💪🙄

and when he steps foot into your place it’s even more you than he thought from the goofy little paw print floor mat on the outside of your place.

it’s big and bright and bold and oh so color coordinating. there’s colorful throw pillows, and a cozy little bookshelf. And you’ve got dozens of trailing plants hung up on your curtain rods. And a sleek but childish Lego coffee table. And a step-stool in your kitchen, which you always use to fetch the instructions for the sink.

And everything is shining from the light hitting the disco ball in the center of your living room. It casts such an alluring light into your beautiful eyes everytime he steps foot into your place 🪩💖

it’s all so much more than his apartment. maybe you’d like decorating a larger space, an actual home? He’d buy you one in a heartbeat let you choose how to style the whole thing.

heck he even loves your bathroom. It looks so much more luxurious than his with the plush bath mats, even tho they’re identical twins of each other. trust me, Bakugou know bc he always hears you talking to the shampoo bottles in your bath abt your day when he walks in to take he shower after patrol . . .

but Kats is also a gentlemen despite his brash exterior and he’ll always dunk his head under the spray so fast that’s he just catches your mumbling tones

also loves the excited bounce you do when you come home to find a package at the door

or the first Wednesday of the month. Smt abt your show bc you always refuse the dinner offer at his place. . . luckily he’ll just show up with an extra at your balcony door. And it’s one evening when he rasps on your door that you drag him into the house by the hand and violently shush him as you shove him into place next to you on your couch.

or his favorite is when you got the pro being like :o when you absent mindedly snuggle yourself up next to his beefy arm after a news report with particularly big villain and tall glass of wine later it’s not like you missed him or were worried. nah nothing like that for sure . . . 🫶

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki imagine #katsuki bakugou #mha fanfiction #bakugou headcanons #pro hero katsuki #bakugou drabble #pro hero dynamight #they were neighbors #i love this #I wanna redecorate my room so bad #also this is just like my ideal life honestly like #your honour im in love

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blueberrypancakesworld · 4 months

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Dating Tigris - Headcanon

warning : fluff, hurt/comfort, kissing, no use of Y/n

Info : I needed to write something for sweet Tigris and I will write more for her because she is hust so ahh, she is just everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

°She insists on sewing clothes for you whether it's a new dress for summer, a shirt for fall or leg warmers for winter. Tigris just loves to dress you up, use you for inspiration or look at you with a happy smile on her lips.

°In turn, she will be even happier and more fascinated if you are good at something other than sewing. She would love to taste any cakes and muffins when you bake, she would model when you paint just to be happy when she can wear her new clothes.

°During work you spend your lunch breaks together, she shows you what she has sewn and asks you for advice on new drawings and which colors go best together. While you practically have to stuff a loaf of bread in her mouth to get her to eat or give her a berry she loves because of its sweetness and pink color.

°When she has free time, it's long walks through the city or trips to the various districts she would like to see. She knows that it is "officially" dangerous, but nature, the outdoors and life inspire her. She takes your hand and can't stop being amazed.

°Another side of her that you will slowly discover is dancing. Tigris likes to listen to music while tailoring and when she has finished a piece she dances around the house from time to time. She dances into you, which soon leads to either a slow partner dance or a dance full of laughter and merriment as you twirl around and dance to the beat.

°But not every day is happy, there are days when she doesn't grieve a little for the loss of her family. It was her grief for her cousin Coriolanus Snow. Since he had changed into the image of his father, he had grown more and more distant from her. Something that hurt the blonde more than anything.

°Some days it made her cry and you would take her in your arms. Her hands clasped and Tigris snuggled up to them, an embrace that needed a long, intimate hug before she gave you grateful kisses herself. Cuddling under a warm knitted blanket, you drink a warm milk and just be there for each other.

°,,Thank you, my heart," she murmurs, resting her head on your shoulder again and gently stroking your fingers. She loves to feel your warmth, just to have you with her. The love and security after all the pain.

°Nicknames she would use for you would be: heart, sweetheart, muse. Names she consciously uses to make her partner feel loved and appreciated. In turn, when you call Tigris a nickname she is embarrassed and gets slightly red cheeks but secretly loves it.

#tbosas #tbosas movie #tigris snow #hunter schafer #tigris snow x reader

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itsawhumpsideblog · 2 months

Text

The Safehouse, pt. 15

CW: for institutionalized slavery, mentions of abuse, treatment of people as things, description of injuries

Advice from the Box Boy Liberation Movement

During the rescuee's first days and weeks in a Safehouse, much of the staff's time will be spent helping them with the most basic aspects of their new lives. Rescuees will need to become accustomed to new schedules, the layout of a home, and emerging group norms around eating, chores, how to spend free time, and interpersonal interaction. As they become accustomed to schedules and more comfortable in the presence of other members of the household, rescuees will begin to need additional things to occupy their time. Safehouse staff members are encouraged to find methods of enrichment and entertainment that can help rescuees develop necessary skills, ideally without causing rescuees to feel that they have been given an assignment or are unwelcome to exercise their own will.*

*In the event that rescuees express a desire for more formal education, your BBLM contacts can assist.

After that first busy week, Angie and Tim realized that they would need to find something to do to keep everyone occupied. Nathan was all but confined to bed or the couch, since standing for long and using crutches could be tiring. Francis remained feverish and bore his considerable pain with a sort of quiet dignity, but they reasoned that he must be bored. Worst of all, poor Mikey was still waiting for their contacts to call with a date and time for his medical treatment.

It had been almost two weeks and Tim and Angie were debating the merits of calling their contacts to make a fuss. Without the surgery he needed, Mikey had very limited use of his hands and arms and difficulty doing things for himself. He couldn't eat, dress, or bathe without assistance and it was hard for him to stand up or to kneel (he still would not consent to sit on the furniture, something Francis seemed to be getting accustomed to since learning that they were free.)

Even worse, Nathan reported that Mikey slept fitfully and sometimes had night terrors; this was also how Angie and Tim learned that Francis got out of bed to care for him. It was sweet, they agreed, but they worried that the interrupted rest was harmful to all three of the rescuees, to say nothing of the damage Francis might be doing by standing and walking.

On good days, Mikey held his head up and looked around the room at whatever was going on, smiled, and could look Francis or Nathan in the eye, though he was still shy around Tim and Angie. He even helped with small tasks when he could, like moving pillows to straighten up the living room, or bringing Angie the loaf of bread when she made sandwiches for lunch.

On bad days, however, Mikey dropped to his knees on his pillow, next to Nathan's spot on the couch, and stared at the floor. They could see dark circles under his eyes and he cradled his arms to his chest, holding them protectively. On those days, he could barely eat and they didn't try to force him, beyond making sure that he had enough in his stomach to safely take painkillers. He simply withdrew into himself and rocked back and forth for hours on end, in terrible pain that they were powerless to ease. Sometimes, they could tell that he was crying, noiselessly and without moving, but leaving small wet spots on the front of his shirt.

Angie had her bright idea on a good day, when the painkillers seemed to be helping a little and Mikey knelt on his pillow listening while Francis and Nathan talked quietly. They were discussing the show that was on television- it was the Great British Bake-Off, which Tim and Angie liked to put on to encourage the rescuees to begin having opinions.

It was scary, they had realized, for Francis to tell them what he wanted to eat for breakfast, or for Mikey to pick out his own clothes. But when they put on Bake-Off, it was almost impossible- even for former Pets- not to have an opinion on the bakes. Angie and Tim had gone into the other room to high-five each other the day Francis had observed, very quietly, "Francis doesn't think that Paul Hollywood is going to like that," and then added, very quietly, almost under his breath, "And Francis doesn't like it, either."

Not surprisingly, Nathan was perfectly comfortable being vocal about his opinion on things that didn't really matter and weren't being done by anyone in the house, especially since the bakers would never hear him. Though he also struggled with expressing that he needed something from Tim or Angie specifically, he was happy to share his thoughts on baking and this encouraged the other rescuees. So, Bake-Off became a regular fixture in their routine.

It was during an episode of Bake-Off that Angie noticed Mikey sit up a little straighter and peer curiously at the screen. He turned to Nathan and raised an eyebrow, looking back and forth from the screen to his friend. He cocked his head slightly, the signal that he had a question.

"What are they doing with their hands?" Nathan asked. Mikey nodded.

"That's sign language," he explained. "She's deaf, so that guy is interpreting for her- telling her what everyone else is saying while they say it."

Mikey still looked intrigued. His eyes widened and his eyebrows lifted.

"Yeah, presumably everything," Nathan said. "Are they allowed to leave stuff out?"

"I don't think so," Angie said, without thinking about it. "I think a good interpreter is, like, legally required to interpret everything that's said."

They fell silent again until, after a moment, the idea dawned on Angie like a new day. "Mikey," she exclaimed, forgetting for a moment the calm demeanor she was usually careful to wear in front of the rescuees, so as not to startle them. "You could do that!"

He looked up in her direction, the closest he had come to looking her in the eye.

As the first shock of realization wore off, Angie immediately began to worry that she was being pushy or asking too much, damaged as his own hands were. "I mean, you don't have to. But if we all learned some signs, you might be able to- well, not talk, but..."

Mikey still couldn't look at her, but his eyes were sparkling and there was a definite upward tilt to the corners of his mouth.

"What do you think?" Nathan asked, in case Mikey would be more comfortable having an opinion if it was Nathan he had to communicate with.

Mikey's eyes darted down to his hands, over to the television, and then up to Nathan, one eyebrow raised.

"Yeah," Nathan replied. "Even with your hands. I mean, you could start learning and we'll know what it looks like when you sign something. And then when your hands are better maybe it'll be easier to sign and you'll already know how, a little bit." Mikey thought for a moment, then actually smiled and nodded and Angie could cheerfully have cried.

But she held herself together and they finished the episode- stopping in the middle seemed unkind, as entranced as they all were.

"Think you're ready to start learning?" Angie asked Mikey when the star baker had been announced and the credits had begun to roll. He looked shy and she knew she wasn't going to get a direct response. "Well... let's try it."

It was as simple as searching for a video and picking one that looked like it began at the very beginning. It took them a moment to remember that, of course, there didn't need to be sound in this video, though the enthusiastic young man on camera had provided subtitles for hearing audiences. For Francis' sake, Tim read them aloud while their teacher began the lesson.

By the end of the video, they had all practiced basic greetings and when the next video autoplayed, they let it go. By the time Tim stood up to cook, they had watched the first four videos in the series.

After dinner they didn't go right back to learning, but Mikey continued to practice, moving through his new vocabulary as best he could. When Angie fed him, he signed thank you and when they went upstairs he wished them all good night for the first time.

It was immediately clear that the ability to sign, even painfully and inaccurately, using only his right hand, was important to Mikey. He couldn't seem to get enough of learning and practiced vocabulary as best he could until he was visibly shaking with the effort and they had to turn the videos off to keep him from hurting himself. Even then, he insisted on signing thank you and This pet is grateful whenever anything was done for him.

Angie almost regretted that they had learned the sign "pet" at all, but even though he signed like Francis talked, Mikey almost shone with the pleasure of being able to communicate again. Angie couldn't bring herself to ask what had happened to his voice, knowing that it couldn't be good, and tried to be content instead with the joy that signing brought him.

Not all days were good days, however.

It was a week after they began learning to sign that Mikey tripped- over a spot in the rug, they decided later, nothing that they could have foreseen and fixed. He had simply stepped oddly and lost his balance and went down before Tim or Angie could have gotten across the room to catch him.

He caught himself primarily on his right arm, which was better than the alternative, but he hit the ground full-length and there was a long moment in which all four of his housemates stared at him in horrified shock as he lay stretched across the middle of the room.

Then Angie and Tim finally snapped back to themselves and leapt up to crouch on either side of him. Tim began examining his right arm for signs of additional damage, speaking softly in a voice that he was clearly working to control.

Nathan was almost writhing where he sat, desperate but unable to go to his friend; it was Francis who rose, a little more slowly than Tim and Angie had. His training as a Pet kicked in and he barely winced as he put weight on his feet and walked the few tentative steps to drop to his knees by Mikey's head.

Mikey's eyes were squeezed closed when Francis knelt and smoothed his hand over Mikey's furrowed forehead. Mikey looked like he wanted to cry out, but couldn't. He twisted his head from side to side, cradled in Francis' hands.

"I don't think there's any new damage," Tim said at last. His voice was thin and dry and he looked anxiously across at Angie.

"Good," she said, sounding no better. "But we have to call them. They have to do something."

"Yeah." Tim took a deep breath and turned back to his patient. "But let's get him comfortable. Then you can call and rip somebody a new one." He smiled very thinly at her, with no humor in his face at all.

Their first attempt to help Mikey up failed spectacularly. Tim and Angie slid their arms under his back and began to lift him, as gently as they knew how, but his eyes fluttered and closed and he sagged bonelessly in their arms as he fainted.

The second time, they managed to get him sitting up, propped forward with his legs splayed out in front of him. His eyes were unfocused as if he was very dizzy and he was trembling all over. He had his arms back in that protective position and when he began to rock in his usual self-soothing habit, Francis put a steadying arm around him to keep him from falling over again. Mikey's eyes fluttered as he struggled to stay conscious.

"Straight up to bed, I think," Tim said. "Just get it over with and then let him stay there as long as he needs. It'll be better that way."

On the third attempt, they at last got Mikey swaying to his feet and linked their arms around him to guide him to the stairs. He had his feet under him somewhat by then and although it felt like a longer climb than usual, he was able to support himself.

In the room, Tim and Angie helped Mikey stretch out in bed, propped up with pillows under his elbows to support his arms, which lay across his stomach. They took turns sitting by the bed; they couldn't leave him alone in case there was anything at all he needed. At dinner time, he was unable to eat and simply sat very still, staring blankly across the room. Angie had to make a real effort not to cry; Mikey had been doing so well, even getting a few words back, and now, for the moment, it was as if none of that progress had ever taken place.

She would call someone and make them schedule time for him in the hospital. She would do whatever it took- there had a to be a story they could tell, some lie that would explain why he had no ID and couldn't speak, and the awful injuries they would need to treat...

Later. She would deal with it when Mikey was asleep.

When Francis and Nathan came up to bed, they found Mikey sitting as he had all the rest of that day, looking horribly sick, pale and blank-faced from the suffering he had been trained to endure silently. Nathan limped over to the bed, shuffling as close as he could, and gently ruffled Mikey's hair.

"Sorry, buddy," he whispered. "I'm so sorry." Mikey's eyes flicked in his direction, but his expression did not change and his hands did not move.

Francis, too, was watching Mikey with such sorrow in his eyes that Tim, who was helping him to bed, carried Francis over. Wordlessly, Francis put a hand out and smoothed Mikey's hair, stroking it a few times before nodding to Tim. Tim laid him in bed and pulled the blanket up for him, but all four of them were still watching Mikey.

Once Tim and Angie had done all they could to make Mikey comfortable, he at last closed his eyes and they left the room, pulling the door quietly shut behind them.

"I'm going to make a phone call," Angie said, looking very determined. Tim nodded.

"It's time."

Next time: They finally get the call Mikey has been waiting for, possibly because Angie bullied someone.

Master List

Notes: @whumpsday was kind enough to let me know that a couple of the tags weren't working. Hopefully they're fixed now- at least, when I hover over them, I get the little drop-down that would take me to your blogs, so I'm optimistic? If not and you have any suggestions for what I might be doing wrong, let me know and I'll do my best to correct it!

As Mikey is not d/Deaf, nor is anyone in the Safehouse, he's not familiar with Deaf culture and is more using Signed English than an actual, grammatically correct sign language. His dialogue will be in italics to connote that it's signed, rather than spoken. Pursuant to a little research, this will change as he becomes more fluent and graduates to expressing himself in full sentences. Though cursory research doesn’t turn up total consensus on whether italics are rude, the d/Deaf authors whose advice I found in my google search seem in agreement that ordinary dialogue markers are always fine. To be safe, I’ll go with the option I can most guarantee is polite!

Also, forgetting that signed videos don't need sounds is 100% something that happened in my high school ASL class (not to me). Our teacher said there was someone every year who said they turned the volume all the way up but nothing happened!

Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds, @honeycollectswhump @taterswhump, @starfields08000 @whumpsday, @fruitypinapple00, @currentlyinthesprial

#bbu #box boy universe #box boy whump #whump #whumpee #the safehouse #pet whump

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