#I’m a phillie but I was thinking about wad and like.

[itcouldbeyourlastmistake]

huge fan of dan howell. btw

[freckliedan]

wait i’m loving this can you elaborate more on the moon card for dan and death card for phil? and what your interpretation is?

i agree that they’ll need a little post tour break but that it’ll be more definitive, like ‘hey we’re going to take 4-6 weeks to chill so don’t expect anything’ kind of thing.

i mean phil's very clearly heading in that direction; death is about massive amounts of change. phil very clearly wasn't going to have a crazy girl era at the same time as dan, like?

in a long term relationship sometimes overlapping bad days are unavoidable but often you can like. take turns having a truly "i'm figuring out who i am and being insane and trying new things and processing some stuff for a while" era.

and i think dan and phil's relationship is healthy, but that phil also put a lot on hold for years that he didn't even realize he wasn't processing. but it froze him up. and dan had his crazy girl era first after they came out because it was still a part of his necessary journey yknow? and until touring WAD dan still hadn't fully self-actualized as an individual outside of the context of his relationship with phil.

so now it's phil's turn to reinvent/rediscover himself. to go crazy ahh go stupid. and we've been seeing the slow build of that, the phlonde is a MASSIVE early piece of it, but like. 2025. mark my words. will be for the fucking phillies.

the moon as dan's tarot card of 2025 goes CRAZY. btw. it's about emotions/dreams/intuition/anxieties+fears/possibilities and discerning what is true for you when things are unclear; it's very much so a card related to one's inner world and how connected they are to it.

and the moon can be very directly connected to femininity.

dan howell. gender is coming for you bad.

i do not think the moon will be an easy card for dan to integrate the learning from? considering the way he overthinks. but i'm also completely unsurprised that tour is going to contribute to something like this? i was already kind of anticipating the possibility but it wasn't something i was willing to Predict (tm) before.

but like. it matches the pattern. tour means interfacing with a lot of fans and we know that interactive introverts had a massive impact on dan's processing and readiness to share about his sexuality. so many of us are very gendery now and dan's been talking a lot about gender in the last year.

and now he's going to get whammied by the fucking moon. >:)

whatever. anyways. phil's gonna blow everyone's dicks plumb off with never before seen confidence and hotness and dan's getting a new gender. as far as i can tell.

[phregnancy]

i do think them making jokes about ben wouldnt out anything and he looks like a very close person to them!! i do not see how them joking about makes it any less true! and the jokes dan made about him during wad um if those where made about phil everyone would be like ooo this is crazy but since its ben then its noo its diff u now??? ben asked whos ass claps the hardest its a man that loves those two twinks to me and im not joking!! i can get ur anon about that its so weird that im talking about this, i get it really but um its just tumblr they never gonna see this?? i could talk about this with my friends but they um dont give a fuck about this so .............

i mean maybe! tbh i don’t really have a stance on this or know the ben lore intricacies because i don’t really know or care about ben and what dan’s doing with him if it’s not about phil. i’m a phillie first so if phil is not involved then 🙅🤷

[whumphoarder]

Emergency Contact

Summary: It’s not that James disliked his roommate, it’s just that they didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.

Or, in which fifteen-year-old college freshman Tony Stark needs a ride to the ER and James Rhodes is too responsible for his own good.

Word count: 4,050

Genre: sickfic, hurt/comfort, angst, whump

A/N: Thank you so much to @xxx-cat-xxx and @sallyidss for beta reading, ideas, and encouragement!

Link to read on Ao3

It’s not that James disliked his roommate, it’s just that they didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.

To be fair, the skinny five-foot-four prepubescent kid who’d walked into James’ dorm on move-in day didn’t look much like a college student, nor was he lugging in cardboard boxes and duffle bags filled with crap like the rest of the freshmen in the hall. There was no air of excitement and trepidation to him—no telltale buzz of new experiences. Not to mention, James had spent the majority of his summer away at Air Force ROTC camp, cut off from most forms of media and therefore oblivious to the rumors that Howard Stark’s infamous fifteen-year-old child prodigy was set to start his engineering course at MIT the very same semester that he was. It was hardly his fault for not recognizing the kid.

Even so, he probably shouldn’t have addressed Tony as ‘champ’ and asked if he was there to drop off an older sibling. That was on him.

What was not on James, however, was the fit Stark pitched at the resident assistant’s office upon realizing that his father had evidently not set him up with a single room after all.

“So move me then,” the little twerp demanded. “Just put it on the old man’s bill—he’s got the money. I didn’t just live through the last seven years of boarding school dormitories only to have to keep sharing the fucking bathroom in college.” He glanced over his shoulder at James, before adding, offhandedly, “No offense—I’m sure you’re swell.”

James huffed out a short, ironic laugh. He was standing in the back corner of the office with his back leaning against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest, quietly taking in the scene unfolding in front of him. “None taken.”

(At this point, he wouldn’t have minded a switch either.)

The mousy redhead at the desk looked frazzled. “Look, I’m very sorry, Mr. Stark,” she tried to explain, “but there’s nothing I can do. All our single dorms are fully booked.”

Even when the kid shoved a wad of cash at her tall enough to make James’ eyebrows rise, the RA held her ground.

“It’s a first come, first serve policy,” she explained, her voice faltering, but words firm. “At least until something opens up. I’m sorry, but that’s just how it has to be.”

So there they were, a nineteen-year-old Air Force cadet from a working class family in Philly who had gotten into ‘fancy school’ on an ROTC scholarship, a 3.87 GPA, and a prayer, and a spoiled rich brat with a pile of daddy issues taller than the Bunker Hill Monument. The two were going to be stuck together for at least the next few weeks and neither of them was particularly thrilled about it.

X

Despite James’ initial concerns, rooming with Stark wasn’t actually that bad.

James had an additional scholarship that was dependent on his academic performance, so he joined several study groups to keep his grades up. Between ROTC, student government, and mock UN, along with his never-ending mountain of engineering coursework, he was rarely home.

Meanwhile, Tony might look like a twelve-year-old, but that certainly didn’t get in the way of his budding popularity on campus. The kid was swimming in invites to different parties and events (though whether that was due to his own sharp wit and natural charisma, or simply his undeniable social status as the son of Howard Stark, James couldn’t tell). Either way, between James’ busy schedule and Tony’s avid social calendar, the two could go days without seeing each other, which suited them both just fine.

With all the partying, James figured his roommate’s grades must be suffering, but a curious glance at the quarterly report letter lying on Tony’s desk last week proved otherwise. The kid had straight A’s in all seven of his classes—two more than James himself was taking.

(Alright, maybe he disliked Tony a little bit.)

X

James knew it wasn’t going to be a good day from the moment he woke up to see sunlight streaming in through the blinds. That just wasn’t supposed to happen at 5:45 a.m. in November.

“Shit,” he muttered, scrambling out of his twin-size bunk. The display on his alarm clock was silently blinking the very incorrect time of ‘12:00’. The previous night’s storm must have knocked out the power. He grabbed his watch from atop his desk to check the actual time and immediately breathed out a sigh of relief. 7:22. No morning run today, but he should still be able to make it to his eight a.m. class if he hurried.

Still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he snagged some clean clothes from his dresser and made a beeline to the adjoining bathroom. He pushed open the door and slapped on the light switch, but the second the room illuminated to reveal the scrawny figure sitting slumped on the floor between the toilet and the wall, James froze.

“Tony?” he asked in confusion. He hadn’t even heard the kid come home last night.

Without opening his eyes, Tony hummed a bit in response. Then all at once, he lurched forward and gagged, coughing up what looked to be mostly bile into the toilet bowl.

James grimaced. It was definitely not the first time he’d seen his roommate severely hungover, but it was the first time he’d seen it happen on a Tuesday . At the rate this kid was partying, he’d be lucky if he had any liver function left by the time he graduated.

With a sigh, James set his stack of clean clothes down on the sink counter. “Look man, I’m sorry, but I really gotta shower. I know you’re not feeling too great, but do you think you can give me, like, five minutes in here?”

Tony blinked up at him, seeming to process the question. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay…”

Doing his best to ignore the acidic smell of vomit, James stepped carefully around Tony into the small room. He flushed the toilet and grabbed the metal trash can from beside the sink while Tony pulled himself shakily to his feet.

“Thanks dude. I promise I’ll be fast.” He passed the can off to Tony and watched him stumble back out of the room before shutting the door.

If the military had taught James nothing else, it was efficiency. He emerged ten minutes later—showered, dressed, and clean shaven—to find Tony sitting listlessly on the edge of his bed. The boy looked more dead than alive, with one arm wrapped around his stomach and sweat soaking through his thin gray t-shirt. Just the sight of him was practically an underage drinking PSA in itself.

“Bathroom’s all yours,” James announced as he grabbed his backpack from the floor.

Tony acknowledged him with a small grunt, but didn’t make any effort to move. His mouth was slightly open and he was breathing through it carefully, warily eyeing the trash can on the floor in front of him. For once, James was glad he had an eight a.m. class to get to; he figured in about five minutes, he wouldn’t want to be here anyway.

In a spur of the moment gesture of kindness, James grabbed a fresh bottle of water from the case under his desk and tossed it onto Tony’s bed. “Feel better, dude,” he said on his way out the door.

X

Tuesday was always a busy day for James. He had back-to-back classes all morning, followed by a student council meeting in the afternoon and a mandatory ROTC training session. It was nearly seven o’clock by the time he made it back to the dorm, and by that time he’d honestly forgotten about that morning’s excitement until he opened the door to their room.

As miserable as Tony had appeared that morning, he looked decidedly worse now. He was lying curled up on the edge of his bed in a tangle of sheets and blankets, cheeks flushed and body shivering. The whole room carried the vague scent of vomit, though the trash can by the bed was currently empty.

“So… I take it this isn’t a hangover?” James deduced, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He plopped the paper sack of Taco Bell that was going to make up his dinner onto his desk, causing Tony’s face to scrunch up in displeasure. “Stomach flu?” he guessed.

Tony made a non-committal sound in the back of his throat.

“Think you got a fever?”

Another low noise issued from Tony, somewhere between a grunt and a moan, which James took to mean something along the lines of ‘don’t know, and don’t care.’

James hesitated a moment, unsure what to do. If his mother were here, she’d tisk her tongue and press her hand to the kid’s forehead to gauge his temperature, but somehow he didn’t see that going over too well with Tony.

Instead, James checked his watch and sighed. “I can give you a ride to the student health center if you want,” he offered. “They don’t close until eight.”

“Don’ have to... ‘s just a bug,” Tony mumbled into the pillow, the most consecutive words James had heard from him all day. “I’ll be fine.”

The thing was, if Tony were one of his ROTC buddies, James would have dropped it right there. He’d never been particularly good at caretaking, and besides, he had a test coming up in his thermal-fluids class tomorrow morning that he should really be studying for. But something about the utter vulnerability Tony was displaying at the moment gave James pause. True, the kid might be a stuck-up asshole, but he was also just that— a kid. Only a few years older than James’ own kid-brother.

James looked at Tony appraisingly. “Can you handle a shower?”

“Huh?” Tony breathed.

“A shower,” James repeated. “Remember those? Water, soap, maybe even some shampoo if you’re feeling adventurous,” he said wryly. “That is, if you can do it without passing out.”

Tony fixed him with a rather pathetic glare. “Not gonna pass out.”

“You better not,” James quipped, crossing his arms and watching as Tony pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’ve seen more than enough white boys’ pasty asses this summer to last a lifetime. I have no desire to add another.”

(Tony lifted his middle finger weakly in his roommate’s direction.)

X

Over the sound of the shower running in the background, James ate his tacos and started flipping through his class notes in preparation for the test the next morning, but he was finding it unusually hard to focus. He kept listening for any sounds of distress from the bathroom, and after fifteen minutes had elapsed, he got up from his desk and crossed the room.

“Hey, I was serious about the ‘no passing out’ rule, Stark,” he hollered, rapping his knuckles against the door. “If you biff it in there, you’re on your own.”

As if on cue, a loud crashing sound immediately issued from inside the shower.

James’ eyes widened. He jiggled the door handle only to find it locked. “Tony?” he called. “Did you just fall?”

There was no response.

James cursed. He grabbed a paper clip from his desk and quickly jimmied the flimsy lock open—a skill he’d learned from his cousins years ago—before pushing open the door. “Tony?” he called again.

Suddenly, a hand emerged and pulled the edge of the shower curtain back just enough for Tony to stick his head out the side. His face was totally straight, but there was a hint of mirth in his eyes. “Whoops, must’ve dropped the shampoo bottle,” he deadpanned. “Thank god I’m rooming with the US Coast Guard.”

“Air Force,” James corrected irritably.

Tony pulled the curtain back closed. “Whatever.”

James rolled his eyes. “Next time I’m letting you drown, Stark...” he grumbled as he stepped back out of the room.

X

By the time Tony finally emerged from the bathroom an additional twenty minutes later (the latter ten of which he’d spent retching loud enough into the toilet that James had broken out his walkman and headphones), all traces of his earlier humor had dissolved. He moved shakily back to his bed and managed a couple sips of water before curling up on his side, the trash can within easy reach.

James tried to turn his attention back to his textbook, but Tony’s labored breathing as he drifted in and out of consciousness was making it difficult to focus. James kept stealing worried side glances back at the bed, wondering whether there was something else he should be doing.

At around nine-thirty, Tony jerked up suddenly and stumbled back to the bathroom to start dry-retching into the toilet again, and that was when James gave up trying to study for the night. He got up from his desk and pushed open the hastily half-closed door to the bathroom to wet a washcloth at the sink. When the mostly unproductive spasms ceased, he handed the cloth to Tony.

“Have you eaten anything today?” James asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer already.

Tony just grimaced and shook his head.

“Want some crackers or something?” he offered. “I can go raid the cafeteria soup station.” James might not have had as packed of a social calendar as Tony, but it wasn’t like he never partied. He still knew the college hangover tricks.

Tony shook his head again, eyes closed. He seemed to lack the energy for words.

“Gatorade at least then?” James tried again. “All I’ve seen you drink today is one water bottle—you’ve gotta be getting dehydrated by now.”

Another head shake. “I’ll jus’ puke it up again…” Tony muttered. “Prob’ly a kidney too at this rate.”

“Well it’s better than puking up nothing,” James reasoned. Technically, he didn’t know if that was true or not, but he was tired of watching the kid be miserable. He moved back to the room to grab his keys and jacket. “What flavor do you want?” he called.

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony croaked back from the bathroom. “They’re all terrible.”

“That’s the most ignorant thing I’ve ever heard you say,” James retorted. “Just for that you’re getting purple.”

And with that, he exited the dorm and shut the door behind him with a bang.

X

It turned out that the vending machine in the lobby outside the dining hall only sold three Gatorade flavors—blue, orange, and red. James bought a bottle of each, then slipped into the deserted cafeteria to snag a handful of individually-wrapped saltine packets from the clam chowder counter before heading back to the dorm. It took some cajoling, but he managed to get two full crackers and half a bottle of the sports drink into Tony before it came right back up.

“Told you,” Tony rasped, spitting neon blue strings of bile into the toilet bowl. “Lost cause.”

“We’ll try red next,” James said, cracking open a fresh bottle. “One of them’s bound to stick.”

But red didn’t stay down any better, and neither did orange. James mooched a can of ginger ale and a quarter of a bottle of Pepto Bismol off a fellow cadet down the hall, but those fared no better. Even the cup of tap water James kept bullying him into taking sips from proved too much.

By midnight, Tony was still sitting slumped against the toilet on the bathroom floor, barely conscious, and James was at a total loss. “I think we have to go to the ER,” he admitted finally.

Without opening his eyes, Tony made a low noise of discontent in the back of his throat. His eyes were sunken in and he was alarmingly pale.

James let out a deep sigh. “Look, I’m sorry man, but we’re running out of options here. If you can’t even keep water down, you’re gonna need an IV.”

“No…” Tony lifted a shaky hand to try to take the cup of water James was holding. “I’ll-I’ll try again… just—” His words were cut off by a weak gag.

James cursed under his breath and quickly steered Tony’s head back over the bowl. It turned out not to matter though because for the next several minutes of miserable retching, nothing came up. When it was finally over, Tony slumped back against the wall. His eyes were red and puffy, and James figured it was only dehydration that was keeping the tears from falling.

“Alright, that’s it,” James declared. He wrapped an arm around Tony to lever him upright, feeling the feverish heat coming off the kid in waves. “I’m not letting you die on our bathroom floor—we won’t get the deposit back.”

Tony breathed out the ghost of a laugh. “Jus’ tell Howard to write you a check at the funeral...” he murmured. “‘bout all he’s good for,” he added under his breath.

James’ brow furrowed but he chose not to comment. He hoisted Tony to his feet and bore most of the kid’s weight as he led him back to the bedroom and sat him down on the edge of the mattress. “I’m gonna get you a clean shirt, okay?”

Tony nodded, gazing blankly forward with half-lidded eyes. James ended up having to help the kid pull his sweat-soaked t-shirt off and guide his uncooperative arms into a fresh one, followed by his coat. When they got to the shoes, James didn’t even bother having Tony try himself. He just stuffed the kid’s feet into a pair of sneakers for him.

“I taught my little sister how to do this last summer,” James explained as he tied Tony’s laces, if only for something to fill the awkward silence. “She’s in first grade.”

Tony hummed lightly. “I never went.”

James frowned, pulling the knot tight. “What do you mean?”

“Firs’ grade,” Tony clarified. “Or second. They started me in third.”

James smirked, imagining tiny five-year-old Tony filling out his multiplication tables in a classroom full of kids a full head taller than him. But his face quickly fell again as he suddenly realized a potential flaw in their plan. Tony may be in college, but he was still technically a minor. James wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to bring him off campus. “Shit, we’re gonna need to call your parents...” he said.

Tony’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Why?”

James raised an eyebrow. “Because I’m about to haul their fifteen-year-old son’s ass off to the hospital? Have you been following this conversation at all?”

“Oh. Jus’ leave a note for the RA.” Tony shrugged, listless. “They won’t care.”

James gave him a strange look. “Of course they’ll care—they’re your parents.”

Tony’s eyes were glassy with fever. “They won’t,” he croaked. “Been in boarding school since I was seven.” A shiver ran through his body and he swallowed hard before continuing. “Got pneumonia one winter and was in the hospital eight days. Dad jus’ paid the school to handle everything—didn’ even visit.” A tear finally slipped down the side of his cheek. “I was twelve.”

James knew it was just the fever making Tony so forthcoming at the moment, but it didn’t make his words any easier to take. As much as James always complained about his own mother’s doting whenever he wasn’t feeling well, he couldn’t imagine being sick enough to be in the hospital and not having anyone there for him. He didn’t know what to say.

Thankfully, Tony broke the awkward silence. “Sorry,” he whispered, closing his eyes and pressing his palm against them. “‘M fine.”

With a quiet sigh, James put his arm around Tony to help him back to standing. “You know what? We’ll just call them when we get there,” he said before leading Tony out to the car.

X

The drive to the hospital was uneventful. Tony sat curled up in the passenger seat of James’ old beater of a Chevy Monza with an empty plastic bag in his lap, quiet except for the occasional whimper he’d let out when they’d hit a bump in the road. When they arrived, James got Tony checked in and situated in the waiting room with some forms to fill out before stepping out to the foyer to use the payphone.

James fished the scrap of paper containing the number that Tony had finally agreed to give him out of his pocket. He dialed it three times. Each time, the call was picked up by the answering machine. On the third round, he left the Starks a brief message stating which hospital Tony was at and how they could contact their son, then hung up quickly before he could add anything else he might come to regret.

He reentered the waiting area to find Tony sitting hunched forward in his chair, breathing shallowly and clutching the small kidney-shaped basin that the triage nurse had given him like his life depended on it. “What’d they say?” he murmured. James wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard just a hint of hopefulness in the kid’s voice.

Without meeting Tony’s gaze, he slid into the seat beside him. “They didn’t answer,” he said guiltily.

Tony’s tone returned to flat: “Shocking.”

“They’re probably just asleep,” James reasoned, trying to sound more certain than he felt. “I left a message, but we can try again later.”

Tony hummed absently. Then all at once, he brought the small plastic container he was holding up to his mouth and threw up whatever little liquid remained in him. His hands were trembling so hard that James had to help him steady the basin.

When the heaving stopped, one of the nurses from the front desk exchanged the used basin for a clean one. Tony grunted in thanks, then looked up wearily and locked eyes with James. “You really don’ have to stay.”

James gave a tiny scoff. “What? You think I’d just leave you here to faceplant on the linoleum?”

Tony shrugged a bit. “‘S not like we’re friends, Jim.”

James pondered this for a few seconds before returning the shrug. “I guess you’re right.” He settled back in his chair and picked up a copy of Good Housekeeping from the stack on the waiting room table, flipping it idly open on his lap. “Too bad I’m invested now.”

X

It was around three a.m. by the time Tony’s name was called. He was taken back and briefly examined before getting hooked up to an IV line for fluids and antiemetics. The doctor ordered some bloodwork to be sure, but said that all signs pointed to a virus. As soon as they could get the vomiting under control and Tony’s vitals stabilized, he should be good to go.

While Tony dozed in and out of consciousness on the ER bed, fluids dripping steadily into his arm, James just sat there, silently mulling the events of the last sixteen hours or so over in his mind. It was weird seeing Tony like this—weak, and small, and just so undeniably young.

James waited until the clock struck five before slipping quietly over to the phone located near the nurse’s station. This time, he dialed a different number—one he knew by heart.

A familiar voice answered on the third ring: “Hello?”

Instant warmth flooded James’ chest at the sound. “Hey Ma,” he said softly.

“James?” His mother’s tone changed from puzzled to concerned in two seconds flat. “It’s so early, baby. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Ma,” he assured, the corners of his lips turning up into the smallest of smiles. “Just wanted to catch you before you left for work.”

“Well, you got me,” she laughed lightly. Over the line, James could hear her bustling around the kitchen, pouring coffee into a mug. “What do you need, baby?”

James hesitated a second, his gaze shifting back in the direction of Tony’s bed. “It’s nothing, just… I wanted to ask if I could invite someone home for Thanksgiving next week.” He shifted his gaze back in the direction of Tony’s bed. “I get the feeling he could really use it...”

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[himbowelsh]

anonymous asked:   Babe be so cute in that legendary darts scene no wonder Easy took him in right away. Look at him. You take one look at that kid and you want to protect him at all costs. He looks like he could bring you luck. Imagine Easy dragging Babe everywhere because Bill's team won some game once right after Babe started playing and everyone got it into their heads that Babe is their personal rabbit's foot. His friends running up to him to like rub his shoulder or touch his head because they gotta win!

ok so i just had to fic this, and it spiralled from there

Somewhere around Babe’s fourth Easter — and he only knows that because his brother Johnny was just a baby, and his sister wasn’t around at all — the family had an Unfortunate Rabbit Incident.

To be specific: Uncle Eddie tried to surprise the kids by bringing home a tiny bunny in a basket, surrounded by fake tissue paper grass. It was a real nice gesture... but got less Alice-In-Wonderland when the family’s dog, massive, shaggy Bumble, caught sight of the thing. 

Uncle Eddie set the basket down, and Bumble went straight for the kill.

The children were screaming. Bumble was missing for hours. The bunny fled the scene, vanishing somewhere into Babe’s rough South Philly neighborhood, never to be seen again. Ma ended up burning the ham. It was a traumatic Easter.

That’s just part of the reason rabbits have always made Babe shudder a little. The root of the problem — not that he’s the introspective sort, but some things just stay with you — was the old rabbit’s foot Nanny Heffron used to wear on a chain ‘round her neck. Now, Nanny Heffron was a real character. The rabbit’s foot wasn’t close to the weirdest thing about her — that’d be the glass eye — but it sure ranked up there. It was an old, ratty thing, hanging on a rust-rotten chain. In absent moments, Nanny’s hand would drift to it, and she’d rub the little devil like she was trying to press some life back into it. “This,” she declared once, holding the nasty ornament very close to little Babe’s face, “brings me all my luck.”

That next week, Nanny Heffron was run over by a taxi cab.

She survived, to be fair, so maybe there was something to be said for the rabbit’s foot. Still, that ain’t the point.

The worst ever Easter, or Nanny Heffron’s mummified rabbit foot… take your pick. Fact of the matter is, Babe’s never loved bunnies, Easter’s no favorite holiday, and he sure doesn’t believe little superstitious things bring any sort of luck.

He’s not sure he believes in luck at all, really. When he mentioned the word in front of Bill, his friend just scoffed. “Ain’t no luck in war,” Bill declared around a mouthful of ham-and-cheese sandwich. “You can be the luckiest bastard in the world, ‘til one day you’re not. What’s it matter then? If I’m standing in one spot and a fella’s standing right next to me, and he gets blown to bits, am I lucky it wasn’t me? Or was I just standing in the right place?”

“Think they’re the same thing,” Babe pointed out, sipping his juice doubtfully. “You’re thinking of destiny. Divine what’s-it-called.”

“That too,” Bill declared, holding up a finger. “Ain’t no such thing. Maybe seems like it back home, but not here… and if it ain’t here, it’s nowhere.”

“That don’t make sense either.”

“Don’t irrigate me, Babe,” Bill scoffed, and shoved the rest of his sandwich into his mouth.

But, like most of the half-sensical thing Bill says, Babe took it as gospel. For better or worse… ear is war. There’s no luck to it — only what happens to you, and what happens to the guy standing next to you.

Maybe if he paid more attention to things like superstition and general company gossip, he’d have caught on a bit sooner.

“It’s just strange, is all,” Hashey declares. “We get invited places too.” 

After all, it wasn’t like their generation were green replacements anymore; they’d jumped into Holland, and suffered the rains of Market Garden like everybody else. Now, the Toccoa boys reached outside their circle for extra hands in games of craps and darts, and never looked sideways when older replacements joined their drinking games. They didn’t mind having Hashey or Garcia in their party… but, for some reason, the offer was always extended to Babe, and they always insisted he accept.

Which would be fine, if it were just one of two nights — but they’re going on their second week in Mourmelon now, and Babe’s been dragged out every single night.

He’s got to sleep… ideally, sleep off this constant hangover, from night after night of drinking. Just a few hours of downtime, that’s all he’s asking here. Is it really so much?

For the fellas, yes, apparently. “I tried to tell ‘em no,” he protests, looking helplessly between his two fellow former replacements. “But they wouldn’t take that for an answer. You ever gone up against Luz and Toye when they’re set on something? It ain’t pretty.”

“Why don’t they make such a big deal about us going out?”

The opportunity is there. It's too easy for Babe to summon a grin. “Maybe they don’t like yous as much as me, huh? I’m a popular guy.”

“Sure.” Garcia huffs a laugh. “That’s what it is.”

Babe pauses just to blink at him, thoroughly offended.

“Jeez, Tony, tell me how you really feel.”

“We only mean,” Hashey interjects, drowning out Garcia’s very vocal eye roll, “it’s obvious why they want you there. Think about it, Babe. Any time someone’s going up for a round of darts —“

“Lieutenant Compton started it,” Garcia declares. “Back in Aldbourne. He set the example.”

Buck Compton is a hulking quarterback with a booming voice, bigger than most guys in personality alone; he’s good at setting examples. Maybe Babe modeled his dart throwing technique after Buck, but he really didn’t pick up on anything else. As his eyes narrow, he plants his hands on his hips — an eerie imitation of his Ma — and peers at his friends. “So what are you boys implying?”

Hashey and Garcia exchange glances, almost guilty, before they look back up at him again. “They don’t want you as a drinking buddy, Babe,” Hashey finally says. “You’re their rabbit’s foot.”

And that’s the point Babe Heffron’s social life takes a turn for the bizarre and slightly unsettling.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The thing is, once he’s noticed it, there’s no unnoticing it. Everything that seemed so innocuous before has taken on a darker meaning. Now, when Luz claps him on the shoulder before starting a game of craps, or when Hoobler ruffles his hair just before going in on a bet, it doesn’t feel so friendly. Whenever he’s dragged into a game of darts or pool — inevitably to get trounced himself, but see the fella who convinced him to join come out winning — he catches the looks they shoot him, like he’s just handed them some sorta prize. 

He doesn’t like it. It leaves him feeling used, dammit.

When Perconte solicits his opinion on some bet, Babe shoots out the first answer he thinks of. A part of him probably tries to get it wrong, just to spite them all.

Perconte wins three-hundred bucks.

The worst part is, it’s clearly been knowledge to everyone but him this entire time. When Julian — Julian, outta everybody! — pats his back before stepping up to the dartboard, Babe glares daggers at him.

“You kidding me? You’re in this too?”

“It’s science, Heffron,” the kid just shrugs. “Maybe you don’t mean to do it, but whatever you’re doing, it’s working. People keep winning.”

“I’m not doing a—“ Babe’s exclamation cuts off when Julian throws the dart. A goddamn bullseye, on his first try.

Babe’s so agitated that when it’s his turn to throw, the dart buries itself into the wall. He doesn’t even hit the target.

Somewhere beyond the grave, Nanny Heffron’s gotta be just cackling.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Babe’s newfound revelation lets him beg a few excuses for nights he just doesn’t want to go out. Nine times out of ten, though, he gets dragged into something anyways, be it a craps game in the barracks or a lottery in the mess hall. Even Babe’s solitude isn’t really that, because fellas still come up to him whenever they apparently feel like it — clapping his shoulder with a “Hey, Heffron,” or “How’s it going, Babe?” before bee lining straight to their game. There’s no peace. There’s no sanity. The non-coms are in on it, the Toccoa men, the replacements… he’s just about ready to decide that nothing can surprise him when Harry Welsh comes up behind him in the pub and ruffles his hair out of nowhere.

Babe yelps, doubling over his mug of beer. When he reels around, he couldn’t be more affronted if he tried. “You too, Lieutenant?”

Harry just shrugs, flashing a gap-toothed grin. “Don’t take it personal, Heffron. Daddy needs a shinier pair of boots.”

“It’s all malarkey, you know. Like — actual malarkey,” he can’t help shouting after Harry as he heads across the room towards a game of poker. “Ain’t no such thing as luck!”

Without looking back, Harry laughs. “If you really think that, you don’t deserve to call yourself Irish.”

“Y’know, the luck of the Irish has historically been fuckin’ terrible!”

At this point, Babe’s really just shouting across the pub, and no one cares. Absolutely no-freakin’-one.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry makes his way back across the room, struggling to tuck a massive wad of cash into his pants pocket. “The luck of the Heffron has historically been absolutely incredible,” he declares, and ruffles Babe’s hair once more for good luck. “Thanks, Private.”

Babe drains his beer and orders another.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bill comes back in the second week of December, when Easy has already made themselves very comfortable in their rest period. Babe greets his friend with enthusiasm, smacking Bill on the back hard enough to rattle him. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes!” he crows, and means it — because Bill Guarnere don’t take any guff. If anyone’s gonna put an end to this whole “Lucky Babe” nonsense, it’s him.

The last thing Babe expects is for Bill to become the worst of them all.

“Come on, kid! Just one smooch, that’s all it’ll take.”

As Bill rattles the dice insistently in his face, Babe twists away. Biting him is too tempting, but if anyone would bite back, it’d be Wild Bill. Babe’s not taking any chances with that jaw of his. “Get the hell outta here,” he snaps instead, shoving at his best friend’s chest. “What do I look like to you, a goddamn horseshoe?”

“I’ve seen horseshoes prettier than you. Now, c’mon.” Ever persistent, Bill rounds to Babe’s other side, still shaking the dice. “Make like they’re Darlin’ Doris’s dumplings and pucker up!”

“I’m a gentleman on the first date,” Babe insists, glaring.

Bill makes a noise somewhere between a snarl and choking on his own spit. He rolls his eyes skyward… and, just because Babe’s the best damn friend any fool’s ever had, he gives the dice a reluctant blow. “There. Now get lost, will ya?”

Hooting, Bill races off to join the game. He leaves it a hundred dollars richer.

“Knew we keep you around for a reason, kid!” he crows afterwards, waving his money around the bar like he’s showing off his own child. It's around this time Babe goes from considerably annoyed to genuinely offended.

It’s not quite the idea that his friends don’t actually like him — because of course they like him, he’s a goddamn delight — but that they’re willing to use that liking to their advantage. Babe’s a buddy, and buddies shouldn’t be props; he’s not some lucky trinket you tuck into your pocket before a night out, he’s a human being. A sensitive soul! If they’re gonna use him as a prop, they may as well just tell him.

“So we know Heffron ain’t gonna win anything tonight, but he’s out to make all of us a lot richer,” Liebgott declares, clapping Babe on the back as they sit in a circle for a game of craps.

“I hope you shit bricks for a week,” Babe, the sensitive soul, declares.

It’s not like he’s their only option. Malarkey’s ginger, he’s Irish, and he loves to gamble! What’s more, he survived D-Day on top of Market Garden, and hasn’t been injured yet, so his luck is clearly going just fine for him.

When he points this out, Malarkey spits out his own drink, and Muck nearly falls off his chair laughing. “Someone’s never been gambling with Malarkey!”

“He loses money faster than they can print it,” Penkala chimes, swatting away Don’s retaliatory grab for his sandwich. “Complete opposite effect. Games break up when they see him coming.”

“People take their money and run!” Muck snickers.

Malarkey, flared up like an indignant pigeon, has to chime in. “Yeah, cause they know I’m gonna take it from them!”

It’s scary how quickly Muck sobers, turning on a dime; the smile melts from his face as he sits straight up, laughter dying off into eerie stillness. “Malark,” he says, staring his friend dead in the eyes. “You owe me over three hundred dollars.”

Penkala’s eyes bulge. Babe takes a large step back, suddenly terrified for the safety of his own wallet.

“That’s not — hey, come on! If Babe would just blow on my cards a little, or something — Babe! Hey, Babe, are you playing cards tonight? Where are you going?”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The last person he expects to be pouring his heart out to, somewhere around midnight, after an evening of questionable French beer and avoiding his friends’ efforts to leech off his karma, is Doc Roe.

The Doc makes a habit of not fraternizing with any of the men, which Babe can almost understand… but even saints have gotta drink sometimes, and tonight happens to be Roe’s night. He’s probably have gladly passed the evening alone, sitting in the back of the bar with a book open in front of him, if Babe hadn’t retreated to the shadows to hide from Bill’s dice.

“It just ain’t fair!” he declares, swirling the amber liquid in his half-empty glass. Fifth? Sixth? Who knows anymore? “‘Parently I’m a lightning rod of luck for everybody else. Everybody else… and I don’t even get any of it myself? Not a lick.” His mug clatters back down on the table, as Babe tilts his head back to glare at the pub’s wooden ceiling. “Somebody’s playing games up there, and I don’t appreciate it.”

Roe would be completely justified not engaging with this conversation at all. For some reason, he humors Babe. “Look at it this way, Heffron,” he says slowly, dragging each word out in that honey-sweet drawl ‘til Babe wishes he could drink that up too. “You ever been hit?”

Babe snorts. “No, Doc. I think I’d remember.”

“So would I.” Roe arches an eyebrow. He almost looks amused. “You ever been blown up?”

Babe double-checks to see if his arms and legs are intact. “Hmm. Not that I know of.”

“A lot of guys can’t say the same. Seems like your luck is working just fine.”

“But —“ He fumbles for words, startled. Now Roe is smirking, a quiet, half-shadowed thing. For some reason, it leaves Babe feeling dumb. Which could be all the drink, sure, but he’s no lightweight, and liquor’s never made him feel like this. Nothing about Roe’s smile is mocking, yet Babe somehow feels like the butt of the joke anyways. Dissatisfied, he finally slumps forward, leaning over the tabletop with a sigh. “It ain’t the same.”

Roe considers this for a long moment. His white fingers play over the pages of his book, contemplating turning it, but he ultimately just ends up leaving creases in the white canvas. When Roe leans forward too — until his chest is pressed against the tabletop, leaving them nearly nose-to-nose — it takes Babe aback.

“Remember when you fell through that stair rail in Neunen and nearly split your head open like a melon?” Roe asks, eyes black and serene.

“But I didn’t!” Babe exclaims, eager to defend his honor. It’d hurt a lot, sure, but he’s made it through worse accidents unscathed. Broken a lot of things, sure, but never himself.

Roe’s lips twitch up in a smirk. He drums his fingers on the tabletop, so close that Babe can hear them, can see every individual impact register in the Doc’s shoulder. When Gene Roe smiles, he looks younger, lighter.

“Your luck’s working just the way it should be, Heffron.”

Babe’s family has another popular saying — “knock on wood”, when someone says something a bit too good to be true. It’s no rabbit’s foot, maybe… but as a kid, Babe took the saying literally, and got bloody knuckles for his trouble.

For the first time, though… he feels like he’s actually won something. Doc Roe’s little smile is all for him, and Babe doesn’t have to share it with anyone at all.

“Hey, Doc,” he says after a moment, voice deceptively light. “You up for a game of darts?”

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Big Sister Part 1

Summary: Jo goes on a hunt with (Y/n), Dean, and Sam after her mother told her not to. (Y/n) had worked it out with Ellen and had almost negotiated taking Jo hunting with her. Jo’s stunt blows that out of the water but (Y/n) still has hope.

TW/CW: Lots of swearing, heavy arguing, Jo Harvelle x platonic!reader, Dean Winchester x Reader, angst, ghost stuff, yeah

A/N: I may only make this a two-part thing. I haven’t worked out the details yet. I hope you all enjoy it! Requests and Asks are open as always!

Your POV

    As Sam, Dean, and I go to get in the car to leave for L.A., we hear yelling from inside the bar. “I’ll take care of it,” I tell them. They follow anyway as I head inside to see what Ellen and Jo are arguing about this time. As I enter, I find Ellen and Jo arguing that Jo can’t go hunting. I place a hand on Jo’s shoulder just as she is about to say something, “Jo, stop. Listen to your mother.”

    “And that’s another thing!” JO lashes out, “How come (Y/n) gets to go hunting but I can’t?”

    “Because she’s more experienced than you, Jo! She knows how to work the job,” Ellen yells back.

    “How do you think she got that way? I can’t get experienced if I never go!” Jo is fuming at this point.

    I stop her as she tries to punch a pillar, “Jo, what d’ya got?” I shoot Ellen a look that says let me talk her down and she returns to the counter to cool off.  

    She hands me a file as Dean and Sam walk up behind me. I read through, as does Dean over my shoulder. An apartment building in Philidelphia, Pennsylvania has a handful of missing girls who all have the same appearance. I look to Dean and Sam, “You guys go on to L.A. I’ll handle this case.”

    Jo looks hopeful, but Dean insists on going with me. Ellen will never let Jo go if Dean and Sam are there. I decide to try anyway, “Hold on a sec,” I say as I hand Jo her file back. I make my way over to Ellen. She shoots me a threatening look but I ask anyway, “Why don’t you let her check this one out with us? You know I’ll keep her safe.”

    Ellen answers quietly so that the other three don’t hear, “I’m not ready to trust those boys yet, even if you are there.”

    I sigh, knowing Ellen won’t back down from this one, “Jo, you’re sitting this one out, maybe you can come next time. We’ll take care of this case.”     Jo doesn’t even answer and storms out instead. I look to Dean and Sam and head out the door. The three of us pile into the impala and I know in my gut that Jo won’t back down from this.

    Once we get to Philly, our first stop is to check out the apartment. As we scan the rooms with emf readers, Dean speaks up, “So, what was all of that about with Ellen and Jo?”

    Keeping my back turned to him, I answer, “Nothing, Ellen just doesn’t want her hunting yet.”

    Before Dean can pry further, Sam yells from the other room, “Guys, come look at this.”

    We join him to find something goopy seeping from the wall around the power socket. Dean sticks a finger in it before bringing it to his nose to smell, “So, we’re dealing with the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man? It’s ectoplasm.”

    As we leave the apartment, we hear voices down the hall and hide in an alcove. As the voices get closer, I can recognize the female as Jo. We step out into sight; Jo is telling the man that she is really interested in the apartment. Upon seeing us she walks right up to Dean, “Hey, Deano. Have you checked out the apartment yet?”

    Hearing Dean’s yes causes the apartment manager to ask who he is and how he got in. Dean quickly responds that it was open before Jo changes the subject, “Sorry, this is my boyfriend Dean and his buddy Sam and my sister (Y/n) but yeah, we’ll take it,” and hands the manager a wad of cash.

    As we enter the apartment, I shoot Jo my strongest death glare, “What the hell are you doing here, Jo? I told you to sit this out.”

    “I told mom that I’m going to Vegas. You guys need bait,” she responds simply, not making eye contact.

    I grab her arm and spin her to look at me, “I was so close to getting your mother to let me take you hunting and you just blew that out of the water, because as soon as she figures out where you went she’ll never trust me again.”

    “She won’t find out. I had Ash create a paper trail that puts me in Vegas,” she spits back.

    Just then my phone begins ringing and it shows Ellen’s contact. I answer, “Hey, Ellen.” Jo gives me a look and mouths, “Do not tell her.” I look to Dean and his face confirms my expectation. We can’t take her back now. She has to stay until we’re done. As Ellen finishes her spill on the other end of the line, I answer, “Nah Ellen, I haven’t seen her, but I’ll be sure to keep an eye out. -- Yes, I’m sure. -- Alright bye.”

    I turn on Jo, “You better have found something pretty damn good or I’ll walk your ass back to Nebraska myself.”

    She lays out all her papers for the three of us to see. Eventually, we get to the point that we realize who and what we’re dealing with and we separate to go into the walls. Jo’s bright idea puts me with Sam and her with Dean and neither of the guys argues with her because they’re just ready to finish the case.

    As we meet back in the apartment after Dean’s urgent call, I notice we’re missing a certain blonde. I look at Dean with a death glare, “What the hell happened?”

    “I couldn’t fit. So, she went on ahead before I could stop her... He got her. (Y/n), I’m so sorry,” he answers timidly.

    Before I can tear him a new one, my phone rings again. I hit the green answer button and before I can even get a breath out, she’s yelling. Once she pauses for breath, I jump in, “Ellen, I’m sorry. I’ll have her back as soon as possible but we can’t leave right now. We just got a lead and if we stop now, we may never catch this thing.” I listen to her berate me on the other end before responding, “Ellen, you know she’s like my little sister. I’ll keep her safe.” She says something along the lines of, “Damn right you will,” before hanging up.

    Without even thinking or hesitating, I throw a punch into the wall. Thankfully it was drywall and not the brick.

    “Woah, easy tiger. We’ll get her back,” Dean states.

    “That’s not what I’m worried about. If I can’t get Ellen to trust me enough to take her hunting then she’ll go on her own, and if she’s alone then she won’t have backup and something could happen.

    Dean inspects my bloody knuckles before pulling me into a hug, “We’ll get her back.”

    “Guys, I think I know where he’s keeping them,” Sam says before pointing to a sewer system under the building, “It’s no longer in use.”

    Sam takes one look at the map before we rush off to find the entrance. After some metal detecting and some crawling through pipes, we find the girls. We lay a trap and manage to trap the spirit in a salt ring. As we stand at the entrance of the sewer, Jo asks, “What happens if the salt gets messed up?”

    Sam points to a cement truck backing onto the lot, “That’s what that is for.” Dean gets out of the truck and the two men drop the spout and pour cement into the hole.

    The car is filled with silence as we head back to the roadhouse. Upon our arrival, Ellen is waiting for us on the porch. As we get out of the car, Ellen speaks coldly, “I’d like to talk to my girls alone.”

    The guys don’t push their luck and stay back as Jo and I head into the bar. Once inside, Jo starts, “Mom, you can’t protect me forever. I was with (Y/n), you trust her with even your own life.”

    Ellen glares at me now, “You lied to me. You lied to me and because of it, my daughter could’ve been killed.” Knowing she isn’t finished; I hold my tongue and sure enough, she continues, “To make matters worse, you let those boys stay and help instead of just sending them off. You should be ashamed for hanging out with them, let alone being interested in one of them.”

    This is where I draw the line and I interrupt her, “You can’t blame them for what happened, Ellen! They weren’t there! They’re not like John!”

    Jo stops us both, “What the hell are you two talking about?” As Ellen tells Jo what happened to get William killed, I grit my teeth. The nerve of this woman to think Dean and Sam are like their father.

    Ellen and Jo turn to me before Jo storms out the door. I don’t even bother with Ellen and instead go after Jo, hoping that she’ll have more sense.

    As I follow after her, I yell, “Damnit, Jo. Slow down.”

   She whips around to face me and before I can even register that we shouldn’t have this conversation in earshot of Dean and Sam as we are, she begins her rant, “How the hell can you trust them and still know that!? You’re a disgrace and I wish I had never trusted you!”

   Not able to withhold my rage any longer, I shove her and then get up close in her face, “Don’t you dare say that to me. I was so close to being able to take you hunting like you wanted. I have busted my ass and negotiated to hell and back for you and you just threw it away. Jo, if it weren’t for me, you’d still be in that bar, sitting on your ass, and doing nothing but hustling. If it weren’t for me, your mother would’ve never let you near Ash’s research. They--,” I point back towards the guys, “-- don’t deserve this bullshit you and your mother are giving them. They don’t even know about it! As for that little stunt you pulled back at the apartment, back off from Dean because you know he’s always been mine. Now you get your ass back in there and apologize to your mother and grovel like you’ve never groveled before because, in a few days, I’ll be back to see if I can smooth things over with your mother.”

    She stands still, staring at me in shock as she timidly speaks up, “(Y/n), I --”

    I interrupt her, “Go!” I turn to punch whatever is closest, which just so happens to be the impala.  

    Dean steps in front of me and catches my hand, “Not the car, Sweetheart. Punch me if you need to punch something.” I simply lean into him as he wraps his arm around me and holds me tight. Once I pull away, he brushes the hair out of my eyes, “What was that about, ‘he’s mine’?”

    My eyes go wide as the realization hits, “Dean, I --”  

    He interrupts me with a kiss before answering, “I guess that makes you mine, Baby.”  

    Surprise washes over my features as I stumble out a response, “Wait, really?”

    He nods his head but Sam has a more pressing question, “What do we not know about, (Y/n)?”

    I take a deep breath before explaining, “William wasn’t alone on his last hunt. Your dad was with him and he screwed up. His mistake got William killed. That’s why Ellen doesn’t trust you guys. Jo just found out.”

    Dean looks at me, concern written over his features, “Do you need to stay?”

    I shake my head, “No, let them cool off. Besides, we still have that case in L.A.”

    He nods as well as climb into the car. I take one last look out the window at the roadhouse before I doze off for the night.

Masterlists

[thegizka]

What’s In A Name?

New to the superhero business, the Shazam family has a lot to learn if they're going to make this vigilante stuff work. Step 1: Figure out secret identities and hero names.

Written for Writer's Month 2019 Day 6: Kids.

Note: I do not own these characters.

Read it on Ao3.

“Okay,” Freddy began, turning to face his siblings after checking the security of the bedroom door.  “If we want to do this superhero thing right, we have to establish some ground rules.  I hope you brought paper to take notes because there will be a quiz at the end of this.”

“Wait, seriously?”  Eugene’s eyes were panicked as he glanced up from his computer screen.

“Of course not.”  Billy rolled his eyes.

“Besides, if you did write anything down, we’d have to burn it afterwards so no supervillains could trace it back to our secret identities.”  Freddy smiled sarcastically.  He was really laying on the dry humor, a sure sign that he was nervous.  He was the closest thing to a superhero expert they had, even though he’d only been in direct contact with the superhero world for a few weeks.  It wasn’t like there was any pressure to keep his family safe or anything.

“That’s a good place to start,” Billy jumped in.  As the only other family member with marginally more exposure to superheroing, he was also partially responsible for the success of this meeting.  “Let’s talk secret identities.”

“The number one superheroing rule,” Freddy announced, “is never tell anyone your secret identity.”  He looked pointedly at Darla.

“But what if it’s someone who can help you, like a teacher or a police officer?” she asked innocently.  “Rosa says we’re not supposed to lie.”

“Leaving out your name isn’t lying,” Mary reassured her.

“But you can’t make friends unless you tell people your name.”

“Well you’ll have a superhero name.  You can use that.”

“Do I get to pick my own name?” she asked, an eager shine in her eyes.

Billy found everyone looking at him.

“Uh, I think so?”

“Great!  I’m going to be Princess Purple Sparkle Rainbow.”  Darla beamed.

“How can you be both purple and rainbow?” Eugene asked.

“Anything is possible through positive thinking and imagination.”

Someday they’d have to collect Darla Wisdom and sell it as a book.  They’d make a fortune.

“That name is too long.  No one will be able to remember it, not even you,” Freddy declared.  Mary shot him a warning look.

“I will,” their youngest sister declared confidently, “and all of my new friends will, too.”

“Pedro,” Billy said, eager to avoid the potential of an argument, or worse--Darla being sad.  “What’s your name going to be?”

The quietest member of the family just shrugged.

“The Jolly Green Giant,” Eugene suggested while he tapped away at his keyboard.

“That’s the veggie man.”  Freddy dismissed it with a nearly offended frown.

“The Shield?” Billy offered.

“I think that one’s already taken.”

“Wait,” Mary commanded, and instinctively they all followed the eldest’s lead.  “Should we work with a theme? ��We are a team, after all.”

“The Justice League doesn’t have a theme,” Freddy pointed out, “or the Teen Titans, the Justice Society, the Doom Patrol, the-”

“Okay, okay,” Mary conceded even though half of those teams sounded made up to her.

“But those teams aren’t family,” Darla said softly.

“She’s right,” Pedro agreed in his quiet, honest manner.

They digested these truths in silence for a while.

“What about something Greek?” Mary suggested.  “Our powers come from Greek legend.”

“Mercury is technically Roman,” Eugene clarified.

“Solomon’s from the Bible, isn’t he?” Billy added.

“Besides,” Freddy continued, “a theme based on the source of our power could give supervillains a clue about how to defeat us.”

“Well how do other heroes come up with their names?” Mary asked.

“I don’t know.  My knowledge of superheroes starts after they’ve already come up with their costume and name.  And even if I had tried to figure out some of their secret identities like a total nerd, there’s no way for me to verify whether I’m right and ask them.  I mean, it’s not like I have a way in to superhero society, such as, I don’t know, a brother who knows Superman or something.”  He looked pointedly at Billy.

“Dude, just transform and introduce yourself next time you fly to Metropolis.”

“How can I introduce myself when I don’t have a superhero name?”

“Yeah, are we going to figure that out right now or not?” Eugene demanded.  “Because there’s a Twitch stream going live in twenty minutes that I don’t want to miss.”

“Well Billy already has a name,” Pedro observed.

“Right!”  Darla beamed.  “Because when he said ‘Say my name’ we said Shaz-”

“Shh!” everyone hissed.  Mary covered her sister’s mouth before she could finish the word.

“Not inside, remember?  We don’t want to blow the roof off.”

“Sorry,” she sighed.  “I got too excited.”

“It’s okay,” Mary reassured her.  “We just have to be careful.”

“It’s a bit dumb not being able to say your name,” Freddy mused.

“Hey, I didn’t choose to make it like that.”

“Yeah I know.  That’s why we should come up with an alternative name so we can actually communicate on the job and stuff.  Ooh, wait a second!” Freddy cried, face lighting up with that look he always got when he discovered a new and interesting fact.  “I think I have an idea…”

-----

That night they tried out the new nicknames.  While Rosa and Viktor were enjoying a rare night out, they hit the streets to stop what crime they could.  Of course, whenever it was easy to sneak away and do superhero stuff, there was never anything notable to do.  They helped stop a car chase after the first few blocks, cleaned up a park, and adjusted one family’s TV antenna so they could watch Phillies games in perfect clarity.

“We’d better head back soon,” Maelstrom suggested, trying to check the time on the watch she habitually wore, but it had disappeared when she’d transformed.

“Can we get ice cream on the way back?” Lightning asked with hope in her eyes.

“Not if we didn’t bring money with us.”

“We don’t need money.”  Vortex shrugged.  “Bil- Uh, Storm and I discovered during his early days that when you ask nicely, people are willing to give superheroes all sorts of things for free.”

“That sounds like stealing.”  Tornado frowned.

“It’s not if they willingly give it to you,” Storm argued.

“If I asked Tech Stop for a new PS4, do you think they’d give one to me?” Thunder wondered.

“We are not using our new roles to ask for free stuff!” Maelstrom said firmly.  “Our main purpose is to protect and help people, not abuse their trust in us.  Besides, how would you explain a new PS4 to Rosa and Viktor?”

“Sh, no secret identity clues!” Vortex hissed.  Maelstrom just rolled her eyes.

“So we’re not stopping for ice cream?”  Lightning’s expression was dangerously close to a pout.

“I’ll buy you ice cream,” Storm promised.  “I brought some allowance along just in case we’d need it.”

“Thank you big brother!”  She zoomed over to him and gave him a big hug.

“Lightning, we agreed to use hero names only,” Vortex sighed.  “We can’t give hints of our secret identities!”

“You sound paranoid,” Thunder warned.

“It’s the number one rule!”

“I can’t remember everyone’s names yet,” Lightning admitted.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you memorize them,” Maelstrom promised.

“If we want to grab ice cream, we should go now,” Tornado quietly reminded them.

“We’d better hurry!” Lightning cried, ready to save time by flying there directly.

“Hang on, I have to get my money out.  SHAZAM!”

In a flash of lightning, Billy replaced Shazam Storm.  He dug into his pants pockets, eventually passing a wad of crumpled bills to Maelstrom.  With another shout and another flash, he was once again a superhero.

“Okay, let’s go.”

“Maybe I’ll get butterscotch, or chocolate chip, or birthday cake!  There are so many yummy flavors, I don’t know how I’ll decide!”

Lightning continued chattering on the way to the ice cream shop.  The late-night workers looked a bit shell-shocked when six large and brightly dressed heroes stepped into the shop talking and teasing each other like children.  Maelstrom tried to keep them on task, but Lightning kept changing her order, Vortex was shooting irrelevant questions at the overwhelmed workers, and Storm was nervously calculating whether they’d have enough to pay.  Twenty minutes (and a few photos) later, they poured back out onto the street, sweet treats in hand.

“Home?” Tornado suggested.

“Race you!” Thunder dared, already taking off.  The others released surprised shouts and followed.  Lightning, normally the fastest of them, trailed a step behind.

“Hang on!” she cried around her spoon.  “I don’t want to drop my ice cream!”

x

I tried finding comics-based names for the Shazam family, but only Billy, Mary, and Freddy have been around long enough to have options. Wikipedia mentioned Shazam Thunder, Shazam Lighning and Shazam Strong for Eugene, Darla, and Pedro respectively, though I'm not sure where those came from. I liked Shazam Thunder and Shazam Lightning, and since their symbol is the giant light-up lightning bolt on their chests, I decided to go with storm-based hero names for the squad.

[cum-ham-blog]

I wrote a fanfiction about Mac Finds His Pride?

“You know what? How about you go and get your mother and I some beers.” Luther says, fishing a wad of cash out of his pocket and shoving it into his son's hands, his intense gaze never straying from the television.

"Yeah, dad! Of course! Do you need anything else? What about you, mom?”

Mrs. Mac blows out a billow of smoke from where she's lounging on the ratty, broken recliner across the room, her attention also fixed on the television.

“Get me another pack of smokes.” She says, hacking a loogie into an empty beer can on the floor.

"Alright, I'll be right back!” Ronnie shouts over his shoulder as he hurriedly shoves his feet into his disgusting sneakers. “Love you guys!”

"Yeah,” Luther drawls, eyes still fixed resolutely in front of him. “and don't you dare tip that fucking faggot again. I'll be counting the change when you get back.”

The word ‘faggot’ sends chills up Ronnie's spine, makes his stomach clench uncomfortably. It makes him feel strangely called out, but he doesn't really understand what for.

Everyone knows you're supposed to give a little extra money to the Wawa guy! The Wawa guy had to be, like, one of the coolest people in all of Philly! He never made a fuss about IDs like all the other cashiers, and he even gave him free candy sometimes!

“Okay, dad. Won't happen again!”

Luther grunts.

--

“Micky! That's your name, right? I'm so, so sorry for everything I said! Oh god, do you want me to give you some money? Please, just stop crying!”

“W-what? Frank, did you really forget my name again-”

“That's not the point, Micky! Do you remember when we all went to the arbiter over that scratch card? And you came out as a queer?” Frank paused, removing his glasses to wipe at the moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes, “I'll admit it, I thought that you'd turned into some sort of sick, disgusting pervert! I thought that now you're a fairy and everything, you'd wanna blow your load up my butt and make me your butt slave, but-”

"F-frank,” Mac sobbed, still unable to control the tremors wracking through his body. Martina had left just a few minutes ago to go and find him some tissues. ”Seriously? I-I'm not going to sit here and let you make fun of me tonight. I c-can't do this right-”

Suddenly, he was enveloped into a warm hug by a stumpy pair of troll arms.

“I didn't realize calling you a ‘faggot’ meant all that stuff about burning you at the stake! I think you're just dandy, Mickey! I don't even have that much of a problem with all the butt stuff-I mean, if all you needed was for me to stick my magnum dong up your butt, Mickey, all you had to do was ask!”

That was the moment a worried Martina returned with a gigantic wad of toilet paper and some bottles of water clutched in her arms.

"Hey, I'm sorry I took so long! Look, I got you some-Mac? Oh, this must be Dennis! The guy you've been telling me about?”

Mac promptly vomited all over the prison floors.

--

I don't know what the fuck this even is. I've never written a single piece of fiction before in my life? But I was so moved by Mac Finds His Pride that I was actually compelled to write my first ever fanfiction about it. I'm gonna go get high now.

[atypical60]

Far be it to not take advantage of Oona’s pre-wedding events to not make it about me. OK?

Remember.  It’s all about MOI!!!!

Anyway, last weekend I flew to Cincinnati for Oona’s Bridal Shower.  You saw a sneak peak at my last blog post but I’m gonna elaborate more on the weekend.

And boy was this a fantastic Bridal Brunch!!

As the Mother-of-the-Bride naturally.

Number 4 is the only one Oona has stressed.  I did that at her shower when we all introduced ourselves.  My sense of humor got the best of me as I introduced myself as “…..as Oona exited my Origin of the World…”  immediately, I was pulled aside and warned in a kind way to NOT say anything like that at the wedding.  (shhhh–don’t tell but I don’t follow rules!)

I took Friday off from work because I wanted a true three-day weekend.  That’s the thing about working in a low-level clerical position—you need permission to get a day off.  In my other places of employment, it was much easier to finagle time off as a freebie—trust me.   I also worked my schedule out to accommodate leaving early on Thursday afternoon so I could fly from Philly to Cincy and enjoy a few extra hours of fun time.

I also took Friday casual to Thursday!  I travel in comfort, but not like a slob! J. Crew and Gabor wigs assisted me!  Mother-of-the Bride travel attire!

It’s not how it started out though.

For some reason, either I hit horrific weather or I have a displeasure of a delayed flight whenever I travel.  I kid you not.  And about 45 minutes before we were to board the plane, an announcement was made that the flight to Cincinnati would be delayed.

Welcome to my jet-sit world.  I spend more time waiting than flying!  I have to say though, that Delta made every effort and boarded us very quickly when the plane arrived!

Besides having an inner hissy-fit, I dealt with this issue by stress eating not one pretzel, but an additional bucket of pretzel nuggets.  Fresh and hot off the press.  The carbs were murder on my gut but felt so good going down.  I also ate a giant bag of peanut M & M’s.  And read trashy magazines.

And an added surprise was that these nuggets of carbs were also drenched in greasy melted butter.  I wonder why the scale isn’t giving me nicer numbers!!

The plane finally arrived and this Mother-of-the-Bride landed after ten in the evening to rain!  I was two for two.  A delay and rain.  It was shocking that a snow storm hadn’t hit!

Cincinnati here I come…

To rain and a delayed flight….

Now…upon departing the flight, one would think I ran to the airport exit to see Oona and Sam.  No.  CVG is a GREAT airport.  It’s so clean and spacious so I couldn’t resist dawdling (now we know where my son, Roman, acquired the gift of dawdle…).  I came across a cosmetics vending machine!  But I didn’t buy anything!

Why couldn’t I find this at Philly airport during the delay?

Then I came across my favorite part of the airport!  Them bones!

Some stop to smell the roses.  I stop to take photos at airports of skeletal treasure!

But it was great to be back at Oona and Sam’s and playing around with my grand puppy, Gracie.

My boo, Gracie.  OMG. She’s so well-behaved..

Oona and Sam are such great doggie parents…I KNOW they will be fantastic human parents!

Friday brought sun and clouds and brisk weather but it didn’t matter.  There’s something comforting in knowing that your daughter and her future husband can brew a great cuppa coffee.  They make it strong—just the way I love it.  And we sat around gabbing before getting ready and heading out to run errands.

The Mr. Coffee is far better than the grandpa Mr. Coffee we have at home.

Even little Gracie was beggin’ for some!

Ahhhhhhhhh…cawfee!!!

Oona had a nail appointment, and since my nails were looking fine, I passed but kept her company while we discussed family and the wedding preparations.

This freakin’ nail salon!  It went on for days!  I was jealous–but then Oona told me the price of a mani-pedi and I was glad to be living in the Northeast where nail salons are plentiful….and far less expensive!

Next stop was Marshalls –Oona picked some workout clothing (I didn’t –I’m lazy).  And I headed for the cosmetics.  Glory be to Gawd—I found two great eyeshadow palettes!

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More on these palettes for my next blog post but boy….at $7.99 each, these palettes were a steal!

We did some food shopping—Sam’s birthday was Friday and his family was coming over for dinner.  Oona looked pensive as she realized time was of the essence—she had to head back to the airport to pick up her best friend and maid-of-honor, Lauren.

Did I say food shopping? I sent this pic to Bonaparte to validate that Pennsylvania is the worst state in the USA because of the State-run, Mob-type Liquor stores!  You can by this at Trader Joes in Cincy!

And that’s where mom comes in—I assured her I could take care of the cake and she could head to the airport for alone time with her bestie!

BTW, this cake is gluten-free, chemical and preservative-free, sugar free, and lower-fat!  Oona added Sam’s favorite candy–Reeses Pieces which are NOT lower fat nor sugar free!  But it was a tasty Birthday cake!

Friday evening, Sam’s family came over for a birthday celebration. Being with Sam’s family is like being with……………. family!!  We all had a great time and I was introduced to a spectacular aperitif/cocktail:  The Aperol Spritz!  This concoction of Aperol, Prosecco, and Seltzer with a slice of orange is the most refreshing drink I’ve ever downed!

You read it first.  Moving forward, the Aperol Spritz will now be called “Mother-of-the-Bride”.   There will be an open bar at the wedding but I may smuggle my private makings!  There’s only 148 calories in one of these!

I drank a lot of them during the weekend.  In fact, as I write this now, I informed the Frenchman that I’ll be stopping at the store for Aperol, Prosecco and seltzer!  He is a bit upset that I am forgoing the beloved Kir Royal but the Aperol Spritz has less calories and with the wedding countdown, every calorie counts!

Saturday was a full day!

Let me tell you something.  Oona and Lauren spent a long time getting their hair perfectly coifed.  Lauren is great with styling and she styled Oona’s hair in perfect beach waves.

I plopped my Jamison wig on—and had extra time to loll around in bed! Oh, the beauty of wigs!

Jamison and Lilly Pulitzer.  You can’t go wrong!

The shower/bruncheon was at LouVino, a Southern-inspired restaurant and wine bar downtown Cincinnati.  What a great place!  The celebration was downstairs in a private room and Oona’s friends, coworkers, future sisters-in-law, mother-in-law and relatives were in attendance.

The upstairs wine bar at LouVino’s. I’m recommending this place to out-of-town guests for Oona’s wedding!

The downstairs room where the brunch was held…

Thanks to Sam’s sisters, the table settings were beautiful..

  Mimosas kept us refreshed and hydrated!

Oh yeah, and water (in the background) also kept us hydrated.  The food was so great that I never took a pic–I was too busy shoveling the Warm Brussels Salad into my mouth!

We played girlie games.  I won Scattergories.  But the best game was where Oona had to guess answers to questions that Sam answered in advance.  For ever wrong answer, a wad of bubble gum was placed in Oona’s mouth!  It was a riot!

It was only natural that I took myself out of the “Guess the Age” game.  I’m no cheater!

Miss Oona getting ready for more bubble gum!  She actually did a great job.  Out of 30 questions, she got 2/3’s correct!

The prize for the Scattergories win..a cute mug and a Starbucks card!!!!!!!!!!! 

Some of the gifts.  Crate & Barrel is very popular–eh???

Happy little wine glasses…

Happy little Oona!

The baking girl was thrilled to receive mixing bowls.  Did I mention I gifted her with a Stainless Kitchen Aid Mixer…just like mine?  I swear the baking is genetic!

This.  This was on Oona’s wish list and she was so happy to receive this!  (Hmmmm maybe she’ll give me her Mr. Coffee machine…)

BFF’s.  They’ve been friends since middle-school.  Two beauties!

This photo of us was taken after I was crying…

..and this is why.  Lauren, Oona’s BFF and Maid of Honor, gifted Sam’s mom and me with embroidered hankies.  Both moms were crying because it was just a touching and generous gift!   I’m crying again!

I was very happy to be in attendance.  Oona didn’t want a shower in Philly simply because she felt that asking my side of the family and her Northeast friends, was asking them to spend too much money—what with the travel to Ohio and the hotel, she wanted to keep expenses down for everyone.  You know—I was very proud of her decision.  I think I raised a very conscientious young woman!

  And the fact Sam’s family has welcomed Oona really made me feel warm and fuzzy inside!

May I present the future Mrs. Butts.  Coming from a very competitive family, it pleases me to have my daughter’s future last name be greatness such as this.  When/if they have children and their children are in competitive activities, they can hashtag:  #MyButtsgonnakickyours  or… #Buttsbekickin’

Some after-brunch fun.  Isn’t that dress adorable?  It’s a Lilly Pulitzer..and those shoes!  The daughter has great taste..and she’s gorgeous!

By the time we got back to the house, the rain came and it was time to head to Sam’s mom’s home for a casual, laid back and fun dinner!

And more Aperol Spritzes!

The recipe?  Three parts Prosecco, Two parts Aperol, One part (a splash) Seltzer and an orange slice to make it nice!

Sunday morning brought forth a bit of a hangover and the flight back to Philly.  Isn’t it funny how when you wish for a delay, the flight is on time?

Gracie was sad to see me go.  I was sad to see me go!

  Minimal dawdling on the return.  There was no delay.  WAIT!  Does that say Air France?  Yeah…but it’s the plane back to Philly…

And despite the timeliness of the flight home, I did manage to get this sweatshirt as a reminder of a great weekend!

I arrived back home Sunday afternoon.  When Bonaparte picked me up, I’m not too sure he was happy to see me because he kept mentioning how tired I looked.  He was right. I had a bad hangover    FOODover, because of all the food I ate.

Yeah. I pretty-much crashed when I arrived home.  Funny how I still think I’m in my twenties sometimes!

Do you ever get sad when you leave someplace and someone?  I was incredibly sad to leave but after I arrived home and unpacked and got to telling the Frenchman about the weekend, the sadness lifted and I felt really happy.  Happy that I was able to enjoy the weekend with my daughter and her future family! And happy to be back sitting next to my husband on the sofa!

And she’s the reason the weekend was a stellar one!  My baby is getting married!

More Mother-of-the-Bride Fun! Far be it to not take advantage of Oona’s pre-wedding events to not make it about me.

[flower-phan]

All I’ve Got Are Bad Habits (Part Two)

Havent Read Part One?: http://flower-phan.tumblr.com/post/152831916762/all-ive-got-are-bad-habits-part-one “This room is dark as shit” Dan says loudly observing the dark room he was being led into by the older boy, their giggling playfully lighting up the room as they walked. “Shhhhhh” joked Phil pressing his fingers to his lips “This is where the junkies sleep”. Prompt: Phil unexpectedly makes his way into Dan's life again, after three whole years. In that time Dan has managed to get his act together for the most part and forget all about Phil, until he unexpectedly showed up at one of Dan's NA meetings, and wants back into his life again. And Most surprisingly of all, Dan says yes. ____________________________________________________________________ On the paper Phil examined what appeared to be Dans scribbled address, his stomach felt warm and his face couldn't shake that smile. Dan walked away in haste, feeling like he could hardly breathe. He was astonished on what he just did, All these years, Dan promised himself he’d never talk to Phil ever again,, he spent years hating Phil, wishing he never would have been born. And now, In a split second, he had welcomed him back in his life in the same moment Dan was trying to get him to leave it. He didn't know what to do, In a state of extreme panic, it took all Dan had to drive home safely. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other ones fingers between his teeth and lips, ripping off what little nail had grown back since the last time Dan had a nervous fit, He thought about what dinner he could make for Phil out of the little he had. Dan looked at the time. 6;30, he read in panic. He showered, he dressed, and cleaned. All memories of the bad Phil slipped his mind and he went to a happier place. (Flashback 2009) “I missed you bear” says Phil, smelling Dan and engulfing him in his arms in such a way that let Dan feel so fucking safe. “I missed you too Phil” Dan stays in Phil's arms, a little longer than usual, And Phil really doesn't mind one bit. Dan find immediate comfort in Phil's shallow erratic breaths, paying attention to the way he breaths. “coffee?” says Phil, kissing Dan on the forehead and reaching to hold his small cold hands. Dan nods following his boyfriend through the snowy London streets. As they walked, Dan watched Phil breath out into the atmosphere, wisps of white smoke spreading into the air and disappearing with every breath he took. The way Dans woolen gloves acted like a blanket to his long slender hands, and Phil's palms in his acted like a heater, warmed Dan's heart in such a way that he could feel the metaphorical frost on his heart slowly melting. And he couldn't help smiling at his boyfriend as they reached the warm yellow glow of the small café. “Grab a smoke before we go inside?” Questions Phil. Dan hesitates for a moment, rubbing his hands together and noticing his home growing coldness “sounds good” he says deciding it was worth the frostbite. Making their way to the side of the building and finding some cozy looking crates to sit on, Phil retrieved a nicely rolled joint from his coat pocket. Then, took his lighter to the end of it. He examined the joint and the way the smoke danced off of the tip, before taking a drag, and closing his eyes, resting his head against the brick wall of the building. “I love you Dan Howell” he says simply, kissing his boyfriend on the cheek. Taking the joint from Phil, and inhaling a few drags himself “I love you too”. “I swear” continues Phil, “I think you are the best thing to ever happen to me. I mean it”. Dan blushes, as much as he's grown, as much as he doesn't want to admit it, he will always be a complete sucker for Phil “where is this coming from all of a sudden Philly?” “I'm just happy” he says taking another drag, “completely and utterly content”. They finished up their smoke, and went into the warm shop, ordering two coffees and sitting in the corner away from the crowd. And they giggle about the world, with their heads in the clouds. “I liked muse before you were born son” says Phil in an extremely northern way, laughing a little bit in between. “Phil, you are literally only four years older then me” scoffs Dan playfully. “Whatever you say freshman” giggles Phil. “Oh shut up” says Dan finishing up the last sip of his coffee. Phil does the same thing, and stands up with the same exciting mysteriousness that he seems to convey every single time “Well if we don't leave now we're going to be late”. “Where are we going?” quizzed Dan. “To a party” says Phil, almost wiggling his eyebrows and then forming his arm in a triangular formation for Dan too cling on too “and I hope, of course you will be my date tonight?” Dan felt alive “of course, of course!”. It didn't take long for the boys to get to the flat in which the party was being held. In fact, they kept their car parked over near the coffee shop and walked over to the house since it was only a few blocks away. The outside was cold, but the earlier buzz managed to numb the frostbite a little bit. They hurried while a soft wind blew on their faces making their noses red. They laughed though the pain, walking under yellow glowing christmas lights that made everything so much more jolly. But the apartment showed much more spectacular atmosphere. All the holly-jolly Christmas vibes left as soon as they closed the door behind them. Only to reveal the dark lighted scene that awaited them, Dan was mesmerized. This wasn't like any of the parties that Phil had brought him too before. It was luxury. Dan gazed upon the room, where women looked like supermodels and the guys looked like actors. Champaign and ladies holding lit cigarettes. He couldn't believe his eyes “I feel a little bit underdressed” expresses Dan. “And yet you're the prettiest one here” he says in that swave calming way that makes Dan soothe “don't be nervous these are my friends, I have a bit of business to take care of”. He could only imagine what kind of mischief Phil was into now, but blindly followed his guidance anyway. It scared Dan sometimes how Phil would be so reckless, and yet it was the very thing that made him feel alive. And yet Dan couldn't help but feel like Phil is the only reason he wasn't a dweeb anymore. In fact, he probably felt that way because that was exactly the case. He knew it, and though it hurt him a little inside to know that Phil larger than him in so many ways, and he just couldn't manage to burn as bright. The boys walk through hallways of the house before approaching a closed door. Phil hesitates before opening the door, and takes a deep breath in before finally knocking on the wood. A man opens the door, and isn't as intimidating as Dan thought Phil was hyping him up too be, but Phil could make a mountain out if a mole hill any day “Hey Phil! Nice too see you again!” he says giving Phil a high five. “Nice too see you too PJ” says Phil obviously trying not to make small talk “I have what was discussed”. Dans eyes dart around the room, is Phil really making a fucking drug deal right now? “Ah yes, well, let's get to it then” he says, pulling out the most astonishing bag of white Dan had ever saw. Dan could easily jump to the conclusion that the big bag of white was Cocaine again, of course, Dan would be hypocritical to tell Phil it was a bad idea to be seen with that much substance. Dan however, was even more taken aback by the wad of cash that was pulled from Phil's back pocket and given to the other boy. “3,000, It's all there” Says Phil. “Seems like it” Says PJ, smiling and counting the money in his hands. “Well then its pleasure doing buisness with you, Lester” He smiles. Phil bends down on his knee and puts the giant block of drugs in his bag, Dan felt the adrenaline in his veins, and the slight anger at Phil for putting him in that awkward situation, and the sudden realisation that he was about to get fucked tonight. Even with that happy thought on his mind, he still made a solid effort to scold Phil for his reckless actions. “Phil, what the literal fuck” Says Dan as soon as they exit the room with very important it “You are literally carrying around 3,000 pounds worth of Cocaine”. Phil smiled his carefree cheeky smile, that in this moment, with blaring music, pimps, and junkies around, just made Dans blood a little hotter “Um, Dan, Number one this is crystal meth, and number two chill, We are going to bring it right back to the car” He got a little angrier at his boyfriend as they exited the apartment, his high has begin to fizz out, and it was just too fucking cold to be outside “Meth? What are you fucking Walter White? Phil, Fucking really”. “Yes” He says turning to look at Dan, “Now we will talk when we get in the car, can you please just shut up for a second until we get there? I love you please” He says kissing Dan's forehead. Dan didn't know, why all of a sudden Phil was getting this attitude on him. Phil protectively placed his hand around Dans waist, and walked with him to the Car, opening and closing the door behind him. Dan folded his arms and slumped down in the seat pouting his lips ever so slightly. “You're such a big baby��� Says Phil starting up the car, and blaring the heat “Is that warmer? You look cold”. “Don’t baby me, you big drug dealer bitch” Says Dan. “How do you know I’m dealing?” Asked Phil. “Well, are you dealing?” questioned Dan. “Technically” answered Phil Dan flew his head back against the passenger seat, with a long sigh he ran his hands through his hair “Is there anything I can do about it, get you too stop being stupid?”. Phil didn't seem to take any offence too Dan, handing him a cigarette and lighting the stick for him too “Well, I just bought 3,000 pounds worth of Crystal Meth, and if you're not going to do 3,000 pounds of Meth with me, I suppose not”. Dan thought about Meth, and how a drug like that compared to the ones he's already tried. And when Dan put too and two together in his head he realized that they don't compare. On the great big scale of things, Meth was a lot fucking worse than cocaine or weed was. He heard about being ruining their lives, Kids from school he used to go to school with have ruined their lives from trying it just a few times. It scared Dan knowing Phil was a carefree guy, selling hard drugs on the street. “Have you ever tried Meth, Phil?” Dan asks, he was scared to know the answer. Phil doesn't answer right away, not knowing really what to say “Two or three times”. Dan sighs “Is that what you are doing this shit for? We can pay for your drugs Phil, you don’t need to be a shithe-”. “No” Phil cuts of Dan abruptly “I've been doing this forever, even before I started doing the, Ive always sold”. “How long?” Asks Dan. “Since I was Fifteen” He says. Dan wasn't per say judging Phil, Dan knew, as much as he knew about Phil, he’d never know everything. Phils happiness covers up whatever bullshit that he's been through, his eagerness and don't-worry-about-it attitude, it goes away in moment when he opens himself up like this. Dan knows he shouldn't pry, but Phils like a story book he's so eager to read “Why?”. “To provide” He says. “For your family?” Dan Pokes. “My brother and myself” He says, not seeming too bothered by the subject “My mum and Dad, it's not that they didn't care about my brother and I. They loved us so much and tried really hard, but their addiction got the best of them”. Phil looked really sad in that moment, Dsn swers he seen a tear escaped his eye but he couldn't be so sure because whatever was on phil's cheek he wiped it away in an instant “But this is a good night, let's not ruin that. Shall we?” He says placing a fake smile on his face and turning the ignition key. But Dan couldn't let his boyfriend feel that way inside, and somehow Dan just knew. He reached for the key and turned it off. Phil looked at Dan, more tears starting to form at the corner of his eyes, his face booing broken, something other than happiness showing on his face for the first time since he met the boy. Dan opened his arms “Come here” He says, and Phil collides into him releasing a yelp of despair. “It's been a year, you think I’d be over it by now. But every holiday that passes, every moment, I hurt. Because I always knew they had this issue, that they loved to use. But they didn't go anywhere you know? They were just sick, and now they are gone and I am alone” Phil sputters, crying into Dan's shoulder. Phil picks up his head, eyes red from the tears, and Dan sees the heartbreak “Where are you staying?”. “In a motel” He says, his nose stuffed, wiping his face with his sleeve. Dan felt angry, that an angel, A boy who has clearly shown that even though being sad, that their was hope for happiness. The boy that had taught Dan what love is, and taught him to stop being a bummed out faggot, was hurting this much, because he wasn't loved, and felt alone “No, No, No, that won't do” Dan says getting out of the car. “Where are you going?!” Phil says almost frantically . “Give me the keys, I’m driving” Dan says opening up Phil's car door. “Where are we going?” Says Phil switching doors. “To my house” Says Dan kissing his boyfriend on the cheek, “We're Not spending Christmas in a motel, and you're not spending it alone, so you're coming to my house” “But you're parents, won't they know….” Trails off Phil. “I don’t care” Say says stubbornly shutting his boyfriend up “I love you, and fuck they are going to love you too”. The sediment of the situation made Phil smile thankfully into his shoulder, he didn't want to be a bother to Dan, but he knew dan wasn't going to take no for an answer anyway. Christmas made Phil feel like a child all over again, but then again, so did Dan. The boys continued in the car, and Phil lit up a joint like nothing even happened. Dan turned on his Dad’s,shitty car’s heat up high so that they boys could keep the cold out,Dan found an old christmas music station, and they smiled and sang at the top of their lungs like Phil did not have a shit load of meth in the back seat. The drive was long, an hour and a half to be accurate, But every moment the boys spent with each other was not a moment wasted, Because neither one of them could get enough of each other. They reached Dan’s front door at the wee hours of the night, which was probably a good thing because the boys definitely had the stench of a thousand skunks “Don’t worry, they are very much asleep by now” Dan expresses to Phil, being sure to hold a single finger to his lips making sure to keep quiet. Dan takes his boyfriend by the hand, leading him to his old teenage room. If lonely little sixteen year old Dan knew what he was doing now, Dan thought, He would literally shit his pants. “Ill tell them about you in the morning, My mother sure won't mind me actually having someone to socialize with” Dan laughs. Phil stands looking around the room, observing and taking everything in. Phil hadn't said many words on the ride home, but he didn't need too, on the rare occasion that Phil didn't have anything to say, Dan managed to pick up the slack. “Thank you again” Phil says “Hey” Dan says walking closer to his boyfriend, standing in front of him so timidly “Don't worry about it, I love you, and I was just thinking all week…”. Dan stops for a moment, running his fingers over the bookshelf behind him and turning to his boyfriend “that I am so grateful to have you. That you have spiced up my life for the better, and that I'd be having the best Christmas ever if I was spending it with you, so shut uppp”, Dan says playfully punching his boyfriend in the arm “Ow” Phil said in response to how his arm felt, rubbing it with his hand, and playfully engulfing his boyfriend in a hug. “I love you” Phil whispers. “I love you too” Laughs Dan, “now what kind of drugs do you have for us tonight?”. Phil wiggles his eyebrows, and dances his way over to his backpack, pulling out three bags “weed, cocaine, and Meth. Pick your poison baby”. Dan hugs his boyfriend from behind, slowly nibbling on his neck and ear “you're my poison baby”. “don’t worry” Phil says turning his head to snatch a kiss “I'll give it to you when you're ready, baby, you know I could never leave you needy”. And believe me, if Dan wasn't needy before, He definitely was then. He couldn't stop his eyes from lingering all over Phil, and Phil definitely noticed, trying extra hard to put on a show. He packed the bowl, lit it, and handed it to Dan. Dan didn't freak, his parents were sleeping, and he wasn't even sure if they knew what weed was. They smoked for a while, packing bowls until neither one of them felt like they could get any higher. Then they snorted two lines each, of the purest cocaine Phil has ever found in his life. Although, Dan did not know the difference.And all while this was happening, They just couldn't stop talking, making out, or touching each other. Hands grazed skin, and Dan couldn't figure out what was better, touching Phil, or being touched by him. Eventually they had nothing on, but a blanket covering both of them. “I don't know how this could get any better” Says Dan. “I do” responds Phil getting up from Dan's bed. Dan didn't mind watching Phil walk away in that moment, him standing there in all of his glory. Dan was so fucked up, and Phil was so beautiful, he didn't even mind when Phil crushed up some Meth and put it into two neat lines on the table. “Two for you, or one for each of us?” Dan asked dazed off into the distance. “That's not my choice to make, it's yours” Responds Phil. _______________________ Present: Dan sucked in hard at the memory, why did everything that Dan held dear have to be tainted by his addiction. If he even thinks about meth, his skin starts to itch. The feeling it gave him, the person it made him, and the person he used to do meth with. “7:30” says the clock. Dan sinks lower into the couch, wondering if he will ever feel alive ever again. He mentally slaps himself, knowing that he probably won't and he's stupid for being hopeful about anything good happening to him. He think about Phil coming over and his palms start to sweat just like they used too “you're not nineteen anymore, get a grip” he says to himself throwing himself up to start preparing for his guest. He unpacked takeout from his favorite asian restaurant down the street. Even if he didn't have fun tonight, Dan was all about treating himself to a good meal. Taking black dishes down from the white cupboard, Dan freaks out about the lack of color in his apartment, knowing that Phil would like it so much better in his flat if it were adorn in color. He sighed laying out forks and spoons, and dropping one instantly to the ground when he heard a knock on the door. Dan's heart fell to his stomach, knowing that he was about to spend the night with Phil.It would be interesting to say the least. Dan, after two years of experience Dan would know that for sure. And after spending three years, cleaning up his mess, he was about to meet again with the man who turned him into one. Dan's heart raced. Phil on the other side of the door, hears mumbles and small yells coming from what must be Dan inside, grasping flowers real tight in his hand, he dryly speaks up “Dan, are you alright in there?”. Dan's eyes bulge looking at the door “fuck” he mumbles “yeah dude, I'm okay, just give me a minute”. Phil stops for a moment listening closer, learning his cheek against the cold door “are you afraid Dan?” Says Phil lightly. “Yes” answers Dan faintly and honestly. “I am too” says Phil, “want me to let myself in?” “Yeah” Dan says, watching the doorknob twist and the tall raven haired boy step inside. Dan took a deep breath “Hello Phil”. ___________________ “It's not my choice, to make, it's yours” responds Phil. Dan thinks as hard as his for brain will allow him too, and he can't find a single reason at that moment why he wouldn't want to do Meth. So Dan crawled up too Phil, not minding that he was completely exposed, and not minding that Phil's eyes trailed on him as he walked. “Are you scared?” Questions Phil, talking his boyfriend into his arms and stroking his long hair out of his face. “No” answers Dan simply “I'm not afraid at all, which is weird because I always am”. “I can't tell if it's a good or a bad thing” he continues. Phil didn't say much, he only looked at Dan. He didn't understand why people always said his eyes were so pretty. Compared to Dan's, his eyes that were often described as oceans only looked like a puddle. Dan's eyes were, he could hardly find the words to describe them. Like elegant chocolate and honey, like hot embers glowing with passion for him. It was beautiful. And he thought, what a terrible time to think about this. Because Dan was so innocent and precious, and he almost felt like he was potentially going to hurt this boy's future. And then again, that's all Phil wanted to be, Dan's future. Things have never worked for Phil. He was awkward, and although he was good at hiding it, he hardly ever knew what the fuck he was doing. He didn't understand romance, he didn't know how to make someone happy or be there for someone. And yet it was so easy with Dan. In Phil's mind, his sexuality was a giant blur. He grew up straight, dating girls and fucking them over. And he never knew why it was so easy for him to fuck them and throw them away, not caring about their feelings and letting them suffer. He thought he was a bad person and he thought he was heartless, and maybe he was, but at least now he knew why. He was gay, his mind went haywire thinking about it. After all this time, the thing he didn't know he wanted was a boy. So when he seen Dan for the first time, and he finally got those butterflies in his stomach that he had always heard about, he went for it. And now he had his first boyfriend, and he was comfortable about it. “Nor a bad thing, but maybe not a good thing either” says Phil leaving kisses on the boys neck. “Well, I'd try anything once” Dan laughs into Phil's chest making Phil heart warm. “Well, it's just like cocaine, all you do is snort it" explains Phil. Dan nods letting Phil knows he had understood his directions, proceeding, they both bend over at the same time too inhale the substance. And Dan Can't Believe it. It was like the greatest euphoria he had ever felt. It's like how his first kiss with Phil felt, times ten It was like being a small child and thinking Santa left you tons of presents under the Christmas tree, times ten. It was like getting his driver's license times ten. It was everything he wanted to feel and more, it felt like he was experiencing all of the joy he had missed out on But every single moment as once . “oh my god” Dan said breathlessly tilting his head back against the pillow, “oh my god” he repeated again. “Isn't it great” said Phil “that's why I don't do it too often. It's too good”. Dan wondered how anyone could ever want to spend their time doing anything else, “I agree” Dan nodded. Dan looked at the clock, it was three am. Christmas eve was tomorrow and he didn't know how he was going to get any type of sleep anytime soon. He looked at Phil, and he realized he didn't need too. He had Phil to keep him company, and he realized he had all the entertainment in the world. Dan looked at his boyfriend, they were already unclothed, it wouldn't be that hard. Dan only had one task on his mind, and that was Phil. He lifted his leg and swung it around to the other side of Phil so he was straddling his legs. He caught his boyfriend's attention, Phil looking up at Dan blissfully happy. Dan picks up the blanket besides it and wraps it around him and then around Phil's shoulders. “I want you” Dan huskily whispers to Phil, nibbling his ear as he speaks. Phil takes Dan's face so their eyes meet each other “I worship you” Phil says. Dan shys himself, falling into his boyfriend's chest, leaving kisses from his belly all the way up to his neck. “Oh god” Phil exclaims, “this feels so fucking good”. Dan murmurs in agreement “All I want to do is touch you”. They make out for a while, passionately biting each other's lips. It's not long before the tension builds up, and Dan can feel a hot tention burning up in his stomach and a growing erection between his legs. Phil reaches down for him “you're so bloody needy” he growls. He takes Dan's length in his hands, stroking slowly until Dan starts to stroke into him “, be patient for me honey”.` He calmed down and let himself feel it, doing his best to let Phil do all the work for him. The pleasure was intense and soon Dan was on the verge of coming “Please stop, I’m going to come. I want you inside of me” Dan begs. Phil removes his hand from Dan's length, feeling his own erection growing stronger and more needy for pleasure as well. He couldn't deny his Boyfriend or his own needs any longer. Picking up Dan and laying him on the bed, he places the younger boy on his back “Do you have any lube baby?” Phil questions. “In my nightstand” Dan says needly. Phil retrieves the Lube, and smiling at the cute cherry flavoring, he giggles as he poured the pink substance onto his fingers. Dan looked at Phil in anticipation as he began to shove one finger into his ass, he moaned as he stroked in and out. “Please, more” Dan instrucks Phil. Adding another one of his fingers inside, he smiles as beautiful moans escape Dan's lips, He only hopes Dans bedroom is far enough away from his parents to hear them. Soon Phil can't wait any longer, being turned on even more by his boyfriends moans,he coats his own length with the lube, slowly stroking himself he asks “Are you ready baby?” Dan nods in approval. Dan could hardly control his screams, and he didn't know how anything could possibly ever feel so good “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Phil” He moans under his breath. It was the most extreme pleasure he has ever felt, Phil's cock hitting his prostate dead on, and Phil's other hand stroking his. “I don't want you to come yet. Baby, Can you hold off for me?” Phil Says, his stroking pace getting slower along with his own. Dan nods, trying to take all of his focus off of the passion growing in his stomach, the dull, new pace making it harder to resist the temptation. He feels his cock throbbing, deciding this is quite possibly the best sex he has ever had. “I can't hold out much longer, Phil!” Dan exclaims. But he didn't have too, because soon he felt Phil release, and he releases in that moment as well. Dan watched his boyfriend on top of him like god in the clouds above, jaw hanging open like he had seen a ghost. He collapses onto the bed besides Dan, subconsciously wrapping him into his arms. “I'm not tired” Dan observes out loud. “You won't be for about another two days” Phil responds smiling at his boyfriend “it's okay, come here”. Dan follows orders, curling up besides the dark haired boy, and laying his head right in his chest. Dan closed his eyes, feeling Phils warmth radiate on too his back. He tried to imagine what the stars looked like past the roof, but the only image he could conjure in his head was Phil’s eyes. ______________________________________ Present: “You remember my takeout order?” Phil smiles holding up the plastic tray of food for Dan. “If I didn't after dealing with you for three years, well, that means the acid did more harm than we thought” Dan laughs. “Boy, haven't we gotten cynical ?” Phil remarks. Dan nods, he wasn't wrong, three years alone have toughen him up like his bones were steel beams “I just know how to laugh at myself” replys Dan. The room was silent for a moment, void of conversation but not of awkwardness. Dan just didn't know if he could ever accept Phil into his life again. His hair was shorter than before, it suited him, the boy he once knew looked like a man. His tall lanky frame had turned from boyish to cut and fitting for his age and stature, and even his voice and overall tone bad managed to age. He didn't see a boy anymore, he saw a man. “Three years sober” Phil says “you really did stick too it, didn't you?”. Dan nods, retrieving a cigarette from his pocket “I suppose I still have a few vices. How about you?”. “a year and a half now” he says reaching for his pack now as well, “i guess it took me a little while longer too see the light” Dan throws him a smile “Hey it's Okay, Philly, I still smoke weed, I didn't stop cold Turkey”. Phil smiles at Dan, and thinks about how truly happy he is that Dan manages to pick himself up. And although he has missed Dan, he knew if he was in the picture that just wouldn't have happened. He seen a man in front of him, not a boy. Phil grazes his eyes unsubtly over Dan, “you have really matured, Dan, your almost like a whole new person”. Dan rolls his eyes, “that's because I grew up and got my shit together”, he looks at Phil in the same manner “how about you, not so much of a scene kid these days huh”. “I've toned it down” he smiles gleefully with a hint of regret. Dan looked at the boy astonished, he truly didn't know what to do. It's like nothing had changed between them, like nothing had happened. Like all of the heartbreak Dan went through was nothing. “why are you here?”, Dan asks Phil suddenly. Phil thinks for a moment, not taking his eyes off of Dan. However, given the circumstances, how could he? “Another chance approached me, and I knew I'd be a fool not to take it” Phil expressed. “A chance for what?” Dan asked harshly. “To say sorry” Phil says hopefully. Dan took a good look at Phil, and all at the same time couldn't stand to take another glance. He could feel his eyes water, but he didn't want Phil to know that he was crying so he didn't wipe them, he just clenched his fists tighter in hope that it would stop. “I don't. I don't hate you Phil”, Dan explains, “I don't care that you're half the reason my life is ruined, because I can't blame you for that. I choose to follow you-” ____________________________________ It took three days for the boys to fall asleep. After the Christmas fun, the joy in the holidays, the smile that appeared of Phil face, right beneath the bags under his eyes. It was only on the plane ride back home that they finally drifted asleep, no matter how uncomfortable the plane seats were. After three days of Dan's first time on meth, he finally came down, and all he wanted was to go back up. They spent new years in their dorm room, doing exactly what dan wanted. “yo, break out that crystal mate” Dan would say jokingly, with just the right amount of seriousness in his tone. “oh yeah bro, i'll crush that shit right now” Phil would respond extra northerner like. And days would go by, Dan would go to school after taking one last line of the table. Phil would sell glass to his clients. And each day, they would fall even more in love. And it was so perfect. Until it wasn't perfect anymore. It was one saturday morning everything changed, nine am to be exact there was a pounding on their dorm room door. “What the fuck” Phil whispered sleepily unwrapping his arm from His boyfriend to see who was at the door. Dan sat up, and shivered as Phil had gotten up. Phil opened the door to see a familiar shining face. It was the first Lady who had brought Phil to him for the first time before. Her face, however, had a certain unhappy tone in contrast from before. Her arms were folded and her lips curled in disgust, she hands Phil a piece of paper. “You guys need to be out, Two days time. And neither one of you will be attending classes at this university anymore” She said simply. Dan's heart dropped and his eyes widened as he sat up in the bed upon hearing the lady's words” Wh- What do you mean we’re kicked out?” Asks Phil staring at the slip of paper. “We have a zero tolerance drug policy at this university. You two are as dumb as dirt if you don't think everybody in this hall doesn't know what you two are doing at night” he points her finger selectively on both of the boys “And you just better be glad we are kicking you out and not getting the police involved. Two days, you have two days to get out of here”. It was like slow autumn. Turning from Summer time into Fall, watching leaves turn from green, to yellow, to dead; ending up crunched up and broken on the pavement, wet and mucky at the bottom of a lake, or in a trash bag somewhere. That's how things crumbled for them, building beautifully, and dying all at once just when you thought it was the most gorgeous it could have been. She left quickly after that, leaving Dan and Phil taken aback staring at each other. Neither one of them could speak, everything was all caught in their throat and they had nobody to blame but themselves. Phil sat next to Dan while they both tried to take it all in. Phil was the first to talk “Okay, Well. I have a plan.” Dan jumped “What is it?”. “Suicide pact” Phil Laughed flopping back onto the bed. “This isn't a joke Phil!” Dan says annoyed, getting up and starting to pace “We just got kicked out of school! Our futures are ruined!”. Dan couldn't believe it, He wasn't doing the best in school, but he was tying. And now he couldn't try anymore, because he was just kicked out of school. He felt like a failure, like everything everyone has always said about him was true. A lazy, loner, procrastinator, that would never achieve to anything. They were right. He couldn't breath, no air would pass through his lungs, and he felt like he was going to fall to the floor at any moment. But all he did was pace. “I know it's a bad deal, We fucked up. But you can go back to school in england, live with your parents again. Everything goes back to normal” Phil says getting up too pat dan on the back. And However Dan knew that was rational, and well. Of course it was rational, That was the adult thing to do, suck up his pridem admit he made a mistake, and do everything in your power to fix it, right? All of Dan Howells problems might be fixed, fuck, he might even get sober, however, the easy way out was not Dans way of doing things. Leaving america, meant leaving Phil. Leaving America and going pack to his parents house meant that he would have to tell them he got kicked out of his university because he was doing hardcore drugs. And lastly, leaving America meant that Dan howell wouldn't have any access to any sort of drugs, because he was a loser, and no way was he going to be a drugless, boyfriendless loser who lives with his parents. So he scrapped that idea to the back of his brain. “Get that out of your head, Phil. I'm not telling my parents I got kicked out of school And I am especially not leaving you either” Dan says rather harshly to his boyfriend. Phl sighs “It was worth a shot” He says “well, then we're going to have too rough it for a while. And luckily I know exactly how to do that. You just have too trust me”. Dan was so scared that he didn't speak during the next few hours it took too clean up their room. They continued to do drugs in the last moments that they spent because, well what more damage could they really do? Dan sat and wondered what he was going to do with the rest of his life, now that he, you know, ruined his education. He felt what could be an existential crisis and the need to lay down on the floor and fade into oblivion hung over his shoulders like dead weight. Nonetheless, He snorted and smoked anything that he could get his hands on that night to ease the pain. By nine O’clock at night, everything was packed. They looked at each other in silence for a moment before Phil englifed Dan in a hug. ‘What are we going to do?” Dan started to weep into his boyfriend's shoulders “I just completely ruined my life Phil”. Phil shakes his head and pats Dan’s back to assure him “Hey, Hey, Hey” Dan says soothing him “It's just another little bump in the road. You can always apply for other colleges, or go to a community college. We can turn this into something great, we can get a flat together”. Dan smiled at Phil, a flat? A flat, with Phil? He always knew how to make Dan feel better “You mean that?” Dan said. “I love you Dan, There is nothing I would love more” He says Now let's go, we need to find a place to stay tonight” Of course they did have two more days to get out of there, But as Phil had mentioned while they were packing, there was simply no point in staying in a place where they weren't wanted. So they grabbed their boxes and took trips up and down too Phil's car, filling the back seats with their combined prised possessions until the back seat was filled; Leaving what they felt was unnecessary behind, The boys started out on their journey sitting in the car and smoking a joint one last time. Phil laughs smoking, and flicking the ashes out of the window “Well, I suppose we can’t sleep in the car then?”. Dan nods, he feels like crying, but Phil's high spirits manage to lift him up some sort of way “Then it's either, under a bridge or a motel somewhere”. “Option B sounds a little more preferable to me, What do we have for combined money?” Phil asks “In my bank account, probably about five thousand”. Dan was surprised to hear that number, knowing that Phil has never really ever had ay type of job. He let the thought escape his mind, He didn't want to know the answer to that one. But for that same reason, he also felt safe. Phil knew how to survive the streets, and he knew that Phil wasn't going to let anything bad happen to him no matter what. He felt reassured “About three thousand, My parents send me money monthly for school. Which they don’t exactly know I don’t attend. And although it sounded sleezy, Dan KNEW he was going to need that money. `”Well, That should help us survive for a while. We can get jobs, We can do this” Phil said with a hint of doubt in his voice “How about we find a place to stay tonight, and then we start looking in the morning. Sound good?” Dan nodded but stayed quiet, it seemed like he didn't have the right words to say. It's not that he didn't trust Phil, because he did, with his whole heart. But he knows the impact of the events that have just taken place, and that's not something he could fix so easily. How could he be so careless with his life like that? He had tried so hard, and now here he was. He didn't feel like a loser anymore, but again, he felt like the biggest loser out there. They drove for about thirty minutes with the car radio as a low and dull background noise, meant to fill the gap of silence that was between them. They weren't mad at eachother, and how could they be? It was a fuck up on both ends and now they were going to have to face the consequences, but there was no shame, they were going to do it together. But their was a certain tension, a fear of the unknown, and how they were going to fix this mess. Soon, the boys got to their destination, a shabby looking place, and half off the bulbs on the welcome sign blown out. It didn't feel like home, until Phil grabbed Dans hand in the parking lot, his thumb over his hand slightly, and suddenly it did. Phil was home, And that gave Dan the bravery he lacked. When they finally checked into their hotel room, Phil looked around thoughtfully and faced Dan “Well it could be worse” He chuckled. Dan looked around, and this place definitely wasn't a vacation. The green and yellow sheets did not contrast well to the faded brown wallpaper on the walls, looking at the smoke stained ceiling and lamp, Dan was glad that at least they could smoke in here. And hopefully in doing so the bugs will hide somewhere far away from Dan as he Slept. Dan throws down his stuff, hesitantly sitting down on the bed, and then flopping down heavily. “they will be surprised to see us in here for more than a few hours” Phil said, sitting down next to his boyfriend “this is where the junkies come too shoot up, get off the street for the night. I've spent a few nights here in the past”. Dan didn't want to ask, but for some reason he did “Were you shooting up?” Dan asks, with a hint of playfulness in his life. “Yes actually” Phil Says without shame “ Do you want to jump in the shower honey? You look tired”. Dan nods, deciding it's better to dismiss the problem completely. Besides, what was he going to do now? He loves Phil, but he can't help but feel like the drugs use acts like cling film around the two boys, keeping them together completely. Dan tried not to think about it too much as Phil helps him remove the shirt from his back, his touch is so soft and delicate as it leaves their touch on his skin. It feels like heaven, it feels like home. But yet, he feels wrong too. He kisses Phil with apprehension, and as he washes his back, he thinks more about the touch than the toucher himself. And then he thinks about how he isn't high, and how he wants to be. So the boys dry off and get on cozy jammies from their suitcases, they lay back in bed, and put the glass up to their lips. Dan has been doing meth for about five months now, when Dan gets up to use the bathroom he examines his ever thinning frame in the mirror. He smiles and grabs at his different body parts, realizing that the baby fat he used to hate so much. The thing that Dan realized about doing Meth constantly is that you never really have an appetite, and when you continue to do meth, it means you can't stomach more than a couple bites. Dan didn't mean to starve himself. He hardly even notices it happening until three days pass and he can feel his stomach caving in, he would then force himself to eat something light, because eating seemed to disgust him. He could wrap his pointer finger and thumb around his wrist, he wondered if Phil noticed his thinning frame, He wondered if Phil preferred it or not. Dan slips into a big jumper and some boxers, He could feel the comfortable high taking effect. He checked the time, it said 10:30, normal people would be sleeping at this time, but Dan knew he'd be awake for the better part of the night from the uphoria. Dan looked into the mirror at his dilated pupils, and remembers how beautiful Phils probably look right now. Dan exits the bathroom and sees his boyfriend sitting on the edge of the bed, the old green sheets stripped and replaced for Phil’s similar set. Dan smiled because that was such a Phil thing to do. He goes up to Phil, swinging both of his legs over Phils so he can straddle him “I J-Just. I Just got to look at your eyes right now” Dan says placing his hands on Phils neck. “Then look you shall” Phil says widening his eyes and squinting them back up again to tease the boy. Dan laughs “You fucking Spork”. _________________________________________________________________________________________ “I don't. I don't hate you Phil”, Dan explains, “I don't care that you're half the reason my life is ruined, because I can't blame you for that. I choose to follow you-” Dan trails off failing to get the right words out of his mouth, over thinking it all, and making himself cry more than he was before. He takes a breath in for composure “ I choose to follow you. I did the…. I- ...wanted to be cool.” Dan says. “But I can't think about it? Okay? Ive survived three years because I managed to detach myself from that part of my life, got it? I” Dan wipes his eyes again, replacing his sadness and anger for a lighter note “ And now look at you, Mr- Fucking- Perfect, coming in here all grown up, sober, and awkward and clumsy? Who even are you?” Phil is caught off by the emotion spewing from Dan, how someone he used to see as so mousy and defenceless, Looked so strong even when he was crying. Phil was amazed, Not only by his forward motion of “Mr- Fucking-Perfect”, but also by his willingness to get it all on the table. “You have grown so much” Phil laughs looking at Dan through found eyes. And besides the worries of both of the boys, That night wasn't as terrible and awkward as it could have been, It wasn't like the terrible noise of anging pots and pans, but more like hearing your little eight year old sister practice her recorder in school. Yeah, it might have been painful and annoying, but at least they were trying? They were trying. For the first time In three years Dan didn't feel alone, so why did he resent it so much? Why was Dan having so much fun, and yet at the same time all he wanted was for Phil too leave. But at the same time it felt like a second chance, a second chance too no fuck up something that was great even when it was bad. He wasn't sure, all Dan knows is that he wanted Phil to leave, and all at the same he wished he would crawl into his bed. After that night, Didn't mind seeing Phil. There was no dread of Friday NA with Phil, they would go out for smokes before hand and after, catching up on their separate weeks, but never really hanging out besides that. Just because Dan didn't mind Phil, doesn't mean that Dan was ready under any circumstances to be around Phil again. Dan could still feel his throat clenching and eyes watering sometimes, just thinking about the things that happened between him and Phil. Dan never really had the chance to get any help with the “Trauma”, as some might call it. He may have gone to a rehab, but that only fixed the chemical part to the equation. Dan is smart and old enough to know that he used drugs when he was young because he didn't want to deal with his problems. It was an escape, and he was aware of that. However he might have escaped his addiction, but he never dealt with the problems he was facing at the time, and the added trauma on top of that. Dan was still a wreck, but at least he was a sober wreak anyway. One Day when Dan goes out for a smoke, Phil joins his and they sit on the railing outside of the familiar church building that holds the NA program. It was their spot, just under a tree, where everything looked so optimistic from the shade. The tree was pink, and it reminded Dan of japan and pure bliss, when the two would discuss Anime, it would only enhance the experience “Do you wanna come over today?” Phil asked flicking his cigarette onto the grass, twisting the filter between his hands. Dan teased the idea of going to Phil's apartment, His curiosity said yes, but his brain said no. Dan didn't know if he wanted to see what Phil's life looked like, he didn't know if he wanted to get that close to him again. Of course Phil had gone to Dan's house, but that was his comfort, Phil was alien to him now, it had been years, he didn't even know who Phil was anymore. And Phil could feel his apprehension, he felt a small pang in his chest “I mean like, we would like, hang out? I haven't played Mario Cart with someone in ages”. Phil took a long, sad, drag of his cigarette, truthfully he hadn't had any company in months. He was too afraid. He would stay in his house and work on his work, trying to scrape by on the paintings he could sell at the market, and working part time at the florist shop under his house. He liked working there, slowly watching all the plants grow from the soil in which he raised them, and since then he acquired many of them in his appartment. Sadly, However, the green foliage doesn't speak, and Phil is often alone. He didn't trust himself to go out, But he trusted Dan, He hoped. Dan noticed Phils sadness and even though his apprehension he found himself agreeing, It's not like he wasn't going to do anything tonight anyway. ______________________________________________________________________ Past: They didn't manage to get on their feet until a couple days later, when they got out of there constant loop of half sobriety and meth infused nights. Dan would stare at the wall, and Phil would stare into the TV screen, sometimes they would look at each other. And eventually, One of them got sober enough to realize that something needed to get done. Both the boys looked online for a flat in their price range, which wasn't much, and both of them needed jobs since they needed to be adults, which also happened to be in low quality. They found a flat, in a neighborhood that Phil was familiar with, he said “It needs some TLC” But it was a place for them. And Dan wondered if this was such a bad thing to begin with anyway. He didn't really want to go to college, he only went because it was what what suspected of him. But now he was old enough to do everything he wanted, which was be with Phil. They got the flat, they had enough funds to sustain them for now, and they would worry about the jobs within the next couple months. Until then, Phil would sell, the one way he for sure sure he could get cash. The first time they went to their new home, Dan was apprehensive to say the least. The tiles in the kitchen floor were cracked and Dan would never dare in a million years to try using the bearfoot claw with paint chipping off the sides. Although, Dans disgust started to fade however when the boys started to fill the house with their stuff. Everything, in an instant, started to look better when it was littered with the clutter of their belongings. “We will definitely need to take a trip to IKEA soon” Phil expressed positively while wiping his hands against his jeans as he added the rest of his help to the house “We only have one bed currently, I'm sure that won't be a problem though”. Dan admired how Phil would always manage to make light of even the gloomiest of situations. Dan felt like their was a rain cloud over his head, pouring rain and soaking his brain. But light peeked out the clouds and at least created a pretty rainbow for the sad boy too look at while it poured. As the Boys began to get settled into the new swing of things, Phil started to teach Dan the ropes. Since Dan wasn't engrossed in his school work now, he could go on runs with Phil. And since Phil never really went to class to begin with, suppose this was just the same for Phil as before, Except Dan was with him all the time now and he lived somewhere else. And to Phil, this wasn't a horrible thing at all. In fact, He happened to like this way of living little more. And Dan didn’t feel as stressed, so he didn't bother enrolling himself in local college spring classes, Being with Phil, selling drugs, partying, and doing drugs, was all Dan was really interested in nowadays, to say the least. And since Phil liked to do the same things, He didn't mind that Dan didn't want to better his education or get a job, because at least Dan never left his frame. They money began to roll in, People liked Phils happiness and charisma, People liked Dans soft looks and voice and how he could bant with people for hours. And Dan and Phil together, was an unbreakable bond that customers just seemed to cling on too, and they would spend their days driving around so they could pay the rent that they owed. One day Phil looked up from his phone and then at Dan and said “Hey there's a party on 5th tonight, should we check it out?” Dan nodded in agreement, reaching behind himself to reach for his black leather jacket, and was happy when Phil reached for his red one, and they locked the door behind them, Phil taking his backpack with them. One of the things that Dan loved about Phil so much is there similar music tastes. And since the spent a whole bunch of time in the car together trying to pay their rent, it was a simple blessing. Nonetheless, the boys had fun singing on the way to the party. It's a whole new life, Dan smiled to himself. When they pulled up to one of the houses that Dan recognizes, this is one of their often stops, which is surprising because Phil doesn’t like the idea of going to a house more than a few times. But one of Phil's closest friends from school lives here, so they tend to linger around for his mate. “Hey Kat” Said Phil as he walked into the living room, shoting loudly over the mess of people littered around her California apartment. “In here!” She yelled back, from what sounded like her own bedroom. This was a party place, no mistake to be made about it. Dan observed the graffiti littering the walls, and how it looked against the fairy lights hanging from the ceiling and against the artwork creating a dark atmosphere and a pretty yellow light from around the apartment. He looked around at the drug infused people, on their own rides and dosages,everyone has their own experience. And although all of these people are here now, and well, we're also here most of the time. This was cat's place, and everyone was allowed st cat's place, with the exception of her room. But Dan and Phil were an exception and walked in to see cat on her bed, her frame smaller than before, in pajamas lounging her her bed. She had those things that Dan had once observed his mother put around her toes for polish, and was painting her nails a pretty shade of red, as she cooked a spoon in the candle fire next to him. It was nothing Dan wasn't desensitized to now, He knew some people had the willpower to stay away from hard drugs, the willpower to get off of them if they wanted. But cat was ruining her body and her life, she didn't care, she was living happily. Dan was desensitized by now, I mean, all he did was sell the stuff, he didn't actually do heroin. “I'm about to get fucked, boys” She said with a smirk, not looking up from finishing the last details of her paint “What can I do for you two?”. It saddened Dan, he knew Cat for a while now, and it almost hurt to have someone kind deterioration in front of him “We just came to say hi, and sell some shit” Said Phil reaching to give her a hug “I hope that goes good for you” Phil smiles at her. “We’ll, You know my abode is your stomping grounds , boys” She reached beside her for a needle and strap “Mind sticking me, Phillip?”. “Sure thing” He said going over to her. It's completely weird how normal it is, How less than a year ago Dan didn't even want to smoke weed, and now he was watching his boyfriend shoot a friend up. He ties the band around her upper arm to stop the flow to her veins, and he pushes the toxins into her arm. She breaths in quick, like happiness and euphoria at once, and slumps into the bed like she is apart of it. Dan closes his eyes, knowing she isn't dead, but she might as well be “It's a hard thing” Says Phil “Can you can’t stop them, you can't grow attached to a junkie”, He puts a pillow under her head and leans her body to the side, so if she throws up, she won't gag on her own vomit. They go around the house, everyone knows what they are doing there. They get a few familiar faces come up to them for their fix, and a few new ones who got the word. Every thirty minutes or so one of the boys go to check on Cat to make sure she's still breathing. Phil looks down at his phone “Would you be okay with staying here and finishing up while I make a quick run?”. Dan has never sold by himself before, This gave him a strong sense of confidence, just because that meant Phil trusted him with something very important. And Although the thought of being alone here scared Dan shitless, He knew Phil wouldn't have bothered asking unless it was the absolute option,and Besides, He had Cat who would be coherent enough soon. Surely the druggies wouldn't eat him whole, so he agrees “Sure thing” Dan gleams kissing his boyfriend through a toothy grin. The moment Phil walked out of Dan's sight, It's the moment he went to talk to Kat again. That's when everything changed. (To Be Continued)

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Angelo Cataldi Predictably Playing the “He Won’t Hustle” Card with Manny Machado

‘Tis the season for family, friends, and a festive holiday.

Ben Simmons has been seen around town doing couple things with Kendall Jenner – most recently at Build-A-Bear – and embracing the spirit of the season.

While the Phillies are preparing to woo free agent superstar Manny Machado, Angelo Cataldi took to Twitter way too early this morning to call humbug:

The Phillies are about to make the most expensive blunder in their history. If they offer Manny Machado $300 million today, they will regret it for the next decade. Fans here don’t want a guy who said he won’t hustle. Don’t the Phillies understand this?

— Angelo Cataldi (@AngeloCataldi) December 20, 2018

I can’t be the only person fed up with this type of antiquated thinking. There’s an obvious give-and-take with this sort of thing. Cataldi is trying to drum up interest in his show prior to the holiday weekend – not that the ratings are exactly close between his show and 97.5’s – and he might not even believe what’s he’s putting out. In a way, Angelo Cataldi is like the Alex Jones of Philly sports media, peddling nonsense to the masses and – for better or worse – people listen religiously. It’s feigning outrage to foment anger. The thing that many understand is what I mentioned before: he’s an entertainer who very well might not believe what he’s saying. $300 million for an elite infielder who would immediately raise the Phillies’ profile and their odds of contending in the 2019 season is an absolute steal. If Cataldi actually believes this “rah rah, he doesn’t hustle” crap, he’s a fool, as Bob wrote so eloquently here. Any time you can add a 26-year-old  who slugged 37 HR and 107 RBI (13 HR and 42 RBI after moving to the National League), you do it.

More after the jump:

Machado’s already met with the White Sox and Yankees. If I’m John Middleton, I throw down a wad of cash and wrap this thing up today. There’s obviously the counter argument that Machado might not want to play for the Phillies, but is using them as leverage for a larger deal from New York. I can’t dispute that, but if that were really the case, wouldn’t you think the Yankees would have locked him into a deal on Wednesday?

I don’t care if Gabe Kapler has to carry Matt Klentak into the room for sympathy. Get the deal done.

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[fog-meat-tad-tea]

huge fan of phil lester. btw

huge fan of dan howell. btw