#Affordable Beer Towel

[grannyandgrandpascreations]

Have A Hamm's Day Kitchen Dish Towel

Have a Hamm’s Day Flour Sack white Kitchen tea towel is a perfect unique gift for the Hamm’s Beer Bear Collector or perfect bar towel! This towel is a unique gift for any Hamm’s Beer Lover!

Flour sack dish towels are called “flour sack” because they are modeled after the thin cotton bags that flour and grain used to be packed in, which were re-used as towels. The thin cotton yarn and the looser weave make for a towel that’s extra absorbent. You can even air dry your salad greens; the super absorbent nature of flour sack towels makes them great for drying delicate greens. Also, flour sack towels are lint free! Which means no more fuzzies on your wine glasses when you wipe them dry!

Flour sack towels are also softer and significantly larger than a standard kitchen towel….and more towel is always a good thing! You can use these towels for drying, wiping, cleaning, or dusting and they can be used for fun decorations.

Each flour sack kitchen towel measures 28 in. x 29 inches (Product dimensions L x W x H – 28 x 29 x 29 inches). They are 100% cotton, durable and absorbent. These are flat woven towels; they are perfect for cooking or baking and can safely be used around food such as covering dough for rising or as a food strainer. These towels also double as a kind of strainer or cheese cloth; the fine weave means you can strain sauces and broths through a flour sack towel to clarify them. Flour sack kitchen towels are sturdy, highly absorbent, dry quickly, and are designed to stand up to most any cleaning job. The towels easily withstand frequent washings and are made for repeated daily use.

The flour sack kitchen towel is a quality item with versatility and utility, we offer everyday designs and special occasion designs. Our flour sack towels are a great gift idea and very inexpensive!

Care instructions: Machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low.

Due to different light settings the actual color might vary a bit from the pictures.

Current Turnaround Time due to upcoming Holidays - 1-5 Business Days. While we always use priority shipping options, once shipped we cannot guarantee delivery due to the backlog current being experienced USPS/UPS/FedEx. If you have a strict deadline, please message me when ordering so that I can note any rush requests. Ownership of packages turned over to USPS transfers to the Buyer. We are not responsible for lost, held, damaged packages or delayed packages, once your package(s) leaves our Shop it is completely out of our control. Thank you for understanding!

Thank you for visiting Granny & Grandpa's Custom Creations, we truly appreciate your support of small businesses. We also personalize our products, please reach out to us with any personalizing any of our products, additional fee's may apply.

Please visit www.grannygrandpascustomcreations.com to view more products.

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Have A Hamm’s Day White Kitchen Towel. Great kitchen décor for the Hamm’s Beer or Hamm’s Bear Collector. This kitchen towel is available in one different writing colors. Granny & Grandpa’s Custom Creations also offers a Monthly Kitchen Towel Subscription Box…..check out our Kitchen Towel Subscription Box.

We are all a little bit of a mess in our own way, especially in the kitchen, which is why you can never have too many kitchen towels! Granny & Grandpa’s Custom Creation kitchen towels are attractive, affordable, update your kitchen décor with Granny & Grandpa’s kitchen towels and they make GREAT gifts! Our kitchen towels only come in white, but our designs are in many different colors.

Each flour sack kitchen towel measures 28 in. x 29 inches (Product dimensions L x W x H – 28 x 29 x 29 inches). They are 100% cotton, durable and absorbent. These are flat woven towels; they are perfect for cooking or baking and can safely be used around food such as covering dough for rising or as a food strainer. You can use these towels for drying, wiping, cleaning, or dusting and they can be used for fun decorations. Flour sack kitchen towels are sturdy, highly absorbent, dry quickly, and are designed to stand up to most any cleaning job. The towels easily withstand frequent washings and are made for repeated daily use. The flour sack kitchen towel is a quality item with versatility and utility, we offer everyday designs and special occasion designs. Our flour sack towels are a great gift idea and very inexpensive!

If your desired writing color is not shown, please reach out to us at grannyscustomcreations@gmail.com, as we would like to be able to accommodate your desired writing color to the design. Our Kitchen Towels are only available in white. Writing colors do vary.

Care instructions: Machine wash cold, no bleach, no softener. Do not dry clean. Do not iron. Tumble dry low.

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: Your Soul's Signature Scent

✧ “Odors have a power of persuasion stronger than that of words, appearances, emotions, or will. The persuasive power of an odor cannot be fended off, it enters into us like breath into our lungs, it fills us up, imbues us totally. There is no remedy for it.” - Patrick Süskind

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you. Also, I'm a rambler and I love going off track. One pile got a mini wattpad story. CHEERS!

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

✴︎ Pile One ✴︎ (King of Pentacles, 3oP, Knight of Swords, 9oS, 1, Ascension, Worthy,)

Not to be weird but I’d sniff you like rich frat boy coke.

It's hard to describe scents so… walk with me.

You have had a long, stressful day and the world is pissing you off. You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place so after work, you open Google Maps in hopes of temporary solace with cheap liquor and bar food. You find one of those dingy sports bars with shitty beer, sticky tables, and drunk grown men yelling at a tiny wall-mounted television.

Not exactly your cup of tea, but as the French say… C’est la vie!

You practically had to beat half of the bar off with a stick, just to find a seat. Drunk old guys + A Pretty Pile One = Sloppy, slurred marriage proposals(?) You couldn’t tell, but “I wanna bring you home to my mama” sounds close enough.

You pay them no mind. You have one goal. Get fucked up. Don’t throw up.

Okay, maybe two goals.

You finally find a stool and raise a finger to signal the bartender.  

“Hey, bartender! BAR-”

“I see you. Don’t call to me.” 

A nervous drop in your stomach almost tips you off your stool. You feel them before you see them. Every bottle clink they make reverberates to that pit in your stomach. You only hear the bartender’s movements among a crowd of bustling people: their shoes stick and unstick to the floor, their fake chuckles at guests’ jokes, every time their hand slides across the bar to collect bills.

Maybe it’s delusion but you’re convinced you hear the steady drum of their heartbeat. 

You finally get a good look at the bartender. In a sea of hostile people drowning themselves to forget their sorrows, you see the calmest, most fearless person in the room. Squared shoulders, back straight, head held high, and the smoothest walk you’ve ever seen; they almost glide.

You watch in complete admiration as they de-escalate a fight, sanitize bar taps, count money, and make a drink all in one go. You haven’t spoken more than two full words to this person but something about their presence makes you want to kneel.

The bartender finally makes their way to you and their eyes lock with yours. Your neck begins to sweat so you quickly dart your head away. A deep, velvety chuckle comes from the pits of their stomach, “Don’t show me you're nervous, I usually charge the Bambis more.”

“Bambis?”

“You’re shivering like a scared little deer, aren't you?”

You have no words so you focus on twisting your hands under the tables. 

They find you cute. With another chuckle they lean in closer to you, “I’ll tell you what, how about I make you a drink to calm you a little, yeah?”

“Uhm, I’ll take a-” Before you could even tell them what you want, their back is to you making a concoction.

Forty-five seconds later, a glass of honey bourbon with an orange slice and a vanilla bean stick slides in your direction. Along with a… cigar?

“I doubt you can handle this, but I want to see you sweat.”

Hands shaky, you press the glass to your lips as the bartender guides you, “Take it slow. Let it sit. Savor it.”

You came in here looking for cheap booze and a deep sense of impending regret, but here you are drinking $400 bourbon you can’t afford and hanging off of every syllable this person says to you.

After a slow sip and a burn behind the ears, you ask, “How do you do that?”

They raise their brow.

“Ya know… command like that.”

They whip a towel over their shoulder, “Once you realize how scared and hurt everyone actually is, worthiness feels less unattainable.”

BAHAHAHA THAT ENDING WAS SO CORNY (and kinda ominous??) BUT THIS IS GETTING LONG AND THIS AINT WATTPAD.

In summary, your soul has a very effortlessly commanding signature. Even if you aren’t aware, your energy dominates every space it enters. You might have people who seem to dislike you for no reason, this is why. BUT YES, a sweet bourbon with a hint of citrus and something smoked on the side is 100% your signature. Also… Petrichor. Your soul scent is the sweetened waft of smoked wood beneath grit and the smell of wet Earth after a storm. 

"Can You Taste The Spice On My Lips?"

✴︎ Pile Two ✴︎ (9oP, 10oP, King of Wands, Lust)

✴︎ BAEEEE, don’t fucking play with me. Your soul just told me to take my shoes off in your million-dollar mansion. You told me to stop acting like a fucking hooligan???

There is a richness to you down to your very core. I’m getting Pushya, the most auspicious nakshatra representing wealth, prosperity, and milk (divine nourishment). But there is also a spiciness here.

SPICED CHAI MILK TEA. That is the scent that jumps out to me. The hominess of full-bodied, sweet cinnamon. The spicy warmth of red chai. Maybe even a little nutty, Spanish almond if you’re feeling crazy.

There is also a gradual build-up here. All earth signs, but primarily Taurus. There is this steady, sensual accumulation of your energy. You cannot be rushed, you savor moments and allow yourself to rest in all the sensations you experience in the present. If you don’t do this, your soul is calling you to do this. Slow down. Chew slower, shower longer, and take time out of your morning to listen to the birds sing. 

The leisurely flow of the universe is inviting you to join its dance. You are safe. You are provided for. The universe is your sugar daddy. Your guides want you to know that what you want, wants you; you just need to slow down.

I sense that your energy is aphrodisiacal. Your sacral chakra is one of your dominant chakras (could be healthy or a leak but it is prominent) and when people enter your presence their chakra gets activated too. People get creative and fiery near you. If their sacral chakra is blocked, this may be repressed and they can hold resentment for the free-flowing energy you have which they feel they lack. 

Abundance. Abundance. Abundance. Abundance. That word is used a lot in this community and you may be tired of hearing it but that's too damn bad! You’re very fucking abundant.

If this puzzles you because you look around and don't see whatever you picture as abundance, it's because it's sitting within you waiting for you to actualize it. You have the skills, the intellect, and everything else under the sun needed to grab your dreams by the balls. I cannot stress this enough.

Go outside, journal, continue your affirmations, and remove yourself from anything lying to you and saying you cannot do this. It is a fucking lie. You have everything it takes to do what the world says is impossible. Shut the world’s opinion out and turn inwardly for your answers, because you have them.  

Ambrosia. Liquid gold. It flows through you. You are the gift. The universe’s greatest gift to you is you. You have the ability to spin anything into gold. 

I have some doomscrollers, spirallers, and people-pleasers in this pile. You may struggle with excess anxiety, digestive issues, acid reflux, and ulcers. Outside influences have tricked you into believing you are a pebble when you’re actually a diamond. 

Baby, you have to cut them off. By “them” I mean all negative energies that cause your mind to get stuck in a loop of self-hate. That includes social media, bad habits, fake relationships. Your solitude will heal you. Your peace of mind will heal you. Once you shut up the naysayers, you’ll finally hear the music that has been drowned out in your body and soul.

I know this is a lot but it is worth the effort. Your potential is worth the effort. A healthy state of mind is worth the effort. You are worth the effort. 

Sidenote: The star and temperance came out while I was cleaning up. BABY YOU A STAR IN THE MF MAKING!

"The great merit of gold is precisely that it is scarce”

✴︎ Pile Three ✴︎ (The World, 6oW, 2oW)

🎵Nowadays, I be duckin' them cameras

And they hype that I'm up on them banners

Callin' my phone, but they know I don't answer (why?)

In the hood, I'm like Princess Diana (grrah) 🎵

✴︎ THE PEOPLE 'S PRINCESS (or prince… orrrr the #1 baddest barnacle in the seven seas, whatever fits).

3, “The creative child” and 6, “The Caretaker” came out. 3 is the number of self-expression and creativity. 6 is the most harmonious number centered around nurturing your community. In the world, you’re the center of attention. In the 6 of Wands, you’re the one decked out in Dolce and Gabanna, playing Robin Hood and giving to the people. In the 2 of wands, you quite literally have the world in your palm.

Your soul’s footprint is destined to be seen and recognized. Baby, you are meant to be loved by the world at large. 

Maybe you have aspirations of becoming an artist, actress, or influencer. If you have dreams of being in the public eye, I am telling you your desires are not coincidental. You are meant for these dreams so do not be afraid to actualize them. The stars are expecting you, your home is in the spotlight.

Everyone incarnates on Earth with a role and purpose, you are meant to have a large platform because what you have to say matters and will elevate our collective consciousness. You have the gift of being able to garner great attention. People like to see you, talk to you, see what you’re wearing, know about your life, and everything else in between. People are like moths to a flame with you, you’re an entertainer to your very core.

You have a youthful, creative, and colorful soul. 

I am getting strong floral scents mixed with a crisp, clean linen smell. Gardenia, Ylnag Ylnag, Cherry Blossom, and Honey Suckle. I just know the bees be tearing your nectary ass up.

You know how Ariana Grande’s perfume line is always sold out? It’s kind of like that. “Oh, Pile Three is wearing this perfume? PUT IT IN THE CART. NEOW.”

Strong Venusian energy. Libra, Taurus, Pisces, 2nd house (especially for my singers), 7th house, Bharani, Purva Phalguni and Purvashada.

People find you very attractive. Yes, physically so, but the true embodiment of beauty stems from the soul. And you are utterly gorgeous. I am getting snow white; the animals flock to her, the sky clears for her, the seas part for her, and the forest protects her.

I am not trying to be redundant but this Earth does not play about you😭. That doesn’t mean you haven’t experienced hardship but trust, you will get the love you crave, tenfold. 

I get the sense that love has felt very conditional in your life and once the metaphorical “love pie” was cut and served, you were served last and there was never enough for you.

I am going to hold your hand as I say this,

Feel this pain. Process this pain fully. Cry all your tears, scream your sorrows out in the open, and let the winds carry it away. Let these feelings of being unloved leave your body because there is no space for them anymore. Eternal love is flowing in to fill those empty cavities. You are so loved. I am so sorry the environment around you has blocked this energy but please know that justice will be served and the love you are karmically owed is growing within you and you will be seen in this lifetime.

COME BACK TO THIS WHEN YOU’RE FAMOUS AND DON’T FORGET ME.

You better not go Hollywood on me 🫵

The Cosmos' Countess

✴︎ Pile Four ✴︎ (The Hanged Man, Knight of Wands, 5 of Swords)

✴︎ Random, but have you heard stories of those cool warrior monks? Who devotes themselves to their practice but when it’s time for battle they whoop ass?? That’s so you, boo.

You’re all peace, love, and light but you don’t fucking play about protecting your peace of mind. I sense that you live an alternative lifestyle. With the hanged man, you see life differently from the average person, and don’t waste your time with the world’s bullshit. 

You’re not on Twitter arguing about Drake’s tummy tuck (BAHAHA I HAD TO), you know shit like this doesn’t add to your life in any way. You focus your energy on activities and discussions that add to your self-evolution. You have made lots of sacrifices in life to progress forward and the universe sees your hard work and is proud of you. Hell, even I’m proud of you. 

You and the Universe like this 🤞. Here’s an affirmation that already rings true but is good to practice anyway, “I surrender to the natural flow of all existence.”

A lot of you study esoteric divinity practices. Tarot, scrying, rune-casting, psychometry, etc. We also have some healers. This may ruffle some feathers. Maybe your family or friend circle doesn’t understand your interests and may push against it but quite frankly… you don’t give a fuck. 

As you shouldn’t.

Your self-resolutions are impressive. You may feel nervous at times but your faith in yourself makes you fearless. You’ve done your studying. You’ve done your healing. You're ready to take the world by storm, and nothing is knocking you off your horse. You are the first to ride into battle and will be the last standing. I don’t know if you’re aware but you thrive in conflict, your soul spirit is akin to Martian energy and loves a good fight, to be honest. 

Your power is in your belief that everything will work out in your favor. “I have the power of God and anime on my side.” 

If you’re not quite at this level yet and you don’t see yourself as this peaceful warrior, you got the “soothe”, “present”, and “friendship” cards. It’s your nerves, baby. It has nothing to do with you as a person. You are smart enough. You are capable. You have everything you need to ride into this new life. 

The entire collective is being asked to slow down. The hustle in society right now does not allow our nervous systems to regulate themselves so everyone is miserable and drained. Remove yourself from this hustle and ground yourself in the present. You have to soothe yourself and lower your cortisol levels. Baby yourself, you deserve it.

Look up techniques to regulate your parasympathetic nervous on YouTube.

Anyway, your soul caught me off guard, you're that sexy mf fr. Ummm back to scent..

YES, okay so please don’t take this the wrong way because I am obsessed with what I'm getting. Hear me out, I used to take kickboxing classes for a few years and that particular gym’s scent was my favorite fucking scent. 

It sounds weird but it smelled like pent-up stress relief: sweat, blood, and Clorox. 

Of course, I’m not saying you smell like this, but this is how I perceive the scent your soul carries.

Your soul’s scent is victory. Particularly, through a bloody means. Your soul understands the purification in blood. Extremely Martian. You’re chill but you’re really fucking intense dude. I like you.

Oooo and also, hang out with friends!! Genuine contact can help relax your body.

Mmmkaye bye!

The Blood You Spill Is The Blood of Kings

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Ask Jeeves: Part One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: Bobby's presence is requested at someone's funeral/will reading. Since he's not here to go, his next of kin will have to do, i.e. you. Sam and Dean make you go thinking they are going to win big. You get something else instead, something deadlier.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

Another motel. Another dull day with the Winchesters. Dean is working on his car while Sam is in the motel room. He requested some "me" time, but you know he probably wanted to jerk one off without you or Dean hearing about it. You're sitting inside the car on the passenger side looking through the glove compartment. There are a bunch of cell phones in there, no doubt John's and your dad's. There is the car's registration and insurance but nothing else of importance.

You groan out in frustration loud enough for Dean to hear. He shuts the hood to look at you through the windshield with a smirk.

"Looking for something?" he asks and wipes his hand on a greasy towel.

"No."

"Are you sure it's not this?" You look up and see Dean holding the remote to the metal piece in your fucking neck. You glare at him and slam the glove compartment shut. "Nice try."

"I'm gonna get that one day."

"Yeah, keep dreaming." He rolls his eyes and shoves the remote into his pocket. Sam walks out of the motel room freshly showered, and Dean turns to him instead of wanting to talk to you. "Hey, any leads on the scanner?"

"Nothing. Not even a cat up a tree."

"Right when we're ready to jump back into it, it goes radio silence," Dean scoffs. "Feel like taking a detour to Connecticut?"

"Why? What's there?"

Dean reaches into his back pocket and takes out a flip phone that belonged to your dad. He tosses the phone to Sam who opens it.

"I found this between dusting and listening to Y/N whine and complain." You glare at Dean from behind. "It's one of Bobby's. It has twenty-seven messages on it. The only one that counts is from two days ago. Apparently, Bobby's been named a beneficiary in Bunny LaCroix's will."

"Bunny LaWho?"

"The attorney said she's an heiress and Bobby's presence or next of kin is being requested in New Canaan. Y/N is his next of kin."

"How did Bobby know an heiress?" Sam asks.

"Bobby had secrets, man. Like loving on Tori Spelling. If he only knew Dean cheated on her. Anyway, road trip? Who knows, maybe Bobby earned us some beer money."

"Yeah, I don't want to go. I don't really care about beer money or a fortune."

"Well, I do. You're the next of kin so you're going."

Dean smirks as he passes by you, and you'd love nothing more than to cut it off him. All three of you pack up your belongings and make the long trip up to Connecticut. The property is like something out of a luxury magazine. There are very expensive cars in the driveway, cars you won't be able to afford. The house is tall and wide and covered with white paint. There isn't a splash of color anywhere. There are even tiles on the ground once you step off the driveway that leads to the front door. Stone white pillars go from top to bottom to hold up the bottom of the balcony that sits atop you.

"Wow, think we're a little underdressed?" Sam looks at their attire in concern. "The Fed threads are in the trunk."

"Are you kidding me? For once, we don't have to wear suits. You're lucky my waistband's not elastic."

Dean presses the doorbell and Beethoven's Fuer Elise plays. A young blonde woman in a maid's attire answers the door

"May I help you?"

"I'm Sam Winchester. This is Dean Winchester and his wife, Y/N. We're here on behalf of Bobby Singer."

The young woman looks around as if she is looking for someone.

"Mr. Singer won't be coming?"

"No, he died painfully as his mind withered away into nothingness," you answer, which earns Dean's elbow in your side.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

"Condolences for your loss, too," Sam says politely.

"Thank you. You just missed the funeral but the family's relaxing inside if you'd like to join. My name is Olivia." Olivia escorts you three inside the very expensive home and into the living room where Bunny's family is. She clears her throat, gaining everyone's attention. "Allow me to introduce Sam, Dean, and Y/N Winchester."

Two women look at Sam and immediately have heart eyes for him. They see how nimble and young he is compared to them and become smitten. You roll your eyes, not interested in Sammy having cougar sex with them.

"Sam, Dean, and Y/N Winchester of the Westchester Winchesters?" one of the blondes asks.

"No, there isn't a relation. Sorry."

"No matter. You two are adorable," she flirts with the brothers.

She slaps Dean's ass as she walks past him, and he jumps in shock.

"I'm Heddy, Bunny's cousin. This is my sister, Beverly." The other woman who had heart-eyes waves at Sam. Heddy points to an older man playing pool on the other side of the room. "That is Bunny's youngest brother, Stanton. Stan for short."

"Come on in, folks. Join the mourning."

There is a really young woman next to Stan who looks like a gold digger.

"Next to him is his child bride, Amber." There is a man who looks to be your age by the liquor bar who smirks when he sees you. "Then there's Dash. That's the baby of the family. He's Bunny's great-nephew."

"How did you guys know Aunt Bunny?" Dash asks and walks over to you.

"We don't," you put bluntly.

"Her dad, Bobby Singer, did."

"Bobby? Never heard of him, but you can fill us in over the weekend," Beverly grins and slinks up to Sam's side.

"The weekend?"

"Didn't the attorney tell you? The service was today and the reading of the will is tomorrow."

"You're welcome to spend the night," Beverly flirts with Sam. "All the rooms sleep two."

"Or three," Heddy says and slaps Dean's ass again.

You roll your eyes and walk away from the brothers to go to the liquor cart. If you're going to be here, then may as well be drunk for it. You pour yourself a double when Dash sinks up to your side.

"What do we have here? If they get to flirt with your brothers, then you're all mine."

You down the double shot and turn to Dash.

"First, I'd rather stick needles in my eyes than entertain you. Second, they're not my brothers. The shorter one is my husband."

"I don't see a ring." You step away from him and he calls after you. "Where are you going?"

"To get needles," you roll your eyes.

"Where's Colette?" Amber asks suddenly.

"She quit." You turn to the entrance of the living room to see the butler standing there. You know he's the butler because of his attire. His name tag says, Phillip. "Poor dear was so distraught over Mrs. LaCroix's passing. She went off to find herself." Philip walks over to you and the brothers and leans in. "May I have a word with you in the hall in five minutes?"

"Sure."

Philip leaves and Beverly turns to Sam. She touches his bicep and squeezes.

"So, Sam, tell me... do you work out?"

"I need another drink." You walk back over to the liquor car and make another double. Someone grabs your arm and it's not your husband. You glare at Dash who grins seductively at you. "I'll break that arm if you continue to touch me." Dean rushes over to you to save Dash for the very real beating you're about to give him. He guides you away with his arm around you. "He got lucky."

"You need to calm down," Dean hisses.

Five minutes later, you three step into the main hallway to meet with Philip who joins you with a manilla envelope in his hands.

"My apologies for being so oblique back there, but I'm doing you folks a favor. As you know, Mrs. LaCroix bequeathed something to your Mister Singer. the reading of the will isn't until tomorrow and I would hate for you to have to stick around and be forced to mingle with the family."

"Don't worry, we know which one the shrimp fork is. Kind of," Dean shrugs.

"Oh, Mr. Winchester, if you're implying that I don't think you're good enough, it's quite the contrary. You're far too good. The LaCroix family is--how shall I say this politely?--money-grubbing leaches."

"What are you talking about? I thought they were all loaded," you state.

"Loaded, yes. Rich, no. The recession hit every one of them, and I'm afraid if they knew what Bunny left you, those vultures would try to stake their claim. Since the attorney kindly agreed to a hand-off, you don't have to be subjected to their scrutiny."

Philip hands over the envelope to Dean.

"Do you have any idea how Bunny and Bobby knew each other?" Olivia enters the hallway and Philip straightens his posture. "Not in the slightest. Now if there's nothing else, shall I have Olivia show you out?"

"No, that's okay. We got it. Thank you."

Olivia and Philip leave you three alone in the hallway. Dean opens the manilla folder only to find a large jeweled cross on a chain. It's bulky and ugly. Why the fuck do you have this?

"What the fuck is this?"

"Maybe it's worth a lot of money."

"If Bunny was banging Bobby, then maybe these rocks are real." Dean grins.

The nearest pawnshop is ten miles away. You have no need for an ugly necklace so they're going to try and sell it for as much money as they can. The worker inside the pawnshop takes one look at the necklace and decides it's not real.

"What do you mean it's not real?" Dean asks, shocked. "The old bag was rolling in it."

"It looks like the old bag's got a soft spot for fake rubies and cubic zirconium." The worker grabs the necklace and inspects it further. "This is interesting though." He pulls the top of the cross away from the rest of the necklace to reveal a hidden key inside. "It's a key."

"A key to what?" Sam asks.

"One way to find out," Dean says.

If the key originated at Bunny's house, then it has to unlock something that's there. You hate the thought of going back there but trudge along knowing they will force you anyway. When you get back, there is a police car in the driveway that stands out like a sore thumb against the luxury. Philip answers the door when Sam knocks on it, and even you can tell this is a bad time to come back.

"Is everything okay?" Dean asks.

"Not really." All three of you enter the house. "I presume you folks left something behind. I'll check the front closet for burlap."

"You two were here earlier?" 

You look up and make eye contact with a detective. He must be the owner of the police car out front.

"Who wants to know?"

He takes out his very real badge and shows it to your husband.

"Detective Howard of New Canaan P.D. Congratulations you three, you're now officially murder suspects."

"Excuse me?" you raise your eyebrows.

"Yeah, Bunny LaCroix's brother, Stanford, was killed this evening. His body's just gone to the morgue."

"You think we had something to do with that?"

"I don't know what to think. That's why you three and anyone else who stepped foot in this house today is being detained for questioning."

"No offense, Detective, but if I was going to kill someone, I wouldn't leave behind so many witnesses."

"Shut up," Dean hisses at you.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[nixie-deangel]

@tothepayne who asked for 💐 💐 ✍️:

💐 serial killer Jake - hangster

He ducks into the nearest building, slipping in as a few drunks stumble out. He wrinkles his nose at the overwhelming smell of beer and despair before sighing as he moves his way through to the back and the bathrooms. Thanking whoever for letting it be empty as he finally opens his jacket enough to let out a groan as he sees the large, still tacky, splatter of blood coating his shirt. “Damnit,” Jake grumbled as he pulled off his jacket, then shirt. Holding it up he debates for half a second to try and get some of it out by running it under the sink faucet. But decides to just toss it. Was too big and tacky to really have any chance of salvaging it. Sides, it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to get himself a new one. But as he stuffs it into the trash can before grabbing some paper towels to try and clean up his chest the best he could, he decides this was the last time he tried to be helpful. If he had known stepping in between the fuckwad and the crying college student would get him covered in a mess this big, he’d have just kept going on his merry way.

✍🏻 insecure bradley - hangster

Freezing at the sudden warmth, sudden contact of Jake pressing along his side. Bradley can’t help but keep tense, to keep still. Afraid if he breathed wrong Jake would move away. Would get up and walk out of Bradley’s house. Out of his life.

No longer taking emojis!

[invisibleraven]

"Not the right time, not the right place." for Rulie, plz and thank you?

Well here we go guys, prompt #1000. And as soon as I got this prompt, I knew what I was going to do. Going back to one of my original OTPs of Niles/Daphne for inspiration again because they will always hold a piece of my soul. As will Rulie, and I hope I managed to do this prompt justice with this fill. Love you all.

The first time they meet, it's love at first sight-for Reggie anyways.

Okay, so maybe not love, but he finds himself disarmed by Julie's beauty, by her kindness, and how different she is from anyone he's ever met. Yet, no matter how attractive he finds her, he won't do anything about it.

For one, she's working for Alfie, helping him recover after his accident, and since Reggie is paying the bills, she's essentially his employee. Secondly he's happy with Kayla-or happy enough. Comfortable after so much time together to be more honest. But that history is also why he can't just throw in the towel to pursue a woman he finds captivating.

So he pines, and glances at her, maybe throws out a line or two to make her laugh, but nothing more.

And he gets to know her. How Julie grew up with a song in her heart, but childhood cancer had destroyed her singing voice. She did musical therapy for a long time, thinking maybe she could just play to heal what she had lost, but it never quite filled the hole. So instead she became a physical therapist, inspired by everyone in her life who had tried to help her recover.

"Well you do an amazing job with it," Reggie stated. "I know Alfie can be grumpy-"

"Hey!" Alfie retorted from his chair, but he was smiling, so there was no heat behind it. "You try rolling your car three times and see how much of a sunny personality you come out with!"

"I was gonna say you've done wonders for him," Reggie continued, rolling his eyes at his brother's antics. "And you've brought us closer as a result."

It was true-after he left home, Reggie lost touch with Alfie, who had never suffered under their father's rage as Reggie himself had. Nor their mother's indifference-Alfie had gotten nothing but their love and admiration, so it had lead to a lot of resentment. However, when Alfie got hurt, Reggie was the first person he called-their parents were off enjoying their retirement, and even though the brothers had been surviving on phone calls at the holidays, Reggie came running.

Now, after a lot of talking, and a few beers during said talks, they were closer than ever. And it was Julie who pushed them to talk, calling them idiots for not taking the second chance life was throwing at them.

Reggie felt he owed her more than he could ever afford to pay her for that push alone. It also didn't help endear her to him any less.

Yet Reggie never said anything. Even as he and Kayla hit the skids for what felt like the hundredth time and Julie dated off and on-mostly handsome guys who didn't offer much besides looks and a good time, Reggie always seemed to miss his chance.

Then Alfie was well enough that he didn't need as much help, and Reggie panicked, thinking this might mean goodbye to Julie. Only she offered to stay-as Alfie's roommate, and she would waive her fee for any therapy he needed for a reduction in the rent.

"I would miss you if you gone," Alfie admitted. "So I think we can work with that. Plus it'll be a big relief to Reggie's pocketbook!"

"I could afford it," Reggie replied with a shrug. "No price is too high to help you out baby bro."

Reggie had done well for himself-sure investments and accounting wasn't the exciting career he dreamed of, but it kept him in comfort, and allowed him to provide for Alfie when he needed it. Plus he did always love numbers and math.

After that, even though he didn't need to check on Alfie as much, he still went over just as often; hanging out with Alfie to catch a game, tending to the stuff around the house he could so Alfie didn't strain himself. Helping Julie in the kitchen.

"I swear I know you two are bachelors, but you don't have to eat like it," she said as she passed him an onion to chop.

"I can do breakfast, and simple stuff," he argued.

"Well that's better than my papi," she chuckled. "I swear he only knows how to make spaghetti."

They chopped in silence for a moment before Reggie chuckled. "We're chopping in rhythm."

"We are!" Julie giggled. She hummed a tune as they kept chopping, and Reggie noticed how she smiled while she did. He knew she missed singing, but this didn't seem to hurt as much as it used to. So he joined in, the two of them making music together as they cooked.

Reggie was going to tell her-she wasn't working for him, they were both single-why not see if they could make something of this?

But his tongue refused to move, and once the oven beeped, the moment was gone. Reggie didn't mind-he would have other chances.

Yet he never took them. Even as they grew closer, joking with Alfie over tv shows they all enjoyed, chatting about astronomy after Reggie lamented not having the space for a telescope in his apartment.

Not even after she came to stay in his guest room after butting heads with the horrid woman Alfie was seeing-and that had taken all of Reggie's restraint, but she was relying on him to be a safe harbour, not make her staying conditional on accepting his feelings.

Finally, Reggie had enough-he had been into Julie for...and embarrassing time now. Years. Even Alfie had caught onto his crush, and had urged him multiple times to say something.

So he got a dahlia-her favourite flower, and went to their place, ready to confess his love. Only to find her getting ready for a date with this new guy, Nick.

"It's okay bud," Alfie assured him. "He won't stick around-they never do."

Only Nick did. He was a nice enough guy, and Reggie was happy for Julie that she finally got herself a good man-he just wished it was him.

Enough was enough, and Reggie decided to go out there and find someone-he had been single for awhile, and maybe that would help him get over Julie.

Viv was exactly what he needed. She was serious, and fastidious, but he liked that about her-it made it feel like a real grown up relationship, not a fling. Plus she treated him well, striving to make him better, looking good on his arm as they went to functions and events.

Reggie just ignored how much more he would rather be with someone who made those events fun-someone with curly hair and a gap toothed smile.

"I think I'm going to ask Viv to move in," he told Alfie some time later.

"Oh, are you guys that serious?" Alfie asked-he wasn't a big fan of Viv, but told Reggie he only cared that he was happy.

"I think so. Seems like the logical sequence of things." Reggie looked around the house. "You doing okay lately? I know Julie hasn't been around much."

"Kinda lonely," Alfie admitted. "But I guess I have to get used to it-I think Nick is gonna pop the question."

Reggie choked on air at that. "Already?"

Alfie shrugged. "I know he went to see Julie's dad-I would assume to ask for his permission."

"Julie hates that kinda shit," Reggie said. "So does Ray." He had met all of Julie's family by this point-and they had practically adopted him and Alfie. They were honorary Molinas by this point, and Reggie had come to think of them as their family too.

"I know-Carlos told me that Ray had to hold himself back from saying anything. Wish he had read him the riot act," Alfie sighed. He looked at Reggie then. "Are you sure about Viv? I always thought you and Julie would figure it out eventually."

"That's old news Alf," Reggie said. "I'm with Viv, she's with Nick."

"You still love her though."

It wasn't a question, and Reggie could do nothing but nod. "I know I shouldn't-I mean, I like Viv-love Viv. But Julie...part of my heart still belongs to her, will probably ways be a little bit in love with her. I just...I lost my chance there Alf, time to move one, try to make the most of what I have."

"I swear if you break out into Love The One You're With I will kick you out," Alfie threatened, causing the two of them to burst into laughter-neither noticing the set of wide brown eyes retreating in a hurry from where they had been looking into the room.

That night, after Reggie had gone, Julie sat down next to Alfie. "Hey hun," he greeted her, handing her a bottle of beer. "Good day?"

"Long day," Julie replied. "But my afternoon appointment cancelled."

"You should have come back! Hung out!" Alfie said.

"I did come back," Julie confessed. "But you were with your brother. I heard you talking."

"What, you didn't want to jump into our discussion over who was the best Starfleet captain?"

"No, Alfie. I heard...I heard Reggie say he was in love with me," Julie said, looking at Alfie, her eyes never moving even as his face contorted. "Is it true?"

"Julie...I think you should probably hear the answer from him-you know, intentionally," Alfie replied.

"That's not a no."

"It's all the answer you're gonna get," he replied. "Unless you wanna tell me how you feel about him."

"You'd only tell him," Julie stated.

"Jules...do you have feelings for Reg?"

"No. Yes. I don't know," Julie confessed. "I mean, he's Reggie! We've been friends for years now, and I know what a great guy he is, and you Peters boys aren't hurting in the looks department. Plus he makes me laugh, and we can talk about everything, and..."

"Julie," Alfie said, taking her hand. "Tell him. You'll be miserable-the both of you-if you don't."

"I can't," she said. "Nick-he asked me to marry him."

"Oh."

"I told him I would give him an answer this weekend, at the holiday party. But I have to say yes right? We're good together, and I love Nick, how can I throw it all away on a chance?"

"Julie, can I say something?" Alfie asked. At her nod he granted her a smile. "You don't want to spend your life wondering about a chance you didn't take. So think about who you'd rather be waiting for you at the end of the aisle-and go from there."

Julie pulled Alfie into a hug at that. "I love you Alfie Peters."

"Love you too Jules."

Only that weekend, at the party, Alfie could see Julie sticking close to Nick, even as her face was all uncertainty. Could see the way Reggie's smile never seemed to reach his eyes as Viv went on and on about maybe finding a space for the both of them together-some place further out, someplace new.

Alfie wasn't one to screw with people's relationships, but these two were his family, how could he not interfere?

With that, he pulled Reggie into a side room. "Julie knows."

"Knows about Nick proposing? I kinda figured," Reggie said.

"No Reg, she knows about your feelings for you," Alfie said. "And I think she feels the same way."

"What?" Reggie squeaked.

"Look Reggie, I told her to tell you, but now she's in full panic mode and you look like you're headed off to Alcatraz instead of co-habitating with your girlfriend. So tell her the truth before that ring goes on her finger-and you make the biggest mistake of your life."

"I can't-"

"You have to, or the both of you will be miserable for the rest of your lives," Alfie promised him. "I'll send her in-just...please Reggie."

"God I hate that I can never say no to you," Reggie said, breathing erratic as Alfie left the room. What was he going to do?

"Reggie?"

He turned, and there was Julie, looking resplendent in a sparkly purple dress, smile brighter than it had been all evening-and Reggie had noticed, but had chocked it up to nerves because she knew what was going to happen and she wasn't one for a big spectacle.

"You look beautiful."

"Thanks," she blushed, then grinned at him. "You clean up pretty good yourself."

"I try." He took a breath. "Listen Julie-Alfie and I were talking."

"Don't," she pleaded.

"Why?"

"Because I know what you're going to say an it's...it's just not the right time Reggie."

"You're right," he conceded. "Not the right time, not the right place. But Julie-I have to say it. If not I never will. And I've been trying and not doing it for years now."

"Years?"

"Pretty much since the moment we met," he said with a nod. "It was just a crush at first-you're beautiful, so who could blame me? But then I got to know you, discovered how much more than your looks you are. How strong you are, how kind, funny, sassy, patient, creative, and yes, beautiful, both inside and out. How could I not fall for you?"

"I'm with Nick."

"And I'm with Viv, but you say the word and I will leave her. I never felt for her even a fraction of what I feel for you. If you want me Julie, I'm yours." Reggie looked at her-the way she was holding herself, the way she wouldn't look at him. God he had screwed this up hadn't he.

"Reggie..."

"I know this sucks, and I have the absolute worst timing," he said. "But I just need you to answer one question; how do you feel about me?"

Julie shook her head and left the room, and Reggie was sure his heart shattered as the door closed behind her. Well, that was that.

He pulled out his phone, telling Alfie he was headed home-there was no way he could stay and watch Julie say yes to Nick.

That night he ended things with Viv-no matter what Julie had answered, he still loved her, and it wasn't fair to Viv to string her along when he knew he wasn't really what she deserved. She didn't take it well, but that was more telling than anything that they weren't well suited.

He was nursing a glass of cider as the clock ticked closer to midnight. Tie hanging loose around his neck, lights off as he watched he lights of the city reflect on the glass of his balcony door.

Then there was a knock on the door.

"Go away Alfie!"

Another knock, and Reggie groaned-knowing his brother wouldn't give up until he opened up or Alfie got fed up enough to use his emergency key. He stalked over to the door, throwing it open.

Only it wasn't Alfie who stood there. It was Julie.

"Hi," he said quietly.

"Hi," she replied. "I was wondering...if you might be free for a date?"

Reggie's smile burst forth, hauling her into a hug. "Oh my god, yes!"

Julie beamed, looking up at him. Pulling him down into a kiss that lit them both up more than the fireworks erupting across the sky. That was sweeter than any dessert, and more loving than any they had experienced before.

They pulled back, foreheads resting together. Reggie couldn't stop smiling. "I love you."

Julie smirked at him. "I know."

"You did not just Han Solo me!" he said, twirling them around, their laughter filling the space.

"I figured you would appreciate it," Julie said, pulling him down so there was only a breath of space between their lips. "And by the way? I love you too."

[ladykailitha]

More Olympic Swimmer AU please! I'm loving this one.

WIP Wednesday! Make me write!

Other asks here.

Snippet

They wrapped up the appointment and Steve drove home to the small apartment he shared with Robin. They could afford a nicer place, but it was perfect for them. Decent rent, okay landlord, and quiet neighbors.

He made it up the stairs, but as he went to put his key in the lock, he stopped. He put this free on the door and leaned his head against its solid surface.

He always felt like a wrung out towel after his sessions with Dr. Hughes. It was just so draining. He knew he was making progress, but it felt so insignificant.

Before he could turn the key, the door opened slowly as to not make him trip on his feet. On the other side of the door was Robin. She gently pulled him inside, closing the door. She sat him on the sofa and then handed him a beer and a large spoon.

[clarepreed]

Micro-Story: Action Park, 1986

Story Summary and Content: - 2,140 words. The infamous waterpark also known as "Traction Park" nearly claims another victim. Drowning, on-site resuscitation.

--

“You’re crazy,” Robert exclaimed affectionately, eyeing his girlfriend Linda. She stood beside him in a neon green bikini and a towel draped over her shoulders, one hand planted on her hip and the other shading her eyes. They were spending their first anniversary at Action Park, an idea that was one hundred percent Linda. He thought the decision was probably tied to her recently getting a job there, which afforded them a discount.

“It looks fun, and I’ve not gotten to try it yet!” Her attention was caught by a long water slide called the Cannonball Loop. It plummeted steeply, then carried riders through an awkward-looking loop before dumping them in a pond. “So far, Rick just has me selling tickets and beer!”

“Didn’t you say someone broke their nose in that thing the other day?” Rick asked.

“Well… yeah, but it’s not like it happens to everybody! And it’s so epic!” Linda reached over and snagged Robert’s arm. “Come on! I’ll go first and you can watch me come out and decide if you want to go. I’ll let you know if I think it will hurt your knee!”

Robert peered up at the ride. He’d hurt his knee in high school, and it still bothered him enough that he hadn’t been able to play college football. “You’re convincing me. You want me to wait down here?”

“Yeah, I think Barbara will let me skip the line to ‘test’ the slide. They do that all the time, and Rick can bite me if he has a problem.” She smacked her gum a few times and then swallowed it with a gulp. “Didn’t want to choke on that. Hold my towel and my shoes?”

“Sure thing, babe.” He took her thong sandals and her towel, and she gave him a quick kiss. “What about your sunglasses?”

“Oh, yeah, don’t wanna lose those. Every body of water in this place is just filthy with broken sunglasses at the bottom.” She sat her sunglasses on top of his head. “Thank you! I’ll be down in no time!”

With that, he watched her turn and run up the hill, providing him with an excellent view of her ass as she jogged. Once she’d made it to the end of the line, Robert walked down to where spectators gathered to watch riders come out of the end of the tube.

The first thing he noticed was that the pool at the end wasn’t particularly deep; it looked like a large depression in the ground covered by the world’s widest Slip ‘N Slide. A man shot out of the end as Robert approached, skidding through the water before finally slowing. He staggered to his feet, pale-faced but grinning.

Robert looked up at the wooden stairs at the head of the slide, wondering if he’d be able to tell when it was Linda’s turn. It wasn’t long before another man spewed out of the tunnel, face down and feet first. That man rolled over on the water and then surged to his feet, a stream of watered-down blood spraying from his mouth.

“Fuck! Busted my damn lip!” the man said. He sloshed his way out of the water just in time for a teenage boy to drop from the end of the tube, yelling as he caught air.

Several more people came through, and he never saw Linda on the stairs. He was getting hot and wished they’d built some shade by the end of the ride.

I wonder if Barbara refused to let her in front, he thought. She’ll be mad if—

A slim woman in a neon green bikini popped out of the slide, head first and face down. She shot along the surface of the pool, her body coming to rest halfway down the length. She did not roll over, or flail her arms, or thrash her way to her feet.

The small crowd at the base of the ride fell silent.

Linda bobbed gently in the shallow water, her mane of wavy hair floating in clumps around her head.

A woman let out a scream, the sound breaking through Robert’s momentary stupor. He dropped their things in the weedy grass at his feet and started pushing his way through the growing crowd, trying to reach the sorry excuse for a barricade built to separate the spectators from the pool.

“Hey!” a man shouted. “No need to push!”

“That’s my girlfriend!” Robert exclaimed.

“Where’s the lifeguard!” someone shrieked. “There’s usually a guy here! Where’d he go?!”

Robert pushed past another gawking man and went under the barricade, hurrying over to the pool. Linda was still motionless, her arms and legs spread out in the water. He hurried into the pool, shoes and all, slipping and sliding as he made his way to her body.

“Linda!” he called out, grabbing her shoulders and turning her over. “Linda!”

Linda’s face was ashen beneath her tan, and a cut ran just beneath her left eyebrow. Both of her eyes were open to slits. Her lips had taken on a bluish cast. As he watched, a rivulet of water trickled from her nose. Robert shook her, then pulled her close, heaving her torso out of the water. He leaned his ear close to her mouth and waited.

“HOLD!” he heard someone shout. “DON’T SEND ANYONE ELSE! STOP! SOMEONE DROWNED!”

He felt nothing from Linda, no reassuring puff of air against his cheek. Robert reached down to slip his arm under her legs, intending to carry her to the flat grass along the edge. Another man was suddenly there, helping Robert as he thrashed up out of the water, his feet struggling for purchase. 

Robert laid Linda out in the grass, trying to be careful with her head.

“I’m going to go get help,” the man said. “No one in this fucking place seems to know anything happened!”

“Linda!” Robert exclaimed again, staring down at his girlfriend. He had his CPR merit badge from the Boy Scouts, and he’d taken a class at the local YMCA a couple of summers ago, but he still felt uncertain. He kept expecting her to bolt upright and cough up water on her own, after which she’d fill him in on what happened with Barbara.

She’s going to die if you just stare at her!

Robert sucked in a breath and sealed his mouth over Linda’s, belatedly pinching her nostrils closed as he exhaled. Her cheeks puffed out, but he couldn’t tell if the air made it to her lungs. He tried again, blowing more forcefully this time, and saw her chest expand.

“You have to get the water out!” Someone shouted. “She can’t breathe if she’s full of water!”

Robert saw a flash illustration run through his mind of a rescuer straddling a drowning victim and pushing into their stomach. He glanced up, realizing people had moved closer, gatheringin a circle but seemingly unwilling to help. Robert leaned down and gave Linda another breath. This time, he heard a gurgling sound as his air moved in and out of her lungs.

Scuttling around, Robert swung his leg over her hips and clasped his hands together. After a brief hesitation, he pressed his hands to her stomach, just above her navel. Then he shoved, wincing as her chest heaved and her shoulders shrugged. He shoved again, and her head lolled to the side, water trickling from her mouth.

“Come on, Linda!” he exclaimed, grunting as he pushed into her a third time. This time, he heard another gurgling sound and water sprayed out of her with force. He shoved a fourth and fifth time, his hands digging into her belly and her body emitting wet huffing sounds. “Cough it up, babe!”

He pushed again, and she made a hurk! sound. Bubbles slid from her nose, frothing over her blue lips. He thrust into her abdomen one more time, worried by the color of her mouth.

“Take a breath! Come on!” Robert crawled off of her and slid a hand under her neck, roughly opening her airway before he pinched her nose. Her lips felt cool and slack when he covered them with his own, forcing air into her lungs. Her cheeks rounded, and her bikini-covered breasts rose, but each time his air rushed back out of her and she made no effort to move or breathe.

After he gave her another breath, Robert pressed his fingers into the slim column of her neck.

“Does she have a pulse?” someone asked.

He couldn’t tell. He held his fingers there, waiting to feel the rush of blood against his fingers.

“I don’t know!” he exclaimed. He leaned down and gave her another breath. “Linda!”

“You gotta do CPR,” a woman said, her nasal voice almost droll. “If she doesn’t have a pulse you have to pump her chest.”

“Where’s a goddamn lifeguard?!” a man shouted.

Richard’s hands shook, but he moved over her, pressing the heel of his clasped hands between her breasts. Then he rolled his shoulders forward so that his weight sank down, pushing into her sternum. He did remember this part. He was supposed to push two inches at a rapid pace. He couldn’t remember what that pace was, exactly, so he just went for it, bobbing up and down and counting under his breath.

“…five, six, seven, eight…”

More water burbled up from between Linda’s lips, and he heard a sucking sound when he recoiled. Her stomach popped up each time he pressed down, her shoulders rising up slightly off the ground.

“…fourteen, fifteen!” Robert leaned down and pressed his mouth to Linda’s again. He had to keep his mouth wide to properly cover her lips, and blowing into them felt strange. But her chest rose and fell both times, and then Robert resumed chest compressions.

“One, two, three…” Linda’s open, unfocused eyes looked down her nose at him as he worked, her head nodding with each pump of her chest. “…seven, eight, nine…”

“I’ll take over breaths!” A young woman dropped down by Linda’s other side. Her wide eyes took in the scene. “I’m a lifeguard! Not here, at the rec center!”

Then she bent over, carefully opened Linda’s airway, and gave her two slow breaths.

Robert started pumping Linda’s chest again, trying not to wince at the feeling of her bones shifting under his hands. Short, gurgling puffs of air escaped her lips, and the young lifeguard turned Linda’s head to the side, letting more water trickle out.

“…nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen!”

The lifeguard’s cheeks puffed out, followed by Linda’s. If he looked carefully, he could see her throat swell briefly before her chest rose. Another breath, and then Robert was back at it.

“One, two, three, four, five…”

“I heard they called an ambulance!” a man said. “Still haven’t seen a single damn employee!”

“…fifteen!”

The lifeguard gave Linda another pair of slow, deep breaths and then tipped her head to the side, letting a small amount of water drop out into the grass.

“One, two, three—” Linda’s abdomen lurched and her chest heaved. Robert pumped twice more, and then Linda’s head twisted to the side. She vomited up a stream of water.

“On her side!” the lifeguard said, and together they rolled Linda toward Robert.

“Linda? Oh my God! Linda, take a breath!” Robert crouched down so he could see her face. Her eyes were closed now, mouth gaping. Color was returning to her face as pink splotches. Linda gagged, and the lifeguard reached around and swept her finger between Linda’s teeth. 

Robert leaned down on his elbow and reached out with his other hand to push her hair out of her face, uncovering the wound over her eye. Linda wheezed and gasped, barking out painful-sounding coughs.

Then her eyelids fluttered open, and she looked around in confusion. 

“Hey, you’re okay!” Robert rubbed her arm, clinging to her like she might slip away from him. He felt a strong need to keep touching her now that she was awake and breathing. “You got knocked out in the Cannonball, babe.”

“What?” she croaked, trying to lift her head. Her left eye looked swollen.

“You had an accident. But it’s okay! You’re going to be alright now.” Robert leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Jesus Christ, babe.”

“I guess…” she coughed, then continued: “Don’t do it. You’ll… hurt your knee…”

“What? I’ll hurt my knee,” Robert muttered. “I’ll hurt my knee!”

“I love… you, Robert…”

“Oh, hey…” This was not a word they’d used yet, not even after a year. But he thought about how awful he’d felt when her limp body washed out of the slide, and how happy he felt now. He kissed her forehead again. If this feeling wasn’t love, he didn’t know what love felt like. “I love you, too, babe.”

[archoniluthradanar]

The test of a vampire : A Beauty and the Beast re-telling Part Two

The test of a vampire : A Beauty and the Beast re-telling

Marcus dei Volturi x female OC

Caterina finally meets the man her father is indebted to. She finds him downright unfriendly, but beneath it all, she will eventually sense there is something he is hiding.

Chapter Two

The Agreement

oooooooooooooooooooo

The tall man in black led Caterina through the back doors, shutting them once she was inside. "Follow me," was all he said. They proceeded down a long corridor, passing spaced apart doors, some open, some closed, until he stopped in front of one. "This will be your room." He opened the door, letting Caterina pass through first. He came after, setting her bags on a large bed covered in a soft comforter. "Stay here," he said. "Someone will come for you later to bring you to meet Master Marcus. Please, do not try to leave your room, at least not without someone to escort you." He then left the room, closing the door behind him.

Caterina looked around at what she hoped was her temporary home. She tested the bed with her hand, finding it firm but not too hard. There was a side table with a lamp, a desk that sat in the left corner, a wardrobe against the far right wall, and double doors that opened onto a Juliet balcony. Leaving them open, she walked to another door to find a nice sized bathroom with a bath/shower combination. Toiletries were arranged on the sink's countertop. Towels were hanging on a rack, with others folded on a shelf beneath the sink. It was far from the spartan room she had expected, and much nicer than what she had at home.

She thought of her father and felt a sudden melancholy. She hadn't been gone long, yet missed him already. She hoped he would be able to manage without her. Caterina decided it would do her no good to cry, that she just had to get the debt paid off as soon as possible so she could go home. She had noticed during her inspection the lack of a phone in her room. Her father could not afford a cell phone so they managed with the less than modern technology of a landline. Still, she hoped her employer would let her call home once in a while.

Caterina left the bathroom and walked back to the bed to unpack her clothing. When she opened the wardrobe door, she found some clothes already there. There were extra hangers for her use, so she hung up her shirts and a couple of plain dresses, then packed her pants and underthings in the drawers. Her hands brushed over the pieces already there, surprised to find they didn't feel inexpensive. How did they even know her size, she wondered. Tucking her bags into the back corner of the wardrobe, she went to lie down on the bed. She would nap until someone came for her.

Guiseppe had come to Mario's cottage to see Caterina. He had become besotted of her the first time he had seen her at the farmer's market held in the village every weekend. Her long brown hair and hazel eyes had instantly entranced him. It was then he decided he would have her for his wife. Unfortunately, she had no such feelings about him. He was a brute in her eyes, uninterested in anything but hunting. He would spends days off in the countryside, looking for prey to bring home. He would brag to her about the animals he would catch to bring home, with a vision of Caterina preparing them for his meals. She was disgusted by Guiseppe however. He always smelled of tobacco, beer, and sweat. He hated reading, and she feared if she was forced to marry him, he would take away all her books. Being here and away from him was the only good thing about her servitude to this Master Marcus.

When Caterina awoke, she noticed the shadows in her room had lengthened. She looked at the clock to see it was after 3:00 pm. When she rubbed her eyes, her stomach also reminded her of the time. She was hungry, but where to find food. She'd been told she would get to eat before meeting her taskmaster.

There was a knock on her door, prompting Caterina to run to the bathroom to wash her face and run the brush through her hair. She straightened her clothing and went to the door, opening it. It was the tall silent man who had showed her to her room.

"Hello, miss. I was told to take you to the kitchen now, if you're..."

"Hungry. Yes, I am, thank you." She slipped on her shoes and smiled up at the man. "What is your name, if I may ask."

"I'm Felix. Come this way." He led her down corridor after corridor. How would she learn the maze of this place if she was supposed to be cleaning it? What she did like was the number of paintings she saw hanging on the walls as they passed by. Were they real or mere copies? She'd have to ask Master Marcus when she met with him.

"Felix, when will I be meeting Master Marcus?"

"You will meet him when he calls for you." After passing through a wider corridor, Caterina saw a large room to her left. It was brightly lit, the sun coming through skylights lining a large dome. There were pillars all around, and in the time it took to pass the open doors, she saw words in Latin lining the upper portion near the ceiling. She hoped to get the royal tour of this place. What little she saw so far was proving to be fascinating.

Finally, the pair reached the kitchen. A man wearing a full apron asked her to take a seat at a long table. He set a plate in front of her. "If you want more, just ask, miss."

"Did you cook all this? It looks delicious." She noticed Felix standing just inside the kitchen door. "You're not eating?"

"I have already eaten," Felix said, lookig straight ahead. When he thought the human was not looking, he would sneak a glance at the master's new housekeeper.

Giving a small shrug, Caterina started her meal of roast beef, new potatoes, steamed vegetables, and fresh hot bread. Everything tasted wonderful, and she found herself devouring her food quickly. When the chef had seen she'd finished, he offered her a large piece of chocolate cake with a glass of cold milk. Caterina noticed plates lined up on the counter being filled with food by someone else. So there were other staff members here, but then, why did she have to eat alone?

She also assumed those who lived here didn't eat in the kitchen. There must be a separate dining room for them. It just made her want to be given a tour of the castle all the more. But, no, that would not be possible. After all, she was just another worker here, no better than a servant.

Once she finished her dessert, she thanked the man she assumed was the chef and went over to Felix. "I'm done. Now what?"

"I'll take you to Master Marcus."

Caterina followed Felix out of the kitchen and back into the maze of corridors. She realized her hands were trembling. She was finally going to meet the man who had taken her from her father and her home without any consideration. "Felix, what kind of man is Master Marcus?"

"Just be respectful, answer any questions truthfully, and do what you're told."

Well, that told her what was expected of her, not what he was like. She held hands together, trying to stop them from shaking. Sometimes, she would accompany her father to the market, and meeting their customers was part of the fun. Never had she been so afraid to meet someone until now.

Felix stopped at a set of double doors made of heavily carved wood. He reached up with a hand and knocked. A voice came from inside the room, telling them to enter. Opening the doors, Felix stepped aside for his young charge to go in, then shut the doors and waited outside.

When Caterina entered the room behind Felix, she saw a tall man but one not quite as tall as her escort. He was in the center of the ante-room, standing impossibly straight in a plain black suit with a black shirt and tie, his hands behind his back. She glanced down at the rug on the floor, afraid to look up at him, but long, cold fingers moved beneath her chin, forcing her to look up. It was then she saw he had long dark hair and skin so pale, he must never go out into the sun. His brown eyes gazed at her with no evident emotion.

Talking an involuntary step backwards, Caterina decided she had to be brave, and show it. It wouldn't do to have this man think he could walk all over her.

Marcus walked around the young woman, satisfied with her appearance. He wondered what her personality was like. As long as she wasn't uneducated, frightened to the point of being useless, or too defiant, he would let her stay. How many other servants had been dismissed, permanently, due to incompetence or their constant inclination to run away? None had proven defiant though, once the fear took over.

He decided she was pretty enough and strong too, thus acceptable. He was glad to see she was not some ill-fed waif. "Tonight, you will dine with me. Seven o'clock. Be ready promptly. Felix will bring you to me."

She flinched at what sounded like an order. So this is what she was going to have to deal with.

"I will tell you then what I expect of you as far as your duties are concerned. You will be my personal maid. We have staff to take care of the palazzo, so you will be responsible for me and my rooms alone. Anyway, we will talk about this later. Have you any questions?"

"Not at the moment, sir...uh ...Master Marcus. I'm yours to do whatever work you require of me, for the time I'm here." There, so at least he knows she doesn't plan on staying forever.

"Very well, that will do for now, Caterina. We will talk later." Marcus stood before the woman, detecting some spirit within her, but he was not surprised at her initial timidity. Humans, like animals, had some innate sense to not trust his kind. He abruptly turned his back on her and walked to his bedroom.

So she was being dismissed? At least he knew her name. Caterina hadn't known if she should introduce herself, since he hadn't asked her for it. Felix came in, oddly knowing when the audience was over. She followed him out into the corridor.

Felix gave her an encouraging smile and led her back to her room. "I think you will do fine. Master Marcus is not the easiest to serve. Kindness is not a strong point, but he has endured much over the cen...over time. He can have fits of anger as well. Avoid those if you can."

Caterina nodded absently, her mind filled with a mix of emotions. Curiosity, interest, excitement, and yes, fear.

Marcus paced in his bedroom, thinking about his new maidservant. She was better than he had expected. Perhaps he would be able to create a bond between them in time, and she would agree to stay with him. No one before her had proven to be suitable. Marcus wanted this to work. He needed it to work.

Sitting in his favourite chair, the vampire contemplated his fate. His human existence in Greece had been cursed by a powerful witch many hundreds of years ago. when he had insulted her by refusing her hospitality during a night storm. The result was she had taken his humanity away and turned him into a vrykolakas, a vampire.

If you choose to show no compassion to anyone, your heart will cease to beat, yet you will live on as a creature who must feed off the humans you so callously ignored. You will remain alone in your life, unloved by anyone. Until such time you find a woman who can accept you as you are, one for whom you can feel true love, this will be your existence.

Marcus wasn't alone. He was with his brothers in blood, Aro and Caius. The Guard protected them and this castle, as well as patrolled the vampire world to keep their kind in line. But he was a lonely man who longed for the touch of a woman, someone to talk with, someone with whom to share his existence. Would Caterina be the one?

A/N : So Caterina has met her employer, someone who is an instant mystery to her. Will the two come to a mutual agreement of live and let live, or will sparks fly.

[purpleqilinwrites]

make room.

a/n: having thoughts about slice of life anime utahime because i am recently obsessed with the ice guy and cool female colleague anime! (do not perceive me for i binged the entire thing in one night .)

fandom: jujutsu kaisen

character: iori utahime

genre: fluff

info: non-sorcerer au; utahime is your neighbour

warnings: -

synopsis: you were only supposed to stay for a while, but utahime doesn't want you to leave.

word count: 1.3k

fluff-vember prompt: kindness from a stranger

fluff-vember 2023 masterlist is here.

Iori Utahime

Utahime wasn't used to coming home to someone.

Ever since she moved out of her parent's house after graduating from high school, she quickly came to the conclusion that living alone suited her the best. In the first year of university, she had lived on campus and shared a dorm room with three other girls. Adjusting to communal living proved too irksome for her since she was an only child, and she decided to take on a part-time job at a local izakaya to afford a studio apartment some distance from her university.

She has lived that way ever since. Even when it was clearly more affordable to have a roommate to split the cost of rent with, she lived alone, and she was happy that way.

The window to her apartment was open, and there was a smell of hot oil mixed with chicken fat wafting out to the corridor as she approached. Utahime fought back the urge to recite the standard greeting phrase for when a customer walked in, an old habit from her waitressing years.

"Utahime-san, welcome back!" you called out from her kitchen, aware of her presence since the door creaked when she pushed it open. She removed her shoes in the entryway and pushed them to the side, before she stepped over the threshold into the living room.

"I'm home," she said, and it was beginning to taste familiar on her tongue.

You rushed to round the corner to the living room, wiping your hands on a patterned tea towel clipped onto the bottom hem of your shirt. "Dinner will be ready soon!" you said, shooing her away from the kitchen. Instead, Utahime tiptoed to look over your head, and you moved to block her view.

"Please don't worry about the mess! I'll take care of it after," you said, putting a hand on her arm to steer her towards the couch. She allowed you to usher her to her seat, laughing when you made a show of fluffing the decorative pillow for her.

Utahime collapsed into the plush backrest of the couch, suddenly feeling the tiredness of her day weighing on her. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched you scurry back into the kitchen."What are you making?" she asked, inhaling deeply and feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over her. The dinner you were in the process of making smelled like izakaya fare, and her stomach involuntarily rumbled at the thought.

"Yakisoba and karaage! And beer, of course," you said, smiling. "Making your faves as a little 'thank you' for letting me crash these past few weeks! Couldn't have done without your kindness, is all." With that, you disappeared back into the kitchen to get back to cooking.

This entire week, you were the one making the trips to the grocery store and cooking meals for two. Utahime, while perfectly capable of preparing herself something healthy and balanced to eat, strongly preferred not to. Buying ingredients and keeping the house stocked with essentials was a chore she never enjoyed, and you were the solution to her problem for the week, going so far as to even cover her share of the groceries when she refused to accept money for rent.

She knew she'd miss you once you moved into your own apartment.

It was a stroke of good fortune – 'serendipitous', just like the word of the day she received in her email in the morning – that the apartment you were supposed to move into was still occupied when you arrived. Sharing her space with you was a very different experience from when she was a student, crammed in a room with three other girls who made the room feel much smaller than it actually was. Living together was easy, with you. It was nice.

You emerged from around the corner with two plates of yakisoba, the glistening yolks of the fried eggs on top winking at her. Utahime immediately straightened in her seat. "Let me help," she said, getting up from the couch and ducking into the kitchen before you could stop her.

"No, I got it!" you said, jumping into the spot behind her to keep her from bringing the rest of the food to the dining table. She tightened her hands around the large platter of karaage, shouldering her way around your flailing arms. You laughed, and it made her laugh too, and she was confident she never felt so at home in any place before this moment.

"I hope you don't mind," you said, the stainless steel buffet-style serving pan Shouko had gotten her as a gag birthday gift making its appearance from the depths of one of her kitchen cabinets. She could count at least half a dozen cans of beer in it, shoved into the mass of crushed ice you filled it up with.

"It's alright. I wouldn't have a use for it otherwise," she said with a smile, meeting you halfway to hold up the other side of the serving pan. "You know I don't do much entertaining."

You removed the tea towel clipped to your shirt and laid it on the dining table in place of a trivet, and the two of you set the serving pan full of beer and ice down.

When you settled into the other chair, she was glad that she had taken her mother's advice and bought a pair of chairs instead of just one. She had insisted that she wouldn't be hosting any dinners, earnestly citing the size of her apartment and the singular cooker hob in her kitchen as her reasons to refuse hosting. Her mother gently insisted, and she furnished her apartment accordingly: two dining chairs, two full sets of cutlery and dinnerware, a couch and a dining table and a bed that were all big enough for two.

Utahime helped you clean up after dinner, even if you maintained that you were just paying her back for letting you stay. It felt natural to wash the dishes at the too-small sink, while you stood to her left as you dried them off before returning them to the dish rack beside the toaster oven.

You were sitting on the living room floor when she was done with her shower, your luggage open as you rolled up your clean clothes to slot them in between the bits and pieces of your belongings that you've retrieved from around her apartment. She took a long look around the place, and it looked quite lifeless without your things blending in with hers.

Maybe you were the other person her mother wanted her to make room for. Maybe—

"You don't have to go, you know?" She called your name and came to kneel beside you on the floor. You momentarily stopped fiddling with the stubborn hoodie sleeve that refused to cooperate with your rolling, and you looked up.

"If your cousin's still living in the other apartment with their boyfriend, you don't have to go," Utahime said, her heart oddly calm for a moment like this. Wasn't it supposed to be something nerve-wracking to ask someone to move in with you? There was a severe lack of those butterflies her coupled friends often spoke of, and she knew it was because things felt easy, natural with you.

She watched the realisation of what she asked dawn on you. Like the dark blue night with the coming of the first rays of the morning sun, your face brightened. You scooped up her hands in yours, squeezing. "Then I won't go," you said.

[fadelbison]

“ i remember our first kiss. ”

@kun-is-my-daddy had prompted the same thing and theoretically he will be getting his other prompt filled. I am sorry for trying to write collapsing timelines after getting high, knowing full well that tenses are my ultimate enemy. I hope you like this and this makes more sense to you than my poor brain going and WHICH LEO IS THIS AGAIN

----

title: and we are here

pairing: kunessi

rating: PG-13 It takes some time for them to return to their room. It’s partly because Leo can’t move an inch without five people seeking his attention but also because - holy shit - they’ve finally done it.

All of them. 

And Kun wants to be with his teammates because it’s not just a game or a tournament, is it? It’s every day and every year they have spent together, it’s every failure and success, it's every person who’s gotten into this jersey and dreamed these dreams together. 

Kun wishes he were younger so that he could share it with those he looked up to, the way the kids look at him. He wishes he were younger so that it would feel less final, swimming in a sea of possibility instead of finally finishing a marathon that he’s been running his whole life. With Nico screaming in his ear it's easy to forget that it's a race he technically never finished. Leo has the good sense to seek out a towel so they can dry off the collective sweat of the albiceleste and celebration beer off them. He throws them onto one of the freshly made beds, in particular Kun’s he notes, and grins at him. They look at each other like that, stupid grins cutting through the moment thick with awe and disbelief, and then Leo’s hand is curling into the back of his neck and pulling him in.

He feels overcome with a different kind of madness, where the enormity of what they have achieved for the briefest of seconds allows him to feel everything all at once; every up and every down, every moment of loss and euphoria they have weathered together right there at the seams of his lips that Leo is drinking in. 

And still it overflows, desire wrapping around them, contentment within the warmth of Leo’s arms as they tumble backwards and onto the bed Leo caging him in.

Cariño

Leo whispers softly above him and it feels like coming full circle, looking up at Leo and having the intensity of that gaze trained on him, hearing the word for the first time said with a tinge of something shifting between them and those beginnings stretching out now to this moment, Leo’s hand sure on his hips, his face full of wrinkles they drew together.

Kun pulls Leo down to himself with a boldness he had to fake all those years ago, now filled with a desperation that almost rivals the quiet longing for Leo that had overflowed in the ecstasy of being young and swimming in a sea of possibility, of winning the Olympics together. Leo’s body sets him ablaze now as it did when he was shy and awkward but no less determined, kissing Kun with furrowed eyebrows and a blossoming devotion that had charmed him so thoroughly.

Leo pulls away from him slowly, rather regretfully, his body feels like it’s being peeled away from Kun’s like the opposing poles of magnets. Leo had pulled away from him then too, both of them hard and a desire crackling between them that could only be tempered by the desire to do this right. So they had stayed awake that night cuddled together, the axes of possibility running as strong between them as it did for their futures.

But today Leo has responsibilities, egos to juggle and reporters to satisfy and they could afford themselves this stolen moment together only because they had to, only because it felt like he was slowly buzzing out of his own body and could feel the same happen to Leo. Leo places a soft peck on Kun’s lips on his way out, the anticipation of later already building. Kun feels a bone deep satisfaction at watching him go. He feels again like that boy giddy in Leo’s embrace. He lets that boy see him as he is today with his graying beard and treacherous heart and feels that, perhaps, he did good by him.

[clarktooncrossing]

HEY THERE PEOPLE OF TODAY AND ROBOTS OF TOMORROW! IT'S ME, CLARK! There is a madness deep in the dark catacombs of Castle Clarkenstein. For years these claustrophobic corridors have been the home of the ghoulish giraffe himself, watching as the world passes by. He prefers it this way. It gives him more time alone with the voices. The voices tell him many strange things. Yet they always come back to one: make more monsters! Everyday they tell him this. Everyday he is unable to comply. Hey, being a mad scientist on a budget means he can’t afford the fancy scientific equipment needed to breathe life into newborn abominations. Guy’s gotta afford pizza somehow. Luckily, he has discovered a way of sorts to please the voices. During all those years of watching, Dr. Clarkenstein noticed a particular pattern. Every night during October saw artists posting new pictures based on peculiar prompts. Many of them based on children of the night. While the spotted specter might not be able to craft new zombies, he can sure as heck sketch’m! As such, I provide this friendly warning to you all now: Be afraid. Few people can survive the horrors that are DUDELZ of the Damned!

By that I mean I decided to do my own take on Sketchtober this year just minus the prompts. Anybody gotta problem with that? Tough, cuz I already drew this crap so you might as well check it out.

Octoberfair has returned to Clarksburg! Based on the German festival of a similar name, adults are invited to partake in food and beer sampling while the kids run around and play. Since this is an Americanized version of the event, naturally the events lean heavily on Halloween theming more than fall itself. Hence carnival attractions like The Haunted House, Down the Zombie, a FEARis Wheel, and of course the Creepy Corn Maze! It’s here we find Bumper and Xena, the two out to have fun as Crocie feeds on pumpkin-spiced funnel cake in the main tent. Bumper would’ve stayed with his fat friend for it not for Xena presenting her pal with a wager. Should he escape the corn maze before her, without the aid of any of his phantom powers, he may pick their Halloween costumes for this year. Having the perfect costumes in mind, Bumper accepted his alien friend’s terms, thinking this would be a piece of pumpkin pie. About a minute in was enough to prove the little ghoul wrong. He was constantly set upon by scare actors whenever he wasn’t lost in the paths of corn. Just as the floating marshmallow was about to throw in the towel, a rustling noise made its way through the stalks. His fear was immediately replaced by interest when the source of the noise turned out to be a black cat named Kiki. Like always, it didn’t take long for Bumper to befriend the feline, who led Bumper out of the maze. Xena followed close behind, congratulating her best buddy on a job well done. When asked how he did it, the ghost revealed he had some help. Yet when he turned to introduce Xena to Kiki, the cat was gone. What happened to her?

Who knows, cuz she’s not gonna be a recurring character. Sorry folks, the Samp Gang doesn’t need a pet. Their quota of mostly silent, largely adorable companions has already been met by the giggling lil’ ghouly himself. Adding a cat to the mix would just complicate things and draw attention away from our main four heroes. If I’m feeling nice I’ll have Kiki pop up in future Halloween pictures, but for now I just wanted to draw Bumper being friendly to a black cat. Personally I’ve always thought it was weird how they were associated with bad luck when they’re such adorable fuzzballs. Considering Crocie’s stories are about finding kindred spirits in the most peculiar places, I figured a black cat would fit the bill nicely. Of course I had to name it after one of my favorite cartoon witches, but I had trouble deciding on either Luz or Kiki. Only after I ran the names and sketch by my friend @the-pale-servant did I settle for Kiki. I hope you all enjoy her and this DUDEL!

MAY THE GLASSES BE WITH YOU!

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday.

Most women prefer to have sex in the dark.

There’s a fountain in Italy that dispenses free wine 24/7.

Smiling is 70% more attractive than wearing make-up.

The average man has 11 erections a day and nine at night.

Other people are not having as much sex as you think they are.

Leonardo da Vinci could draw with one hand and write with the other.

Every Pixar movie contains a reference to the Pixar movie that comes after it.

For every $1000 a record company makes, the average musician gets $23.40.

Women are more influenced by how a man smells rather than how he looks.

Sex acts as a tranquilizer and can be up to ten times more effective than Valium!

Volkswagen's best-selling product isn't a car, it's their Currywurst Pork Sausages.

Singing helps form and strengthen the emotional bond between a group of people.

The Russians arrived 12 days late to the 1908 Olympics because they were using the wrong calendar.

The penis has about 4,000 nerve endings. The clitoris has between 8,000 and 15,000 nerve endings.

In 1932, a 56-year-old man named Thomas Earl was fired, mauled by a bear, and shot by the police, all on the same day.

Lonely people take longer, hotter showers or baths to replace the warmth they're lacking socially or emotionally.

No relationship is ever a waste of time. If it didn't bring you what you want, it taught you what you don't want.

Shakira was rejected for her school choir in the second grade because her music teacher thought she sounded "like a goat".

You have a second brain in your gut called the Enteric Nervous System. This is where the term 'gut feeling' comes from.

The actor John Cazale acted only in five films, all of which either won or were nominated for the Academy Award for Best Picture.

Respect people who find time in their schedule to see you. Love people who never look at their schedule when you need them.

In 2018, Munafri Arifuddin ran unopposed for mayor of Makassar, Indonesia. He lost the election to "None of the above".

The word ‘vulva’ and the brand name ‘Volvo’ come from the same Latin word ‘volvere’, meaning ‘to turn, twist, roll, revolve’.

A statue of Hercules in Arcachon, France, has had its penis stolen so often it’s been given a detachable one for ‘special occasions’.

Vaginas are only 3-5 inches deep. Anything more than that presses on other organs like your bladder, which can make you pee during sex.

You are under no obligation to be the same person you were a year, month, or even 15 minutes ago. You have the right to grow. No apologies.

Researchers at the University of California confirmed that when you are in love, everyone other than your beloved really does seem less attractive.

Masturbating regularly can improve focus and concentration by increasing neurotransmitters involved in learning, memory and motivation.

Studies show that slow music makes people shop leisurely and spend more, while classical music encourages people to buy more expensive items.

A study of Swedish jackpot lottery winners has found that, after a win, men are more likely to get married and women are more likely to get divorced.

In the 1990s, Denzel Washington stepped in and paid the fees for a kid who couldn't afford to attend Oxford's summer theatre program. That student was Chadwick Boseman.

It takes about 50 hours of socializing to go from acquaintance to casual friend, an extra 40 hours to become a real friend, and 200 hours in total to become a close friend.

In 2006, Croatian band Let 3 were fined for performing nude in public. Their defence that they weren’t naked because they had cork plugs in their anuses was not accepted by a judge.

In 1987, sales of Corona dropped because of a rumour that Mexican brewers were peeing in the beer before shipping it to the U.S. Against the odds, Corona was able to trace the rumour back to its source, a Heineken distributor.

George Miller had his wife Margaret Sixel edit ‘Mad Max: Fury Road’. She had never cut an action film before and Miller said, if it were edited by the usual guys, it would look like "every other action movie we see". She went on to win an Oscar for ‘Best Film Editing’.

Okay, that’s enough information for one day. Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday! I love you all.

[bellnall]

Recurring Dreamer

---

You are packing. 

You have plastic laundry tubs and duffel bags and trash bags and everything that is yours is going into them.

You are at the Shithouse. You are separating their groceries from yours. You have half a loaf of bread. You have twelve loaves of bread. You steal their food. You leave them your frozen food. You pack frozen peas and freezer-burnt meat into your winter clothes. You hope the fridge works.

You are at a childhood friend’s house, hungry, going through her cabinets.

You are at your parents’ house. They are together again in the trailer. Mom isn’t there. You are trying to escape. You and your brother are stuck here after failing. You will lose your job. You are cornered in your brother’s room and try to fit out the window. You are running down the gravel driveway, down the street, into a graveyard. You cannot get out the window.

You have so many colored pencils. You dump them into your bag. You dump trinkets into your bag. You dump twelve loaves of bread into your bag. Your brother has not packed yet. The bathroom you share is filthy. The toilet does not flush. You look into the toilet. You look out the window. Frosted-glass phantoms talk about you. The toilet does not flush. The carpet is ruined. You cannot fit out the window. The woodland beyond is dead.

You sneak through your parents’ room to the only working bathroom. Your father is in bed. He is a tombstone beneath the comforter. He never speaks. He is sleeping. You cannot get the bathroom doors to shut properly.

The shower is filthy. The shower is full of dishes. Water is in your ears and you are sick. The floor is covered in years of clothing. You find your baby clothes. You find your favorite jacket. The tub is large and full of plant life. The toilet does not flush. You look into the toilet. There is ammonia and bleach. You look out the window. You once cut the screen. The screen is intact. You cannot fit out the window.

Toothbrushes, deodorant, toilet paper, towels. You are a child and you do not have a toothbrush. You are an adult and your teeth fall out constantly. You are used to gravel in your mouth. There is gravel in your knees. You need to pack. You know this is your last day of school and you need to pack. You don’t have enough bags to carry home all your clothes. All your books. You will never get them back. You will get them back months later, through charity alone. You will never be given your paintings back. You are in elementary school and you don’t know why your tongue is white when other girls’ tongues are pink. You are in high school and cannot afford food. The windows don’t open. You still think you could fit.

You have one bag and it’s full of frozen peas and bread and colored pencils and your clothes. You don’t try in your classes. You know you will be kicked out. You speak to the principal daily. You have never spoken to the principal. You ask how to recover your credits in time to graduate. You are in fifth grade and Geometry hurts your head. It is your fault. You are in third grade and have all A’s and your parents are so proud. Dad is not there to hear your solo. Dad is pissing in a beer bottle in the car in the parking lot and mom is with him. Mom is always there for you. Mom is always gone. You have to pack for art school. You do not know how to use oil paints.

The lunch line is infinite. You are feet away from the next-to-last in line. Younger children pass you. They look you in the eye. You don’t have enough time to eat. There are no seats left for you. You are eating on the way to the trash can. Someday, when all your artistic dreams have come true, this will be great practice for fast food. Your shoulder aches. You pack frozen peas and freezer-burnt meat into your winter clothes. 

Someone is taking your bag on the bus. You curl up against the seat and cradle it. You are scared to sleep. You got the seat with the heater and it is melting the soles of your shoes. You wake up and the bus is empty. You missed the bus. You are on the gravel driveway paved with beer cans and the bus screeches down the street.

Your father is in bed. He is a tombstone beneath the comforter. He never speaks. When you were young, he screamed. When he is drunk, he loves you. He wants to talk to you. He wants you to learn guitar and piano and sing like he never could. He is talking over a cutscene in Final Fantasy 8. You and your brother tell him you don’t want to be around him when he is drunk. He says he doesn’t want to be around you when he’s sober. You are packing up your brother’s consoles in your winter clothes. Your bed does not have sheets and the springs dig into your back. The wall panel is broken. Your father threw a toy at your head and broke it. He screamed. He doesn’t remember it. He says it didn’t happen.

You are in the bathroom. The toilet does not flush. The floor is unfinished wood and there is no running water. You use snow to make unsweet tea for warmth. Your dog lives in your coat and eats what you eat. You are holding her close in the bathroom while they scream. They’re drunk. You have nowhere else to go. Her elbow is broken. You don’t leave the bathroom until he leaves through the front door. Your mother is drunk on the couch. She says you are on his side. You meet him on the porch. He has just broken your mother’s arm. You beg him to go to a friend’s house for the night. Mom is too drunk to go anywhere. He leaves. Inside, she says you are on his side. They are still together a decade later. You open Facebook. Your mother is in a festive Santa outfit. You open Facebook. Your mother is documenting broken glass, black eyes, your mother is going to work with bruises around her throat, your mother is loud enough to be heard through the walls and will tell you every detail. Your mother gives you Crown Royal. You are in fourth grade, carrying colored pencils to school in a Crown Royal bag. You spend time with your father. You drink a 24-pack with your father. He lives in your old room on your old bed with no sheets and springs that scratch and he sleeps next to the broken wall every night. He doesn’t remember it. He says it didn’t happen.

You are packing the clothes beneath your bed. You have to pack only what you can carry. It is past midnight and your mother had a knife. She came through the door screaming. You and your brother and your dog are walking somewhere, anywhere, and it is dark and there is no sidewalk. Your dog is shivering. Your dog is dead and cold. Your dog forgives you. Scout was your old dog and she is dead beneath Dad’s land. There are cats in the insulation. You cannot get them out of the house and Dad is mad at you for crying. Mama Cat is dead beneath your brother’s room. She smells for weeks. You are sitting outside a church hoping for help. You are in a police station hoping for help. You are back with your mother and you are packing. She is quiet. Her elbow is broken and she says you are on his side. 

You can fit out the window. You carry your dog and clothes and frozen peas and freezer-burnt meat into the old cornstalks. You are providing hospice care and your’re not allowed to take him outside. He wishes he was dead. He is exploding with cancer. His room smells so terrible. He is dead and you do not know where his body is and there is no funeral, no family. You open your window and take your colored pencils and laptop and your art. You fall onto the trailer hitch, then the ground. Your garden is barren and his is overgrown. The newspaper pile is rife with rats. You carry your dog for hours in the dark, down the gravel driveway, down the street, to the graveyard. Your first memory is a steel slab and a window and your mother far away, men with PPE suits and face masks and gloves, violation, burning. Your dog shivers. 

Your dog is a black thing with wide white eyes. She is cradled in your hands. She is crumbling in your hands. Your heart beats outside your chest and a long steel tube connects it to your dog. You pinch the tube. The walls are covered in electrical outlets and the water heater has burst. Moldy carpet on your face. Holes in the floor where the cats come in. Your dog is dying behind a door because you were too much of a coward to stay by her side. She is beneath the ruined woodland behind your father’s trailer. You are beneath the ruined woodland behind your father’s trailer. The driveway is paved with crushed beer cans.

You are packing.

[rejectedbad]

Rejected Bad: All Night Party

The following is a rejected script from an early season of Breaking Bad.

INT. JESSE'S LIVING ROOM - MORNING

Jesse wakes up, disoriented and butt naked in a room filled with passed out bodies. He groggily looks around, trying to make sense of the situation. Not counting himself there are twenty three men, and twenty five women snoozing away. JESSE: (whispering to himself) What the hell happened last night?

Jesse, struggling to maintain balance, tiptoes through the maze of naked bodies, carefully stepping over limbs and empty beer cans. He finally makes it into the kitchen, where he finds Walter, wearing only a towel, munching on a banana.

Walter looks slightly annoyed and puts down the banana, eyeing Jesse with a mix of concern and impatience.

WALTER: (through a mouthful) About time you woke up, Jesse. We've got a deal to close today.

Jesse, feeling dehydrated and dizzy, stumbles towards the fridge, hoping to find some water.

JESSE: (grumbling) Yeah, yeah, I'm up now. I feel like I've been run over by a truck.

Walter, giving Jesse a stern look, motions towards the bathroom.

WALTER: Well, hurry your arse up and take a shower. You look like hell. We can't afford to screw this deal up.

Jesse sluggishly opens the fridge, hoping to find something to quench his thirst. He finds a half-empty bottle of lemon juice and chugs it down, sighing in relief.

JESSE: (with a gulp) Thanks, I needed that. Last night was insane!

Walter smirks, crossing his arms impatiently.

WALTER: (happily) Oh, it sure was. Now, focus, Jesse. We're cooking up a batch that will change everything for us. We can't let distractions derail our plans.

Jesse finally snaps out of his daze, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

JESSE: (no longer drowsy) Yeah, you're right. Let's get this show on the road, Mr. White.

Walter nods approvingly, grabbing his coat from a nearby chair.

WALTER: That's the spirit, Jesse. Today's the day we make our mark in the business. But first, a quick shower. You still smell like a dingy bar.

Jesse stares at Walter, realising he is still completely naked, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and determination.

JESSE: Yeah, I'll join you in the shower, just let me find my clothes first.

They exchange a knowing look, both understanding the absurdity and urgency of their totally NSFW situation. Together, they head towards the bathroom, ready to face the challenges ahead.

FADE OUT.

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Heart’s Choice - Chapter 31 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

I take the bus into town and walk the last four blocks to El Perro Gordo Bar and Grill.

The grill part stops serving food at nine but the bar stays open til midnight.

Unlike a lot of places in Spring Lakes, it caters to locals rather than to tourist tastes.

The fare is simple and affordable and there are no shot glasses, fridge magnets, keychains, t-shirts, tumblers or postcards to be had.

The atmosphere is laid back, the lighting warm and relaxed,and the clientele diverse.

It was a multipurpose establishment. a tired man could pop in for a drink at the end of the day and not be bothered, a horny one could get lucky and pick up a date.

That's what drew me here in the first place,and how I met Alejo at the bar.

He'd taken an obvious liking to me right away and because I'd been feeling especially lonely and dejected that night, I'd encouraged him.

I hadn't meant for it to be more than casual flirtation but pretty soon he was pouring me drinks on the house and my inhibitions were down the drain.

We ended up in the bathroom.

I sucked him off.

After that, things got fuzzy.

He'd brought me back to his place and I had a vague memory of painful, unsatisfying sex.

I woke up with a hangover.

Then I was basically thrown out with the trash, in which I was relieved to see a used condom.

I couldn't remember if I'd insisted on it or if Alejo just wasn't stupid enough to go bareback with a stranger but it had alleviated one fear, at least.

I hadn't expected to hear from Alejo again.

That kind of guy sees guys like me as a nock on his bedpost and nothing more, so I'd been surprised when he texted.

I didn't remember giving him my number.

Maybe it had been better for him than for me, maybe I'd been so out of it, I'd seemed into it, maybe he was telling the truth and it was me that had come onto him.

Then again, maybe I'd been too drunk to give proper consent.

If any of these same thoughts have troubled Alejo, he gives no sign of it as he waves to me from behind the bar, a grin stretching his face.

I slide onto a stool at the end and he winks at me as he serves a couple of college girls, flirting shamelessly with both.

They giggle and blush, clearly enjoying the attention.

Alejo is a popular guy behind the bar and I wonder which part is the lie, is it an act or did he play both teams after all?

He saunters over, towel flung over his shoulder and leans across the bar to tuck a strand of loose hair behind my ear.

"Hello, gorgeous. Knew you'd be back for more."

'Ugh. Cringe.'

I plaster on a smile and nod down the bar at the college girls, who are watching us curiously.

"Looks like you got your hands full already."

He laughs and winks.

"Nah. I'm just in it for the tips. What can I get you?"

I'd rather not drink at all but I don't want to rouse his suspicions, either.

"How 'bout something light."

"You got it."

He pours me a lager from a tap and sets the pint glass in front of me.

"So, where you been, cabrón? What happened to the cop? He get tired of you that fast?"

I lift my glass,but only let a little past my lips.

"Something like that. I heard you got picked up for questioning."

He barks a laugh.

"Fuck, you know how it is. They round up the usual suspects. Guys like me are always top of that list."

Shrugging, I say...

"Well, you did know Kyle."

His expression turns ugly.

"Fucking Kyle. You know his girlfriend tried to set the cops on me? Stupid whore."

He tilts his head to the side and cracks his neck, showing off the tattoos that stretch from collar bone to jaw.

None of them mean anything to me and they appear to have been chosen at random.

I take another sip of beer, trying to think of a way to bring up his alibi for the night of Sparks' death without being obvious.

"Did you know Kyle needed money?" I ask.

He snorts.

"Who doesn't?"

"I dunno. You seem to be doing alright."

My eyes go to the shiny gold watch on his wrist and I recall the flashy car he drove to Kyle's funeral.

"I made some good investments lately, is all," he says distractedly.

"Hang on."

The college girls are waving for his attention and a group of men have settled at the other end of the bar.

One of them looks really familiar but I can't tell where I've seen him before.

Another bar, maybe, given that Alejo switches back into flirt mode and serves up their drinks with admirable efficiency.

My cell-phone buzzes just as he turns back to me and I just have time to glimpse a text from John.

John: Hey. Where are you?

My heart skips a beat and warmth flares in my chest.

Not wanting to draw Alejo's attention to it in case he gets nosy, I pocket the device without making a reply.

"Now where were we?" he asks, reaching across the bar to rub his thumb across the back of my knuckles.

"You got pretty hands for such a hard-working guy, you know? Pretty mouth, too."

He brushes a fleck of beer foam from my upper lip.

Behind him, the college girls lean their heads together and giggle, apparently delighted to catch a glimpse of homo action in the wild.

"We were talking about Kyle's ex," I say, downing a large gulp of beer just to get him to stop touching me.

"Oh, yeah. That bitch. Guess Kyle told her some shit about me setting him up to take a fall."

He snorts.

"All I did was ask him to keep me out of it. He got caught, I didn't, he was fifteen, I was nineteen. He got a spate in juvie, I'd have been charged as an adult, ten years, minimum."

"You didn't promise him his share when he got out?"

Alejo laughs.

"Share? Share of what? We got caught. Well, Kyle got caught. I got away empty handed."

"So, he didn't come to you asking for help?"

"Sure he did. An' I helped him out, too. Or I offered to. Little punk turned me down. Hey, why you so interested anyway?"

I give my attention to my beer again.

To my surprise, the glass is almost empty.

Shrugging, I sprinkle some truth in the mix of lies, hoping it will lend me some much-needed believability.

"It's just, uh..." I laugh awkwardly and swirl the last bit of beer at the bottom of my glass. "I lent Kyle some money, myself. Good timing, huh? And now, well... I'm in the shit and I need a way out."

Smirking, Alejo leans across the bar, bringing his face uncomfortably close to mine.

"I got a better idea. Lemme finish up here and I'll show you what I have in mind. You in?"

"Yeah, I'm in."

"Good boy."

I barely manage not to gag as he licks my mouth and kisses me.

"I'll get you another drink. On the house."

[thecreditsroll]

Not 30 but I still wanted to do this

I live like I'm 30 might as well be 30

Spiritually 30

1 office chair

2 all

3 normal it's cheaper

4 dishes ( literally my excuse to get wet and play touch stuff very fun)

5 pest removal don't like dead things or messes also feel a little bad killing them and that's usually what I have to do to get them out

6 my heart when they died

7 cheap sponges

8 paper towels for scrubbing works on most surfaces

9 storytelling/narrativation

10 mostly YouTube I don't watch very much tv

11 I have a habit of buying little overpriced treats instead of saving the cash for something better

12 I refuse to use cups

13 the lawnmower the air conditioner literally everything

14 at least once a day if I still have the energy

15 I move around like a headless chicken because stores suck

16 rain won't stop me

17 been watching studio Ghibli films because I've never seen them before Really liked howls moving castle it reminded me of my grandma

18 they're fine but they can be frustrating sometimes

19 🦆

20 ice meat ice meat meat in ice

21 I was a baby

22 family dollar because they tend to be low energy and chill

23 plastic or whatevers handy

24 no

25 reading a book in my rocking chair on the porch

26 tea, beer sucks

27 movie night is every night

28 babies are ugly in photos but adorable in person

29 no time for holiday cards

30 5

31 I never want to own a car

32 MONSTER

33 transformers, I made a promise as a kid that I'll get every single fucking character and WILL

34 pleasant bike ride

35 alcohol don't care for it

36 yep barely

37 literally

38 air conditioner

39 a red bull to get me through the day 😔

40 always a list I hate going in without a plan

41 some old paperwork from the 1700s or some shit great grandma kept it sealed in this briefcase its just some old shipping notes from dockworkers nothing special

42 a dryer ☹️

43 The Prophet Margin

44 not my thing

45 art

46 trying not to put stuff on there anymore it's too chaotic

47 lamps all the overhead lights broke years ago

48 I'd just rebuild the same house with proper foundation sick of the cracks in the walls

49 used to

50 I need a diverse range of pillows

51 zero way too hot

52 yes tremendously so

53 DMV SS office is nice actually

54 id like to get festive once life gets better

55 applesauce cake the proper way my grandma used to make it

56 teriyaki noodles

57 Drinks

58 those big hiking bags

59 yeah I look fairly decent even now

60 they're fine

61 not anymore

62 I don't like having too many things

The more things you have the more responsibility

63 amazing wish I could afford it

64 maybe two years

65 my medical health haven't been to the doc in months

66 we don't make enough to qualify for taxes me

67 no i don't wanna share the bed space

68 unscented but I do try to spray them to make em smell better

69 absolutely nothing

Ask meme for people in their 30s

What was the first piece of furniture you bought?

What proportion of your meals do you cook?

Foaming hand soap or normal hand soap?

Favorite chore?

Least favorite chore?

Most precious thing one of your pets has destroyed?

Any groceries you've been getting into lately?

What cleaning product do you swear by?

What's your emotional support craft?

Youtube, cable TV, or streaming?

What's something you saved up for and then regretted buying?

How many cups can you see from where you're sitting?

Which filter are you most likely to go "eh, it's probably fine" when you find out you need to change it?

How often do you take baths?

Do you go down each aisle when you grocery shop, or only the ones you know you need stuff from?

Where do you go when you need to get out of the house but it's raining?

What's a movie you saw recently that you liked?

Pro or anti tchotchkes?

What's your go-to tape?

What's in your freezer right now?

Last concert you attended?

Favorite grocery store?

Paper bags, plastic bags, or reusable bags?

Do you get your government mandated 8 hours every night?

Favorite old person activity?

Would you rather sit on the porch drinking sweet tea or sit by the lake drinking beers?

Do you prefer Boardgame Night, Build-Your-Own-Pizza Night, or Movie Night with your friends?

Be honest, do you like all of the pictures of their babies that your friends send you?

Go-to holiday card format?

How many pairs of scissors do you own?

Do you still own your first car?

How do you take your morning coffee/tea?

What's something you collect?

What's your commute like?

Aisle at the grocery store you never bother walking down?

Do you keep a daily journal or agenda?

Do you still listen to the same music you listened to in high school?

What's the last filter you changed?

What little treat do you always get when you run errands?

Grocery list or no grocery list?

What's the oldest thing you own?

What's an unjustifiably expensive appliance that you really want?

Favorite book you've read recently?

Honest feelings on Settlers of Catan?

What's something you wish you had more time for?

What kind of stuff do you keep on the door of your refrigerator?

Lamps or overhead lighting?

If you could build your home from scratch, what outrageous feature would you want to build into it?

Do you bring a bag with you everywhere you go?

Pro or anti throw pillows?

How many blankets do you keep in your living room?

Did your relationship with your parents get better when you stopped living with them?

What's worse, the DMV or the Social Security Office?

Do you decorate your house for holidays? Which ones?

Favorite high-effort meal that you make?

Favorite low-effort meal that you make?

Do you tend to bring an appetizer, entree, dessert, or drinks to a potluck?

What kind of bag do you use for your bag full of bags?

If you died and your ghost was stuck in the outfit you're wearing right now for the rest of time, would you be happy with it?

Do you have an opinion on your local weather reporter?

Do you have a favorite brunch spot?

Where are you on the minimalism-maximalism kinsey scale?

Opinion on Bath and Body Works?

Last time you visited a farmer's market?

Anything you're procrastinating on right now?

Do you get your taxes in as soon as possible, at the last minute, or late?

Do you keep any stuffed animals on your bed?

Are your garbage bags scented or unscented?

What are you looking forward to next week?