#Got a grandpa vest

[a-timely-problem]

love that the second hand shops here are all lead by queer people. The younger ones are nice but I talked to an elder butch today and I think that I am her biggest fan

[lavenite]

moved countries and the first thing i did was go to the bookstore and pick up a few things hehe

[fuctacles]

If you saw the snippets where i fucked up the timeline no u didnt.

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"What's his name?" Steve asks, playing with the bunny's paw. The only time he let go of him since last night was to use the bathroom.

"Frankenbunny," Eddie answers, and smiles when Steve snorts after hearing it. "My grandma made him from fabric scraps grandpa would bring from work. I've made the vest, though." He stretches and blinks his eyes open properly, in time to see Steve's impressed expression.

"Really?"

"Well, Wayne helped," he added. "It's actually made from the same jacket I turned into my vest." 

"Oh, that's so cool!" Steve turns the bunny around to take a better look at the details. The tiny vest even has frayed edges and Dio stitched on the back. "You guys match."

Eddie snorts. 

"Yeah, we're both full of stitches," he points out dryly. 

Steve hums, pressing the toy closer to his face. It's something he's done before sleep, too, but last night Eddie wrote it off as a drunken mirage.

"And both pretty handsome fellas," he says, face half-hidden behind the bunny. He opens one eye, looking from under his eyelashes shyly, trying to gauge Eddie's reaction. 

Which, Eddie would love to know and understand as well.

"Oh, I don't know," he shrugs, reaching out to poke at Frankenbunny's face. "He doesn't have the signature Munson dimples." When in doubt, joke, as the Denial Decalogue says. 

Steve hums. 

"Yeah, I guess he can't hold a candle to the real thing. Not as talkative, for one."

Eddie can't help but stare, still leaning over his friend as he processes what he's heard. 

"You like my constant yapping?" he asks in surprise. Even his uncle seems tired of it, at times. Only his players appreciate his word flow, but that's with benefit to them.

"Of course." Steve focuses his attention back on the toy. "When you talk, I don't have to, I can just listen. And that's good because I tend to say some stupid shit," he says, almost absentmindedly. "This way, I'm not the dumb one in the room for once."

The casual innocence of his voice makes the meaning of his words miss Eddie completely until the air waves hit his other ear. 

"Oh, you little..."

As Steve's cheeky smirk grows, he pounces. 

Frankenbunny falls away, the hands holding him now focused on guarding all the ticklish spots. 

"Eddie!" Steve laughs, trying to grasp his wrists and squirm away. "We need to be quiet." 

"Should have though of it before being a brat!" Eddie grins at him, doubling his efforts and moving to pin him in place. 

Steve makes a distressed sound and writhes under him, bending hard enough it dislodges Eddie off of him but also, off the bed. He falls down with a surprised squeak.

"Sorry!" Steve barely suppresses his laugh when he looks down at him. "You alright?"

"No," Eddie groans, splayed on the floor. "I got back-stabbed."

"The dramatics are intact, you'll be fine," he rolls his eyes and steps over him. Eddie makes an even more wounded sound, but Steve ignores him, choosing to look for something comfy to wear instead. He throws a tshirt that doesn't smell of barbecue at Eddie's face, mistakenly assuming that's it—they are going to leave his bedroom and start on breakfast for the others. 

Wrong.

As soon as he has a pick of clothes in his hand, and is trying to get to the bathroom, Eddie grabs his ankle. He makes an undignified yelp and lands on the other boy. Which, serves him well. 

They roll on his carpet in an impromptu wrestling match, grinning at each other and muffling their laughs, trying to get the upper hand. 

Until Steve snaps his teeth at Eddie.

They freeze, two pairs of wide eyes staring at the other in silence. 

Steve moves first, backing away and almost falling over Eddie's knees. 

"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that," he explains quickly, scrambling to get off his friend. Eddie doesn't stop him, just stares openly at the mesmerizing specimen in front of him.

"That was so fucking hot."

"I don't know why I did—what?" Steve sits back on his haunches, eyes even wider as he stares at Eddie. At his wild hair splayed around his head, at his flushed face. The sliver of skin visible where his shirt has ridden up while they were roughhousing. 

"What?" he parrots, licking his lips nervously. 

"What did you just say?" Steve presses, voice turning desperate, pressing. But Eddie seals his mouth into a tight line. Lead by a hunch, he looks for his answer down the line of his body.

"Hey!" Eddie protests, sitting up and pulling his shirt down. But it was too late, the tent in his pants has been seen. "What the fuck, man?!" he hisses, his face red and eyes wide in panic. 

"Sorry, I—" Steve bites his lip. "But I snapped at you? That's weird, right?"

"Well, I'm apparently into weird, so..." Eddie trails off, looking away. Pointedly avoiding Steve's searching eyes. 

"You're into it?" he prods, but all Eddie can give him is a shrug. It's too fresh of a feeling to properly explain. Hell, he hasn't full came to terms with it himself yet. 

"Is it like a... a sex thing?" Steve tries again. 

"Maybe? Probably? I don't know!" Eddie snaps defensively, folding in on himself to hide his thankfully wilting erection. 

Steve's silence is terrifying, and when he looks up, he finds his eyes still studying him.

"Quit staring, man," he mumbles, squeezing his thighs together. "I'm sorry."

"Don't." Steve shakes his head. "It's fine, it happens. But just... don't move for a second."

"It happens," Eddie is muttering mockingly, when the rest of his friend's words register in his brain. "What?" But Steve is already too close, and he can't escape. Not that he wants to. "Steve," he says quietly, between a warning and a plea, when warm breath hits his neck.

Steve is sniffing him. At the crook of his neck, where undoubtedly his embarrassment has gathered in a pool of sweat.

He's terrified in a way that has nothing to do with fear. Worried what Steve might smell on him, when his surprisingly cold nose brushes his skin. 

Or maybe it's him running hot with whatever has just transpired. 

Eddie flinches at the touch and Steve moves away, his eyes big and warm with something he can't read. 

"You're fine," he says, and it sounds more like a relief of his own than reassurance for Eddie. "I'm into weird too."

Eddie looks at him quizzically, until he realizes it's not Steve's face holding his answers. He trails his gaze down, and immediately aims it back upward, over-correcting towards the heavens, where maybe he'll get some guidance.

"Shit," he croaks out from his closed up throat. Steve is way too close to him too, from his impromptu sniffing session. Eddie coughs to clear his airways. "Why did you smell me? Is it that bad?" he jokes, but has a feeling Steve won't take the out. Not with the curious way he's looking at him. 

"You smell like want," he answers with painful honesty. "Embarrassment."

Eddie blushes at that one. Well, yeah. Popping a boner in front of your, uh, something, will do that to a man.

"But also joy, affection," Steve continues. "And no fear."

"Why would I fear you? We were just playing around. It's not like you're gonna bite me," he focuses on the safest option. He's not unpacking his feelings for Steve first thing in the morning. Maybe after a coffee. 

It's Steve's turn to go beet red. 

"Sometimes I want to."

"What?" 

He shuffles back sheepishly. 

"Sometimes I see you and I really, really wanna bite you."

Eddie stares at him.

"In like, a werewolf way?" he asks dumbly, earning himself a flat look.

"I think we've established this is not how werewolves are made. I meant in, like, a playful way," he explains. "Like, I'm so excited and happy I can't hold it in anymore, way."

He wants to ask if it's a pack thing, but bites his tongue, not sure if anyone has even taught Steve pack rituals. The guy is going through pure instincts alone, and should be supported in it, so really, there's only one thing he can say.

"Well, why won't you?"

They stare at each other in stunned silence, until a clatter comes from downstairs.

"Steeeeve! The express is doing it again!"

Eddie deflates with a groan, falling back onto the carpet. What the fuck did he just say? He won't survive this crush. Steve will be no help, as he's now hovering over his body.

"We'll get back to this," he says quietly, in a promise or a warning, before clambering upright and out of the room, yelling at Robin.

"Do not press the fucking button!"

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot @dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86 @ollyxar @estrellami-1 @stevesworldxx @ajeff855 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @thelittleclare @wheneverfeasible @bumblebeecuttlefishes @blasvemous @phantomcat94 @n33dlew0rk @manliest-of-muppets @ravenfrog @dreamercec @tartarusknight  @eyehartart @ellietheasexylibrarian @im-sam-fucking-winchester

[leyavo]

You ever watch the movie Red? It's a good movie, general description retired CIA agents get hunted down to be shut up, anyways, they get marked R.E.D. Retired Extremely Dangerous. All i can think about is RED Simon

I did but ages ago 😂 but I would love to see the retired 141 guys trying to get back into the game. Think Simon and Kyle would easily slip back into their roles, whereas Price just wants to relax in his old age and Johnny’s just trying to survive and likes the adrenaline (remember the good old days L.T?) [Masterlist]

Sigh, all Simon wanted to do was fix the sodding breaks on his classic car and take it for its weekly run.

But, no. Price had called like bloody Charlie’s angels and warned him that he was next on whatever assassins list was out to get them. Thankfully he was able to store his car in a private garage, praying that his baby would be safe.

The garage just happened to be another stash for weapons. His fingers ache as he loads the ammo, not as fluid and in tune with his mind anymore. The skull mask discarded in the lockbox, a little snug and the tactical vest too tight that he lets it drape from his broad shoulders instead of strapping it up.

Johnny’s already on the run, looks like Simon isn’t as far up on the list as he thought. A little disheartening for him, if he’s being honest.

Kyle’s the smart one, going dark and getting his family to a safe house before Simon can even ring the doorbell of his house. He’s glad he doesn’t have to see Kyle’s missus, she’d just blame him for bringing an assassin on their doorstep. When it’s clearly Price’s fault.

The assassins more than half his age, Simon could be his dad. The only thing going against him is his lack of youth, but his mind is still alert and he manages to escape the assassin. The worse part, they called him grandpa whilst they were fighting.

Does need to find the guys though…might even have to reach out to Laswell in order to do so. Can definitely see Simon and Johnny on a phone call whilst their sneaking around trying to find info (like in the game when soaps goes it alone and he has to find ghost).

Kyles probably already with Laswell building a file on the assassin, it’s personal now his families involved. He’s already undercover at an agency said to be paying the assassin too. Survived because he has a safe room in his house and an escape route for safety. Always prepared.

Laswell’s offered up you to help Simon with the nitty gritty stuff as the new technology he had no idea how to use. You’re in his ear advising him on how to dodge all the cameras on the streets that weren’t there before. Angel on his shoulder he calls you.

Price is cursing that he’s been brought back into the game when he could be back on his farm and feeding the chickens. He has definitely got fully kitted out surveillance system covering his land and home (he says it’s to catch the foxes before they get to the chickens, but who’s he kidding).

Johnny’s glad he kept to his fitness routine and can still kick it with the youths. Keeps reminiscing about the good old days with the 141. Shaves a Mohawk after a decade of growing it out, thinks it brings him luck and swears to never grow it out again.

What would be funny though…is the assassin not knowing Ghost’s true identity and trying to lure him out by taking the TF141 guys. Of course Simon’s going to rescue his mates.

Assassin’s fucked if they do anything to Simon’s car though.

And the reason they want to shut the TF141 up is because John commented on a Facebook post complaining about the government 😂

[julesthequirky]

The Choice: Chapter Eight

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters/Pairings: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau and Ben (Soldier Boy)

Warnings: Language, typical Soldier Boy behaviour, angst, dashed dreams, mental breakdown.

W/C: 1,628

You were mad, upset, disappointed, frustrated by the lot of them. Ben sometimes acted like a child, which was ridiculous for a guy older than your grandpa. Dean and Beau had messed up, but for some damn reason, they wouldn’t apologise. They both got along like a house on fire, and you felt like you'd be constantly telling them to take Ben along with whatever the Hell they were up to, like a mother to her older sons. It was stupid and ridiculous. You weren’t a mother to any of them, and you’d be damned if you were gonna act like it.

The store was bustling, and people got in your way as you searched for Ben. He could be anywhere, which was sure. He could have even left. The thought filled with dread and panic, and hoping against all the odds, you rushed around the store like a headless chicken.

A blur of forest green caught your eye as you returned to the store’s clothing section. You'd recognise his Kevlar vested back anywhere and rushed over. He stood drinking whiskey and staring at baby clothes. Oh, fuck. Something about his demeanour put a bad feeling in your stomach.

“Ben?”

You reached out and touched his wrist. He didn’t pull away. He took another swig. You were gonna have to pay for that. Was he drunk? You didn’t know, but he probably was well on his way.

“I wanted kids. Not a lot, just a few. Two or three rugrats to call my own. I woulda raised ‘em right, too. Turns out that little shithead, Homelander, is mine, but he ain’t really, is he? He’s just a load of spunk I splurted into a test tube. An experiment. If he really was my kid, he wouldn’t be a needy little pussy crying for everyone’s attention. I mean, he wears a cape, for Christ’s sake. A fucking disappointment.”

“Ben.” You tugged his wrist gently to get him out of this kind of stupor he was in.

“I deserve some respect. I deserve to have a kid that’s not a fucking disgrace. I deserve fucking loyalty,”

He turned to you.

“And you let those doppelganger dipshits take the piss outta me. You didn’t do anything.”

The sudden turn of blame gave you whiplash.

“I—I didn’t. I didn’t know, Ben. You know that. We were together.”

He aggressively pointed a finger at your chest, disgust evident on his face.

“Fuck you, Y/N. You were more disappointed with them. I saw it in your face. It’s only cause you wanna get pounded into the next life by that floppy-haired sheriff and that hair-brained hunter. And fuck you for expecting me to react the way I did.”

His attack left you speechless, almost gasping for breath. Your mouth opened and closed multiple times, floundering to grasp words. Anything.

“You’re weak and pathetic, and I can see why your husband left you.”

You winced, physically afflicted by his cutting tongue. Emotion expanded in your chest as if the wind was knocked out. Tears stung the corners of your eyes, threatening to escape. You couldn’t cry. Not now. It meant he had won, but fuck you were struggling to keep it together. He had struck a raw nerve.

“Fuck you,” The words came shuddering out. “You don’t know anything about me.”

You sucked in a breath, feeling as though not enough went to your lungs. He stood there and took another swig from the bottle, a grimace on his lips as he stared you out.

“Trouble in paradise?”

That voice, that all too familiar smarmy voice. Your knees almost buckled, and the tears almost spilt over, but you remained strong. Oh, fuck. Things were about to go from bad to worse. You shuddered in another breath and tried to control the emotions rampaging inside.

Your ex, Mark, stood, shopping basket in hand. The worst thing was that he looked absolutely dashing as usual. Blonde hair combed and coiffed, immaculate blue eyes that always made your heart race. Or used to. Now, they made you avert your gaze. He reminded you of an assholish Chris Evans.

Seeing him brought up resentment, sadness, shame, hurt, and many other emotions. Your chest tightened. You didn’t need this now. Not when you were already feeling kicked down.

“You’re crazier than I thought. Getting your…uh boyfriend to dress up as that guy from that TV show.”

Damn it. Damn it. Damn, it! Ben wasn’t your new boyfriend, but Mark didn’t know that, and before you could tell him, he spoke again.

“Do you just date doppelgangers now?”

“No…”

God, he made you feel so inferior.

“Turns her on to no end when I do.”

Your neck swivelled so fast to Ben, who was now playing the perfect boyfriend. All charm, smirking, with no sign of the anger and hurt he had displayed a moment ago towards you.

He stepped closer, touched your shoulder, and squeezed gently.

Mark leant on one side, cocking his head.

“Hang on, your mother never said you were dating anyone. In fact, I know because she keeps wanting to set you up with Cole.”

Your jaw tensed. Mark still kept in contact with your mother. Figures. The two always got along, and when you told your mother of your divorce, she was more broken up about him not being her son-in-law than your broken relationship with Mark.

“I don’t talk to her that often.” You said in a clipped tone.

“You should. She and your dad—”

“Not my dad.” You interjected.

The sharp bite of your nails dug into the skin of your palms as you felt the anger bottle and build.

“They want you over for dinner. And why don’t you bring your new guy.”

“What a great idea!” Ben cut in, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer. He honestly had some nerve.

“I’ll let her know.”

Mark pulled out his phone, and you watched his thumbs fly across the on-screen keyboard, typing a message to your mother.

“She and your dad will be so excited.”

“Hey! Fuck nugget! Didn't you hear her say he wasn't her dad!"

Mark jumped as Ben barked at him. A slight smile curved your lips at seeing Mark lose that unflappableness, even just for a second.

“Darling, did you get the baby grows?”

A female voice trilled down the aisle. Mark turned, and so did you. The slight smile left your face. The anger dissipated. A heaviness slowly took over your whole body.

The woman walking towards Mark was heavily pregnant.

Your ears rang, your head tingled, and dizziness had you closing your eyes, trying to regain your balance and equilibrium. You didn’t hear Mark as he introduced his girlfriend. When you opened your eyes, she was smiling, radiant, a picture of perfect health. Of course, it hadn’t bypassed you that she was younger than you. No, everything about her and their relationship was a massive punch to the gut, and you couldn’t take your eyes off the way she protectively rested her hand on her belly.

Fuck. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Thank God Ben had his arm around you because you felt like at any moment your knees would buckle and you’d crumble to the floor. If that happened, you knew you’d lose any ounce of emotional strength and break down crying.

A pair of fingers snapping in your face got your attention. They were Ben’s. You pushed his hand away and began focusing on your breathing. In. Then out. Fuck. You couldn’t do this.

“Hey, is there any chance you still have those baby clothes? I mean…you won’t be needing them.”

Wooooow.

You stared at Mark, brows pinching together. He had returned back to his usual smug self. What right did he have to ask of that? They were a gift. A visual reminder of a rapidly dwindling dream. And it hit you. He implied that you were too old to even get pregnant. Which wasn’t true. At least, you hoped.

He had shattered your dreams of having a baby. Tore the carpet right up from under your feet. He hadn’t wanted a baby with you, but rather with someone else. Pain lashed across your chest, and you turned away from them. Beau and Dean stood from afar with the cart, watching. How much had they seen? Had they even heard?

You pushed yourself free of Ben’s grip. Nausea churned like a nasty swirling vortex in your stomach. Head ringing, heart racing, you forced yourself out. Time slowed, and every step felt like you were wading in sludge.

The automatic doors finally opened, and you rushed out, stumbling, shaking. You tripped and fell, bashing your knee on the bench. You howled like a baby before retching into the bin.

A hand touched your shoulder quickly. You swatted it away before it returned again, this time to remain. A low, soothing voice filtered past the ringing. Your hair was gently pulled back, fingers massaging your head as you coughed and spluttered up bile.

Shaking, you curled, hands balled to your ears. The pain in your chest wouldn’t go away, the tears wouldn’t stop, and you didn’t think you could stop them either. Big, heavy, ugly, full chest heaving sobs wracked your body.

Arms wrapped around you, pulling you into them, tight, shielding you from the nosy crowds. A hand curled around the back of your head, pushing you into a strong chest. You gripped the soft material of their jacket with all the strength you had. That same deep, soothing voice filtered into your ears.

Ben was right. You were weak. You were pathetic.

You weren’t good enough to make a baby with. You weren’t young enough. You just weren’t enough.

Tags: @yvonneeeee, @curlycarley, @angelbabyyy99, @sassy-pelica, @k-slla, @deans-spinster-witch, @ashdoctor, @eretsupremacy89, @fanfic-n-tabulous, @deans-number-one-fan, @afro-hispwriter, @justjensenandhisalteregos, @tiredstrangerr, @zemosdarling228.

[villainology]

i feel like a kid running around with their drawing to show everyone else in the room bc i've already told like 2 other blogs about this scenario i had while i was trying to sleep but can you IMAGINE being a family friend of the sawyers? maybe your grandparents knew theirs before times were tough and cannibalism became their means of survival, and your family's died off and left you the little farmhouse and patch of land a few miles outside of the sawyers' boundaries. drayton's clarified you're off-limits (through some honorary family-friend ideals, or as not to upset grandpa 'cause your folks were always kind to them) and you're none the wiser to their true savagery they get up to (you can hear a scream once or twice, when you drive your dad's old beat up truck near their land sometimes, but you always think they've got really rowdy and funny sounding goats). but you've inherited your family's farmhouse and poor little you just doesn't know anything about farming and fixing up the house! no matter how hard you try, nothing grows, so one uneventful day you drop off some seeds as a gift for drayton since, well, they're not getting any use with you, and you mention a problem that needs fixing. maybe it's a rusty shed door you can't get open, or a busted roof. either way, drayton's always liked to keep up apparances and you haven't had a chance to meet the new additions of the family, so drayton sends johnny back with you (after giving him thorough lecturing about how no, you are NOT a potential victim, you're just a little oblivious, and plus johnny's the most... convincingly normal one out of all of them, arguably) to fix something up for you as thanks for the seeds. so now there's a sweaty, attractive, pretty charming (and maybe a little subtly condescending) guy fixing up something because you hadn't the slightest clue how to fix it, so you might as well make him some lemonade or tea and thank him! and, well, johnny might think you're amusing. pretty sweet, pretty cute, pretty *airheaded*. drayton said you were off-limits for anything violent, of course, but that didn't mean he couldn't test any other limits, right?

aaaah~ no bc wait I think you’re onto something here!! you got me thinking so many filthy thots rn, so I made a lil drabble, hope that’s okay w you? 😭❤️ sjdbdjdndnfnf I hope it’s written okay, I wrote this half asleep in bed but I couldn’t stop thinking abt it!

warnings — slight dub-con, light smut, Johnny being Johnny!

“Here you go, Mr Johnny,” you smiled up the ladder toward him as you walked out with two glasses of lemonade in hand, “where’d ya want it?”

“Just set it down on the table there.” His voice was stern, a tad hint of annoyance laced into it, not that you noticed.

Johnny stood at the top of the ladder, nail in mouth as he hammered another into roof of your porch, closing off the gap which would hopefully stop the rattling noise anytime there was a gust of wind. He slipped the hammer and last few nails into his work belt before looking down at you stood below him, so innocently sipping through the curly straw in your lemonade glass.

The Texan heat wasn’t good for much, but the way it made a light coat of sweat glisten on your body as the sun began to set was enough to make him appreciate the summer weather. Your denim shorts just a little too high up and your white vest top just a little too low, but from where he was stood he got to have the perfect angle down your shirt, and you were none the wiser.

Johnny carefully came down the ladder before picking his glass up off the table, his eyes never once leaving your body. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, you really were oblivious, so innocent and air-headed that he wondered how you survived off by yourself all these years before coming back to the farmlands.

The way Drayton sent him out here with you alone, like sending a lamb off to the slaughter — an adorable, pretty little lamb making lemonade for a starving lion. Johnny wondered to himself what you’d think if you found out what they were really like, just how savage and dangerous they were, would you run scared from him, give him chase to hunt you down on acres of land?

“Sorry about you having to come out here, I’ve clearly got a lot to learn about all this type of stuff, huh?” You laughed as you gestured toward the house and the land surrounding it.

Johnny was snapped from his thoughts, a fake little smile crossing his face as he nodded, “don’t sweat it, darlin’, friends helping out friends, ain’t that right?”

He knew that Drayton said you weren’t to be a victim, that you weren’t some prey to be chased and hunted down, butchered just for the hell of it, but what about anything else? After all, this was Drayton’s way of saying thanks to you, but what did Johnny get out of this? Where was his thank you for fixing up your roof free of charge? If you weren’t going to be Johnny’s victim then he’d sure as hell find away for you to give him thanks.

“Say,” he placed his half empty glass down on the table beside him, “you moved back up here all alone, not got a boyfriend following you here?”

“Oh, heh, no. Haven’t had one of those in a long while, Mr Johnny.”

“Huh, well that’s just peachy, darlin’.”

He walked from the table and closer to you, his hand stroking up and down your arm as he worked his way behind you, his warm body pressing up against yours as he leaned down to your ear, “how about a thank you for all my hard work, hm?”

His hand snaked its way around your waist and played with the button of your shorts, his lips grazing across the delicate skin of your neck, gently kisses to distract you from what his hands were doing. Truth be told you didn’t want him to stop, and he could tell. The way you let him unbutton your pants without a fight, his fingers working their way between your legs and tracing a line back and forth against your clothed cunt.

“Mr Johnny, I don’t think—”

“That’s alright, baby, you don’t gotta think,” his free hand wrapped around your throat, tilting your head to the side so he could more easily bite and suck at your skin, “just gotta do whatever I tell you to do.”

After all, Drayton said you couldn’t be slaughtered like he did the others, but he didn’t say anything about Johnny not being able to fuck you til’ you couldn’t walk no more.

[patched-up-pants]

My main vest, and an absolute piece of shit to work on, especially the Siouxsie eyes. The base is an old waistcoat my grandpa used to wear way back, while all the handmade patches were painted on top of scrap fabric, mainly from pants and one jacket. Some newer ones got stenciled (like Nausea or Bauhaus), while the older ones were free-handed (DnD or the paw). There's even one I embroidered.

I didn't have a particular plan while making it, as such there are a bunch of unrelated topics; the usual band and political patches, as well as book, manga, and 'pop'-culture related ones. And while I am more proud of some patches (Pidżama Porno) over others (the circular one on the front), the whole project can definitely be called one hell of an achievement, or at least that's what me thinks.

[strangemaleswaps]

Strange Leather Bar Swap 2

I still couldn't believe that I was in a different body! I wish it was a hotter guy, but I'm sure someone would be into me! Thankfully being an old guy didn't stop my dick from staying hard, as I could feel it rubbing against my leather pants…even if I couldn't see it past my enormous belly.

I opened the door to find a couple of guys walking down the hallway, chatting, and laughing. I thought they were a little drunk. One of them rushed over to me with an ecstatic look on his face.

“Hey there daddy! Up for some fun?” He poked my belly. “You a sub or dom? I'm ready for some kinky action!”

“Oh I don't know actually.” My voice was so deep and gravelly, that for a sec I didn't realize I was the one talking. “I'm kinda new at th-”

“All good! All good! Plenty of guys yeah? Seeya round!” He then took off down the hallway and into a room with the other guys. I was still excited, but a little discouraged that I didn't have much experience with kinky sex. I guess I looked like someone who did though. 

I made my way down the hallways and found that all the closed doors had a lot of noise coming from inside so I guess that meant they didn't want any more guys. I noticed one door was open a bit so I took a deep breath and walked inside. In a cool looking room with white walls was a young guy; he was about my age or so! He was wearing a really cool leather vest, breeches, and arm guards.

“Well hey there old man,” he said real smooth. He must've noticed that I seemed uncomfortable because he walked up to me and ditched the sexy tone.

“You're definitely not that old are you? What's your REAL age?”

“21,” I said hesitantly. He smiled and started laughing.

“We got a fucking 21 year old looking like his own grandpa here!” I kinda laughed along, trying not to make it awkward.

“It's alright man! Neither of us are the right age physically. I'm 47!” He said with a face that looked more like 20. “But that's what Swap Night is all about! Having fun with your new bodies!”

“You know…” He put his hand on my belly and started rubbing it. “I bet you were a twink before right?”

“Y-yeah.”

“So having all this weight on you must be so different right?” He began unbuttoning my shirt very slowly. My dick was getting hard once again and his smile widened when he noticed.

“Hey, you like that huh?

“Mmm” I let out a bit of a deep moaning sound.

“Then I guess you wouldn't mind if…” He dramatically ripped my shirt open, unbuttoning everything at once. “...we see what's underneath!”

“He grabbed me by the tie and pulled me closer until I was face to face with him. He was so hot! I wondered who the real owner of his body was. Since he was closer to my age, maybe we could be friends.

He then pulled me in for a kiss, shoving his tongue into my mouth. It tickled as my mustache rubbed against his face. I wasn't much of a kisser but I tried copying him by using my tongue. As we made out, I could feel him stripping the rest of my shirt off, and undoing my tie. He threw both of them to the side. He stopped kissing and moved towards my chest. Suddenly I felt a weird sensation on one of my nipples, as if it was being pulled very hard, but yet didn't hurt. I looked down to see the guy biting on a nipple piercing…wait piercings! I had piercings!

“Woah,” I said out loud. He looked me in the eye and read my mind once again.

“Just noticed you have your nipples pierced didn't you? They're really sensitive aren't they? I have mine pierced…well not in this body anyway. I loved having mine sucked and bitten…” He looked down at his chest and pinched his nipples. “...but these just aren't sensitive enough.”

“Yeah that makes sense.”

“You on the other hand…” He started up again, biting the piercing, and again I felt the weird sensation. It was incredible! They were so sensitive that I swore I was about to cum right there. But I held it in as he rubbed my belly again. 

“That's a really nice ball belly you got there, old man.” Something about being called an old man was turning me on even more and just like before, he noticed.

“Yeah…you like being called that huh? A fat old man.”

As he licked all around my belly, his hands made their way underneath. Taking my belt off and unbuttoning my pants, he started licking from the top, downwards until he got to my dick. He squeezed it with his right hand and began sucking as he rubbed my belly some more with his left. 

I really didn't want to cum right then but I couldn't hold it in anymore! As he sucked, I came in his mouth, which seemed to take him by surprise. After a minute of catching my breath, he broke the silence.

“Well then daddy. I hope you had a good time.”

“Aw I wish this would last longer.”

“Well…we still have a few hours until midnight. Why don't you see what some other guys are doing? Maybe you'll find your own body.” The idea of seeing or even fucking my own body sounded kinda creepy, but also intriguing. I didn't know what to think!

“Yeah I guess. What about you? Don't you want to cum?”

“Hey I think just looking at my sexy self in the mirror is enough to make me cum. Unless you wanna jerk me off?”

“I'd love to,” I said with a sexy smirk, as the old man in the nearby mirror copied me.

[thenoellebird]

What are your headcanons about Shermie Pines?

OOOH SHERMIE HEADCANONS

okay so I go with non-canon older brother shermie cuz I just wanted Ford & Stan to have that older brother figure type deal. Most of these are just for my one fanfic, but for any other fanfic that I make with Shermie, they apply as well.

(also I did receive this ask earlier, I just was so tired I didn't respond to it but since I got it again I was reminded and was like "oh crap! Forgot to reply!" Rest assured, I planned on replying and absolutely forgot like the scatterbrained lil goofus that I am haha apologies for not responding the first time, anon)

Headcanons...

Shermie was definitely a hard worker in high school as the oldest. But he didn't work for his dad, he worked for himself and a better life after leaving home type deal. Like he saved up to move out right at 18 (which is exactly what he did)

He hated leaving Stan and Ford behind but they were ten years younger than him and he talked with Caryn about protecting them. Filbrick was never allowed to hit Shermie on Caryn's watch after one incident when he was five and Caryn was pretty sure Filbrick had put a stop to that behavior. Didn't change what happened after Shermie left and Stanley was frequently beaten by their dad, but out of sight of Caryn. ANd Stan, thinking he deserved it, always told his mom it was Crampelter. She never investigated beyond telling Stan to not pick fights because she was scared of what she might find.

Shermie kept in contact with Stan and Ford when he left and started living in his own apartment and sometimes he'd have the kiddos over to help them escape from his dad. But as they got older, Ford would often refuse to come over because abuse/brainwashing type deal but Stan would often sneak out of the house to see Shermie. Stan was definitely closer with Shermie during those years. But then after Shermie made enough and got married, he and his wife moved to California since it was their dream.

Note about Shermie getting married, he married his highschool sweetheart (that's just a random happy headcanon of mine that I like). I haven't named her in my particular AU yet but I feel like her name starts with an M.

Shermie never went to college, he just worked hard and eventually worked his way up and got enough experience to start his golf course up in California.

When Stan was kicked out, Shermie didn't find out till a year after the fact. He was in an area that didn't get Stanley's infomercials or advertisements so he feared that Stan had gotten killed long before Stan was "dead".

Shermie is a big fan of grandpa shirts and sweater vests. He is very much a grandpa, and his wife is the classic cookie-making grandma who absolutely spoils her grandkids rotten (she loves it). Idk why but the vibe fits them. Shermie's wife is a retired ER nurse turned nurse practitioner (she will probably show up in my fic in a bit to help out with Stanley).

Shermie is usually a gruff guy but he's very soft for his wife, son, daughter-in-law and grankids. He was always kind to Stanley too whenever they called, though he thought it was Ford.

Shermie couldn't attend "Stanley's" funeral because his wife was about to give birth to their child and he couldn't leave her by herself or take her to the funeral with him. He really regretted not going but he couldn't just LEAVE his poor wife alone.

Shermie owns a golf course and a corresponding mini-golf course (which is how Mabel got so good--lots of opportunities) and he's made a nice comfy life for himself and his family--comfy enough to buy his grandkids really cool presents. He's bought Dipper most of his Lego collection haha. Because Dipper totally has a lego collection you can't convince me otherwise. He also likes to help Dipper build said lego collection.

Never told his grandkids about Stanford and Stanley, remembering the stan twins' fight and separation, hoping that they'd never have to go through something similar.

[callsign-venus]

For the Love of Love | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw | Part III

Part I | Series Masterlist

Summary: It's time for Bradley to meet the family. Good luck :)

Word count: 5k

a/n: I started writing this in winter, and now summer is literally coming up on my ass lol. Shoutout to the southern hemisphere, this fic is in season there. But seriously, regardless of where you are in the world, hope y'all enjoy x

As your family barreled down the cabin stairs, you turned to Bradley. You weren’t sure you got the reassurance you needed when he looked up from fixing his hair in the rearview mirror, winked, and said, “Good luck, you’ll need it.”

You rolled your eyes and swung open the car door. As soon as your feet hit the ground, Tommy nearly tackled you into the snow.

Your brother was somehow still growing. Much to your annoyance, he was even taller than when you saw him last. Still, he smelled like your parents’ house, and being in his arms was like sneaking a slice of your childhood from behind the universe’s back.

When Tommy finally let you go, you didn’t have a moment to breathe before Georgia crushed you in another hug. You had forgotten how nice it was to be in the arms of the woman you would one day call your sister-in-law. Her reddish, curly hair tickled your cheek and her words warmed your core as she whispered in her gentle manner, “I’m so glad to see you again.”

Nora and Sabrine were waiting for their turn to greet you, Nora somewhat less patiently. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, sending her thick braid slapping against her puffy green vest. Sabrine was a stiller picture. She wore a soft smile, but her wide brown eyes narrowed, and she raised protective hand over her baby bump when she caught sight of the stranger unfurling himself from the passenger seat. 

“Oh, guys,” you said. Your nerves were singing as you put the plan into place, no matter how much you practiced (which you were realizing wasn’t nearly enough). “I’d like everyone to meet my boyfriend, Bradley.”

Tommy cocked his head. “Boyfriend? I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

Nora took a step back, trying to fit you and Bradley together in a single picture. Sabrine’a gaze stayed hard.

From the porch, your Aunt Marnie called out, “Who’s the handsome gentleman in the driveway?”

You worried your fingers, shifted from foot to foot. It was impossible to force words through your teeth as your family looked at you for an answer.

Bradley saved the already sinking ship by rounding the car and slipping a hand around your waist, which made it as hard for you to stand as it was for you to talk. He stuck out his hand toward Tommy. “Nice to see you again.”

Tommy took his hand but looked at you with one eyebrow raised.

Though you were struggling to balance on two wobbly legs, Bradley’s hand on your waist was strangely comforting. He was the other half of this insane plan, after all. With his support, your words finally tumbled out of you.

“Surprise! I didn’t want to mention it until I knew I was sure but…” You rested a shaky hand on Bradley’s chest. “I’m sure.”

Your words thickened the mountain air as Tommy, Nora, and Sabrine tried to make sense of your surprise. Thank god for Georgia, who nearly tackled Bradley in a giant hug. Her decision swayed the others, who closed around him and welcomed him into the family by giving him too little personal space and too many questions to answer.

At least he handled it well enough that everyone’s attention was drawn to him, and you could slip away to unload the trunk.

Graciously, Bradley carried your luggage up to the cabin. Tommy, Georgia, and Nora swarmed him like summer bugs to a campfire. Even Sabrine softened and asked about your flight. You’d never brought anyone home, and you could safely assume they hadn’t expected you to bring a giant naval aviator to Grandma and Grandpa’s 60th wedding anniversary. You smiled, though the mountain air left you a bit breathless.

Auntie Marnie held the door open as you all piled into the cabin. The fire was flickering in the living room, chasing off the cold that trailed you inside. Hugs from everyone chased off the numbness of your skin. There was Grandma Sybil, who eyed Bradley with such suspicion that you were sure your ruse had been found out already. Grandpa Thomas, who tussled your hair and smelled just a little bit like cigarettes. Sabrine’s husband Matt gave you a ginger hug that couldn’t belie how new he was to the family. Owen and Addison gave you one big hug (they almost always move as a single unit).

Your parents saw Bradely (he was hard to miss), but they stayed focused on you.

“My baby.” Your mom’s voice coated you like a warm honey, though her words struck a chill through you. “How are you? Why didn’t you tell us about Bradley?”

“Umm…” Maybe it was more than just the thin mountain air leaving you breathless. “I just wanted to be sure before I told you all.”

It sounded more convincing outside, with the ancient pines to bear witness. In the living room crammed with people, your lie was somehow much less believable. Your mother’s eyes were cold as they searched yours, but they broke away when your dad enveloped you in a hug.

“Missed you, kiddo.” He kissed the crown of your head.

“Missed you too, Dad.”

But even if your surprise was on shaky ground thanks to Grandma Sybil and your mom, yours was not the only surprise. You were shocked — and grateful — to find that while Nora and Madison had summited K2, they had most recently embarked on a new kind of adventure.

His name was Henry, he had curly brown hair, and he was 3 years old. Grandpa Thomas had pulled out you and your cousins’ old toys, and Henry was playing contently on the bearskin rug with a Tickle Me Elmo and a smattering of Polly Pockets, some of the dresses bearing permanent teeth imprints. 

In the current of people, you found yourself reaching for Bradley like he was a rock you could cling to in the storm. Like he was really your boyfriend. For his part, he grabbed your hand and didn’t let go, not when your dad clapped him on the shoulder and said “I trust you’re taking good care of her” and not when your mom locked eyes with him and only smiled.

You jumped in, despite the nervousness bubbling in your throat. “He’s taking good care of me, Mom and Dad. I’m very happy.”

“And I’m happy whenever she’s happy.” Bradley sealed the deal with a wink that left you studying the floor.

Auntie Elaine walked into the room like a force of nature, her cheeks permanently red, maybe from the freezing Alaskan winds. She clapped once, commanding everyone’s attention like you all were her sled dogs. “Come on, people, stop swarming the two. I’m sure they want to go upstairs and get settled.”

The knot of people around you loosened. You mouthed her a thank you, and she gave you a nod with the barest hint of a smile.

Bradley carried all your luggage up the staircase. Two flights up to your little attic room. It smelled like the vanilla cupcake body mist you wore every day as a teen — and it probably always would. The steeply slanted roof cut into the room, making it seem even smaller than it already was.

Bradley dropped the bags with several resounding thumps. Instead of his attention falling to the window which offered a glimpse of the lake, his eyes were on the full sized bed shoved into the corner of the room, the ceiling hanging low over it.

You rubbed the back of your neck. Your grandma had crocheted the pink, red, and blue afghan that dressed up the bed, somehow making it look smaller and more juvenile.

Fuck. It wasn’t like you could offer Bradley the couch if you were to be the perfect couple. “I forgot about this. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.” Bradley chuckled. “Well, do you think they bought it?”

“I think so?” The room was so small you could hear the rhythm of his breathing. “I’m so happy Nora and Madison surprised everyone with Henry, though. Hopefully that means the heat will be off us.”

“Everyone is very interested in our dating life. Well, Georgia and your Auntie Marnie, at least. I told them we’ve been dating for five months, sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You ran a hand over the solid oak dresser, your fingertips collecting powdered sugar dust. “They’ll probably want to know everything. It’s ok if there are some small discrepancies, as long as we look the part.”

His eyes finally ripped away from the bed. He took in the Raggedy Anne doll on your nightstand, the one Grandpa Thomas brought to the hospital when you were born. Your high school copy of Frankenstein laid open next to it, its worn pages exhausted by silly teenaged annotations. The bikini you wore last summer — bright red and studded with white polka dots — hung from the back of an old rocking chair. It clashed absurdly with the gleaming snow that frosted the pines outside. You fumbled to stuff it in the first dresser drawer you managed to fling open.

You were soaked into every part of this bedroom — from the shag rug to the yellow-wood walls. Bradley standing in it (his hair skimming the slanted ceiling) made you feel naked.

He tapped a plastic orange frame perched on your dresser. It was a picture taken from the lakeshore of you and Nat on a paddleboard almost a decade ago. Not five seconds after Tommy had snapped the photo, the two of you had plunged into the lake. But that was something you’d tell Bradley if you’d invited him into your room because you loved him, not because you were tricking your family into thinking you’d finally found someone. 

So instead you said, “Are you ready to face my family again?”

“Am I ever?”

He held out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, you took it. Your fingers were a bit sweaty, but he gave you a reassuring squeeze as you two descended the stairs, the clamor of your family growing louder with each step. Your mind was dizzy trying to comprehend that Bradley Bradshaw was meeting your family. You’d daydreamed about this more often than you would ever admit. You just wished it was real.

You had to give him credit; he played the role of your secret-almost-but-not-quite-long-term boyfriend very well. He talked easily with your dad about the NBA playoffs. He withstood the questions Tommy lobbed at him about flying planes. He played dominos with you and your aunts. He helped Sabrine in the kitchen until he snuck too much cookie dough and she shooed him out. He made your heart flutter when he got on the floor and played trains with Henry.

“Choo choo!” He said as he pushed a bright red engine with a mismatched purple caboose down the wooden tracks on the living room floor.

Henry giggled and ran a yellow engine up Bradley’s leg.

You hid your smile with a sip of cocoa, but Bradley caught sight of you across the room and beckoned you to join. You sat next to him, a little farther than an actual girlfriend would. He closed the gap by circling an arm around you. You almost didn’t flush at his touch after spending nearly the whole day at his side. Almost.

Nora and Madison were watching the three of you from the love seat, Madison’s legs flopped over Nora’s, comfy silence stretched over them like a quilt. Your heart quickened at the sight of actual love. Bradley’s arm suddenly felt foreign against you.

Before your thoughts spiraled too far, Henry offered you a passenger car to play with. You set it on the tracks, but he shook his head.

“Like this.” He ran his train down Bradley’s leg.

“Hey,” Bradley said through a giant grin. “My legs aren’t train tracks!”

But your little cousin had given you clear instructions, and you followed them. A warmth rippled through you as the wheels of the toy train car gilded smoothly over Bradley’s sweatpants. He'd been comfortable touching you since the moment you’d met on a particularly rowdy night at the Hard Deck (because any friend of Nat’s was a friend of his). During that first bear hug, some part of him must have broken off and lodged in your heart, and you’d spent so long trying to pry it out or ignore it that it felt nice to actually indulge it. It wasn’t so much a splinter anymore as it was a shard of heat warming you from the inside. For the weekend, at least.

Someone stepped between you and the fire, blocking the heat. You looked up. Grandma Sybil was studying the two of you from behind her wire rimmed glasses.

“Dear,” her voice was clear like someone fifty years younger than herself, “why don’t you and Bradley come sit on the couch with me? I’d love the company.”

You tensed. You couldn’t remember if you warned Bradley enough about Grandma Sybil. You’d seen her question so many significant others, but that had never concerned you. Now it was Bradley’s turn, and he wasn’t even your significant other. But your grandma had already turned and was walking to her recliner, expecting you both to follow, so you let Bradley help you to your feet.

The two of you dropped awkwardly onto the couch. There was enough room between the two of you that you might have looked like strangers if not for the hand holding. With the fire and the oven on, it was really hot. And Grandma Sybil looked mightily unimpressed with the couple before her.

You scooted closer to Bradley, and he nearly pulled you into his lap. He gave you a look like Am I doing this right? The knots in your stomach knotted into more knots, but your grandmother held your full attention. She was the matriarch, and her judgment in your favor was crucial to keep up the ruse.

“Tell me,” she sat down on her recliner with a bit of effort, “Bradford –”

“Bradley,” you interjected on his behalf.

She waved you off. “What do you like about our granddaughter so much?”

You felt his breath catch a little. You clutched his hand in a death grip.

“She’s kind.” Bradley’s voice was steady. “She loves her family. I know she’ll always be there for me if I’m there for her. And when I first saw her, she took my breath away.”

Your heart swelled in spite of yourself, but Grandma Sybil seemed unconvinced, so you pipped in. “He’s a sweetheart, Grandma. He flies planes for the navy.”

She readjusted her glasses but didn’t say anything.

“He’s Nat’s friend.” You tried again.

“Oh, Natasha.” Grandma Sybil finally smiled. “What a great girl. How is she?”

“She’s doing good.” It was easier to speak now. “She wishes she could be here, but she had work. She’s very in demand.”

Grandma Sybil looked pointedly at Bradley. “And how do you know Natasha?”

“Grandma, I just told you; he flies planes for the navy.”

“It’s ok.” Bradley rested his free hand on your arm. He was getting good at this. “I work with Nat a lot. She’s the perfect person to have with me in the sky.”

Grandma Sybil adjusted her glasses as if she was seeing Bradley in a new light. “Well, if Nat thinks you’re a good fit for our granddaughter –”

“She does,” you said.

“– then welcome to the family.”

She struggled out of the recliner and took Bradley’s face between her hands. She gave him a kiss on each cheek, then did the same for you.

“I knew you’d like him,” you told her. “He’s a catch, huh?”

She ignored you and stared into his eyes. “You be good to her, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bradley channeled his inner military man and straightened like a flagpole.

Even if he didn’t realize, he was being good to you. Only an insane person, or a really good friend, would try to help someone trick their family this way. You felt bad he had go through all the pains of meeting his girlfriend’s family without the girlfriend, but he smiled down at you with his big brown eyes, still holding your hand, and you felt as if – just maybe – there was some piece of you lodged in his heart.

Before you could properly chase that thought out of your head, Henry started crying. Nora and Madison rushed from their spot on the love seat to soothe him. Their attempts weren’t really working, and his cries mixed with the clinking of dominoes and the clattering of pots and pains threatened to raise a headache in you.

Your eyes fell to the hot tub on the porch.

“Hey Bradley?” You asked under the current of noise.

“Yes?” Did you imagine the twitch of his upper lip? Had your grandmother actually rattled him?

It was ok, though, because you had the perfect relaxing antidote to his troubles.

“Join me in the hot tub?”

You hadn’t known if Bradley would bring his swimsuit that he practically lived in during San Diego summers, but he confessed he had because he heard Lake more than Tahoe. It wasn’t like it was freezing in San Diego, he argued.

You suppressed your laugh up in your stuffy attic room as he stood with the Hawiian print swim trunks in hand.

“What?” He said. “I’m using them, aren’t I?”

“I guess. In a 102 degree hot tub, though, not the lake.” You were pulling your bikini out of the drawer you’d crammed it in earlier.

You both stood, pink shag rug between you, holding onto your swimsuits and staring at each other.

“What are we waiting for?” Bradley grinned. “We’ve been dating for five months.”

You stared at him.

“I’m teasing.” That’s what he said, but in the same breath he pulled his hoodie and shirt off with one swift motion.

Jesus Christ, you forgot how good he looked without a shirt. Your lungs absolutely refused to fill with enough oxygen.

“Hey.” His expression softened toward you, the playfulness traded for something more reassuring. “I won’t look if you promise not to look.”

“Promise.” The word hung limp in the air as you both turned your backs and shimmied into your swimsuits. You stared out your tiny window as you pulled on the bikini bottoms, watching the snow glare in the sunlight and trying to keep your mind from the fact that you and Bradley were basically naked in your old bedroom.

“You ready?” He asked.

You were fumbling with the tie of your bikini top. “Just a sec.”

The seconds passed like drops of snow melt. You counted every one. As more and more slipped by, the clumsier your fingers became.

“Bradley, are you looking?”

“No, ma’am.”

You sucked in a deep breath, “I can’t get this top tied. Can you help?”

“’Course.” He passed over your rug and took the strings from your hands. His fingers were warm as they grazed your back. “Is this too tight?”

“No, that’s perfect.” You were lightheaded with his body so close to yours, his breath tickling the bare skin of your shoulders, his beachy scent cutting through the lingering smell of your teenage body spray. With a shock, you remembered your manners. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem.” He patted your shoulder. “Now, I think there’s a hot tub somewhere around here, and it’s got our name on it.”

The freezing air stabbed your bare skin as you and Bradley ran out the front door and across the porch to the hot tub. You both practically dove into it, letting the warm water bring feeling back to your skin.

“Can they see us?” Bradley nodded towards the cabin windows from the opposite side of the tub.

“Most definitely.” If you stole a glance, you could see at least five of your family members watching you two from in front of the fireplace. “Are we selling it?”

He chuckled. “Not at all. We look like strangers. Could you get any farther from me?”

“Sorry. We’ve only been together every minute since 6:15 this morning.”

His expression flickered, but before you could figure out with what, it flattened into a smile again. “Well, do you want to convince your family or not?”

“I do.”

He opened his arms. “Then get over here.”

You swam over to his waiting arms and settled practically in his lap.

“What are we doing?” You asked, laying your head against his chest, careful to not lean too much of your weight onto him. Careful not to let your heart beat out of your chest.

“I don’t know about you,” he said, “but I’m having a great time in Tahoe.”

“Sorry about my grandmother.” You drifted your hand along the surface of the water.

“She just wants to know you’re ok. And I was more than happy to reassure her.”

You opened your mouth – to say you weren’t ok, look at what you were doing – but heavy steps along the deck stopped you. You turned to see Tommy and Georgia in swimsuits made of the same matching green gingham fabric.

“Mind if we join?” Your brother asked, but he was already climbing over the side of the tub.

“Sure,” you answered, though you knew he wasn’t actually asking for permission.

Georgia slipped in after Tommy. She smiled with a hint of apology in her green eyes. “Thanks.”

For a moment, no one said anything. Tommy and Georgia sat across from you, fitting against one another like puzzle pieces. He draped an easy arm over her shoulder, and she entwined her fingers with his without thinking. No asking for permission. No awkwardness here. You suddenly felt very aware of Bradley’s hard body against yours.

Slowly, conversation eased around you all. Tommy and Georgia talked about school – over on the east coast – where he was studying accounting and she was studying biochemistry. Bradley talked about working as a pilot, deployments on aircraft carriers, and the general tomfoolery he and the Daggers got up to. Tommy said Sabrine was upset that her child wouldn’t be the first grandchild after Henry. Georgia said your grandparents were upset because Owen and Addison were leaving tonight. Something about having to miss the anniversary dinner because it’s her mom’s birthday, and they’re celebrating in the Bahamas.

You spoke a little, but mostly you basked in the soft silence the conversation afforded you, counted icicles hanging from the eaves, and tried not to think so hard about relaxing into Bradley’s body. If Tommy and Georgia couldn’t be fooled, it was hopeless.

“So…” Tommy gestured with his and Georgia’s hand at the two of you. “Who said I love you first?”

“What do you mean?” Your voice came out cold and sharp like the icicles above without you meaning to.

Bradley put a reassuring hand on your thigh. You hadn’t meant to get defense, and your brother raised his eyebrows at you.

Georgia kicked a foot out of the water, showing off her pink toenails. “They say you can tell a lot about a couple based on who said I love you first and when.”

“Who says that?” Your voice was softer.

“We do.” She and Tommy said in sync.

“Well,” Bradley started before you could say anything and make it worse. “I did. We were at our usual bar. I was a little drunk, and she just looked so stunning I couldn’t help myself, so –”

“It was charming,” you said. “He played our song on the piano. It was so romantic.”

He nodded. “A little embarrassing too. All our friends were there.”

“It was sweet, though.” You kicked him lightly under the jets. You were supposed to be the perfect couple, why was he trying to play up his embarrassment of an event that never actually happened?

“Charmingly, embarrassingly sweet.” He settled on the story and you nodded along.

Georgia asked, “What’s your song?”

“Oh, umm, what’s it called, sweetie? It’s…” You looked at Bradley, suddenly blanking on every song title ever.

Bradley looked up, the gears in his brain so obviously turning you didn’t think Georgia or even Tommy would buy your relationship. Finally, he snapped his fingers. “It’s called Great Balls of Fire.”

Ok, so he had blanked on every song title as well if the only one he could pull out of his ass was the one he played every weekend night at the Hard Deck. At least you were equally hopeless at thinking on the fly.

Tommy and Georgia nodded slowly. When it was clear neither of you had anything else to add, Georgia asked, “How long were you dating?”

“Three months,” you said at the same time Bradley said, “One month.”

Confusion spread across their faces like frost over a window.

“Well, it’s kind of funny…” You trailed off when you couldn’t think of a kind of funny explanation.

“We’d known each other for three months,” Bradley picked up your slack. “But had only been official for one. But we’ve been in love from the moment we laid eyes on each other, so the math gets complicated.”

He squeezed your thigh, and the condensation of your breaths mingled in the late afternoon sun. Panic prickled your skin. If only he’d known how true his words rang, if only for you.

Luckily, Tommy and Georgia began talking about how they met in high school algebra class, and the conversation steered safely away from the topic of your relationship.

When the sun set, everyone jumped out of the hot tub and raced back into the warmth of the cabin. You and Bradley took turns warming up in the shower and had your fill of the pizza Grandpa Thomas ordered.

Owen and Addison left the cabin with giant suitcases and sheepish smiles. Grandma Sybil’s anger burned brightly as they walked out the door. She launched into a diatribe about ungrateful grandkids. Funnily enough, her audience was made of her grandkids who had cared enough to stay. You swapped we'll-talk-about-this-later glances with your cousins. After a few awkward minutes, Grandpa Thomas ushered her to bed.

Everyone was quick to say their goodnights after that. You and Bradley headed up to your room. Only to be greeted by the problem of your full-sized bed.

“I could sleep on the floor,” you offered, unable to bear his silence.

He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I can do that.”

You bit your lip. You didn’t want to sleep on the floor, but Bradley had already done so much for you. He withstood Grandma Sybil, lied in front of your whole family, and the fact that he was even in Tahoe to begin with was still blowing your mind. You could take the floor for him.

“Seriously, get comfy in bed.” You pulled down the afghan and the comforter and fluffed the pillow a little. “I’ll grab some extra blankets.”

You slipped out the door before he could protest. You snuck down to the second floor where the linen closet was, just outside your parents’ room. You twisted the knob carefully so as not to alert them, but the closet door whined open anyway. You gathered whatever sheets and blankets were on top and shut it quickly but quietly.

Just when you thought you were in the clear, your mother opened her bedroom door. “Honey, it’s late. What do you need?”

You both glanced down at the abundance of quilts and sheets bundled in your arms. You had to think of an explanation, quick.

“Well, Bradley gets very cold at night. And it’s drafty up there.”

Your mom crossed her arms over her chest. “You used to complain all the time about how stuffy it was in your room.”

“That’s true.” You laughed and couldn’t meet her eyes. “I guess I run colder now than I used to.”

She looked at you over the frames of her reading glasses.

“Well, goodnight, Mom.” You turned to run back up the stairs.

“Honey?”

You swore silently but turned around.

“Is everything ok?” She asked. “You’ve been acting a little strange ever since you got here.”

“Oh, nothing’s the matter. I’m fine. I’m fine. Just, work’s been crazy, and with Bradley meeting the family, it’s been really stressful.”

“Ok.” Her face, which you’d known your whole life, was unreadable. “Let me know if I can do anything for you. I love you.”

“Love you too. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

When you were little, Sabrine would tease you by telling you the cabin was haunted. With the way you raced back to your room, it might have well been.

Bradley – damn him – was lying on your rug by the time you got back.

“I told you to take the bed.” You dumped the blankets onto the ground.

“I know.” He sat up and started grabbing the discarded blankets. “But I’m a gentleman. Take the bed.”

You were beyond tired. It had been a long day, and Bradley was already cocooning himself in blankets on the floor. An argument now would just draw out the inevitable.

You sighed. “I’m giving you the bed tomorrow night.”

“Whatever helps you sleep better,” he mumbled.

You turned off the lamp. It was as stuffy as it always was in your room, but you fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Sometime in the night, you woke to a shadow looming over you in the moonlight. You yawned and rubbed your eyes, thinking you were seeing things, but the shadow only solidified as your vision adapted to the low light. It was a tall, Bradley-looking shadow.

“Move over.” His voice was gruff with sleep.

You scooted toward the opposite edge of the bed, too tired to complain or ask questions. Your ancient bedframe squeaked as you shifted, practically screamed when Bradley sank onto your mattress.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled as a way of an explanation, but you were too sleepy to need one.

Your bed kept squeaking and groaning as the two tried to settle in without bothering the other. There was a small tug-of-war with the blankets. You lost because really, there was no way to win against Bradley in feats of strength.

You smiled to yourself in the darkness. Bradley Bradshaw was in your bed. He wasn’t touching you, and he stole most of your blankets, but he was in your bed.

His snoring filled the room as you drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Taglist:

@djs8891 @avengersfan25 @cornishkat @julielightwood @makingpeoplelaughsince1995 @abitdemented @darksparklesficrecs @igotmajordaddyissues @cupofchamomileeee @imaginationlover101 @simpfictionalcharacters @pizzapie349 @imaginecrushes @trashlandqueen @hookslove1592 @diorrfairy @allepaula @deakyjoe @the-chaotic-cow

[hellowhisperingstars]

Ghost!Eddie for funsies.

Echoes of You Masterlist

It's been five years since you lost Eddie in the Upside Down. You brought your little girl into the world only nine months after that whole event. You never got the chance to tell Eddie you were pregnant. She looks just like him. Big brown eyes, unruly curls, and a smile that knocks you out whenever she flashes it at you.

He would have loved her.

She's always been a special kid, not like El special, but a different kind of special. One that most people wouldn't understand. Weird things would happen around her.

Toys moved when neither of you touched them, the radio would turn on when no one was near it, you've caught her talking to someone you couldn't see so many times it became normal, and more then once you would walk back into the kitchen of your trailer to find all the cabinet doors and drawers open. That always scared you.

"Maisie," You called as you stood in the kitchen looking at the open kitchen. "Maisie!"

"Yeah, Mommy?" She asked in her cute little voice as she ran into the room. She had been coloring on the coffee table that Wayne had bought for you when you got the place.

"Were you looking for something baby?"

"No," She said shaking her head. "My friend was."

"Oh," You said as you moved into the kitchen to start closing up shop as you called it. "Did they find what they were looking for?"

"Did you?" She asked as she looked up at the open space next to her. "He said no... He wants to know if you got the Garfield mug from Grampa Wayne."

That stopped you in your tracks. Looking over your shoulder at her you took a deep breath. That was Eddie's favorite mug. "No baby. Grandpa still has that."

The two, or three, of you were quiet for a while kinda just looking at each other. "He says you should bring it here so he could use it."

Your heart was beating out of your chest. A chill ran up your spine. Eddie? "Baby... What does your friend look like?"

She blinked for a moment before she looked up at her friend. Her face scrunched up as she thought. "He's tall, his hair is fuzzy like mine, and he's wearing a green - a squishy green vest."

"Did he tell you his name?" You choked out.

"Eddie." She said looking up at him. "But said I could call him Teddy cause that's what you called him."

Your knees felt weak. Your throat dry as you tried to swallow the scream that got stuck in your throat. You tried to blink away the tears that started to form in your eyes. He was here. Eddie was here. He was still with you.

"He says you're still the prettiest girl he's ever seen." She whispered in that loud way kids do.

You giggled a little as you slowly sunk to the ground. Taking a moment to collect yourself you wiped at your eyes. "Did I ever tell you that your daddy's name was Eddie?"

She shook her head as she looked between the two of you, well you and the space next to her, and when you opened your arms for her she ran into them.

"Let me tell you about the time your daddy played the most metal concert in the world." Kissing her hair you looked up at the spot she was standing just seconds ago. You could almost see him sitting there watching you with that goofy smile you loved so much.

Part 2

[canonically47]

got back into sanders sides & decided to doodle designs for all of the guys!!! i may make some proper art and color it as well sometime.. sometime......

please click for better quality, its there i promise lol

thomas @thatsthat24 please put logan in a grandpa vest & give patton a dad flannel in season 3 ... listen to my prayers and my life shall be yours or however the meme goes 🙏 (love you thomas thanks for this great series 🫶🏼)

[milevenstancyendgame]

Mike's Outfit Rating S2

✨Find S1 here.

It's hard to determine the colours and details of this outfit, because it's night time, but at least we get these two hilarious screencaps:

Nancy's face is everything in this scene (love her wallpaper btw).😆

Also, Mike's face.😂

Any way. We start with what looks like black trousers and a black jacket, but if you zoom in on the bike photo, the trousers have a brown sheen, and zooming in on the photo above, the jacket looks more like dark blue with a velvety brown collar.😳

Very interesting.🤔 Would have loved to see that in better light. The shirt is light grey with red, white, and probably dark blue stripes.

We hate to say it, but that shirt is awful.😒 BUT I like the dark brown and velvety collar.🤎 So have

2 out of 5 ⭐⭐ (I'm less generous this season, sorry bestie)

Definitely got the Ernie vibes this season.🤓 These might actually be the same brown trousers as in outfit nr. 1, this time with a dark blue shirt with red, white, and green stripes, plus our old friend! The blue hoodie.😱

Mike, you should know my opinion on blue by now.😮‍💨 Especially dark blue. It's only

1 out of 5 ⭐ 😔

The expressions sure are gold!😆 Now this is THE Special™ Outfit of the season.✨ Iconic.👌We love the cosplay, we love that logo with the ghostie and bright red.👻🚫 We love that it's not blue.🙏 Overalls aren't very stylish though. And beige...😬😬😬 And that proton pack is a fashion nightmare.💅 What a mix. Let's say halfway happy at

3 out of 5 ⭐⭐⭐

Have a photo dump of this one, because it's my favourite from the season - which doesn't mean much.😐 The full body shot is the best:

Inquisitive Wheeler!🧐

Man, he really loves those brown trousers.😂 I'm still not sure if they're corduroy or not, it's hard to tell. Also hard to tell if the sweaters base colour is beige or grey. But it has a wild palette of yellow, brown, green, and blue patterns on it.🤯 Certified Grandpa Sweater©.👴🏻 The collar of the shirt beneath seems to be dark green. It better be.🤨

Any way, love the old-fashioned energy, the amount of not-primary colours, especially the green.😌♏ We rise again to

3 out of 5 ⭐⭐⭐

And it's already time for our finale outfit.😭

Bestie had the good idea to change trousers before tracking vines, fighting demodogs, and setting tunnels on fire.👏 But guess who's back? The dark blue sweater.😬 And yet ANOTHER grey striped shirt.😮 Indeed, it's not the same as from the first outfit, this one has yellow and dark blue stripes. Seriously Mike, how many of those do you own??👹💀

Also:

THAT blanket with THAT outfit?😱

What can I say.😶 The only thing I like is the dark green trousers, but they clash with the hoodie of doom.😬 It's back to

1 out of 5 ⭐

Shout out for the apocalyptic vibes of this though:

They all deserve to be shown.😂👌Love how everyone's "WTF" in the last picture, but Mike's gone back into 😍 mode.🤭

Ah yes. The Snow Ball.❄️ Such a beautiful, heart-warming ending.💖 But not fashion-wise.😐

I don't even know what to say about those colour combinations. Why would you do that to a child.

The colour of the trousers is impossible to say. It might actually be black. But it goes downhill from there.🫠 Light blue button-up with red tie?🙊 Plus GREY sweater vest??🙉 With YELLOW and BROWN and WHITE and BLACK stripes??🙈 PLUS LIGHT BROWN VELVETY JACKET???😵‍💫😵🤯🤢

The funeral outfit was decent, what happened?😫 Unforgiveable.😤 This is it. The moment I hand out

0 of 5 stars 💀💀💀

Now I understand why s2 was my least favourite season.🫡

Besties. I'm so glad s3 is next. So so glad.🥲

[munsonkitten]

excerpt from ch9 of you make me feel like i am whole again on AO3

It’s only a couple days until Christmas and Eddie doesn’t have anything for anyone. Wayne doesn’t expect anything, but Eddie still tries every year to get him a mug or a hat to add to his collections. It’s easy stuff, but Eddie’s terrified of going out now.

He feels like he’s gained twenty pounds in the last week, which he knows isn’t true, but he still feels that way. Everything he tries, he’s too aware of the bump beneath his clothes, and Steve’s stopped telling him it isn’t noticeable.

It’s during his panic about gifts when Jeff calls. Jeff, who is home from school on winter break and wants to get the band together like old times, who wants to practice and maybe see if they can get a show at the Hideout some night, and Eddie… Eddie accepts.

Like a fucking idiot.

So now he’s still panicking about gifts, but he’s even more panicked as he shuts his guitar in her case and changes his shirt six times, and then his pants. He puts on a pair of Steve’s in the end, just barely fitting because Eddie’s filling out all the space Steve’s ass usually takes up, and —

And that’s how Steve finds him.

“Are you going somewhere?”

Steve’s standing there in Eddie’s bedroom doorway with his Family Video vest draped over one arm and a paper bag held in the other.

“Band practice,” Eddie squeaks, covering his face with his hands because he has no idea why he agreed to it in the first place. “I’m freaking out, man.”

“Weren’t you going to tell them, anyway?” Steve asks.

He crosses the room and sets the paper bag down on Eddie’s desk. He digs in it for a second before pulling out what appears to be black denim. He pulls the tag off and tosses it toward Eddie.

A new pair of jeans.

Eddie could cry.

He goes over and kisses Steve, dropping the jeans to the floor so he can wrap his arms around his neck. Steve’s arms circle around his waist and pull him in close. They hold each other for a second because even this small gesture reminds Eddie how much he loves Steve.

“Will you come with me?” Eddie asks.

“Of course,” Steve whispers, pressing another kiss to Eddie’s lips.

And just like that, Eddie isn’t so panicked anymore. Because Steve is going to be there, and his band already knows he’s gay, so maybe they’ll be okay with the rest of it, and it’ll all be fine.

“I got some things,” Steve says, dropping his arms away from Eddie’s waist and stepping away.

He goes back to the bag on the desk and starts pulling things out of it.

A mug. He passes it over to Eddie, who reads it as Steve talks.

“I know, uh,” Steve says. “The baby isn’t here yet, but I mean, it’s Christmas soon, and I figure, you know, might as well just get it now, and—”

Eddie does start crying, then, because Steve got Wayne a World’s Best Grandpa mug and he’s so fucking emotional these days it’s not even funny, so who can really blame him for the waterworks right now.

Steve wipes Eddie’s tears away with gentle thumbs on his cheeks.

“Is it okay?” Steve asks softly.

Eddie sniffles and nods. “He’ll love it.”

Read on AO3

[technovillain]

Shooting you with my beams i gotta know. Do you think sam and dogens parents were like. Good parents? What are they like. What’s their current relationship with their kids like

HIIII HIIII HELLO!!!!

I thinkkkk they were the best they could be despite it all. Like I said in last post, I think they were very chill parents to Sam when she was growing up. They lived their life in a work-focused but ultimately really relaxed way. Since they didn't really have to worry about paying rent, probably lol... Sam grew up lonely but really loved by her parents. She was given a lot of freedom to just sort of roam about. Geffrey was always a bit cautious about this, but Mallory insisted it was good for her brain development. "She's gotta go out and figure things out on her own sometimes!" She says, when Sam is 6. Okay yeah, but she's going to be very weird. Give that kid a brother! Okay, well she's still very weird.

Dogen's whole head-exploding-thing kind of changed things in regard to how the parenting was going. Right after it happened, the parents got into contact with Compton immediately, sending him into another big wave of anxiety and panic. I think Compton's little hat is some sort of thing to keep him from his unwanted blastokinesis coming through, and Compton helped make sure that Dogen kept his hat on at all times. As we can see it seems to work pretty well (except you know. he'll blow up some squirrels if it gets knocked crooked) Witnessing their baby blowing up someone's head accidentally was kind of traumatizing and it took them a few years to not treat him like a stick of dynamite with a lit fuse toddling around their house. Understandably. But still, they would never abandon their child. Mallory would change diapers with oven mitts, a lead vest, and a football helmet on. For a while they would give him whatever he wanted, afraid of what would happen if he cried. So really he didn't live that bad of a life.

As Dogen got a little older, Mallory got more and more insistent that he wear his hat, and she had to start to sort of explain why. That's why when asked by Raz if he explodes heads, Dogen says "No. Well, once, kinda..." I don't think he knows the extent of what happened. I don't think he's allowed to know that. But not knowing the extent of it kind of makes him a little bit more angsty about it, makes him just a little more dangerous. Whoops.

I think their current relationship is pretty good, just weird. After Sam got kicked in the head by a goat and suddenly "came to" her psychic powers, the parents realized their family was weirder than they could really understand, so they were forced to get into contact with weird Grandpa Compton and get the kids hooked up to the weird psychic organization. Sigh...but they'd support their kids all the way. Sam's been doing school at the Motherlobe for a couple of years now, and Dogen was sent off to camp this summer. He isn't happy about it, but his parents see he needs more outside exposure so he isn't too sheltered, that would probably just make him worse. And the Psychonauts organization all vouch for his safety at Whispering Rock.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Some fun facts about Abraham while I'm stuck waiting for my brother:

He was the fourth Larger Seagull engine to be made, making him a middle sibling (since there were eight Furness Railway K2 class engines in total);

In his youth he was a rather unremarkable and soft-spoken engine, which often got him ignored in conversation by his much louder siblings (something which he took to heart). As a result, Abe eventually grew to hate his own voice and became selectively mute. He communicates almost entirely through his whistle now, which is partially a punishment he imposes on others for ignoring his advice (forcing them to work to actually understand him), and partially something he considers amusing (he loves to watch the dawning realisation of those who slowly piece together the sentences he's cobbling together, which fly over the heads of anyone who doesnt understand morse code).

I've mentioned in another post that when it came time for the Furness Railway to get rid of the Larger Seagulls, that the manager instead sold them off in secret because he couldn't bring himself to destroy such hard-working and loyal engines. While Edward was left in Sodor as a sort of "gift" to the Fat Controller, Abe and the rest of their siblings were sold to different countries to conceal the anti-scrapping plot.

Moving to China was... Quite the jarring experience for Abe. He had to learn an entirely new language and a few regional dialects on his own, which he struggled with for the first couple of weeks. But, once the other engines realised there was a very obvious language barrier, they did their best to teach him. In return, Abe taught them morse code so that he wasn't forced to speak when it made him uncomfortable. In due time, the other engines began to call him Yéyé Abe (Grandpa Abe).

Abe has had many crews in the past, but none of them had become nearly as fond to him as his current one who treat him like a member of their families. He considers his driver, Yinuo, to be his best friend, and acts like an great-uncle to the man's granddaughter Yanhai. His firewoman, Mei, is his gossip partner and enabler of mischief and shenanigans (they have a mutual respect due to some circumstances they'd rather not divulge).

When he finally came to Sodor to help establish a partnership between railways, he was very surprised to find one of his older brothers and two youngest siblings alive and well. He quickly got reacquainted with them and was initially very confused by Edward's change of heart/behaviour (since their last encounter was not a pleasant one at all). He got over his shock very quickly and began to tease him as any older brother would their younger brother.

While he used to be quite shy, Abe became a very extroverted and goofy engine in his old age. He enjoys joking with and flustering other engines for the fun of it, resorting to flirting just to get a reaction. It's even funnier when the target of his teasing doesn't understand what he's doing but outside parties do (his best 'hit' was unabashedly peeping poetics at Gordon in plain view of the Flying Scotsman, who grew considerably redder in the face the more of Abe's whistling he deciphered).

Despite the shenanigans he's wont to get up to, Abe is just as wise as Edward and willing to offer a helping buffer where it's needed, albeit often resorting to a hands-on approach rather than advising others.

His overall design is meant to allude to a barbershop quartet member's outfit. The gaudy orange with white stripes livery being reminiscent of a vest, the bent rail above his firebox/face mimicking a hair curl, and moustache giving him a more refined look. His driver's strawboat hat and cane are often left hanging on Abe, to properly sell the theme of his design.