#I'm posting this to clean a dead laptop.

[how-good-day]

concepts of a relative of Gristol ( older sister ) based on a post that I probably won 't find anymore

[katzenmas]

König who leaves you little notes when he has to leave the house earlier than you. they're small colorful post its that he sticks on any surface he can.

the tradition started quite a while ago. back when he would leave for ops without telling you, coming back and missing you just by a few minutes. it took a toll on the relationship. he wasn't allowed to have his phone on during ops and there was no way of contacting him.

so one time you took out your old stationary stack and scribbled ' do NOT leave your muddy boots on my white rug when you come back', the pink post it was stuck to the entryway hallway wall. right where he meticulously hangs his jacket every time he comes back home in the dead of night.

when könig read the note a smile tugged on his lips. he took the steel toe boots and put them in the bathroom, deciding to clean them off tomorrow. after a long shower the sun was creeping up on the horizon and the austrian stood in your shared kitchen, ransacking the cabinets.

his strudel that he always buys from a small pastry shop had run out, the milk was turning sour by the smell and there was no more beer. looking at the clock and realizing that you will be up in 40 minutes to go to work he finds a post it and starts writing.

'i went to the store to buy some groceries. please if you eat my strudel leave some for me next time liebe'

the neon yellow note on the fridge caught your attention as you were frantically trying to put together a small breakfast to scarf down before you were late. with a quirk of your brow you picked up a different post it and stuck it right below his.

' you know i dont eat your layered pastries. you were the one that ate the remainder of it after getting drunk.

p.s please make some food for lunch, i'll swing by on my break'

the method worked for you. sometimes it was a list of stuff to get for the house, a little poem you would try to write in german, a reminder for an important date, but sometimes it was just a sweet ' i love you' written in cursive and stuck to the wall behind your bed.

' please stop trying to write in german schatzi, the grammar is hurting my eyes. at least use google translate'

' PLEASE DO NOT TAKE MY PANTIES ON YOUR OPS I'M RUNNING LOW ON UNDERWEAR!!!!'

' soup's in the fridge. get some baking soda when you go to the store'

' i love you hase! p.s sorry i broke your laptop it was an accident'

'how did you ACCIDENTALLY sit on my work laptop'

[giveafike]

TLDR: Halloween with your boyfriend, Ben!

Word count + info: 4.8k. Dialogue (conversation and azzie commentary throughout).

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW but also...lwky PG 13. Suggestive themes, but nothing too NSFW. Mention of a burn injury and gagging in between (in a SFW way) so if that's something to put you off, read cautiously!

Azzie Notes ✚: YAYY halloween post! I couldn't pick what kind of blurb to write so...I wrote a bunch of mini ones! I tried something new, idk if I fw this format or not, you guys lmk honestly how you feel about bulleted posts.

ALSO! Stay safe tonight guys! Idk about you guys but where I'm from, Halloween can get a bit crazy or out of control, so whatever you do tonight, be responsible and sensible for this weekend! And happy Diwali to anyone celebrating - diye jalein aur mithaiyan chalen 🤭 bas khushiyaan hi khushiyaan ho (someone send me ukadiche modak PUHLEASE) 🤍🪔

I'm literally writing this part on the train home from work lmao, I'm gonna get on my laptop and get the big story up too, idk why it didn't upload yday but it's not here in my drafts or scheduled anymore! I'll figure it out tho dw.

Socials + Updates: twitter ( @azziegivesafike)

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Halloween'ing - B.T.S.

It must've been the very first time Ben was home for a holiday that wasn't Christmas or New Year's and God, were you excited.

Sure, losing in Paris sucked but the amount of time you could spend and things you could do together was exhilarating. You were practically buzzing off of the walls with ideas.

Halloween wasn't something you had given much care or notice to since your childhood, but now there was a whole new rush of activities and warmth surrounding the beautiful season, something you welcomed warmly.

how many homemade treats you could make, pumpkin carving with Ben, maybe even dress up together as a couple...

Ben was more eager about the idea of candy (and you in a sexy Halloween costume)

You could drone on and on about how good those Trader Joe Pumpkin Spice cookies were, you never expected yourself to fall for the Pumpkin Spice craze but here you were, talking Ben's ear off.

He rolled his eyes pretending to be nonchalant

even though he'd be reaching for another cookie within a few minutes.

"Just need to check they're not poisoned...are these laced with sumn'?"

A couple of days later, when you and Ben got back from the pumpkin patch, you laid out your carving kit on the island, practically jumping to get stuck in.

Was far from picture-perfect though.

Ben's kryptonite was the damn pumpkin from the get-go.

His shoulders are up to his ears as he leans over his pumpkin, cautiously poking at the hollowed-out insides with a look of pure dread.

You’ve literally provided him with every scooper and tool imaginable, trying to make this as clean as possible, but he’s still staring into the pumpkin like it’s some kind of orange horror show.

He holds his breath, then takes a tentative scoop, immediately gagging at the smell.

“Oh my god…babe, it’s like-” he shudders, hand over his nose, “like mouldy socks and old food had a baby.”

His face scrunches up as he recoils, practically jumping back. “Nah, no way.”

The sight is so absurd you burst into laughter, doubling over as he waves his hands like he’s trying to shake off the memory. "It’s not that bad! See!” you say, holding up a slimy handful of seeds with a wicked grin.

He gags, shuddering and shuts his eyes.

You’re insane if you think this is normal. This pumpkin needs, like, a hazmat suit or something.”

He flinches again, rubbing his nose like he can’t get the smell out of it, even though he hasn’t touched it with his bare hands yet.

He's deadass wearing medical gloves for this.

“Ben,” you gasp between laughs, wiping a tear from your eye. “It’s just a pumpkin. You’re acting like it’s a dead possum or something!”

“Smells like one,” he mutters darkly, gingerly pushing the spoon back toward the orange insides, his hand shaking just enough to make you lose it all over again.

Took maybe like, an hour and a half for him to de-gut the pumpkin

each attempt is met with a new level of melodrama, and by the fourth scoop, you’re clutching your sides, actually having to pause because you can barely breathe from laughing so hard.

He manages to carve out some semblance of a face, albeit a lopsided one with stupid teeth and tiny eyes that look more befuddled than scary.

“See? Told you I could do it,” he says, though his voice is shaky as if he’s barely recovered from a traumatising experience.

Such a diva, oh my god bruh.

You take one look at the pumpkin’s wonky, wide-eyed expression and nearly snort.

It's giving that "dumb ahh pumpkin" TikTok trend.

It’s actually the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen.

“Ben, it’s adorable.”

“S’posed to be scary…”

You glance over at him, lips twitching as you pull out your phone, quietly queuing up that TikTok audio. You hold in your laughter as you film the pumpkin with the distorted “pumpkin!” sound blaring, then pan the camera up to Ben.

The look of stunned betrayal on his face as he realises what you’ve done is absolutely priceless, his jaw dropping before he tries to reach for the phone.

The video catches his reaction in perfect two-second glory, and you both watch it back, his stunned face paired with the ridiculous audio, unable to stop laughing.

As you clean up, (Ben finally taking off his surgical blue gloves and scrubbing his hands away like a surgeon) you set the pumpkins outside and place the tealight candles inside, smiling at your actually scary pumpkin and...

that dumb pumpkin Ben made.

It's cute though, side by side, in its own way.

But you can't spend forever admiring them, it's time to make the snacks for your movie marathon tonight!

It was Ben's idea, he had a list of candy to buy and was on popcorn duty but the real star of the show was gonna be the Halloween classic; candy apples.

You both set up in the kitchen, bowls and ingredients spread out, ready to take on the challenge together.

Ben eyes the setup, grinning and rolling up his sleeves like he’s ready to make a masterpiece, even if you’re still suspicious of his pumpkin-carving skills.

The air is still sweet from the pumpkin guts, but with the sugar and cinnamon in the mix now, the atmosphere feels a bit warmer and cozier.

"Just you watch,” he says, giving you a confident wink. “I can make these apples look better than anything you’d find at a fair.”

It's adorable seeing Ben so confident and yet so easy by your side, almost competitive in his ways but not actually challenging or pushing you.

As you dip the apples one by one into the pot of Ben's hot sugar syrup, the colours come out glossy and bright red.

He might be onto something, these are looking pretty good!

As you both move onto the 4th one, you hear a small sizzle, then a loud, sharp hiss.

“Oh—ow, ow! Damn, that’s hot as fuck!”

You grab his hand immediately, your fingers gently running over the reddening spot on his palm.

“Ben! I told you to be careful! Sugar burns like crazy.”

“I knowwwww, I know,” he whines, wincing.

You lead him over to the sink and run cool water over his hand. You can’t help but smile softly as you fuss over him, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles while the cold water soothes his burn, holding his fingers in your hand as you focus on the pained spot.

“You’re such a disaster in the kitchen, you know that?”

“Hey, I was just…testing the temperature, tha's all.”

You roll your eyes and wrap his hand in a small ice pack for a bit, lingering there in the quiet, the coolness of the ice melting away any sting, until his hand feels better and you’re ready to tackle the apples again.

But no sooner than you start, he picks one up-

idiot

eyeing it as if he’s about to bite down without a second thought.

“BEN, ITS STILL SCALDING PUT IT DOW-”

You grab his wrist moving the semi-hardened apple away before he injures himself more.

"Just testin' your reflexes" he mumbles, laughing a bit.

"Sure."

Ben stepped out to light your pumpkins on the porch doorstep as the sun set, smiling and taking a quick photo, admiring the silly tradition spent together.

The house filled with the scent of caramel, you and Ben settle under a pile of blankets over you both, a bowl of popcorn wedged between your legs, and an assortment of snacks within easy reach for a spooky movie marathon.

He went out for a bit to "go grab something"

only to come back with some stupid clown mask, hiding behind the sofa to startle you.

After you screamed and he apologised with kisses and cuddles (after minutes of laughing and mocking you), you dimmed the lights and settled in, starting with a classic slasher that sets the spooky mood right from the start.

It doesn’t take long for the jump scares to start, and though you brace yourself, there’s one moment that catches you off guard, making you gasp and clutch his arm tightly. Ben laughs, his hand sliding around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

“Spooked already?”

“No! Not scared, just…caught off guard.”

Ben nestles his head against yours, finding himself kissing the top of your head, his arm around you as he rubs soothing circles on your arm.

He's doing all that to distract himself from the jumpscares btw.

Bc he's getting just as startled as you, if not more.

He completely zones out while watching and the jumpscares jolt through him, snapping him back to the movie plot, which then scares him even more - like, wdym there's a killer on the loose and he's literally right beside the main character?!?

But comforting you, in its odd way makes him feel comforted and safe too.

He can't help but find himself enthralled in all the silly traditions and festivities around Halloween just because it's by your side.

As the next one rolls in, he glances down at you and peppers kisses along your hairline, his lips warm and gentle.

Though you’re locked in and wrapped up in the tension of the movie, you feel safe and completely at ease in his arms.

Doesn't last long though.

As the hours creep into the deep of night it seems like the movies get spookier, creepier, and more disturbing, and his thumb rubs soft circles on your shoulder whenever a scene begins, almost instinctively comforting you as he whispers soft reassurances.

You can't even listen to what he's saying, your clammy hands gripping his arm as you squeal, failing to tear your eyes away.

"Oh my god, Be- BEN!! OH MY GOD!"

He just covers your eyes with his hand

"Ben, I can't see"

"Good, it's awful, don't watch this scene"

He feels super cool and smart for pulling that move out btw. “Just another day of protecting my girl”

By the time the credits roll on the last film, you’re tucked against him, drowsy, exhausted and a sugar crash hitting you as the remains of the candied apples and popcorn are strewn over the table.

He glances down, his fingers brushing your cheek, and tilts your chin up for a sweet, lingering kiss.

“Still scared?” he asks in a soft voice.

“Maybe a little,"

“Good,” he murmurs, his smile warm. “Means I get to hold you all night."

What an opportunist.

It's the night before Halloween before you know it, the excitement of pumpkin carving, candied apples, and scary movies behind you.

Ben suggests a late-night drive!

"Let's see the decorations, it's a trip down my memory lane"

He's got that :D face going on, how could you even resist?

The air is cool and crisp as you both pile into his car, wrapped in hoodies and each other’s warmth.

Ben reaches over, like he always does, lacing his fingers with yours as he pulls out of the driveway, his thumb brushing soft, slow circles over your hand.

The neighbourhood is dressed for the season, with yards filled with skeletons, giant spiders, and strings of orange and purple lights that flicker in the dark.

Some houses go all out, with life-size ghost projections, speakers, massive jumpscare decorations and fog machines casting an eerie glow across the lawns, while others keep it simple with a row of glowing pumpkins along the steps.

It’s like Halloween magic has taken over, and the streets are a soft blend of shadows and a warm, festive glow amidst the golden leaves scattered all over.

“See that one? That’s where the Johnsons live. They’ve been doin’ that witch since I was like, I dunno, 10? Never changes. Every year, same decorations.”

Ben points out more houses, telling you which ones hand out full-size candy bars, which houses skimped out and which ones used to scare him when he and Emma were kids.

“You’d be one of those kids who scoped out the best houses before Halloween, wouldn’t you?”

“Absolutely. Me, Emma and my buddies’d race for the full-sized bars, but if we made it to Mr. O’Malley’s house last? He’d run outta candy and give us IOU's for his store instead. That was the jackpot right there,” He laughs, squeezing your hand as he reminisces.

You nod, listening as he goes on, getting lost in the stories, the way his eyes sparkle a bit more with each memory. He talks about the high school haunted houses, how his friends would sneak around, trying to out-scare the actors, and the endless piles of candy that took him weeks to finish.

How Emma wouldn't let him tag along with her and her friends because he was embarrassing her.

His voice softens as he describes the little thrills and mischievous moments, almost as if Halloween itself has this permanent spot in his heart.

He drives slower, letting the headlights illuminate the way as you soak in the charm of it all and the softness of being alone together.

You rest your head against the window, his hand warm in yours, the night stretching on in the glow of the lights and the quiet roads.

“Hard to believe I get to spend it with the love of my life this year,” he says after a while, glancing over with a soft smile, his voice is barely above a whisper.

It's almost like he was saying it to himself, more than to you.

You kiss the back of his hand, holding it there, feeling the warmth of the moment entirely.

As you drive past another house, one with an elaborate ghost setup and an old-fashioned lamp swinging like a haunted porch light, he points, chuckling. “Man, they’d have the best haunted houses. I’d be scared stiff. Now? Not so much.”

"Uh-huh, sure, Ben. I reckon you'd still get scared."

"We can pretend like I’m the brave one.”

“Oh, so you’re brave now?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Only when you’re here,” he says, brushing a soft kiss over your knuckles.

"So cheesy, Shelton"

"And you eat it up every time" he quips back, smiling.

The drive back is peaceful, almost like you’re kids again, wrapped in an innocent kind of wonder and admiration that the holiday brings.

When he finally pulls into his driveway, he parks but doesn’t make a move to get out.

Instead, he rests his head on the seat, just watching you, studying you.

The moonlight catches in his eyes, and he gives you that sweet, sleepy look that’s filled with all the warmth and happiness you could ask for, both of you bathed in the moonlight together.

The next day is Halloween, and no surprise, Ben forgot to mention something:

there's a party...

and he said you're going....

"Ben, what the FUCK are we gonna wear? I don't even have anything remotely close to a costume and-"

"Victoria's Secret model?"

He gets a punch to the arm for that quip. He had that ready and blurted it out wayyyy too quickly.

Once again, he's an opportunist!

Can't fault him! Don't hate the player, hate the game or whatever those finance bros say.

You both end up going to a costume warehouse, which, to no surprise (except Ben's), is practically ransacked and has just a small selection left.

"Wow! These racks and shelves are almost empty!"

"Yeah Ben, it's quite literally Halloween day..."

"Oh, yeah..."

"yep."

By the time you make your way to the ladies' section, Ben’s excitement is borderline overwhelming.

He's tossing costumes in your direction, with each pick, his grin only grows, that voice of his thickening with each comment.

Bet you can't guess what kind of costumes he's looking at!

“Alright, babe, here’s what I’m thinkin’.”

He hands you a bag with a red devil outfit...

...which is basically a glorified bodysuit.

“This, or-wait, wait, wait…”

He reaches back and pulls out a barely-there nurse outfit.

“Maybe this? C’mon, tell me you wouldn’t look hot as hell in it.”

"Oh my god, Catwoman?! Baby...Catwoman! You'd look so fuckin' good as...wait what's this one? Oh! Or, how about a cop? It comes with handcuffs!!!"

He's practically blushing with several skimpy costumes in his arms, a gummy smile wide, and eyes massive like a teenager looking at a Playboy magazine for the first time.

“I was actually thinking… Fiona, from Shrek. The green body paint, prosthetic nose and all.”

His face falls in sheer horror.

He just stands there, slackjawed, like you’ve crushed his biggest dreams.

“Fiona…as in an ogre? He says the word like it’s filthy like he’s never even wanted to say it out loud.

“Yep! I could even add some fake dirt on my body, really make it realistic…”

Ben’s just staring at you, his face still frozen in disbelief. “Naw…nah, you didn’t just say that.”

He waves a hand up and down in front of you like he’s trying to wipe the thought from his mind.

“Babe, we’re supposed to look good, not…swampy.”

With a grin, you roll your eyes and you eventually head toward the dressing room, pulling on the first costume in his pile that he gave you to throw on.

Of course, it's a flirty Snow White costume; a corset with puff sleeves and tiny skirt, knee-high socks and a headband. When you step out, Ben’s mouth drops again, but this time with a grin that spreads across his face.

“See now that is what I’m talkin’ about,” he drawls, sliding a hand around your waist, fingers tracing the fabric. “Got me forgettin’ my own name…”

You roll your eyes, swatting his hand away. “Ben, it’s just Snow White!”

“Just Snow White?” he repeats, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m thinkin’ you’re the finest Snow White.” His fingers drift just a bit too low, making you laugh as you smack his hand away again.

Back in the dressing room, you slip into the next one, a green Tinkerbell dress that’s even shorter and lined with sparkles.

You don’t even have to walk out fully before Ben’s already there, grinning like he’s been waiting for hours.

“Look at you, my lil’ pixie…” He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close, lips brushing your ear. “Darlin’, I don’t think I’m gonna let you wear this one outta my sight.”

“Are you even paying attention to the costumes or are you just looking for excuses?” you tease.

You're trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as his eyes practically undress you on the spot.

“Alright, alright.” He laughs, backing off as you return to the dressing room one more time to pull on the cop outfit.

His eyes roam over every inch, pausing at the handcuffs dangling from your fingers and the baton tucked into your belt, wrapped around your hips.

“Oh, hell yeah,” he mutters, his gaze darkening. He steps up, his hands back on your waist, fingers digging in a little tighter.

“You’re arrestin’ me, right? Pleaseeee say you’re here to arrest me.”

“You need to behave if we're gonna get out of this store with a costume for us,” you say, laughing as he tugs you closer, his eyes glued to the baton you’re tapping on his shoulder.

“Not a chance, babe.” He grins, leaning in. “Now, why don’t I go grab that badge of yours so I can behave just a lil worse…”

You shove him off with a scoff and an eye roll but that smile on your face deceived your annoyed expression.

You had a little plan schemed, all look you’d picked, your surprise masterpiece:

a head-to-toe roach costume with long, wiry legs, little antennae, and bug eyes on top.

You wriggle into the thick styrofoam costume, taking a deep breath before stepping out in all your creepy-crawly glory.

“Benny?” you call in a sing song voice, trying to keep a straight face. “Got the perfect costume.”

He turns, expecting another flirty outfit, and instead just stands there, blinking.

He’s completely silent.

A whole ten seconds pass before he finally clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

“…Nah, babe,” he says, voice almost pitying. “Nah, this…this just ain’t right. Not right at all.”

You hold up your arms and wiggle the little roach legs at him, the same way you wiggled in the Snow White costume.

“What, it’s not cute?”

“I- baby, look- you know I love you…” he starts, trying and failing to keep from laughing as he waves at you. “But I just can’t- I can’t even look at you right now. That’s straight-up trauma in a costume.” He finally lets out a snort, covering his face with his hands.

Finally, after giving him a good laugh, you change into the last one, the one you’ve both been waiting for.

It’s an angel costume with a touch of elegance: a top made of shimmering gold metal feathers that shine under the store lights, a golden headpiece that makes you look almost ethereal, and long, graceful wings. The skirt flares out in layers of white and gold, making you look like you’ve stepped straight out of a dream.

When you step out, Ben’s quiet, the devilish grin on his face replaced by something a little softer, his breath hitching a bit, his gaze a little more serious as he takes you in.

“Now this,” he says, moving closer, reaching for your hand. “This is somethin’ else, darlin’. You look exactly what you are, an angel.”

“Good enough for Halloween?” you ask, giving a little twirl as the golden wings glint in the light.

“Oh, way better.” He nods, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Cause I’ll be right there as your devil.”

He hands you the bag for his costume, a black shirt, unbuttoned pretty low, black pants, and, of course, dark wings and horns.

“We’re gonna make one hell of a pair.” His gaze drifts over you again, taking in every detail.

“Angel like you with a devil like me might just be our best look yet.”

From the look in his eyes, you know this Halloween party is going to be a night to remember.

He paid for the costumes of course, btw.

Only after making a million innuendos about you being an angel.

"Y'know I thought angels were pure, you can get pretty nasty when you-"

"Shut it."

"Yes, m'darlin' ".

As you approach the house party, the bass thumps in your chest, seeing all sorts of costumes around you, some faces familiar to Ben, childhood friends and college peers alike.

After a few shots, a couple of drinking games and slurred conversations, you and Ben melt into each other in the cramped living room, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, fingers dipping dangerously low.

His other hand slips along the curve of your hip, thumb grazing your bare skin, sending a thrill up your spine.

The dim lights reflect off your golden feathers, casting a halo around you, but Ben’s dark eyes are glued to yours, unrepentant, that devilish grin driving you insane.

How in character!

His lips brush your ear, his breath warm and his words slurred and heavy with a bit too much vodka.

“You’re… somethin' else tonight, y’know that?” he murmurs, words melting into the bass line, his drawl thicker, slow and dragging as he pulls you even closer.

“Got every guy in here starin' at my angel…”

You laugh, tipsy, rolling your eyes. “Pretty sure they’re all lookin’ at you, devil boy.”

He just smiles, his hands sliding lower, pressing you tight against him as he lets out a low laugh. “Naw, they’re jealous,” he mumbles, lips grazing your neck as he speaks. “Cause I’m the only one you’re gettin’ all worked up over…”

You feel the heat rising between you two, the music, the drinks, the dim lights casting everything in a hazy blur.

He pulls you in, tilting your face up, his lips finding yours, messy and rough as if he’s been waiting all night to feel your mouth on his.

His hand cradles your face, fingers slipping into your hair, holding your jaw, tugging you close as he kisses you like he’s been starving for it.

He tastes like dark liquor and something a little sweeter, and when you pull away, you can’t tell if it’s his lips that are wet or yours.

He’s breathing heavily, eyes locked on you, that stupid, sinful grin spreading wider.

“Wanna get outta here?” he whispers, voice barely louder than the music.

You don’t even hesitate, nodding as he takes your hand and tugs you through the crowd, your pulse racing.

His grip is tight, his eyes glinting with that familiar, heated look, and you can’t help but laugh as he leads you out of the house and into the warm Floridian night.

You barely make it to outside, stumbling onto the lawn, before his hands are on you again, pressing you against the trunk of a tree, his mouth crashing into yours. You moan into him, hands running over his chest, feeling the heat radiating off him even through his shirt.

“Oh, Ben…” you breathe, leaning back as he drags his mouth along your neck, nipping and teasing, his laughter low and husky against your skin.

“God, you’re perfect,” he slurs, mouth brushing up the line of your jaw as his hand slides around your waist.

You’re ready for him to take you right then and there, leaves crunching underfoot, your fingers slipping under his shirt, tugging it open just a little further when-

“Wait, wait, wait,” he mutters, pulling back suddenly.

His eyes are wide and hazy, his head perks up as he looks over his shoulder for a moment and blinks, his mouth twisting into a grin as he takes your hand again.

“Hold up. Got an even better idea.”

You blink, trying to catch your breath, utterly dazed. “Wha-…what are you talking about?”

He’s already leading you down the sidewalk, back towards the rows of decorated houses, each porch lit up with Halloween lights and pumpkins.

You stop dead in your tracks, your lips still swollen from his kisses, realising he’s actually serious.

“Ben, you’re not-no way, no shot.” You laugh, almost disbelieving as he walks up the first driveway, holding your hand and looking back with that same goofy smile.

No way.

“Trick or treatin'!” he says, completely earnest, already reaching for the doorbell.

He's looking at you all innocent, like he wasn't being handsy with you just 2 minutes ago.

You stare at him, utterly floored. “Ben, you’re seriously…you’re just gonna go trick-or-treating? Right now? Like this?”

“Hell yeah!” he says, as if this is the most normal thing in the world, shrugging.

“I’m in costume, you’re in costume…what’s stoppin’ us?”

Before you can even answer, the door swings open, revealing an elderly woman with a massive bowl of candy. She takes one look at Ben in his black wings, the gold feathers shining around you, and lets out a cackle of laughter.

“Now, I didn’t expect trick-or-treaters this age tonight!” she says, eyes bright with amusement as she holds the candy out. “You two are just adorable. D'ya need a bag, hun?”

Ben grins, holding his hand out. “Thank you, ma’am. I mean…Halloween’s all about free candy, right?”

His boyish cheeky charm works like a treat, even on the old ones. smh.

With a warm chuckle, she drops a couple of candy bars into his hands before handing him a bag before she waves goodbye.

Ben shoves the candy in, already heading down to the next house, practically skipping with that same childish grin.

“C’mon, m'angel, let’s go score some more!”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you trail along beside him.

The night takes on a new light, the alcohol still buzzing through you both as you hit every house on the block, each one adding more candy to Ben’s rapidly filling bag.

He grabs an empty trick-or-treat bag left on a stoop, offering it to you with a dramatic flourish, and before long, you’re both stumbling from house to house, holding hands and giggling like you’re kids again.

Ben feeds you chocolate in between houses, his eyes soft and a little drowsy, that irresistible grin plastered on his face.

The two of you wander holding hands, his devil horns slightly askew, his shirt still messily half-buttoned as you both talk in low, slurred voices.

Somewhere along the way, you both end up sitting on the curb since your feet hurt.

You both go digging through the bags like kids, surrounded by a mix of Reese’s, Milky Ways, and Twix bars.

“Still thinkin’ you’re too old for trick-or-treatin’?” he teases, popping a Snickers in his mouth.

“Fine,” you admit, laughing, leaning into his side. “Guess I can kinda see the appeal.”

He just grins, sliding his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in as the streetlights flicker above you, pressing soft kisses to your hair.

In the quiet night, surrounded by candy wrappers and the warm glow of Halloween night, you’re perfectly happy, just you, your devil, and a bag full of treats.

There was nothing sweeter than spending Halloween with Ben <33

[perpetualfox]

Salvation - König x GN!Reader [NSFW]

Warnings: Fuck Or Die, Heavy Dub-Con, Rough-Handling, Knife-Play, Fear of Death, Use of Stimulants

Wordcount: 1009

@bunny-extract posted this and I blacked out. When I woke up, I found this on my laptop screen. Enjoy.

[Guys, I'm not kidding with this one, the dub-con is heavy. This is probably the closest I'll ever come to non-con. Take that into account.]

→The man loomed above you, a hulking figure that blotted out the weak, dusty blue of the sky. He knelt, one knee braced firmly against your sternum, pinning your body with frightening ease to the uneven, rocky ground. Jagged rocks and pebbles dug into your flesh as he pressed you down, marring your back with deep indentations. You could feel your skin tearing against the rough edges; blood leaking from the wounds and pain lighting up your nerves. You thrashed beneath him, but it was like struggling against a wall of iron.

→“Ah, ah, ah,” he hissed, “Mach das nicht.”

→The cold tip of a knife kissed the side of your throat, and you stilled, a terrible, hollow pit opening in your stomach. The chill of the blade spread through you, infecting you with an icy terror that surged through your veins with each frantic pulse of your heart.

→He was going to kill you.

→“Sag mir, wo sind deine Freunde?”

→You stared up into his face—or what passed for his face: a ratty mask—the dark fabric tattered and bleach-burned beneath the slits through which his dark eyes gleamed. It was torn and stained with sweat and dust and…worse.

→“I-I don’t—”

→The tip of the knife bit a little deeper into your throat. A hot bead of blood welled beneath the tip, fattening until it rolled down to collect and cool in the hollow of your throat. Tears flooded your eyes, blurring the nightmare that loomed above you into an indistinct smudge.

→“Please! Please don’t! I-I-I don’t understand!”

→He scoffed, his eyes rolling skyward. When he spoke, he did so slowly, as though he thought you terribly stupid. He formed each word very carefully, his accent curling about the vowels, each syllable accompanied by a tap on the butt of the knife. A threat and a promise.

→“Where. Are. Your. Friends?”

→“I-I don’t…I don’t have…?”

→The knife bit in just little deeper, the blood now trickling down your neck in a thin stream. “Don’t play dumb.”

→A sob tore free from deep within your chest as you writhed beneath him; a wet, wretched sound. “I swear! I swear!”

→You flashed him your hands—empty and trembling; harmless. He leaned back, tilting his hips forward as his eyes raked over your body, really taking in your appearance for the first time—the scrapes and bruises marring your face and limbs; your clothing, rumpled and dirty; lacking any sort of insignia that might denote your company or rank; the way you cowered beneath him, your eyes not trained on him, seeking out weakness, but flitting about wildly, desperately searching for a means of escape.

→A civilian?

→His head cocked to the side; a dog taking a keen interest in a strange new toy. Though he did not withdraw the knife, his demeanor shifted.

→“Oh, Mäuschen. You’re a long way from where you belong.” You could hear the smile in his voice, cruel and sharp, but it did not reach his flat, dead eyes.

→A bullet whizzed by, and you flinched, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. He threw his head back and laughed, a terrible sound, dark as oil and thick as tar, “You’re afraid, Schatzi.”

→He leaned in, tucking his head into the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply, as though he could smell the fear on you. His eyes were wide and wild, pupils blown out so large they nearly swallowed his iris whole. Only when he’d leaned in had you caught the thinnest strip of green circling that deep, void black. Between that and the jittery, twitching of his shoulders, you were sure he was high on something—some stimulant or another coursing through him—blowing his brains out the back of his skull.

→Another bullet zipped by, cutting a chunk clean out of the wall. The man didn’t blink, even as you bit back a scream.

→“Ah. Someone knows we’re here,” he said, his tone shockingly matter of fact.

→He leaned in a little closer, the sour smell of him—sweat and blood and gunpowder—washing over you. “Beg me,” he whispered, the rough material of his mask brushing against the shell of your ear, “Beg me to save your life.”

→You just stared up at him, your eyes huge and wet. He surged forth, your face slotting neatly into his palm. His fingers dug into your cheeks, smooshing them together with a thick thumb and forefinger, “I said, ‘BEG!’”

→Hot tears slid down your face, flowing over his fingers, “P-Please, save me!”

→His bruising grip relented, the rough pad of his thumb grazing over your cheek in a misguided attempt to comfort you.

→“Such a good little thing you are, yes? Yes. Now, stay put.”

→The weight on your chest vanished, and you gasped for breath, coughing as the dust in the air tried to settle in your lungs. Your dirty fingers curled around your throat; your blood-soaked flesh slippery beneath your fingers. As you struggled to sit up, the big man turned, slinging the rifle from his back, and setting it up atop a low-slung wall of crumbling stone.

→When he was satisfied with his position, he grabbed for you. Taking you by the scruff of the neck, he half-dragged you forward, pressing your back against the wall. He kicked your legs form under you, letting you drop like a sack of stones into the rubble at his feet. His hand fisted into your hair, pressing your face between his legs. His hips kicked forward with an eager, greedy air. Even through the thick canvas of his pants, you could feel what lay, thick and throbbing beneath them.

→God, he’s massive.

→You braced your hands against his knees, using what little leverage you had to push yourself back, “B-But…I thought…”

→He glanced down at you, drinking in your horrified expression. The skin around those dead-man’s eyes crinkled and you realized with a sick jolt, that he was smiling.

→“Oh, not for free, Schatzi. You’ll need to make it worth my while.”

Translations:

→Mach das nicht - Don't do that

→Sag mir, wo sind deine Freunde? - Tell me, where are your friends?

→Mäuschen - Mousie

→Schatzi - Treasure

[thelovelybitten]

more loonatics headcanons / shenanigans...

i've been on such a binge watch of lu that I just need to post abt it okay leave me alone

BUT I'VE NOTICED THINGS !!! (this is s2 ep4) !! you kind of get an insight of what they all like to do and things they enjoy with these bedroom stills.

ACE:

obviously: likes carrots, cute lil bunny.

HIS LIL DOORMAT DJSNGJSDNJK

i couldn't zoom in enough to see what's on his monitor but you know he likes to watch shows before bed. relatable content.

the fact he's got two side tables as well gives me eating in his bed vibes but also he'd be clean abt it. i also think he'd be a big comic book reader. not sure what, but he would be. I'll let y'all decide.

speaking on that, there's a shelf with books on the far right so yeah. i think he'd also read manga bc of his anime complex. he may also keep some sort of CDs ? maybe vinyls ???

i know this man keeps katanas and a dartboard in his room.

he's a snowboarder !!!! THAT'S SO COOL. he must be a god bc this man is AGILE.

he's got a skyline view PHEWWWWW rich ass mf

also. an aquarium on his right (our left) which is so fun I wonder what kinds of marine life they'd keep!!!

I'm also not sure what the compartment behind his head is for but I think its a closed-off bookshelf or space for his knick-knacks. i also see a fireplace too but idk how logical that is lol

LEXI:

NOW WHY SHE SLEEPING IN A HAMMOCK WHEN THE GIRLIE COULD HAVE A QUEEN SIZED BED ??? she's quirky like that ig. whatever makes her comfy. (I know she'd upgrade, I just know. just bc she can sleep anywhere doesn't mean she's always comfortable.)

a phone/pager by her bed is so real

THE WALLPAPER IS BEACHY IT'S SO CUTE

she's a SKIIER AND A SURFER. WHAT CAN'T SHE DO. (seasickness who)

cabinet obvi for storage, idk why she'd have anything important in there besides old childhood items it's so high up???

lower shelves are for books and things maybe. or video games.

AND DO YOU SEE THE AQUARIUM ??? THIS CONFIRMS THAT LEXI AND ACE HAVE NEIGHBOURING BEDROOMS AND NO ONE CAN CHANGE MY MIND. there has to be some type of barrier/wall between the two tanks for privacy reasons but I'M DEAD GNFDGNDJKFNJDFNKHK MY BABIES

opposing skyline views so iconic... i know she takes mad insta pictures (or duck takes them) to get good sunset shots

i believe the items on the table are her laptop, a makeup bag andddd maybe a clutch purse? just a guess bc they're so tiny.

laptop makes sense. it'd be hard but she could still try to get an education on the side??? lots of work for a girl but she's a boss like that.

makeup for obvious reasons

clutch purse for nights out

SLAM:

THE WAY I'D BE SO SCARED FOR THAT WEIGHT TO DROP ON MY HEAD. SLAM IS A TROOPER WTF

I remember sumth abt that cylinder thingy on the left but I can't remember what it's for yet. will update when the ep comes.

MANS IS AN INTELLECTUAL !! those are all comic books (like ace, they bond) and language workbooks.

the poster of pizza is SO REAL OF HIM

there's a teeny tiny chute beside his door and I wonder what it's for. maybe it's a scanner? idk

light above his head is also...a choice.

i'd like to think that the things at the end of his bed are air purifiers and that slam has some sort of breathing issue when he goes to sleep. maybe he grinds his jaw or is a mouth breather;;;

computer for gaming tings and other endeavours

A WHOLE ASS TREADMILL YEAH BUDDY U STAY IN SHAPE.

i know this man doesn't have a WHOLE ASS DRUMSTICK IN HIS BED. but makes sense. he totally eats in bed BUT IS MESSY ABT IT. duck and lexi HATE IT IT'S NASTY HAHAH they ask him to switch his sheets and vacuum almost everyday

DUCK:

THIS MAN IS SO CONCEITED I CAN'T Y'ALL.

but like ace, he also has a tv by his bed I know he and lexi would watch romcoms together

K-DRAMAS???? SPECIFICALLY SINGLES INFERNO (only bc s3 just came out, it's on the brain) duck just boasts abt how he's better looking than all of the other males while lexi is very much about the relationships/drama

his little peek-a-boo window behind his head is so cute :"))))

I have no god damn clue what that thing is beside him on the left but I'm sure it's important

but he wears headphones to sleep !!! must need white noise or rain to sleep

control panel for his lights and other digitally controlled shit in his room

THIS MAN HAS SO MANY MAGAZINES AND NEWSPAPER ARTICLES ABOUT HIMSELF AND THE LOONATICS (but only bc he is in them, thank yew) I also think he'd carry a lot of fashion magazines too. things that are in. the second a fad ends he's done w it

I'm assuming this is an arcade game setup, but i think he'd love Mario kart :) him and tech love to battle on this but move it to the main room bc duck thinks tech is cheating bc "the screen is two small".

i know this man would sleep with mf silk sheets and a fleece comforter he's a bougie bitch

computer for obvious reasons

REV:

i had to include all four shots bc he is a sleepwalker/runner LOOK AT HOW CUTE HE IS ;U;

it looks like he sleeps in a casket-like bed (hence, the lid is open top centre) I believe he only has this open when he's awake so idk who forgot to close it. it needs to be closed so that when rev does actually get up and sleepwalks, he's contained. the last thing the loonatics want to wake up to is the house completely trashed bc rev had a dream he was running from something. so casket bed it was.

that's also why. he doesn't sleep with sheets. if he trips and falls oh lord. therefore he wears super warm pjs in the winter to not freeze to death

he's got a ton of books, rightfully so, I think he and tech would share this bookcase because it would have different manuals, blueprints and miscellaneous mechanical guides. robot guides. that too. i also think rev would be that person who re-reads his childhood books over and over again and not get sick of them ever

there is also a treadmill in this room I just know it

a tv as well. idk where, but I hc it's there.

TECH:

thanks for giving me nothing to work with here

I kind looked forward into the ep and there's a smidge of the bedroom in a frame but idk what the other shit could be

but I know his room is very clean. it's SPOTLESS. everything is organized and well put together.

I'm going to ignore the fact he suckles his thumb bc this man is 24 years old BYE

there's a whole bunch of ai robots in there to do anything he wants.

he is also the other loonatic who has their own bathroom. he only got it bc he won the straw draw. well, ace won technically, but gave it to tech bc he was the oldest and would keep it in the best shape. duck still hasn't forgiven him for it.

he shares it with lexi since she's the only lady in the house :) ain't no way she shares with the boys.

the others share the other bathroom. one more gets installed later but the other four are SOL

tech also has a nice walk-in closet

he needs to take melatonin b4 bed bc this man is noctournal

has drones scattered on shelves, ones he's built and ones he's collected from professors and other inventors

AAAAND THAT'S IT. THANKS FOR COMING TO ANOTHER TED TALK LOL I'MMA GO FINISH S2 XOXO

[goatcheesecak3]

Maybe a story where the reader helps clean and patch up Gavin after a rough bar fight.

Gavin Ellis X F!reader

Fic type: fluff

Warnings: mention of physical altercation, blood, alcohol

Summary: Your boyfriend, Gavin, comes home drunk out of his mind and it's your job to patch him up.

A/N hello! sorry it took me so long to get around to this, but i hope you enjoy it! if anyone wants the m!reader version just let me know! also, sorry if the formatting is weird, i'm posting this from my laptop lmao

Midnight. Gavin had gone out for drinks with Ray a few hours ago, and he still wasn’t home. Initially, y/n hadn’t been worried, she knew Gavin wouldn’t risk going anywhere too sleazy with Ray, not after the last time he had roped Ray into that world. Unbelievably, even being used as a drug mule by Gavin wasn’t enough to make Ray give up on him. They needed eachother in certain ways, Ray kept Gavin grounded and sensible, and Gavin made sure Ray actually had fun – y/n was more than grateful that her asshole boyfriend had at least one responsible and kind friend. However, as the minutes ticked on by, she felt herself growing anxious. What if Gav had left Ray to go see some of his old “work associates”? what if he’d gotten himself arrested? Oh god, what if he was dead in a ditch somewhere? What if- *CLUNK * - the front door opened.

“y/n? are you up?” she heard a familiar voice call softly from the hall. It was Ray, with a nearly comatose Gavin slung over his shoulder like a bindle.

“Christ! How much did the silly prick drink?” y/n gasped.

“Enough to get in a punch up with a guy twice his size” Ray answered, his voice shy, but light hearted, as though he was unsure if he was allowed to laugh.

“Just dump him on the sofa, Ray, I’ll take him up to bed after I clean that blood off his face”

Ray obliged.

“You’re a saint for putting up with him,” y/n chuckled, reaching into her purse, “here, get yourself a cab home, your mum must be worried sick by now”

…

“Agh… what the…” Gavin winced as he came back around

“Shhh, don’t be a baby” y/n teased, dabbing a cut on his lip with an alcohol pad.

“When did I get hom- OW! Can you cut that out?!”

“about ten minutes ago, Ray carried you here”

Gavin’s tired eyes filled with dread.

“did he tell you about…”

“the fistfight? Yeah, it might’ve come up” y/n said, raising her eyebrows and shooting him a pissed off look.

Gavin knew he fucked up, he’d promised y/n he’d stay on the straight and narrow, he knew how much it upset her when he got into fights. He was on thin ice with the law as it was, he should have been keeping his head down and his nose clean- easy as pie in theory, but when some cunt at the bar shouts “Oi Gav, yer new bird dresses like a slag” it gets particularly difficult.

“Babe, it’s not what you think, this dickhead was saying all sorts of horrible shit about you, I was like… defending your honour” Gavin stumbled over his words, desperately trying to explain himself.

Y/n’s expression softened.

“You’re an idiot, Gav. I don’t need you to beat people up for me. That guy probably didn’t even know who I was, more than likely he just wanted to get a rise out of you” She sighed as she applied some ointment – more gently this time – onto a scrape on his cheek.

“C’mon, don’t I get any credit at all for trying to stick up for you? Look at how busted up my lip is!” Gavin whined slightly, a cheeky grin forming on his face.

Y/n attempted to stay serious, but she couldn’t help herself from smiling.

“If I kiss it better will you pack it in?”

“Maybe”

She leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss onto Gavin’s still slightly bloody lips.

“better?”

“much better” Gavin grinned, his eyes droopy and a big dopey smile plastered on his face.

“c’mon you big softie, let’s get you some rest. You’ve got a lovely headache to look forward to tomorrow” Y/N teased, taking Gavin’s hand and kissing his cheek lovingly. God he was an idiot, but a cute idiot.

[fabdante]

WIP Game!

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Tagged by: @robinainthood (thank you so much I've been wanting to do another one of these since the first one I did and I just got my laptop back so perfect timing! Check out their WIPS here!!)

Fiction

The One Were Kat Gets To Yell At Vergil (DmC)

Catharsis for Someone (TF2)

Retrospect (Samurai Champloo)

Swan Song (DmC)

Tales of Ba Sing Se redux (ATLA/Zutara)

The Mai/Jet dream captivated me (Atla/Mai and Jet)

The Jet Bit (ATLA/Zutara)

The really long Zelda Fic (LoZ/Zelgan)

Playlist for a Three-way with Eve, Lilith, and the Serpent (this is an original poem?)

A bug flew into my ear (this is also an original poem??)

ATLA Champloo (ATLA fic inspired by Samurai Champloo my beloved)

Gweoff Fic 2 Lmao: The Hair Dying One (Total Drama)

The One You Thought of in the Shower Where Snow gets Stuck in a Time Loop (Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes??)

The One where Kat needs to tell Vergil's Parents that he may or may not be dead and may or may not be king of hell also that their sons been a super natural being this whole time an-it's awkward (DmC)

Zutara Playlist Fic (ATLA/Zutara)

A Zelgan Fic I Started Editing About Bath Houses That I May Never Post (LoZ)

the one where Dante wakes up to his hook up cleaning his trailer for no reason and it's weird but she's cute so its fine probably (DmC)

Meta

Eva, Sparda, and the boys

Verat and The Divine

V is Kat theory and some thoughts on Downfall

My Long Running Desire For A Good Samurai Champloo Essay (this is actually 4 separate WIPs so if you want to get real spicy you can specify between: Take 3, An attempt at a conclusion, some points on Journey as Growth, Another misc unit of paragraphs)

Essay no one asked for on spiderverse and grief mostly because I'm obsessed with the black out kingpin causes

Essay no one asked for about why Channel Zero upset me

Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes Meta Post Roulette (i have like 3 of these on the same subject you're just going to get a random part of one of them)

Fics I Answered For Last Time But Am Still Writing

the lost boy fic im still writing because i got angry (Lost Boys) (the bit of WIP i posted last time)

Tagging: Not a person for every WIP I apologize sdfghjk but if you want to do it please tag me I want to see your wips!! Also tagging @thevampireauthoress @ro-blaze @mocosa-media

[glamlet69]

September Prompts Day 1

Hello! This is a based on the prompt "Coffee smell" from this wonderful post! I'm more or less writing these to warm myself up for Whumptober. This is a little thing about how Castiel likes the smell of coffee :)

Castiel loved the smell of coffee. He had never told anyone that before, not even Sam and Dean, but it was true. 

There was just something about it. The way it filled up whole rooms and enveloped them in its warm embrace. The way that it instantly put someone in a good mood when it was tasted. Of course, Castiel knew that it was technically considered a drug, and it was highly addictive, but it also didn’t seem to have any effects that were too harmful, other than the fact that if Sam drank too much he got jittery.

He had started to like it when he was human, working in the gas station. There were many things about that job that he truly loved. Talking to people, cleaning the machines, stocking the shelves. Making sure everything was in its proper place so that customers could pick up what they wanted without searching for it. He loved talking to the customers too. Humans had always fascinated Cas, and it gave him an excuse to learn their individual stories, and in turn learn how to be a little more human himself.

Old truckers would roll through at three in the morning and sigh in relief at the smell of coffee Cas had just refreshed in anticipation for them. They would fill up their travel mug, grab a bag of jerky or a muffin and make pleasant conversation with Cas while he rang them up. 

Sometimes he got mean customers, but Cas figured it was just because they hadn’t gotten their coffee yet. 

Ever since Sam and Dean had moved into the bunker, there was coffee made every morning. Sam would make it first, since he would wake up several hours before Dean. He would come into the industrial kitchen, completely dressed and ready for the day. He was never in any hurry. He would greet Cas (who had more or less claimed the kitchen as his place while the boys were sleeping) and ask if he wanted any. 

Cas would usually decline. As much as he loved the smell, he couldn’t really taste much of anything. He had once described food tasting like molecules to the boys, and it was still true. Only now it was worse because he knew what it had tasted like to them. 

It had taken him several weeks to get used to the bitter taste of coffee. But because he liked the smell so much, and because other people seemed to enjoy it so immensely, he kept trying it until one day he loved the taste of it. For the rest of his time working at the gas station it had been added to his routine to have a cup in the first hour of his shift while he turned everything on.

Sometimes, when he was feeling extra nostalgic, he would take Sam up on the offer. It tasted like ash every time, but if he basked in the smell enough, and thought hard enough about it, it almost tasted good again.

Dean would stumble in a few hours later, dead to the world. Sam would let him make his own pot because he would usually finish one himself, or put it in the fridge for iced coffee later. 

Sam had actually introduced Cas to iced coffee, which at the time had very much confused the angel.

Once Dean took his first sip, he was alive again. Unlike his brother, he would never offer any to Cas. Maybe it was because he always turned him down. Maybe it was because he remembered what it tasted like to Cas. Either way, Cas didn’t mind. 

Then they would all sit at the little table, Sam with his laptop and his fourth cup of coffee, Dean with his fresher, hotter cup and a newspaper, and Cas with nothing, sitting quietly.

Dean would often look across at Cas and ask him how his night had been, and Cas would respond with something along the lines of, “It was fine,” and they would fall back into comfortable silence again. 

It was those quiet moments, sitting around the little metal table, the smell of coffee wafting from Dean’s fresh cup, that Cas felt truly at ease. These moments were relatively rare, but they played out the same way every time. He wondered if Sam and Dean cherished these moments as much as he did, or if this was just another moment in time. The idle points between danger.

“What are you thinking, Cas?” Dean asked in one of these quiet moments, lowering his paper briefly and looking at him over it. Sam ignored them. He tended to get in a zone when researching cases.

“I like the smell of coffee.” Cas said simply, gazing back at Dean, who was holding a steaming mug of it in his hands.

“Do you want some? You know, just to hold? Or smell? Or whatever?” Dean asked. 

This was new. But it was welcome.

“Okay.” Cas said with a small smile.

[mcalhenwrites]

I'm behind on posting patreon rewards (I told myself I'd like to aim to do them every month on the 2nd), but I got sick this week so they are delayed. I got sick this week and went to urgent care. Tests were negative for covid and strep. I'm still recovering from that, though I'm much better than I was Thursday. Though that overlapped with something else, because... I started having severe pain and almost ended up going to the ER, but I delayed and called my OBGYN instead. They said to keep an eye out for certain other symptoms before I rush off to ER. Then I work weekends. That said, I did some sketches today while at work, so I can post those as rewards. I've also been steadily poking away at the Geckos side stories as well, so I can share some excerpts of those as an exclusive early glimpse at what is coming! I hope to have that done this week. I'll be a bit busier since I picked up a shift Friday and have plans Tuesday night and Wednesday for lunch, but hopefully I get some time to write. I plan to take my grumbly old laptop in tomorrow to work to do some writing since it'll be pretty dead aside from a few dogs coming in and cleaning, so I'll work on inbox prompts + Geckos side stories. :D

[veradragonjedi]

85, 20 and 30 for the weird asks pls (:

20. Preferred place to write (i.e., in a notebook, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it-notes, etc.)?

Ngl, when I first read this, I thought it meant where — physically! I was gonna say, my back garden, in the forest, on the swing at the park, somewhere outside when it's warm.

Anyway, I've written all my 300k words (including unposted works) of fanfic on my phone! In my notes app- because the laptop that I was supposed to receive exploded (hyperbole...). But it serves me well :)) I have a Samsung/Android so I get to italicise, embolden, undo/redo, colour words, it's not so bad!!!

30. Places that you find sacred?

I am not religious, but if there's a way to be intensely spiritual without being religious at all, it's me. Personally:

The 400 year old tree at the centre of the forest, with a swing hanging from it — the amount of people having grown up with that tree, swinging for generations, writing there stories there like I'm doing now!

The graveyard surrounding the church near my house, purely for aesthetic reasons. I also know the guy that cleans the graves, and I think that's an important role in society. Caring for the dead and appreciating them is a huge deal in so many cultures — why not Western??

Mariana trench — we don't need to go down there to know this.

The horizon line, the one that nobody can reach because the closer you get the further it moves.

:)

85. Fairy tales or mythology?

OOOOOOO mythology probably. I obsessed over dragons for ten to twelve years of my life, and they're still a huge part of my life. I had that dragonology book that signalled that I was neurodivergent definitely... I loved Greek and Roman mythology for a very long time, and loved figuring out how they were so different but so similar. Viking mythology was a favourite for a while, and I collected poems and stories. The latest chapter of my largest fanfic — BBB — is called Odyssey! It still lives with me.

[chaifootsteps]

I was just thinking about I've really never written anything particularly bad before. Not like in a bragging "Everything I write is amazing " way, but more just in a morality kinda way. Like, yeah, I've written smut, but nothing egregious. No questionable age gaps, no dead dove don't eat, no non con or even dub con, nothing. All my stuff is about as squeaky clean as smut can get....

then I remember how when I was 18, I wrote a incest fic about the Wild Kratt brothers fucking in wolf creature power suits and submitted it to some tumblr blog that posted art and shit about that ship, which has since been deleted I think?... like I didn't even nessecarily ship it, my fuckin teenage brain just was lookin at all of this shit and said "Hey yo, let's write furry incest about this shit."

And I realized that... no one knows it was me that did that. Litterally, the only copy of that fic was written on tumblr, so I dont even have it saves anywhere on my old phones or laptops. I specifically asked the person who ran the blog to keep me anonymous too, so unless they just suddenly decide to out me for no damn reason, no one's gonna know it was me.

And honestly, I hope to keep it that way. Not even necessarily because I'm ashamed of it or that I hate myself for writing it, because despite what it was and my skill level at that time, I was genuinely really proud of how it turned out, and I feel like it was a step towards me improving my writing skills. I want to keep it secret strictly because I don't want to be known as the Krattcest furry knot fic author.

I plan to take this to my grave, and this is probably the only time I will ever talk about it. I will sooner admit to homicide than to being the one that wrote the Krattcest knot fic. You couldn't waterboard this shit out of me.

We've all got demons, Anon. Mine is the Hamtaro thing I wrote when I was 12.

[pbandjesse]

We just left five guys after seeing two houses. And it was fun! My voice continues to be gone but despite that annoyance, today ended up being great. I really couldn't have asked for a better day, all things considered.

And!! It is my husband's birthday! Congratulations James for joining me in being in our early thirties! I woke up a little early so I could sit with them and open one of the three packages I made for them.

We started with the card I made them. It's a victorian purse card and I don't have space to include it in this post but I will make a post if it's own. James said they could tell how long it took and really appreciated how I tried to emulate notes being passed as a child.

The opened the first gift and it was sock and a new hat but also the shirt I design for them. "Lucky to have the best wife" with a bunch of pictures of my face. They laughed so hard. I wish I got it on video it was such a sweet reaction. They wore it for the rest of the day and looked so cute. I'm glad they liked it.

I had to leave soon for work though. After a few extra hugs I headed to camp.

I got stuck in some traffic but it was okay. I got to camp and drove around making sure the last things were set and ready. Celia was waiting at the office and I would let us in so I could get some things printed. She was not sure if the eyrie was unlocked and so she wanrd to wait. Despite me saying we haven't been locking it. But it's fine.

Elizabeth was a great support today. I was nervous about my voice but I was also hopeful. I went to the hacienda to wait for parents around 9. And they slowly made their way in. I kept apologizing for my voice. I was trying my best to be clear even if I wasn't able to be loud. I know everyone was struggling to hear me though. We realized pretty quickly that while in person they couldn't hear me, on the walkie I was more intelligible. So I got the idea to use two walkies as a mic. Elizabeth was not sure because of feedback but I was sure I could figure it out.

After walking the parents around and getting them settled I went to get the last parent who was at the pool house still. I walked her up and went to deliver popcorn that was dropped off to the Pueblo. And then I went back to the office to ask Elizabeth to print more maps and schedules for me. Because my laptop was plugged into the screen at the hacienda so I didn't have time to go back and forth. She helped me out and I was off.

And then the bus was there! Except they went to the wrong place. Ah well. Once they got to me they all came in and sat down and were so sweet.

I told them I could not get louder and I had a plan. And we tired the walkie and it worked!! Elizabeth was standing at the door trying not to laugh because I was also just being funny with an the PowerPoint. I was pretending to be a stand up comedian with my timing.

And it honestly gave me to much power after not being able to talk for almost a week. And so I talked for a half hour and honestly had the best time.

Even though the school came 15 minutes late I was able to get us back on time and we were able to do the fibers program. But at this point my voice was dead dead. I couldn't even really whisper, you can't hear me if there is any other noise. So instead I wrote down some instructions on paper and held it up like a ring girl. Just walking through the space and stopping so the 2nd graders could point and finger read. And then they would go "got it.". Thumbs up. And they were just great.

I would have to give some announcements over the walkie but I was very squeaky and struggling. I tried my best.

During the first program I cleaned the room so that the other school that was there today could have a horse hair free lunch. Then I was dropping off the check and getting my book. I posted up on a log in between where my programs were happening and it was just beautiful and I was feeling good.

Mostly. I am still coughing. But once I'm out in the nice air I feel a lot better. Plus it was just a beautiful day.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. Everyone was doing great. I had to type out what I needed to say on my phone because I was so quiet. And that's when the main teacher apologized for being a little scatter brained. And she let me know that the raven group has no chaperone. Which means 8 second graders had been following the map and schedule by themselves all day. I was just like. Oh. Well they did a great job. But inside I was face palming and just being like. How did that happen and how did it take us 2 hours to notice. They did a great job though and honestly I would have this group every day. Excellent kids.

At the end of the day I went to the hacienda to start moving chairs and while I quietly did that while the kids were packing up and finding their things some of the parents, and then the kids too, started helping carry the chairs outside!! I hate asking groups to help but man does it make it faster. And the chairs weigh nothing because they are aluminum. So even the kids carrying two got to feel big and strong but no one needs to be worried about them getting hurt.

Nick, Sarah, Celia, and Dachelle came and helped clean all the tables and swept while I got all my materials packed up and out outside. They would go do a trash run while I started driving around and collecting my stuff.

Celia would join me and helped me pack my car before she went to go feed the animals.

I went back to arts and crafts to unpack and start repairing things. That's the big plan tomorrow. Some stuff needs to be replaced but mostly it's maintenance. As this was my last feildtrip of the semester.

I was a little upset to find one of my space heaters for some deer fur on the prongs of the cord and was burning a little. So dangerous. So I got that handled but it was a little scary!

Once everything was inside I started repairing some fire sticks. But at 330 I decided that was enough for the day.

I went back to the office and Alexi let me know there was a child abuse training I needed to do. But it wasn't loading on my old laptop so I promised to do that when I went home

And that I was leaving a few minutes early so I could go and get a pumpkin pie for my husband.

I went to the grocery store so I could go to their bakery, which is always very nice. Camp goes there for everyone's birthday. I first found a pumpkin pie dip?? Apparently they are known for it, and I got the recommended swedish ginger snaps to go with it. Then at the bakery counter I apologized for my whispers and ordered a pie. Which looked great. The boy at the counter whispered back which I thought was delightful. I love that that is what people keep doing. Just "oh we are whispering!!" It just seems very kind even if it's not necessary.

I went home after that. Got stuck in some traffic. Had to drive directly into the sun. But it was okay. I got home a little after 430.

And I was so happy to see my birthday bean husband. I gave them the treats, they opened the other presents. They loved the rocket notebook and the fidget and keychain tools I gave them. They also really liked the sterling frisbee charm I got for their necklace. Which I think looks so cute.

I would have to go jump into that training course. Which was just an hour. I did it very quickly while I also was cutting my cuticles. And when I was done it was basically time to go.

We went to see two houses tonight. One I liked a lot, though it was small, and one that was horrible.

The first one I not only liked the house, I liked the block. It has a community association building two doors down with a really cool mosaic mural outside. And no broken buildings at all. The inside though was very funny to me. It was yellow! Almost every room has the walls and ceiling painted yellow. It needs work, but only a little. It does need appliances but that isn't unusual for the ones were seeing. Will just have to factor that all in. But I really did like it. It has the landing space like the first one. It didn't have a finished basement but it did have a little backyard and backs up to a green space. The floor upstairs had a slope and it only has a shower in a really small bathroom, but I could see us being really happy there.

The second house though. This was not good. While the bedrooms and bathrooms were bigger, it has so much water damage. On the ceilings of both floors. It was kind of a mess. Like it seems poorly flipped but then just not taken care of while they waited for it to see. Not good. I also didn't like the block as much. It was honestly to dark outside. Ah well. Was still fun. We're seeing another place on Friday!

James and me decided to go to five guys for dinner. Which was fun but also they put to much seasoning on the fries. Still good. And I enjoyed James's company even if I had to text them every time I had something to say because I couldn't be heard.

It is frustrating. I feel like I'm straining so hard to get my voice out. And while it was better today then yesterday I for sure did not help it by using it so much. I need to have a voice by Friday. It's going on the right direction, I hope.

We are home now. When we parked James ripped down the broke branch on the tree outside that kept scraping the roof of the car. Then we flipped it off and were very dramatic. Now we are eating pumpkin pie and James is playing a video game. I am ready to go wash my face and go to sleep. My cheeks are flush and I am a bit exhausted.

Tomorrow I have no groups. And I am hoping to work on my program materials and putting them in storage until the spring. And then working on some of the projects Heather asked us to do. I hope it is a chill day where I don't have to talk much. And then I have my ceramics class! I am looking forward to tomorrow. I think it will be a good day.

Sleep well everyone. Be careful out there. And send happy birthday wishes to my husband. Goodnight! I love you!

[stressedlawsecretary]

Today's Focus

04.24.24 - Blergh. It's cold and wet and rainy again today, so my ootd is meant for warmth and comfort more than cuteness. I know I don't have to suffer through a lot more of this weather but I am ready for sun and warm and nice. It was pretty gorgeous yesterday.

Work - It's been dead for a while so left nothing for myself to do and have nothing waiting for me; unless I get asked to do something I'm once again on my own.

Background Noise - I am working my regular remote day today, so technically the background noise will be my DVR. I have plenty to watch on YT but Wednesdays are a bad day for that.

25 videos got watched yesterday, and I'm pretty pleased I managed to finish off a couple of saved groups of videos that have been hanging around a while.

Study - Wednesday is visual study day, which means I don't try to read as a multitask to what else I'm listening to. I also try to focus more on documentary-type videos rather than commentary or lists; to this end, I have the most recent episode of American Experience to watch, focusing on the Love Canal disaster, which happens to be local to me.

I don't think I did exactly as much reading as last week, but I did do a lot: five random articles, a couple on the Horizon/Post Office scandal, an article from an old economics journal called What are Profits?, four of Van Gogh's letters, four 'good news' articles', three other articles from about 20 years ago, including Barbara Ehrinreich's Welcome to Cancerland, and an article from the NIH on anti-transgender legislation and health outcomes.

Extras - I have to clean the catbox and vacuum the carpets; I want to clean my front door as my extra chore today. Takeout day, which is good because after work I'm voting in the special election to replace the congressperson that just stepped down earlier in the year. Planning three episodes of Carranger tonight, plus an episode I have on the DVR of Krapopolis; Freakazoid will be after my self-care, during which I have a podcase (A Killing on the Cape) that I'm listening to right now. Mini-essay is almost done; I have a least one essay to draft, and one to edit and post, plus I have to boot up my ancient ass laptop to do some digital transfers.

[purplepirate123]

I Clean Houses and Write Stuff (sometimes)

Blog Post #2 1/9/2023

I'm not writing right now, and I'm not okay with it.

Technically you could argue that I haven't written regularly in a long time. It wouldn't be much of an argument, given that it's absolutely true.

Sometime in that 2018-2019 pre-pandemic era I wrote what would be the final draft of the book I've been working on since I was 12 years old. And when I say final I don't mean "complete;" I mean final as in it would finally leave my head so that something new could take its place.

Because 15 years is a long-ass time to be working on a book. Especially when it isn't very good.

And something new did take its place, once my those guys were free of the gothic feary world my angsty teen brain concocted. The Something New would be drafted three times, many hours spent pouring over laptop and notebooks, doing the thing I'd loved doing for so long it was beyond a hobby, it was part of who I was, like being right-handed or strawberry blonde. The third draft of this Somethibf was even something that would be one step closer to "finished," maybe even publishable...

But then, it was March of 2020. The weird "Chinese virus" we'd kept hearing rumbles about in the news would reach the shores of the US. Suddenly you could die by breathing the air outside your front door, and every media outlet had a field day with headlines listing death tolls, hospitalozation numbers, and repeating the phrase "nothing will ever be the same again" over and over and over.

I didn't sleep for three months.

I cried -sobbed- and screamed for several weeks straight.

I suffered a back spasm that was so painful I physically couldn't lay flat on the floor, my spine seemingly permanently arched. I was able to get that to let go after hours of yoga videos, but then it moved to my foot and I could barely walk. I stopped being able to eat real food because everything made me sick, and would in turn get dangerously close to becoming pre-diabetic because you aren't actually supposed to live off of cheap protein bars.

And during it all, all I could do was read the news.

And read the news.

And read the news.

That story that I spent so much time with was gone, dead and buried with the first 100,000 people in the US to die of COVID-19 no thanks to our screaming lunatic of a 45th president who was elected into office the year I graduated from college. (Talk about a slap to the face to those looking to enter the world and make something of themselves, especially if you were a woman, queer, Black, an immigrant, trans, pretty much anyone not a straight white male.)

I could barely focus on the books in front of me - I read entire novels that I'd forget the second I closed the back cover. Soon I stopped reading books all together.

A small bright spot emerged when a story idea came me, one that had been rolling about the back of my head for some time. I hammered out a draft in record time in the Fall of 2020 and then... That was gone, too, regardless of how I tried to go back to it, how I tried to work on it, edit it, turn it into something for the world.

"Maybe making more money will help," I thought as I picked up more hours at my then-job.

"Maybe having my own space will help," I thought as we emptied our savings account and liquidated every asset we had so we could buy the house of a dreams in September of 2021, big enough for all our animals and for me and my husband Tim to have our own office spaces. Mine was even painted a delightful shade of purple, complete with overflowing bookshelves and a massive window overlooking the street below behind which my mint green sauder desk sits, waiting.

I don't think I've spent more than 24 hours in here, my office, this space that we purchased with everything we had so it could be mine. We've been here for 16 months now.

Mind you, buying the house was not the plan. At least not yet. Ever since the credit cards got taken care of from pandemic aid (the one good thing that came out of those dark months of death, tears, fear and grief), we'd been planning to move out west, somewhere in Colorado where we could see the mountains and be in a not-red state (news flash: Ohio sucks). But then we found our now house, a beautiful thing that's a hundred-and-some years old with real wood trim, badly finished rooms and generations of stories right in what's become our favorite, artsy district of Cleveland. Lots of mental creative energy has been spent planning: how do we make this ancient place that's been through so much ours? How do we heal it, fix it, honor it's history while bringing it to our modern era?

It's stressful as all hell, not to mention expensive and time consuming, but I've loved it. We have it all planned out; wooden countertops in the kitchen, black tile in the bathrooms, an attic library, a basement game room, a second shower.

I try to tell myself that I haven't been writing because that part of my brain that longs to make things has been making our house our house. Constantly working, picking, problem solving the way it does when I'm drafting.

Part of me believes me.

Part of me wonders if I will ever write again.

After all, writing up until the pandemic was such a part of who I am, it was hard to call it a hobby.

But, is it still?

I don't know.

I don't like not knowing.

***

Flash forward to now, 2023. I've stepped away from the ever demanding customer service desk I've been chained to since I was 17 and am now working for myself, quietly cleaning houses, alone with my music, my thoughts, and the home owner's pets.

It's good work; I'm making more money, and have a lot more time now.

But do I have Grass is Always Greener Syndrome, too?

Am I just thinking, "maybe this atmospheric change will fix my internal problems, because I don't even know where to begin on those?"

It makes me sigh heavily. Perhaps that's why I spend my free time sitting in the living room under a blanket watching true crime docs on Hulu.

[shares-a-vest]

Fruity Four Advent Calendar, Day 7: Coffee Shop AU but make it festive

Prompt List

It’s Christmas 1999 and Steve and Robin work in an internet cafe. They are just two dorks, slinging coffee beans and helping hapless old ladies with their computer problems, all the while fawning over a rockstar and a star reporter, respectively.

I had intended on making this waaay longer but I’ve got total writer's block/brain-mush happening right now (I'm surprised I managed to get something together to post, actually). So if this a totally meh, I'm sorry, please ignore me.

'A Very Y2K Christmas'

"Hey! Earth to dingus!"

Steve snaps out of his lovesick trace at the sight of his co-worker Robin clicking her fingers directly in his face.

"Any more ogling that leather-clad weirdo and you'll curdle that milk," she adds, reaching up to tug his dorky felt Christmas hat further down, thoroughly flattening his fringe under the damn thing. Now his hat hair was going to be impossible to straighten out.

"And what about star journalist, Miss Brainiac? I can tell you are lingering, waiting for her to come in with her pretentious laptop. When she came in yesterday, did you spill milk all over yourself again?" he retorts, setting aside the milk he'd, admittedly, heated far too much.

"I’ll have you know, I talked to her yesterday."

He snorts a laugh. Of course this happened when he wasn't there.

"I asked her why she was in town," Robin explains, straightening up his festive apron like a fussing mother. "She said, staying with her parents and she might stay until New Year to write a quick story."

He wacks her hand away and asks, "About how dumb internet cafes are, with their cheap coffee and clumsy baristas?"

Before Robin can come up with a witty retort, a middle-aged lady comes rushing over, fretting about her computer having a different start-up screen than it did a few days ago.

He makes quick work of the order he’d ruined which, of course, was for the customer in question, who was wearing a leather jacket despite it almost snowing outside. He'd been coming in for about a week and a half now, almost every day, ordering the same thing: a double espresso with three sugars in a takeaway cup. Obviously jet fuel for the amount of writing he seemed to do when he was in the cafe.

Steve tries to ignore Robin’s completely conspicuous ogling as she helps customers with their computers (more tech support than a barista, like Robin ever actually stood still long enough to make a coffee anyway) as he makes his way over to Eddie. He sets the coffee down and awkwardly lingers, fishing in his apron pocket.

"Um, I…" he stutters, producing a garish green flyer featuring the cafe's Christmas specials, supposed 'exotic flavours' that were just the normal crap they sell but in festive packaging. "I’m obligated to give these out."

He sets the leaflet down and waves it away, trying to stay casual.

Eddie looks it over as he asks, "Actually, I was meaning to ask you, man, what cocoa do you recommend? I want to get my uncle some."

"None," Steve answers, folding his arms and causing Eddie's eyes to momentarily flit to his biceps. "The coffee we sell here is awful. Go to the department store down the block."

"You're cheating yourself out of a sale here, Steve," he laughs. He seems to register Steve's questioning eye so he adds with a flash of teeth, "You’re wearing a nametag, dude."

"Oh," Steve says, brushing his hand over his red name tag and chuckling. "Silly me."

He shakes his head, cursing himself internally as he whips around, making a beeline back to the coffee machine, utterly mortified. 

He continues between the register and the coffee machine as a quiet afternoon turns into a dead night. He busies himself with cleaning, periodically looking over at Eddie who is writing between humming and tapping his ring-clad finger on the table. Robin appears, slapping a sheet of paper on the spotless countertop.

"Intel," she says, mischievous and proud. "He’s famous y’know."

She tilts her head in Eddie’s direction.

"And where did you get this?" Steve asks, looking over the paper in spite of himself. She flicks him on the side of the head.

"Computer Fusspot Francine just said her kid listens to his music so I went and looked him up on the pervert computer," she offers proudly. "For the designated pervert computer, the internet is slow as hell in that back corner."

Steve rolls his eyes. There was, in fact, a computer in the cafe commonly referred to by employees as The Pervert Computer, the only machine in the store whose screen was not at all visible from any angle other than the chair plonked at its desk.

"Heavy Metal?" he groans, looking over the paper.

"Hm, yes. A bit of a problem for someone who's been listening to Cher's Believe non-stop all year."

She suggestively side-eyes a very cute picture of Eddie included in the printout where he is smiling brightly despite his leather clothes and wild hair.

Robin suddenly gasps, grabbing Steve's arm.

"Loverboy is leaving!"

Steve rushes over to clear the table next to Eddie before he leaves. He clamours around, almost dropping an empty coffee cup, too busy watching Rockstar Eddie out of the corner of his eye.

"See you tomorrow," Eddie says, ducking into Steve's personal space with a wide grin. He winks.

Steve merely waves, wiggling his finger with a lopsided smile as he walks out the door.

"Explain to me again why you don’t totally suck?" Robin says, materialising right in front of him. Her smugness only lasts a few minutes before Nancy comes in with her laptop bag slung over her shoulder and Robin almost walks directly into the festive spiced tea display.

The following day, Eddie doesn't come in at his usual time which has Steve moping around the cafe, feeling like a promise has been broken despite it being so casual. Nor does Nancy, which makes for a pretty miserable shift, made worse by the fact there is not a damn thing to do as their customers dwindle further the closer they get to Christmas.

Steve is about to close up, setting his bag and red sweater on the counter ready to leave (if only Robin would hurry up with stealing the chocolates from the storage boxes out back). The front bell rings as Nancy pushes the door open with her elbow, arms filled with shopping bags and bringing a freezing winter chill in with her. Eddie suddenly rushes up beside her, nose reddened from the cold. At least he was wearing a hat and winter coat now.

He grabs a bag from Nancy and reaches over her slight frame to hold the door open.

"No, no, no. I’m sorry," Nancy insists, shaking her head and ridding it of enough snow to build a snowman. She attempts to take her bags back but Eddie holds them out of her reach with a grin.

"After you," he says, nodding his head and bowing as Nancy walks in the door.

"I'm so sorry," she repeats. "Last minute shopping."

"Been too busy sitting over in the corner making goo-goo eyes at Robin, have we?"

Her eyes dart around, eyelashes fluttering as she stutters out, "I've been doing work! … Also that."

"You're cool, star reporter Nancy Wheeler," he insists with a wink, the pair setting her bags on the counter in unison. "I'm here to take Steve on a date. But I’m not sure he knows it’s a date. I’m kinda late."

He looks over with a tight-lipped smile to a slack-jawed Steve.

"Huh?" Steve grunts, unable to form words.

Eddie’s snorting laugh is cut off by Robin, who halts with a yelp in the doorway to the back room.

"Hi," Nancy says with an awkward wave. She straightens up before declaring, "Um, do you want to go to a movie? I'm sorry I'm so late. I got carried away buying presents for my little sister."

Robin's eyes go so wide they look like they are going to pop out of her skull.

"That's, that's cool," she splutters. "We were just closing."

Steve realises he is still wearing his stupid Christmas hat and yanks it off his head, only to find Eddie smiling at him with his stupid dimples. Eddie tosses Steve’s sweater at him.

"Come on, Big Boy. Put your dorky sweater on and let’s go get a drink. Promise I won’t talk about how we've only got one week left on earth."

"Y2K," Nancy laughs, rolling her eyes. "Nothing is going to happen."

"You don’t believe the machines are coming to harvest our organs?" Robin shrieks and Steve just groans at the amount of time he has wasted over the past few months listening to Robin ranting about the millennium.

"If you believe that computers are going to glitch at the turn of the new millennium and destroy human existence, why do you work at an internet cafe?" Nancy laughs.

Eddie clicks his finger and points at Robin. "Wheeler’s got you there."

Robin merely shrugs, "The end is inevitable, mass-produced coffee products and Christmas aprons, or not."

"Woah," Eddie says, somehow completely amazed by Robin’s nonsense and Steve can’t help but giggle.

[silvysartfulness]

sorry to bother, but I recently re-read the last chapter of Heaven has a Road, (36 for future reference), and I don't even know how to phrase my question here. Did/Do you have a clear idea of what was going on through Xue Yang's head? (I think you know exactly when I'm talking about), did/do you have something from his perspective? are we getting some insight into his head and what this meant to him in future chapters? speaking of, is there a ETA? cause Im DYING over here, checking my mail daily

Never a bother! I love getting to talk about Heaven Has A Road - people asking questions about it really help boost my inspiration/motivation! ♥

I'm assuming you mean the last scene, with SongXue..? There will definitely be more of whatever the hell that is up ahead! Both Song Lan and Xue Yang are approaching the "post-incident" morning in their own very different ways - it's definitely shifted their relationship dynamics in a way they both wrestle with, and will keep wrestling with for quite some time!

As for the scene itself, what went through Xue Yang's head started as anger and frustration at not only being filthy but having to rely on an enemy to help him get clean, and then equal parts furiously resenting and helplessly enjoying that physical touch, the illusion of closeness and care - he's every bit as touch starved as Xiao Xingchen, and he hasn't been getting hugs and kisses to take the edge of it. Probably more furious at himself and his body for reacting as it does than Song Lan, though.

But then, once Song Lan turns out to actually be equally aroused... That's a game-changer! Suddenly there's a chance to actually get some of that physical touch - distraction, pleasure, release...

But he knows how easy it is to piss Song Lan off - the uptight lump takes offense at anything! - so he consciously opts to keep his mouth shut and just let Song Lan take the reins, as it were. Trying to vibe as much as he possibly can that he's all for this, without actually saying anything crass enough to make the prissy daoshi run away.

And for all that the sex itself wasn't great, getting to have it was amazing. Doesn't matter all that much with whom, or the circumstances, or that it hurt - it knocked him right out of the angry/hurt/hopeless thought spirals in his head for a few blissful moments, and was exactly what he needed.

... Only problem now being that he wants more of where that came from, and Song Lan will not be very easy to convince to go a second round. XD

I drew this image for a scene from next chapter - Xue Yang greeting Song Lan the next morning, tousled and smouldering, wearing nothing but Song Lan's robes... It may be good Song Lan is already dead, or he might just have suffered a heart attack. ♥

As for next update... I just got the chapter back from my beta, so in theory, once I've made the suggested edits, it'll be ready to go! I do, however, want to finish another one for my buffer pile before I post 37, and don't have a chapter image ready either... So realistically, probably not this week. Maybe next one, if I can finish a chapter image before I leave town next weekend - I can write away from home, but the laptop isn't powerful enough to run Photoshop.

So your guess is as good as mine? 😂

I am still steadily writing ahead, though (currently at 228k 😬) so hopefully soon!