#//logged on and ready to do more stuff on here today!

[celestial-toys]

*closes 13 tabs on astrology and greek mythology*

ES Ch.5… is now complete.

[birthanon]

I’m curious if you are going to write any more about births???

If you are I have a few ideas in mind for what you could use for prompts.

yes I do give your consent to use my prompts for your work.

Here is one of them

hidden pregnancy and the person is in a very serious meeting and they are having contractions they have to hide their pregnancy because the boss has a certain image and will fire them if they don’t comply with the guidelines.

P.s. if you do see this post I would love for the character to be male or ftm but it’s up to you 

Hi! Thanks so much for my first ask! I am definitely going to be writing more births. It's how I'm dealing with *gestures at America*. Thanks for this prompt! It kind of took on a life of its own, but I hope you like this little story.

Contains: trans mpreg, birth, extreme birth denial, clothing birth, public laboring, pushing the baby back in (multiple times). All my favorite stuff. Hopefully some of your favorite stuff too! (Story after cut)

Xander groaned, doubling over and clutching his stomach as yet another contraction struck. He’d lost his mucus plug the night before, and had been having contractions come and go throughout the night. Really, he knew the last thing he should be doing was going to work. But there was a very important meeting for a client today, and his boss had assigned him as the lead contact.

The elevator dinged to its destination, and Xander forced himself to straighten. He was already a fairly large man, so his baby bump passed as a beer belly. No one at the office, besides his boss, knew he was trans; and he was pretty sure no one at all knew he was pregnant.

Xander reached his desk and sat down with relief, stretching out his aching back. Just as he logged into his computer, someone tapped at the wall of his cubicle.

“Hello Xander,” his boss said, leaning against the wall. He was dressed immaculately; wavy brown hair, nicely tailored suit, shiny wing-tip shoes, classy golden watch. The man screamed wealth, and knew how to wear it. CEO of a successful tech company at a young age, John Wilson was practically a living embodiment of class. “ Are you ready for your presentation today?”

“I am,” Xander said, forcing a smile. “You can count on me, sir.”

John smiled. “Well then, stand up, give me a twirl.”

This was a normal action—Xander had been hired on as John’s assistant while he was still newly transitioned. One look at Xander’s scruffy facial hair and thrifted suit, and John had made Xander’s fashion choices his personal project. Still, it was harder today to get out of his chair and give the obligatory turn.

“You’ve gained some weight,” John observed. “You might need to make another trip to the tailors. And your packer’s in the wrong place. You look hard. Can’t have you hard in front of our client today. Here, put this on.” He tossed something to Xander, who caught it easily enough.

Xander glanced down at the fabric, and realized after some puzzling, that it was a pack strap. But it was strange. Instead of going around the thighs or sitting just around the waist it looked like some sort of very tight underwear with a hole for his packer. 

Obediently, Xander pocketed the strap and headed to the bathroom. Another strong contraction hit him while he was there, and he breathed hard through the building pressure. Something splattered into the toilet that wasn’t pee—or at least not only pee, and Xander groaned. Of course the baby would chose now of all times to decide to come, instead of last weekend when it was due.

Once the contraction was over, he cleaned up and put on the pack strap. It was very tight around his hips, and pressed firmly against his sensitive parts, but it did indeed manage to hold his packer at a more realistic angle. As he pulled on his boxers and pants and glanced down, he admired how natural it looked. No more bunching up, with this new strap.

Then Xander gasped as another contraction struck. Without the cushioning of his waters, the pain was much more acute. He was left panting as it passed. Not good. But it was his first baby, and a large one. Surely he could get through one more day of work. He didn’t have any more sick days available, not after how hard the morning sickness had got him earlier that year.

He came out of the bathroom, and spent about an hour going over his presentation, breathing through each contraction, feeling the baby slowly stretch him open inside. 

Then the alarm on his phone went off—time for the big meeting.

With a groan Xander got to his feet, bracing his back and shifting his weight carefully. While he’d been sitting and working, things had shifted. It felt almost as though the baby would fall right out of him if he moved wrong. Grabbing his things, he shuffled awkwardly to the meeting room on the next floor.

John was already on the elevator, and held the door open as Xander approached, breathing hard, face slightly red.

“Thanks,” Xander wheezed as he reached the elevator.

“Can’t have you late for the meeting,” John said with a smile. Some amount of alien tenderness came to his eyes. “Are you all right? You are looking a bit peckish.”

Xander’s chest fluttered—partly in fear that his secret would be discovered, partly from the tenderness of the attention. John wasn’t a tender man, not often. He ran a tight ship and expected perfection from his employees, and especially from Xander. But there had been once, about forty-two weeks ago, when they’d gone on a business trip together. John had gotten bad news, and they’d both drunk a lot. Xander had woken up the next morning in bed with a fast asleep John, completely naked, and sore between the legs. Panicked, Xander had quickly left the room and pretended it hadn’t happened. John had seemed too drunk to remember anything the night before and—well that’s why it was so crucial John didn’t find out. Xander had slept with no one else.

“Fine,” Xander replied once he’d gotten his breath back. “Just a bit nervous.”

To combat his assertion, the pain of another contraction wrapped around his belly. As he looked down, trying to breath away the pain, he swore he could see his stomach change shape with the strength of its force. Don’t push, don’t push, don’t push, Xander repeated to himself, pressing his legs close together as John watched.

Luckily, his boss didn’t seem to notice. He just patted Xander on the back, perhaps a bit harder than necessary. “You’ll do fine,” he said, then handed Xander a hanky. “But wipe your face off before you get up there. No need to look nervous. You are one of the most competent employees I have.”

Then the elevator had arrived, and the contraction was still going. Despite Xander’s reluctance to move or spread his feet apart, he had to get out before the elevator closed again. Under John’s careful eye, he took a shaky step out of the elevator. As soon as his legs spread, he could feel his baby’s head shift further down his canal. Forcing his face to casualness, he continued to walk forward as the contraction weakened and his stomach returned to its usual shape.

The client they were meeting with was rich, powerful, and—most importantly—a woman. John had picked Xander because of this last fact, citing Xander’s ability to interact with women without being sexist as a unique skill amongst the men in his business. This seemed a pathetic excuse to Xander, but wasn’t going to complain about the opportunity it gave him. If he succeeded in this, he was almost certainly due for a promotion. Which he needed—babies were expensive.

Stepping forward with a forced smile, Xander introduced himself to the client and to John, as well as a few other people there, and was in turn introduced to the client's team. With great relief, he took his seat as the meeting began. 

He did his best to focus, but his contractions had begun ramping up. It was harder and harder to disobey his body’s command to push, and the baby slipped deeper and deeper down his birth canal. He wrapped his shaking fingers tightly around the underside of the table to stabilize himself, crossed his legs hard enough he crushed his silicon dick between them, and did his best to ignore his body.

His tactics worked well for the first hour of the meeting, but then it was his turn to give a presentation. John and the client looked at him expectantly just as the strongest contraction yet seized his stomach. Xander forced himself to uncross his legs, which had practically glued themselves together with sweat, then slowly he stood. As he did, his core muscles engaged, and that was enough. The baby shot forward, down his canal, and his hole lit on fire.

He bit his lip in order to prevent a whimper of distress, disguising the whole thing by bending over and gathering his stuff until the contraction waned. As he took a step to the lectern, his hips ached, and his legs were forced awkwardly far apart, the bowling ball of a head lodged between them. 

Thus began his presentation, him standing behind the lectern, talking, legs spreading further and further apart as the baby spread his hole apart a bit more with each contraction. When he felt the pain coming, he’d pause his presentation to ask questions of his audience, ask them to talk amongst themselves. It was a bit like school, but it was interactive and kept them awake. Plus it gave him time to work through each contraction without it showing in his voice. For even the fluctuation of pain in his voice would have been a sign of failure in John’s eyes.

Finally, his part of the presentation wrapped up. He gathered his stuff, then waddled back to his chair. As he eased himself into it, he felt the baby’s crowning head press against the cushion, and then get shoved back inside of him. His eyes widened in pain, and he let out a little huff. He stifled it as soon as he noticed, then glanced around.

No one was looking at him, engaged in the next part of the meeting already. Xander sunk carefully back into his seat, his legs spread wide, his belly, much lower now, resting between them. 

As the others talked, he lost himself in the sensation of each contraction coming and going, of his baby stretching his hole little by little. The baby was large, and he couldn’t push much without drawing attention to himself, but still the fire was steadily, gradually increasing.

“Isn’t that right, Xander?”

Xander glanced up from his clasped hands, looking at his boss who’d addressed him. “Of course, sir,” he agreed instinctively, unsure of the context.

“Will the software development team be able to add the AI search feature before launch?” the client asked, likely a second time.

“They certainly could,” Xander replied. “We’ve got a great team, and they really know how to hit deadlines. It wouldn’t be a problem.”

Apparently satisfied, the client turned back to her team, as another contraction increased the fire in his crotch ten-fold.  He was just thinking he was going to have to excuse himself to go to the bathroom, when she reached out her hand. He took hers, and they shook. 

“We look forward to doing business.”

Relief shot through Xander, first because he had succeeded, and second because this hellish meeting was over and he could go back to his cubicle and at least groan through the contractions. There were still two hours left of the work day to get through.

Though he yearned to stay sitting right where he was, manners dictated he stand when she did and escort her from the room. As soon as he stood, gravity yanked the baby down further, and he couldn’t help but gasp at the sudden movement after hours of progress a millimeter at the time.

Luckily, John was talking to the client and she didn’t seem to notice as he hobbled awkwardly after them. They got on the elevator, and Xander waddled bow-legged to the bathroom. As soon as he was there, he stripped his pants, dropped everything, and sat on the toilet seat. A contraction came, and for the first time he pushed. He reached down, feeling the head grow into his palm until the crown filled nearly the whole thing. 

It felt so good to push after so long, to obey the desire of his screaming body. Then the contraction stopped, and horror filled him. He couldn’t give birth, not in the middle of the work day. He’d be fired. So very fired. John would never stand the scandal. 

With shaking hands, he pressed against the baby’s head and began to gently push it back up into his canal. It felt wrong. White hot pain shot through him, and he couldn’t help but cry out. But slowly, surely, his hole closed back around the baby’s head. He’d bought himself a bit more time. 

The new pack strap pressed painfully against his sore, stretched lips. It was stained with blood and birthing fluids, but not enough to soak through to his pants. Exhausted, but steeled for another two hours of work, he washed up, checked himself in the mirror, then headed back down.

John met him as he came out of the elevator, clapping him on the back. “You did very well. Just as I said you would. And I’ve got you a reward. Come with me.”

Xander didn’t want a reward, he wanted to go back to his desk, sit on his comfy chair, and to not give birth in peace. But John wasn’t one who could be denied. So he followed John, who led Xander to a small office. The walls were completely made of glass, giving him a million dollar view of the city below, but also giving John, whose office was next door, a perfectly good view of everything Xander did.

“Thank you, sir,” Xander managed. “I don’t know what—” he trailed off as he noticed the desk’s height. There was no seat in sight. His new desk was a walking desk.

“I noticed your weight gain,” John said. “Thought you might enjoy the exercise while you work. Great job again!” Then he patted Xander on his shoulder, his hand lingering for just a second too long, then he was gone.

Xander stared at the desk, glanced back through the glass walls to see John watching him from his own desk, then back at the desk. His things were already there, on top, waiting. He had no excuse to go back. With a groan, Xander went to his desk, pressing his legs together to keep the baby in, and powered on the computer. Immediately, the wide treadmill began to move, forcing Xander to spread his legs and walk.

His hips ached, and the baby shifted painfully in his hips with each step. His hole burned as it began to emerge once again. Contractions came and went, and God he needed to push, but he couldn’t stop walking or he’d get yanked away from his computer and end up sprawled awkwardly on the floor in front of his hot boss. Just keep walking, Just keep walking, he chanted as the baby moved further and further down.

He tried to work, but he got nothing productive done. Focused only on walking and the burning of his privates, increasing more and more with each step. At the next contraction, the burning increased past what it had before. This is it, Xander thought as he walked, the baby’s going to come out in my pants, right in front of my boss.

But it didn’t. The movement stopped, and as the contraction ended, something forced the baby back to where it had been before the latest contraction. Xander whimpered at the painful, wrong sensation.

The process repeated over and over with each of the following contractions. The packer holder, Xander realized. It was tight enough it was holding the baby in place. 

The two hours passed torturously. The baby sat in a permanent crown between his legs as he waddled awkwardly on the treadmill, unable to stop and push, unable to make any progress. Alone in his office, he at least could whimper and groan as necessary, but he couldn’t get off the treadmill, couldn’t stop and push, without John seeing. And John was always looking.

Finally, five pm rolled around. Xander had been in active labor for seven hours. He was exhausted. Blurry minded, sore everywhere. But he had done it. He would call a cab, go to the hospital, and give birth to his child. 

Not even bothering to gather his stuff he staggered, shaky-legged, out the door. Only to practically run into John. 

“Seems like that exercise did you good,” he noted. 

Xander panted, another contraction striking him. Finally standing still, he couldn’t help but spread his legs slightly, and push. “Just. . .  not. . . used to . .  it,” he panted.

“You did very well today. I’d like to take you out to dinner, to celebrate our new client.”

No, please, Xander thought, eyes widening. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t keep up this charade. The baby had been literally spreading him at his fullest for hours. He couldn’t do a dinner. But one didn’t say no to a dinner with John, not if they valued their job. So Xander nodded, and found himself waddling after John.

“I’ll drive you there, we can come back and pick up your car after,” John said. Xander considered protesting, but John, as the boss, had prime parking, and his own car was parked an intimidating distance away. Plus, he didn’t trust himself to drive in this state. So he agreed. With numb, shaking legs, he staggered after John, collapsing in the car.

It wasn’t until his butt hit the seat and the baby’s head was shoved back inside, causing Xander to cry out, that he remembered sitting would be a bad idea.

“Are you all right?” John asked.

“Fine,” Xander replied once he got his breath back. “Just. . . hit my head. . . on the frame.”

John talked as they drove, and Xander tried to pay attention, but he was lost in exhaustion, the now familiar mantra of don’t push filling his mind. He couldn’t keep his legs together anymore. They were spread wide, but with each contraction, Xander forced his crotch firmly against the nice car seat, keeping the head in place just behind his lips. After so long of the agonizing stretch of a crowning head, having it deeper inside him was a strange relief.

Dinner was agony. Xander ate little, though the food was worth his entire paycheck, he was too nauseous, too exhausted. But John talked with a gusto, drinking glass after glass of wine. As the night wore on, John became clearly drunk. The casual touches on Xander’s shoulders and arms and hands began to linger. His cheeks glowed, his eyes gleamed in the candle light of the table.

The contractions were increasing, nearly constant now, frustrated at their lack of progress. Xander couldn’t take it any more. He needed to give birth. “I’m sorry sir,” he gasped, his hand pressing against the bulge in his pants. “Its been a great night, but I have to go.”

John reached across the table, grabbing Xander’s free hand. “You don’t have to call me sir, we’re off duty,” he said, catching Xander’s eyes. Then he paused, his eyes going down to where he held Xander’s hand, and he withdrew, coughing a bit. “You can, of course, head home as you need. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask that you take me home, since you are sober.”

Xander groaned, another contraction peaking. Tears of pain and frustration leaked down his face. But he agreed. John got up, swaying. And Xander stood slowly, awkwardly, his baby crowned in his pants, pressing against his worn packer-holder. The bulge bigger, the stretch far more painful than it had been during work. The fabric was wearing, allowing the head further and further out.

Together, the two men stumbled out of the restaurant and back to the car. John at least, didn’t seem sober enough to notice Xander very obviously pushing each time they hit a red light. He couldn’t help but push any longer. The baby had to come out. He needed to give birth.

The boss didn’t live far. Xander pulled up, red faced and relieved. He stood from the car, noticing the way the seat gleamed with wetness. He was leaking. 

A contraction came, and he grabbed the hood of the car and crouched, giving in to the push. The baby’s head inched further out, fighting his clothes’ restraining tension and winning. He groaned in pain and relief.

Then, “What are you doing?” John had come around the car.

Xander straightened immediately, but he could feel his baby’s fully crowned head pressing against his thighs. He couldn’t give in now, not after everything. He was so close. He just had to get John inside, then he could strip and birth, there on the sidewalk if he needed to. It wouldn’t take long now. The baby’s head was practically out.

“Just stretching,” Xander lied. “A bit sore, from. . .” Another contraction peaked, cutting him off. He stretched somehow, more, as his baby’s nose passed through his hole. He wanted to scream, wanted to collapse, wanted to strip. Instead he managed to just whimper.

“You seem beat,” John said. “Come on in, I’ll call you a cab.”

Trapped, Xander, was forced to step forward, away from the car, his baby’s head brushing his wide-spread legs with each step. Inside, Xander didn’t dare sit down, He stood in the corner legs obviously spread. He didn’t care anymore, he couldn’t have closed them if his life depended on it.

John stepped out, supposedly to make a call, and Xander crouched and pushed and moaned. Time passed. John came back in, a bottle of wine and a deck of card in hand. “Want to play a game while you wait?” he asked.

Xander couldn’t say no to John, so he nodded, forcing himself somewhat upright. Surely, John knew. Surely, he could see the massive bulge in Xander’s pants, the baby out to its ears. No one could be this oblivious? Xander wasn’t even acting anymore, actively moaning with each contraction, his legs spread like a baby deer’s.

“We’ll play strip poker. Your cab will get here before we get too far, I’m sure.”

Xander sat carefully on the couch, keeping his legs spread, hips tilted so the baby wouldn't be forced in again. The contractions continued, the pain immense as John sat across from him, and dealt.

Xander couldn’t focus, and so began to strip, gratefully out of his tie, then out of his suit jacket, then slipped off his shoes and socks. The cab still didn’t come. Xander forced himself to focus and won the next two hands, John choosing to take off first his suit, then his collared shirt, slipping it off while keeping his tie on.

Staring at John’s perfectly sculpted body, his tie hanging between his pecs, pointing a line at his abs and the trail of dark hair that led to his boxers, Xander suddenly knew that John had not called a cab.

He lost the next hand, and still trying to forestall the inevitable, removed his shirt. His stomach was bright red beneath his hair, riddled with stretch marks and bruises. Without a shirt on, it was very clearly a pregnant belly. John and Xander watched together as it visibly contracted.

John licked his lips.

Locked in the inevitableness, they played another hand. Xander lost.

“I can’t take off more,” he admitted. He could not remove his pants, not without pushing the head back in. And he hadn’t the will to do that to himself, not again.

“Let me help you,” John said. He came around the table, pushed Xander back on the plush couch, oh so gently. His warm fingers slid over Xander’s swollen belly, and Xander couldn’t help but moan in relief at the contact. The fingers continued downward, cradling the massive bulge in Xander’s pants. 

Another contraction came, and Xander pushed, face turning red. The baby’s head strained against the seam of his pants, massive. Then the contraction ended, and the head slid just a bit further in. “Please,” Xander begged, voice tight with pain and exhaustion. “Get them off.”

With his verbal consent, John nodded. He leaned forward, his bare stomach brushing Xander’s, until his face was a mere inch away. One hand cupped Xander’s cheek, the other the massive bulge in Xander’s pants. Then he closed the distance, pressing his mouth against Xander’s in an earnest kiss as he shoved the baby all the way back in. 

Shocked, Xander tried to scream, choking instead on John’s tongue. It was heaven and hell, all bundled into one, and Xander didn’t know how to process it. 

John pulled away, leaving Xander in a fugue. Vaguely, he was aware of John quickly working to remove his pants, his boxers, and his strap, leaving Xander completely nude before his billionaire boss. Xander spread his legs wide, not caring any longer, revealing folds glistening with birthing fluid, red and swollen from the stress of his delayed birth. 

John reached out, caressing Xander’s cheek. “You’ve done so well, Xander. So well today. This was a test, to see if you had what it took to be my spouse and the co-owner of my company. And you passed with flying colors. So, if you’ll have me, I will be yours, on one condition.”

Xander stared, heart pounding. John’s shirt was off. His pants too, were gone, though Xander didn’t remember him removing them. His member stood rigid in his boxers as he sat between Xander’s spread legs, meeting his eyes. He was the father of Xander’s child, everything he’d wanted, despite this torture he’d put Xander through. Xander had let him do it, because he’d wanted it. Wanted him. “Yes,” Xander said. “Anything.”

“Let me watch you birth our child.”

John knew. He'd known the whole time. But Xander wasn’t surprised anymore. This whole thing seemed inevitable. Perfectly planned. John, seeming no longer drunk at all. 

A contraction came, and Xander pushed. For the first time, he was free. He pressed his head to his chest, curled around his stomach, spread his legs wide and pushed with all his might. The head crept forward, dark curly hair spreading him wide. Xander screamed with effort. Took a deep breath, then pushed again, his contractions coming at a frantic pace.

The head stretched him wide, growing with each push. John’s hand came out, cupping the head as it emerged, massaging Xander’s lips. He cooed with each push. Whispered, “You are doing so well, Xander, so well. Look at this head we have created together. Look, there are its little eyebrows, its little nose, it’s little mouth.”

Then with one last push, the head was out. Long-held fluids gushed with it, spraying both John and his very expensive couch. But John was unphased. He smiled, one hand holding the baby’s head, the other reached out, rubbing Xander’s stomach. “Almost done now. Breathe. Let the baby turn.”

But Xander was done breathing. He couldn’t control himself anymore, lost the glorious pain of pushing. He pushed and pushed, screaming with the effort. With each contraction, the head bulged forward, then went back. No progress. He wasn’t making progress anymore! Tears of panic leaked. “I can’t do it,” he sobbed, frantic. “It’s stuck! It’s stuck!”

John’s hand left his belly, slipping into his hole alongside his baby’s neck, sending a burning pain through Xander’s nethers. He screamed, and John hushed him, hand far inside, alongside the baby’s neck.

Something dislodged in Xander’s hip. John ordered him to push. Xander complied, and he was stretched again, impossibly wide, by first one shoulder, then finally then next.

Panting, he opened his eyes, to find John cradling the crying baby. 

“It’s a boy,” John announced, then paused, smiling. “Well at least at the moment. Stellar job, Xander. Doing all this. I’m so very proud.”

Panting, Xander just smiled. 

“Stay here,” John ordered. “I’ll get the baby cleaned up, then I’ll help you. I’ve got a nursery all set up, and I have told the office we won’t be in for at least a month. Once we get you cleaned up, you can rest as much as you like. I’ll take care of feeding the baby. Then we’ll raise him and our company together. As partners.”

[webslingingslasher]

would make peter go camping with me because he’s head over heels in love and also he’s strong (spider man duh) and then i’d just be like :) the whole time (i’d totally ask him to pick up heavy logs and stuff just because)

everytime i go camping i wish i had a peter parker

“Don’t forget that log, looks like a good one!” 

Peter looks up at his girlfriend sitting in her green rocking camping chair, a cold can of alcohol in her hand, he can’t decipher if it’s a white claw or miller light based on the distance. The other points to his left, the setting sun hits the crown of her head and dances over her features, for a moment he forgets how to breathe and takes a lopsided inhale. 

It was your idea to take him camping, you were the master. You grew up doing it and always talked about it, always swore you’d take Peter and give him the glamping experience. You set up the trip as an anniversary gift, and Peter doesn’t think he’ll enjoy it half as much as you but seeing you so happy makes him match it. 

Peter’s hand cups over his forehead to look at you in the sun, “awfully demanding today, aren’t we?” 

He’s not wrong, you have been bossing him around the whole time. But, it’s your favorite activity and he was doing it, and you’ve been together long enough that he’s not doing it because camping will be his new hobby, but because you love it and it makes you happy. 

And his red flannel looked awfully lumberjack like on him, his biceps straining the fabric when he moved totes from your car full of heavy accessories. It got even better when you made him help you set up the tent, you gave light instructions and worked on your side but got distracted when your boyfriend crouched on one knee and had his tongue poked out the corner of his mouth as he focused on connecting the poles. 

You were left scrambling when his eyes shot to yours waiting for you to finish your half, he didn’t catch onto your greed. “I thought you’ve done this before, slow poke.” 

Struggling, his side full of tension, “I didn’t know it was a race.” 

It got worse when Peter noticed your struggle and came to pull your side taut, his back flexing under his down vest.

You nearly slingshotted the tent into the woods. 

“Here, baby. I got it.” Peter placed the rest of the poles and you were able to catch your breath in time to hammer the stakes in. You rest your fists on your hips as you look up at the sky, due to flooding in the main roads it had taken a bit longer than you expected, night was approaching. 

“We don’t have a lot of daylight left, you wanna grab some firewood and I’ll finish setting up camp?” 

Did you give him the man's job? Yes. 

Logs were heavy, plus bugs crawled all over them and not to mention the splinters. 

You had the camp ready in ten minutes, leading you to relax in your camping chair watching your ripped boyfriend trot back and forth from the campsite with handfuls of stems and logs. At first the tugged a fallen tree over to you which sent you running towards him pushing at his chest to throw him back in the woods whisper shouting.

“That’s not even remotely funny, Peter! Do you know what will happen if a park ranger catches you? They have eyes everywhere.” 

Peter rolled his eyes, “I dragged it like, ten steps.” 

You shoo him, “back it up ten, and get real campfire wood. I’ll get some fire starter.” 

Thus led you to watching with a careful eye and directing him, you’ve done this a million times and now you have someone else to do it, who also happens to be your super hot, loving boyfriend. 

“Love you, honey!” You called out the praise, hoping it would erase your demands from his mind. It works, he blows you a kiss and picks up the wood you called out for. He’s gotten more than enough for the night, and you stand before gesturing to your seat. 

“Take her for a ride, mama’s gonna make you a fire.” 

Careful eyes watched you, you could sense that Peter was ready to jump up and save you from a swallowing fire at any second. You talked through the process and into the night, where you then had Peter make you every s’more you wanted. 

Peter likes being out of the city and loves being around you with no distractions. 

He doesn’t think he minds camping half as much as he thought he would. 

Until you wake him up at three in the morning and ask, no, force him to get out of bed to walk into the woods with you so you could pee. You squatted behind a tree and had your arm wrapped around to the other side where it intertwined with your boyfriends. 

“Okay, turn around.” 

Too scary. 

“Wait, let me hold your hand.” 

Too quiet.

“Can you hum or something?” 

It is currently three in the morning and Peter is in the middle of the woods, back to a tree with his arm twisted wonky to hold hers, and he’s humming the star wars intro but can still hear you stream clearly and won’t tell you.

“Okay, done.” 

Your boyfriend fumbled with his waistline, his hand pulling it down swiftly. You get a peek of his lower half and squeeze your eyes shut, your hands cover them on instinct. “Yuck!” 

Peter has no regard, proudly pissing inches from you. 

“What, I have to hold your hand and sing and you can’t stand here?” 

“I’m in the splash zone!” 

“Oi! I’m aiming away, I’m not a mongrel.” 

A snap of a branch, rustling of bushes sent the hair on your neck straight up. Normally you’d think it was a squirrel, it’s almost always a squirrel. But this sounded big, in an instant you jumped on Peter’s back, giving him no time to prepare and he was sent slightly stumbling while trying to tie his pajama pants back up. 

“It’s a fucking bear, is it a bear, can you smell if it’s a bear?” 

Peter hiked you further up his back and walked back towards your site, “it’s not a bear.” 

Your arms lock around his neck so tightly he has to tug at arm so you could loosen your hold, “it could be a bear and you’re trotting slowly.” 

“Baby, if a bear comes up and starts a fight, help the bear.” 

“‘Cause that bitch gon need it,” you grunt in his ear. He tapped your leg in appreciation to the reference. 

You yawned when you laid back down in the tent, shuffling a little closer to Peter than the first time. He can say what he wants, but you’re the woodsy person and you’d give your right arm on a bet that was a bear. 

Loud ruffling near your tent sends you clinging to your boyfriend. 

“It’s the bear.” Your words are almost mute with how quiet and slow you were speaking. 

Peter doesn’t even open his eyes, his arm opens and tugs you into him. “It’s not a bear.” 

Another branch snaps, you’re nearly on top of him, he grunts with the new weight on him. He doesn’t even need to see to know what you’re about to say. 

“It’s not a bear.” 

A lazy grin forms when he feels puffy air on his neck as you grumble, “it’s totally a bear.” 

[poppitron360]

Lost Trio Week- Day 1: “Wilderness”

@lost-trio-week

GLEESON HEDGE, STATUS REPORT 09/07:

As reluctant as I am to be posted at this backwater dumping ground of a school, I am pleased to inform you that I have been keeping a close eye on the new students here.

No clear suspected Half-Bloods yet, but I’m still getting adjusted to the smell of this place. I’ll sniff ‘em out sooner or later, don’t you worry.

GLEESON HEDGE, STATUS REPORT 09/21:

A particular girl has caught my eye as a potential demigod. Name’s Piper Mclean, daughter of famous movie star Tristan Mclean. Daddy paid a lot of money to shove her here. Known kleptomaniac, has a scary-good way with words. Last week, she suggested a specific place to shove my baseball bat, and she sounded so persuasive I was almost convinced to do it… I didn’t, though. But I almost did. Powerful stuff.

No mother that we know of, which is a good sign. Probably dyslexic, too, if her worksheets are anything to go by. I’ve put her through the wringer in gym class, and she’s lasted well. Indications of enhanced speed and strength.

I’ll keep an eye out for any others, and will report back soon.

GLEESON HEDGE, STATUS REPORT 09/30:

I’ve been watching closely to see who Mclean keeps company with. Demigods tend to gravitate towards each other.

She’s made friends with this delinquent boy, Leo Valdez. Mother died when he was small, has spent the last seven years between foster homes, correctional schools, and the missing persons’ registry. No father on record. Diagnosed ADHD. Definite Half-Blood smell.

He’s a smart one- got a good knack with gadgets. He reprogrammed my megaphone last week. He’s also a troublemaker. Him and McLean are always up to mischief, doing my goatly head in. I fear Cabin 11 should get a bunk ready.

In other news, I’ve started to sniff the scent of a monster, perhaps masquerading as one of the students. But it could just be the axe body spray some of the kids wear. When can you get me outta here?

— — — — — — — — —

GLEESON HEDGE, MISSION LOG 12/19:

Today, I woke up in a canary cage.

Jason, Leo, and Piper have apparently been on this valiant mission to rescue me from the clutches of the storm spirits. With their top priority out of the way, the four of us are now on a quest to rescue Hera.

After me and Jason bravely fought off King Midas (back from the dead, by the way), narrowly escaping danger within an inch of our lives, we made it safely to the riverside, where we are now attempting to douse Mclean and Valdez who have been unfortunately gold-ified. More to report soon.

— — — — — — — — —

GLEESON HEDGE, MISSION LOG 07/18:

One month into our voyage on the Argo II. Iris messages are becoming few and far between as we get further and further away from home.

I spent my day helping Valdez with one of his damned “projects”. He’s been all over this ever since he found those Archimedes stuff under Rome. I don’t understand it.

Kid’s been anxious. I can tell. I can’t blame him, considering how much he’s got on his shoulders. I know he feels guilty about what happened to Percy and Annabeth. I’ve been trying my best to console him, but I think he thinks it’s pity. The best I can do is help him out with his stuff, keep him smiling, and make sure he remembers to eat.

Jason and Piper saved me a job today, as they came in at around midday with some food for him. The three of them really seem to care for each other. In my 107 years of living, a sight like that is always nice to see.

I patrolled the deck in the evening, with the help of the Di Angelo boy. He puts on a mean exterior, but he’s a sweet kid, and was eager to help me out when he saw me patrolling on my own. I’m not as skilled an empath as some of the other Satyrs at Camp, but it doesn’t take much to feel the waves of pain coming from the boy. After going through Tartarus on his own, and then being trapped in that jar… I can understand why he acts closed off. I would, too.

It won’t be long until we reach the House of Hades. Soon, this will all be over.

— — — — — — — — —

Dear Chuck,

You are one week old today. I look into your eyes, and I see so much joy, so much wonderment, so much love for the world. I hope you never come to know how cruel life can be.

Today, I went to a kid’s funeral.

The aftermath of the battle hit both camps hard. Many demigods lost their lives. A few of them I knew, a few I didn’t. One of them struck me more than most.

As I watched the shroud of the Half-Blood I’d sworn to protect go up in flames, I thought about that joy, that love for the world in your eyes. Leo Valdez was a brave boy, but I could tell he’d had a hard life. I never want you to experience the pain he went through.

There’s talk he might still be out there. I’ve heard rumour that the Seven managed to acquire a physician’s cure, but I’m sceptical. I don’t think anyone could have survived that explosion, not even a son of Hephaestus. But Leo’s a fighter. He’s strong, and I just hope he’s strong enough to make it through.

He gave up his life only a few hours after you were born. He was only sixteen, and even though that’s a lot compared to our lifespan, it’s still so young. Too young.

You will grow up in a safer world because of his sacrifice. I want you to remember that.

I was his protector. And I failed him. I promise I will not fail you.

Love,

Papa xxx

— — — — — — — — —

Dear Clarisse,

I’m not sure if you’ll get this with coms down, but the primitive mortal postage system seems to be a bit more reliable than the usual forms of contact. I did manage to receive your letter last week.

Yes, Mellie is recovering nicely- now four months post-partum! Little Chuck has begun teething (so if this letter is a little chewed up, that’s why). He’s hitting all his milestones and is well on his way to being a healthy little boy. You should see his little face when he tried tin cans for the first time!

On a sadder note, the search for Valdez still turns up nothing. Piper’s close to giving up, but Jason, bless his bleating heart is still adamant that the boy’s out there. If you ask me, it’s putting a strain on their relationship. They’ve been fighting more and more. I’d be surprised if they make it ‘til Christmas.

I wish I could be a glass-half-full kinda goat, but as it’s been four months since Leo disappeared, and with no sign aside from that initial message, I hate to admit it but I’m losing hope. And I can’t help but feel like I’m responsible. I was his protector. I could’ve done more to stop it.

There’s something suspicious going on over here in Southern California. Jason and Piper are looking into it, but until we know more, there’s nothing I can really report.

Work as Mr Mclean’s life coach is same as usual.

How is University of Arizona? Are you blending in with mortals enough? If anyone gives you crap, I can beat them up for you.

Lots of Love,

Hedge.

— — — — — — — — —

GLEESON HEDGE, STATUS REPORT 04/02:

Jason Grace is dead.

If Grover managed to get home before this letter did, you probably already know.

Leo Valdez finally made it to us, with news of the siege at Camp Jupiter. It’s not looking good. Apollo is heading over there to fight.

Leo seems relatively unharmed considering his brief death.

That’s now two demigods that have died under my protection, despite Valdez’s resurrection.

I will be escorting the Mcleans to their new residence in Oklahoma, and will continue to serve under the guise of Mr Mclean’s life coach, keeping a close eye on Piper and Leo while they’re away from camp. After the war and the fight with the Triumvirate, I don’t think they can take any more onslaught from monsters. I’ll keep them safe, don’t worry.

— — — — — — — — —

GLEESON HEDGE, STATUS REPORT 09/01:

I saw Leo and Piper off on their first day at New Rome University today.

I’m glad we got that minor issue of having blown up the city out of the way in time for Valdez to start his freshman year. That kid’s got a bright future ahead of him.

Sometimes I hate being an empath. There was a bittersweet aura around us all, remembering the friends who never got to make it this far.

Nobody said Jason’s name. But I could feel it.

I’m glad these two get a second chance. A chance to keep living. They’re lucky that way.

I hope they do okay there. I really do. I’m gonna miss those two.

Now that they are securely out of harm’s way in the city, I think it’s safe to say that they are no longer under my protection.

And I think it’s time I retire.

— — — — — — — — — — — —

Happy Lost Trio Week!!!

Day One and off to a great start! I am so excited for this week and can’t wait to read all y’all’s fics and see your fanart when I get back from Hiatus.

Some bits with the timeline are probably wrong. I went of Fandom Wikipedia as there’s not much Coach Hedge stuff across the books, but they don’t deal in exact dates (I had to write the dates the wonky American way for the sake of realism but just know that it pained me to do so).

Thanks to @demigod-shenanigans for helping me out with this. The hcs really helped.

I love Hedge. I really do. And I think his relationship with the Lost Trio is super sweet. He does care for them, despite how much of a liability he seems. The fact that Leo died the same day his kid was born is never brought up.

Something a little different to what other people might be doing, I hope. I know it’s not “technically” lost trio but Coach Hedge is the unofficial 4th member and he doesn’t get enough recognition. And showing the Lost Trio through his eyes was quite fun.

@euryvices-deactivated20241019 @deciduowl @lavenderfairiez @ottpopfic @ginnyluna @groverapologist @echo-stimmingrose @keefessketchbook @sleepyycapybara @123letsgobestie @kaleidoskuls @fairytalesociology @four-leafed-queer-gal @child-of-helios @green-tea217 @puzzled-pegasus @twomanyfandomshelp @lokiwiiiiiii @yoshuko-ew @frayna-of-the-hollow @via-rant @daonedaonlyskh @hadeslegacyhephgirl @siimplyapril @pjowasmy1stfandom @thetourturedwritersclub @m-for-now

[hoffstrap-yuri]

A Hedonistic Streak

ao3 // masterlist

Art by @dixxiemaegraphics

*Summary: Hoffman didn't mind shutting his brain off. He felt like it was a treat after a day at work as a detective. Apparently, someone else on the internet didn't seem to mind much either.

*Rating: +18 for mature explicit content.

*Content/Tags: Smut, Shameless Smut, PWP, Modern Era, Feeding Kink, Hand Feeding, Slob, Huc0w elements, Alternate Universe

*Status: Oneshot/Complete

Author's Notes: First of all, thank you to dixxiemaegraphics on tumblr this artwork that I commissioned especially for this fic that I put at the end. They knocked it out of the ball park as always, and I hope you all will enjoy the art as well! Second, Happy HalloChristNew Year! This fic is so long overdue, but I wanted to make sure it was good enough to live up to the title of my 100th fic on AO3 before I uploaded it! In the time it took for me to write this, I managed to finish the newest Dragon Age game, start a new job, celebrate the aforementioned holidays, and get a new laptop. So you can say I was a little bit busy xD. I hope you'll enjoy this pure smut because I certainly enjoyed writing it.

Hoffman glanced down at his watch. He had thirty minutes before he’d be going live and still had so much to set up. He quickly threw his work clothes off to the side out of the camera’s gaze and walked into his kitchen. He pulled a liter of soda he’d been saving for this stream out of his fridge and carried the four pizza boxes up to his room. He threw them down on the makeshift table he had before slipping on a tight fitting t-shirt that just barely covered his stomach but would ride up after maybe two slices of his dinner. He didn’t worry about his lower half nearly as much since the camera wouldn’t pick it up. He adjusted his seat, making sure his face was out of frame, and when he was ready hopped online. He’d barely even let a sigh slip past his lips and his most devoted followers were already there to watch him. He let his lower lip dip into the frame as he couldn’t hold back the smirk at seeing these perverts so willingly wasting their time to watch him eat.

“Hi everyone, did you miss me?” He asked. His voice was smooth and warm like he was in these people’s houses with them. “In case you’re new here… I’m the piggy apprentice and I love to eat. Today, I’m going to be eating pizza…” He opened the first box and showed it off to the camera, careful to make sure the logo on the box wasn’t in plain view since it was from a local place and not a chain. “I’ve got three more of these big guys waiting for me after I finish this one.” Immediately, a message from one of the first people to log in:

“Quit talking, stuff your face.”

“I will, I will.” Mark had to laugh, “Sounds like someone can’t keep it in their pants tonight, huh?” He slowly pulled a slice out from the box, giving that viewer blue balls as he waited for the cheese pull to break off on its own. He shoved the pizza into his mouth quickly, talking between bites. “You know, normally, I’d tell you all what I’m eating… how much I plan on eating on the stream, but today I feel like just getting into it. I’m sure I’ve got at least some approval to just go right ahead and make a mess out of myself.” Another message from the same guy:

“You were barely able to handle two pizzas last time you ate, fat ass. What makes you think you can handle two more?”

“That was a long time ago.” He rounded his lips as he blew the steam off his next piece of pizza, “You must’ve been watching me for a long time if you remember the last time I ate pizza. Honestly, it’s real cute of you to keep sticking around to watch me.” His eyes glazed over with lust as the words spilled out without much thought. This is why he did it, because unlike his normal job, Mark didn’t have to think. He didn’t have to find the right words to say to avoid conflict, didn’t have to make himself smaller to impress other people, he could do what he did best: mindlessly eat and flirt. In a blink of an eye his first pizza was gone, he pouted a little bit as he opened up the next box knowing that this would be his least favorite of the pizzas this evening. “You know… I was trying to be a little bit healthy with this one, getting green peppers on this, but now I wish I had just gotten extra sausage instead.”

“Like eating two pizzas in one night is healthy for anyone?”

Mark looked at the viewer count, it was just him and his devoted follower. He bit the inside of his lip before asking, “Were we being too horny for other people? Or did my attention seemed too focused on you?” His bottom teeth showed up at the edge of the screen as he smiled at the man watching him. “I guess… if you’re the only one here with me, I could get a bit messier than normal. If that’s something you want.”

“Be the disgusting, useless pig you were born to be.”

Mark nodded as he read the message, using his shirt as a napkin to wipe the grease off from his hand then diving in to grab more. Instead of one slice he grabbed two. He moaned as he managed to fit both slices into his mouth. He chewed quietly, trying to get his cheeks to deflate before he checked what messages his mystery man sent him.

“Maybe you’re not a pig, but a cow with those huge tits you’ve got.”

“What these?” Hoffman took his greasy hand and purposefully cupped as much of his chest as he could with one hand. He let out a soft moan as he slowly massaged it. “Maybe you’re right, maybe I am a cow…” He used his other hand to throw back another slice while he rubbed his thumb over his nipple under his shirt. Slowly, he snaked a hand underneath the creeping shirt and gave his stomach a quick pat. “Don’t even feel like I’ve eaten anything yet. Look at how soft it still is…” Almost immediately, his viewer responded to him:

“Then finish that second pizza and get on with the third one. Have to tell you to do everything around here, don’t I?”

“You just love how dumb I act while I eat, don’t you?” Mark cooed, “You like mindless cows stuffing their faces for your pleasure?”

“If your fat ass can finish your pizzas in the next thirty minutes, I’ll buy dessert.”

“God you’re too sweet…” Mark replied, tossing the second pizza box off in the same direction he threw the other one to get started on the third. His jaw was starting to get a bit sore from all the chewing but managed to two pizzas down, all the while continuing to flirt with the man. Nobody else dared enter Mark’s stream. Was his viewer his guardian angel? He let out a loud burp as he threw the fourth box on top of the rest and stood up from his chair. He groaned as all the weight in his stomach shifted while he stood in front of his camera, showing off how round his belly had become. He poked and prodded the taut skin, releasing more noises from his mouth while he waited for his man to say something to him. “Like what you’re seeing?”

“Dm your address. I’ll send whatever you want.”

“And if I asked for caviar?”

“You’d get it. You’ve been so good tonight.”

Mark purred as he leaned in, letting his belly droop over the table but careful to keep his face out of frame. He let out a pained little laugh as he did his best to scroll through his computer and get into his admirer’s private messages. He sent the man his address and a teasing little message, “Can you get me a whole cake?”

“Delivery will be there in 30 minutes.”

“Thank you.” He said, plopping back down into his chair. He let a belch out as he settled back into his spot. He quietly turned off his camera before sending another message. “You know since it’s just you and me… we could talk.”

“How was your day?”

“Kind of forward of you.” Mark laughed to himself but supposed it wouldn’t hurt him if he got a little more personal. “Day was pretty good… better now that I got to shut my brain off for a while and eat. Hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“Always do. You do this all day?”

“No. I couldn’t afford to eat that much all the time if I didn’t work.”

“Can’t imagine you working and actually having to use that brain of yours for something other than telling your hands to bring food up to your mouth.”

“Yeah? Would it surprise you if I told you I was actually good at my job?” Mark asked, trying to get under this man’s skin. He slowly started palming the bulge in his underwear while he waited for a response. The man kept typing then stopping, typing, stopping… until he finally came up with something to say.

“Wish I could be there to massage that stomach of yours. Maybe help you make room for that dessert.”

“Don’t worry, babe… working on making all the room for that cake you bought.” Mark had to roll his eyes. Was that really the best his man could do after sitting there and typing for almost five minutes? Not that he was keeping track. He just needed his phone handy for when his food shows up. “Now that you have my address, you could always come and feed me yourself if you’re in the area.”

“Might just take you up on that some time.”

“I bet I could eat even more if you were here.”

“I could make you beg for every last bite you get from me.”

When he noticed that the driver was nearby, he threw on some extra loose sweat pants and a sweatshirt to meet the driver. He got his cake and stared at the box for a second before heading back inside. He waddled back to his computer as fast as he could with his sheet cake in hand and typed to his admirer. “Just got the cake. Might take me a while to eat this… Not even sure I have enough room in me tonight.”

“Have it as breakfast then. Dive in face first so everyone at work can see what a disgusting pig you are.”

Hoffman hummed to himself as he imagined his co-workers’ disgust as he walked in with frosting smeared across his face. They’d already taken to calling him names behind his back when they didn’t think he was listening and he couldn’t deny how hot he found it. “I would love all that sugar to get me going in the morning, but I don’t think my co-workers would find it nearly as cute as you do.”

“Is it too much if I ask for pictures when you do eat it?” He asked, suddenly getting shy on Mark.

“Sure, but I’m not going to show any more of my face than I normally would.” He sent back quickly

“Fine by me. Hear from you tomorrow?”

“You’ll definitely be hearing from me.”

“Good night.”

And like that, his viewer was gone. Hoffman glanced back at his cake before firmly deciding that there was no way he could get a piece down this evening and needed to sleep instead. He flopped into bed and thought about the guy on the other side of the screen. Had he gotten off to Mark eating this time? Was he also thinking about how incredibly full Mark was after all that, but still hoping for more with his cake? He hauled his heavy ass up from out of bad and walked back over to the sheet cake. He opened the top up and after making sure he had his phone ready, took a handful of cake out from the corner. He ate from his hand, savoring the frosting as he let the dessert slide down his throat with ease. He took a picture of the cake, his hand, and the messy corner of his lip that he purposefully smeared with excess frosting. “Guess I just couldn’t wait for tomorrow morning.” and signed it with a heart emoji. After cleaning himself up and stripping out of his dirty clothes he fell asleep with the thought of what his viewer would have to say about the photos in the morning.

After their first stream, Hoffman had basically turned his streams into his viewer’s personal streams. Nobody got the cop by day’s attention like he did. He was crass and seemed like no matter what Mark did, had a stick up his ass. Every one of his messages read like a man so in the feeder closet he lived in Narnia, and frankly it turned Mark on to edge him just a little bit more each time. Tonight, he would binge on some doughnuts and talk. Not that he would see his viewer’s face, but they seemed like they almost had something after all this flirting between the two. As soon as his camera was on, his viewer’s status went from offline to online like that.

“Hello… mhm, we’ve only been going at this for a month or so and you’ve branded me as your cow. What pet name do you like?”

“Whatever you want to call me is fine” his viewer answered with haste.

“Honey feels right on my lips, but if you disagree… you can always come over and take it off.”

“I’m flattered.”

“That’s all you have to say, hm?” Mark raised an eyebrow. Not that he would see, but it made Hoffman laugh. He pursed his lips into an ‘oh’ shape before asking, “Want to know what I have planned tonight or just want me to start eating?”

“Tell me your plan.”

“Well I’ve got about five dozen doughnuts… a little gift leftover from work if you will, that I was going to eat for you. But that’s really all I had planned. I already started on the way home.” He rubbed the top of his growing gut, showing off the room it still had for more.

“Looks like you managed to get a dozen down already.”

“I did, had to break into the second dozen because I was absolutely starving. Don’t worry, eating five dozen doughnuts will be like nothing to me.”

“Shame, I like seeing you with a challenge.”

“Why don’t you set a timer then?”

“Finish it in an hour and a half for me?”

“You’re too sweet.” Mark opened the second of five boxes and immediately finished the last three doughnuts in there before moving onto the third. He was a little bit worried about the fourth box since it was filled with the stuffed doughnuts, but he didn’t need to worry about that now. Right now, he needed milk as the sugar caught up to his taste buds. He knew the man didn’t want to see him pour out a skimpy glass of milk, so instead he twisted the lid off and drank straight from the gallon like the fat ass he was. He cursed under his breath as some of the milk dribbled down his chin and onto his poor stretched out t-shirt that was barely hanging onto Mark as it was these days. “Not that you can see them, but I’ve got cow ears now to help me power through my meals when it feels like I just can’t eat anymore.”

“Bet you look hot with those on.”

“You’re right, I do look hot. I look even hotter when my eyes get all glazed over and there’s food all over my mouth and I’ve got my ears on.”

“Now you’re just teasing me.”

“Mhm, maybe I am.” Hoffman adjusted himself under his table. He finished the third box with almost an hour left to work on the next two boxes. He carefully looked down at his next box before taking the Bavarian crème doughnut out and sucking the filling from the hole it was piped into. He ate the empty shell then continued the same process with a long john. “You’ve been quiet for a while. Got anything to say?”

“Your thick lips look so sensual wrapped around that doughnut.”

“You’re being too nice. I’m a fat ass aren’t I? I managed to eat three dozen in an hour and I’ll have this one down in the next couple of minutes.” He snaked his hand into the fifth box, taking a frosted doughnut out just to change it up a little bit. After all, he could only eat so much filling. His eyes were starting to droop, his brain screamed at him to stop eating about two boxes ago. He looked at the camera then the screen for some kind of validation from his viewer.

“You’re a fucking heifer. Well past a pig, and damn near as heavy as a cow.”

“That’s what I like to hear, honey. Especially when I’ve had such a tough day at work. I bet you’d love to hear about it, huh?” Hoffman palmed his bulge, knowing that his words would probably make the man snap.

“Why don’t you just shut up you sack of lard? After all, your job can’t be that hard. You shut your brain off a long time ago to become the useless cow that you are.”

“Fuck…” Hoffman muttered under his breath, “I mean… moo.”

“That’s right, fatty. Cows don’t use words do they? They just moo and graze. I bet you don’t even have the energy to squeal like a pig if I came over and played with your fat rolls. No, you’re just a fucking heifer in every sense of the word. Can you feel my hands run over your tits as I plow into you from behind? The bites my teeth would leave on your stomach given the chance?”

If Hoffman had a tail, it would be flying right about now. He knocked the second to last box out like it was breathing, and demolished the last box with almost a half an hour to spare. He tried in vain to cover his mouth every time a burp or a hiccup came up his throat but got tired of it quickly. Once some of his brain cells returned to the forefront, he asked his viewer. “Well, did I put on a good show for you?”

“Best yet.” was the short reply he received. He didn’t say anything, but the other man’s curt answer rubbed him the wrong way. Almost as if he could sense his displeasure, the viewer’s typing icon lit up. “Wish I was there to clean those crumbs off your shirt myself. Or help you relieve all that tension in your stomach.”

“You’re too sweet.”

“Want anything? I’m buying.” He offered

“Something super salty. French fries would be heavenly right about now.” Hoffman had to laugh. The desserts would only settle more, like a brick wall forming in his gut and he still wanted to eat something for this man. Was he insane?

“Got it.”

“I could just about kiss you.” Hoffman leaned into his camera, pressing the thick bottom lip over the edge of his computer.

“I have to go for the night.” His viewer typed quickly, “See you tomorrow?”

“I might still be in a food coma tomorrow. But as always, I’ll let you know if I feel like I can get something down.”

“Please do… good night.”

“Good night.” Hoffman let the words trail over his lips as the viewer left. Hoffman didn’t even try to make it to his bed. He took a comfortable nap in the chair for a second before getting up to greet the delivery driver for his fries. He massaged the tight orb at his center and nibbled at the fries. The salt cut the sluggish feeling that the sugar provided him but it wasn’t enough. After finishing his light snack, he passed out on the nearby couch and woke up the next morning. He groggily threw himself into the shower, his stomach still slightly swollen from his previous night’s excess. He didn’t have time to dwell on the session, but he did run his fingers over the tuft of hair just below his belly button. After that moment of something quiet he remembered he had to get to work. After stopping to get coffee on his way in, he tiredly waltzed into work.

“Rough night, huh?” One of his co-workers remark. Mark mimes his coworker’s words behind the co-worker’s back before answering him.

“Yeah. Rough.” He took a sip from his coffee before walking across the bullpen and into his office. Not long after he had settled into his seat, his supervisor came in and told him to get his ass down to a crime scene. Must’ve been something high profile if they needed him on the scene of all people. He shrugged it off and headed to the scene. He stopped by another coffee place on his way to the scene and sat in his car for a moment. He seriously contemplated quitting right then and there, but managed to talk himself back out of it after the first sip from the new drink. Slowly, he got out from his car and walked in to be briefed by someone from forensics. While he poked around the edge of the scene, mostly uninterrupted two agents from the FBI walked in. Hoffman had to roll his eyes. He couldn’t deal with his swollen stomach and their inflated egos today. He really should’ve just stayed home. After that, he finally processed that the two were walking up to him.

“Detective.” The woman was the first to talk to him, “My name’s Agent Perez and this is my partner, Agent… Strahm.” She paused as it seemed like Agent Strahm had an aversion to being too close to the detective. Hoffman shook hands with Perez before leaning in to close the distance between him and Strahm and taking his hand by force. The other man looked down at Hoffman’s hand with a look of disgust that flashed across his face for only a second, but was evident to Hoffman. Mark could confidently say he felt the same way about the agent. Perez snapped Hoffman back into focus. “Why don’t you tell us what you know about this case?”

“There’s been a serial killer, as of right now this murder seems… unrelated.” Hoffman shrugged

“Unrelated my ass.” Strahm muttered under his breath. He crossed his arms in front of him before asking, “There must be something here.”

“If you can find a connection that five of my officers couldn’t, then congratulations. You get to say you’re the smartest man here.”

“Couldn’t be that hard with a guy like you running the scene.” Strahm pushed past Hoffman, brushing against Hoffman’s arm as he stormed off. The agent took a quick look back, maybe to see if Hoffman was phased before turning his attention to the crime scene. Perez rolled her eyes and looked in the opposite direction, politely asking if she could look further into something that one of Hoffman’s officers seemed to be studying intensely. Normally Hoffman would put up more of a fight when an FBI agent felt like turning his crime scenes into a pissing contest, but something about Strahm seemed like he was avoiding Hoffman personally rather than trying to assert his jurisdiction over the case. He slowly walked up to Strahm as Strahm squatted over a blood splatter, eyeing up the pattern and how it could end up where it was. Hoffman leaned forward slightly, his belly straining against the buttons at the front of his dress shirt. Strahm’s eyes darted towards the other man before averting them just as fast.

“Something the matter, agent?”

“I’m trying to think, fa… you fucker.”

“Sounds like you had something else on your mind.” Hoffman kept pressing at Strahm’s already tenuous buttons

“Do you do any actual work at your crime scenes?” Strahm scoffed, once again looking at Hoffman’s center rather than his eyes. Hoffman adjusted himself so that he was standing upright. He crossed his arms right under his chest and let them rest against the top of his stomach.

“I didn’t become the head of the department because my ass looks pretty in a mini-skirt. If that’s what you’re thinking.” Hoffman scoffed right back at Strahm. Strahm turned around fully to face him, only to draw back into himself as he realized his finger was dangerously close to jabbing into one of Hoffman’s pecs.

“I wasn’t thinking about that, pervert.” Strahm sputtered. Clearly Hoffman had touched a nerve. In order to ‘foster a co-operative work environment’ most would back off now, but that wasn’t Hoffman’s goal. He just had to wait for his opportunity. He backed away from the agent for a minute or two but never let him out of his line of sight. Lindsey seemed to be circling the two as well but was pulled away when asked for help by one of Hoffman’s subordinates. Finally, it was just the two men alone at the scene. Strahm walked over to the detective and handed him a small evidence bag. “Only thing I could find that your officers didn’t. Congratulations I guess.” Hoffman practically threw the baggie off to the side and rushed Strahm like a bull, taking the other man by utter surprise. Hoffman only stopped when he heard Strahm’s back make a soft thud noise against the drywall.

“Let’s quit playing games, Agent.” Hoffman slipped into his seductive voice that he reserved for his extra curricular activities. A flush spread across Strahm’s face all the way to the tips of his ear. His eyes refused to meet Hoffman’s, even as one of the detective’s hands took hold of Strahm’s chin and forced his head down slightly. Strahm stared into him, looking past Hoffman’s pupils.

“You’re the one playing games with me… you fucking heifer.”

Suddenly it clicked for Hoffman. Oh, oh this was too juicy for him not to tease him more for.

“You’re the perv that’s been watching me?” Hoffman leaned in, speaking no louder than a whisper into the fed’s ear. Strahm shivered and his face turned even more red. “I knew something was up when you walked in, but I didn’t know that my knight in shining armor would come strolling into my life like this.”

“Can’t fucking believe this…” Strahm muttered, mostly to himself.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” Hoffman’s mouth hovered over Strahm’s neck, aching to kiss the man that had been waiting for him on the other side of his computer screen right then. Goosebumps crawled across the agent’s skin and his breathing became heavy. It sounded like he was really struggling to come up with something.

“You told me you actually had to think at your job, and I couldn’t fucking believe it… no wonder you like mindlessly eating for my attention, you fat fuck.” The bass in his voice echoed through Hoffman as he sat with Strahm’s words. Now it was Hoffman’s turn to be stunned into silence. Strahm’s hands found themselves on Hoffman’s stomach after a moment of hesitation. He gave the doughy skin a firm squeeze before massaging the fat with more care than Hoffman ever thought a feeder would give him. Strahm’s hands continued to roam across Hoffman’s body mindlessly as his eyes fixated on Hoffman’s lips, desperately begging for contact without words between the two. Hoffman smirked and pressed the full weight of his body into Strahm before finally giving the agent what he wanted. His thick lips devoured the other man’s mouth in a kiss. Strahm broke the contact first as he ran his thumb over Hoffman’s bottom lip.

“What if someone sees us?” He asked, eyeing up Hoffman’s lips for another kiss while he feigned modesty.

“If it’s any of my officers, they’ll turn around and act like they didn’t see shit. What about if it’s little miss girl scout?”

“She’ll clear her throat and make it known she’s here. And she has a name, dick.” Strahm took Hoffman’s hands off of him before he started playing with his own shirt collar. “You free tonight?”

“No.” Hoffman rolled his eyes, “I’m eating on camera for this fucking pervert who can’t pick up on any of my hints about how badly I want him to stuff my face.”

“Dumbass.” Strahm hissed, “Fine. I’ll come over and stuff your fucking face, you want that you cow?”

“Great I’ll see you there.” Hoffman walked off with an air of confidence. He had some paperwork to fill out once he got back to the precinct, but he definitely wouldn’t mind filling it out now that he had a date waiting on the other side of it.

Hoffman bit down on his lip. He had no idea what to expect from Strahm and thus didn’t bring any food home with him. God he really felt like he was starving without his after work snack before a proper meal. He wore the loosest clothes he still had left, not bothering with pants that’d be discarded quickly for one reason or another. He heard the knock on his door, checked the peephole and barely cracked the door open to let Strahm in. His hand went immediately to the center of the agent’s chest, and his head titled in anticipation for the hungry kiss he knew Strahm was going to lay onto him. As expected, Strahm’s teeth dug into the skin of Hoffman’s lips and pushed Hoffman back into his apartment. He placed his hands firmly against Hoffman’s love handles and moved his mouth towards Mark’s jawline. Hoffman slid his hand down, teasing Strahm as if he was about to undo the other man’s belt only to wrap his fist around the plastic carry out bag handles that the agent had pressing into him.

“What’d you get me?” Hoffman bit his lip, waiting for an answer from Strahm. Any confidence the other man had was gone now that Hoffman was looking at him with such desire.

“Just… some burgers.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “Thought you’d look cute with grease running down that stupid face of yours.”

“Let’s start then.” Hoffman took his arm and pulled him towards the room he usually stuffed himself in. “Give me one and unwrap the next one right away.”

“Okay.”

Hoffman ate the first one without much hesitation, inhaling it rather than just eating it. He held his hand out for Strahm to give him the second and ate that just as fast.

“At least tell me you got me something besides just the burgers.”

“Yeah, fries too.” Strahm grumbled a little

“You’ve seen me clean up five dozen donuts like it was nothing. Are you really surprised I’d ask if there was more food?”

“No.”

“Good. Give me the fries now.” Hoffman demanded. Strahm put the bag into Hoffman’s hand and pulled another burger out from the bag. Just as Hoffman was about to tell Strahm to give him the sandwich, Strahm shoved the bun up against Hoffman’s lips. Hoffman bit down into the burger and ate as Strahm fed it to him. Strahm brought the next one up to his lips in a similar fashion and Hoffman finished it before mouthing off. “Big ass burgers you got me…”

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.” Strahm rolled his eyes slowly. Hoffman could feel that he was close to his limit. He wanted Strahm to count the wrappers and tell him how many he’d eaten but he wanted to get more in before he was completely full. “You’ve eaten at least six of these fucking things.”

“Yeah?” Hoffman looked up at him with lust filled eyes

“One of those is probably like three burgers for a normal person.” Strahm walked behind Hoffman’s chair. His hand slid under Hoffman’s belly. He lifted the heavy mass up only to let it drop onto Hoffman’s lap with a noticeable thud. A moan escaped from Hoffman’s lips as Strahm’s hand firmly rubbed circles into his stomach. “I could probably fit two more in there and being the stupid cow you are would ignore every other part of your body telling you ‘enough’s enough’.”

That’s right, Hoffman was Strahm’s cow. A greedy, mindless cow.

“Hell I could probably fit a baby in you and no one would be able to tell where your bump ended and your fat started.” Strahm’s hand snuck below the elastic of Hoffman’s underwear. “You’d look so good carrying my calf, you fucking heifer.”

Hoffman’s teeth were threatening to tear the inside of his lip open as Strahm talked to him. With a quick jerk out of the chair, Strahm sat on Hoffman’s bed and ran his hand over the silver belt buckle. Still in a head fog, Hoffman leaned into Strahm and wrestled with the cold metal himself. Strahm used his fingers to force Hoffman’s face to look at him. The detective’s heart caught in his throat as the agent’s lips pressed against his, softer this time for some reason. When Hoffman returned the kiss with a familiar hunger Strahm stopped playing nice and kissed with some passion behind it. He only disconnected from his fatass to pull the struggling shirt off over Hoffman’s head and strip his underwear off.

“You’re even fucking bigger than your stupid little work outfit makes you look.” Strahm’s nostrils flared as he looked over Hoffman. Hoffman hated how much he loved being glanced over by the agent like this. It was completely personal but felt impersonal; like Strahm wanted to distance himself from his creation but if Hoffman was the one to pull away, he’d only be pulled back by his leash harder. “Ride me.”

No ‘please’, no ‘you need a minute?’. This was about what Strahm wanted. Hoffman carefully maneuvered around his full belly to grab the lube and handed it to Strahm. Strahm shoved two fingers up into Hoffman to ease him into this. Hoffman scoffed for a second only to be shut up by the feeling of Strahm shoving himself into Hoffman. Mark couldn’t hold back the moan that ensued as Strahm began thrusting up into him. He wrapped his arms carefully around Strahm’s neck as the man let out grunts from the effort of holding Hoffman upright.

“Making me do all the fucking work, huh?” Strahm’s lips trailed along Hoffman’s jawline. Hoffman slowly bucked his hips up into Strahm’s, desperate for another point of contact between the two of them. Strahm moved his hands down along Hoffman’s back and gave his ass a generous squeeze before bringing them to the detective’s front and pressed down on his thighs to keep him from bouncing down too hard onto Strahm. The agent’s finger tips dug in so perfectly to the plush skin on top of him, it was all getting to be too much. With a couple more firm thrusts up into Hoffman, Strahm finished inside of him. He pulled out slowly, despite Hoffman’s whines.

“You’re really going to fill me up and not let me get off?” he pouted. Strahm leaned in for a kiss that turned into a bit of a fight as Strahm’s teeth sunk into the inside of Hoffman’s mouth. With all his weight, Strahm pushed Hoffman onto his back and ran a hand over the still firm curve of Hoffman’s stomach. He massaged some of the tension away, trailing his hand down to the other man’s dick. He slowly jerked Hoffman off. Already in an overeaten state of bliss, Hoffman didn’t take long to cum into Strahm’s hand as the agent brought the ejaculation up to his mouth. He licked his hand clean in plain view of the detective.

“God you drive me insane, you fat fuck.” He let out a sigh. He used his palm to apply pressure against Hoffman’s belly, rubbing circle after circle into the distended orb at Hoffman’s center. Hoffman was barely able to let words slip from his lips, continuously interrupted by belches he couldn’t keep in from Strahm’s soothing. The agent’s lips connected with Hoffman’s earlobe, kissing behind his ear as they both came down from the feeding high. When Hoffman could finally string his words together, he asked Strahm,

“Was that everything you hoped for?” His eyes were still glazed over

“Yeah… It was pretty good.” Strahm nuzzled into the crook of Hoffman’s neck.

“Just good?” Hoffman rolled away as best as he could, only for Strahm to pull him in closer. “You’ve got some high standards for ‘good’, ass.”

“Can’t let your ego swell as big as your stomach.” Strahm snipped back at him. He only pulled away from Hoffman when he saw that Hoffman’s eyes were growing heavy and went to turn the lights off for the two of them.

“Peter?” He asked in an almost sing-songy voice

Strahm choked a bit on his own spit as he tried to answer Mark in a timely manner, “Y-Yeah?”

“Wanna feed me again sometime?”

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

“Maybe I could stream it. Show off that it’s been you making me fatter this whole time.”

“Or I could just film you, for myself.”

“Perv.” Hoffman kissed his partner and leaned into him. Strahm’s hand ran up the outside of Hoffman’s thigh, rubbing in small circles along the bigger man’s love handles. “Can you promise me something?”

“Probably.”

“‘Probably’? What good are you?”

“Fine, what?”

“Bring me dessert too next time.”

“You got it.”

[dailylifeonmadmire]

April 4, 2025

Today was a big day on Madmire! The museum is finally open, and the way Mr. Nook talked about it I just have to go see it today. The little raccoons also opened up their shop, so there were a lot of new things to see. Then something interesting happened.

During the broadcast, we could all hear his cell phone ringing. Sounds like more people are coming to Madmire! However, of course like before Mr. Nook gave me a few chores to get the island ready for these new villagers. Apparently, they aren't keen on being in tents, so we now have to build them complete and furnished houses.

First, he had me build a kit to make a bridge and that wasn't that bad. It won't be actually built until tomorrow, which I'll admit feels kind of weird since I'm pretty sure I set that up with all the materials and it was just some logs. Can't we just do it now? Guess not.

After that, he gave me three housing kits to set up for the new residents. I just placed them down in some random-ish but still organized areas on the more northern side of the island. This is when I got pretty upset with Mr. Nook - he gave me a lot of D.I.Y recipes for these people, all of which would of been great for that workshop he was teaching! Why did I have to wait multiple days for this guy to teach me how to make a real bed?!

I built so much furniture today, and it was only enough to complete everything for a single house. The other two had good progress, but they need more wood and I already broke 1 axe today. It was kind of exhausting, but they'll probably be able to be finished tomorrow. During all of this, I ended up gaining quite a few Nook Miles though, and Mr. Nook had something available so I could more effectively keep things in my pockets. So much room now! But after all that work, I'm gonna take a break to check out the museum and shop.

Timmy and Tommy were talking to a blue hedgehog, but I don't think this is the one that's supposedly really fast. She seemed nice though, and mentioned selling stuff from time to time here on the island. New clothes? Awesome! Mainly because I haven't really done my laundry in...how long have I been here?

The shop was cute, and I really liked this desk that they had for sale. They even have this little cabinet with so much stuff, I got new flowers, wallpaper, and flooring for my house. Plus a wetsuit, I had no idea the ocean was safe to swim in here! I haven't been swimming in so long, so this is something I had to test out.

But first, that museum! It is so much bigger on the inside, and I cannot believe they got this all built in a day. The fish have so many tanks, there's so much room for them and the bugs have actual trees to rest on. It is actually insane how much I am in love with this place! There are still two exhibits I haven't explored yet, and I'm sure those will be just as amazing.

After that little trip, I head right to the water. There's so much fun stuff to pick up and investigate in this ocean. I even pulled up a fresh scallop, but this cute little otter sprung up behind me asking if he could have it. I wanted to not trust him at first, I mean it could be in the museum. But he seemed nice, and I'm sure I can find another one soon. (Hint: I looked until the sun was setting and did not...) But he did give me a cool D.I.Y recipe for a lamp made of seashells, which might be neat one day. After all this swimming, I had to lie down and call it a day. I probably swam around the entire island a couple times at least looking for creatures.

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Chapter 21 of Chained: To Wield The Blade We Have Forged

A/N: This chapter is stephcass focused enough that I think people might enjoy this as a standalone thing, so I'll be posting the chapter both on AO3 as usual, and right here in this post! This also connects to the reblog I wrote up the other night gushing about Batgirl (2000) #19 and the potential in a Cass vs Jason confrontation!

For this chapter only, NOT the whole fic: Rated T for Teen Ships are Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain and vaguely hinted at Jason Todd/Tim Drake There's gonna be a LOT of plot points that don't seem to go anywhere, cause they're parts of much bigger arcs, but there's some really sweet talk about deep stuff towards the end and the start is Steph handling a deescalation scenario Hope you enjoy ^w^ !

Dear War Diary,

You know, some days I don't even think Ivy should be in Arkham. Logging, pollution, hair spray tearing a hole in the ozone layer, pesticides - if I could feel plants' pain as they were broken apart, I'd want to feed people to ambulatory venus fly traps too. Heck, back in high school I was sure tempted to let her have at some of my more obnoxious classmates.

Unfortunately, today was not one of those days.

We knew something was weird this time around when the docs at Arkham called warning us that she woke up screaming and her powers went out of control. Usually when this sort of thing happens she goes towards a clear goal. Like, there'll be a construction site or a factory or something damaging the land and drawing her out.

Thing is though, the more we chased her, the clearer it became that she wasn't running towards anything.

She was fleeing, and seemingly had no clear place to bolt to. First she fled to the meat packing district. Then she ran down to the water, and like, we expected her to follow the coast? But she just swam right in! Left huge algal blooms in her wake too; like the lacy train of a queen's dress. She even left Gotham altogether for a hot minute only to turn back again for no reason. She was very obviously out of her mind frightened of something, but we had no idea what it was, and frankly, we still don't.

Tonight had real big 'predator running from the wildfire' energy, is what I'm saying.

It took several days, but eventually she gave up on running and bunkered down in one of the parks. The concrete storage shed she picked as her new home was so overgrown by the time we got to it that it was impossible to see a single square inch of the structure. The hardwood and thorn vines covering it had to have been at least a meter thick.

And that little backstory finally brings us to tonight's patrol.

I tapped my earpiece, "We getting anything on the seismic, O?"

"Nope. If she's digging she's doing it slow enough we're not gonna get any warning. Good news though, I finally got an answer back from Waller. Harley Quinn can be on the line within ten minutes notice."

"Awesome. Speedy, you good to cover me?"

"Yup! Got a whole quiver full of tranquilizers and frog crotch arrows ready for her."

I snort-laughed, "God, what a name!"

"I know right?! But yeah, you're good to go. I'll be aiming from the East, so gimmie a sign if you think you'll need me at a different angle."

"Got it. Alright O, give that ten minute notice and I'll start the approach."

Step one: Get the cops to back up the perimeter by at least ten feet all around. Frankly they were gonna be useless in a fight if it came to that, and the whole goal here was to get this done without bloodshed.

This part was pretty damn easy. I knew one of the cops there by name and she was more than happy to back her fellow officers out of the negotiation zone.

Step two: Establish a desire for peaceful communication.

I spoke through a megaphone into the general direction of the tree-bunker, "Doctor Isley? Would you be willing to come out and talk?"

The woods creaked and groaned, shifting minutely. My heart pounded in my chest, waiting, watching, every leaf bud an acid spitting behemoth in the making.

Nothing came out.

I called out to her again, "Okay. Doctor Isley, you seem really upset, and we don't understand why, but you haven't hurt anyone yet so we're not going to hurt you."

I glanced around surreptitiously at the cops. Lucky for me they all seem to be on their best behavior tonight. No one was grumbling about wanting to hurt her loud enough for me to hear, and I just had to trust that meant the grass couldn't hear them either.

"If you don't want to talk to me, that's okay. We want to get you some help, so we're going to try and get Harley on the phone so you can talk to her."

Against my ear, the phone crackled to life.

Time for step three: Get negotiation partner on board.

"Which bat-brat do I have the displeasure of speakin to today!?"

"It's Batgirl; we need your help getting through to Ivy."

"HAH! Well fat fuckin chance, asshole! I ain't talkin her inta anythin she don't wanna do!"

"And we're not asking you to! She hasn't even hurt anybody, and she's not making any threats, but she is clearly terrified. We think there's something or someone after her, and it's not us."

I gave her a moment to think it over. She's got to know we wouldn't let Ivy die, but there's always the chance we're just lying.

"Fine. Alright, what's the plan here?"

"Thank you! I'm gonna hold the speaker up to the megaphone, and you let her know you want to talk, then I'll slowly approach and once in speaking range I'll take the megaphone off of the phone to give the two of you some privacy."

"An you'll still be listinen the whole damn time of course."

"Yeah, sorry about that, but at least the cops won't be."

Harley sighs, "Turn the lights down in the house and start the music then. Lets get this show rollin an' over with."

Step four: Negotiate and deescalate.

Through the phone megaphone combo she said, "Hey Sweetpea, mind lettin me hear yer pretty voice again?"

The protective wall started growing again, getting thicker. I chance a few slow steps forwards anyway, since nothing offensive starts growing either. Or at least I hoped there wasn't something offensive in there.

"I've missed ya. Not the same kickin ass with these bozos in here, ya'know?"

As I got closer, the smell of ozone got stronger, breathing started to feel weird, and every drop of sweat evaporated off of me, leaving me parched. Her hypergrowth vegetation was stripping the carbon dioxide and water out of the air so fast that the atmosphere around it was going haywire.

Just as I thought she was waiting for me to get close enough for her tree's roots to just use me as a nutrient bag, an opening formed over the doorway to the storage unit, and she shakily poked her head out, calling for Harleen.

She was messed up. She clearly hadn't been able to take care of herself and

I'm not writing the next part down verbatim. Just seems too... invasive. They said a lot of sweet an

I don't feel great about this, but just in case I need it, I am going to record what I remember of how Harley talked her down.

Harley said, "Pumpkin, I'm so sorr

Okay. Third time's the charm?

This was not a criminal wrecking havok for profit. This was not a terrorist making demands. This was someone having a breakdown due to forces outside her control and her girlfriend comforting her as best she could. I shouldn't even have been hearing it, really, so yeah I think I'd feel too skeezy to keep dinner down if I wrote it all out 'just in case'.

Informationally speaking, hopefully the only part of their conversation I'll ever need to know again is that Ivy said "The green is dying" and "She's made the world barren; the flowers will never bloom again" and basically made it really clear that the damage was already done and no one was after her.

If you're reading this Future Me and you desperately need to know exactly what happened, sorry not sorry, get a time machine or something.

Anyways, after it became clear that there was nothing we could do for her other than get her back to mental help, I gave Speedy the signal to take the shot. The tranqs hit her before she realized anything was up, and there were only a few seconds of scuffle, then she was down for the count.

I picked up the phone again to cut the line and Harley said, "So that's it, huh? I talk her into openin' the treeline, you drug her up, and that's curtains?"

"There clearly wasn't anything else we could do for-"

"Fuck off you insufferable, controlling, shitty, furry knock off cops! I shoulda told her ta mulch ya!"

There were the muffled sounds of the phone being taken out of her hand, and then a voice I didn't recognize, "Well, I hope that clown to plant heart to heart was worth the favor."

"Zero injuries, zero deaths, zero horrifying poison scares: I'd say it was."

She, whoever she was (I assume it was Waller) chuckled, "Well you aren't the one picking up the tab. Tell Oracle it was a pleasure doing business again."

The line went dead.

"You get that O?"

"Loud and clear. And hey, don't let what Quinn said get to you. You did great."

"Thanks," I kinda didn't feel it, but the sentiment was nice.

The rest of patrol was a long and boring ride on the top of a police van, making sure that no one ambushed her on her way back to Arkham, and then a short conversation about what they're going to do to keep her there this time.

They've had a couple different ways to cut her off from whatever The Green is for a while now. Every method has nasty side effects, and half her breakout attempts were in direct opposition to using them. At this point their policy is to just help her manage being connected. Considering what I saw that connection putting her through tonight? The docs rubber stamped cutting her off from The Green again, at least temporarily, and I'm pretty okay that.

So yeah. We won. Yippee. And all it took was arm twisting a woman held prisoner by a shadowy government agency in order to trick the love of her life into making herself vulnerable to us...

God this job sucks sometimes.

And the suck was not over yet, not by a long shot! And the suck was not only reserved for me either. Uh, okay obviously since Harley and Ivy, but also!

Oracle called to tell me this: "I need to give you a heads up before you return to base, and Speedy needs some time to handle a private phone call so I'm telling you this now. Black Bat got into a fight that upset her pretty bad. She's been on the training sims and dummies for over three hours, and I'm kinda worried she's not gonna sleep unless someone helps her untangle her head."

"I thought everything went smooth on her end, what the heck happened?"

"Easier if I just show you," Oracle said and fed a video taken by one of the Bat-House's internal cameras into my HUD.

It showed Ca (gah trying not to write anyone's names is a mess) Black Bat in civilian clothes, standing in a doorway. She's staring at the Red Hood from across the room with an expression of frustrated determination.

He ignores her for a while, continuing to read, curled up on the couch in a posture so terrible I have to wonder if he's trying to give himself back problems.

She just... kept staring. And staring.

Finally he asked, sounding very snarky and annoyed, "Can I help you?"

"Why did you pull the trigger again? You were better. You did better for so long. Why?"

"I don't owe you that shit," He narrowed his eyes at her, "And you don't get to decide I was better just cause you liked it more when I was docile."

She marches over to him, "I know how it hurts. I see it hurt you! I want to help. I want to know why."

"No," He said, standing up to loom over her, as though she couldn't kick his ass five ways from Sunday with a hand tied behind her back, "You want me to get on my knees and sob and beg for forgiveness. As though any of you shitheads ever even deserved my forgiveness!"

"No! I want to see you get better! I wanted another little brother!"

"Well congratu-fucking-lations, you got one! Don't worry, Dickie hates it just as much. I'm sure he can give you some pointers on how to go fuck yourself about it."

My jaw started hurting from how tight I had my teeth clenched as I watched her face twist in open rage-hurt-sorrow, "Why won't you stop burning our house down!? You're in it!"

"I. Don't. Owe. You. That."

She glared up at him defiantly, "You owe someone."

"No. I don't."

"Sheezus!" Black Canary said as she entered the room, "I leave you alone for five minutes and you're already picking a fight with her? Seriously?"

Black Bat's anger simmered below the boiling point again, "Not a fight."

"That sure looked like-"

"Not a fight." She declared bitterly, storming out of the room.

BC raised an eyebrow at Hood.

He smiled all teeth and irritation, "Not a fight!"

She rolled her eyes and took her post back up as the video ended.

I sighed, "Well. That'd do it. Thanks for the warning, I'll see if I can talk to her, take her mind off it."

"Appreciated. I tried but... I dunno. You'll probably have more luck."

"We'll see I guess! So, am I good to check in with Speedy, or is she still on her phone call?"

"You're good."

When I grappled up to the roof she was on, Speedy looked pretty damn unhappy. So, like, clearly tonight was sucking complete ass for everyone. Mercury in retrograde or some shit, idk.

"You got news I take it?" I asked.

"Mhm, great news! By which I mean totally shit news. Apparently the lab I get my bloodwork done at broke, as in everything is giving false negatives. So yeah, all my bloodwork for the past who knows how long might have been wrong!"

"Oh shit. You want us to test you in the Batcave? Guarantee the lab down there could handle whatever you need!"

"I appreciate the offer, but I'll need to fast for twelve hours beforehand no matter what, so it wouldn't really be any quicker. Also my civilian GP would be pretty leery of a Bat-Diagnostic, especially since they already got me an appointment with the closest available people."

O cut in over comms, "That is suspiciously fast..."

Speedy shrugged, "I've got a feeling Green Arrow might have pushed me up the list somehow. He might not be (secret identity stuff I can't write down here :P ) anymore, but he's still got some pull."

"Hmm, well, both of you get back to base and we can figure out the logistics once you're here."

"Roger."

"Aye Aye Captain."

Once she cut off I offered, "Grapple line tag on the way there to take your mind off it?"

"You know what? I could use something to stretch my legs out after all that sniper crouching. Fuck it, let's do this."

Swingy swingy swingy over the buildings, across the bridge, to grandmother's imposing, minefield-surrounded cave we went!

We got into the cave, changed out of our gear, and sure enough, Black Bat was still in the training section, running herself ragged. Speedy went up to get some sleep since she couldn't eat dinner now anyways (do NOT envy that). So I went straight into an attempt to pry Black Bat off the training mats.

"Heads up!" I called out and tossed a bottle of water at her head.

She caught it without even looking, swapping to kicks and using her other hand to demolish her sandbag opponents, "Been drinking enough just fine."

"Sure. What'll it take to convince you to take a break and drink it with me anyways?"

She paused, leg still raised to kick, perfectly poised like gravity wasn't even a factor. It always makes my legs hurt looking her like that. Makes the rest of me swoon too.

"Would um..." She frowned, like she expected me to think less of her for making the request, "You bring dinner down here? For us both?"

I gave her a smile, "Yeah, of course. Mind saying how come?"

"Because Hood's up there and I want to fight him more. If I fight him, have to look at him. Have to watch him feeling and thinking and..." She finally put her leg down, and fidgeted with the cap of her water, "And I just don't want to."

"Didn't realize you hated him that bad."

"Not sure I do? Messy."

"Yeah, messy for me too."

Translation: I still don't know how to feel about him taking grisly revenge against Black Mask 'in my honor'. Still also super don't know how to feel about his welcome home gifts of a gun and an offer to come murder criminals with him.

Then I add, "But I'll have you know I'm a first class mess messer with-er! So if you want to talk about it, I'd be happy to."

She very briefly smiled, then her face feel again and somber moment passed before she said quietly, "Yeah, okay. Bring food down and... we can talk."

"On it."

"Um, wait!"

"Huh?"

She caught my arm and reeled me in for a kiss on the cheek, "There."

I laughed and gave her a proper kiss, "There! Love you."

Diary, have I ever told you about how she looks when she blushes? Because I seriously think I'll need to pull out the old poetry textbooks in order to do it justice.

Upstairs took me passed the dining room, where Red Hood and Red Robin were talking.

"The fuck is that?" Hood asked, leaning over his shoulder.

"Blueprints. I'm having a section of my house renovated while I'm stuck here."

"Wwwwhy?"

"I am swiftly being driven mad by boredom and saw a really neat indoor garden set-up on pinterest."

"An indoor garden? In Gotham? Do you fuckin want to get strangled to death in your sleep by vines?"

RR does the little 'tch' thing he picked up from Robin, "Whatever, it'll be fine, these are tiny little arboreals and I'll have reinforced airlocks leading in and out."

"That does fucking nothing for attacks in your sleep."

"Which is why I'll have the whole lockdown system automated. I was already going to do automation for the plant care stuff anyways, cause lets be honest here, there was no way I was ever going to keep them alive on my own."

"...The speed and ease with which you oscillate between self depreciating paranoia and megalomaniacal hubris is fascinating."

And even as pissed off as I am with both of them, that still almost made me friggin lose it laughing, RR seemed so offended too, it was great!

And speaking of pissed off? Yeah, seeing RR acting so chummy with Hood was kinda making my blood boil! Like, maybe he didn't even know they fought. But he's supposed to be her friend too, and it's still sticking in my craw, and I'm busy with the whole damn city needing patroled, and so bottom line: I didn't talk to him tonight, and I'm probably not gonna talk to him tomorrow night either!!

Agent A had several plates set to the side already when I got into the kitchen. I think he assumed at least a few of us were gonna go off in our separate corners after the argument. Made it nice and easy to snag two and bring it down.

She had clearly been pacing, waiting for me, back down in the cave.

We sat together and she held my hand while we ate - pretty awkward, but super worth it. We stayed quiet, me cause I wanted to give her the space to start talking, and her probably because she wasn't sure where to start.

Once all the peas and mash were gone and she was pushing her drumstick around the plate she asked, "Ready?"

"Go for it. All ears."

"It's a guilt thing I think? Least a little?"

"Kinda always figured you were uh, how to put it, I guess invested in him, cause of that sort of parallel between you two?"

She nodded, "Not all of it's that, though. Different guilt," She gives me a rueful smile, "I'm layered in it, huh?"

"Like a lasagna of angst," I told her solemnly.

She huffed a quiet laugh, fidgeting with my hand, "Am I um. A tasty lasagna?"

"Oh yeah, you're delicious," I said with a cheesy wink.

"Terrible," She laughed a bit more, running her thumb over the back of my hand, and the nervous sad crept right back in, "You know about um... One day, I rescued a man? Murderer. From the gas chamber?"

"Yeah. Not well, you've never said much, but I've read a bit about it. Was kind of a big news thing."

"On the way out I met the mother of his victim. She demanded justice. She demanded his death. I didn't know how to- to reconcile her grief. Still don't. But back then... I put him back in the gas chamber. I look at Hood. Wonder if he's the murderer or the mother or the executioner. Wonder what the mother was. Wonder what I was. Wonder if the distinction matters at all."

"Hood's trying to cut all the bad people out, trying to bleed the world better. You're trying to keep it all alive, trying to keep everyone growing. Maybe the other distinctions don't matter, but I think this one has to."

She squeezed my hand tight and kissed every one of my knuckles delicately, "I hope so. Trying to believe so."

"I kinda think you already do. You may be an angst lasagna, but you don't do what you do just out of guilt, yeah?"

"Guess so... I wanted so bad to find out that they'd been replaced by aliens or something. Find out that wasn't him. Not now and um. Not on TV all those months ago. At the very least I was hoping to find regret."

"I really wish I had something better to say than, you know, his determination to be an asshole isn't something we can fix. Just gotta keep growing our garden and hope he decides to join us for real sometime."

"Yeah..." Another round of knuckle kisses, "Yeah, you're right," She wrinkles her nose, "Sucks you're right."

"Yup."

She pressed her forehead against our intertwined hands for a while.

Then she asked, "Tell me about one of your shows?"

"Sure."

So I chattered about some light stuff she nodded along to until we were both ready for bed. It was honestly really nice, and I think I needed it too, a lot more than I realized.

So yeah, here's hoping tomorrow is less of a complete shit show from start to finish.

- Batgirl IV

[lyril]

okay new years resolutions or whatever other goals these are i'm thinkin'. this is basically a glorified long term to-do list instead of a short term to-do list tbh

- a few years ago i was doing pretty badly at brushing my teeth and i spent the new year at my nanny's stressed out about it, so i immediately got my shit together at new years and i haven't missed more than one or two night brushes because my body automatically wakes me up if i forget to do it. so i'd like to also start trying to remember more to brush my teeth every morning as well when i get up the first time, keep flossing more, and maybe try to use mouthwash more as well. just generally tend to things whenever i'm in there

- my emotions are still fucked up but i'd like to at least try to be more energetic and social? and see if it does anything in a "fake it til ya make it" way? not like, disingenuously, though, because it really is hard for me to fake stuff like that and be dishonest... i just want to try to coax the energy out of me more, basically

- i should also try to get out all my thoughts more often, especially on here. the only reason i was typing this up was because i was having a particularly Thinkful morning. i talked very much today. but oh my god it's just so hard sometimes when i feel foggy

- i NEED to get all my data and galleries and words and Whatever else sorted and backed up. i've been slacking on doing this forever but i will never be fully comfortable until everything is sorted and i can stop scrounging around for my OWN shit

- on that note i need to use my computer more because it's awful for me to have a thousand dollar computer i rarely use. i just need to think of shit to actually do with it. and log onto steam?

- oh yeah AND i really need to fully clean out all my blog drafts which would be easier if i didn't METICULOUSLY ORDER EVERYTHING I POST 🫶 LOL

- i gotta to stop jumping projects/interests and try to work more consistently on the stuff i do so i can finish more things to share. it's just so hard when i'm such a perfectionist and i lose steam but it really is so painful for me to do this over and over it's seriously like my gaping e5 wound scaring me away by never feeling ready or prepared to finish anything here

- need to continue to point out whenever i have any nice thought about someone i already do this but i need to always do it because not enough people do so

[harudnae]

Here come the next step of the Great Draft Eradication Plan!

I'm starting a new mini-series with a few ideas with Roger x Rayleigh x Gaban. I thought at first that I'd make a multi-chaptered fic, but in the end I reworked it into several short stories with varying ratings. There will be fluff, and there will be smut. For now I have 5 ficlets that I plan to post, but I might add more to this series if inspiration arises again 😋

Today you get Roger and Rayleigh's first encounter with Gaban, more will follow soon-ish.

Also posted on AO3 on 2024.02.07

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Roger x Rayleigh

Summary: Roger and Rayleigh meet Gaban.

Content warnings: rated T for Rayleigh's naughty thoughts

Word count: <600

✨ Encounter

Roger stares into the carpenter stall at the market.

Rayleigh curiously goes to him and peeks inside.

There's one guy behind the stall, cutting wood and working the material with dual axes.

Rayleigh raises his eyebrows. Cutting a whole log into smaller pieces is alright, but he wouldn't have expected anyone doing fine work with an axe, so he's quite impressed by the man's craftsmanship.

Roger turns to him, smiling wide, and he says, "He's crazy, but the good kind of crazy."

Rayleigh laughs, shaking his head. "Yeah. You're right."

The guy throws them a side-glance then focuses back on his work. He tells them, "I'd rather be crazy than bored and boring."

Roger explodes in laughter, startling the carpenter. "Words to live by. What's your name?"

"I'm Scopper Gaban."

(Rayleigh doesn't believe in fate but he still notices a pattern within their names. He doesn't mention it, but he can't forget it either.)

"Wahahaha, that's great! I'm Gol D. Roger and he's Silvers Rayleigh. Say, do you want to join my pirate crew?"

Rayleigh, stunned, blinks at the scene. He and Roger have been roaming the East Blue in tandem for a few years, and while they often talk about recruiting a crew, it's the first time that either of them actually acts on it.

(He wonders if Roger is going to invite random people out of the blue often, and he actively ignores that it's precisely how he came to sail with him.)

The carpenter stops working and curiously studies Roger. "Your pirate crew? Is it a big one?"

"It's just the two of us for now", Roger says, patting Rayleigh's shoulder. "What do you say?"

Now it's the other guy's turn to laugh. "Just you two, huh." He wipes an amused tear away, then glances at his stall. "About time I left, though." He sighs and turns back to Roger. "You have a ship? I know basic navigation and I can help with repairs."

Rayleigh stares in disbelief at the guy who apparently just accepted to join them without further questions.

Roger beams. "Welcome aboard."

(Is their crew going to be full of crazy people? If so, Rayleigh hopes all of them will be "the good kind of crazy.")

Gaban meets them by the edge of town at the end of the afternoon, with a couple of bags packed and ready to go.

"You packed fast", Roger comments.

"Yeah, well, I was helping someone with the stall earlier so I just needed to bring them back the keys to the workshop and grab my stuff. I don't have much to my name so it was pretty quick."

Rayleigh exchanges a knowing look with Roger. "I know the feeling, yeah. Well, our ship's over there." He points towards an end of the port. "She's small, but she's home."

Gaban quickly fills whatever space Roger and Rayleigh left available on board.

Rayleigh, against all odds, finds that their ship feels safer and more comfortable with the added presence of Gaban. He quickly warms up to him, and that has nothing to do with a surge of arousal on the following day, when he first sees Gaban shirtless on the deck.

(Rayleigh reasons that Roger may have twisted his personal tastes, and maybe now he has a soft spot for big men with dark hair. That's it. Simple. No reason to worry.)

Copper, Silver and Gold: [1] - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

[foodandfolklore]

The Boy who found fear at last

Yesterday, I shared a Celtic Folktale about a man who felt no fear. I used it as an example for why men not showing negative emotions like fear and sadness was glorified. Which is interesting in a way. But the story on it's own is kinda boring. Guy fears nothing, faces a bunch of stuff that would scare a normal person, and is rewarded for his lack of fear with riches.

This Turkish Folktale has a much more interesting plot line. Same premise; a male is born fearing nothing and searches the world for something to scare them. The only difference is in the Turkish version, they find it! Turns out, the most terrifying thing is responsibility. Which is weirdly relatable even today in our modern era. To grow up and start adulting before we feel we are ready is a terrifying sensation, and clearly not a mindset unique to our generation.

The Boy Who Found Fear At Last

Once upon a time there lived a woman who had one son whom she loved dearly. The little cottage in which they dwelt was built on the outskirts of a forest, and as they had no neighbours, the place was very lonely, and the boy was kept at home by his mother to bear her company.

They were sitting together on a winter’s evening, when a storm suddenly sprang up, and the wind blew the door open. The woman started and shivered, and glanced over her shoulder as if she half expected to see some horrible thing behind her. ‘Go and shut the door,’ she said hastily to her son, ‘I feel frightened.’

‘Frightened?’ repeated the boy. ‘What does it feel like to be frightened?’

‘Well—just frightened,’ answered the mother. ‘A fear of something, you hardly know what, takes hold of you.’

‘It must be very odd to feel like that,’ replied the boy. ‘I will go through the world and seek fear till I find it.’ And the next morning, before his mother was out of bed, he had left the forest behind him.

After walking for some hours he reached a mountain, which he began to climb. Near the top, in a wild and rocky spot, he came upon a band of fierce robbers, sitting round a fire. The boy, who was cold and tired, was delighted to see the bright flames, so he went up to them and said, ‘Good greeting to you, sirs,’ and wriggled himself in between the men, till his feet almost touched the burning logs.

The robbers stopped drinking and eyed him curiously, and at last the captain spoke.

‘No caravan of armed men would dare to come here, even the very birds shun our camp, and who are you to venture in so boldly?’

‘Oh, I have left my mother’s house in search of fear. Perhaps you can show it to me?’

‘Fear is wherever we are,’ answered the captain.

‘But where?’ asked the boy, looking round. ‘I see nothing.’

‘Take this pot and some flour and butter and sugar over to the churchyard which lies down there, and bake us a cake for supper,’ replied the robber. And the boy, who was by this time quite warm, jumped up cheerfully, and slinging the pot over his arm, ran down the hill.

When he got to the churchyard he collected some sticks and made a fire; then he filled the pot with water from a little stream close by, and mixing the flour and butter and sugar together, he set the cake on to cook. It was not long before it grew crisp and brown, and then the boy lifted it from the pot and placed it on a stone, while he put out the fire. At that moment a hand was stretched from a grave, and a voice said:

‘Is that cake for me?’

‘Do you think I am going to give to the dead the food of the living?’ replied the boy, with a laugh. And giving the hand a tap with his spoon, and picking up the cake, he went up the mountain side, whistling merrily.

‘Well, have you found fear?’ asked the robbers when he held out the cake to the captain.

‘No; was it there?’ answered the boy. ‘I saw nothing but a hand which came from a grave, and belonged to someone who wanted my cake, but I just rapped the fingers with my spoon, and said it was not for him, and then the hand vanished. Oh, how nice the fire is!’ And he flung himself on his knees before it, and so did not notice the glances of surprise cast by the robbers at each other.

‘There is another chance for you,’ said one at length. ‘On the other side of the mountain lies a deep pool; go to that, and perhaps you may meet fear on the way.’

‘I hope so, indeed,’ answered the boy. And he set out at once.

He soon beheld the waters of the pool gleaming in the moonlight, and as he drew near he saw a tall swing standing just over it, and in the swing a child was seated, weeping bitterly.

‘That is a strange place for a swing,’ thought the boy; ‘but I wonder what he is crying about.’ And he was hurrying on towards the child, when a maiden ran up and spoke to him.

‘I want to lift my little brother from the swing,’ cried she, ‘but it is so high above me, that I cannot reach. If you will get closer to the edge of the pool, and let me mount on your shoulder, I think I can reach him.’

‘Willingly,’ replied the boy, and in an instant the girl had climbed to his shoulders. But instead of lifting the child from the swing, as she could easily have done, she pressed her feet so firmly on either side of the youth’s neck, that he felt that in another minute he would be choked, or else fall into the water beneath him. So gathering up all his strength, he gave a mighty heave, and threw the girl backwards. As she touched the ground a bracelet fell from her arm, and this the youth picked up.

‘I may as well keep it as a remembrance of all the queer things that have happened to me since I left home,’ he said to himself, and turning to look for the child, he saw that both it and the swing had vanished, and that the first streaks of dawn were in the sky.

With the bracelet on his arm, the youth started for a little town which was situated in the plain on the further side of the mountain, and as, hungry and thirsty, he entered its principal street, a Jew stopped him. ‘Where did you get that bracelet?’ asked the Jew. ‘It belongs to me.’

‘No, it is mine,’ replied the boy.

‘It is not. Give it to me at once, or it will be the worse for you!’ cried the Jew.

‘Let us go before a judge, and tell him our stories,’ said the boy. ‘If he decides in your favour, you shall have it; if in mine, I will keep it!’

To this the Jew agreed, and the two went together to the great hall, in which the kadi was administering justice. He listened very carefully to what each had to say, and then pronounced his verdict. Neither of the two claimants had proved his right to the bracelet, therefore it must remain in the possession of the judge till its fellow was brought before him.

When they heard this, the Jew and the boy looked at each other, and their eyes said: ‘Where are we to go to find the other one?’ But as they knew there was no use in disputing the decision, they bowed low and left the hall of audience.

Wandering he knew not whither, the youth found himself on the sea-shore. At a little distance was a ship which had struck on a hidden rock, and was rapidly sinking, while on deck the crew were gathered, with faces white as death, shrieking and wringing their hands.

‘Have you met with fear?’ shouted the boy. And the answer came above the noise of the waves.

‘Oh, help! help! We are drowning!’

Then the boy flung off his clothes, and swam to the ship, where many hands were held out to draw him on board.

‘The ship is tossed hither and thither, and will soon be sucked down,’ cried the crew again. ‘Death is very near, and we are frightened!’

‘Give me a rope,’ said the boy in reply, and he took it, and made it safe round his body at one end, and to the mast at the other, and sprang into the sea. Down he went, down, down, down, till at last his feet touched the bottom, and he stood up and looked about him. There, sure enough, a sea-maiden with a wicked face was tugging hard at a chain which she had fastened to the ship with a grappling iron, and was dragging it bit by bit beneath the waves. Seizing her arms in both his hands, he forced her to drop the chain, and the ship above remaining steady, the sailors were able gently to float her off the rock. Then taking a rusty knife from a heap of seaweed at his feet, he cut the rope round his waist and fastened the sea-maiden firmly to a stone, so that she could do no more mischief, and bidding her farewell, he swam back to the beach, where his clothes were still lying.

The youth dressed himself quickly and walked on till he came to a beautiful shady garden filled with flowers, and with a clear little stream running through. The day was hot, and he was tired, so he entered the gate, and seated himself under a clump of bushes covered with sweet-smelling red blossoms, and it was not long before he fell asleep. Suddenly a rush of wings and a cool breeze awakened him, and raising his head cautiously, he saw three doves plunging into the stream. They splashed joyfully about, and shook themselves, and then dived to the bottom of a deep pool. When they appeared again they were no longer three doves, but three beautiful damsels, bearing between them a table made of mother of pearl. On this they placed drinking cups fashioned from pink and green shells, and one of the maidens filled a cup from a crystal goblet, and was raising it to her mouth, when her sister stopped her.

‘To whose health do you drink?’ asked she.

‘To the youth who prepared the cake, and rapped my hand with the spoon when I stretched it out of the earth,’ answered the maiden, ‘and was never afraid as other men were! But to whose health do you drink?’

‘To the youth on whose shoulders I climbed at the edge of the pool, and who threw me off with such a jerk, that I lay unconscious on the ground for hours,’ replied the second. ‘But you, my sister,’ added she, turning to the third girl, ‘to whom do you drink?’

‘Down in the sea I took hold of a ship and shook it and pulled it till it would soon have been lost,’ said she. And as she spoke she looked quite different from what she had done with the chain in her hands, seeking to work mischief. ‘But a youth came, and freed the ship and bound me to a rock. To his health I drink,’ and they all three lifted their cups and drank silently.

As they put their cups down, the youth appeared before them.

‘Here am I, the youth whose health you have drunk; and now give me the bracelet that matches a jewelled band which of a surety fell from the arm of one of you. A Jew tried to take it from me, but I would not let him have it, and he dragged me before the kadi, who kept my bracelet till I could show him its fellow. And I have been wandering hither and thither in search of it, and that is how I have found myself in such strange places.’

‘Come with us, then,’ said the maidens, and they led him down a passage into a hall, out of which opened many chambers, each one of greater splendour than the last. From a shelf heaped up with gold and jewels the eldest sister took a bracelet, which in every way was exactly like the one which was in the judge’s keeping, and fastened it to the youth’s arm.

‘Go at once and show this to the kadi,’ said she, ‘and he will give you the fellow to it.’

‘I shall never forget you,’ answered the youth, ‘but it may be long before we meet again, for I shall never rest till I have found fear.’ Then he went his way, and won the bracelet from the kadi. After this, he again set forth in his quest of fear.

On and on walked the youth, but fear never crossed his path, and one day he entered a large town, where all the streets and squares were so full of people, he could hardly pass between them.

‘Why are all these crowds gathered together?’ he asked of a man who stood next him.

‘The ruler of this country is dead,’ was the reply, ‘and as he had no children, it is needful to choose a successor. Therefore each morning one of the sacred pigeons is let loose from the tower yonder, and on whomsoever the bird shall perch, that man is our king. In a few minutes the pigeon will fly. Wait and see what happens.’

Every eye was fixed on the tall tower which stood in the centre of the chief square, and the moment that the sun was seen to stand straight over it, a door was opened and a beautiful pigeon, gleaming with pink and grey, blue and green, came rushing through the air. Onward it flew, onward, onward, till at length it rested on the head of the boy. Then a great shout arose:

‘The king! the king!’ but as he listened to the cries, a vision, swifter than lightning, flashed across his brain. He saw himself seated on a throne, spending his life trying, and never succeeding, to make poor people rich; miserable people happy; bad people good; never doing anything he wished to do, not able even to marry the girl that he loved.

‘No! no!’ he shrieked, hiding his face in his hands; but the crowds who heard him thought he was overcome by the grandeur that awaited him, and paid no heed.

‘Well, to make quite sure, let fly more pigeons,’ said they, but each pigeon followed where the first had led, and the cries arose louder than ever:

‘The king! the king!’ And as the young man heard, a cold shiver, that he knew not the meaning of, ran through him.

‘This is fear whom you have so long sought,’ whispered a voice, which seemed to reach his ears alone. And the youth bowed his head as the vision once more flashed before his eyes, and he accepted his doom, and made ready to pass his life with fear beside him.

[watchingspnagain]

Rewatching Jump the Shark

Welcome to “Adam is the New Dawn Summers: A Supernatural Rewatch Blog” with Lor and Mace!

Up today, s4e19: Jump the Shark

The boys answer a call on their dad’s old cell phone, and the caller claims to be John’s son. FRAUGHT. They go to meet him, Sam ready to see what’s what, Dean *certain* that this is some monster laying a trap. But all signs point to Adam really being John’s son and therefore the boys’ younger half brother. Adam’s mother has disappeared, and while Sam and Dean try to find out what happened to her, the three brothers have all manner of moments of strife and snipe and hurt and grump. (Dean is especially grump.) Turns out, whoops, that Adam IS a monster (a ghoul) laying a trap, but the ghoul has taken the form of the real Adam, who is very dead but was also very much Sam and Dean’s brother. Ooof.

Below is a log of our real-time reactions as we watched. Remember that there may be spoilers for any part of SPN’s 15-season run here. Note also that the nature of our conversation is adult and thus it may contain adult language and themes.

 [and we begin:]

Lor:

oh fuck off, John

jeez, Dean

Mace:

sammy brushing his teeth is hot don't ask me why i don’t make the rules

Lor:

"but I'm hungry now" me and Dean are the saaaaame person

LOL it is adorable

Mace:

HA

Lor:

omg Sam also has mouthwash

Mace:

YAS

Lor:

our poor boys

Mace:

yeah

dean is PISSED

Lor:

yep

and underneath his anger iceburg is a whoooole lot of hurt

Mace:

yeah

don't just throw the silverware on the floor, Dean, you’re better than that

Lor:

right?

I will forgive him a lot right now, but still

Mace:

poor Adam

Lor:

yeah

"a car fell on him" DEAN

Mace:

“a car fell on him”

you’re being a turd

Lor, slap him upside real quick

Lor:

yep. we've crossed over into "no pie for you"

nah he enjoys that. and then I get all....

Mace:

yeah right, you would never

Lor:

yeah, I wouldn't. not enough that he'd feel it

Mace:

i meant deprive him of pie

Lor:

oh that.

I meeeean. maybe for a minute or two

what diner has real silver on the table?

Mace:

Lor. we just watched Dean switch them out and throw the diner’s stuff on the floor

get your head in the game

Lor:

oh yeah! I was... distracted

oh Dean, honey

Mace:

oh man, Dean. poor thing.

 his head is near asploding

Lor:

yep

and his heart

Mace:

admit it, Dean, your dad was a DICK

Lor:

as if he could hate John more AND dammit he'd thought the man had run out of ways to hurt him

YEP

oh DEAN. he needs a hug. maybe he should pray to Cas

Mace:

that’s the problem - i don’t think he does hate john and he really needs to

Lor:

well not enough anyway

Mace:

he hates himself for not being a better son instead of blaming john for being a shit father

Lor:

sloppy, John, getting your pic in the paper. terrible hunter

oooof YEP

Mace:

so this is going right into the I Must Be a Shitty Son because He Loved This Kid More

Lor:

ooooof

see, he needs pie

lololol Dean

stop throwing scissors!

Mace:

omg the spazzing

Lor:

(course, maybe he's doing it on purpose to protect Sammy from having to go down there)

Mace:

(maybe)

Lor:

(I can never decide which I think it is)

Mace:

EWEWEW

Lor:

ick

oooo you clean that gun, Dean, you clean it good

Mace:

HA

Lor:

I mean. Dean is

just not for a JOB

Mace:

yeah

oh Sam

always steps up with the logic

Jesus, Dean, sitting as far away as he can

Lor:

"nobody just says okay"

YEP

Mace:

Dean. It’s not HIS fault.

Lor:

nope

Dean is SUCH a whirl of emotions

Lor:

omg both of them yelling "no" at little brother

Mace:

YES

“welcome to the family”

AHAHAHA

poor Sammy

Lor:

poor Sammy. welcome to being the middle kid, Sam

Mace:

Somehow he’s always been the middle kid

Lor:

HA!

YES

(do you remember how this goes?)

Mace:

(i do not)

Lor:

(oh HO. very good, then)

Mace:

(well, I mean, Adam ends up as Michael, if that’s what you mean)

Lor:

(that is not what I mean)

Mace:

I love that little bracelet on Sam’s wrist

Lor:

it COULD have been over if the writers hadn't dropped the ball all the way to the center  of the earth at the end

YES

Mace:

YUP

Lor:

nnnnnggggg Dean crouching by the car

Mace:

is he wearing…italian boots?

Lor:

he is wearing SOME kind of very special boots that he did NOT buy at Macy's, that's for sure

pets him

this is why you never park over top of shit

Mace:

Ha!

Lor:

lol poor Bobby. "MORE of you snot nosed Winchesters to look after? I'm gonna resurrect your son of bitch father so I can shoot him myself"

Mace:

AHAHAHA YES

oh WAIT I THINK I REMEMBER NOW WHAT HAPPENS

OOOOOO

Lor:

LOL

Mace:

Dean is STRUGGLING with stuff

Lor:

he REALLY is

Mace:

wants to hate the kid but also wants to protect him

Lor:

YEP

Mace:

Big Brother pull is strong with this one

Lor:

yep

oh Sam

Mace:

“i think it’s too late for us"

oh DEAN WINCHESTER

they are beautiful boys, but DAMN they are messed up

Lor:

they REALLY are

"well then I'll look again"

Mace:

stubborn

Lor:

his little hufflepuff heart can't handle not caretaking his little brother

Mace:

ha!

“sloppy Joe” DEAN WINCHESTER NO

Lor:

lol I love that he makes his quips when there's no one to hear them though

Mace:

I prefer when he says “son of a bitch"

Lor:

ditto

oooof Dean

Mace:

yeah

oh he’s got his thinking cap on

Lor:

lol

EW

Mace:

agreed

EWEWEW

STOP CUTTING MY STRINGBEAN

Lor:

RIGHT?

ooof Dean you can stop now

Mace:

Jesus, Dean.

Lor:

you probably wanna raise them higher than that too Sam

Mace:

yeah

Lor:

"Adam's in a better place" not for looooong

Mace:

i don’t remember how he comes back

is it because dean says no to michael?

Lor:

the angels bring him back when Dean says no, yeah

Mace:

stop insulting sammy, dean

Lor:

"you take it any way you want" ooooooof

The Fraught Brothers Ride Again

Mace:

cripes, boys

[yennefer-of-vengerbergs]

just me ranting about work under the cut, because damn has it been getting on my nerves and i need to get it off my chest somehow🙃

i swear, every day, the idea of just quitting my job seems more and more tempting. it's getting to the point where i can't stand it anymore and the thought of having to log on and staring at my work laptop all day brings me nothing but annoyance, to say the least. i'm tired and no amount of pto is ever enough, especially since it's just me and someone else (who is a lead) in this team, so i can't even take too much time off at a time because of it. and i can't stand this person and they're always throwing 99.99% of the work at me, and there isn't that much i can do about it other diplomatically say something isn't as doable as they'd imagine it to be, seeing as they also do my performance review and any raises i get depend on that 🙃

had half a day off on friday and what do i come back to today? more work that's ready for me, because of course everything has to be ready at the same.fucking.time 🙃on paper, i have the time for it, but man does it get on my nerves to see everything come in at once, with no consideration for the fact that hey, it's just me doing this shit, can ya'll slow the fuck down and stop taking stuff in advance, that's then expected to be ready, even if it isn't meant to be done during this period of time?

and as i was typing this, they wrote that they want to chat about even more work that came in unplanned 🙃(surprisingly, they took that on, but i know for a fact that the initial idea would have been to pass it on to me because "you've worked with this before")

and what else do i find out today? they have more than a month off for the holidays, from december to january according to the very public calendar on the hr portal used here, which means i'll be on my own with nobody to help me if i need it🙃nevermind the fact that i would have liked to take a few days off then too, but hey, what do i matter in this equation, their weeks and weeks of pto are clearly more important 🙃

guess it's high-time for me update my linkedin profile and look for a new job, as much as i hate job hunting and how this year is probably the worst time to look for a new job in the industry i work in (literally the only reasons keeping me at this job are the good pay and the fact that it's 100% remote and i refuse to go into the office for work anymore, so ideally i'd like a new job that is also 100% remote). but honestly, it's gotten to the point where i can no longer stand this place and i just feel like my soul gets sucked out of me every single day, little by little. I know it's going to probably take a long time to find a new job that fits what i want, but ugh, i'm just done at this point, i'd rather go through the hurdle that is job hunting for however long it takes than to stay in this place longer than i have to.

it's funny, as much as i ended up hating working in the gaming industry because of the toxicity where i worked and shit pay and it being absolutely thankless, i sometimes regret leaving that entirely because at least it was an industry i cared about and i actually worked with some people that i had things in common with and could have a conversation with. now i just feel completely disconnected from everyone i work with, seeing as i have absolutely nothing in common with them and all that's left is another round of falseness from pretty much everyone. i'm not one to necessarily make friends and be all buddy-buddy with the people i work with (if i end up being friends with someone from work, cool. if not, cool again, i'm just here for my paycheck in the end, k bye), but even i have to admit that sometimes i'd like to at least be able to have a conversation about something that isn't work related throughout those 8 hours i have to spend every day working.

i don't know where i'm going with this anymore 😂but anyway, yeah, work sucks, why did we as humans see relaxation and chill vibes and generally good and happy things, and then just invented a 40-hour work week and jobs that suck the life out of you?

[camp-counselor-life]

Ok friends of tumblr dot com, here are today's good things! It wasn't a perfect days, and I did spend a lot of time telling myself, you are ok, you are ok. But I made it, and here I am, getting ready to start all over again tomorrow.

I had therapy. I am blessed that I have a schedule and supervisor that allows me to have additional therapy appointments when I need/want them. This is a blessing that most people do not have and I am fortunate that I do.

I matched with someone on a dating app! We will see where this goes. I don't have a ton of bandwidth for dating honestly, but it might be fun to get to know someone new.

I made a crockpot stew and it was very tasty!

My friend said that I did a good job on one of the messages I sent about the color guard stuff in Spanish. That's a good start. It is Friday, so probably should have gotten on this earlier, but I'm gonna do this.

I talked to my supervisor today about wanting to be able to set boundaries, and how I haven't always been able to do it. She was really understanding and I am grateful for that.

My apricots are ripe and I had four. yummy!

I finished my book on medicine and natural experiments. It was really interesting, somewhat funny, but very much up my alley.

I'm sure more good things happened, but I'm about to go journal and read. I'm trying to log off the computer earlier, start winding down from screens, a bit earlier than I was.

[prettynhot]

13.01.2024 Sat restarting,revolving n readjusting.

new day,new me:) i’ll start talking about last night first. after i logged in here with my journal update, i left my course place n got home. while i was walking though, i witnessed the first snow falling in my city for this winter!

the snow was incredibly pretty and delicately falling with a slight cold breeze. the breeze moved my hair quite romantically, i was blushing from the cold so with my cute red cheeks n red nose, delicate snowflakes in my hair n outfit, i looked and felt like i was in a movie. people were passing by with literal awes and someone even offered to carry my bag for me! people are so nice <33

after i got home i ate my dinner,got some sweets and as i sat down to relax,i fell asleep😭 i woke up to a call from my sister, facetiming me to ask what to wear for her bday celebration. she just turned 30 this year! i still cant believe she is 30 now,she has that young aura n energy which makes everyone feel like she’d be in her 20s forever. crazy that shes stepping into her 30s now. im excited for this new chapter in her life, feel like its going to be her best one yet:)

after talking to my sister, i got up,changed from my outdoor clothes to my comfy sweatpants n thin,soft long sleeve,grabbed water n cleaned up my room a bit. after that i shopped online for a while and danced for at least 2 hours.

it was soo much fun!!! i hadnt danced in a quite long while n totally forgot how in touch with my femininity n grounded it makes me feel! while i was dancing ag’s new song played, titled ‘yes and’ which i quite liked!! then i saw that time flew by n it was nearly 12 am, which i was waiting for in order to celebrate my sister’s bday:) we facetimed at 12 exactly n i even blew candles for her! she got so happy n told me all about the presents she got n how her bday celebration went. we talked a bit but i needed to study so i had to hang up :(

then, since i had not studied at all ever since i got home,i sat down n studied for a good 2 hours, brushed my teeth n my hair n had a nice night sleep😴

woke up in a good mood, drank my morning water n had a filling, delicious breakfast with a good load of veggies, a whole lot of protein n some carbs. it was soo yummyy^^

then i got ready, decided to postpone the glamming for my little tc thing, since i didnt want a crush to get in the way of how my exam goes, knowing i wouldnt be as comfortable in all glam.

so i took the exam! it went quite nice at first but as time went by, nearing the end of the 3 hrs, my focus got harder to maintain n i didnt even realize i had a headache from constrating so hard! even though i didnt feel like i did as good as i was capable of, it still wasnt horrible n i know the result will be decent. so im pleased yet eager to do more!

after the exam, i had a class with my teacher:) the one whom i have a little crush on:) he was exceptionally smiley today! he asked me how my exam went, kiinda checked me out(i mightve even made it up honestly😭but lowkey felt it though!) chatted with us for a while. then his class starts, as usual hes very interactive with with everyone n me, jokes around n stuff.

one thing i really like about him is that he always looks at me while he’s telling a story about himself or anything personal really. its as if like hes telling that to me only as he is only making eye contact with me. it makes me feel super special!

it was quite hot in the classroom so i wanted to open the windows yet he was cold so he didnt want me to,and joked about that the whole class.

and he even came rlly close n sat beside me.specifically right beside me. just to talk to me.

UGHHHHHHHH

losing my pretty mind over that.

this man literally tried to sit on the heater to talk😭hes also absurd sometimes.

AND ALSO!!

HE TALKED ABOUT HOW HE IS TRYING TO NOT BREAK STUDENTS HEARTS NOW. WHILE LOOKING AT ME. HE WAS LIKE ‘IM WATCHING MY WORDS NOW SINCE I DONT WANT TO BREAK ANYONES HEART’. WHILE LOOKING AT ME. CUZ I TOLD HIM HE HURT ME THE OTHER DAY??

look, i might be delusional(likely) but come on, what would you think in my shoes?

i’d like to think that it was intentional so i will:)

n that was all for my little crush talk.

after his class i stayed on the place where i took my courses to study a bit more. while i was there, one of the founders of that place, offered me fruits n even cut them up for me🥹 hes usually an unusually cold man so i was quite suprised! but it made me very happy nonetheless!

after i was done, while i was leaving the course i came by the owner of the course place n chatted with him for a while, he’s the bestest! hes very intelligent and sweet!

that’s all i have for today! i texted with one of my best friends as well, we promised to meet this monday to visit our national library. we’ll see how everything goes!

im trying to readjust n revolve, into the girl who is disgustingly overeducated, into the girl who is balanced and feminine, into the girl who has everything together in her life<3

same time tomorrow?

[cashappscontact]

7 Easy Steps to Cash App Sign In and Log In

The Cash App sign-in procedure is as simple as downloading this app from the Play Store. If you haven't yet downloaded Cash App, it's a good idea to download and complete your Cash App login today. Cash App is a user-friendly app that lets you move money between the app and your bank account. You can also send money from your bank account to the Cash App or the other way around, even without using a debit or credit card. It's especially beneficial for parents who want to teach money management to their teens.

Now, let's dive into how to get into your account for Cash App sign-in.

How to Get Your Cash App Account:

Step 1: Download the App or Open It: First things first, if you haven't already, download the Cash App from the App Store or Google Play. If you've got it already, open the app.

Step 2: Sign In: You'll see a button that says "Sign In." Tap on that. You can use your phone number or email to get started.

Step 3: Confirmation Code: After you enter your info, they'll send you a code to make sure it's you. Type in that code, and you're in. If you're into cool stuff, you can set up a fingerprint or Face ID for quick access next time.

Don't Have the App? No Worries!

You can still complete the Cash App sign-in process without the app. Just open your web browser and go to the Cash App website. You'll find a sign-up page there. Enter your email or phone number, and they'll send you a special code. Click on that code, and you're almost there.

You can link your bank account by putting in your account and routing numbers. The Cash App will send a tiny bit of money to your account, check everything is right. Confirm the amount they sent, and you're all set up. So, no app? No problem!

What About Cash App Signing in with Email?

Signing up with your email is super easy. Just download the app, and when you open it for the first time, they'll ask you for a Cash App sign-up. Tap "Sign Up," put in your email, and create a strong password. The app will share a code on your email. Check your inbox or spam folder, type in the code, and bam, you're ready to manage your hard-earned money with Cash App.

Documents You Need for Cash App Sign-Up:

To sign in, all you need is a working email or phone number. That's how you create your account. But, if you want to link your bank account or add a debit card, you might need some bank info or card details.

What's Cash App Login?

Cash App login means getting into your account to handle your money stuff. You can send money, receive it, and do more with it. Remember, you cannot use the $Cashtag identifier for Cash App login, go to the Cash App website or open the app, put in your email or phone number, and your password. Once they confirm it's you, you're good to go.

Cash App Logging in on Android:

If you're using an Android device, here's how you log in: Open the app, enter your email or phone number, put in your password, and log in.

Trouble Signing In? Here's Help:

If Cash App gives you a hard time signing in, here's what you can do:

Check your internet connection.

Log out and log in again.

Restart your device and try again.

Clear the app's cache or update it.

Double-check your login info.

How to Change Your Password for Cash App Sign in?

Changing your password is easy. Open the Cash App, tap your profile icon, go to "Privacy & Security," then "Change Password." Enter your old and new passwords, and you're all set.

Signing In on a New Phone:

Download the Cash App on your new phone, open it, hit "Sign In," and enter your email, number, and password. Now manage your money on your new device.

That's the details on Cash App sign-in and Cash App login. It's a simple way to handle your money, send cash, and keep track of your funds.

[fizzingwizard]

(Complaining)

Today I got to work. The first hour was teaching my extracurricular class. Then I went directly to my homeroom class, taught their lesson, then sat with my wigglers for the next teacher's lesson because otherwise they run around in the back of the room screaming. (IMHO our school expects two year olds to sit for lessons for way too long. It's 45-50 min total. But I've suggested at least breaking up the lessons before and am always told no by the leaders. I do let the wigglers check out and go read a book or do a puzzle when they really can't sit, because I just think it's ridiculous that two year olds should have so little freedom... but Japan... anyway)

After that I had to frantically get ready for our craft and activity time. Usually I do that during my co-teacher's lesson, but this year there are too many wiggly kids, and my third co-teacher tries to help but because we have so many kid she also has too much she needs to do during that time... After that, we get ready for lunch. Got a lot of kids this year who refuse to eat anything but rice. More than usual. So lunch is pretty much us standing to observe and sneaking quick bites of our own lunches when we can between helping kids eat and encouraging them to eat a teeny tiny bite of literally anything besides rice.

Then they play. We have to take them to the bathroom, clean the tables and chairs, clean the floor, pack away the lunches, change the diapers, log information about lunch and daily activities in their individual notebooks, help the kids pack their bags, and refill their water bottles, while watching them play. Then we do a gross motor activity, then we read a storybook, and then the kids go to nap time.

It's four hours of constantly moving, talking, standing, squatting. Never sitting, lol. Now we do our best to convince the kids sleep is a good idea. I stay through part of my "break" finishing those notebooks. Then I go do my cleaning duty. Then I go to the computer and fill out the required report on our day. Then I have to do 20 assessments, go through all the photos we've taken so far to make scrapbooks of 24 photos for all 20 kids, organize all their crafts and worksheets into the scrapbook, review and upload our class time videos for the parents, plan events, go shopping for materials, make the materials for the next craft, write the newsletter for the parents, and create my lesson plan for next month. I have an hour to do this. I am not being paid for this hour. (Also it's often not even a full hour, but 30 min here, 15 min there.) It is so fucking impossible lol. And the assessment and stuff, it's worse because it's redundant as well as ridiculous. We JUST assessed the same sort of stuff in the kids' progress reports less than a month ago, and now we have to do it all over again with very slight variation for every single kid, AND this assessment will be used to evaluate the kids' readiness for next level, which is just silly because the majority of those who haven't reached certain benchmarks yet will have reached them by the end of the year... utterly silly.

So during this hour I do as much of that as I can, which today meant I did the reports, did some lesson planning, and managed to finish ONE assessment. I have sooo much left to do. When when when. Where is the time for it. I'm not paid a salary. I'm hourly. They literally expect me to do it on my unpaid breaks and whatnot. And it's not even stuff that can be accomplished in an hour - especially when everyone else also needs to accomplish the same things, we're all off duty at the same time, and first come first serve at the computers haha.

Now that hours up, so I go to wake the kids, all 1-3 yos, from their nap. One of the kids throws a tantrum, so my co-teacher takes him outside. They're gone for fifteen minutes, which is precious time right now because there is, again, so much to do. Wake all the kids, get them in their shoes, sitting at the table, drinking their water. Clean up their futons. Take their temperatures. Document stuff in their notebooks agaaaain. Hand out allergy snacks. Hand out home snacks. Hand out school snacks. Check everything off on a plethora of checklists. As they finish, wipe their hands and faces, make them drink more water, help them clean up, check their diapers, change their diapers, watch them play, send them home with their parents or to extracurriculars, clean up the crumbs, clean up the tables and chairs, clean the floor, vacuum, clean up the garbage, watch the kids play.

Because the co-teacher is gone for 15 minutes, I'm the only one, the ONLY one, taking care of all the kids who are eating. I have a kid who will stuff his mouth so full of food that he'll start to choke, so I have to diligently give him one bite at a time until he's finished, in between cleaning. There are two other teachers in charge of diapers and the notebooks (who for some reason just didn't do the notebooks today?? I'm not really sure what happened there). It's supposed to be two and two, so there's no one to help me. I have to do all the cleaning, wiping, diaper-checking, and breaking down by myself. By the time my co-teacher comes back, she's off duty. So I have to deal with tantrum kid too, whose current mood is "say no to everything." He screams while I desperately try to put away all the tables so there's room for kids to walk, and sweep the floor so they don't have to walk on squashed grapes and cake. Between doing all the overseeing and cleaning myself, I was on my feet doing physical stuff for 55 minutes. Usually we're cleaned up in 40 minutes. Ah, there's that 15 minutes. (Not my co-teacher's fault though - the kid needed to be taken care of. It's just that we're expected to do SO MUCH in a single hour.) Also it's really freaking hot, and yeah we use AC, but there's a lot of bodies in the room and when I checked the thermostat, some alien person had set it to 25. I was like nope nope 23, 23 it is. Suddenly the room was a lot more bearable (9_9)

So now I can FINALLY sit down with the kids who are playing. It is literally four minutes till clock out time. I find a kid who threw a fit about changing his diaper, who I'd managed, while cleaning up, to cajole into doing it by himself. He had put his diaper on backwards. I tried to fix it, he tried to run away, he fell and started to cry. This is that kid with the hypersensitive parents I've mentioned before. Guess when his mom decides to arrive? Yup, just that moment.

She acts fine, I fix his diaper, he stops crying and goes off happily. When I go to clock out, I see mom changing his entire outfit. The parents have told us that if their kid sweats, we need to change his clothes. We already change kids' clothes if they get wet or are sweaty. Today we didn't go outside because it's too hot. Their kid didn't get particularly sweaty staying inside. His shirt wasn't wet at all. But the mom changed all his clothes. I am bracing myself to hear about it tomorrow.

But I keep thinking. When the hell was I going to think to change this not sweaty kid's clothes?? At what point during the day did I have a moment to do anything except frantically run around doing as much as I possibly can? I have not sat down all day except to work through my break. I've eaten nothing but a little bit of rice myself because lunch time was so busy. I'm exhausted, hungry, and hot. Someone give me a break to change my sweaty clothes, lol!

I want to do everything possible to keep the kids happy and healthy but I absolutely have no idea when I or my coteachers had a moment to think about anything not 100% essential. I'm just fried.

I felt a little... not vindicated, but seen, I guess, the other week after some leaders came for yearly observations, and their feedback was that our class is doing great, but I'm doing too much. They really encouraged my coteachers to help me more. And while I am most DEFINITELY doing waaaay too much, it's also too much to expect more of co-teachers, because the veteran teacher is also doing a lot more than she should be, and the rookie has only been here a month. She's trying but she hasn't developed the skill for behavior management yet, and she doesn't know how to anticipate what I'm doing. Plus I know she is EXHAUSTED everyday. Last Friday she was so anemic that she had to go lie down and I stayed late to cover her shift. I don't blame her one bit. This is too busy and fast-paced a school for a first-timer learning the ropes. I'm glad it wasn't my first school. She is working really hard and doing so well, and my other co-teacher is amazing. It's none of our fault we just have TOO MUCH WORK, not enough time, and not enough staff.

I'm just counting the days until Obon break, ugh.