#almost stepped right in it and it was so gross like a small little poop but a bunch of liquid

[dira333]

Current Friend, Future Husband? - Tenma Udai/Little Giant x Reader

whoops, my finger slipped... Words: 5k

Enjoy this reluctant Friends to Lovers/He falls first with the Little Giant from Karasuno.

created as a fanfic gift exchange for @lees-chaotic-brain

tagging: @mariaace @snail-squasher @yamaguchiwestad @respitable

- 6 -

“Tenma’s here,” your mom calls up from the kitchen.

The announcement is unnecessary because Tenma has yet to learn how to walk quietly, stomping up the stairs to your room.

His face is set in a scowl too, dark curls and dark eyes giving him quite an evil aura.

But you’ve known him long enough not to care about that.

“Grab a scarf,” you tell him as soon as he steps through the door, “I’m playing wedding.”

“Not again,” he groans, though does as he is told. The pink scarf he picks has hundreds of little coins sown to it, chiming as he wraps it around his shoulders and moves through the room.

“I’m a Djinn,” he exclaims, “I will curse you.”

“Djinn’s don’t curse people! They fulfill wishes,” you correct him.

“Fine,” he huffs, “What do you wish for?”

“I want Tenma to play the husband.”

“Not again!” He groans, throwing his hands in the air.

“You have to!” You declare, “Djinn’s always have to follow their master's wishes!”

He huffs and whines and begs but it’s no use. He plays the husband to your wife.

“Can we play outside now?” He asks as soon as you kiss his cheek and declare the marriage official. “Mom brought my ball.”

“Fine,” you decide to be nice today. “But don’t kick it too hard. I don’t like that.”

.

- 8 -

“It’s so weird that you’ve got a boy as a best friend,” Asuka exclaims. Your small group of (girl)friends has gathered in your favorite spot, overlooking the garden and the big open space below. Tenma’s playing Ball with a group of boys and he’s easy to pick out, he’s always the smallest in any group.

“You think so?” You ask back, taking one of the strawberries Sango brought for lunch break today. “It’s not like I had a chance. Our mothers are best friends. He’s basically my annoying twin brother.”

“Do you think he’s cute?” Ryo asks, looking up from where she’s painting Tomoko’s nails.

You consider this for a moment, look down to where he’s running around, red-faced and panting. He’s not ugly, that much you can tell, but cute?

“I don’t think so,” you say, because it’s better than to admit that you don’t really know what cute really means for a guy. You think babies are cute, but that’s not the same thing, right?

“I think he’s cute,” Ryo admits easily now that she thinks she knows where you stand. “Can I ask him to be my boyfriend?”

“I mean you can ask,” you offer, feeling a little weird that she asks you in the first place, “but I don’t know what he’ll answer you. I bet he still thinks girls are gross.”

.

- 10 -

“I think you’re getting a little too old to be sharing a bathtub,” your mother announces after Tenma has left.

“We weren’t sharing,” you explain, drying your hair. “We were playing that he was my magical shapeshifting dog but he rolled around in a mountain of dragon poop and I had to give him a bath. He pulled me in when I was almost done washing him.”

Your mother sighs. “Aren’t you getting a little old for those stories too?”

You tense and she notices right away.

“Dear, I didn’t mean… if this is how you want to play, I’m totally fine with that. I was just wondering…”

“How else are we supposed to play?” You ask, unable to keep the agitation out of your voice. “Am I supposed to kiss him and hold hands like the other girls in my class are pretending to do? Or play Volleyball the whole day? Or just do our homework and study, study, study until we fall asleep? Or play video games that you don’t like because they make you dumb? How are we supposed to play?”

Your mother sighs again, lowers herself until she’s sitting crosslegged on the floor next to you.

“Come,” she says, opening her arms until you crawl into her like you used to do. “I’m sorry. I know, as your mother, I should say and do all the right things but that was pretty stupid of me. Can you forgive me?”

You nod and she pulls you in a little closer, kissing your damp hair. “Now tell me, what do you like to do? What’s fun?”

You lean into her, the familiar smell and warmth, and let yourself open up.

“When I come up with a story, Tenma always makes it bigger. Like today, when I said: Do you wanna play my dog, it was his idea that he could shapeshift. And that we’re living in a world that has dragons. And… and I was a maiden that had a tavern and there would be knights who came by to slay the dragons but the dragons are actually our friends… It’s like reading a book but you’re in it, you know? And he doesn’t ask about who I like and what I like and what I think is cute all the time. That’s so annoying.”

“You like hanging out with Tenma?”

“He’s okay,” you offer and she snorts. “If he ever gets on your nerves, you can tell me, okay? I know boys can be annoying too.”

“I can handle Tenma,” you tell her, knowing you’re right. “But can you, like, not allow me to go to Ryo’s sleepover next week? She’s so obsessed with boys and she always pranks someone during sleepover. I don’t want to wake up with my head shaved.”

.

- 12 -

“Do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

To say you’re surprised would be an understatement. 

It’s not that you don’t get chocolates and confessions, because you do, a lot actually even though you decline every time, but never from Tenma.

For a long second neither of you does or says anything and all you see of him is the back of his neck as he bows.

But then he pops up, a weird grin on his face.

“Got you!” He declares, opening the pack of chocolates and biting into it without a moment of hesitation. “Did you think that was real?”

“No,” you say even though that’s a lie, “Why did you do it?” 

He shrugs, offering you the chocolate. You take a bite as well, feeling a little smug that neither of you cares that it will be an “indirect kiss” as the girls call it. 

“Everyone thinks we’re dating,” he admits finally when he pulls the chocolate back again, “just wanted to see what you think about it.”

“It’s annoying,” you declare ad you should have watched his face a little closer because something like a shadow moves over it, but it’s gone before you can catch it. “You’re like my brother.”

“Yeah,” he says, but it sounds a little weak for someone as headstrong as Tenma.

You don’t wanna think about it though, so you poke his shoulder. “Where did you get the chocolate?”

“Someone confessed to me. I said no but I kept the chocolate because they thought I was dating you and still confessed. That’s stupid.”

“Mhm,” you don’t ask for a name. “Wanna stay and play a bit before we walk home?”

“Volleyball?” He asks, ears perking up. 

“Sure.”

.

- 14 -

Neither of you is dating anyone. 

None of your girlfriends believes that you’re not into Tenma and you’ve given up on convincing them of the truth. You don’t really want to date anyone. You like solving puzzles and coming up with crazy ideas that Tenma can bend and fold into even crazier stories. You like going for a run with him in the morning because even though you hate waking up early it sets your mind at ease and you like going for a run with him in the evening because without it, you’ll be unable to sleep.

Sure, there are some good-looking boys in your class. But maybe you’ve spent too much time around Tenma, or boys in general, to find any appeal in them. 

They fart and they burp and they dig their dirty fingers into their noses and they refuse to shower even though they smell awful and sweaty. The number of times you’ve had to drag Tenma into the shower, turn it on, and hold him under the spray because you couldn’t allow him in your room otherwise and he wouldn’t go on his own is too high to admit at this point.

It helps a little that Tenma thinks the same of girls.

Not that the girls from your class are as disgusting as the boys. 

But they giggle too much and they always flutter their lashes at him which he thinks is a little creepy and they don’t listen to him when he talks about anything that isn’t their appearance.

“I like talking to you instead,” he admits and this is probably the highest praise he’s ever sung you, “you know what I’m talking about.”

And you know what he means because you always know what he means. It’s not that hard. Tenma likes stories, the crazier the better, and he likes volleyball. And food, but he’s picky with that, giving you his tomatoes and eating all your salmon even though you’d have wanted to eat that yourself. 

All the other girls in your class are talking about boyfriends and getting married and having a family and all you want to think about is solving riddles with Tenma or telling him a story so he doesn’t make you practice receives with him. 

.

- 16 -

“Did you get your first kiss already?” Hisoka asks and you shake your head. Nothing sounds less appealing than tasting someone else’s spit.

“Don’t you and Tenma kiss?” She asks and you stare at her as if she’d said that Alien’s are real. 

“Why would we kiss?”

“You’re dating, aren’t you? Everyone says that you’re dating.”

“He’s like my brother,” you tell her. “We grew up together.”

“But you’re the manager of the Volleyball team too.”

“Yeah, because I like Volleyball.”

She huffs. “Okay, who do you like? I think Tsukishima is still single.”

Tsukishima, blond, tall, and universally liked, blushes like a strawberry. You glare at him for eavesdropping.

“I’m not interested in anyone,” you declare loudly. You hope that’s the end of it.

It isn’t.

.

“Hey, can you walk home without me? We’re going to prank the store owner down the street,” Tenma hands you his bag without waiting for an answer.

You walk home alone, grumbling to yourself about how you would have wanted to play along with the prank.

But it doesn’t matter.

After years of being an okay player, Karasuno’s trainer seems to have spotted something in Tenma that he didn’t even expect there himself.

Extra training. More time on the court. Recognition from others.

Soon enough you’re sidelined with Tsukishima and the others.

First-year managers are not allowed on the court during official matches. 

Is there anything worse than realizing that you’ve made a mistake? Putting all your faith in one friend only to realize they can drop you without a moment’s hesitation?

.

“Tenma’s here,” your mother calls out from the kitchen.

You’re not fast enough at sprinting toward your door. He slips into your room before you’ve managed to close it.

“Tsukishima told me you’re leaving the team?” He sounds out of breath. Did he run here?

“I’m just a manager, it’s not like the team will notice,” you scoff, pushing him off your bed. “Besides I’m taking up Advanced English, so I’ll have more time to study.”

“What? Are you going to turn boring now?”

“You’re boring!” You scream, surprised by the anger that’s spilling from your lips. It feels as if he’d stabbed you with that question and all the words are just the blood that’s spraying out of open wounds. “All you do is play volleyball and think you’re the greatest and it sucks!”

“You suck!” He yells back. “You’re just jealous I’m finally cool!”

“You’ll never be cool!” 

Tenma stomps his foot like a little kid before storming out of your room.

You can hear the front door slam shut all the way up to your room and if you crawl into your bed to cry right after that’s nobody’s business but yours.

And your mother’s, as it seems, because she appears at your doorstep just a few minutes later.

“Wanna tell me what that was all about?”

“No.”

“Hm, maybe not right now,” she offers at your tear-soaked voice, “but I expect an explanation until tomorrow evening, okay? Tenma’s family to me too. You know we can solve all fights with good communication.”

You don’t answer and she leaves you alone to wallow in your despair.

.

“Tenma wants to apologize,” Udai-san pushes him toward you. Your mother nudges you forward in much the same way.

“I don’t want you to be cool,” you say instead, the words prickly on your tongue. “I like you better when you’re not cool.”

Tenma’s eyes flutter around the room, arms crossed. Your mothers leave the room and you sink into the floor, annoyed and hurt and so many more things you can’t properly name.

“Do you really think I’m boring?” Your voice is much to vulnerable for your liking.

But it stills his nervous movement and he sinks onto the floor just like you, heavy and exhausted. You’ve never fought like this before. 

“I think you’re trying to be,” he offers quietly, “but I want to you to keep playing Volleyball with me.”

“I’m just a manager.”

“Yeah, but it feels like you’re playing with me. And… and you’ve always been the smart one, okay? Everyone’s always said: Tenma, you should be more like her. She’s so smart. Can’t she tutor you? No one ever told you to play Volleyball like me. No one ever told anyone to try to be like me until now.”

“I’ve always wanted to be as creative as you,” you offer and even though he wrinkles his nose you can tell he’s touched by that.

It feels like you’re standing at a crossroads. Whatever you decide or do or say next will change the trajectory of this friendship. You’re not ready for that. You doubt you’ll ever be. 

As long as there’s the safety of your past, you’ll always try to grasp it.

“Do you wanna play my dog?”

.

- 18 -

You’re not sure if it’s the awful music, the crowd around you, the smell of sweat and food and spilled soda, or just everything all at once, but you don’t think College parties are for you.

You recall a balcony or backdoor to your left so you move that way, push against the wall of bodies with everything that you’ve got, panic already bubbling in your throat.

Someone grabs your hand just as you’re gasping for air and with a well-aimed push you’re through, cool air hugging you like a loved relative at a family dinner.

“You good?” Tenma’s squinting down at you. He’s grown a little during break, though you doubt he’ll ever be as tall as the other guys on his former Volleyball team.

“Yeah, thanks.”

His hand is still around yours, now pulling you down the path into the dark garden.

“Where are we going?”

“Dunno, getting some fresh air into you. Met anyone you like?”

“Yeah, the fridge.”

He snickers. “What about that girl from your business Class?”

“She’s trying to eat the face of some guy I don’t know.”

“Tsukishima?”

“Pretended he didn’t know me.”

“Aww, I’m wounded.”

“I bet you are. What about you? Any hot girls tried to talk to you?”

“About that,” he knocks his elbow into your side, “one of them tried to kiss me.”

“A hot girl tried to kiss you?” He nudges you again at your incredulous tone.

“Don’t act so surprised. I’m famous.”

“Bet you are,” you snicker. “But what happened? Did she realize you’re not a tall girl but a small guy and run away?”

“No,” his voice sounds weird now, but you can barely see his face in the dark, “I turned her down. Didn’t want my first kiss to happen at some party.”

“How do you want your first kiss to happen?”

“Ah,” you know he’s just shaking his head from left to right as he’s thinking, you don’t have to be able to see him for that, “Like this, you know? In the garden in the dark? That’s kinda romantic.”

“Should have brought someone else over here then.”

His hand lets go of yours.

“Right,” he says, voice weirdly tight.

“Shit, did I ruin the mood?” You ask, nudging your elbow into whatever you can reach, “I can get that hot girl for you. Just tell me what she looks like.”

“Do you wanna get KFC instead?” He must have turned his back to you. You don’t know what you said to derail this conversation, but it’s clear he doesn’t want to keep it up. 

“Sure,” you agree, “but you’re paying.”

.

- 20 -

Tenma has started growing his hair out.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t suit him.

You’d be a filthy, awful, terrible liar if you said you didn’t want to drag your hands through it all the damn time.

“You should cut your hair,” you tell him when you meet up for lunch, “You look like a homeless guy.”

“And you look like a sexy secretary,” he jokes, pulling you in and putting you in a headlock. It feels brotherly and it’s just what you need to get through this lunchdate that’s not a date.

Somewhere in between graduating Highschool and today Tenma’s gotten hot. 

Or maybe you’ve just finally gone through puberty, discovered all the hormone’s healthy teenage girls were supposed to have.

Last week you even sniffed his leather jacket when he was in the bathroom and you wished you could have put in on for a few minutes, but you feared he’d notice and how would you ever live that down?

“Did you get any feedback on that story you submitted?” You ask, trying not to overthink his comment. It’s probably meant as a loving insult, after all you’re not a secretary.

“Yes, actually, they told me they’re printing it.”

“No way,” you shut the menu again, “You’re joking, right?”

He grins. “You think I’m joking?”

“Not really, but I wanna make sure you’re being honest with me before I pay for your lunch.”

“You could let me pay and we call this a date,” he says and even though you catch yourself freezing up you can see on his face that he caught it.

“I was joking,” he tells you and if you’d be able to be honest, if you’d trust yourself not to ruin this, you’d tell him that his joking is the one thing that makes you still freeze up in fear.

After all, you don’t throw away a friendship of twenty years to a joke, right?

“I know,” you tell him pointedly, clearing your throat and opening the menu again. “Which means you’re paying for yourself.”

“Come on,” he whines, but his voice comes easy now, which means you can breathe again.

The moment is gone and somehow, you’re sure, you’ll survive the next one too.

.

“Can’t your girlfriend sleep in your room?” You can’t place the voice for a moment even though it sounds familiar.

“Not my girlfriend.” That’s Tenma. Who are they talking about?

“Well, if you keep having a girl over make sure she has a place to sleep that is not the living room. I need my space in the morning.”

“Sure, sure.” Tenma sounds like he’s not taking this seriously. 

You blink and wipe the drool from your face.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” Tenma’s face is so close now you can smell the toothpastey-freshness of his breath.

“What day is it?” You ask, feel your jaw crack as you yawn.

“Sunday,” he pulls you up with ease, “Let’s put some of my spare clothes on you before we meet up with our parents. Or did you bring something?”

You rub your eyes as you lean on him. He might have stopped playing Volleyball, but he hasn’t lost his muscles. 

The memories are slowly coming back to you. Going through his newest idea, a Manga this time. Reminiscing over old footage from his Karasuno days. Sharing one, two, maybe three beers as you giggle and swat away his hands on the Couch.

You can only hope you didn’t say or do anything embarrassing last night.

But this is Tenma. He’d let you know right away if you had.

.

It gets easier to live with your crush. 

Tenma never mentions any girl he’s seeing or points out who he thinks is cute.

He’s pretty good at keeping in contact even when he’s so lost in his creative mind that he forgets to eat.

And while your work is equally demanding, the hours there are more regular.

It’s not uncommon to find you in his kitchen after work, growing from putting ready-to-eat food onto plates to actually preparing home-cooked meals. They’re not awful and you think that’s the highest praise you can get.

Sometimes, when it’s so late you can forget about catching a train back home and Tenma’s so tired he sounds like he’s speaking a foreign language, you end up sleeping in the same bed.

If you drag your fingertips through his hair then, hear him mumbling softly under his breath as you fall asleep, that’s your secret to keep.

.

- 22 - 

Tenma’s a full-fledged Manga Artist now. 

You got your own promotion just a short month later and as he raises another glass on your good work, the question tumbles out of you before you can stop yourself.

“Do you want to move in together?”

His grip is suddenly too tight around his glass. You can tell because you’ve grown a bit too observant lately, always way too laser-focused on where he is and what he’s doing and how he’s smelling like, freshly-showered or cozily slept-in.

“You can say if it’s a stupid idea,” you ramble on, “I mean, I’m over at your place all the time anyway to make sure you’re eating enough. It would be weird though if one of us brought home a date, but like-”

“Sure,” Tenma clears his throat, “we could move in together.”

He deflects all further questions though, whether it should be closer to his work or closer to yours, how many rooms you’ll need, and if you’ll be able to get a cat, instead filling up your glass again and again.

Eventually, you walk home arm in arm, each of you trying to support the other.

It’s a hopeless case but that doesn’t mean you’ll stop trying.

.

“This was fun,” you say at the train station, debating if you’ll take the train home or find some excuse to stay at his place.

You turn your head, surprised to find him this close. His eyes are wide open, dark and beautiful. He’s always had the prettiest eyes.

You’re still debating their color - more of a dark brown or maybe black - when he leans further in.

You half expect him to headbutt you when instead, his lips touch yours.

The kiss is so soft, you think you’re imagining it, along with the sigh that follows it.

But you’ve always been a realist, digging your fingernails into the skin of your arm to prove yourself you’re not dreaming. It hurts.

“Tenma?” You ask, breathless and floating, “Did you mean to do that?”

His face turns pale, eyes wide like those times you’ve pushed him into a cold shower to sober him up.

“SHIT!” He pulls away so quickly that you stumble, lose your balance and fall flat onto your ass.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Tenma’s rubbing his face with his hands, up and down, up and down, and you’re left sitting there, backbone hurting, the world spinning in the wrong direction.

“Okay, shit, this…” He’s folding himself into a tiny version of himself, just across from you on the cold sidewalk, “I didn’t meant to do this, okay? I know you think of me as your brother, so we can just pretend this never happened, okay? I’m drunk. You’re drunk. We’re going to have forgotten about this tomorrow-”

“Tenma?” You interrupt him, your voice weirdly cloud-like. “Are you in love with me?”

He deflates like a balloon, there’s even a little whistling sound coming out of his mouth when he further shrinks into himself.

“Maybe?” He squeaks out. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, though-”

“I love you too.”

There. You’ve said it. You can’t take it back. Maybe you’ve misunderstood a lot of things tonight, you’ll for sure be able to blame the alcohol for it, but you don’t kiss people you don’t like, right? Especially not if you waited twenty-two years for that. 

Wait, did Tenma even wait that long? Is this even his first kiss like it’s yours?

“Why didn’t you say something?”

You blink, shaken out of your musings by the petulance in his voice.

“You didn’t ask.”

.

- 24 -

You’re not sure what wakes you, but his side of the bed is empty and cold.

You push yourself up with a groan, hiss when your feet touch the freezing ground. 

You don’t have to look long to find him, hair disheveled, eyes foggy.

“Hey,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders and rest your chin on top of his head, “I miss you.”

“Sorry,” he yawns, “I’ll be in bed in a minute.”

“You said that four hours ago,” you remind him, leaning further into him, “can you still see what you’re drawing?”

“If I lose this idea-” he starts before a loud, jaw-cracking yawn cuts through his sentence. 

You unwrap yourself to dig your thumbs into his shoulders, press a well-aimed kiss underneath his left ear.

“Come to bed,” you're not surprised when he follows you without another argument.

Last week one of your coworkers mentioned off-handedly that your boyfriend looks like a delinquent, all long hair and dark shadows, the hint of a stubble and a shirt he forgot to iron.

You weren’t meant to hear it, you’re sure, but you don’t care anyway.

He curls around you now, long limbs and warm hands, head resting heavy on your chest.

You drag your fingers through his hair, up and down and up and down, tell him about all the plans you have until you fall asleep along-side him.

-

“Look at you,” Saeko pulls you into a hug, “You’re practically glowing.”

You snort. “Don’t tell that to my mom. She’s started asking about grandchildren.”

“Yours too?” Akiteru jokes, turning from you to Tenma. “Are your parents united on the grandchildren front or are they more like ours?”

“No, no,” Tenma shakes his head, “My mom is just as insistent that we get started. Our mom’s are best friends for a reason.”

“And they never tried to set you up?” Saeko waves at someone across the streat before dragging you onto the seat next to her, “I smell a story.”

“I’m not sure my mom really cared about it as long as we stayed friends,” you think back. “But there was that time when she asked me to stop taking baths with you.”

Tenma’s face turns pink.

“I remember that time well.” He laughs along with the others, but your hand finds his under the table, squeezes tight.

You like to think that he fell first but you fell harder, but he disagrees.

If anything, he likes to say, I love you most.

“I say,” Saeko interrupts your thoughts, slinging an arm around you, “we play it like your parents. We just have to have babies around the same time and the rest will be history.”

“Don’t get ideas,” Akiteru says but you know him, he’s just as helpless against Saeko’s charm as you are.

“Not the worst idea she’s had,” Tenma whispers into your ear.

.

- 26 -

“Morning Udai-San,” Akaashi greets you.

“I told you to call me by my first name,” you tell him, laughing when he blushes a soft pink. “How’s it going, anyway?”

“Good. We’re actually on schedule, but I don’t want to jinx it.”

“Hmm, I get it.” You resist the urge to tousle his hair. “Is Tenma in his office?”

“Yes, I was just going to get coffee. You want some as well?”

“No, but thanks for asking. What are you getting for Tenma?”

“Two shots of espresso and extra sugar.”

“Make it one shot and I’ll make sure you get a promotion,” you wink and he winks back, slipping out of the office.

.

“Baby?” You ask, slipping through the door.

Tenma’s leaning heavily onto his desk, one hand playing with his hair as he thinks.

“Hmm?” He sits up, opens his arms to welcome you. “Hey, what brings you here?”

“I left Naoki with Saeko and Mi, they were playing so nicely.”

He smiles as you plant yourself on his lap, sink into him like you’re not much bigger than your toddler and not the grown woman you are.

“You good?” Tenma asks, rubbing a hand over your back. “You seem in your head today.”

“Yeah, I am, I just…” You sigh and turn your head to kiss his cheek. “I’m glad you stayed my friend.”

“Where’s that coming from?”

“I was thinking about how I don’t have that much patience. I don’t know if I’d kept crushing on you for as long as you kept crushing on me. What if you’d have given up? We wouldn’t have gotten together.”

He hooks his head over yours, wraps his arms a little more snuggly around you.

“Listen, I didn’t stay your friend because I was hoping you’d one day see me as more. I stayed your friend because I’d rather have you as my friend than nothing at all. After all you’re the best friend I ever had.”

“Even though I made you play my husband, my dog and my dragon?”

“Especially because of that.”

.

“Did you have fun playing with Mi?” Tenma asks your thirteen-month-old. 

The bathroom door is open and you can hear them splash around in the bathtub.

“Mi,” Naoki repeats with excitement.

“Yep, Mi. Now, can you say Dada too?”

“Mama.”

Tenma laughs, easy and carefree and you leave the dishes in the sink in favor of joining him.

After all, the dishes won’t run away, but those little moments with your family might.

[ghosthart]

i got my cat a different type of litter and he hates it cuz he pooped on the bathroom rug in the middle of the night and just in the middle of the bathroom floor today…yucky disgusting…

[inskz]

lucky charm - lee minho

pairing - lee minho x reader

genre - college!au, best friends to lovers, very cliche fluff (lucky girl starring lindsey lohan kinda vibes???)

words - 4k

note - this is just a cute little drabble i wrote while im still waiting for my covid test results to come back so that i can leave my room and see the sun again 🤪 pls be careful everybody take care of your health 💚 enjoy!!!

- - - - -

“You must be kidding me,” you sigh when you see Minho’s hand has turned into a fist, his rock crushing miserably your scissors. Once again, you lost at rock, paper, scissors. And once again, you’re the one that is going to wash your best friend’s dishes that have piled up in is tiny kitchen sink throughout the week.

“Fuck that. This is so unfair,” you grumble, throwing the dishtowel in Minho’s stupid yet perfectly chiseled face.

You make a beeline for his bed, which is actually only a few steps away from the kitchen. Being a broke college student definitely doesn’t allow him to rent a spacious studio, let alone a two-room apartment. You throw yourself headfirst onto his uncomfortable mattress, whose springs always poke your back at night.

“Life is so unfair,” your friend mocks you, dragging out every vowel of his sentence dramatically.

No doubt, you would be strangling him at that very moment if you weren’t so busy playing dead, hoping he would forget about your pitiful existence.

But there is no way mister Lee Minho would miss out on an opportunity to have his gross plates cleaned by someone else. Grabbing onto your ankle, he drags you out of bed until you plop down on the dirty carpeted floor (Minho has the unfortunate tendency to procrastinate vacuuming too). At this point, you are fake crying, throwing a literal tantrum, like a 6 years old child would.

“Life is unfair!” you yell, your feet kicking in the air in pure anger.

At least it is to you. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been lucky. The only instance you got remotely close to it was when you found a four-leaf clover last summer. Well, only if you disregard the fact you stepped into dog poop  on your way to picking it. Oh and that you were wearing brand new white Converse. 

On the other hand, it seems like the boy has the whole crew of the Olympus gods on his side. Not one day goes by without his guardian angel manifesting its presence. 

Minho has always been the lucky type. The type to get an extra nugget in his box of 10. To find 20 dollars bills on the ground. To win every single Instagram giveaway he participates to (and lord knows how much he likes participating to them). 

But how can you be mad at him when he always happily shares his food with you, invites you to the restaurant without you even asking, and gives you his prizes, pretending he doesn’t need them? You don’t believe him when he says he see no use in a panda onesie or a waterproof bluetooth speaker. Deep down, you know it’s his way to silently love you. 

But well, you can still blame him for occasionally taking advantage of your misfortune to make you do his dreaded house chores, just like right now. 

Everyone thinks you are a bizarre duo. Even you can’t fathom how in hell you two became best friends, considering how awfully your first encounter went three years ago. 

On orientation day, he asked you for the time, probably because his phone was dead (or maybe because he was dying to talk to you?)

Without hesitation, you lifted and rotated your wrist so that you could see your watch. Little did you remember; you never actually owned a watch and you were holding a fancy 7 dollars iced coffee, which, of course, did not have a lid on because plastic is bad for the environment (duh). 

Minho couldn’t help but burst out in hysterical laughter when the whole drink spilled on your jeans. For your defense, you didn’t sleep at all the night before  since you were terrified of being alone in your new dorm room the first few days (weird stuff happens all the time in dorms, okay?). If he had asked you for your name, you probably wouldn’t even have been able to tell him. 

But Minho thought you were the funniest person on campus, and he really needed a clown like you to entertain him throughout his endless college semesters. That’s what he told you anyways. Not that he thought you were the cutest human being he had ever seen. 

Why would he when you are the literal definition of a mess: always having toothpaste stains on your sweater, bags under your eyes, messy hair, tripping and falling, missing buses, breaking things, losing stuff. 

Most of the time, you just forget your keys and Minho lets you crash at his place since he hasn’t got any roommate and he isn’t used to sleeping alone, especially without his cats. It surely isn’t because he loves waking up next to a very groggy but adorable you every single morning, no.  

Minho manages to bring you back to the countertop despite your reluctance. Positioned behind you, his arms trapping your body to make sure you can’t run away from your duties, he dips your hands into the soapy water, and you can’t help but squirm at the touch of an unknown substance sticking to a plate that has probably been soaking here for a week. You despise doing the dishes and your friend knows it.

You hear him giggle in your ear while he is playing with your arms like you are some type of marionette, making you to take the sponge and squeeze dish soap onto it. 

You’ve never been the kind to like proximity nor seemed to be Minho, but for some reason, you always end up glued to each other. You hate public displays of attention and pet names a little less when it comes from him. Or maybe you don’t hate it at all and actually crave it every single minute that goes by.

Before he has the time to come up with the Machiavellian idea to soak your pajamas in dirty water (because you know he would inevitably have at some point), you yank his hands off of you and start scrubbing angrily the dirty cups. 

Minho stays behind you anyways, observing your every move, his chin propped up on your shoulder like a curious little bird. To be honest, his presence is kind of getting overwhelming. But whatever, it’s not like his slightest touch makes your heart warm up in comfort or that he smells like fresh linen drying out on the porch of a cottage house on a sunny Sunday morning or anything. 

“You missed a spot. Here” he murmurs teasingly, his lips almost touching your earlobe, while he points at the handle of his hideous ‘world’s greatest dad’ mug Jisung gifted him last christmas. 

You know he has noticed the way you shivered violently at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin because he starts snickering loudly. 

“I swear to god if you don’t shut up and go seat on the couch, I’ll slap you so hard with this spatula you’ll regret you were even born,” you say, turning around suddenly to menace him with the plastic utensil. 

Of course, he isn’t afraid one bit. Right now, you really wish you could make the smug, but oh so attractive, look on his face disappear. 

“Alright, ma’am” he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll let you do your thing”. He lets himself fall onto his dingy couch. 

You can hear him humming one of his favorite songs above the sound of the water running. It would probably be getting on your nerves if his voice wasn’t so pretty.  

“Chan’s sick, so we’re not going to the gym tomorrow night. Do you wanna eat tacos? El Huero has even better deals than usual” he asks you, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. 

“Aren’t the deals supposed to be on Tuesdays?” You frown and scrub a little harder the frying pan Minho has burnt the night before while trying to make chocolate chips pancakes for diner, because why eat savory food when you can have dessert for every meal, right? It is one of the few advantages of living without your parents you both truly enjoy. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Tomorrow,” he yawns, probably exhausted after what you put him through last night. You forced him to catch up on the entire season of Love Island because you desperately needed someone to bitch with, and what better partner than Lee Minho.  

You take a quick glance at him and see him stretching himself across the cushions like a cat. You always thought there was something feline about his features. While you’re drying the mugs with the dishtowel, your mind wanders uncontrollably, thinking about his piercing eyes, his delicate nose, the corners of his lips that curl up a little… 

All of the sudden, your hands freeze. Minho is too immersed in TikToks to notice the stupor on your face. “Wait. Today is… Monday?” you stutter. 

Alarmed by the sound of your voice, his eyes finally leave his phone’s screen to look up at you. “Yeah” he repeats slowly as if you are the dumbest person he has ever encountered. 

And you truly are. You are pretty sure your heart has stopped beating. Minho’s “world’s greatest dad” mug you’re holding slips between your fingers and comes crashing on the floor with a deafening sound. The pieces are now scattered all around you, making you unable to make out what’s written on it anymore. Not a big loss, if you ask. 

“Y/N, you know that’s my favorite mug!” he exclaims, leaping up from the couch. “I’m sure you did it on purpose,” he mutters while he’s trying to collect the small fragments, in vain. 

But you’re too shocked at this very moment to pay attention to the glare your friend is giving you. To be honest, Minho has only two moods: glaring at you or teasing you.  

“My interview,” you finally manage to say, and Minho’s eyes go wide as he realizes the critical situation you’re in. 

You check the time on the microwave: 10:45. In 30 minutes, you’re supposed to be on the other side of town, being interrogated by boring businessmen that are going to decide whether or not you’ll be accepted for a paid internship in one of the most reputable music label of the country. Basically, decide whether you’ll live a happy and fulfilling life, working in the sector you’ve always dreamed of or end up miserable with a boring office job and a massive college debt. 

“Holy shit,” Minho whispers. You can see a wave of panic washing across his face for a split second, but, as always, he manages to find his composure back immediately. 

He has never been the kind to lose his cool, except to scold you when you forget the names of his cats and their respective coats’ color (which you unfortunately often did forget). 

“What are you doing? Get dressed!” He tells you when he sees you’re still standing there dumbfounded in the kitchen, like the famous Robert Pattinson meme, wearing an oversize Kermit the frog shirt with a dozen holes in it and his favorite Adidas sweatpants you always stole from him.

“No, it’s too late. I can’t make it,” you mutter, your breath short. You’re paralyzed, as if there is a 20lbs rock sitting at the bottom of your stomach, pinning you to the ground. 

This isn’t bad luck, you think. This is karma. This is what you get for skipping classes to watch telereality shows in your bed with your best friend and not even realizing it isn’t the weekend anymore.

“Miss me with that bullshit.” He runs to his closet and rummages through his drawers, throwing every piece of clothing that’s on his way to find an appropriate outfit that would fit you. 

“You’re gonna go do this interview even if I have to drag you all the way there.” He pushes you into his bathroom since you still haven’t moved an inch. 

You manage to brush your teeth and your hair, fighting through the nauseous feeling that is building up in your tummy. 

When you come back to the living room, Minho has found dress pants and a sweater that might not look utterly ridiculous on you. He lets you change in a corner, while he runs around the room collecting all your essentials. 

“You’re coming?” you ask him when you see he is already wearing his puffer jacket.  

“You really think I’m gonna let you go all by yourself when you’re literally not even able to put your shoes on properly”. You are, indeed, struggling with your laces, as if your fingers are suddenly made out of butter. 

Minho ties them up for you and you literally feel like he’s your babysitter. You know you’re gonna hear about this for months – what are you saying- years! But all you can think about at the moment though, is the fact that sneakers are definitely not appropriate for an interview. 

He throws your warmest coat at you, grab his keys, and by some type of miracle, you’re both out to the door in less than 10 minutes. 

You try to call the elevator, but Minho grabs your arm and leads you to the staircase. His hand never leaving yours, he runs down the stairs and you have no choice but to follow him as fast as you can. 

You can’t count how many times you missed a step and fell at this particularly slippery spot, between the 5th and the 4th floor, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t happen today. 

When you finally reach the ground floor, you exit the complex and Minho hops on his old and rusty bike that he had attached to nearest tree the night before.

“There’s no way I’m riding behind you on this death machine,” you laugh nervously. The memory of that one time Minho convinced you to seat into his bicycle basket (as if you could even realistically fit in it) and you both fell seconds after he started to pedal is coming back to your mind.

Sure, it was after a long night of drinking, you were both tipsy and it was the only way to get you home since you had spent all your uber money at the bar, but still! You’re pretty sure the bruise on your butt hasn’t disappeared to this day.  

“Hurry up,” Minho groans, ignoring your complaint. You unwillingly seat on his flimsy pannier rack and wrap your arms around his torso. 

You haven’t even left, yet you’re already holding onto his puffer jacket for dear life. A giggle escapes your friend’s mouth (which you think is very inappropriate in such a desperate situation) before he lifts his feet off the ground and starts pedaling. 

You try to ignore the loud squeaking of the bicycle drive by shutting your eyes tighter and rehearsing your introduction you have prepared over and over in your head. No matter how hard you are trying, you can’t remember what you are supposed to say just after your age (which, as you can imagine, isn’t really far into your monologue). 

By the way the wind is lashing your face, you can tell Minho has picked up the speed. His breathing is getting louder, his heartbeat faster and you can’t help but think you’re probably way too heavy for him to bike you around like that. Maybe he shouldn’t skip his gym sessions with Chan so often. Or maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the leftover pancakes for breakfast after all.

You find the courage to open your eyelids and are pleased to see you’re already halfway there, probably because every single one of the traffic lights you encounter is green, and your friend is going surprisingly fast. Is luck finally starting to smile upon you? 

Your mad race comes to a halt when you reach the address of your interview. You hop off the bike and so does Minho who, by the way, is a panting mess. He’s barely able to catch his breath, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he’s beaming at you when he realizes you’re just on time. 

“Go” he gasps, pushing you in the direction of the building’s hall. 

You walk up to the glass door but as your hands are about to push it, you pull a 180. Your friend sighs loudly, already knowing what’s coming next. 

“Wait. No. I can’t do this. I’m not prepared” you tell him frantically. “I’m freaking out. I think I’m gonna pass out.” You are now walking in circles, mumbling incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Your heart is racing in your chest and your hands are getting clammy at the simple thought of failure. But guess what? You can’t fail if you don’t even try! One more good reason to just go back to bed and forget about your sad life for a good 8 hours, right? 

“Y/N, you’re the most talented person I know, you’re gonna do just fine” Minho catches you in his arm to stop your endless pacing. You would probably think this gesture is endearing if it wasn’t just meant to make sure you couldn’t run for your life.  

“No, I’m not. What if I throw up in front of everybody like that one time during the Romeo and Juliet musical?” You look up at him and his face is only inches away from yours. You’re sure you would be swooning at how beautiful he looks if you weren’t so terrified at this very moment.

“You were nine,” your best friend says, and you swear you have never heard him speak to you in such a sweet tone before. His voice is like honey and lavander but it doesn’t soothe you like it should. 

You manage to break free from his embrace to crouch down, in an attempt to slow down your breathing. If only you had data left, you could be watching those short relaxing videos on your phone. They always work. But no, you had to spent it all on online games, just one week into the month. You really are beyond help.  

“Y/N I know you’re scared, but if you miss out on this opportunity, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.” Minho is lowering himself so that you can hear him, even though you’re curled up in a ball. 

“And I’m warning you, I won’t want to hear you complain about it,” he adds, this whole situation obviously starting to get on his nerves. 

If you were him, you would have probably left a long time ago. But this isn’t your best friend’s way of behaving. You know he would never abandon you no matter how annoying you could be (and you could be very annoying sometimes). After all, he is always the one holding your hair while you puke in the toilets when you had a couple too many drinks.

It takes all your willpower to stand up but there is no other way, you have to do it. You can hear the time ticking dangerously in your mind, as if your brain had turned into a clock.

“You’re right. Slap me,” you say, looking at him straight in the eyes, dead serious. 

“Wha -“

“Slap some sense into me. They do that in movies when people are panicking. It’s like throwing a bucket of cold water in someone’s face. But clearly we don’t have a bucket and we don’t have cold wa- “ you start blabbering. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not gonna slap you!” Your friend isn’t usually that horrified at the thought of beating your ass. In fact, he has felt the desire to rip your head off more than once, especially when you’d steal all the duvet at night, but at this moment he is just scared you might have actually lost your mind.  

“Just fucking do it Minho!” you scream, your hands clenching the front of his grey hoodie he always looks so divine in. 

Minho has never obeyed you, and this is not the day he is going to start. 

He puts both of his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips onto yours. 

You would be lying if you said you have never imagined the day your best friend would kiss you. It happens pretty much every single time you look at his cute pout a little too long. But one thing is certain, it isn’t like you pictured it to be at all.

You were convinced your heart would go so wild it would burst out of your chest and your head would spin so furiously you’d lose your balance. You thought your stomach would fill with butterflies to the brim and your whole body would be on fire.

But none of that is happening. On the contrary, every single muscle in your body relaxes under his touch. The way his soft mouth presses gently against yours makes you calmer, almost at peace amongst all this turmoil. 

Minho is kissing all your tension and stress away and you catch yourself letting a sigh of relief escape your parted lips.

As if you have kissed him already hundreds of times in your past life, Minho feels like home. He’s a safe haven you can always take refuge in during troubled times. Ever since the day you met, he has never left your side.

When he breaks away from the kiss, you notice your breath isn’t so ragged and your mind isn’t so foggy anymore. You’re serene. His cold hands are still cupping your face, slightly squishing your cheeks, and you feel like an idiot sandwich for asking him to slap you seconds before.

“That can work too, I guess…” you mutter.  

“You’re okay?” he asks, staring at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You just nod, unable to say one more word, and sprint to the entrance, not wanting to make your interviewers wait any longer than they already have.

“Good luck!” You hear him yell just before the door closes behind you and you can’t help but grin from ear to ear.

- - - - - 

Thirty minutes later, you finally step out of the fancy lobby to find a very bored Minho leaning against a tree, patiently waiting for you.

“You’re still here?”

“Of course, I am,” he says, his mouth full of croissant. He gives you a large iced coffee he probably went buying to kill time. Your lips unconsciously curl up into a smile when you notice it comes from the same chain that the one you spilled on your lap on the day you first met him. 

“How did it go?” he asks you, sticking his buttery pastry into your mouth so that you can take a bite.

“Way better than I thought” you answer, right after you swallowed. You hate the way flakes would always get stuck between your teeth. But Minho is always there to warn you about it before anyone else notices, and even pick them for you if you can’t manage to, which, when you think about it, is kind of gross. 

There are two things the boy knows about you: you’re the greatest pessimist on earth and you’d rather die than admit you were wrong (especially if it meant he was right). So for you to even say it wasn’t that bad, means it went phenomenal. 

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but I told you so.” He smiles so wide you can barely see his eyes anymore. You have to look away, otherwise you know you might become instantly blinded by love.

“Maybe I could use some more of your luck” you mumble, staring at your shoes and kicking the red leaves that were surrounding your feet on this sunny autumn morning. 

“Really? And what makes you think I’ll share it with you,” he teases you, leaning forward to incite you to look at him in the eyes. 

“That.”

Your hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him in, in order to close the space that is still left between your mouths.

At first, Minho stiffens, taken aback by your bold move. But soon enough, he caves into your touch. He kisses you back fervently, like he means it. 

His fingers entagle in your hair, his arm wraps around your waist and his chest presses against your body. You’re melting in his embrace, submerged by a wave of bliss which he alone seems to know the recipe. 

It feels new, yet so familiar. Like it was supposed to happen, like it was written in the stars. 

He tastes like croissant and Americano. Like fortune and fate. 

And you can’t help but think you’re the luckiest person on earth.

Who cares about winning the lottery when Lee Minho is your lucky charm? 

[hockeyisit]

Celebrate

Summary: Auston and Amelia celebrate the twins fifth birthday. 

A.N: Hope you enjoy! More notes at the end.

Word Count: 5,405

Masterlist

I felt a soft foot kick me in the stomach as I felt tiny hands reaching out and grabbing onto my arm.

“Shh,” I heard Noah whisper. I peeked an eye open to see Noah pushing Kai down in between me and him. Another small leg kicking me in the stomach. I looked over their heads to take a look at Auston. He had a slight smirk on his face as he lazily grinned at the boys.

“Don’t wake Mama,” Noah whispered, pushing down in between Auston and Kai.

“Yeah don’t wake Mama,” Auston grumbled as he wrapped his arm around them pulling them in tight. Noah let out a loud squeal as he leaned into the touch.

“Papi, it's our birthday,” Kai grinned as he sat up.

“Were five,” Noah cheered.

“I know buds happy birthday,” Auston smiled as he reached out to ruffle Noah’s hair because he was closest to Auston.

“Are we going to have cake?” Noah asked sitting up on the bed causing it to shake.

“Of course bud. Now maybe we should get out of bed and let Mama sleep a bit more,” Auston told them as he helped them off the bed. Auston shuffled them to the door before turning back to me.

“Get a bit more rest and then come down when you're ready,” Auston called out. I nodded in affirmative as I buried myself deeper into my blanket. It was the twins fifth birthday and I couldn't believe how much they had grown. I wanted to get ready so that I could go down and join them but truthfully I hadn't been feeling all too well lately. I laid in bed for another ten minutes as I felt waves of nausea come by but never felt the need to get up.

When I was finally starting to feel a little better I pulled myself out of the bed and made my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth and go pee. Once I was done I made my way down the stairs to hear my three boys cooking in the kitchen.

“Hmm smells nice in here,” I smiled as I walked over to Auston placing a quick kiss on his lips. The boys noticed calling out “ew” as they watched. I turned around with an evil smirk as I made my way over to them.

“Hi babies happy birthday,” I grinned, kneeling in front of them and reaching forward to place a kiss on both of their cheeks. This was one of the twins' first birthdays where we didn’t already have plans. Auston and I had decided that we would ask the twins what they wanted to do and decide from there.

“I want to go to a baseball game!” Kai said right away. Auston and I shared a quick look.

“No. Skate!” Noah denied as he took a bite of his pancakes that were in front of him.

“Don’t eat with your mouth open,” Auston scolded Noah as he turned the stove off. Noah’s mouth immediately snapped shut.

“Can we get a cat?” Kai asked for almost the fifth time in the last week. I looked up to share a look with Auston. We had been talking a lot about it ever since he started asking. We weren't sure at first because neither Auston or myself had ever had a cat before. We were also nervous about the idea of Felix not liking a cat in the home.

“Honey I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. We have Felix,” I told him as I placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Pleasee Charlie has Zues and a cat,” he pointed out as he glanced over to Auston.

“Well that’s true but getting another pet is a big responsibility and cats are very different from dogs,” A look of annoyance crossed Kai’s face for a quick second before relaxing again.

“I know Mama. I asked Charlie all about it. I can do it,” he reassured reaching out to grab my cheeks in his hand.

“I promise,” he said. I let out a small laugh as I reached up to tap his chin.

“I know bud,” I glanced up to look at Auston who was staring at us with a face of wonder.

“Papi can I have more bacon?” Noah asked looking over his chair to look at Auston.

“Yeah,” Auston slipped some bacon onto Noah's plate. When he was done he hovered for a moment before giving me the go ahead.

“Well if your sure that you can take care of a cat then we can go look to the shelter today,” I reached out and gave his shoulder a squeeze. He beamed at me as he hopped out of his seat.

“No way,” he exclaimed jumping up and down. Auston and I let out a laugh as we watched him.

“Way,” Auston teased reaching out to pat Kai on the back. Kai beamed up at Auston before wrapping his small arms around Austons legs. He pulled away and looked at Noah.

“C’mon Noah we have to get ready so we can get a cat,” Kai grabbed Noahs arm and started pulling on it.

“Kai, I’m eating,” Noah whined not moving from his position at the table.

“No we have to get ready so we can leave,” Kai insisted pulling harder. I sent Auston a worried glance as I noticed Noah getting annoyed.

“Kai how about you and I go get ready before Mama and Noah,” Auston suggested as he walked over to put the empty pan in the sink. Kai looked away from Noah to Auston as he let go of Noah.

“Okay Papi,” the two of them made their way out of the kitchen leaving me and Noah. I took a bite of my pancake as I waited out Noah. Out of Kai and Noah, Noah tended to act more like Auston while Kai was more similar to me.

“Mama,” Noah said after a moment. I smiled as I looked away from my food to him.

“Yeah baby?” I asked. He sat still for a moment before he shifted on his seat slightly.

“I really want to skate today,” he mumbled glancing away to look at his food again. I felt my heart ache at the sad tone to his statement.

“We can make that happen,” I told him as I pushed my plate further in front of me.

“Really?” he asked excitedly as he looked up from his food. I gave him a soft nod, his smile grew as he stood up from his chair.

“I’ll go get ready,” he exlcalimed before making his way out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I let out a soft sigh as I started picking all the dishes up. Once I had everything in the dishwasher I made my way upstairs to out bedroom.

“Noah wants to skate and I think we should do that first,” I told Auston as I entered our bedroom, he was just hopping out of the shower and had a towel tied around his waste. Auston gave a small nod as he walked further into the room.

“Are we really about to get a cat?” Auston asked once he was in the closet. I let out a sigh as I laid down on the bed.

“I guess.” Auston was quiet for a moment as he dressed himself. He walked out of the closet and over to the bed. He sat next to me wrapping his arm around me.

“I know nothing about cats,” Auston mumbled as he leaned his face into my neck.

“My freshman year roommate had a cat in our dorm. It was really gross to be honest. The litter box was really messy and smelled really bad. She never cleaned it though so but the cat liked me more then her. Also the wet food smelled terrible,” I ranted as I remembered the horrible time I lived in the dorm with a random roommate with a cat. Our room had smelled like the zoo always, I had spent most of that year spending time at my abusive exes because of how bad our room smelled.

“I read though that you can keep the litter box anywhere and we just have to make sure to clean up the poop which we do for Felix anyway. Now itll just force us to be more on top of cleaning that up inside and outside. I’m afraid of Felix being uncomfortable though,” I told Auston as I rubbed my hand up and down his arm.

“I asked Mitch about it he said he brought Zues with so they met before hand,” he mumbled as he pressed a kiss to my neck.

“Okay so will go skate somewhere and then come back then go to the shelter,” I listed as I pushed him away gently. He stared down at me with lust in his eyes.

“Okay,” he said. I pushed myself up from the bed. I needed to get dressed and ready.

----

“Papi can you help me” Kai called out as he tried to get his laces tied. When Noah and Kai were ready to play sports we got them involved in everything. They both picked out a favorite real quickly. Noah loved hockey and Kai loved baseball, they both tolerated the other sport but they had favorites.

“Mama are we going to see Charlie today?” Noah asked as he laced up his skates the best he could.

“I don’t know sweetie,” I told him as I kneeled in front of him to check on his laces. I helped him up from the bench once I was done. He grinned as he stood up.

“I’m ready,” he grinned as he made his way over to the ice. I followed closely behind, Auston and Kai were still sitting on the bench. I stepped out onto the ice before Noah. I steddied myself before turning to face Noah. At first when Auston and I had started dating I wasn’t all the great at skating. I had gotten better over the time that I had known Auston.

“Mama can we play hockey,” Noah questioned as we skated around the ice. I let out a soft laugh.

“I don’t have any hockey stuff baby,” I reached out and ruffled his hair. He huffed letting go of my hand to stop.

“Papi,” Noah called out as he truend around. Auston glanced up from Kai as the two stepped onto the ice.

“Yeah bud?” Auston asked as he held on to Kai’s hand. Kai was not very stedy on skates as Noah was.

“Can we play hockey?” he asked racing over to Auston and stopping right in front of him. My jaw dropped slightly at how well he was skating for five years old. Auston glanced over at me as he sent me a questioning look. I gave Auston a nod as I skated over to them reaching out for Kai to grab onto my arm.

Noah and Auston started playing some hockey on one side of the ice while Kai and I stayed in the safety of the other side. Kai let out a loud giggle as he watched Noah and Auston play.

“Mama, I want to go sit on the bench,” Kai said moments later as he got tired of skating. I quickly led us in the direction of the bench. We both sat down and watched Auston and Noah goof around.

----

“Mama, how much longer?” Kai asked as he tried to get more comfortable in his carseat.

“Not to long sweetie,” I reassured as I turned the music up just a little bit. After we were done skating we had stopped by and picked up Felix, we were now on our way to the foster home for kittens. Auston pulled up to the foster house and then put the car in park.

“I want a brown cat,” Kai said as he pulled his blanket up to his chin.

“Oh do you bud?” I asked with a small laugh. He gave a big nod as he stretched out. We had only been driving for thirty minutes. Felix sat up from where he was laying on the ground of the car. We both hopped out of the car and made our way to the back. I helped Kai out while Auston woke Noah up. When we were all out of the car we made our way to the front door. Auston was carrying a sleepy Noah but he reached out to ring the doorbel. Moments later the door was being pulled open and we came face to face with an older woman.

“Hi Lucy, I’m Amelia this is my husband Auston,” I smiled holding my hand out. She gave me a soft smile as she reached out to shake my hand.

“Come in, come in. Barney is getting all the kittens together right now,” she grinned as she let us into the house. My nose scrunched up at the smell slightly and causing a wave of nausea to flare up, I immediately got it under control. I grabbed onto Kai’s hand leading him into the house. Lucy lead us down to the basement where there was a group of small kittens laying down within a fence.

“We brought our dog, Felix,” I told Lucy as I helped Kai inside the fence. She nodded her head.

“Good that’ll be helpful to picking out what cat to get,” she told us as she handed a bag of treats to us.

“Why dont you go get him now,” she said turning to face Auston. He quickly nodded handing the sleepy Noah over to me. I held on to him tightly as Auston left the room. Noah let out a sigh as he snuggled closer.

“Mama look at this one,” Kai sighed as he held up a small brown kitten to me. I gave him a small smile as I reached out to pet the cat.

“That is Leo,” Lucy said as she handed a treat to Kai so he could give it to the cats.

“He might not be the best fit with a dog,” she trailed off looking at me. I nodded my head as I turned to face Kai.

“Who’s this?” I asked him as I picked up the cat that was sitting in his lap. He looked away from leo to the cat in his lap. He smiled softly as he looked down at the cat that was in his lap.

“That’s Shelia,” Lucy smiled as she reached out to push one of the cats into the pen. Kai let out a soft smile as he ran his hand through her fur. She cuddled up further into Kai. I let out a soft grin as I took the two of them in. They were so perfect.

“Alright here’s Felix,” Auston grinned as he made his way into the room with Felix. Noah stirred in my arms before asking me to let him down. I listened to him setting him next to Kai. Auston walked up next to me and wrapped his arm around my waist pulling me in. Felix started sniffing at the gate door where the cats were with Kai. One of the cats hissed loudly reaching its arm out of the gate Felix let out a loud bark as he backed up.

“Yeah some of them really don’t like dogs but a few of them do. We have dogs ourself so they are used to having a dog around. Just some can be a little aggressive about it,” she told us as she reached in to pick up the cat that hissed at Felix. I shared a look with Auston before I kneeled down in front of the gate.

“Noah do you want to meet the cats?” I asked softly as I set him on the ground. He pulled his face out of my neck to look at Kai surrounded by the cats.

“Okay Mommy,” he mumbled as he let go of me. I helped him inside the gate and he joined Kai. The cat that was sitting in Kai’s lap glanced at Noah and then back at Kai. She gave a confused look as she looked between the two again. I let out a small laugh at her confusion. She hopped up from Kai’s lap and started smelling Noah.

“Shelia is pretty,” Kai mumbled reaching out to pet her again. She leaned into his touch.

“Yeah she is baby,” I grinned. I pushed myself up so I could face Auston and Lucy.

“Should we introduce her to Felix?” I asked Auston with a raised eyebrow. He glanced down at where Felix was sat behind his legs.

“How about you take her out of there so the other cats don’t go crazy,” Lucy suggested. I smiled as I helped Noah out of the gated off area. Once he was out I helped Kai. The three of us walked over to Auston and Felix. The cat let out a soft meow from Kai’s arms.

“Mama. Can we have her?” Kai asked as he sat down in front of Felix. I held my breath as Felix walked over to sniff the two of them timidly. The cat looked visibly shooken for a second before doing her own sniff test on Felix. I sent Auston a questioning look. Where we really about to buy a cat? He sent me back a look of his own shrugging his shoulders as he lowered himself to the ground between Felix and Shelia.

“If your sure shes what you want,” I answered after a moment. Kai and Noah both looked at me eagerly as they nodded their heads.

“Yes!” Kai exclaimed reaching out to throw his arms around my leg. I let out a soft laugh as I glanced to Lucy.

“Will take her,” I grinned as I reached down my hand to run it through Kai’s soft hair.

“Oh perfect I’ll go get the paper work now,” she smild before darting up the stairs leaving us alone. I sat down next to my boys.

“Mama?” Noah questioned as he looked away from the kitten to me.

“Yeah baby?”

“Do we have to keep her name Shelia or can we change it?” he asked.

“We can do whatever you boys want,” I told him reaching out to rub his back.

“Okay Papi what should we name her?” Noah asked turning to Auston. I let out a loud laugh at Auston’s shocked face.

“I dont know why are you asking me?” he questioned as he rached out to rub Felix behind his ear. Shelia and Felix seemed to be getting along, I noticed.

“Mama said you named Felix,” Noah stated as he pointed to Felix. I sent Auston a baffled look. I had told the twins about that so long, at the time I wasnt even sure if they were listening.

“Well yeah I did but that’s because I got him when I didn’t know mama,” Auston told him as he reached out to ruffle his hair. Noah batted his hand away with a laugh.

“Do you guys like any names?” I asked them as I reached out to pet the cat myself. Kai looked thoughtful as he stared down at the kitten while Noah looked back and forth between the two of us before exgrataedly throwing his arms up in the air.

“If I had names would I be asking,” he declared. Auston laughed at our dramatic sun causing him to pout in Auston’s direction.

“Papi dont laugh at me im in crisis,” he whined laying back so his head rested in Auston’s lap causing all the adults in the room to laugh.

“Crisis whered you get that from?” Auston reached his hand down to run it through Noah’s hair again. This time Noah relaxed into the touch.

“Mitch,” Noah responded causing Auston to let out a snort. Of course Mitch.

“What about Holly,” Noah muttered as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Kai glanced up from the cat with a look of disgust.

“No,” Kai responded before Auston or I could say anything.

“Rebecca,” Noah suggested. Kai stared at him for a moment before looking back down at the kitten.

“We aren’t naming our cat after Rebecca,” Kai scolded Noah. I shared a quick questioning look with Auston. Who was Rebecca?

“Well what should we name her then,” Noah asked annoyance seeping into his tone.

“Here’s the paperwork,” Lucy smiled holding it up. Auston pushed himself off the floor so he could go take care of that. Around fifteen minutes later Auston made his way back into the room.

“She’s officially ours,” he announced. Kai cheered as he struggled to stand up with her still in his arms. I reached out to help him so he wouldnt fall.

“Can we go home now?” he asked excitedly. I nodded my head as I helped Noah up next.

“Yeah let’s go.”

We all walked out and hopped in the car.

“Everyone buckled?” Auston asked as he put the car in drive. We all said yes and he started the drive home.

“Mama!” Kai called out slightly panicked causing me to turn around quickly so I could see what was going on.  

“I don’t think she likes the car,” He said as he held her away from his body. My eyes zeroed in on her sharp claws that were coming out. Shit.

“Okay um. Put her down,” I told him. He looked at me with wide eyes probably not sure how to do it without either one of them getting hurt.

“Auston pull over,” I told him. He let out a sigh as he did what I said. Once we were on the shoulder I hopped out of the car and opened Kais door. I reached in and grabbed the cat from Kai’s hands. She scratched at me right away causing me to let out a soft ‘ow’ but I held her tight  and she calmed down.

“Mama your bleeding,” Kai cried out as he reached for my arm. I pulled away before he could touch and make a mess.

“It’s okay. I’m fine,” I reassured him as I shut his door. I climbed back into the car with the cat cuddled tightly against my chest.

“Your bleeding?” Auston asked reaching out but I shook my head no.

“It’s fine she scratched me just drive so we can be home,” I told him a little snappily. He glanced at me confused for a moment but nodded his head and merged back onto the road.

“Sorry,” I mumbled over the music. Auston glanced at me for a moment staying silent.

“I’m just really tired. I didn’t mean to sound so snappy,” I told him softly.

“You’ve been really tired a lot lately,” he stated as he reached over to rest his hand on my thigh. I let out a sigh as I leaned my head back against the headrest.

----

“Babe c’mon wake up,” Auston told me as he rubbed his hand up and down my thigh. I jolted awake to see that we were parked in our garage the kitten still cuddled to my body.  

“Were home?” I asked looking around. He nodded as he stepped back from the door and helped me out of the car.

“Are you okay? You completely passed out on the way home,” his asked concern seeping into his voice. I nodded as I hopped out of the car. We both made our way into the house the boys already running into the living room with Felix hot on their heels. I leaned down and put the cat on the ground before slipping out of my shoes. When I was standing up straight Austons arm wrapped around my waist.

“Babe whats going on?” he asked as he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. I relaxed into his hold leaning my body weight against him. I was honestly just so exhausted all I wanted to do was lay down.

“I’m fine. I just havent been sleeping well,” I let us hug for another few moments before pulling away so that I could walk into the living room.

“Hi boys,” I smiled at them as I sat on the couch. Auston went to let Felix out into the backyard while the boys sat on the floor with the cat in the middle of them.

“Have we settled on a name?” Auston asked as he walked into the living room Felix following him. Auston sat on the couch lifting my legs up before dropping them into his laugh. His hands started giving my feet a massage causing me to let out a deep breath as I felt myself getting more tired.

“Mama,” Noah called out climbing onto the couch so that he was between my body and the couch.

“Yeah baby?” I mumbled out.

“Can I nap with you?” he asked as he cuddled into me wrapping his little arm around my stomach.

“Of course.”

“No,” Kai said walking over and tugging on my arm slightly aggressively.

“Kai dont pull on your mothers arm like that,” Auston told him sternly. Kai mumbled an apology as he sat on the ground again.

“You can’t nap until we name her,” he said sadly.

“Okay,” I pushed myself up slightly so that I could wake up a bit.

“What about Sandy?” I suggested. Kai shook his head no as he moved the feather around for the cat.

“Sarah,” Noah mumbled into my hip.

“No.”

“Bud you can’t turn everything down without giving any suggestions,” Auston told him softly. A soft pout took over Kais face as pulled the cat onto his chest as he laid on the ground.

“When I was a little girl I had a stuffed animal that my mother gave me named Sunshine,” I started to say only to be cut off by a small gasp.

“Sunshine,” Kai grinned causing me to send him a soft smile of my own.

“Yeah you like that?” I asked. He giggled as he looked down at the cat.

“Yeah. Noah do you like it?” Kai asked looking over to his brother.

“Sure.. I want to sleep,” Noah mumbled.

“Why don’t Mama and Noah go upstairs to nap and me and you put on a movie,” Auston suggested to Kai.

“I want to watch a movie too,” Noah sleepliy reached up to rub his eyes with his small fist.

“Cars,” they both answered when Auston asked what they wanted to watch. I drifted off with a smile on my face.

----

I groaned as I turned my face further into the couch cusion. I felt Noah’s knee digging into my lower back. I slowly blinked my eyes open glancing at the tv. It was playing the end credits of the movie while Auston and Kai were no longer in the room. I felt a wave of nausea hit causing me to push myself up. After a moment it wasnt passing so I took off for the closest bathroom.

“Mama are you okay?” Noah asked as he walked into the bathroom. I shook my head not wanting him to see me like this.

“Go get your father,” I told him through my gagging. Noah left following direction right away and not even five minutes later Auston was standing at the door.

“Hey,” Auston shushed as he crowded behind me pulling my hair back.

“Your okay,” he rubbed his hand up and down my back gently.

“Papi,” Noah called from outside of the bathroom. I took a deep breath as I leaned away from the toilet feeling done.

“Yeah bud?” Auston called out.

“Is Mama okay?” he asked quietly. I felt my heart break at his tone. I shakily pushed myself up and made my way over to the door. I pulled it open to see Kai and Noah standing there.

“Mama’s fine,” I reassured them as I reached out to ruffle their hair.

“I am going to go upstairs and brush my teeth and then will make dinner,” I told them. They both nodded their heads before running off to the living room.

“Babe,” Auston sighed as his hand slipped to my waist. I leaned my head against his chest as I took a deep breath of my own.

“Get started. I’ll be right down,” I squezzed him tightly before letting go and making my way upstairs. I knew that Auston was starting to get frustrated, it was ovibous that something was wrong but I didn’t know what exactly. I made my way into the bathroom once I was in our room and to my cabinet. I reached into the back and pulled out the extra pregnancy test I had stored in the back.

I let out a shaky breath as I opened the packet. I wasnt sure but I was feeling the exact same way I had felt when I was pregnant with the twins. The throwing up and the tiredness was leading me to believe that it was maybe something more then the flu. I followed the instructions on the test and then set it on the counter as I set the five minute timer.

Truthfully I was nervous about what the test was going to say. Auston and I hadnt really had a chance to talk about if we wanted to have more kids or not. We were so lucky to have even fall pregnant in the first place and when we found out it was twins we were delighted. I wasnt sure how Auston would react if I was pregnant again. The timer on my phone went off.

I took a deep breath as I made my way back into the bathroom to look at the test.

----

“Papi. Is Mama okay?” I heard Noah ask Auston as I got to the end of the stairs. I tiptoed my way over to the entrance of the kitchen.

“Yeah bud she’s just really tired,” he told him reaching out to tap his shoulder. The three of them were at the counter getting dinner ready. Auston was cutting something up on the cutting board while Auston had given the twins a bowl filled with something that they were tasked with mixing.

“But she was throwing up,” Kai pointed out.

“Rebeccas mom was throwing up and then she went to the hospital,” Noah mumbled loudly enough for everyone to hear. I felt my heart break at the boys concern. Auston stopped his cutting and set the knife down and leaned forward.

“Alright little doods listen. Rebeccas mom was a different situation. Mama has just been really tired because it’s the end of the season and she needs help. When I’m away for my games she gets tired. She needs a really big nap,” he told them.

“I could nap with her,” Kai said comfortably. Auston nodded his head seriously.

“Good. this will work. What about you Noah?” Auston asked with a grin.

“Yes!” Noah nodded his head enthusiastically.

“Hi boys,” I called as I walked into the kitchen. Noah and Kai grinned happily while Auston sent me a worried look.

“I hid a present for both of you in your room with a bow. Go find it,” I told them with a smile. They both jumped out of their chair excitedly as they ran towards the stairs. Auston stared at me in shock for a moment.

“You just stole my helpers,” he told me. I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around his stomach once I was standing behind him. I rested my chin on his back.

“I’m pregnant,” I mumbled. He stopped what he was doing as he slowly turned around.

“What?” he asked softly.

“I uh just took a test. I’m pregnant,” I let a small smile out hoping he would be happy about this.

“Oh my god,” he leaned forward and pressed a deep kiss to my lips, I gasped in shock allowing him to slip his tongue in. I pulled back so that I could rest my forehead against his.

“I’ll have to set up an appointment to know for sure but yeah,” I told him. His grin widened as he pulled me in tighter so that he could hug me.

“No way,” Noah screamed. I let out a soft laugh.

“Must have found his gift.” Auston laughed as he leaned forward again to connect our lips.

A.N: Surprise! So I really just started writing this because I wanted the Matthews family to have a cat and then it somehow turned into this whole thing?? Anyway I hope y'all enjoyed! 

[yamithediaperdork]

My Little Brothers revenge Part 1

My little brothers revenge

The Hickman's were for the most part a average middle class family. both the parents worked and they had two children.

A 12 year old named Justin who had natural blond hair in a brush cut though he currently had it dyed indigo blue to go with his icy blue eyes. He had a jock's build (well as much as one could have at that age) and wasn't scared to use his physical power to his advantage.

his little brother Alex was short for his age and was always being mistaken for a 6 year old or worse when he was 9 and a half. He had red hair that went down to his shoulders and he kept in a pony tail and his checks were sprinkled with freckles.His slim body meant he was last to be picked for any sports though unlike his brother he was a strait A student and actually sometimes had to help his older brother with his homework, a fact that neither of them enjoyed.

It was their mother Anne (who Alex took after in appearance) who insisted that he help his big brother and it always ended with Justin pissed off and Alex hanging from a bed post by his sponge bob underoo's.

Their father who Justin took after in appearance refused to believe his little all star could be such a bully and so it was usually left to Alex to figure out a way to hold his own or go and whine to their mother, getting him labeled a mama's boy.

Still all brothers fight, it was just a fact of life and it might of all just gone this way with them being a semi happy family till the day the bully of a big brother took things a step too far and Alex decided that Justin had to be put in his place once and for all.

Alex had been hanging out with his friends Saturday afternoon, playing video games in the living room and having semi pissed off Justin who had wanted to watch a movie with HIS friends.

But mom and dad made sure that the TV time was shared and that both boys got a block of time and with their parents just down the block, Justin knew better then to try and strong arm them out.

Said friends were Kyle and Lyle, twins from down the block who had a semi creepy habit of finishing each others sentences and had light caramel skin and black hair in matching mushroom cuts. it was easy enough to tell them apart as by a semi quick of fate Lyle had brown eyes while Kyle had green.

Missing in action because he'd gone fishing with his dad was Max, anther shrimp who had dirty blond hair in a short Mohawk (his attempt to look cool which had backfired) and was so white he looked pale most of the time.

being shrimps themselves they had hit it off well with Alex and had formed a semi losers club of sorts, though Alex wasn't found of the name the twins who loved anything Steven king had insisted and he was out voted 2 to 1 since Max had joined the group after.

the boys were doing a retro gaming session of sorts, playing downloaded old games on a new machine and the game of choice for the moment was Ninja turtles two.

"Man, this game is so bad.." Lyle spoke up, playing as Leonardo.

"That it's almost good!" Kyle finished and was playing as Ralph.

"heh, that the fun part of these old games..you know they were giving it their all but just were limited." Alex said.

all three of them were seated on the hard wood floor of the living room though they had spread out a blanket since despite the chill of the October air his parents had refused to turn on the heat yet.

the twins nodded and Alex went to say something else when he hear the booming footsteps of his brother then a familiar stink hit his nose.

'No way, he wouldn't!' Alex thought.

"Hey Little Alexandra, Didn't mom tell you to toss out your pissy wet diapie when you got changed this morning? It's bad enough your a bed wetter, do you have to leave your soggy huggies around?" Justin asked.

and indeed Justin was holding out a totally soaked Spider-man print diaper in front of him, holding it with just a finger and his thumb and holding his nose.

Behind him were his friend Adam (Nicknamed grizz or grizzly because of his girth and wildly unkempt brown hair) and Rayne, actually a year younger then the other two but a head taller and so very, very much stupider. Rayne kept his head shaved because he thought it made him look more like the pro wrestlers that he so so loved.

"is that-" Lyle asked, pausing the game and turning to look.

"-A diaper?" Kyle finished, raising a eyebrow.

"JUSTIN! Mom told you not show people those! and I DID toss it out!" Alex huffed and whined, his cheeks going crimson then adding. "And DON'T call me Alexandra!"

"Whatever you say pamper pisser. Look, I went to go into our room to get something and was assaulted by the stink of your bed wetter pants." Justin said and then tossed the soggy thing at Alex, hitting him in the face and knocking him over.

the truth was Alex KNEW he'd tossed the diaper out this morning, he wasn't allowed to toss his very much needed bed time diapers out in the house trash because Dad and Justin would raise a fuss about it stinking up the house and he'd had to wait five minutes because the paper boy had stopped to talk to Mr. Johnson next door.

"JUSTIN GROSS!" Alex whined and sat up, whining and now smelling like stale pee.

"Whatever dork, go and toss your diaper out then take a shower..me and the guys are gonna start our movie early. Wonder twins, I'm sure you don't wanna stick around and hang out with a pamper packer like my little brother right?" Justin said.

"Hey! Leave him alone!" Lyle huffed and went to put a supportive hand on Alex's shoulder, but then pulled it back.

he was with his friend but that didn't mean he wanted to get any of the ick on him.

"What he said! Everyone matures differently! Heck, Lyle only just stopped needing a night light this year!" Kyle said, then pout his hands over his mouth as his brother glared at him.

"...Pfffftt BWHAHAHAHAHA!" all three big bullies broke into gut busting laughter.

"I'm not the one who has to suck on a pacifier during thunder storms!" Lyle shot back and blew a raspberry at his twin who huffed and glared.

the bullies naturally were loving it as the twins only dug themselves in deeper and Alex just face palmed.

"Guys, you're NOT helping yourselves." He pointed out.

"Oh my god, it's a group of BABIES! No wonder they all get along!" Grizz laughed, slapping his leg.

"I bet their next sleep over is gonna have them in a crib." Rayne added.

"Alright pamper packers, out of the living room, this movie is PG 13 and I don't want you all blorting your pants when something scary happens. Wonder twins, get your asses home. Alexandra, go take a shower AFTER you toss out your pissy diaper." Justin said, unable to believe just how well all of this had worked out.

"Whatever jerk.." Alex huffed and got up.

he saw his friends off though the twins were still semi huffing and fighting, shoving each other as the walked away and Alex got his wet diaper tossed out without anyone seeing him.

as he went upstairs and got his shower ready one thing was on his mind.

'This means war. I'm gonna make him feel EXACTLY how embarrassing being seen in diapers around your fiends is.' Alex vowed to himself.

Ok, he had no idea HOW he was going to do so, but while Justin may of won the first battle, it was going to be Alex who won the war and prove his Brain's out did his brother brawn.

The movie was going about as well as could be expected since they had to keep pausing it to have anther laugh at just how dorky Alex and his friends were.

Of course Rayne and Grizz had known for awhile (even if Justin technically wasn't suppose to of told them) about Alex being a diaper filler. (and he might of exaggerated what all Alex used his diapers for)

Maybe a SMALL part of Justin had felt sorry for Alex being humiliated like that in front of his friends, but Grizz had actually come up with the idea and he didn't wanna look like a pussy in front of the guys.

Besides with it coming out that the twins were just as big of dorks as his little brother any real guilt had vanished and he toyed with the idea of dragging out Alex's old play pen out of the basement for the next time he had all his dorky friends over.

'heh, get some pacifiers to shut'em up..put them all in Alex's diapers and take lots of pictures. boom, homework and chore bitches till I graduate.' Justin thought with a smirk and chuckled.

"what's so funny? Oooo and I know that look. Someone's had a evil thought." Grizz asked.

"Heh.. How would you guys feel about making some diapered nerds do our homework for us?" Justin asked.

"well, could be funny, but where are we gonna find some?" Rayne asked.

"..." Grizz roiled his eyes

"...Rayne buddy just smile and listen." Justin said semi sweat dropping.

"I can do that!" Rayne said with a big toothy grin.

Shaking his head Justin started to explain his evil plan, and his friends laughed and chuckled, and were MORE then on board.

Getting out of the shower and drying off, Alex got dressed in a pair of black jogging pants and a t-shirt then sat on his bed with his laptop.

He tried different google searches trying to figure out just how to get his brother back in diapers but for the most part it ended up giving him story link's that he bookmarked to look over later and see if there was anything usable.

He did find a forum called little brothers revenge and it had some really wicked ideas for the most part, but only two threads popped up when he searched for diaper.

the first one was clearly bull with it talking about how this kid had pooped in a diaper and hide it in his big brothers room and gotten the big brother in trouble (and even if it wasn't, Alex would hold off crapping himself as a weapon of last resort.)

the other thread was old, and had been posted just before Christmas of last year and had a little brother talk about how he had set his brother up to look like he wanted diapers for Christmas and his dad had fallen for it, and so had the rest of the family.

Of course there was a lot of disbelief in the read over that and one guy commented 'pics or your full of shit!'

As Alex scrolled down, he pretty much thought the same but then his jaw dropped as there was a picture of a sleeping boy, in a t-shirt and thick diapers and sucking on a paci and a younger boy was in frame too, it was a semi selfie and was smirking and giving the peace sign. the caption under the picture read 'Believe me now bitches?'

"Hoooly shitttttt." Alex said, this guy was his hero!

he didn't seem to be activate on the forum anymore though, there were a bout a dozen replies and a few more comments from the guy but then he vanished.

his user profile did have a e-mail attached to it and so Alex snagged it and went to write the guy a e-mail.

From: Alexander_the_awesome@gmail.com

To: Ben_better@Hotmail.com

Subject: DUDE YOUR MY HERO!

Hey just wanted to say, I saw your post on Little brothers revenge and wanted to say how awesome that was and also I was wondering if you had any advice or tips on getting a big brother in padding. mine's being a total butt hole lately and just ugggghhh @_@

I had one idea about maybe like peeing on his bed after he gets up to frame him for bed wetting, what do you think? hope to hear from you soon!

E-mail written Alex clicked send and then went to kill some time play a few games online, never once suspecting that while he was trying to plot his big brother diaper doom, he was likewise plotting out Alex's downstairs.

It was a hour latter when Alex heard the ding that told him he'd gotten a reply and he switched tabs to go and take a look.

From: Ben_better@hotmail.com

To: Alexander_the_awesome@gmail.com

Subject: Re:DUDE YOUR MY HERO

Heh, thanks for the high praise though I gotta warn you, first of all this is something you've gotta be reallllly careful with. Diaper humiliation is a double edged sword, trust me. Had a friend named Ken who tried this and now he's in diapers.

Anyways just taking a leak on your big bro's bed is dumb, you'll get busted for sure! what I'd recommend is making use of laxatives and pee pills in increasing doses till he's wetting his pants all the time and blorting them too. It's a longer game but better results.

what made you wanna get his butt back in diapers anyways, and FYI i expect 'baby pictures' when your plan works.

Alex thought about that for a second and couldn't help but wonder if maybe this 'ken' was really Ben, but pushed that thought out of his head as he started to write his reply.

From: Alexander_the_awesome@gmail.com

To: Ben_better@Hotmail.com

Subject: Re:Re:DUDE YOUR MY HERO!

Oh well, I'm a bed wetter and the butt hole went and fished one of my soggy diapers out of the trash and threw it at me while I was hanging out with my friends, trying to say i never tossed it out. so trust me, he totes has this coming.

I really got nothing to lose if I get busted since I'm in huggies every night so I'll try out your plan. it works out because he likes to make me get him drinks and snacks.

as for the picture of him once he's back in huggies heh, sure. thanks for the advice and I'll let you know when the plan starts to work.

E-mail sent Alex closed his e-mail and his game tab then went searching online for the best med's to get to reduce his brother to a helpless pants wetting stinker, only to pause after a few minutes recalling that Max had gotten in trouble awhile back for causing a series of messy accidents around school.

'nggggh..no way he'll be back yet though. I'll go and talk to him tomorrow.' Alex thought and set his laptop aside and laid back on his bed, thinking about just how much fun he was gonna have and ended up conking out.

which was unfortunate as he hadn't put on one of his spider-man diapers and with in ten minutes a wet patch was starting to grow on the front of his jogging pants, which while the dark color would hide it, the tan covered blanket he was laying on wouldn't.

"So when do you think we can do this?" Grizz asked.

the movie was basically forgotten but had been kept on to cover up their voices on the off chance Alex came downstairs (Small chance of that) or if their parents came back early.

"Welll that's the tricky part. I have to have all four of the dweebs here AND have my parents gone. they're going on a weekend trip in about 2 weeks though so I'll try and convince the dweeb to get the loser's club all over here." Justin said.

Rayne, who had just shut his mouth like he'd been told to raised his hand like he was in class.

"heh, Yes Rayne?" Justin asked.

"Aren't they into that dice game, Dragons and prison or whatever?" he asked.

"..Dungeons and dragons, yeah." Justin chuckled.

"Same difference. anyways, say you've been reading up on it and wanna try your hand at hosting a game, but just want them over before you embarrasses yourself in front of us.Most nerds I know love to play and will jump at the chance." Rayne said and smiled.

"Sweet fucking cthulhu. Rayne had a good idea." Grizz chuckled and to patted the bigger boys head. "good boy!"

Rayne beamed and was clearly proud of himself and Justin chuckled.

"Ok, I'll just have to learn enough about this nerd stuff to fake it and get them over. you guys will have to be ready to help though, I don't wanna risk one of the losers getting away." Justin said nodding.

"Hey, as long as I don't have to change any shitty asses I'm in." Grizz said.

"Wait, your gonna make them USE the diapers?" Rayne said and then laughed lots. "Gross!"

"Heh, well the best blackmail is a sobbing little brat in a stinky diaper blackmail. no way the dweeb will risk him in all his smelly glory ending up ALL over town."

"Man, I am glad your not MY big brother." Rayne said, never mind the fact Justin was pretty sure if he tried anything on the semi giant he'd be the one in huggies.

"Eh, No worries. you'd be a awesome little bro. Now all we need to do is go and pick the perfect pampers for them."

"Oh, I got it! There's this discount store my mom drags me to because they have her cream of wheat and other junk she likes cheap, but they got in a shipment of over night diapers for big kids, boys and girls. the boys has rockets and stars on them and are blue." Grizz said, setting up the best part.

"Oh, this is gonna be good." Justin smirked.

"the girls has unicorns and rainbows and are pink!" Grizz finished and cackled.

Plans set for his brother's diapered humiliation, the boys finally turned they're attention back to the movie.

After the movie it was getting late and so Justin sent the guys home as technically speaking they weren't suppose to be over, only him or Alex could have friends over for the most part if mom and dad weren't home. (Weekend vacations were the exception, though their folks made it clear the house had been be clean when they got back)

Whoever had their friends over was also suppose to clean up after them and after a chip fight in the living room Justin smirked, knowing he could get Alex to clean the mess up, since it would be Alex and his friend getting blamed for the mess.

Of course Justin usually made Alex clean up after him and his friends anyways but that always took a little bit more effort in the form of using the dorks undies to bounce him like a yo yo if he didn't listen.

He toyed with leaving Alex sulking in their room where he been since the shower and just letting the dweeb get in trouble but since it was Justin's turn to start dinner so it'd be ready and he didn't feel like cooking, he had to get Alex downstairs anyways to be a good little chore bitch.

"This will be SO much easier once I have the blackmail on him." Justin sighed to himself as he made his way up the stairs to the boys shared bedroom.

Opening the door he went to go and say something but was hit by the stench of piss and a quick look confirmed the little bed soaker had gone night night without a pamper on.

"Hey dork face! wake up! you pissed the bed!" Justin said in a loud voice.

"Ngggh a gigi boo..Five more minutes mommy.." the still mostly asleep dweeb said, trying to shoo Justin away.

"heh, baby talk? really? Wow, just when I think you can't lower the bar any more Little bro.. ALEXANDRA! WAKE UP!" Justin said then cupped a hand to his mouth and yelled.

Alex jumped sort in bed then sat up, eyes wide and panting, looking around.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?" He growled once he locked eyes on Justin."ARE YOU TRYING TO GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK?!"

"No, but you had a wetting attack dork." Justin said and pointed.

Alex went to say something then looked down and went from pissed off to blushing and tried to cover himself up.

"Ah crap crap crap crap!" Alex whined and got up off the bed.

this was NOT good. not good at ALL! Dad was already riding him on the bed wetting and if he found out Alex had soaked the bed from a little nap he would NOT hear the end of it, or worse, dad would make him wear ALL day tomorrow!

"Ah..ah..Justin big brother who I love ever so much.." Alex started, swallowing and trying to put on his best 'I'm so cute help me' faces.

"Save it dweeb. I'll keep my mouth shut about your little..well BIG accident as long as you go and be a good little chore bitch and get the living room cleaned up and start supper." Justin said and leaned on the door frame, a evil smirk on his face.

Considering his options Alex just hung is head and then did a small nod.

"Butttt to show you I'm not totally heartless..I got some clothes that need to be washed so you can do them and wash your sheet at the same time as a cover up. I know, my kindness knows no bounds. just be thankful mom got you that rubber sheet or you'd be going to sleep in a soggy bed tonight." Justin said and laughed.

'gee he's all heart. letting me do his landry and clean up AND cook.. ' Alex thought but it WAS better then trying to explain the sheet alone.

"Yeah ok.." He said finally and went to strip stripping the bed.

"ah ah ah, what do you say to your kind and wonderful brother for helping you out?" Justin said, milking this for all it was worth.

'He has to be..ok no, I know him better then that.. just keep digging your grave jerk.' Alex thought then took a deep calming breath.

"Thank you for letting me do your landry big brother." he said, clenching a fist.

"Anytime dork. not get to it, you don't have a whole lotta time. my clothes are in the hamper in the bathroom." Justin said and started to walk away, then poked his head back in. "Oh and dweeb? next time don't forget to put on your diapies when your going for your afternoon nap."

and with that he walked off laughing.

"...I'm SO going to enjoy getting him in diapers." Alex huffed.

Changing into a pair of clean spider-man shorts and a captain America t-shirt, Alex got the load of landry started and then went to work cleaning up the living room while keeping a eye on the time.

the chips were everywhere and every time he though he was done he'd spot some more and wondered how much the three bullies had actually managed to get in their stupid fat mouths.

Between the cleaning and getting landry switched over he didn't have time to make anything too special so he went with the old stand by of making macaroni and cheese with hot dogs as it was quick and simple and his parents never really expected Justin to go all out when he was cooking anyways.

Dinner was ready and the landry was finished by the time their parents got home, Alex just had to go and get it out of the dryer but he figured he'd have time to do it stealthy after eating.

"So, what did you boys do for fun today?" Dad asked as they were sitting at the dinner table, a small grimace on his face at the prospect of eating the old stand by.

"Oh well-" Alex started by Justin cut him off.

"It was pretty much same old same old for me, went out and played some football with the guys and had fun. Came back though and I think The twins brought over some super sugar loaded snacks or something because Alex and them where have a chip fight and trashed the living room. it was cute though." Justin said and smirked, winking at Alex who's jaw hung open.

"Alex, you didn't!" Mom signed and shook her head. "After supper you'll be cleaning up the living room!"

"Oh don't worry about it mom, I know little guys like him just need to get it out of their systems. after the twins went home he was super pooped though, think it was a sugar crash so let him go and take a nap and I cleaned up the living room." Justin lied.

"Well that was was nice of you Justin, but in the future leave the cleaning for Alex to do." Dad said and shook his head at Alex. "Alex, we've talked about this."

Alex for his part was stuttering now, trying to think of a way to prove his innocence without getting scolded but first shots had been fired by Justin and there was nothing he could do now.

"Alex did you say thank you to Justin for cleaning up after you?" Mom asked and her tone made it clear if he hadn't she expected him to now, but again Justin spoke up.

"Oh, he's already thanked me for something else. see somebody was just SO sleepy when he went for his nap that he forgot to get his bed wetter pants on and well, Let's just say it's a good thing I had to do a load of landry anyways." Justin said as Alex,'s jaw dropped.

"Y-You said..you.." Alex stammered.

"Alex! what have I told you about not going to sleep without one of your diapers on?" Dad asked in a sharp tone.

"N-Not to do it again or..or.." Alex whined, looking down and feeling ready to cry.

this wasn't fair! he'd done everything Justin had asked him too and he was still gonna get punished!

"Or you'll be spending the next day in your diapers all day. Now I was hoping NOT to have to use that punishment but clearly you've left me no choice. you can still use the potty of course, in fact I encourage it, but you WILL be in diapers all day tomorrow." Dad said.

His tone left no room for argument and feeling hot tears start to slid down his cheeks Alex looked down at his bowl of food and sniffled.

"Yes sir."

After supper Justin offered to do the dishes if Alex would go and get the landry out of the dryer, but mom said since Justin had already cleaned up after Alex, made supper and did the landry for the most part he could go and relax and watch TV with their dad while Alex got the landry out and folded it.

Justin smiled and kissed his mom's cheek and asked if she was sure, but she insisted and so he went and plopped down on the couch, ready to watch some hockey with his dad and giving Alex a shit eating grin as the huffy and tear stained cheek dork started to stomp his way up the steps till dad called for him to knock it off unless he wanted to go to bed early.

'Oh my god. this worked out even better then I could of hoped! Mom and Dad are just too easy!' Justin thought, having to bite his tongue every so often to keep from laughing.

the dweeb had done all the work and yet here he was sipping on pop and munching on chips with their dad while the dork was off folding his undies and was gonna be a crinkle butt the next day.

'It'll be a nice little preview of whats to come.' Justin thought and let out a little chuckle despite himself.

"what's so funny?" Dad asked.

"Oh, just thinking of how silly Alex and his friends looked this after noon. they were like sugar crazed toddlers." Justin lied.

"heh, Next time you should try and get a video of it, I bet it looked cute." Dad chuckled.

Upstairs Alex was mentally cursing up a storm, pissed off and fuming like crazy as he folded pair after pair of his brothers skid marked undies.

'Son of a bitch! son of a bisket eating bitch! I'm not just gonna get him in diapers, I'm gonna make him the biggest dumbest big baby loser of all time! I'm gonna have him in the halls of his school in nothing but huggies and a bib and bonnet!'

of course a small part of Alex knew that going that far likely wasn't gonna be possible, it was a warm thought that helped him keep from just having a melt down fit that would of gotten his bun's blistered and him put to bed before it was even 8 pm.

He should of know better then to think that Justin was gonna hold up his end of the deal, or he should of spoken up about getting the landry done but nope. He'd trusted his big brother and was paying the price for it now in spades.

'And now I have to wear a diaper all day tomorrow..Maybe I'll wait till Monday to go and talk with Max.' Alex thought.

it would mean putting his plans on hold for a bit but he really didn't wanna waddle the block and a half over to Max's with pampers on under his pants.

Finishing up the folding and putting the clothes away Alex checked to make sure that his rubber sheet was dry and tugged in his blanket he'd hung out the window to dry (as it would of taken up too much room in the machines to do Justin's landry too) and with it dry he started to make his bed.

'God, what did I ever do to deserve a asshole like him for a big brother.' Alex whined mentally and finished making his bed, looking it over and then jumping and letting out a girlish shriek as a hand came on his shoulder.

"heh, Relax sweetie, it's mommy." Came his mother voice, sounding a little amused.

"That's ok, I didn't need that heart." Alex huffed, blushing and turning around to face his smirking mother. "what's up mom?"

"Well I wanted to come up and check on how the folding was going and to help you get ready for bed." She said with a smile.

"...Mom it's not even 8 yet, and it's a Saturday night.." Alex said, not liking where this was going.

"Oh You can stay up and everything till 11 like normal, but I just wanna make sure you don't conk out with your 'special armor' on." she said, using finger quotes.

"Mom I think I'm quite capable of putting my own diaper on." Alex huffed, feeling a hot blush cover his face.

"And yet you soaked your bed earlier." She cheerfully pointed out.

"T-That was different, I was just all tired and didn't realize I'd be conking out!" Alex whined, sounding more like a fussy toddler the the big kid he was trying to be.

"I know sweetie, but it kinda goes with my point. what if you just conk out again tonight? do you really wanna have to go to school on Monday in a diaper?" She asked, and the ruffled his hair.

The mental image of it stopped Alex's whining in it's tracks, picturing himself in a bib and spider-man diaper and sucking on a paci in the halls.

"No way! I'd Dieeeee!" Alex whined and shook his head no A LOT.

"well then let mommy help you out. And also if your gonna keep being so tired maybe we'll lower your bedtime for awhile." She added, then smirked and winced at the glare Alex gave her. "Now now, no using your super pouty powers on family."

"Moooom!" Alex huffed but resigned himself to his fate, when she got like this there was no getting her to back down.

He reached under his bed and pulled out his pack of spider-man diapers and noted that he was running low, and started to tug down his shorts when mom spoke up.

"Oh Alex, before we get your in your bed time diaper, do you have to use the potty?"

"mom, I know I wet the bed but I THINK I would know if had to take a leak or a dump you kn-" Alex started and then there was a loud 10 second poot out of his bottom and his tummy was gurgling.

"You were saying?" Mom asked, holding her nose but smirking."

"I-I'll be back.." Alex said in a small voice, blushing SO bad as he went past her he was shocked his hair hadn't caught on fire.

As she watched him go and had to fight the urge laugh, the little guy's undies had a fresh skid mark appearing on the back.

'Maybe I should look into getting him some of those washable training pants.' She mused.

One trip to the potty later and with Alex realizing what's he'd almost done in his undies, and the fight was all out of the little guy at least for the moment.

Zero fight was put up as he let his mom take his shorts and briefs and then proceed to diaper him, numbly just going along with her requests of butt up and the like.

"Are you sure your feeling alright? Maybe I should of checked your temperature before getting the diaper on." Mom asked, putting a hand to Alex's forehead.

"N-No I'm fine..just I dunno, Tired." Alex said, wincing.

he had to be the only boy his age to still get his temperature checked via the back door and it's wasn't that fun of a experience.

"Hmmm I think somebody better lay off of the sweets for awhile if it leaves you JUST drained after." Mom said and then started to tug Alex's blanket up on him.

"M-Mom what are you doing?" Alex whined, looking at the clock, it was 7:51 PM!

"I think you've had a big day, and your just not feeling that good. it would explain all the huffing and whining too. if you be a good boy and go night night for me now I'll see what I can do to get your father to back off with the all day diaper punishment tomorrow. I have to take you shopping for more diapers anyways with you almost being out and you get embarrassed enough as is when your in your undies."

Alex whined and whimpered a little but after a few seconds just signed and nodded.

"Good boy." She said and leaned down, kissing his forehead and then went and got one of his stuffie style Avengers from their display shelf and handed him Thor.

Lacking the energy to fight back Alex just took the offered stuffie and snuggled into it as his mom turned off the lights in the room and paused at the doorway.

"Night night little guy. Mommy will leave the door open a crack for you so you don't get scared. Love you and see you in the morning." She coo'ed/

"..Love you too mommy." Alex said, blushing.

He hadn't been scared of the door in like ages but somehow mom had the impression he still was and the only reason he wouldn't accept a night light was Justin would complain.

She left the little guy to go to sleep and Alex listened to her footsteps.

'This is bull shit. I'm not some little baby! I bet I don't even fall asleep till 11 anyways.' He huffed, crinkling and squirming in his bed.

Five minutes later he was snoring softly around his thumb as he sucked it in his sleep.

"So did Alex give you much of a fight?" Justin asked as Mom came downstairs.

"Just a token one, he's already gone to bed. I don't think he's feeling well and I think that should excuse him for needing his punishment tomorrow." Anne said, though the last part was more directed at her husband.

"Look, rules are rules, and if we start g-" Jackson started but was cut off.

"Excuse me, but who's idea was the rule that a D or worse meant no TV or computer time, and yet Justin who got a D on his last English test is watching the game with you?" She asked sweetly.

Justin gulped now and turned to his dad.

"Uh..you know..I think mom's right, we can't punish Alex if he had his accident because he's sick!" Justin chimed in.

"Heh, Nice try buddy but your mother is right in a way. I can't really punish your brother and not punish you. "Jackson said

"Soooo Alex isn't wearing a diaper tomorrow?" Justin asked hopefully.

"try again buddy, but do it in anther room so I can finish watching the game." Jackson chuckled and ruffled his sons hair as the 12 year old pouted.

"Finnne, I'll just go to my room an-." he started to huff and went to get up.

"ahhh nope. First of all I know you well enough you'll just go on your laptop." Anne said. "and second of all your brother is sleeping. Don't worry though, we have LOTS of board games you can play with me."

"Geee, spending Saturday night playing board games with my mom. aren't I lucky." Justin groaned

One mind numbing night of games later and Justin went to bed, taking note of the fact that Alex had semi drenched his pillow in drool and was still sucking his thumb.

'Heh, He's kinda cute...Still gonna make him a big dumb diaper nerd chore boy..but he's cute.' Justin thought before going and climbing into his bed.

as he went to go to sleep he had the most wonderful evil idea that could at the same time be played off as just being a nice big brother and help get 'revenge' on Alex for making him miss the end of the game.

'Hehehehe damn I'm so smart!' Justin chuckled and dropped off to sleep.

[dweetwise]

presenting the weirdest and crackiest but also fluffiest shit i’ve ever written, i bring you nearly 5k words of riconti snail au snippets. if you haven’t seen @skllyr‘s adorable art about them, you should!

ship: felix x ace warnings: none word count: 4850

Felix X Ace: Love is stored in the snail

Ace Visconti thought he’d seen it all; from lavish spectacles of prestigious poker tournaments to the dangerous underworld he inevitably ended up involved with, and finally to a realm where the laws of nature meant nothing and death wasn’t permanent. But what eventually takes the cake for Weirdest Shit Ace Has Ever Seen isn’t one of the otherworldly monsters hunting him or seeing one of his numerous wounds heal up right before his eyes; it’s a snail. A goddamn snail. It just appears at the campfire one day, sitting on top of a medkit Dwight reaches for and causing the boy to yelp in surprise once he sees the small stowaway. Ace doesn’t quite understand why everyone is suddenly so eager to take a closer look at a random slug instead of hearing one of his exciting and totally-not-embellished stories, but he joins the small commotion forming around the snail nonetheless. And then he suddenly sees why. The snail not only has an eye-catching light blue shell with a gaudy flamingo pattern on it, it’s also dressed up in tiny sunglasses and a baseball cap between its antennas. Ace looks down at his own pastel blue flamingo sweater and fidgets self-consciously with his shades, wondering whether he should bring up the uncanny likeness— “Is it just me, or does the snail look Ace?” Laurie asks, glancing between Ace and the bug with furrowed eyebrows. “No, I… definitely see a resemblance,” Dwight says. “What should we name it?” Claudette asks. “I mean it's a snail that looks like Ace, so… Snace?” Nea suggests. “Snace it is!” Meg decides, snickering at Ace’s misfortune. “I'm glad you're having fun,” Ace snorts, glaring at the snail for stealing his spotlight. The girls hurry to make a home for the snail in the medkit, which Ace finds all kinds of ridiculous. They give it some bandages and twigs to hide and "play" in, whatever the fuck that means for a snail, and Claud gives it edible flowers to nibble on.

Ace tries his best to ignore the snail, but when he gets back from a trial and sees some of the group passing it between their hands and taking turns to hold it, he can’t help watching them. It’s Dwight’s turn now, their leader cradling the snail in his hands and looking way too happy with the situation. “Do you want to try?” Dwight asks, noticing Ace's staring. “Uhh… sure," Ace says, not having the heart to ruin everyone’s good mood. He goes to grab the snail from Dwight's hand, lifting it by the obnoxiously colored shell— “Not like that, you absolute moron!” Jake snaps, slapping Ace's hand away. “You're going to hurt him. You need to slide him off, not lift upwards,” Jake explains, showing how to do it, plopping the snail down on Ace's hand. It's… slimy and kind of gross. The snail seems confused, feeling around with its antennas. And then, it slowly starts to slither forward. “It's kinda cute,” Ace realizes, watching the little snail face with its little shades. It's the coolest snail he's ever seen for sure, but he wouldn't expect anything less from his doppelgänger. “You go, little guy,” Ace encourages the snail, poking it gently on its shell in encouragement. The snail wobbles a bit, and then its tiny face turns to look at Ace, and— “Ew, it pooped on me!” Ace realizes and Dwight chokes on a laugh while Jake smirks smugly and removes Snace from his hand. Ace could just be imagining it, but the snail looks way too pleased with himself.

Other survivors join and, sooner or later, everyone except Ace seems to fall in love with Snace. “He's just like Ace,” their newest teammate, Kate, comments. “What's that supposed to mean, Sunshine?” Ace challenges playfully. “He's a little slimey but everyone still loves him!” Kate smiles brightly and Ace’s witty comeback dies on his tongue at the unexpected heartfelt remark.

And eventually, when their small group has expanded to over twenty people, there's Felix. And no matter how hard he tries, Ace can’t help sneaking glances at the serious German. He’s tall. Blond. Handsome. Rich. Smart. Did he say handsome? Oh, and Felix hates Snace. “This is our pet snail, Snace!” Steve introduces with an excited grin while giving Felix the tour of their modest campgrounds. “A… snail?” Felix frowns. “Yeah! Do you wanna hold him?” Steve asks, already reaching his hand into the medkit. “No!” Felix recoils away, before seeming to collect himself. “I'm, um… not a pet person.” Ace tries (and fails) not to take it personally that Felix finds Snace to be repulsive and will just scoff and roll his eyes whenever the others discuss him. What the hell is his problem, anyway?

And then, something never before seen happens; they get another snail. “Guys!” Cheryl runs into camp, looking out of breath and cradling something in her hands. “Look what I found!” Ace goes to look right along with the others, and in the girl’s hands is a pale snail with a dark blue shell and a pattern resembling a suit collar on its neck. It doesn't have fashionable accessories like Snace, but there’s a tiny briefcase next to it. “Oh my god! He's so cute!” Meg squeals, making the snail retract into its shell in fear. “Aww, he's shy!” Kate coos. “Are you guys thinking what I'm thinking?” Nea suddenly says with a grin, glancing between Felix and the snail. Several heads turn in the German's direction, taking in his dark blue suit and pale complexion. “…What?” Felix asks, just as standoffish as ever. “Snelix!” Nea exclaims proudly. When several others join in to cheer and chant Snelix’s name, Felix just sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose in a gesture that screams "end me".

Everyone is eager to introduce Snelix to Snace, gathering around the medkit, even forcing Felix to watch. “Look, Snace! A new friend!” Cheryl says, gently plopping Snelix down into the medkit. Snace immediately starts slithering toward him, while Snelix just seems confused, rooted in place. “Aww! He's excited!” Dwight smiles. Snace reaches out his snail whiskers in a greeting, and Snelix recoils, slinking a little into his shell. “Oh, he's nervous!” Kate coos. “Don't worry doll, Snace is nice.” As if sensing the woman's words, Snelix cautiously comes out of his shell, hesitantly reaching out an antenna. “There you go, bud!” Ace encourages his snailself. “Take it slow, don't scare him away.” He glances at Felix, standing at the edge of the group with his arms crossed. If only people had it as easy as snails— “Oh, god!” Nancy exclaims in disgust, making Ace look back at the snails. And seeing Snace groping Snelix with his antennas while backing him into a corner. “Hey!” Ace chastices. “What did I just say!?” “Someone save him!” Laurie urges, but it seems Snelix can take care of himself, turning around and slinking up the medkit’s wall. “Aww, he's running away,” Steve pouts. “Good,” Felix huffs quietly from behind the group, and Ace pretends not to hear him. He also pretends that the comment doesn't sting, after trying and failing to get through the German's cold exterior for weeks.

Quentin tries to give Snelix one of his medkits to give him a place to live, but Snelix refuses to go in until it's cleaned up. “What a little snob,” Quentin snorts. “Yeah, how weird is that,” Yui smirks and glances at Felix in a way that’s definitely not subtle. Felix just scoffs and crosses his arms but, thankfully, doesn’t take the bait.

“Guys, I think Snace is depressed,” Meg says one day, looking into the medkit with a frown. “He's not even eating!” Claudette adds worriedly. “Maybe he's dying of old age,” Feng snarks. “I heard that,” Ace shoots back without any real heat. The snail isn't the only one who is feeling under the weather, Felix ignoring him for the last few days taking a toll on his confidence. “What if he misses Snelix?” Cheryl frowns. “Maybe we should try to introduce them again!” Steve exclaims. “No way,” Yui says. “Just because they're both snails doesn't mean they have to be friends.” “Yeah, let's at least give Snelix some time to settle in first,” Jeff suggests.

“Oh shit! Help!” Nea shouts not long after their previous conversation. “What's wrong?” Jane asks worriedly, immediately going into mom-mode. “Snelix is gone!” Nea says, showing them the empty med-kit. Is only takes those three words for the entire camp to erupt into panic. “NOBODY STEP ANYWHERE!” Jane commands. Thus commences the search for Snelix, with everyone participating and even Felix looking surprisingly worried. They eventually find Snelix is Snace's medkit, where they're just sitting next to each other munching on some leaves. “Aww! He walked all the way to his friend!” Kate beams. “Look how cute they are together!” Cheryl smiles. Ace feels his face heating up upon seeing the snails' close proximity. It almost looks like they're sitting next to each other cuddling while sharing a meal. He can't believe Snelix would actually come around, not to mention go through all that trouble to be with Snace. Someone probably put him there, but nobody fesses up. “Are they k-kissing?” Dwight squeaks in surprise when the snails seem to interrupt their meal just long enough to move their tiny whiskers together. “They're snails,” Zarina deadpans. “Most likely just conversing,” Adam adds. “I'm so glad they're getting along now!” Claudette sighs in relief. “Bro… what if we kissed? And we're both snails?” Feng says, propping her elbows up on a tree stump to watch the snails together. “Best snails forever,” Meg grins, joining the gamer. Ace discreetly clears his throat and mentally kicks himself for being jealous of goddamn snails. Even if him and Felix are getting along better day for day, Ace doesn't have any illusions that he’ll ever get to kiss the handsome architect. Still, a man can dream.

The snails seem happy to share a living space together and the next day, Ace even catches Felix observing them curiously. “It's funny how well our snails get along now,” Ace says conversationally, coming up beside Felix. “I'm not that surprised,” Felix says, looking at the snails climbing over each other and seeming to play together. “Looks like he just needed a little push,” Felix says bashfully. And something in Ace's head clicks at the comment. “Were you the one who put him there?” Ace asks, and Felix immediately clears his throat self-consciously. “I just wanted to try it,” Felix explains. “Maybe it would go better, since everything wasn't so new and people weren't staring. And it worked out.” Are… are they still talking about the snails? Or their own, slowly blossoming friendship? “He's been alone for so long,” Felix continues, looking back to the snails now sharing a piece of cucumber. “He deserves to be happy.” Felix smiles an adorable little smile and Ace realizes in just how deep shit he is with his stupid crush on the man. “I've never seen Snace so happy,” Ace agrees. “Just look at his smug little face.” “I thought he always looked happy,” Felix remarks. Ace fights himself for a moment, debating on whether he should be honest or not, or if he's read the situation completely wrong. “Maybe he's never had a real friend before,” Ace says, and out of the corner of his eye he can see Felix glancing at him, but doesn't dare look away from the snails.

And then one day… “Woah—what's wrong with the snails?” Steve calls from the medkit, Claudette immediately rushing closer to check. And then the botanist gasps in shock and everyone else hurries there too. “What happened—oh. Oh,” Quentin says, face flushing red, and Ace peers over the teen's shoulder to… See the snails in the middle of snail sex. “They're fucking,” Nea states matter-of-factly. “Yes Nea we can see that,” Laurie hisses, face pink from embarrassment. “Wot the—they're both blokes, innit?!” David seems confused. “Snails are hermaphrodites,” Adam points out. “Gay snails!” Feng exclaims cheerfully. “It's not gay if they're—” Adam tries again. “If what, they don't make eye contact?” Feng snickers right back. “No, I mean if they have both male and female reproductive organs,” Adam explains, looking embarrassed now. Ace glances at Felix and sees him staring at the snails with his mouth pressed into a thin line. But… he's also blushing. “Gay snails! Gay snails!” Feng, disregarding Adam's explanation, starts chanting. Jane and Laurie eventually have to pull some of the more eager onlookers away by their ears to give the snails some privacy.

One day, Felix returns from a trial and walks to Bill’s spot a little outside camp to return a map he borrowed earlier. He never makes it that far, because he spots Ace out in the woods, looking much more focused than Felix has ever seen as he fiddles with something in his hands. Ace doesn’t even notice him approaching, and Felix takes the opportunity to freely stare at the man who’s been slowly but surely occupying more and more of his thoughts. Ace’s sunglasses are pushed up into his hair and his tongue is poking out in concentration, and it’s completely beyond Felix’s understanding how someone can manage to look both so handsome and utterly ridiculous. “What are you doing?” Felix asks, and Ace’s head instantly snaps up to look at him in surprise. “I’m, uh…” Ace falters for once in his life, lowering his hands to hide whatever he was up to, but Felix catches the glint of something metallic. “Is that a needle? Do you need stitches?” Felix asks, not failing to hide the concern in his voice. “No, I—” Ace starts, but then falters and sighs in defeat. “Promise not to tell anyone.” He doesn’t wait for Felix’s reply before reaching his hand forward, opening his palm to show Felix… A tiny pink baseball cap with a thread and needle attached. “For… Snace?” Felix asks, struggling to take in the information that, somehow, this flamboyant loudmouth is making clothes for his pet snail. “He deserves a proper wardrobe, okay?” Ace huffs jokingly but pulls the project closer to himself defensively. It’s surprisingly… endearing. “I didn’t know you sewed,” Felix says instead of voicing his embarrassing thoughts. “Yeah, well, it comes in handy,” Ace points out. “Can’t tell you how many times I had to patch up a shirt after I barely escaped the cop—uh, competition,” Ace catches himself, grinning sheepishly. Felix raises a curious eyebrow but doesn’t push the topic. Instead, an idea forms in his head that he can’t help expressing. “Could you make a scarf for Snelix?” Felix says, and almost instantly regrets asking after realizing how stupid that sounds. But it makes Ace perk up in interest, and soon a wide grin is spreading over the gambler’s face. “Sure, I can do that!” Ace beams. “Why a scarf, though?” Felix is already opening his mouth to say because he loves scarves, but thankfully is able to stop himself. “They’re stylish,” he says instead. “Well well well, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were starting to like the little slimy bastards,” Ace grins. “They might be growing on me,” Felix admits with just the barest hint of a smirk. Hopefully Ace realizes he doesn’t mean just the snails.

One evening, Ace is sitting by himself, looking at Snace and Snelix living their best life. They eat a little bit of some of the flowers Claudette gave them earlier, before Snelix turns around to leave and Snace immediately follows him. They slither away to a secluded corner, laying next to each other and doing their little snail kisses, until Snelix eventually slumps and flattens to the ground, seeming to fall asleep. Snace sits next to him for a while, before he carefully moves away, slinking back to nom on the flowers. “Putting your boyfriend to sleep, huh?” Ace murmurs quietly, not wanting to wake Snelix. “I'm jealous of your life, buddy.” Snace lifts his head from the flower, his little shades looking Ace's way. “At least one of us got what he wanted. You did good for yourself, high five,” Ace whispers, holding up his finger in front of Snace for shits and giggles. And Snace, the snail that absolutely hates him, lifts one of his antennas and briefly touches his finger in a high five before going back to his meal. “Woah,” Ace breathes, a grin spreading over his face and glancing around camp, wanting to see if anyone was around to witness the event— And his eyes meet Felix's, standing behind him, staring at Ace talking to his snail like an absolute idiot. And probably having heard everything. “It, uh,” Ace starts when Felix isn't saying anything, the German's eyes wide from surprise. “He high-fived me.” “I, er…” Felix stutters in return, before clearing his throat. “I got some moss for them from Red Forest.” “Oh, neat,” Ace comments. “Snelix just fell asleep, but maybe you won’t wake him if you’re careful.” “No, I don't want to disturb them,” Felix says, crouching down next to Ace and placing the moss next to the medkit. They watch the snails in silence, Snace finishing his midnight snack, Ace debating on whether he should bring up the previous conversation or not. “Thank you,” Felix says instead, before Ace can strike up a conversation. “…For what?” “For being patient with me,” Felix murmurs. “I know I can come across as… cold.” Well that's an understatement if Ace has ever heard one. “Hmm, I guess you could say you needed some time to…” Ace says, pausing for comedic effect while he waits for Felix to turn to look at him for the punchline. “Come out of your shell.” Felix huffs a surprised laugh and turns his head away, but not before Ace sees a beautiful smile spreading over his normally serious face. They keep observing the snails, until Snace has finally had enough of the flowers, moving to lay next to Snelix. “Oh, he's awake,” Ace comments, seeing Snelix groggily lift his head toward Snace. He pushes up Snace's shades, dislodging the cap a bit before doing another little snail kiss. “Damn, that's adorable,” Ace grins. And then there's a hand on his temple, and Ace freezes as his shades are gently pushed up into his hair. He turns to look at Felix, heat rising up his neck, feeling vulnerable without the glasses, not able to hide his wide eyes searching Felix's own in a silent question. Felix's face is redder than usual but he looks more unguarded that Ace has ever seen, gaze dropping to Ace's lips while the hand on his forehead moves to cup his jaw. Ace holds his breath, not daring to say anything lest he ruin the mood and permanently mess up his chance with Felix. His thoughts are little more than white noise and excited screeching as he tilts his head up in silent invitation, and that's all it takes for Felix to lean down and claim his lips.

“Snace is getting fat,” Feng comments one day. “What!?” Ace exclaims, offended. “No he’s not!” “Hon, he does look a little… pudgier,” Kate comments. “He’s just… bloated, okay?” Ace insists, huffing defensively. “He’s a fucking fatass,” Feng corrects. “Yeah man, he’s really letting himself go,” Steve agrees with an infuriating smirk. “Okay, rude!” Ace scoffs. “Felix—” he starts, turning to his newly acquired boyfriend for solidarity, but sees the little shit is shaking from quiet laughter instead of being upset on his behalf. “Babe! Don’t tell me you agree with them!” Ace gasps in mock offense, hand over his heart. “Every time I’ve looked at him, he’s eating,” Felix manages to point out between snickers. “Absolutely terrible, the lot of you,” Ace huffs, peering into the medkit where the completely innocent Snace is… Munching on some berries Claudette placed there earlier. “You were saying?” Feng snarks, making Ace shoot a glare her way while Felix is still holding back chuckles.

When Ace gets back from a rather uneventful trial some time later, he notices Jake staring intently into the snails’ medkit. As he walks closer, it becomes apparent that the snails are having sex. “Jake, what the hell are you doing?” Ace asks the survivalist. “They've been at it for hours,” Jake says, face just as neutral as ever and not taking his eyes off the writhing clump of snail. “I'm a little concerned by how much you like watching my snail get laid.” “Nature is lit,” Jake merely offers. So Ace shuts the medkit, feeling weirdly exposed by having his snail’s private life invaded like that. “Give them some privacy, sheesh,” he chastises Jake. “Prude,” the boy snorts.

It’s only a few days before there is another episode of, as Felix likes to call it, snail drama. “Felix!” Ace shouts, making Felix sigh in fond irritation and pause his sorting of their shared stash of items that Ace has left an absolute mess (again). “Yes, love?” he asks, doing his best impression of an exasperated husband despite them only dating for what can't be more than a few weeks. And then he sees Ace's face full of both alarm and excitement, and immediately drops what he was doing. “What's wrong?” he asks, feeling the panic quickly bubbling up. “SNACE IS GIVING BIRTH!” Ace exclaims ten decibels louder than necessary, grabbing a confused Felix by his sleeve and dragging him toward the snails' home. Sure enough, there's a small commotion around the medkit, and when Felix peers into it he can see Snace in the middle of laying eggs, Snelix by his side in solidarity. “Come on dude! Push!” Feng is trying to encourage the snail. “Shh, you're stressing it!” Claudette chastises. “I told you guys he wasn’t fat!” Ace huffs proudly. After ten or so eggs, the process seems to be over, and Snace happily slithers away to go snack on some leaves. “Oh,” Claudette says, bewildered. “What?” Ace says. “I, um,” the botanist falters. “They usually lay about a hundred eggs…” “A hundred?” Ace screeches. “Don't you think ten kids is more than enough?” “Only a small portion of them actually hatch!” Claudette hurries to add. “Maybe he's going through menopause,” Jake, not so helpfully, supplies. “I'm going to smack you,” Ace threatens. Felix just chuckles and lays a hand on Ace’s shoulder to settle him.

Excited about the possibility of baby snails, the survivors take turns watching the eggs for the next few weeks. Eventually, it’s Cheryl who screams: “Guys! An egg is hatching!” Felix rushes to the medkit before anyone else, and in an instant Ace is peering over his shoulder too, both looking at the transparent, tiny antenna pushing out of one of the eggs. Snelix and Snace are right by the eggs, eagerly waiting to meet their offspring. And then the small snail plops completely out and starts wiggling around, and Ace honest to god squeals. “Look, Felix!” he says, tugging on Felix's sleeve. “We're grandparents!” “I'm… not sure that's how it works,” Felix points out, even as he smiles at Snelix petting his child with his antenna. “I'm gonna make so much baby snail clothes for her,” Ace continues with a wide grin, nearly shaking in his shoes in excitement. “'Her'?” Felix asks, and Ace falters. “I'm, uh…” Ace explains, looking away. “You said your kid's a girl, I mean based on the ultrasound before you were taken, so I figured…” Something in Felix's expression softens, touched that Ace would remember something like that. He steals a quick kiss while everyone is preoccupied with staring at the family of snails.

“What should we name their kid?” Jeff ponders a couple weeks later, watching the baby snail climb all over Snace while Snelix anxiously hovers nearby. “Ask the grandpas,” Feng snarks. “Yeah, have you decided on a name yet?” Cheryl asks, looking up at Felix with wide, shimmering eyes. “Err,” Felix says, glancing at Ace for help. Ace grins and discreetly nods toward the eager Cheryl. “Oh,” Felix seems to realize. “Yes, we were considering Ch—ehm, Sneryl.” Cheryl gasps in awe. “She does look like a Sneryl,” Jeff agrees. “What? It doesn't look like any—” Feng starts, but at Jeff's pointed look, thankfully shuts up. “She's the spitting image of a Sneryl!” Ace says, smiling in encouragement. “Really!?” Cheryl asks excitedly, looking between Felix and Ace. “Ah… of course,” Felix says, and then the breath leaves his lungs in a pained “Oof!” as Cheryl rushes in for a hug. “Thank you! I love having my own snail!” Cheryl beams while Felix awkwardly pats her on the head and looks at Ace with an expression that screams 'HELP'.

Seeing Sneryl grow over the following couple of months, Felix takes it upon himself to start building the snails a house out of a commodious toolbox. He might put in way more effort than necessary, making sure to separate different rooms with interior walls and adding corridors to entertain the snails. “Hey handsome, what're you doing?” Ace asks, placing a kiss against his temple as he comes up behind him to see what he’s working on. “I'm building our snails a house," Felix explains. "They have a family now, a cramped old medkit won't do.” Ace stares at him for a moment, and then a wide grin spreads over his face and he suddenly looks like he’s about to combust. “You’re so friggin adorable!” Ace exclaims and pulls him into a hug. And then he refuses to let go, clinging to Felix’s back like a koala while he keeps working on the house, and Felix would be lying if he said he didn’t like it. “…Can you make a poker room for Snace?” Ace asks after having observed his work for a while. “Poker? But they're—” Felix frowns, turning around just enough to see Ace's exaggerated, ridiculous pout. “…Fine. But you're making the furniture.” “You got it, babe!” Ace grins, before seeming to notice something. “Hey, what's that?" he asks, pointing at a drawn square on the side of the toolbox. “Oh. It's going to be a door,” Felix explains. “But what if Sneryl goes out and gets stomped on?” Ace asks worriedly. “I just…” Felix falters. “Thought that maybe they needed some freedom. Especially Snace.” “Huh?” Ace tilts his head in confusion. “He was alone for so long, I… assumed he'd probably get bored of the family life,” Felix says, looking at the ground in thought. He’s embarrassed for bringing up the subject of Ace’s loyalty like this, but once again, the snails are proving a wonderful excuse to talk about topics they otherwise wouldn’t. “That sounds like a load of bullcrap,” Ace grins, making Felix look up at him, still frowning. “I've never seen Snace so happy. He knew what he signed up for and there's no way in hell he's leaving now.” The reassurance feels like a weight lifting off of Felix’s chest, and he can’t stop the smile spreading over his lips. Hesitantly, he grabs Ace’s hand still wrapped around him, and Ace brings them both up to brush his lips over Felix's callused knuckles. “I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart,” Ace murmurs, the sweet sentiment making warm affection spread through Felix’s entire body. “I, uhm,” Felix blushes, clearing his throat. “Is this a good time to point out I just had the snails crawl over the back of my hand…?” Ace sputters and immediately wipes at his mouth while Felix lets out a few quiet chuckles.

Following the conversation, Felix can’t help but read into Ace’s answer. Especially with the other survivors engaging in another round of the popular “What’s the first thing you’ll do when we escape?” game, Felix finds it difficult to focus on anything other than the possibility of a shared future. So, when he catches Ace alone, he hesitantly brings up the option of the man coming with him to Germany. “I know the possibility of escaping is slim,” Felix babbles nervously after Ace isn’t saying anything, just staring at him curiously. “But I can’t stop thinking about it, and I wanted to see where you are—” “Babe,” Ace interrupts, grabbing his arm to ground Felix from his scrambled thoughts, giving him an encouraging smile. “I’d love to.” Felix breathes out a relieved sigh, returning a shaky but happy smile over not getting rejected. And then Ace smirks mischievously and Felix’s instincts scream “Uh-oh”. “On one condition,” Ace adds, holding a finger in front of Felix’s face playfully. “Um… which?” Felix asks, nerves resurfacing. There’s not much that would make him say no, and he hopes he doesn’t have to, willing to make sacrifices for a potential future together. “The snails come with us,” Ace quips sheepishly instead. Felix chuckles and shakes his head in amusement, before pulling Ace in for a soft kiss. “I wouldn't have it any other way,” Felix murmurs against Ace’s lips, silently thanking the two dorky snails that allowed this to happen in the first place.

[patriotsnet]

Did Republicans Riot After Obama Was Elected

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/did-republicans-riot-after-obama-was-elected/

Did Republicans Riot After Obama Was Elected

Undocumented Kids Are Saved By Obamas Executive Order Daca Which Would Put A Halt To Deportation For Those Whod Entered The Country Before Age 16 And Yet In A Bid To Get The Gop To Come Over To His Side On Immigration Reform The President Has Also Deported A Record 15 Million People In His First Term

A Family Caught in Immigration Limbo

When Belsy Garcia saw her mother’s number appear on her iPhone on the afternoon of June 15, she felt what she calls the “uncomfortable fluttering” sensation in her chest. She knew that daytime calls signaled an emergency. The worst one had come the previous year, when her sister told her ICE agents had placed their father in federal custody.

Garcia was attending Mercer University in Macon, Georgia, when her father was marched out of her childhood home. As an undocumented immigrant — like both of her parents, who are from Guatemala — she couldn’t qualify for loans. She financed her ­education through scholarships and a stipend she earned as a residential assistant. Now she wondered if her mother was calling to say her father had been deported, which might force her to leave school to become the family’s breadwinner.

But this call was different. “Go turn on the television,” Garcia’s mother said. “You’re going to be able to work, get a driver’s license.”

Onscreen, President Obama was announcing the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program. Undocumented immigrants who had arrived in the United States as children could apply for Social Security numbers and work permits. Garcia qualified: Her parents had brought her to this country when she was 7 years old. DACA transformed her into a premed student who could actually become a doctor. “It was like this weight was lifted,” she says. “All of that hard work was going to pay off.”

In The Next Hundred Days Our Bipartisan Outreach Will Be So Successful That Even John Boehner Will Consider Becoming A Democrat After All We Have A Lot In Common He Is A Person Of Color Although Not A Color That Appears In The Natural World Whats Up John Barack Obama White House Correspondents Dinner

And Then There Were Three

The first woman to argue a case before the Supreme Court did so in 1880. It would take another 101 years for a woman to sit on that bench rather than stand before it. Even then, progress was fitful. Over the 12 years that Sandra Day O’Connor and Ruth Bader Ginsburg served together, their identities evidently merged; lawyers regularly addressed Ginsburg as “Justice O’Connor.” When O’Connor retired in 2006, she left the faux Justice O’Connor feeling lonely. Ruth Bader Ginsburg warned of something far more alarming: What the public saw on entering the court were “eight men of a certain size, and then this little woman sitting to the side.” They might well represent the most eminent legal minds in America. But there was something antiquated, practically mutton-choppy, about that portrait.

How many female justices would be sufficient? Nine, says Justice Ginsburg, noting that no one ever raised an eyebrow at the idea of nine men.

Seal Team Six Kills Osama Bin Ladenraiding His Secret Compound In Abbottabad Pakistan While Obama And His Top Advisers Watch A Live Feed Of The Mission From The White House Situation Room The Picture Of The Assembled Becomes The Last Supper Of The Obama Era

Poop Feminism

For me, it’s one moment. All the bridesmaids have come to the fancy bridal shop to see Maya Rudolph try on wedding dresses. This should be a familiar scene: The bride emerges from the changing room and … This is the dress! The friends clap. The mother cries. Everyone is a princess. Go ahead and twirl!

But when the bride emerges in Bridesmaids, almost all of her friends have started to feel sick. Sweat coats their skin. Red splotches creep over their faces. They try to “ooh” and “aah,” but it’s already too late. It starts with a gag from Melissa McCarthy, followed by another gag. Then a gag that comes simultaneously with a tiny wet fart. It’s the smallness of the fart that’s important here. It’s the kind of fart that slips out — a fart that could be excused away, a brief, incongruous accident. Women don’t fart in wedding movies, and women certainly don’t fart at the exact moment that the bride comes out in her dress. This can’t be happening. ­Melissa McCarthy blames the fart on the tightness of her dress. We breathe a sigh of relief.

Then sweet Ellie Kemper gags, and the sound effect is surprisingly nasty. Ellie’s face is gray. Melissa’s face is red. They look bad. They are embarrassed. How far is this going to go?

The camera cuts. We are above now. We look down from a safe perch as the release we have been anticipating and dreading begins. It is horribly, earth-­shatteringly gross. A woman has just pooped in a sink. The revolution has begun.

The Government Acquires A 61 Percent Stake In Gm And Loans The Company $50 Billion The Auto Bailout Will Eventually Be Heralded As A Great Success Adding More Than 250000 Manufacturing Jobs To The Economy

The Auto Industry Gets Rerouted

“The president was very clear with us that he only wanted to do stuff that would fundamentally change the way they did business. And that’s what we did. There were enormous changes. For example, General Motors had something like 300 different job classifications that the union had. If you were assigned to put the windshield wipers on, you couldn’t put tires on. And we wiped all that stuff out. We basically gave back management the freedom to manage, to hire, to fire. People stopped getting paid even when they were on layoff. We reduced the number of car plants so that there wasn’t so much overcapacity. So now, when you have 16 million cars sold , they’re making a fortune.”

Black Lives Matter Activists Are Arrested In Baton Rouge Louisianaprotesting The Murder Of Alton Sterling; More Than 100 People Are Detained In St Paul Minnesota Protesting The Murder Of Philando Castile

What Is the Point of a Quantified Self?

Melissa Dahl: The Fitbit was introduced at a tech conference eight years ago. It’s kind of incredible to realize that, before then, this idea of the “quantified self” didn’t really exist in the mainstream.

Jesse Singal: I feel like it’s the intersection of all these different trends: Everyone plays video games these days. You got smartphones everywhere. And people are realizing that solutions to the big problems that lead to sleeplessness and anxiety and bad eating — unemployment and income inequality and yada yada yada — aren’t gonna get solved anytime soon.

MD: That’s interesting, because all of this self-tracking is also, according to some physicians, giving people more anxiety! A Fitbit-induced stress vortex.

Cari Romm: It feels like productive stress, though. I’m talking as a recovered Fitbit obsessive, but it does make you look at Fitbit-less people like, “You mean you don’t care how many steps you took today?”

MD: Oh, God. I don’t care. Should I care? Sleep is the one thing I obsessed over for a while. Which does not really help one get to sleep.

JS: Do you think an actually good and not obsession-­inducing sleep app could help, though?

MD: There’s some aspect to the tracking idea that really does work. I mean, it’s just a higher-tech version of a food journal or sleep journal, right? Ben Franklin 300 years ago was tracking his 13 “personal virtues” in his diary.

JS: Would Ben Franklin have been an insufferable tech-bro?

Officer Darren Wilson Fatally Shoots Michael Brownin The St Louis Suburb Of Ferguson Sparking A National Protest Movement And Setting Off Unrest That Will Remain Unresolved Two Years Later

On the Triumph of Black Culture in the Age of Police Shootings

In the two years since Mike Brown was fatally shot by the police in Ferguson, and the video footage of his dead body in the street went viral, we have seen the emergence of a perverse dichotomy on our screens and in our public discourse: irrefutable evidence of grotesquely persistent racism, and irrefutable evidence of increasing black cultural and political power. This paradox is not entirely new, of course — America was built on a narrative of white supremacy, and black Americans have simultaneously continued to make vast and essential contributions to the country’s prominence—but it has become especially pronounced. And it’s not just because of the internet and social media, or the leftward shift of the culture, or black America’s being sick and tired of being sick and tired. In fact, it is all of these things, not least two terms with a black president. In the same way that black skin signals danger to the police , his black skin, to black people, signaled black cultural preservation. African-Americans didn’t see a black man as the most powerful leader in the free world; we saw the most powerful leader in the free world as black. This is what comedian Larry Wilmore was expressing at the 2016 White House Correspondents’ Dinner when he said, “Yo, Barry, you did it, my nigga.” It was a moment of unadulterated black pride.

Militants Attack American Compounds In Benghazi Libya Killing Us Ambassador Chris Stevens And Three Other Americans There Will Eventually Be Eight Congressional Probes Into The Incident

“I Know I Let Everybody Down”

“Before the debate, David Plouffe and I went in to talk to him and give him a pep talk and he said, ‘Let’s just get this over with and get out of here,’ which is not what you want to hear from your candidate right before the debate. We knew within ten minutes that it was going to be a ­debacle. We had armed him with a joke — it was his 20th anniversary, and he addressed Michelle — and it turns out Romney was expecting just such a line and had a really great comeback. And Romney was excellent — just free and easy and clearly well prepared and showed personality that people hadn’t seen before. Obama looked like he was at a press conference.

We had a meeting at the White House and he said, ‘I know I let everybody down and that’s on me, and I’m not going to let that happen again,’ and that was his attitude. We always had debate camps before, where we’d re-create in hotel ballrooms what the set would look like, and all of the conditions of the real debate. When we went down to Williamsburg, Virginia, for the next debate camp, he seemed really eager to engage in the prep. We had a decent first night. That was on Saturday. On Sunday night, Kerry, playing Romney, got a little more aggressive and Obama a little less so; it looked very much like what we had seen in Denver. It was like he’d taken a step back.

Scott Brown Is Elected Massachusetts Senatorturning Ted Kennedys Seat Republican For The First Time Since 1952 And Suddenly Throwing The Prospect Of Passing Obamacare Into Jeopardy

Plan B

“I’m talking to Rahm and Jim Messina and saying, ‘Okay, explain to me how this happened.’ It was at that point that I learned that our candidate, Martha Coakley, had asked rhetorically, ‘What should I do, stand in front of Fenway and shake hands with voters?’ And we figured that wasn’t a good bellwether of how things might go.

This might have been a day or two before the election, but the point is: There is no doubt that we did not stay on top of that the way we needed to. This underscored a failing in my first year, which was the sort of perverse faith in good policy leading to good politics. I’ll cut myself some slack — we had a lot to do, and every day we were thinking, Are the banks going to collapse? Is the auto industry going to collapse? Will layoffs accelerate? We just didn’t pay a lot of attention to politics that first year, and the loss in Massachusetts reminded me of what any good president or elected official needs to understand: You’ve got to pay attention to public opinion, and you have to be able to communicate your ideas. But it happened, and the question then was, ‘What’s next?’

Sheryl Sandbergs Lean In Hits Bookstores Making The Feminist Case That Women Should Be More Aggressive And Ambitious In Their Careers And Making Feminists Themselves Very Angry

The “Mommy Wars” Finally Flame Out

After decades of chilly backlash, we find ourselves, these past eight years, in an age of feminist resurgence, with feminist websites and publications and filmmakers and T-shirts and pop singers and male celebrities and best-selling authors and women’s soccer teams. Of course, as in every feminist golden age, there has also been dissent: furious clashes over the direction and quality of the discourse, especially as the movement has become increasingly trendy, shiny, and celebrity-backed.

Perhaps the most public feminist conflagration of the Obama years came at the nexus of policy and celebrity, of politics and pop power. It was the furor over Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg, who gave a viral 2010 TED Talk about women in the workplace who “leave before they leave” — who alter their professional strategy to accommodate a future they assume will be compromised by parenthood — which led to the publication of her 2013 feminist business manifesto, Lean In.

It’s a lesson of the Obama era: One approach to redressing inequality does not have to blot out the others. Sometimes, attacking from all angles is the most effective strategy.

Texas State Senator Wendy Davis Laces Up Her Pink Running Shoes And Spends Ten Long Hours Attempting To Filibuster A Billthat Wouldve Imposed Statewide Abortion Restrictions

“The Concept of Dignity Really Matters”

“I was given an enormous degree of latitude. I did communicate with the White House counsel on occasion about high-profile cases, but it was much more in the nature of just giving them a heads-up, to calm any nervous feelings they might have. There’s only one exception to that, and it was on marriage equality, in the Hollingsworth v. Perry case in 2013. We were contemplating coming in and arguing that it was unconstitutional for California to refuse to recognize the legal validity of same-sex marriages. But we didn’t have to do it . And because it was a discretionary judgment, and it was such a consequential step, that was the one matter where I really sought out the president’s personal guidance. I wanted to make sure the president had a chance to thoroughly consider what we should do before we did it. It was really one of the high points of my tenure. It was a wide-ranging conversation about doctrinal analysis, about where society was now, about social change and whether it should go through the courts or through the majoritarian process, about the pace of social change, about the significance of the right at stake. He was incredibly impressive.

A Golf Summit Between John Boehner And Barack Obama Stirs Hopethat Perhaps The Two Parties Will Come To A Budget Agreement And Forestall A True Crisis Secret And Semi

A Grand Bargain That Wasn’t, Remembered Three Ways

“The president of the United States and the Speaker of the House, the two most powerful elected officials in Washington, decided in a conversation that they both had to try to make something happen. Maybe it would be the way it worked in a West Wing episode in a world that doesn’t work like a West Wing episode. That’s how it started — two individuals saying we’re going to try. I think they both shared a belief in the art of the possible, and they both did not think compromise was a dirty word.

When our cover was blown — a Wall Street Journal editorial came out saying that Boehner and Obama were working on this and attacking the whole premise — that was devastating. It resulted in Cantor being a part of the talks. Cantor and Boehner came in, and I think it was a weekend private session with the president in the Oval Office, and they were talking about the numbers. At one point Cantor said, ‘Listen, it’s not just the numbers. There’s concern that this will help you politically. Paul Ryan said if we do this deal, it will guarantee your reelection. If we agree with Barack Obama on spending and taxes, that takes away one of our big weapons.’ There were so many obstacles, some of them substantive — how much revenue, and what about the entitlements? — but there was also this overlay of ‘This is going to help Obama.’

Illustrations by Lauren Tamaki

The Obama Administration Unveils Its Plan For Regulating Wall Streetwhich Is Then Introduced In Congress By Senator Chris Dodd And Representative Barney Frank

MJ=JC?

Lane Brown: Michael Jackson’s death was a big deal for lots of obvious reasons, including the surprising way it happened and the fact that he was arguably the most famous person on the planet.

Nate Jones: He was an A-lister with an indisputable body of work; he was 50 years old, his hits were the right age — old enough that every generation knew them, but not too old that they weren’t relevant anymore.

LB: But it was also the first huge celebrity death to happen in the age of social media, or at least the age of Twitter.

NJ: MJ’s death came alongside the protests in Iran, which was when Twitter went mainstream.

LB: It also meant that so much of the instant reaction was to make it all about us.

Frank Guan: In a lot of ways, the culture prefers the death of artists to their continuing to live. Once an artist gets launched into the stratosphere, there’s no way to come down, and that permanence becomes monotonous. They run out of timely or groundbreaking material and the audience starts tuning out. At some point, their fame eclipses their art, and then the only way to get the general audience to appreciate them anew is for them to die.

LB: People seem to like the grieving process so much that even lesser celebrities get the same treatment.

Congresswoman Gabby Giffords Returns To The House Floor For The First Time Since Being Shot In A Massacre In January Casting A Vote In Favor Of The Debt

A Rare Moment of Unity

“I was doing intensive rehabilitation in Houston at the time but was following the debate closely, and I was pretty disappointed at what was happening in Washington. I’d seen the debate grow so bitter and divisive and so full of partisan rancor. And I was worried our country was hurtling toward a disastrous, self-inflicted economic crisis. That morning, when it became clear the vote was going to be close, my husband, Mark, and I knew we needed to get to Washington quickly. I went straight from my rehabilitation appointment to the airport, and Mark was at our house in Houston packing our bags so he could meet us at the plane.

That night, I remember seeing the Capitol for the first time since I was injured and feeling so grateful to be at work. I will never forget the reception I received on the floor of the House from my colleagues, both Republicans and Democrats. And then, like I had so many times before, I voted.

I worked so hard to get my speech back, and honestly, talking to people who share my determination helped me find my words again. I’ve been to Alaska, Maine, and everywhere in between. Best of all, I got back on my bike. Riding my bike once seemed like such a huge challenge. It seemed impossible.”

Miley Cyrus Twerks At The Mtv Vmassetting Off A Controversy About Cultural Appropriation That Soon Ensnares Seemingly Every White Pop Star On The Planet

• Karlie Kloss wears a Native American headdress and fringed bra at the Victoria’s Secret fashion show.

• Justin Timberlake is accused of appropriating black music when he tells a black critic “We are the same” after praising Jesse Williams’s BET Humanitarian Award speech about race and police brutality.

• DJ Khaled gets lost on Jet Ski, snaps the whole time.

• Two UW-Madison students snap their meet-cute as the entire student body cheers them on.

• Playboy Playmate Dani Mathers films and mocks an anonymous woman in the gym shower.

• A Massachusetts teen records the sexual assault of a 16-year-old girl. The video is later seen by a friend of the victim.

Prior To Going To War In Iraq Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld Optimistically Predicted The Iraq War Might Last Six Days Six Weeks I Doubt Six Months

What’s more, Vice-President Dick Cheney said we would be greeted as liberators by the Iraqi people after we overthrow Saddam.

They were both horribly wrong. Instead of six weeks or six months, the Iraq war lasted eight long and bloody years costing thousands of American lives. It led to an Iraqi civil war between the Sunnis and the Shiites that took hundreds of thousands of Iraqi lives. Many Iraqi militia groups were formed to fight against the U.S. forces that occupied Iraq. What’s more, Al Qaeda, which did not exist in Iraq before the war, used the turmoil in Iraq to establish a new foothold in that country.

The Iraq war was arguably the most tragic foreign policy blunder in US history.

In 2012 Republicans Predicted That Failure To Approve The Keystone Pipeline Would Send The Price Of Gasoline Sky High And Kill Large Numbers Of Jobs

Despite the fact that the Keystone Pipeline was not approved, the price of gasoline continued to drop below $1.80 per gallon, millions of new jobs were created and unemployment dropped from 8% to 4.9% by early 2016. The most optimistic predictions say that the Keystone Pipeline would only create a few dozen long-term jobs and would do nothing to lower the price of gasoline.

Eric Cantors Stunning Primary Loss Suggests No Politician Is Safe From The Rage Of The Tea Party Not Even The Tea Partys Canniest Political Leader

From Party’s Future to Also-Ran in a Single Day

On the day his political career died, Eric Cantor was busy tending to what he still believed was its bright future. While his GOP-primary opponent, David Brat, visited polling places in and around Richmond, Virginia, Cantor spent his morning 90 miles away at a Capitol Hill Starbucks. He was there to host a fund-raiser for three of his congressional colleagues — something he did every month, just another part of the long game he was playing, which, he believed, would eventually culminate in his becoming Speaker of the House.

The preceding five years had brought Cantor tantalizingly closer to that goal. In the immediate aftermath of Obama’s election, he’d rallied waffling House Republicans to stand in lockstep opposition to the new president’s agenda. In 2010, he’d helped elect 87 new Republican members, giving the GOP a House majority and making Cantor the House majority leader. He became the champion of these freshmen members, stoking their radicalism during the debt-ceiling fight and working to undermine Obama and John Boehner’s attempt to strike a “grand bargain.” His alliance with the ascendant tea party was strategic — it gave him leverage not only over Obama but over other Republicans who might also have had aspirations of becoming Speaker. It never occurred to him that the wave he was trying to ride might crash on him instead.

In 1993 When Bill Clinton Raised Taxes On The Wealthiest 15% Republicans Predicted A Recession Increased Unemployment And A Growing Budget Deficit

They weren’t just wrong: The exact opposite of everything they predicted happened. The country experienced the seven best years of economic growth in history.

Twenty-two million new jobs were added.

Unemployment dropped below 4%.

The poverty rate dropped for seven straight years.

The budget deficit was eliminated.

There was a growing budget surplus that economists projected could pay off our national debt in 20 years.

Republicans Predicted That We Would Find Iraqs Weapons Of Mass Destruction Even Though Un Weapons Inspectors Said That Those Weapons Didn’t Exist

The Bush administration continued to insist that WMDs would be found, even when the CIA said some of the evidence was questionable. As we all know, the WMDs predicted by the Bush administration did not exist, and Saddam Hussein had not resumed his nuclear weapons program as they claimed. Ultimately, both President Bush and Vice President Cheney had to admit that there were no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq.

Republicans Predicted That President Obamas Tax Increase For The Top 1% In 2013 Would Kill Jobs Increase The Deficit And Cause Another Recession

You guessed it; just the opposite happened. In the four years following January 1, 2013, when that tax increase went into effect, through January 2017, unemployment dropped from 7.9% to 4.8%, an average of more than 200,000 new jobs were created per month, Wall Street set new record highs, and the budget deficit was cut in half.

Over 5.7 million new jobs were created in the first two years after that tax increase. That’s more jobs created in two years than were created during the combined 12 years of both Bush presidencies.

In 2001 When George W Bush Cut Taxes For The Wealthy Republicans Predicted Record Job Growth Increased Budget Surplus And Nationwide Prosperity

Once again, the exact opposite occurred. After the Bush tax cuts were enacted:

The budget surplus immediately disappeared.

The budget deficit eventually grew to $1.4 trillion by the time Bush left office.

Less than 3 million net jobs were added during Bush’s eight years.

The poverty rate began climbing again.

We experienced two recessions along with the greatest collapse of our financial system since the Great Depression.

In 1993, President Clinton signed the Brady Law mandating nationwide background checks and a waiting period to buy a gun.

Apple Announces That It Has Sold 100 Million Iphoneswithin A Few Months It Will Overtake Exxonmobil As The Most Valuable Company In The World

Earthlings Gain a New Appendage

What if we had the singularity and nobody noticed? In 2007, Barack Obama had been on the trail for weeks, using a BlackBerry like all the cool campaigners, when the new thing went on sale and throngs lined up for it. The new thing had a silly name: iPhone. The iPhone was a phone the way the Trojan horse was a horse.

Now it’s the gizmo without which a person feels incomplete. It’s a light in the darkness, a camera, geolocator, hidden mic, complete ­Shakespeare, stopwatch, sleep aid, heart monitor, podcaster, aircraft spotter, traffic tracker, all-around reality augmenter, and increasingly a pal. At the Rio Olympics you could see people, having flown thousands of miles to be in the arena with the athletes, watching the action through their smartphones. As though they needed the mediating lens to make it real.

This device, this gadget — a billion have been made and we scarcely know what to call it. For his 2010 novel of the near future, , Gary Shteyngart made up a word, “äppärät.” “My äppärät buzzing with contacts, data, pictures, projections, maps, incomes, sound, fury.” Future then, present now. His äppäräti were worn around the neck on pendants. Ours are in our pockets when they aren’t in our hands, but they also sprout earbuds, morph into wristwatches and eyeglasses. Contact lenses have been rumored; implants are only a matter of time.

Let’s face it, we’ve grown a new organ.

Republicans Said Waterboarding And Other Forms Of Enhanced Interrogation Are Not Torture And Are Necessary In Fighting Islamic Extremism

In reality, waterboarding and other forms of enhanced interrogation that inflict pain, suffering, or fear of death are outlawed by US law, the US Constitution, and international treaties. Japanese soldiers after World War II were prosecuted by the United States for war crimes because of their use of waterboarding on American POWs.

Professional interrogators have known for decades that torture is the most ineffective and unreliable method of getting accurate information. People being tortured say anything to get the torture to end but will not likely tell the truth.

An FBI interrogator named Ali Soufan was able to get al Qaeda terrorist Abu Zubaydah to reveal crucial information without the use of torture. When CIA interrogators started using waterboarding and other enhanced interrogation methods, Zubaydah stopped cooperating and gave his interrogators false information.

Far from being necessary in the fight against terrorism, torture is completely unreliable and counter-productive in obtaining useful information.

In 2008 Republicans Said That If We Elect A Democratic President We Would Be Hit By Al Qaeda Again Perhaps Worse Than The Attack On 9/11

Former Vice-President Dick Cheney stated that electing a Democrat as president would all but guarantee that there would be another major attack on America by Al Qaeda. Cheney and other Republicans were, thankfully, completely wrong. During Obama’s presidency, we had zero deaths on U.S. soil from Al Qaeda attacks and we succeeded in killing Bin Laden along with dozens of other high ranking Al Qaeda leaders.

Game Of Thrones Arrives On Televisionwith An Assemblage Of Dragons Torture Nudity Incest And Despair A Show The Whole Family Can Enjoy

Explaining Kale

ADAM PLATT: Many things in Foodlandia, these days, have a political element to them, and if you want to emblazon a flag to be carried into battle, you could do worse than a bristly, semi-digestible bunch of locally grown kale.

ALAN SYTSMA: To eat kale is to announce you’re a person who cares about the matters of the day.

AP: The idea of kale is much more powerful than kale itself. In short order it went from being discovered, to appreciated, to being something that was parodied. Frankly, I’m all for the parody.

AS: The same thing happened to pork. Remember bacon peanut brittle? Bacon-fat cocktails? There’s bacon dental floss.

AP: Ahhh, bacon versus kale. The two great, competing forces of our time.

AS: Do you think one gave way to the other?

AP: What we’re really talking about is artisanal bacon, and the more sophisticated-sounding pork belly, made from pigs that were lovingly reared at upstate farms and fed diets of pristine little acorns. Bacon is the great symbol in the comfort-food, farm-fresh-dining movement, a kind of merry, unbridled pulchritude. Kale is the righteous yin to pork’s fatty, non-vegan yang.

AS: But pork has an advantage: People like the way it tastes.

AP: That’s a huge advantage, one that will hopefully see it through to victory.

[heli0s-writes]

I. What's in a name (that which we call a Bucky)

Summary: What kind of name is BUCKY? Your dog's name is BUCKEYE. Much better. Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes A/N: A more humorous work... be alert: everyone in this fic is a lil shit. Dog-lover reader. Enemies to friends to lovers and strap in kiddos, we’re going to Ohio!

Foot in Mouth Syndrome Masterpost

It’s past midnight when the bell on your doorknob titters. A high-pitched whine follows the noise and you drop the book in your hand before emitting a loud groan of annoyance. As a response to your complaint, footsteps quickly pad back towards the computer room you sit in.

“God damn it,” you scold towards the door, “I just took you out like an hour ago.”

It’s half-serious, half-playful as you point a finger towards the 50-pound mass of pure muscle now pitifully cocking his head to the side. Your dog, Buckeye, lovingly named after your alma-mater’s mascot whines pathetically as he falls forward onto his two front paws and gives you the saddest look he can muster. The slate-grey skin between his eyes bends upwards in crinkly folds as he continues to peer at your perched figure on the swivel chair.

You shuffle your desk space around, placing the heavy tome from your hand over the mountain of other paperbacks scattered about. Taking one final look over the paper you’d been working on for the last two weeks, you hit save, making sure it uploads itself to the online drive before stepping away.

The clock on the lower right-hand corner of your monitor reads 2:30. Fuck. Way more than past midnight. You had been so focused on writing you didn’t even realize how late it was. Sending an apologetic look to your dog, you rub his ear before heading down the hallway and grabbing the leash by the door. Poor guy, you hadn’t taken him out in almost four hours.

He’s striding towards you, tail wagging back and forth at the sight of your hand on the leash. His tongue flops out stupidly and you giggle at how dumb he looks. Before clipping the leash to his collar, you give him a big kiss on the head and push your face affectionately. He’d come such a long way in the past five months.

“Okay, big baby. Let’s go.”

The training bell hanging from the knob flails against the door as you step outside, closing it shut.

You and Buckeye head downstairs, your slippers squishing against the wet grass as he leads you over to his favorite sniffing grounds. Under the lamp, you scroll on your phone distractedly, making sure you’d replied to all the e-mails you had received earlier in the day. Eyeing him from time to time to make sure he’s doing what he’s supposed to, you tap out a quick response to a group message from some classmates. They’re probably awake at this time anyway, you muse bitterly, graduate school can be a real bitch like that. Tucking the phone into your back pocket, you fiddle a doggy bag from its container strapped to the leash and maneuver it over your hand.

“No sniffing that poo.” You command Buckeye, and he gazes back over his shoulder at you for a single brief second, as if truly contemplating your authority before giving it a quick whiff anyway. You scoff before tugging him from the pile and further back into the grass. “C’mon, Buck. Dude, I gotta get back in. Please poop. The bag’s ready for you.”

You wave it around helplessly as he traipses on, keeping close, but really pushing your patience. Ten minutes later, you decide you’ve had it with him and start tugging him back towards the sidewalk. He resists at first and you have to use your “mom” voice a couple of times before he follows your lead and drags himself back to your side.

This was the usual routine of your life: wake up, go to campus, work on campus, work from home, find time to eat, work some more, go to bed. In-between all of those activities was of course, take Buckeye outside to jog, pee, shit, and socialize… when he was up for it.

You “adopted” the big lug from the shelter six months ago, falling head over heels for that stupid white oblong patch (you called it his Penis Patch because c’mon… it looked like one) and that wrinkly-ass forehead of his. He had been abused as a puppy and then abandoned in an alleyway with a handful of other pit bulls. By the time he got to the animal shelter, he was massively underweight and terrified of being near humans. He was only two months old. It took a lot of work on your end to get him back to a normal weight and as much as people loved to praise how you “saved” him- it was honestly the opposite that happened.

Yes. It was cheesy and gross as fuck to admit out loud, but that dumb animal actually saved you.

If you hadn’t adopted him and decided he was going to be your tether to this fuck-ass world, you were cock-sure you’d have tied yourself a noose out of bedsheets already. It’s what you told your therapist because it was just the damn truth.

The spring air of Manhattan whips over your face as you make your way towards the stairs of your unit, taking glances here and there to make sure nothing scary was happening. Your location was relatively safe, but honestly, you never know with people. You had seen your fair share of frightening and inexplicable things from your time in New York.

As if you were summoning the bad luck to your doorstep, gunshots ring out from a few blocks away. At least you hope it is, because the echo throughout your apartment unit suggests that it’s much closer. Buckeye starts twitching, darting left and right at the sound. You’re steeling your body as he begins to pull and snap at him with your fingers, calling his name. He heads quickly towards the apartment. Another shot resonates between the buildings.

On your right, Buckeye lets out a high-pitched yelp and jumps as rapid footsteps approach behind you. You barely make it two steps out of the way before a heavy body barrels into you and knocks you onto the sidewalk. Both your knees hit the concrete hard and you immediately roll to your side and fumble to find the leash that fell from hand. Your dog is losing it, and frankly, you are about to as well.

He starts to take off towards the darkness of the grass and you’re screaming his name, trying to scramble up to catch the plastic handle of the retractable leash that’s dragging against the ground. His tongue is loose and panting as he whips his head back and forth between you and the darkness, unsure of where to go.

“Come here! Come!”

You ignore the searing in your kneecaps and reach out as you take a step. Before you can make it much farther, an arm swings itself over your neck and strangles the rest of your words.

A single shot fires off at your dog. Buckeye is outta there. He’s yelping the whole way and you cannot stop yourself from shrieking.

“Don’t fucking speak.” A voice growls behind you. The body it belongs to is distinctly masculine as they knee you in the back and prop you up to stand beside them. The cold barrel of a gun presses itself against your temple and you freeze, hands quivering at your sides. Your heart has either imploded or is about to because you can’t tell if it’s beating or not anymore. There is ringing in your ears from the gun being fired in such close quarters, your eyes struggle to focus.

You have so many questions, but your mind is currently a squirrel in traffic running between the front axle of two tires labelled: “Is this where I fucking die?” and “Is my dog okay?”. Getting splattered to bits by either one was dealer’s choice, and your dealer didn’t seem too choosy.

In the distance, footsteps approach and you see two large frames enter your blurry field of vision, lit up under the streetlamp. There are two glimmering silver shapes reflecting that flickering light, one in the shape of a … dinner plate? And the other… another dick. What the hell? Oh god, you think automatically about your dick-spot-shaped dog. Where is he?

“Let her go!” the dinner plate yells. The barrel presses further into your head.

“Drop your weapons!” your assailant calls back, “Or she dies!”

You’re in a bad procedural cop show or something, you swear. Or Ashton Kutcher is 50 years old and he is laughing his ass off in a van right now, filming a new season of Punk’d. You squeeze your eyes shut when the gun clicks against your head, which is generally right after it goes off, according to the movies. There’s a warm sensation against your back and you hope to god that it isn’t you pissing yourself. When you smell the coppery scent rising, you realize it’s the man’s blood. When he sways a little and your body droops with him, you are positive it’s his blood.

The funny silver California/dick shape in the distance moves and becomes a small circle, with a dark spot in the middle. Is that a fucking gun? You blink a couple of times to see the shadowy outlines of the two people stepping closer. There’s aggravated whispering from both of them and your attacker begins to yell about something before a deafening blast cracks past your eyes.

Warm blood sprays on your face when the man falls backwards, heavy limb taking you down with him. You get some of it in your mouth and you scramble to fuck off as far as you can from this now dead body. The two shapes are running towards you, one of them gripping you hard by the arm and pulling you up.

“Buckeye! That is not protocol!”

You dizzily shake your head at the sound of your dog’s name and find your balance on the sidewalk, toes pressing against your slipper to have it back on your foot correctly. In front of you were two enormous men, and you recognize them immediately: Captain America and Winter Soldier.

“You know I don’t miss.” The Soldier retorts, bottom half of his face obscured by his signature black latex mask. It muffles his voice, but you can clearly hear the agitation. Captain America looks over your dripping red knees. “You okay, ma’am?”

You ignore him. As far as you are concerned at this point, they’re both just as dead to you as this other fucker on the ground. You want to find your dog.

“Buck?” You call into the patch of darkness as you carefully tread into the grass, wincing when your knees sting with every step. You don’t see the two Avengers looking at each other in confusion.

“BUCK!” You scream again, panic returning to your chest as you think about your dog scurrying around in the dark, dragging his damn leash, and spiraling back into the hot mess he was six months ago. Damn it, it had taken you so long to train him out of being skittish, and now he was going to be right back in it. You look around the dark, turning the flashlight on your phone and follow what looks like to be a trail of blood. It’s not yours, so you correctly deduce it’s Buckeye.

You start to hyperventilate, shaking with every step.

“Oh, Buck, you piece of shit you, I swear to god, if you’re dead, I’m going to kill you.”

“…Ma’am?”

You whip around and glare at Captain America, “What!” He takes a step back, hands coming up as if to deflect your outcry. His partner next to him places his gun back in the holster at his hip with a quiet click, eyeing you suspiciously. Captain America looks around, like he’s surprised you’ve yelled, because he probably doesn’t get yelled at very often by people he saves.

“…Can I ask what you’re doing?”

“Th’ broad’s mental.” The Soldier scoffs, heading back towards the limp body on the ground. He digs his hands into every pocket of the corpse, even opening the mouth to peer inside. “We need to move this body.” He pulls out a tiny USB from a sewn-on pocket inside the vest and puts it in a pouch on his belt.

“I’m looking for my damn dog.” You hurl, “I’m looking for my fucked-up rescue dog, who was doing very well and on his way to being a proper good boy, before you fucks came along and shot him!”

You hear yourself being more and more hysterical with every syllable. Your pitch is increasing with your heart rate, and the part of you that fears retribution from super soldiers is raising its hand up to be called on by your dominant lizard-brain. Your lizard-brain is soaked in fear and refuses the hand.

“That guy shot your dog.” The Soldier nudges the body with a steel-toed boot.

“You scared him! He’s afraid of loud noises and you were shooting up the place, you trigger-happy motherfucker,” you point a finger to the offending Avenger, “You could have shot me, you bag of limp dicks.”

Winter Soldier lets your insults slide; you’re definitely off your meds, he thinks. “Like I said, I don’t miss.”

Captain America finally snaps his shield back onto his back and runs a hand through his hair. You’re half surprised he’s not wearing that dorky-ass helmet he’s usually sporting but turn around regardless and start walking faster, ignoring the muddier ground the further you go in. From the position next to the soon-to-be chalk outline, the two Avengers argue quietly before one of them groans and they both fall silent. You figure they’ve kissed and made up.

Grass is shuffling behind you as Captain America effortlessly catches up to your uneven steps.

“I can track your dog. Let me help.”

You say nothing because you’re so preoccupied with being pissed off that this happened in the first place and because you honestly couldn’t refuse the help regardless of how overinflated your pride was. You couldn’t see for shit in the dark and you’d rather have Buckeye back than any amount of satisfaction flinging insults could bring. Stepping back, you let Brown-Beard take the lead and follow him through the mud and into the back of a unit now five buildings away.

When you slip on a particularly wet patch, he’s quick to grab your elbow and support you. He also takes it as an opening to make conversation.

“What’s type of dog is…”

“Buckeye.” You say, pulling your elbow away and falling back into step. He turns around and raises a single eyebrow.

“Buck…eye?” The second syllable is dropped low- as if he’s unsure that it’s the right thing to say.

“….Yes. Buckeye.” You hiss back.

“Buck…eye.” He repeats again, moving the sounds around in his mouth carefully. You pull a face but say nothing. Boy they sure like to make ‘em big and dumb, don’t they?

“He’s a pit bull. He’s gray with a white patch on his chest. He’s not fucking lethal or anything- like people think he’s just… damaged. He’s not even full-grown; just an oversized ball of anxiety and post-traumatic stress.” Your voice becomes distressed the more you talk about your good boy, and you decide to shut up before you can burst into tears.

“We’ll find him, promise.” Captain tries to send you a smile, but it gets misplaced in the thick of his beard and you’re not even looking anyway, pretending to follow the trail so he doesn’t see your eyes well up. You’re thankful for his help. But fuck him still; he scared your dog.

“There’s no more blood, which is good,” He says, “Steps are getting closer together, so he’s not running anymore. There’s a funny… thing- though. What’s he dragging?”

“His leash.” You mutter.

“Ah.” There’s a pause, “You know, that’s actually a good thing- it’ll slow him down.”

 It’s at least another twenty minutes of walking in silence as you follow Captain Star Spangled Banner out of your apartment complex and down three completely decrepit alleyways, at least one littered with broken glass. Upon entering the fourth one, you swear you hear clattering in the back and pick up your speed, calling out.

“Buck? Buckeye? Is that you?” Your voice is quivering in the dark. Your companion has stilled beside you, not letting his footsteps drown out your voice. “Buckeye, come here.” You’re as careful as can be as you quietly step forward, a tiny bit closer to the slow shadow in the corner.

When a car drives by on the main road, the shine of headlights reflects two glowing blue pearls that you’d recognize anywhere. His tail is wagging happily against the pavement of the alleyway, and it breaks your heart to see he’s battered in blood.

You put both your arms around him to settle him from possibly scurrying away at the sight of Captain’s figure, who hangs in the back, but is still so large that it disturbs Buckeye. “My big guy,” You sob into his stupid, dirty neck, “You’re all muddy... Oh Buck, you big idiot… you dummy.”

You find the handle on the leash again, but Buckeye is tentative to follow, stumbling when he stands up on all four feet. When you lean over to examine him, he’s all cut up on his paws and you see it now, the big streak of open flesh on his upper thigh that’s crusted over into a brown stripe. The shiny fur that’s beneath it is matted with more dried blood and it’s so large that you break out into tears all over again. You don’t think he’s able to walk anymore, which might have worked out in your favor; it did stop him from running.

Captain slowly makes his way toward the two of you and reach both hands out, kneeling and laying one gently underneath Buckeye’s snout to scratch him. Your dog inspects the hand nervously before giving it a quick lick. He pants happily at the scratch to his chin and you can’t help but snort at his simplicity. Captain offers to pick him up for you and you let him, surprised that Buck’s letting someone other than you be so close. You’re glad for it, though, since you would not have been able to pick him up out of the alleyway on your own.

“I’ve been compared to a Golden Retriever before,” Captain says amiably as he easily holds Buckeye in his arms, leading you out of the dark path. He’s got a glint in his eye like he’s real proud of himself for that quip. “I definitely think of myself as a dog person.”

You scoff and save your retort for another time, pointing him in the direction of your local pet emergency hospital instead.

-

It must have been a sight for them, Steve ponders as he sits in the waiting chair of the hospital, giving away smiles at the receptionists and nurses who occasionally gather to stare at him. When the automatic doors slid open, they probably weren’t expecting Captain America in full tactical gear to walk in with a dog in his arms. Not to mention the young woman who followed, looking in not much better shape than the dog.

He glances over to you as you lean back in the plastic chair resembling more of a bucket than anything comfortable. Both your knees are completely skinned raw and the trail of blood reached your feet, caked in mud. The woman at the front desk offered you some bandages and antiseptic, which you’d haphazardly sloshed all over yourself before resigning to let it be. Your eyes have slipped closed as you wait for the nurse to come talk to you about your dog; it is late, after all—nearly four in the morning, and Steve lets you rest when he hears your breathing slow.

He begins to check his phone, punching in a text to Bucky with updates, barely able to hold back the giddy energy inside of him. Bucky was going to flip when Steve cracks open the can of worms that is the dog’s name. And it’s going to completely boil his noodle when he hears that your description of your dog almost perfectly matched Steve’s own description of Bucky. He swears right now, under these old fluorescent lights and with God’s blessing that he would never, ever, let Bucky live this down.

“You… use…a … flip… phone?” Your disbelieving voice is so quiet that Steve thinks a ghost is making fun of him.

“Well, it does flip, and it is a phone.” He retorts, face completely blank for a couple of seconds before breaking out into a smirk.

Your sit up in the chair, looking over to Steve incredulously. “Who are you, my dad?” Your features twist into a disgusted sneer, but he catches the amusement in your eyes.

He chuckles in response. It’s not the first time Steve’s been told that his jokes were corny, at this point in his life, he’s decided to just go with it.

“Don’t you have someplace to be? Maybe more Avenging in another quiet neighborhood?” The snark comes out sharper than you intend it, but between the two hours of sleep last night and probable zero hours of sleep you’ll get tonight, you’re on autopilot.

“It’s being taken care of.” He stares straight ahead. Your comment implies that you’d rather him leave, but he feels in part responsible and obligated to stay. Besides, you’ll need a ride home and someone to carry your pet to the door. “I’m sorry about your dog.”

“He’s not fucking dead,” You huff, “If he was, you and Bicentennial Man would be fucked. You won’t believe how many knives I can carry in my mouth alone.”

Steve almost gives himself whiplash as he does a double-take on your completely placid and unfazed profile view. He thinks it’s better not to ask about the capacity of knives your mouth can hold or about how you know that very specific fact about yourself. However, he can’t help from letting out a wheeze of a laugh because the feral image frankly reminds him more and more of Bucky; Steve has definitely seen Bucky with a knife in his mouth.

Another fifteen minutes pass of drifting in and out of sleep before the nurse peeks her head out and calls you into the treatment room. She stares open-mouthed when Steve followed dutifully behind and closes the door with a quiet click.

Buckeye is lying in a lethargic daze on the table with a plastic cone around his neck. The large gash on his leg has been stitched and carefully covered by gauze and his paws are bandaged up as well. At the sight of the two of you, his tail begins to pat slowly against the smooth surface of the table in quick taps before trailing off and starting back up again. He is looking into your eyes, but Steve can see his gaze wander around the room in a medicated stupor from time to time.  

His stomach tightens when you begin to sniffle and draw lazy circles on Buckeye’s head with your thumb. The nurse runs over the health diagnostic for your pup and all seems pretty well, considering the doleful state he’s in.

“He might not eat for the first day, but you’ll have to try to make him...” The nurse hands you a large zip-loc full of bandages, ointments, pills, and paper. “Keep the cone on for at least two weeks and stick to the dosage schedule… Do you have any questions?”

You shake your head, rifling through the various items in the bag before zipping it back up.

“Okay. Well, he’s doing really good, and I think he’ll make a speedy recovery soon.” The nurse offers you a smile and you reply kindly, thanking her for everything before sighing at Buckeye. Steve steps forward in the silent moment and scoops your dog’s tired body into his arms before thanking the nurse as well. She goes white as a sheet when you open the door to let him out. Steve hopes there won’t be any tweets later about Captain America saving puppies.

 At the front desk, Steve watches you shuffle side to side when the receptionist rings up each cost. Dressed in an oversized Ohio shirt and pajama shorts, it’s obvious you are not prepared for this. You were probably just a college student, and since he didn’t see you make any phone calls to your parents or family members who might foot the bill, he assumes you’re on your own. Before the receptionist can hand you anything, Steve shifts and tilts his right leg forward.

“Can you reach into this pocket?” He asks, startling everyone in the vicinity: you, the receptionist, and your dog. You stare at him dumbly for a minute, grimacing at the leg pointed in your direction and the back-and-forth Captain America’s eyes keep sending you. It goes from your face to his pocket and every time it returns to your face your frown drops more.

“What?”

“For my wallet.”

“Fuck no!”

“C’mon… I don’t think you have any other options,” the sentence hangs on a truth you don’t need spoken. You pale and begrudgingly reach for the snap closure on his thigh, widening grimace now making your face look like a melted Dali painting. The receptionists’ eyebrows go higher and higher the closer your shaking hand gets. Captain America bounces his leg to shake the leather case loose as your hand digs inside and gets stuck between fabric and muscle. Buckeye grumbles in his arms at the jostling and his holder whispers a quiet apology before nuzzling him with his nose.

He doesn’t notice you staring. The receptionist does.

When the wallet is finally pried free (why are his pants so tight, anyway? This bitch is dummy thicc, too, you think) he motions for you to pull out a black card with a surprising bit of heft to it. You nervously hand it over and avoid eye contact with him as the transaction finishes, stuffing the damn thing back in and snapping it shut in one swift motion. You can feel your face stuck in a rigid expression of bewilderment the entire time.

“I-- uh... thanks... for that.”

He motions you with his head to go outside and when you follow him through the automatic doors, a black car is parked in front. The Winter Soldier is in the driver seat and reaches over to open the door. He’s taken his mask off and looks over at the Captain with your dog in his arms. He’s all stubbly and homeless-looking, you think, the complete opposite of Golden Boy Rogers in front of you.

An exhausted look passes over his dark features as he glances from Captain to Buckeye to your fucked-up knees. “...Just... get in.”

 The ride is silent save for the sound of Buckeye’s soft whimpers in the fit of a nightmare. You hush him with soft pets and coo his name in his ears. “It’s okay, Buck. I’m here, Bucky.”

The Soldier snaps his gaze up to you from the rearview mirror. Captain America smirks. You catch neither of their expressions, transfixed on your dog who resembles Frankenweenie more than himself. Stupid fucking bad guy. Stupid Avengers.

“What did you just say?” Winter Soldier slowly asks, and you glare at him in the rearview mirror.

“What?” You snap back. What the fuck was his problem? “Mind your fucking business, I’m talking to my goddamn dog.” Buckeye whimpers again and you pat him lightly to soothe his crying. Captain America begins to chuckle quietly from the passenger seat the longer Winter Soldier stares at you. “Eyes on the fucking road.” You hiss when you catch his glare.

He’s probably going to shoot your ass, you think. Your dog begins to whimper again, a broken string of yowling erupting from him before he stills. The taped gauze on his side has started to turn a slight pink. “It’s gonna be okay, Buck.” You sigh.

“Jesus, what the fuck are you saying?” Winter Soldier nearly shrieks as he pulls sharply into a parking space in front of your building. His volume startles your dog and he shoots up with a loud whine, hitting the plastic cone on the back of the driver’s side. You quickly place both hands on his back to settle him down. “Buckeye, it’s okay.”

Captain America is in a full-on giggle fit now, having to hold his sides to stop himself from seizing. He briefly pauses to apologize and puts a hand on your dog’s head, quieting him with a lazy pet.

“It’s her dog, Buck!” “Yeah I know it’s my dog, Buck.” You snarl, confused as to why this is even a topic of discussion.

Red, white, and shit-for-brains starts up again with the laughing. “Th-the dog’s name--” He wheezes. “Is Buckeye.” There’s a flash of recognition that sweeps over the driver’s reflection in the rearview before it turns into one of annoyance. Then it turns into disdain.

“What kind of a fucking name is that?” He spits before smacking his hand into Captain America’s chest.

“Hey! Shut the hell up! That’s my alma mater you uneducated dickbag!” You point to your red Ohio State shirt with the big “O” right in the middle. It’s so worn and old that the red has faded, and the white print of the O is all cracked, but anyone with two braincells knows exactly what that means. You start bellowing the Ohio State Fight Song proudly and halfway through the second note Buckeye starts to howl weakly beside you.

Captain America bursts into another fit of laughter and pounds on the dashboard with his fists.

The Soldier whips around and slams his metal hand against your mouth, pushing your entire head back against the cushion. “Will you shut up!” To spite him, you continue humming to the best of your ability, even with your lip smushed up against your teeth and his cold palm. You raise your middle finger up between his eyes before holding the last note out particularly long.

Buckeye yowls and yips at your side, punctuating the tune with a quiet whine at the end. He lazily reaches up and licks the elbow joint between the front seat, leaving a slobber trail. He notices his reflection in it temporarily before getting distracted by Captain’s chuckle and lying back down.

Winter Soldier finally pulls his arm away and you take the opportunity to spitefully lick a similar stripe onto his palm, leaving it dripping with the spit you’ve accumulated in your mouth.

He crossly slumps in his seat. “I fucking hate this girl.” He mutters.

“It’s mutual, princess.” You retort, rubbing your stiff jaw and running your fingers against your lips. “What’s your problem with my dog’s name?” You’re a bit suspicious because he doesn’t seem like a college sports guy since he was non-responsive to your shirt but he sure as hell is not a fan of your dog.

“Do you know our names?” Captain America asks you, eyes alight. You shrug, because like, not really. World War II was interesting when you were in the sixth grade and morbid as fuck but it totally went in one ear and out the other for your entire college career. Even more boring was the Captain America propaganda, Super Soldier serum, humanity’s hubris bullshit. You were one of the few people you know who was not losing their mind when Tony Stark toured your university. More than anything, he annoyed you; he caused a huge traffic jam on campus and it ruined your route home. They just weren’t your thing—the Avengers.

“I mean, Stevie Ro… Rober—“ you gauge his reaction carefully, “Ronald— Ro— Ross? Rogers!” You breathe a sigh of relief as he memory of Emily Booth in fourth period doodling “Rogers” inside a million hearts appears in your mind. Then you turn to The Soldier and shrug. Plain as day, you could not recall his name whatsoever. You just called him the Dead Commando in that fourth period American History II final paper.

You got a passing grade, so “Dead Commando” stuck.

“It’s James Buchanan Barnes.” He grits out between clenched teeth.

“That’s fancy.” You deadpan, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Bucky. For short.”

“Buck, for even shorter.” Rogers pipes up, still all twinkly in the eyes, waiting for you to put two and two together. Yeah. You do. It makes you want to die a little.

“Ugh.” Is all you can manage.

--

He shows up the next morning in civvies: white T-shirt, navy blue bomber jacket, and well-worn dark jeans. You stare dumbly at him as he leans against your doorframe, almost as wide as the entrance itself. You’re half-asleep and dressed in the clothes you had on last night: crumpled red Ohio shirt, mismatched pinstriped blue and white pajama shorts.

Your phone had been misplaced amidst the ruckus of the search party, so you just planned on missing your meeting today. It wasn’t like you could properly function anyway, barely getting to bed at 5:30 and waking up at the asscrack of dawn with Captain Underpants at your door.

Even his knocks sounded patriotic. Big, strong thumping blows that rattled all the way into your bedroom.

“Rough night?” Steve Rogers asks as you try your best to smooth the flyaways of your bedhead. Stupid, perfect, blonde and blue-eyed giant man.

“Am I being haunted? What are you doing here?” Your voice sounds like gravel in a blender as you rub the sleep from your eyes.

He shrugs, looking down at his shoes and smiling secretively, like he’s got another corny joke up his sleeve. “Just wanted to see how Buck’s doing.”

“Don’t you have your own Buck to babysit? From what I remember, he needs a leash more than mine does.”

You let him in anyway, and your dog is waiting patiently by the couch, tail slapping the carpet as he remembers his savior from last night. Steve starts to coo as he scratches Buckeye’s chin and head, careful not to rile him up too much. He looks in complete ecstasy when Steve picks at a particularly good spot.

You shift awkwardly as you stand by the kitchen bar, leaning against a stool. How does one man still manage to look like his superhero moniker in civilian clothing? You bet yourself that his closet hung the same monochromatic color pallet—as if costume director dressed him, just in case he forgot he was Captain America.

“Well...” you begin, moving to the kitchen to brew yourself some coffee. Halfway to the single-serving French press, you trade it out for the larger one and add extra water in the kettle. You’re not sure what to say, so you shut up and groan inwardly as you grind the beans. You dip into the restroom and return with your toothbrush, scrubbing quietly as you watch Steve get on the floor to rub your dog’s pink tummy.

“If you pet him with your foot he won’t know the difference. Save ya knees, man.”

“This good boy deserves a real tummy rub, doesn’t he?” Captain America is using baby talk on your dog. It makes you feel... all funny.

Steve Rogers stands up and beams at you from across the counter. You frown because his perfect white smile is brighter than the sunlight streaming in through your window. You spit and rinse your toothbrush in the sink to avoid the shine, but he’s still there when you return. Great. Not a dream. Maybe a nightmare.

You take the kettle off the stovetop when it starts to squeak and blurt out another snarky comment just because you really hate silences and love being awkward. “Buckeye’s gonna get neutered soon. Wanna take yours too?”

Captain America chuckles and shakes his head, blue eyes twinkling at the hand on your hip. “You know, that smart mouth o’ yours is gonna get you into trouble one day.” You gulp as you pour the water suddenly aware that there is a real, live, broad-as-hell man standing in your living room and looking at you like you’re somebody... and he called your mouth smart.

You’re also suddenly aware that you look like shit and your hand shakes a little when you place the filter over the top of the floating coffee grinds.

“Fuck, I think I’m already in trouble.” You mutter into your shoulder as you turn.

Steve doesn’t catch the comment and digs his hand into his back pocket, producing the phone you’ve been missing since last night. You sigh in relief when you see it- as good as it was before, partially cracked screen, but still working. It’s warm when he puts it in your hand and you automatically pull a face.

“Butt heat. I mean--- hot! Hot ass!—Oh, damn it.”

You shut your eyes and the world feels like it’s stopped spinning altogether. Please god, you think, please let him be gone when you look again because you don’t think you can stand another minute on this Earth. Damn your stupid no-filter smart mouth.

He’s still there, though, because life is so stupid and whatever creator that exist hates you. His left eyebrow is raised, and he’s crossed his arms over his chest, smirking.

“You need to brush up on your compliments.”

“Not a compliment!” You hiss, “Don’t put people’s phones in your back pocket! You’re too fucking big to be sitting on them. But thank you for giving it back.”

Steve laughs as you push the filter down on the French press. He’s saying something about how Bucky wanted to put his hand through the device, but your ears are ringing too loudly to hear him. You feel relieved anyway, because you think that you’ve reached your quip-quota for the day.

You pour yourself a cup and he puts his hands up to stop you, excusing himself-- somewhere to be, some old lady to save, he says. You fumble around a bottom cabinet for a second before pulling out a thermos and dumping the rest of the press’ coffee into it.

“Since you did hand-deliver my phone to me, it’s the least I can do. It’s blue, too. Complements your eyes.”

He smiles and takes the thermos from you. “That was a good compliment.” He says, all twinkly again.

“Complement, not compliment.” You correct bluntly.

He takes two steps to the door before turning, “No, the compliment was that you noticed my eyes at all.” He laughs when your face scrunches up, miffed. Captain America was a real … sonuvabitch. “By the way... I left you a number for a dogsitter, just in case you need one.” You rotate the flat rectangle of your phone against your chest as he yanks the door open. “It’s a good service. Reliable. And they text, too.”

And just like that, he’s gone. You stare at Buckeye, who whines pathetically at the door.

You cock your head, looking at the time on the splintered screen. Might as well, you think, reading 7:15 flashing back at you. You could make it to campus by 9.

 The meeting drags on with your advisor, and it’s almost noon before you realize that you’re going to get hauled into another one of those pop-up seminars the faculty has been putting on all year. You’ve managed to avoid two because there’s just no fucking time to go! How are they expecting you to finish your thesis, go to class, grade a hundred stupid student papers, hold office hours, respond to a thousand e-mails a day, and keep your sanity?

It’s something you’re eager to complain to your therapist about any time she starts asking about your personal life. Which, you’ve been dodging re-scheduling recently. Shit.

You calculate the hours you’ll be away as you sip room-temperature coffee from a fuzzy paper cup. It’ll be another four hours before you can make it home and Buckeye really needs to go outside and have his bandages changed before then. Shit.

Your thumbprint opens the home screen and you scroll through your contacts, searching for that aforementioned “reliable” dogsitter. You hope to hell they’re also immediately available as you part a crowd of undergraduates to exit the building. Tapping the message bubble button, you open up a new thread.

You: Hello. I was referred to your services by a friend. Are you available today by any chance?

Your phone almost immediately vibrates back and you sigh in relief.

Dogsitter: That was fast.

You’re confused, but another response pops up again.

Dogsitter: What time do you need me to come by? And for how long?

You: ASAP? If that’s okay? Um. My dog is really fine on his own, but he’s been in an accident and I need him to have his bandages changed and given medicine. Also, he needs to be taken for a potty-break.

Dogsitter: Potty break, medicine, bandages. Got it…. And what about your key?

You: Yeah, I’ll send you my location for my key. What are your rates by the way?

You open up your map and set the pin to your location before sharing it with the dogsitter. It feels way too good to be true, but you’re a little crunched for time and even if he’s a crazy serial killer, you’ve got a pit bull and nothing of value in your apartment. You feel pretty secure.

The attempt to share your coordinates is rejected and you close the notification. Your phone buzzes in your hand again.

Dogsitter: My rates really depend on the dog… and shouldn’t you be asking for my name, or some identifying marker to recognize me by before I show up and take your [1/2]

You stare blankly at the green speech cloud. What the hell… even twitter updated its character count to 280… who the hell is living so far in the past… before you can finish your thought, the following green balloon appears.

Dogsitter: house key? Stranger danger, ma’am. [2/2]

All the right gears start clicking in your brain and suddenly two perfect pieces of the puzzle fits together. The mystifying black shadow on the other end of the line begins to come into view.

You: ….Steve... Roberts?

Dogsitter: Rogers!

The sound that erupts from your mouth is inhumanly pathetic, a mixture of a groan and a whine. Who did you piss off in your last life to be this cursed?

Next Chapter

[onewfantaesy]

“Did you wash your hair yesterday?”

“No.”

“Then I want you to wash it tonight.”

Taemin whines and groans and flops over on the couch. It’s another Friday night of sleeping at Luna and Onew’s - both his parents were working late and had called Luna at five o’ clock to say Taemin needed to stay with her that night.

“Do I have to take a shower?” Taemin whines.

“Yes,” Luna laughs. “Why are boys so gross? Go take a shower!”

“We haven’t even had dinner yet!”

“Taemin,” Luna sighs, leaning over the back of the couch to look at him. “If I so nicely let you play your little game until dinnertime, will you promise to take a shower and wash your hair as soon as you’re done eating? With no arguing?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a deal then,” she says. “And you better eat all your vegetables.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“I’m making it part of the deal.”

Taemin whines and huffs and pouts, but he doesn’t argue. He just keeps playing the Pokémon game he got back a week ago.

An hour later, Taemin is huffing and stomping down the hall in his pajamas, his hair wet and dripping on the collar of his shirt.

“I don’t like your bathroom,” he whines, flopping back on the couch to sit with Luna. “It’s too small!”

“You are so spoiled it’s unbelievable.”

“What’s that s’posed to mean?” He whines, pouting at her.

“You’re too young to be complaining that my very normal sized second bathroom is too small. Little kids shouldn’t be so spoiled like you are with big giant en suite bathrooms.”

“It’s not like you didn’t have the same kinda bathroom when you were little,” Taemin scoffs. Luna only laughs.

“And just what gave you that idea?”

Taemin only looks confused.

“It’s - It’s Daddy’s house,” he stammers.

“Yeah, it is now,” Luna says gently. She smiles at him, laughs a little again, and tries not to make him feel bad. She can tell he’s confused, she doesn’t want to make it worse. “But when I was little, Daddy and my mommy lived in a different house.”

“Oh,” Taemin mumbles. “Was it not the same kinda house?”

“No, it was more like this house.”

“Oh. How come?”

“Well.” It’s Luna’s turn to stutter, not quite sure how to explain. “Daddy didn’t used to make as much money as he does now, so he couldn’t afford it.”

Now Taemin just looks more confused.

“Wasn’t Daddy always a lawyer?”

“Yeah, no matter what job you have, you never make as much at the beginning as you do once you’ve been doing it for a while.”

“What did your mommy do?”

Luna smiles and hugs him close to her, “She was a nurse, like me. She still is. You know that, you’ve met her.”

Taemin hums, and he leans against her side. She thinks he’s done with the questions fornthe night, so she tries to focus what’s on TV. And they’re both quiet for a while, just sitting on the couch together. But then Taemin’s questions start again.

“What was your mommy like when you were little?” he asks, his voice quiet.

Luna takes in a deep breath, trying to think.

“She was so fun when I was little,” she tells him. “We used to make blankets a lot, like the ones I make for you at Christmas still. And you know, Daddy used to work really late all the time even back then.”

She hugs him a little tighter and rubs her fingers through his still-wet hair, trying to comfort him.

“And sometimes, my mom and I would make Daddy his favorite desserts and bring them to the office so he knew we missed him.”

“Brownies?” Taemin asks, looking up at her.

“Brownies,” Luna confirms, smiling. “And sometimes lemon bars - during the summer - and sometimes cupcakes and sometimes cookies. Things he could eat in the office easily.”

Taemin laughs a little bit, and he’s got a big smile on this face. And it gives Luna an idea, and she grins back at him.

“Do you want to help me make some brownies, and we can go take them to Daddy and your mommy?”

“Can we?” Taemin asks, turning towards her. “Is it too late?”

“It’s only 6:30,” Luna hums. “I think it’d be okay. So do you want to?”

“Yes!”

After an hour spent giggling and licking whisks and taking taste tests, Luna is ushering taemin out to the car with the Tupperware full of still-warm brownies. He has a jacket on over his pajamas and his feet were shoved into his shoes, his heels crushing the backs. He’s so excited, Luna is watching him through the rear-view mirror, and he’s just got a big silly smile on his face. His mother is their father’s main secretary, it’s how they met. While it slightly bothers Luna, she knows Taemin doesn’t really realize what that means.

She regrets coming up with this idea almost immediately, however. As soon as they step through the door to their father’s firm, Luna can hear giggling and other explicit noises coming from his office. But it’s clear there’s more than just Taemin’s mother inside.

“Ew, are Mommy and Daddy kissing?” Taemin asks loudly, making a disgusted noise. “You said they were working!”

“I think they’re busy,” Luna says quickly, steering Taemin back out of the room.

“But the brownies,” Taemin says softly, gripping the Tupperware.

“Um, here,” Luna says. “We can leave them on your Monmy’s desk, and you can leave a note. Okay? I think they’re working on something important, so let’s go quickly.”

“It’s not the same,” Taemin mumbles, but he puts the brownies in his mom’s desk, leaves a note on a spare piece of paper that says From Taemin and Luna ♥️ in Taemin’s messy handwriting.

Luna doesn’t think they even heard them come in. It disgusts her, but she doesn’t let Taemin see. After getting home and telling Taemin to head to bed, she has a very heated discussion with Onew in their bedroom, trying to keep her voice low.

“A threesome!” She gasps, pulling back the bed covers and moving pillows around. “They asked us to watch him because they’re too busy having a threesome! With his other secretary! She’s younger than I am, Onew!”

“I know,” he sighs. “But there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s just a good thing you didn’t let Taemin see anything.”

“God, can you imagine? He’s nine-years-old! He’s nine, Onew! And his parents are out having a threesome with some twenty-five-year-old!”

They hadn’t even heard the door creak open, hadn’t seen Taemin inch inside and hug the door until he mumbles, “What’s a threesome?”

“Taemin!” Luna gasps, her eyes wide as she turns to him. Meanwhile, Onew looks like a deer in headlights.

“What is it?” Taemin asks, still gripping the doorknob and fidgeting from foot to foot. “Is it bad?”

“No,” Luna says carefully, clearing her throat. “Um, Onew, why don’t you explain?”

Onew glares at her a bit, annoyed that she’s passing it off to him.

“Well,” Onew starts and it’s his turn to clear his throat. He also waves Taemin over, trying to get him away from hugging the door. “You know how when a Mommy and Daddy love each other very much-”

“Are you gonna start talking about sex?” Taemin whines. “Why?”

“How do you know what sex is?” Onew snaps.

“‘Cause we had family life class last month,” Taemin scoffs. “I know how babies are made, I paid attention!”

“Oh really now?” Onew asks, laughing a bit. “Explain it to me, then.”

“Yeah, the guy puts his penis inside her, they kiss or something, and then nine months later the lady poops a baby out her vagina,” Taemin explains. “Which is just a girl butthole, I don’t get why it has a special name.”

Luna and Onew, meanwhile, are cracking up. It’s a terrible, horrible, and inappropriate situation, but listening to Taemin’s explanation of sex is just too much.

“I think your teacher needs to be better evaluated,” Onew laughs.

Taemin still looks confused, but Luna just waves Taemin closer and hugs him, pulling him down on the bed.

“Why’re you laughing?” Taemin whines, falling on the bed next to her.

“Because you’re too funny,” she says softly.

“They’re not making a baby, are they?” he whines, suddenly looking very upset. “I don’t want another brother or sister! You’re enough!”

Luna would laugh if she wasn’t so horrified about the whole situation.

“I don’t think they’re making another baby,” Luna says, trying to calm him down.

“But what’s a threesome?” Taemin mumbles. “Why won’t you tell me? Why were they doing it?”

“It’s a grown-up thing, sweetie.”

“If you don’t tell me I’ll just Google it later.”

“Do not Google it,” Luna says in a firm voice. “Do you understand? It’s inappropriate.”

“What is it?” he whispers. “Tell me.”

“It’s,” She stutters, trying to look to Onew. He just shrugs. “It’s when three people have sex instead of just two.”

“How?”

He looks beyond confused, and Luna thinks it would be almost funny if it wasn’t simultaneously destroying her baby brother’s innocence.

“I don’t know,” she tells him. “It’s not something I’ve ever done.”

“Is it not normal?”

“I think these are questions you’re still too young for,” she says gently. “I think it’s time you went to bed.”

“You said they were working,” he mumbles, fiddling with a blanket. “That that was why I’m spending the night at your house.”

“They are working, sweetie,” Luna says, smoothing back his hair. “Daddy has a very important case right now, and your mommy is helping him.”

“Is a threesome a case?” he snaps, pouting at her. He looks almost mad, and Luna doesn’t blame him.

“No, it’s not,” she admits. “But we don’t know that they aren’t still working.”

“I wanna go home,” he whispers, moving to hide his face in her neck.

“I know,” she whispers back. Then she smiles and tries to tease him, “But you’re stuck with us for now.”

“I think it’s time for bed,” Onew says softly.

“Come on,” Luna says, helping Taemin sit up with her. “I’ll come tuck you in, okay?”

“I’m not little anymore,” Taemin mumbles. “You don’t have’ta tuck me in.”

“Well I want to,” she teases. “Humor me.”

She brings him into the extra bedroom he stays in when he’s with them, pulls back the covers, and kneels down next to the bed.

“Hey Taeminnie,” she says gently, smoothing back his hair. “When you go home tomorrow, do you think you can do something for me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I think it would be best if you didn’t mention any of this threesome stuff to your parents.”

“Why not?”

“Because most grown-ups don’t like talking about that sort of stuff with kids. It’s inappropriate.”

“If it’s inappropriate, then why were they doing it?”

“Sweetie,” Luna sighs, tucking his hair behind his ears. “It’s just inappropriate to talk about it with kids, is all.”

“When I’m older, will you tell me why it’s not okay to talk to them about it?” He whispers, playing with the blanket on his bed.

“I’ll tell you all about it when you’re older,” she says. “I promise. When you’re a teenager, I’ll tell you. Okay?”

“What kinda teenager?” he asks. “When I’m thirteen?”

“Try eighteen.”

“Fourteen?”

“Eighteen,” she insists. “Now go to sleep, okay? I’ll make you anything you want for breakfast in the morning.”

“Will you stay a little longer?” he whispers, one his hands gripping hers. “Til I fall asleep?”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “I’ll stay as long as you want.”

Taemin is still pouting, still looks sad, but he flips on his side so he’s facing her and tries to go to sleep. Luna rubs his arm softly, tries to lull him to sleep as best she can. He falls asleep after about twenty minutes, but she stays about ten minutes more. Until Onew comes in to check on them, and he brings her back to bed.

Luna is beyond upset. What was supposed to be a sweet, adorable evening spent with her little brother so quickly turned into something horrifying out of a bad daytime TV movie. And now her baby brother is asking about threesomes and talking about sex and it breaks her heart. She doesn’t know what to do about it.

[razberryyum]

Gintama manga chap 701

~

Dear Gintama gods and Sorachi-sama,

Thank you thank you and thank you again! I really cannot thank you enough! There not enough words in the dictionary to even express how thankful and grateful I am to you. Sorachi-sama, you are too, too generous and considerate! It would have been enough for me if you tried to continue Gintama in the next set of Jump Giga, but the fact that you are taking it one step further and essentially self-publishing in the free Gintama app so that you can continue our beloved series for as long as you deem proper is truly a magnanimous gesture of epic proportions. I hope this means that you can now take your time with the story and set your own deadlines so that you won’t have to work under any kind of pressure or experience that much stress. And naturally, in addition to being creatively rewarding, I hope your decision will also prove to be financially rewarding as well since I would hate to think you’d have to suffer any kind of monetary loss in order to be a responsible author who actually has your readers’ interests at heart.

If I’m to be honest, ever since the announcement that Gintama would be ending, it feels like I’ve been holding my breath in dread. Every time a new chapter would be released, even as I enjoyed it and fawned over it, I would also clench my teeth a little since it also meant that we were moving that much closer to the end. When it seemed like the end was finally coming in just three mere chapters within Jump Giga, the dread I felt was almost overwhelming. For at least the first two volumes of Jump Giga that Gintama was featured in, I wanted to cry every time we neared the release date of the new chapter since I would worry immensely about how much closer the content will bring us to the end. But then, by the second chapter (chapter 700), the heavy weight upon my heart eased a bit because it was then that I realized there was probably no logical way you could end Gintama in just one more chapter after that. In fact, as I listed out all the things you would have to cover in just 50 or so pages of this chapter, I started realizing further how near impossible a feat it would be for you to end Gintama in a satisfactory way. And I don’t mean satisfaction felt just for us as fans, but even for you as a creator I simply couldn’t imagine how you could be happy with rushing to the end in that manner. I should have known you wouldn’t be and hence that was probably never your intention anyway. Looking back at the last two chapters now and the almost leisurely progression of events, it feels rather obvious that you were indeed taking your time because you probably knew you had more time. The fact that we didn’t even get a Yorozuya reunion until this chapter should have been a big tell that you had alternative plans. Truly, thank the gods for that because I feel like I can finally relax a little...at least for the time being. I know the life of Gintama in the app might still be finite, but hopefully in such a venue, where the environment is less rigid, you can take your sweet time wrapping things up...even if that time lasts years.

I know, by now you’re probably screaming at me for being so damn greedy: as if it’s not already enough that Gintama isn’t ending with this chapter, how dare I even ask for many more years from you. Apologies for always being so hungry. I hope you understand my greediness will always be from a place of love even though if it feels like utter selfishness.

But speaking of love: our dear puppy is back and our Yorozuya have reunited and is whole again! I started crying at the words “He just wanted to come back to the Yorozuya”. To think, all this time, the key to Sadaharu’s revival was simply his family being back together again. I wish Kagura didn’t have to leave for two years just for that resolution, but I understand at the time, Sadaharu was probably still too weak to revive and then eventually he just didn’t want to revive until he was back in the warm embrace of his family. Well...at least figuratively speaking...while the hug between Kagura and Sadaharu was a heart-warming sight to behold, I did wish we could’ve still seen a good hearty embrace between our entire Yorozuya family as well. My eyes did get misty when Kagura and Shinpachi held Gin-chan's hand to help him get up, since that small gesture really symbolized their whole relationship with each other, but I was really looking forward to crying my eyes out at seeing them actually hugging, so I must admit I was just a tad bit disappointed that we weren't blessed with such a sight. I get it though: you’re probably holding off on that hug until later so that it’s ten thousand times more satisfying. I only hope that you won’t torture us for too much longer...I know I sound totally ungrateful for saying this, but honestly, I’m beginning to die a bit from deprivation. I really need to see a proper Yorozuya hug soon!

Although what I don’t really need to see ever again is Sadaharu crapping out more naked old men. When he pooped out Gintoki, I had feeling you were making yet another slight dig at yourself and your creation, but you don’t deserve that, Sorachi-sama. Gin-chan doesn’t deserve that, so please, don’t let us see him come out of anything’s orifice ever again—oral or anal—even if the orifice belonged to a creature as adorable as Sadaharu. With all due respect to Sadaharu, it was still very gross. 

But what wasn’t gross and was in fact thoroughly satisfying was watching Utsuro pop off the head of that Tendoshuu old fart like a kid would do to a Barbie doll. I actually guffawed at the sight. Serves him right! I wouldn’t feel bad at all if Utsuro just went around popping off the heads of any remaining Tendoshuu old farts and maybe some of the Naraku while he’s at it. I don’t even know if I want Hitsugi to be spared from that fate since, even though he seems to have had a change of heart, he was still the one who inflicted a lot of injuries on our Sadaharu so, really, off with his head too. 

The thing with Utsuro though...I wonder if your ultimate plan with him is to have him completely erased so that the being we are left with is purely Yoshida Shouyou only. I mean, it would be killing two birds with one stone: granting Utsuro’s wish to be obliterated from existence while also granting Takasugi’s wish to be reunited with his teacher once again. I think Shouyou really is the love of Takasugi’s life. I don’t even mean that in the romantic sense at all, but rather, just as children can be the love of their parents’ lives, parents can also occupy that special place in their childrens’ hearts as well. In thinking about the role and impact Shouyou has in Takasugi’s life, he more than deserves that important designation since the entirety of Takasugi’s existence has literally revolved around his sensei. If there was a way to just revive the Shouyou part of the Utsuro being and wipe away any remnants of the monstrous side of that creature, that really would be the perfect solution to this whole ordeal. Not to mention, I’m sure Takasugi would want nothing more than to retire with his teacher to some countryside and open a new version of Shouka Sonjuku where they could teach a new generation of children how to be honorable people. All this time I’ve been holding on to the idea that death and reuniting with Bansai in the afterlife would be the happy ending Takasugi would want, but I admit I was being rather tunnel-visioned. The truth is, for Takasugi, it probably will always start and end with Shouyou, therefore, his idea of a happy ending would most likely involve him and no one else.  As to how such a feat can be accomplished—keeping Shouyou while erasing Utsuro—of course I have no idea (Car crash? Time machine? Kintoki hypnosis?), but if that is the endgame you have intended for Takasugi and Utsuro/Shouyou, I'm sure you’ll come up with a brilliant plan as usual. Alternatively, I wouldn’t mind seeing Takasugi raise baby Utsu-Shou as a single dad. That would be almost as satisfying as seeing Gintoki raise the kid himself. Naturally I’d be concerned if Takasugi would be able to just nurture the Shouyou side of the kid instead of the Utsuro side as well, but in lieu of their world being destroyed immediately, I guess there’s not many options available.

I hope we will get plenty of notice before the next chapter comes out; that was one killer of a cliffhanger, I can’t wait to see what’s in store next. I will of course have to depend on the mercy of fellow Gintama fans who have access to the app since it doesn’t seem to be available globally yet. But even if I have to wait longer for the new chapter compared to Japanese fans, it’s definitely a small price to pay for new Gintama. Thank you again for continuing onward with Gintama, Sorachi-sama. Thank the Gintama gods for granting my fervent Gintama wishes and prayers. I feel truly, truly blessed as a Gintama devotee.

Yours truly, 

A silly fangirl with yaoi dreams

(^3^) 

[annaisu]

Fractured Sparrow; Chapter 1

Words: 3,081

Summary: An auspicious start to a day in the life of two homeless orphans.

Prologue

The air was cold as usual, but with my sister beside me, there was always some warmth in the world. That being said, the actual fire I was huddling by was quite nice, and I was grateful that Rose and I had gathered enough fuel for several days. It wasn't snowing at the moment, but there were plenty of grey clouds hanging heavy overhead, so that could change at any moment. A slim beam of sunlight slit through the clouds, widening overhead, shedding light into the empty day – and then I felt it.

Splat

What was that? It couldn't be snow, it was too heavy and there was only one dropping – no! I looked up just in time to see some kind of small bird darting away, showing its tail-feathers to me as it left. That was bird poop in my hair.

"Eurgh!" I cried out as I automatically reached up to try and get the crud out. I paid my protesting throat no mind as I scrubbed my hand through my admittedly already dirty hair, trying to get at least the worst of it off. This was nasty! It was hard enough to keep clean in the streets as it was, I didn't need crap in my hair to cap it off!

My sister, alerted by my cries, looked over. "What was that?" I didn't bother trying to answer her, just frantically continued scrubbing at my hair. Gross, gross, gross! It was hard enough to keep clean when living in slum as two homeless kids, I didn't need the help of bird poop! "Oh, yuck!" It seemed like Rose didn't need my help to figure out what was going on, judging by her disgusted exclamation.

Grimacing, I wiped my hands on my slightly less filthy pants, debating whether I wanted dirty gloves or cold-and-wet-but-slightly-less-dirty gloves. With an inaudible sigh, I decided not to risk losing my fingers and gave up getting cleaner as a pipe dream. Instead, I turned back to the fire, and tried to focus on anything other than the mess in my hair. I'd been dirty before, but this was admittedly a new low for me.

"Well... I hear that's lucky, like a four leaf clover." I looked over at Rose, who was trying to stifle a smile at my misfortune. "Although I think I'd prefer the clover!" Her face gave way to a grin, and I ended up smiling back at her. She looked beautiful with a smile on her face, despite her posture huddled against the wind and her threadbare clothes hanging loosely on her frame. We'd come up with a way to tie them tighter so that they wouldn't fall off, but there was no accounting for the missing fabric that left her midriff exposed.

She turned back to the fire, still with that smile on her face, and I found that I didn't mind the poop in my hair anymore – lucky or not. My sister didn't really have much reason to smile, what with our crappy living situation. We were constantly cold and hungry, and we lived in a broken shed surrounded by snow. The Bowerstone Slums, where we lived, had plenty of good folk – but it also was the home of a bunch of riff-raff and scoundrels. We were pretty far from the good life, even though we could picture it just fine in our dreams.

"Look, little Sparrow..." Rose began to speak, and I could already tell what she wanted me to look at from the wistful tone in her voice. I looked up and, yup, she was looking out across the balcony to the giant castle standing tall and proud amidst the grey surroundings. “Castle Fairfax looks so nice in the snow.” Faint hints of snowflakes were starting to fall through the air, lending the castle a shimmering light. The sunrise painted a golden rose glow upon the scene, and it looked as fantastical as any dream.

It was easy to see why my sister was so entranced, but I had never shared the same feelings for the grand building. It seems that for as long as I've known it's name, I haven't liked it one bit. I’d even had nightmares about being inside the building, blurry images of shadowy lights and the sound of my sister screaming haunting my sleep. I tried to speak up and tell Rose about them once, but it looked like it hurt her as much to hear it as it did for me to say it. I never tried again after that, and just let her fantasize whatever she wanted.

"Imagine the grand dining hall," Rose sighed, and I imagined that she was halfway into dreamland rather than reality. I guess her visions were a lot more enjoyable than mine were - for the castle, at least. I had entertained some pretty delightful imaginings of my own often enough to know that my imagination rivaled even my sisters. "I bet Lord Lucien's having roast duck this time of year!" Does duck taste like chicken? Duck was the rich form of chicken, right? ...I'd like some good meat to eat right about now, duck or otherwise.

Rose had moved right on past the food and to the more sympathetic aspect of it – my sister really was incredibly thoughtful. "But he must be really lonely since his wife and little girl died. In that big castle, all by himself..." I couldn't help but imagine it as well – what if his wife and daughter were like two Roses, and he lost them both? And he'd have to walk around in giant, echoing halls, knowing that they'll never be around the next corner, that he'd have to take all of his meals alone, that he could never have hugs or goodnight kisses or quiet moments of happiness with them...

Rose finished up her dream with a sigh. "If only we could live there..." I knew what she was thinking, about being warm and full, of maybe even filling the spaces of loss left behind – on both sides of the family. Our parents had died almost two years ago, now. Rose told me there had been some sort of attack, since I couldn't remember myself.

I... honestly didn't remember anything of my life before we made it to the streets. I don't know if something bad happened, or if I hit my head, or what, but Rose wouldn't tell me. She was willing to tell me stories of our parents, retell the stories they once told her, explain the little adventures we had running around our little village… But she would never tell me about how we lost it all, from my voice to the rest of our family.

Apparently, I used to talk a lot back then. “Chattered away like a proper little Sparrow,” Rose had joked. I could theoretically still talk, but I just knew that I needed to keep my mouth shut or something bad would happen. I was afraid to ask, but I think it was something I said that got our parents killed. I had spoken too much, made too much noise about something, and -

A roar arose from nearby. Rose and I startled, looking over to try and find the cause of the ruckus. We couldn't see anything, but it sounded like fireworks or sparklers were going off! "What is going on over there?" Rose asked, straightening from her position by the fire. "Come with me, little brother!" Trusting me to follow her, she headed off for the source of the commotion.

Doggedly following in her footsteps, I was right beside her when the local creep showed up. "Hello there, young Rose." I crossed my arms over my chest as Rose braced herself. "You look hungry!" At that moment, my stomach decided to contribute by giving a weak little gurgle, but I refused to lessen my defensive posture or acknowledge the unintentional show of weakness. "Have you reconsidered my offer?" I scowled up at the dark clothed man, as always aware of what felt like a grimy aura around him.

Rose refused to tell me what his offer was, but I knew it couldn't be anything good if she turned him down time after time, even when we hadn't managed food several days in a row. Judging by his criminal activities around town and the feeling I got from him, as well as his persistent interest in my sister... well. I thought his offer might be more carnal and personal in nature, and I'd do my best to stop him before he could ever lay a hand on my sister!

"We'll never be that hungry. The answer is 'no'." Rose stated firmly, and I backed her up as best as I could. Admittedly, that wasn't much, but I was ready to fight if Arfur pressed the issue.

Thankfully, the putrid man didn't press farther today. "You'll be back. And I'll be waiting for ya." He slunk back off to the shadows, and I growled low in my throat as Rose firmly turned away.

"Come on, little Sparrow, let's see what's going on." I stayed a careful step behind her, watching as Arfur disappeared out of sight. "That filthy creep... I hate him." I had half a mind to hunt him back down for everything he'd ever done to my sister, but Rose and I had just reached the extremely noisy crowd.

The street opened up into a brightly-lit courtyard, no buildings crowding out the grey sky above. Rose and I stayed to the side, partially covered by the mouth of the street. We would avoid some of the snow falling, and be ready to dash away if things went south. I ended up standing between my sister and a woman in a red robe, who felt oddly familiar.

I studied the stranger rather than whatever the crowd was looking at, trying to figure out why it felt that I should know her. She was facing towards the center of attention, so I could only see her face in profile, but it was enough to see the milky film covering her eyes. She was at least half blind, yet she still stood with such confidence and poise. Her scarlet robes draped around her neatly, hood pulled up to protect her from the snow. I couldn't remember seeing her on these streets before, but she still seemed like someone I should know. Was she from Before, when Rose and I still had parents and before I lost my memories?

A gasp from the crowd startled me into looking away from the familiar stranger and up at the centerpiece, where a blast of flame went bursting into the air! Steam was puffing out of a strange trader's cart, but it was hard to see more than that with the crowd between it and where we stood. "Come one, come all!" a foreign voice cried out.

"Oh, it's just a trader," Rose said in disappointment. It was nice to see new things happening in this dreary place, but we couldn't exactly buy anything. Rose and I were lucky if we had enough money for food – we couldn't afford any exotic goods that a trader would bring. Still, it was fun to see whatever they had to offer, if we ignored the fact that we would never be able to own anything like it… or if we could even see it at all through the crowd. Even though Rose was taller than me, it seemed like she couldn't see either. "I can't see anything past this lot!" she muttered, but neither of us left.

What else was there to go back to? We may as well spend time watching the show, and it was warmer here by the press of bodies than it was at our cold outcropping. The hordes of people surrounding us made me feel uncomfortable and nervous despite the welcome heat they gave off, but as long as we stood at the edge of the crushing press of humanity, I would be fine.

"A-ladies and a-gentleman," the trader started up. "I have traveled the land accumulating wondrous and mysterious objects - which I now offer to you for the modest price of five gold!" I squinted and peered around the guy in front of me, trying to get a glimpse of what was up for sale. It couldn't be anything actually good, for only five gold! Sure, that was more than Rose or I usually saw, but that was still pretty cheap! There was some sort of standing mirror, and vases on shelves, but I couldn't really pick anything else out.

No… there was something else, on the other side of the cart. I couldn't see it very clearly but it was some kind of box or something, and it felt… important. Powerful. Momentous. I shivered, dread and excitement running down my spine.

"Consider this!" The traders voice pulled my attention back to what was before me, and I caught a glimpse of him gesturing at the mirror before the crowd shifted. "This is twuly a magical miwwor. For as long as you look into it, it will make you beautiful!" I covered my eyes in disbelief. For some reason – completely random, I was sure – I doubted that the mirror would work.

"I'll take it!" someone cried out. Well, clearly they had far more faith in that mirror and its magic than I did.

"Vewy wise!" The trader agreed. "Now remember: the magic only works in complete dawkness," he lowered his voice mysteriously. Rose and I let out simultaneous groans, and someone else chuckled under their breath. Ah. That would be the trick to it, then.

The trader – Mungo, judging by the name on his cart – shifted his attention to something else on display. I caught a moment of hesitation before he continued, with less showmanship than before. "Ah, now this is truly a mwavel." He was pointing at the box now, and I felt my breath catch tight in my chest. "This small, unassuming box is actually a device created by the ancients. As used by the Old Kingdom rulers themselves!" For some reason, I could believe him now, where before I had only felt disbelief. "Turn the handle three times, and you shall be granted a single wish!" Why was it I could believe something so fantastical could be true, when I had so easily dismissed the mirror?

Rose didn't seem to quite feel the same. "There's no such thing as magic!" Even then, I still caught her stealing glances at the little music box through the crowd. Could she feel it too?

"We live in grim times indeed, if the young are too world-weary to believe in magic." I looked sharply to my left, shivers starting up again, as the stranger spoke. Theresa, the quiet part of my mind whispered to me. She was facing us now, clouded white eyes staring unnervingly at my sister. There was no way she could see, but Rose was trapped within her empty gaze, subject of her direct attention. "Most children your age believe eagerly."

Rose, never one to be intimidated or back down, stared straight back at her. "Look, I can see your eyes are bad, but I'm telling you – that music box is rubbish." Theresa didn't seem to be offended by my sister's bluntness – rather, she smiled.

"That’s what the seller thinks. He has no idea what he stumbled upon. But you have an inkling, don’t you?" She could feel the power behind it too, couldn't she? And could Rose? My sister wasn't normally so dismissive out of hand – was she trying to deny the draw she felt? "Some part of you wants to believe it’s magic."

Her piece said, Theresa turned and began slowly walking away. Rose took a half step after her, calling out in hushed tones. "What? You…" she faltered, "you really think it could be?" Rose's voice was hushed but hopeful.

Theresa stopped, but didn't turn around. "For five gold coins, you could have your answer."

Rose scoffed. "For five gold coins, we could eat for a week." Rose was a dreamer, but she was practical – life forced her to set aside her dreams for a harsh reality. Yet this time, I didn't think the pull of responsibility would be able to stop the hope of fantastical possibilities.

"Listen to me, Rose: at the end of the week, you and your little Sparrow would be no closer to your dream -- no closer to the inside of that beautiful castle." How could a stranger know these things? Even if she had the same inexplicable knowledge for the names of whoever talked to her like I did, how could she possibly know about Rose's dream? Had she been listening to us earlier?

"Wait!" Rose called out. "Do… do we know you?" Did Rose remember her from Before after all?

This time, Theresa did turn back. "I met you both when your brother was but a toddler, constantly chattering away. Even then, I knew there would be great things ahead for you." Terrible, yes, but great, I quoted quietly to myself, not sure where the words came from. We must have met her back when our parents were still alive, then, if I had actually been talking. "And perhaps we shall meet again once more, young Rose, if the wishes of fate will it."

A feeling of foreboding washed over me as Theresa walked away, even stronger than before. This time, Rose did not call out after her, simply watched her disappear. Once she was gone, Rose turned to face me. "Do you think it could be true? What if it is real?" I nodded slowly, unsure of much, but at least I was pretty sure that there was something special about that music box. "I bet we could get five gold pieces… and maybe this could be a way out of here, after all."

My sister smiled down at me, decided. "What is there to lose, little Sparrow?"

My smile froze and died as she began to walk away, and I knew the answer. I knew the reason behind the foreboding, behind the unnamable fear I could feel in my soul. We had no money, no food, no safe place to stay for the winter, no family or security or warmth – but we had each other. That's what we could lose.

[mygiantesslove]

Christmas Eve at My Cousins Feet

Under her Butt or Beneath her Feet. The Desperate Decision (10)

"I…I didn’t mean your butt Bianca; I meant someplace like your belly button again or back to your feet.  Maybe you’d like to feel me at the back of your knee?”

 "Oh, so Now you want to go to my feet.  Well, That’s, Too, Bad (she shakes her ass on each word).  You said you would go anywhere on my body and my cute butt is the next stop for the munchkin Jake Smith.”

 She brought her hand right over her buttcheeks and tilted her hand so you fell down into her buttcrack.  She looked back and laughed at you stuck in her crack trying to pull yourself out.

 “Hahaha, how pathetic is that Jake?  You’re stuck in the butt of a teenage girl.  You should be lucky I do a lot of squats otherwise there would be a lot more fat to hold you in.  Now it’s time for you to go Deeper.”

Bianca used her index finger to push you in by your head until you were in the middle of her asscheeks.  It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Her cheeks were warm and soft and it didn’t smell like shit like you thought it would but instead like a nice lavender perfume. You stayed still for a minute before Bianca said

 “Why don’t you kiss my ass, Jake.  It can be your way of showing me gratitude for what a nice posterior I have.”

 "There's no way I'm ever going to kiss your rear end, Bianca.  Now how long are you going to keep me in here for?"

 “Probably the whole afternoon unless you Kiss my butt, Jake.  I think I'm letting you have too much of a nice time in there so how bout I do a little dancing until I feel some smooching.”

Bianca put on the new Keisha CD and started to shake her hips and wiggle her backside.  You were slammed up and down and left and right into her buttcheeks until you noticed the faint smell of crap getting stronger.  Bianca noticed this too and said

 “Uh Oh Jake, it seems like your getting closer to my hole.  I better feel those lips on my cheeks soon or the lips of my backdoor will be kissing you ha-ha.”

  She was right; before you knew it Bianca’s ass had sucked you in till you were about 20 feet (Your POV) from the anus of your teenaged cousin.  It was pink, moist and it was pulsating almost as if it was hungry for you. She cleaned the rim of her giant hole well, but when it pulsated it spread out more and you could see some small traces of her feces on the inside of her anal cavity.  Now only ten feet away from her backdoor entrance you tried to move away but her ass continued to suck you in.

 "Bianca please don’t do this I don’t want to get eaten by your asshole. This whole experience is just way too gross for me.”

 “Well Jake if you don’t want to get fed to my butthole as a convenient human snack, then you know what you have to do.”

Jake knew if he was to avoid being her ass's meal then there was no choice left.  in order to avoid her pucker, he would have to pucker up and kiss her ass. Jake planted a small kiss on her left buttcheek. He was now about 5 feet away from touching her disgusting pink hole, but Bianca didn’t do anything so he kept on kissing her asscheeks many times before she finally stopped dancing and he was less than a foot away from the entrance to her large intestine.  But Bianca had one more trick up her sleeve.

 “Let’s see how Jake likes this.”

You watched as Bianca's Sphincter tightened to a small cute button than expanded considerably and let out a burst of hot air that smelled like her poop.  It blew your hair back and you got a little dizzy from the smell and fell forward on her butthole. Instantly grossed out by what you touched, you jumped back and tried to claw your way out her asscrack.

 “Bianca let me out! Let me out, I can’t take this let me out!”

Bianca happy at hearing her cousin's pleas stuck her hand in her ass and pulled out her struggling cousin.

 “Thank you, Bianca, Thank you so much! Please don’t ever put me in there again. Your feet smell so much better than your asshole does.”

 “I'm glad you agree, Jake, but there's one more thing I have to do to you.”

 Bianca threw you on her bed and pulled her green panties down to her ankles. She slapped her own ass and then lowered her derriere on top of your helpless body.  You were being squished by her right buttcheek and the feeling of being butt crushed was actually a lot worse than being stepped on.  Bianca pressed down as hard as she could for 60 minutes while she painted her fingernails white and combed her long brown hair. After applying her makeup to her face and putting some chapstick on her lips, Bianca lifted her booty up and peeled your flattened, pathetic body off of her gluteus maximus.

 “So Jake I hope you realize what the situation here is and what I can do to you if you refuse the opportunity to worship my feet.”

  You don’t say anything because you’re too tired and beaten up to even move your mouth.

 “I’ll take that as a yes for now.  I don’t expect you to have any energy left to massage my feet yet, but for now, I think I’ll just use you as a foot toy, while I lie on my bed, listen to some music, and enjoy the feeling of my slave in my sock.”

 Bianca pulls out a pair of her Xmas socks that were rolled into a ball in her black leather boots.

She unravels them and says “Remember these from last night?  I’ve been wearing these all month Just For You Cuz.”

 She hovers you over the opening to her sock and it’s easily the strongest smell of sweaty feet you’ve ever smelt in your life.  It’s hard to believe that a girl’s foot could make such a pungent fragrance.

Smiling happily Bianca says “Merry Christmas Jake!  I don’t think you’re ever going to forget this day.”

And on that note, she drops you into your sock prison.  Bianca's face disappears from the opening of the tube and the sock is lowered to the ground.   She slides her feet in, puts on her headphones for her iPod and lies on her bed.  She sits back, leans against her headboard and she plays with her new foot toy under her sole while listening to Lady Gaga.

Bianca so far is having the Best Christmas Ever.  The same couldn’t be said for Jake as he realizes he might actually become the footslave to this spoiled, pretty teenage girl.

[toasttdaddy]

100 Questions No One Asks Tag? I Guess?

1. DO YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR CLOSET DOORS OPEN OR CLOSED?

To be honest I don’t really care if its open or not. 

2. DO YOU TAKE THE SHAMPOOS AND CONDITIONER BOTTLES FROM HOTELS?

Yes! 

3. DO YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR SHEETS TUCKED IN OR OUT?

I sleep with blankets scattered on my body, none of them organized whatsoever.

4. HAVE YOU STOLEN A STREET SIGN BEFORE?

Nope.

5. DO YOU LIKE TO USE POST-IT NOTES?

Eh, I’m not sure. I like them, but I prefer my arms to write on. I cant forget my arms somewhere, but I can forget a sticky note.

6. DO YOU CUT OUT COUPONS BUT THEN NEVER USE THEM?

Nope.

7. WOULD YOU RATHER BE ATTACKED BY A BIG BEAR OR A SWARM OF BEES?

A swarm of bees, because bears are afraid of large objects, and run when encountering something large. Im literally a fucking gnome so. 

8. DO YOU HAVE FRECKLES?

A few.

9. DO YOU ALWAYS SMILE FOR PICTURES?

Very rarely. 

10. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST PET PEEVE?

When people chew loudly. Makes me wanna choke them.

11. DO YOU EVER COUNT YOUR STEPS WHEN YOU WALK?

Yes. By 8′s. I think its a dancer thing.

12. HAVE YOU PEED IN THE WOODS?

Nope das gross.

13. HAVE YOU EVER POOPED IN THE WOODS?

Nahhhh.

14. DO YOU EVER DANCE EVEN IF THERES NO MUSIC PLAYING?

25/8

15. DO YOU CHEW YOUR PENS AND PENCILS?

I used to a little bit.

16. HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE YOU SLEPT WITH THIS WEEK?

Zero. I’m only 15. I’m not about that life.

17. WHAT SIZE IS YOUR BED?

I think its a queen or a double? I should know this.

18. WHAT IS YOUR SONG OF THE WEEK?

Would - Alice in Chains

19. IS IT OK FOR GUYS TO WEAR PINK?

Hell yeah! 

20. DO YOU STILL WATCH CARTOONS?

Nope. I never did. I had no childhood.

21. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE MOVIE?

Probably the Percy Jackson movies. They’re not accurate to the book at all.

22. WHERE WOULD YOU BURY HIDDEN TREASURE IF YOU HAD SOME?

I would bury the treasure in a giant pile of legwarmers.

23. WHAT DO YOU DRINK WITH DINNER?

Either milk or water.

24. WHAT DO YOU DIP A CHICKEN NUGGET IN?

Sriracha or ketchup.

25. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FOOD?

Black beans and rice.

26. WHAT MOVIES COULD YOU WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND STILL LOVE?

Harry Potter

27. LAST PERSON YOU KISSED/KISSED YOU?

HAH. No one. 

28. WERE YOU EVER A BOY/GIRL SCOUT?

Nope.

29. WOULD YOU EVER STRIP OR POSE NUDE IN A MAGAZINE?

Depends on if people will see my face, and how much photoshop is being used. I hate myself lol.

30. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WROTE A LETTER TO SOMEONE ON PAPER?

Probably uh... Shit I don’t think I’ve ever done that.

31. CAN YOU CHANGE THE OIL ON A CAR?

Nope.

32. EVER GOTTEN A SPEEDING TICKET?

Can’t drive.

33. EVER RAN OUT OF GAS?

If I can’t drive, I can’t run out of gas.

34. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE KIND OF SANDWICH?

Peanut butter and banana.

35. BEST THING TO EAT FOR BREAKFAST?

Cereal. Of any kind. I actually love Raisin Bran. Don’t shoot me for saying that please.

36. WHAT IS YOUR USUAL BEDTIME?

Sometime between 10 and 11.

37. ARE YOU LAZY?

Hmm. I dunno. The other day I laid on the floor for an hour. So Yeah. Very,

38. WHEN YOU WERE A KID, WHAT DID YOU DRESS UP AS FOR HALLOWEEN?

I still am a kid. Lets see, I was: A bat princess, a troll, a vampire, a fallen angel, princess belle, a monster high doll, a leopard, a skeleton, and an ewok. Probably more but I can’t remember.

39. WHAT IS YOUR CHINESE ASTROLOGICAL SIGN?

I think this means this thing? I’m a Leo.

40. HOW MANY LANGUAGES CAN YOU SPEAK?

A grand total of 1.

41. DO YOU HAVE ANY MAGAZINE SUBSCRIPTIONS?

Nope.

42. WHICH ARE BETTER: LEGOS OR LINCOLN LOGS?

Lincoln Logs

43. ARE YOU STUBBORN?

Not really. I just kinda go with what happens because I have too much anxiety to force my opinions.

44. WHO IS BETTER: LENO OR LETTERMAN?

Whomst?

45. EVER WATCH SOAP OPERAS?

Nope.

46. ARE YOU AFRAID OF HEIGHTS?

Nope.

47. DO YOU SING IN THE CAR?

Yeah boi.

48. DO YOU SING IN THE SHOWER?

Definitely.

49. DO YOU DANCE IN THE CAR?

Ye.

50. EVER USED A GUN?

No.

51. LAST TIME YOU GOT A PORTRAIT TAKEN BY A PHOTOGRAPHER?

School pictures.

52. DO YOU THINK MUSICALS ARE CHEESY?

Usually.

53. IS CHRISTMAS STRESSFUL?

Nope.

54. EVER EAT A PIEROGI?

Yep.

55. FAVORITE TYPE OF FRUIT PIE?

Apple pie my dooods.

56. OCCUPATIONS YOU WANTED TO BE WHEN YOU WERE A KID?

Veterinarian, Teacher, Archaeologist, and a Scientist.

57. DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS?

Yep.

58. EVER HAVE A DEJA-VU FEELING?

Yeah its spooky.

59. DO YOU TAKE A VITAMIN DAILY?

I used to but I gave up.

60. DO YOU WEAR SLIPPERS?

No

61. DO YOU WEAR A BATH ROBE?

No

62. WHAT DO YOU WEAR TO BED?

Sweatpants and a tank top with a sweatshirt if I’m cold. If I’m not, just underwear.

63. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CONCERT?

Still haven’t gotten to one yet.

64. WALMART, TARGET, OR KMART?

Target.

65. NIKE OR ADIDAS?

Nike.

66. CHEETOS OR FRITOS?

Cheetos bitch. Fritos only work when youre eating chili with them.

67. PEANUTS OR SUNFLOWER SEEDS?

Peanuts

68. EVER HEAR OF THE GROUP TRES BIEN?

Nope

69. EVER TAKE DANCE LESSONS?

For the past 12 years.

70. IS THERE A PROFESSION YOU PICTURE YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE DOING?

Not really tbh.

71. CAN YOU CURL YOUR TONGUE?

Ye

72. EVER WON A SPELLING BEE?

Nope. Almost got into the finals of one but I fucked up spelling foreign.

73. HAVE YOU EVER CRIED BECAUSE YOU WERE SO HAPPY?

Yes.

74. OWN ANY RECORD ALBUMS?

Nah.

75. OWN A RECORD PLAYER?

Noperoni.

76. DO YOU REGULARLY BURN INCENSE?

Nope.

77. EVER BEEN IN LOVE?

Yep. Right now. Its amazing. 

78. WHO WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE IN CONCERT?

Alice in Chains or Shinedown.

79. WHAT WAS THE LAST CONCERT YOU SAW?

The school chorus in 8th grade.

80. HOT TEA OR COLD TEA?

Cold tea.

81. TEA OR COFFEE?

Coffee

82. SUGAR COOKIES OR SNICKERDOODLES?

Sugar Cookies

83. CAN YOU SWIM WELL?

Kind of?

84. CAN YOU HOLD YOUR BREATH WITHOUT HOLDING YOUR NOSE?

Yeah, unless im doing a flip or jumping into a pool.

85. ARE YOU PATIENT?

Mildly.

86. DJ OR BAND AT A WEDDING?

Uhhhhh I guess a band, but thats most likely expensive af.

87. EVER WON A CONTEST?

Yeah. It was limbo. 

88. HAVE YOU EVER HAD PLASTIC SURGERY?

Nope.

89. WHICH ARE BETTER: BLACK OR GREEN OLIVES?

I fucking hate olives.

90. CAN YOU KNIT OR CROCHET?

I can finger knit small tubes... That’s all.

91. BEST ROOM FOR A FIREPLACE?

Living room or bedroom. 

92. DO YOU WANT TO GET MARRIED?

Yeah boi.

93. IF MARRIED, HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN MARRIED?

Nah.

94. WHO WAS YOUR HIGH SCHOOL CRUSH?

@spacekidkade

95. DO YOU CRY AND THROW A FIT UNTIL YOU GET YOUR OWN WAY?

Nope.

96. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?

Nope.

97. DO YOU WANT KIDS?

Tbh I’d rather have dogs. 

98. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOR?

Deep purple.

99. DO YOU MISS ANYONE RIGHT NOW?

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm I dont think so no. If so i’ve repressed it.

100. WHO ARE YOU GOING TO TAG TO DO THIS TAG NEXT? 

@spacekidkade because why the FUCK not?

[yamithediaperdork]

It’s a small world after all (Harry potter)

It's a small world after all

Not for the first time since hooking up with potter, Malfoy found himself wondering if the brunette's deep pockets and wonderful vigor under the covers really was worth some of the messed up things he was into. because really, Draco handled the first few kinks with ease. who didn't like a good paddling now and then? and a nice big enema could be fun and do wonders for your bowels! But then it started to get odder and odder and what should of been giant red flags were just ignored when they realllly shouldn't of been. Hence why today Draco found himself shrunk down to the size of a shrimpy 8 year old..and dressed like a 1 year old. He was in black and green light up sneakers, with green socks and then a SHORT pair of black shorts with green trim on the waist and legs,that puffed out from padding Draco was wearing under them, and the shorts had a teddy bear with a green Mohawk on either side. The t-shirt had the same bear on it, but the T-shirt was green with black trim on the waist, neck and sleeves and had the bear saying 'rock on all my little buddies!' as it was apparently a charter from some local baby show called teddy rocks. His blond hair had been grown the cut and fashioned into a mushroom cut and all and all he was less the happy.

"Your a git, you know that right?" Draco asked harry as they walked from the parking lot towards the green grass of the park. "I know I know..but a lovable git who's going to spoil you SO much..as long as your a good boy today." Harry said as now on the green, they headed for the play structures. "oh why wouldn't I be a good boy? I'm only a 24 year old man the size of a 8 year old and dressed like a 2 year old. why would I be in a mood to cause chaos and torment?" Draco huffed and chuckled, having some veryyyy evil plans. step one, find a group of preschooler and tell them the truth about saint nick. step two would be tel- "Right about that. if your a total pain in the ass BRAT, We'll be coming back here tomorrow, with you normal sized and WISHING you had something as mature and cool as that outfit on." Harry said, interrupting Draco's train of thought. '..DAMN IT!' Draco whined mentally. "I was never really gonna do anything." Draco lied out loud and Harry just smirked. "well I suppose it's not a lie if you behave." He said, picking out a picnic table for him to sit at and read, and before taking his book out of the diaper bag he'd brought, he took out a plastic pail and shovel and pointed over to where he wanted Draco to play first: the sandbox. Draco rolled his eyes but his was not to argue in this case, at least till Harry whistled and got the attention of all the other parents and kids around and waved Draco back over. before with everyone all distracted, ignoring him he hadn't worried so much about how much his diaper showed/crinkled, but now with all eyes on him.. Draco was red faced and whining as he got over to Harry. "Now now, none of that. this is what YOU'VE been begging ME for for a month.. no take backies little man. and you almost forgot your paci." Harry said and then clipped a green and black paci to Draco's chest and then popped the nipple in Draco's mouth, kissing red faced boys burning forehead. "Love you little guy." Harry said and then turned Draco around and with a firm pat or too on the tush sent the blond towards the sandbox.

Naturally the other parents wanted to know what was going on, why was Harry's son in diapers and all that jazz. Making use of the fact that there were all muggles and a charm to enhance well..his charms, Harry had them buying every line of the bullshit story he was coming up with on the spot. "So yeah, about month and a half ago I come home and there's my so called big boy who whined to be allowed to stay home without a baby sitter..and he's wearing a homemade diaper made out of towels safety pins and a prayer." Harry was saying.  "Little Draco looks up at me and squeaks out 'daddy!' and then the laxatives he'd taken combined with the shock..welll yeah. " the other parents chuckled and nodded. "So getting him all cleaned up, we have a talk and he says he misses being treated like a little guy and wanted the full experience..which included this trip to the park..Among a few other things." Harry said.

Draco glared over at Potter and while he couldn't make out what was being said, he was positive 90 percent of it was bullshit. His own reception at the sandbox had not been as fun, with two 5 year olds that at his current size looked semi fordable, blocked his entrance. "Sorry, ya gotta be potty trained ta get in here." Said the left boy, with dirty blond hair. "mmmfffh mm fffmmm." Draco protested around his paci. he knew from experience that removing it on his own was a bigggg nay nay. "pffft, what are you trying to say diaper boy?" the other kid asked, a brown haired boy who reached and tugged the paci out of Draco's mouth. "Phleg..I said I AM potty trained!" Draco huffed. "Right..mister massive pampers and a dummy is potty trained. Blond said, rolling his eyes. "I-I'm not diapered!" Draco lied. for some reason suddenly it felt super important to get into the sand box. "I-I just have a MASSIVE butt!" the younger boys exchanged a look, but just because they were young that didn't mean they were stupid. "Alright dummy boy, we'll give you a chance to prove your claim. drop your shorts." Brown said. "I..What!?!" Draco yelped, wetting himself a little. "You heard him. if your NOT a diaper wearing baby then you'll be in undies. So drop your shorts and show us!" the Blond said and then moved in. "or we could take'em ourselfs." "N-No! wait It's ok! I don't need to play in th-" Draco yelped and turned away to waddle back to Harry when he felt the waistline on his shorts being grabbed by two sets surprisingly strong hands.One pair went to the left and one pair to the right and the poor shorts that had been struggling to maintain the bulk of Draco's diaper ripped wide open. Now everyone on the playground could see the sesame street print diapers Draco was wearing, and watch as Big bird, cookie monster and others faded from the front. "Bobby Micheal Landrew!" Roared a blond lady. Ike James Jone!" Added in a brunette. the five year olds  went from looking happy and high fiving, having been about to torment the diaper baby but then heard their mothers voices. "run?" Bobby asked. "Run."  Ike agreed and so they did, though were caught in short order. All of this was a back round blur to Draco as with his nappy on display and the laughs and giggles coming up he could feel his bowels kicking into over drive. 'N-Not here..not now....' Draco thought, seeing people come into focus as he henched over and let out a loud fart. "Is he going to.." Came a girls voice. "Bwhahahaha what a loser!" "gross big baby." "Poor kid, " all this and more filled Draco's head and as a large load started to fill the back of his diapers he threw back his head to bawl for daddy, but harry was already there, hugging him.

"Shhh it's ok." Harry coo'ed. He was still waiting on Draco to finish loading his diaper., be a little more stable before he moved him for for his diaper change. "I'm pooping my diapie." Draco whimpered and whined, hugging Harry and burying his face in Harry's shoulder. "well I didn't think you smelled like this all the time." Harry joked and got a small chuckle out of Draco. "your not funny." Draco said and sniffled and rubbed a eye, looking like any other upset little boy coming around, trying to keep a pouty face but flashing toothy grins instead. "Well Humor is tricky like that. Ready for me to move you little guy?" Harry asked. Draco bit his lip and looked over his shoulder at the massive load he'd made, the diaper was sagging big time, and gulped. "Is it even gonna stay ON till we get back to the car?" Draco asked. "welll good news and bad news on that front." Harry said, having already figured out what was just dawning on Draco. "Bad news, no it won't hold up till the car. Good news: it'll hold up till we get to the picnic table." He went quiet to let that sink in and watched Draco's face. confusion played on it at first, then slowly a dawning, ..there we go he figured it out and then a even worse all face red blush took over and Draco yelled. "YOU ARE -NOT- CHANGING ME IN PUBLIC,ON THAT TABLE! YOUR JUST NOT!" As he yelled and huff, stomping a foot Harry had to bite his touge to keep from laughing. the other adults and kids didn't have to be that polite so the park filled with the sound of laughter again as Draco glare and huffed, stomping his feet as he screamed at everyone to stop laughing at him. harry noticed one of Draco's shoelaces had come undone and went to yell out a warning but it was too late. tripping forward Draco showed a amazing amount of agility to turn it into a roll of sorts and ended up sitting on his squishy butt, mouth open and eye twitching. "I-I shoulda..taken..the blow to the noggin." He whined and conked out from humiliation overload.

Draco woke up and rubbed his eyes, then slowly opened them. "Man, Ron you would not believe the nightmare i-" Was what Draco was trying to say but as he got his eyes opened he realized he was looking up at the sky..at the park. which meant that his horrible humiliating nightmare wasn't a nightmare, it had really happened!!! Looking around he noticed there were a lot of the other parents semi surrounding the table though some of the older kids were there too. 'what are they..' Draco wondered then it dawned on him. 'Of course, they're making a human wall so no one can just walk by and see my junk..' with that grim reminder Draco sat up some to look down, realizing he had his paci in his mouth. "Hey sleep head, we're just about done. I was starting to think you were gonna waste the rest of the day in sleepy town." Harry coo'ed. "mmmffh mmk."Was Draco's witty reply. with Draco all cleaned up and the two boys who had made him basically mess forced to carry the dirty diaper to the furthest away trash can,It was time for Draco's next diaper. His junk had been on display for a little longer then he was comfortable with (and that was a clock that only went at micro seconds) and as a breeze blew over the lunch table Draco's little nub twitched once..twice.. then a spurt of pee came out and Harry BARELY ducked out of the way. "Knew I should of brought the pee guard." Harry chuckled and Draco whined and wiggled. spotting a stuffie not that far away Draco snagged the stuffed bear and put it over his face to hide. "Aww it's ok little guy. happens to big babies like you. at least you didn't hit anyone." Harry coo'ed and rubed Draco's tummy. 'not helping!' Draco thought though that was somewhat of a lie. the tummy rubs felt nice.

With Draco re-diapered and it being somewhat MORE bulky then the las, He was forced to full on toddle like a 1 year old while trying to go anywhere in the park. This meant he'd take all of 7-10 steps, slowly, arms out for balance and ended up plopping on his butt while the crowd watched and chuckled. ALSO super not helping was the fact that harry had decided since everyone had seen Draco's diapers, why bother with the spare shorts to cover them up? when Draco when to polity (Read: Have a fit) over this and demanded cover, Harry had held up a skirt and Draco shut up fast. After falling on his butt for the 20th time Draco just stayed there, sitting on the grass and arms crossed while Harry and the parents laughed..and the other kids didn't exactly hold back either. "Awww what's wrong buddy?" "Done falling on my butt!" Draco huffed and pouted, then pointed to the sand box. "Carry me!" this, while meant to show everyone Draco wasn't a roll over and Harry was his bitch..instead got MORE laughter as Harry signed. "Well I suppose." he teased and lifted Draco up and carried him over. After setting him down in the sandbox and making sure Draco was good, Harry decided to stay with him to make sure that no more bullies came over.

Draco was blushing, fuming and mad, but as he played in the sandbox he felt all of that just drifting away as he lost himself in the fun. Making sand castles and showing them off to harry he really did feel like a little boy more then once. Including when anther boy, a 6 year old who had a pull up sticking out of the top of his shorts asked if he could join in. For the next few hours the pair of not quite potty trained boys took over the sandbox with Harry and the boys dad hitting it off and the only break being for juice boxes and cookies.

The only downside for Harry as Draco made a big baby buddy was while Tyler and his dad were nice, there was a whollle park he had wanted Draco to explore. Still with Draco in a natural little mode Harry couldn't break himself to break it up and there WAS always tomorrow anyhow. "Draco buddy, time to go." Harry called as the sky was turning orange in the evening. Draco naturally, pretended not to hear him and kept playing with the dino's that Tyler had brought to the sandbox. "Draco Malfoy Potter, I'm speaking to you." Harry said again. in the sandbox Tyler was trying to get Draco's attention, apparently it going over the kids head Draco was ignoring him on purpose. Tyler's dad was watching in amusement. "Draco unless you wanna be my little baby girl for the rest of the summer, out of that sand box now." Harry said and fought back a laugh at how Draco froze hearing that and then there was a puff of loose sand going up from a muffled fart. "Uhhh Tyler it was nice meeting you, I think it's time for me and daddy to go home." Draco said quickly and turned to waddle out of the sand box only to plop back on his butt. between the girth of it before, multiple wetting and the sand that had ended up in the diaper, Draco was helpless! "D-Daddy! Help!" Draco whined. '...that's in, I'm never letting him be big again. too damn cute.' Harry thought and came over, picking Draco up hands under his shoulders and eyes flashing. Just like that Draco's face scrunched up and his bowels went into over drive as he was there in Harry's arms. "A-Ah Daddy daddy I'm gonna-" Draco tried to yell out a warning but instead let out a massive loud fart that echoed and then with Tyler and his dad getting a good view, filled his diaper with massive lumps, crying out and gasping as they made their way out. "You're gonna what?" Harry asked, laughing and pulling the smelly boy in. Draco glared and went to answer but his paci was popped back into his mouth. "I know what your doing silly. too bad I got to bring any changes with me beyond that first one." Harry lied. "You'll just have to ride home stinky..of do you wanna stop for a happy meal on the way home?" Harry was asking now, heading for the car and bouncing Draco on his hip now. "...Want nuggets n fries." Draco mewed. "Good boy~"

The end

[phangirlof]

Rose Colored Boy

Description: winwin is too precious and pure for this world.

Genre: fluffy fluff

Pairing: Dong Sicheng x reader

Word Count: 1.3k

    “Two ice cream cones please.” Sicheng smiled at the old lady. His smile made you feel warm inside despite standing in front of an ice cream truck. “Coming right up!” She said,  returning a bright smile of her own. Sicheng wrapped his arm around you and you rested your head-on his shoulder while you waited. “I still can’t believe it.” He said, ending the once peaceful quiet. “Believe what babe? ” You asked. “That someone as beautiful as you could have ever fallen for me.” You felt your cheeks heat up at the comment. Sicheng had a habit of being incredibly sweet at any given moment even though you guys had almost been dating a year. “I think the same thing everyday.“ You said, smiling a cheeky smile and planting a quick kiss on his cheek.  

“No way! ” he said,  dismissing your statement with a small, bubbly laugh.  “Yes way.” you grabbed the cones from the short woman when she returned with them. Sicheng pulled out a couple dollars from his pocket and paid the small fee. He wrapped his arm around you once again and you picked up the conversation right where you had left off. “You’re easily the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” Sicheng chuckled. “I beg to differ.”He said,  leading the way into town. You handed him his cone and took a lick off your own. “You can’t disagree with me on this one. I’m fortunate enough to have the luxury of staring at your gorgeous face all day on. It’s quite a sight.” Sicheng was somehow already half way down. His face was buried within the ice cream as if it was the best thing he’d ever ever had. When he finally came up for air, there was a strip of ice cream on his nose. You giggled as he continued I’ve it wasn’t even there. “Well,  I’m blessed enough to the sight of you in the early mornings before even the birds are awake. You always look so soft and gentle, oh and peaceful,  while you sleep. Now that is a sight to see.”He said. You let out a fake gasp and dramatically held a hand to your heart,  “Dong Sicheng, you watch me while I sleep?” “For like ten minutes in the morning, not throughout the night.”

You side stepped away from him, creating a space between your bodies that hadn’t been there before. “Creepy.” You said in a playful singsong voice. “Shut up, you’re the creepy one.” He accused. You’d just now finished the top part of your cone. “How am I the creepy one?” “You sneak into my house and into my bed in the middle of the night. Every night.” You sighed. “You got me there, but in my defense I get lonely in my bed alone. Not to mention I don’t want to sleep without you.” a blush spread across your cheeks as you spoke. Sicheng only smiled and closed the gap once again. “Y/n?” When you looked at him the collection of ice cream had spread from his nose to around his mouth. “Hmm?” You hummed curiously. “I love you.” “I love you too.  Also you got a little something right here… and here.”You proceeded to lick the ice cream off his face. “AH!“ Sicheng swatted at his face with his sleeves. “You’re special gross!” He whimpered, not dropping his hands back to his sides until he was sure there wasn’t a trace of your saliva left. You walked on, passing a few stores and eating your ice cream as if nothing had even happened although behind you all you could hear was Sicheng’s whines. “Licking my face is sooooo weird, but you still do it.”

“We make out all the time and you seem to enjoy that, it’s basically the same thing.” You shrugged casually.  This wasn’t the first time you guys have had this conversation. “Totally not the same thing. That involves lips and tongues, this involves your tongue and my face. So not the same thing.” “I mean you like it when my tongue is involved with yo-,” Sicheng interrupted you before you could finish. “Hey, we are in public where there are children,” He cut himself off with a gasp. You carried on the way to the movie theater while finishing off the last bit of your cone. That was until Sicheng ran over to you and pulled you back to whatever had grabbed his attention. “BABE! PET STORE! CAN WE PRETTY PLEASE LOOK AROUND??” He screamed excitedly. He was already bouncing up and down even though you hadn’t given him an answer yet. “But we’ll be late for the movie.” You reminded him of your original plans for the rest of the evening. “I know, but pleaseeee?” He begged, tugging at your arms trying to bring you closer to the pet store. “Fine, five minutes. That’s all we’re staying.”

Sicheng squealed happily and made a mad dash inside before you could even blink. He’s so cute. You reached for the door handle and entered, acknowledging the fact that you’d already lost your boyfriend without two minutes even passing.You walked past cages upon cages of animals. Some were short and fluffy. Others were long and scaly. There were all types of animals in the shop that you saw on a daily basis, and a few others you didn’t. Eventually you found Sicheng in the very back, sitting in a puppy pen. “Y/n! Look at them! They’re all so adorable! This white one is Cherry blossom, he was found under a cherry blossom tree, the spotted one is Daisy, the black and white one is Panda, and the brown one is Mudball. Whenever they find a new puppy they hold a competition between the local children which decides who gets to name it. Isn’t that cool?!” He beamed, relaying to you all the information of the signs hung up around the pen while trying to cuddle and pet all the puppies at once. You checked the time on your phone. “Yes, they’re all adorable now come on so we don’t miss the movie.” “Babygirl.” He whinned. “Look the store close soon anyway, so come on.” You attempted to to drag him up off the floor. “Y/n.” He hurriedly stood up, brushing himself off with all playfulness gone from his face. “Let’s get a puppy.” He deadpanned.

You shook your head, taken back by his bluntness. “Taking care of a puppy requires a lot work. It’s like baby with fur. I think we should wait a while. Now come on.” You motioned for him to follow you, but obviously he wasn’t going to listen. Sicheng reached down and picked up the black and white puppy, it was smallest of the four. “Look Panda in her eyes and tell her she’s not getting a safe and loving home tonight and she’ll probably be stuck here for a few more months.” Sicheng said, guilt tripping you. “Fine! Get the dog some toys, food, and a bed, I’ll go talk to someone who works here.” You huffed, giving into his wishes. “Yay!” He ran off to find everything you’d told him, dog in hand and all.

A few hours later, you, Sicheng, and Panda were settling in for the night. Once you’d gotten home, you and Sicheng had spent about an hour puppy-proofing his apartment, putting everything away that you guys didn’t want Panda to chew and destroy. This also meant you were moving things out of Panda’s reach while Sicheng played with her. However right now she was curled up between you two. “See isn’t having a puppy better than going to some movie?” Sicheng whispered. You nodded. “Yeah but when Panda poops in the floor you’re the one that has to clean it up.” “Alright fine.” He sighed, voice reigning fake sadness.

“Goodnight Y/n.”

“Goodnight baby.”

Masterlist

[patriotsnet]

Did Republicans Riot After Obama Was Elected

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/did-republicans-riot-after-obama-was-elected/

Did Republicans Riot After Obama Was Elected

Undocumented Kids Are Saved By Obamas Executive Order Daca Which Would Put A Halt To Deportation For Those Whod Entered The Country Before Age 16 And Yet In A Bid To Get The Gop To Come Over To His Side On Immigration Reform The President Has Also Deported A Record 15 Million People In His First Term

A Family Caught in Immigration Limbo

When Belsy Garcia saw her mother’s number appear on her iPhone on the afternoon of June 15, she felt what she calls the “uncomfortable fluttering” sensation in her chest. She knew that daytime calls signaled an emergency. The worst one had come the previous year, when her sister told her ICE agents had placed their father in federal custody.

Garcia was attending Mercer University in Macon, Georgia, when her father was marched out of her childhood home. As an undocumented immigrant — like both of her parents, who are from Guatemala — she couldn’t qualify for loans. She financed her ­education through scholarships and a stipend she earned as a residential assistant. Now she wondered if her mother was calling to say her father had been deported, which might force her to leave school to become the family’s breadwinner.

But this call was different. “Go turn on the television,” Garcia’s mother said. “You’re going to be able to work, get a driver’s license.”

Onscreen, President Obama was announcing the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program. Undocumented immigrants who had arrived in the United States as children could apply for Social Security numbers and work permits. Garcia qualified: Her parents had brought her to this country when she was 7 years old. DACA transformed her into a premed student who could actually become a doctor. “It was like this weight was lifted,” she says. “All of that hard work was going to pay off.”

In The Next Hundred Days Our Bipartisan Outreach Will Be So Successful That Even John Boehner Will Consider Becoming A Democrat After All We Have A Lot In Common He Is A Person Of Color Although Not A Color That Appears In The Natural World Whats Up John Barack Obama White House Correspondents Dinner

And Then There Were Three

The first woman to argue a case before the Supreme Court did so in 1880. It would take another 101 years for a woman to sit on that bench rather than stand before it. Even then, progress was fitful. Over the 12 years that Sandra Day O’Connor and Ruth Bader Ginsburg served together, their identities evidently merged; lawyers regularly addressed Ginsburg as “Justice O’Connor.” When O’Connor retired in 2006, she left the faux Justice O’Connor feeling lonely. Ruth Bader Ginsburg warned of something far more alarming: What the public saw on entering the court were “eight men of a certain size, and then this little woman sitting to the side.” They might well represent the most eminent legal minds in America. But there was something antiquated, practically mutton-choppy, about that portrait.

How many female justices would be sufficient? Nine, says Justice Ginsburg, noting that no one ever raised an eyebrow at the idea of nine men.

Seal Team Six Kills Osama Bin Ladenraiding His Secret Compound In Abbottabad Pakistan While Obama And His Top Advisers Watch A Live Feed Of The Mission From The White House Situation Room The Picture Of The Assembled Becomes The Last Supper Of The Obama Era

Poop Feminism

For me, it’s one moment. All the bridesmaids have come to the fancy bridal shop to see Maya Rudolph try on wedding dresses. This should be a familiar scene: The bride emerges from the changing room and … This is the dress! The friends clap. The mother cries. Everyone is a princess. Go ahead and twirl!

But when the bride emerges in Bridesmaids, almost all of her friends have started to feel sick. Sweat coats their skin. Red splotches creep over their faces. They try to “ooh” and “aah,” but it’s already too late. It starts with a gag from Melissa McCarthy, followed by another gag. Then a gag that comes simultaneously with a tiny wet fart. It’s the smallness of the fart that’s important here. It’s the kind of fart that slips out — a fart that could be excused away, a brief, incongruous accident. Women don’t fart in wedding movies, and women certainly don’t fart at the exact moment that the bride comes out in her dress. This can’t be happening. ­Melissa McCarthy blames the fart on the tightness of her dress. We breathe a sigh of relief.

Then sweet Ellie Kemper gags, and the sound effect is surprisingly nasty. Ellie’s face is gray. Melissa’s face is red. They look bad. They are embarrassed. How far is this going to go?

The camera cuts. We are above now. We look down from a safe perch as the release we have been anticipating and dreading begins. It is horribly, earth-­shatteringly gross. A woman has just pooped in a sink. The revolution has begun.

The Government Acquires A 61 Percent Stake In Gm And Loans The Company $50 Billion The Auto Bailout Will Eventually Be Heralded As A Great Success Adding More Than 250000 Manufacturing Jobs To The Economy

The Auto Industry Gets Rerouted

“The president was very clear with us that he only wanted to do stuff that would fundamentally change the way they did business. And that’s what we did. There were enormous changes. For example, General Motors had something like 300 different job classifications that the union had. If you were assigned to put the windshield wipers on, you couldn’t put tires on. And we wiped all that stuff out. We basically gave back management the freedom to manage, to hire, to fire. People stopped getting paid even when they were on layoff. We reduced the number of car plants so that there wasn’t so much overcapacity. So now, when you have 16 million cars sold , they’re making a fortune.”

Black Lives Matter Activists Are Arrested In Baton Rouge Louisianaprotesting The Murder Of Alton Sterling; More Than 100 People Are Detained In St Paul Minnesota Protesting The Murder Of Philando Castile

What Is the Point of a Quantified Self?

Melissa Dahl: The Fitbit was introduced at a tech conference eight years ago. It’s kind of incredible to realize that, before then, this idea of the “quantified self” didn’t really exist in the mainstream.

Jesse Singal: I feel like it’s the intersection of all these different trends: Everyone plays video games these days. You got smartphones everywhere. And people are realizing that solutions to the big problems that lead to sleeplessness and anxiety and bad eating — unemployment and income inequality and yada yada yada — aren’t gonna get solved anytime soon.

MD: That’s interesting, because all of this self-tracking is also, according to some physicians, giving people more anxiety! A Fitbit-induced stress vortex.

Cari Romm: It feels like productive stress, though. I’m talking as a recovered Fitbit obsessive, but it does make you look at Fitbit-less people like, “You mean you don’t care how many steps you took today?”

MD: Oh, God. I don’t care. Should I care? Sleep is the one thing I obsessed over for a while. Which does not really help one get to sleep.

JS: Do you think an actually good and not obsession-­inducing sleep app could help, though?

MD: There’s some aspect to the tracking idea that really does work. I mean, it’s just a higher-tech version of a food journal or sleep journal, right? Ben Franklin 300 years ago was tracking his 13 “personal virtues” in his diary.

JS: Would Ben Franklin have been an insufferable tech-bro?

Officer Darren Wilson Fatally Shoots Michael Brownin The St Louis Suburb Of Ferguson Sparking A National Protest Movement And Setting Off Unrest That Will Remain Unresolved Two Years Later

On the Triumph of Black Culture in the Age of Police Shootings

In the two years since Mike Brown was fatally shot by the police in Ferguson, and the video footage of his dead body in the street went viral, we have seen the emergence of a perverse dichotomy on our screens and in our public discourse: irrefutable evidence of grotesquely persistent racism, and irrefutable evidence of increasing black cultural and political power. This paradox is not entirely new, of course — America was built on a narrative of white supremacy, and black Americans have simultaneously continued to make vast and essential contributions to the country’s prominence—but it has become especially pronounced. And it’s not just because of the internet and social media, or the leftward shift of the culture, or black America’s being sick and tired of being sick and tired. In fact, it is all of these things, not least two terms with a black president. In the same way that black skin signals danger to the police , his black skin, to black people, signaled black cultural preservation. African-Americans didn’t see a black man as the most powerful leader in the free world; we saw the most powerful leader in the free world as black. This is what comedian Larry Wilmore was expressing at the 2016 White House Correspondents’ Dinner when he said, “Yo, Barry, you did it, my nigga.” It was a moment of unadulterated black pride.

Militants Attack American Compounds In Benghazi Libya Killing Us Ambassador Chris Stevens And Three Other Americans There Will Eventually Be Eight Congressional Probes Into The Incident

“I Know I Let Everybody Down”

“Before the debate, David Plouffe and I went in to talk to him and give him a pep talk and he said, ‘Let’s just get this over with and get out of here,’ which is not what you want to hear from your candidate right before the debate. We knew within ten minutes that it was going to be a ­debacle. We had armed him with a joke — it was his 20th anniversary, and he addressed Michelle — and it turns out Romney was expecting just such a line and had a really great comeback. And Romney was excellent — just free and easy and clearly well prepared and showed personality that people hadn’t seen before. Obama looked like he was at a press conference.

We had a meeting at the White House and he said, ‘I know I let everybody down and that’s on me, and I’m not going to let that happen again,’ and that was his attitude. We always had debate camps before, where we’d re-create in hotel ballrooms what the set would look like, and all of the conditions of the real debate. When we went down to Williamsburg, Virginia, for the next debate camp, he seemed really eager to engage in the prep. We had a decent first night. That was on Saturday. On Sunday night, Kerry, playing Romney, got a little more aggressive and Obama a little less so; it looked very much like what we had seen in Denver. It was like he’d taken a step back.

Scott Brown Is Elected Massachusetts Senatorturning Ted Kennedys Seat Republican For The First Time Since 1952 And Suddenly Throwing The Prospect Of Passing Obamacare Into Jeopardy

Plan B

“I’m talking to Rahm and Jim Messina and saying, ‘Okay, explain to me how this happened.’ It was at that point that I learned that our candidate, Martha Coakley, had asked rhetorically, ‘What should I do, stand in front of Fenway and shake hands with voters?’ And we figured that wasn’t a good bellwether of how things might go.

This might have been a day or two before the election, but the point is: There is no doubt that we did not stay on top of that the way we needed to. This underscored a failing in my first year, which was the sort of perverse faith in good policy leading to good politics. I’ll cut myself some slack — we had a lot to do, and every day we were thinking, Are the banks going to collapse? Is the auto industry going to collapse? Will layoffs accelerate? We just didn’t pay a lot of attention to politics that first year, and the loss in Massachusetts reminded me of what any good president or elected official needs to understand: You’ve got to pay attention to public opinion, and you have to be able to communicate your ideas. But it happened, and the question then was, ‘What’s next?’

Sheryl Sandbergs Lean In Hits Bookstores Making The Feminist Case That Women Should Be More Aggressive And Ambitious In Their Careers And Making Feminists Themselves Very Angry

The “Mommy Wars” Finally Flame Out

After decades of chilly backlash, we find ourselves, these past eight years, in an age of feminist resurgence, with feminist websites and publications and filmmakers and T-shirts and pop singers and male celebrities and best-selling authors and women’s soccer teams. Of course, as in every feminist golden age, there has also been dissent: furious clashes over the direction and quality of the discourse, especially as the movement has become increasingly trendy, shiny, and celebrity-backed.

Perhaps the most public feminist conflagration of the Obama years came at the nexus of policy and celebrity, of politics and pop power. It was the furor over Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg, who gave a viral 2010 TED Talk about women in the workplace who “leave before they leave” — who alter their professional strategy to accommodate a future they assume will be compromised by parenthood — which led to the publication of her 2013 feminist business manifesto, Lean In.

It’s a lesson of the Obama era: One approach to redressing inequality does not have to blot out the others. Sometimes, attacking from all angles is the most effective strategy.

Texas State Senator Wendy Davis Laces Up Her Pink Running Shoes And Spends Ten Long Hours Attempting To Filibuster A Billthat Wouldve Imposed Statewide Abortion Restrictions

“The Concept of Dignity Really Matters”

“I was given an enormous degree of latitude. I did communicate with the White House counsel on occasion about high-profile cases, but it was much more in the nature of just giving them a heads-up, to calm any nervous feelings they might have. There’s only one exception to that, and it was on marriage equality, in the Hollingsworth v. Perry case in 2013. We were contemplating coming in and arguing that it was unconstitutional for California to refuse to recognize the legal validity of same-sex marriages. But we didn’t have to do it . And because it was a discretionary judgment, and it was such a consequential step, that was the one matter where I really sought out the president’s personal guidance. I wanted to make sure the president had a chance to thoroughly consider what we should do before we did it. It was really one of the high points of my tenure. It was a wide-ranging conversation about doctrinal analysis, about where society was now, about social change and whether it should go through the courts or through the majoritarian process, about the pace of social change, about the significance of the right at stake. He was incredibly impressive.

A Golf Summit Between John Boehner And Barack Obama Stirs Hopethat Perhaps The Two Parties Will Come To A Budget Agreement And Forestall A True Crisis Secret And Semi

A Grand Bargain That Wasn’t, Remembered Three Ways

“The president of the United States and the Speaker of the House, the two most powerful elected officials in Washington, decided in a conversation that they both had to try to make something happen. Maybe it would be the way it worked in a West Wing episode in a world that doesn’t work like a West Wing episode. That’s how it started — two individuals saying we’re going to try. I think they both shared a belief in the art of the possible, and they both did not think compromise was a dirty word.

When our cover was blown — a Wall Street Journal editorial came out saying that Boehner and Obama were working on this and attacking the whole premise — that was devastating. It resulted in Cantor being a part of the talks. Cantor and Boehner came in, and I think it was a weekend private session with the president in the Oval Office, and they were talking about the numbers. At one point Cantor said, ‘Listen, it’s not just the numbers. There’s concern that this will help you politically. Paul Ryan said if we do this deal, it will guarantee your reelection. If we agree with Barack Obama on spending and taxes, that takes away one of our big weapons.’ There were so many obstacles, some of them substantive — how much revenue, and what about the entitlements? — but there was also this overlay of ‘This is going to help Obama.’

Illustrations by Lauren Tamaki

The Obama Administration Unveils Its Plan For Regulating Wall Streetwhich Is Then Introduced In Congress By Senator Chris Dodd And Representative Barney Frank

MJ=JC?

Lane Brown: Michael Jackson’s death was a big deal for lots of obvious reasons, including the surprising way it happened and the fact that he was arguably the most famous person on the planet.

Nate Jones: He was an A-lister with an indisputable body of work; he was 50 years old, his hits were the right age — old enough that every generation knew them, but not too old that they weren’t relevant anymore.

LB: But it was also the first huge celebrity death to happen in the age of social media, or at least the age of Twitter.

NJ: MJ’s death came alongside the protests in Iran, which was when Twitter went mainstream.

LB: It also meant that so much of the instant reaction was to make it all about us.

Frank Guan: In a lot of ways, the culture prefers the death of artists to their continuing to live. Once an artist gets launched into the stratosphere, there’s no way to come down, and that permanence becomes monotonous. They run out of timely or groundbreaking material and the audience starts tuning out. At some point, their fame eclipses their art, and then the only way to get the general audience to appreciate them anew is for them to die.

LB: People seem to like the grieving process so much that even lesser celebrities get the same treatment.

Congresswoman Gabby Giffords Returns To The House Floor For The First Time Since Being Shot In A Massacre In January Casting A Vote In Favor Of The Debt

A Rare Moment of Unity

“I was doing intensive rehabilitation in Houston at the time but was following the debate closely, and I was pretty disappointed at what was happening in Washington. I’d seen the debate grow so bitter and divisive and so full of partisan rancor. And I was worried our country was hurtling toward a disastrous, self-inflicted economic crisis. That morning, when it became clear the vote was going to be close, my husband, Mark, and I knew we needed to get to Washington quickly. I went straight from my rehabilitation appointment to the airport, and Mark was at our house in Houston packing our bags so he could meet us at the plane.

That night, I remember seeing the Capitol for the first time since I was injured and feeling so grateful to be at work. I will never forget the reception I received on the floor of the House from my colleagues, both Republicans and Democrats. And then, like I had so many times before, I voted.

I worked so hard to get my speech back, and honestly, talking to people who share my determination helped me find my words again. I’ve been to Alaska, Maine, and everywhere in between. Best of all, I got back on my bike. Riding my bike once seemed like such a huge challenge. It seemed impossible.”

Miley Cyrus Twerks At The Mtv Vmassetting Off A Controversy About Cultural Appropriation That Soon Ensnares Seemingly Every White Pop Star On The Planet

• Karlie Kloss wears a Native American headdress and fringed bra at the Victoria’s Secret fashion show.

• Justin Timberlake is accused of appropriating black music when he tells a black critic “We are the same” after praising Jesse Williams’s BET Humanitarian Award speech about race and police brutality.

• DJ Khaled gets lost on Jet Ski, snaps the whole time.

• Two UW-Madison students snap their meet-cute as the entire student body cheers them on.

• Playboy Playmate Dani Mathers films and mocks an anonymous woman in the gym shower.

• A Massachusetts teen records the sexual assault of a 16-year-old girl. The video is later seen by a friend of the victim.

Prior To Going To War In Iraq Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld Optimistically Predicted The Iraq War Might Last Six Days Six Weeks I Doubt Six Months

What’s more, Vice-President Dick Cheney said we would be greeted as liberators by the Iraqi people after we overthrow Saddam.

They were both horribly wrong. Instead of six weeks or six months, the Iraq war lasted eight long and bloody years costing thousands of American lives. It led to an Iraqi civil war between the Sunnis and the Shiites that took hundreds of thousands of Iraqi lives. Many Iraqi militia groups were formed to fight against the U.S. forces that occupied Iraq. What’s more, Al Qaeda, which did not exist in Iraq before the war, used the turmoil in Iraq to establish a new foothold in that country.

The Iraq war was arguably the most tragic foreign policy blunder in US history.

In 2012 Republicans Predicted That Failure To Approve The Keystone Pipeline Would Send The Price Of Gasoline Sky High And Kill Large Numbers Of Jobs

Despite the fact that the Keystone Pipeline was not approved, the price of gasoline continued to drop below $1.80 per gallon, millions of new jobs were created and unemployment dropped from 8% to 4.9% by early 2016. The most optimistic predictions say that the Keystone Pipeline would only create a few dozen long-term jobs and would do nothing to lower the price of gasoline.

Eric Cantors Stunning Primary Loss Suggests No Politician Is Safe From The Rage Of The Tea Party Not Even The Tea Partys Canniest Political Leader

From Party’s Future to Also-Ran in a Single Day

On the day his political career died, Eric Cantor was busy tending to what he still believed was its bright future. While his GOP-primary opponent, David Brat, visited polling places in and around Richmond, Virginia, Cantor spent his morning 90 miles away at a Capitol Hill Starbucks. He was there to host a fund-raiser for three of his congressional colleagues — something he did every month, just another part of the long game he was playing, which, he believed, would eventually culminate in his becoming Speaker of the House.

The preceding five years had brought Cantor tantalizingly closer to that goal. In the immediate aftermath of Obama’s election, he’d rallied waffling House Republicans to stand in lockstep opposition to the new president’s agenda. In 2010, he’d helped elect 87 new Republican members, giving the GOP a House majority and making Cantor the House majority leader. He became the champion of these freshmen members, stoking their radicalism during the debt-ceiling fight and working to undermine Obama and John Boehner’s attempt to strike a “grand bargain.” His alliance with the ascendant tea party was strategic — it gave him leverage not only over Obama but over other Republicans who might also have had aspirations of becoming Speaker. It never occurred to him that the wave he was trying to ride might crash on him instead.

In 1993 When Bill Clinton Raised Taxes On The Wealthiest 15% Republicans Predicted A Recession Increased Unemployment And A Growing Budget Deficit

They weren’t just wrong: The exact opposite of everything they predicted happened. The country experienced the seven best years of economic growth in history.

Twenty-two million new jobs were added.

Unemployment dropped below 4%.

The poverty rate dropped for seven straight years.

The budget deficit was eliminated.

There was a growing budget surplus that economists projected could pay off our national debt in 20 years.

Republicans Predicted That We Would Find Iraqs Weapons Of Mass Destruction Even Though Un Weapons Inspectors Said That Those Weapons Didn’t Exist

The Bush administration continued to insist that WMDs would be found, even when the CIA said some of the evidence was questionable. As we all know, the WMDs predicted by the Bush administration did not exist, and Saddam Hussein had not resumed his nuclear weapons program as they claimed. Ultimately, both President Bush and Vice President Cheney had to admit that there were no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq.

Republicans Predicted That President Obamas Tax Increase For The Top 1% In 2013 Would Kill Jobs Increase The Deficit And Cause Another Recession

You guessed it; just the opposite happened. In the four years following January 1, 2013, when that tax increase went into effect, through January 2017, unemployment dropped from 7.9% to 4.8%, an average of more than 200,000 new jobs were created per month, Wall Street set new record highs, and the budget deficit was cut in half.

Over 5.7 million new jobs were created in the first two years after that tax increase. That’s more jobs created in two years than were created during the combined 12 years of both Bush presidencies.

In 2001 When George W Bush Cut Taxes For The Wealthy Republicans Predicted Record Job Growth Increased Budget Surplus And Nationwide Prosperity

Once again, the exact opposite occurred. After the Bush tax cuts were enacted:

The budget surplus immediately disappeared.

The budget deficit eventually grew to $1.4 trillion by the time Bush left office.

Less than 3 million net jobs were added during Bush’s eight years.

The poverty rate began climbing again.

We experienced two recessions along with the greatest collapse of our financial system since the Great Depression.

In 1993, President Clinton signed the Brady Law mandating nationwide background checks and a waiting period to buy a gun.

Apple Announces That It Has Sold 100 Million Iphoneswithin A Few Months It Will Overtake Exxonmobil As The Most Valuable Company In The World

Earthlings Gain a New Appendage

What if we had the singularity and nobody noticed? In 2007, Barack Obama had been on the trail for weeks, using a BlackBerry like all the cool campaigners, when the new thing went on sale and throngs lined up for it. The new thing had a silly name: iPhone. The iPhone was a phone the way the Trojan horse was a horse.

Now it’s the gizmo without which a person feels incomplete. It’s a light in the darkness, a camera, geolocator, hidden mic, complete ­Shakespeare, stopwatch, sleep aid, heart monitor, podcaster, aircraft spotter, traffic tracker, all-around reality augmenter, and increasingly a pal. At the Rio Olympics you could see people, having flown thousands of miles to be in the arena with the athletes, watching the action through their smartphones. As though they needed the mediating lens to make it real.

This device, this gadget — a billion have been made and we scarcely know what to call it. For his 2010 novel of the near future, , Gary Shteyngart made up a word, “äppärät.” “My äppärät buzzing with contacts, data, pictures, projections, maps, incomes, sound, fury.” Future then, present now. His äppäräti were worn around the neck on pendants. Ours are in our pockets when they aren’t in our hands, but they also sprout earbuds, morph into wristwatches and eyeglasses. Contact lenses have been rumored; implants are only a matter of time.

Let’s face it, we’ve grown a new organ.

Republicans Said Waterboarding And Other Forms Of Enhanced Interrogation Are Not Torture And Are Necessary In Fighting Islamic Extremism

In reality, waterboarding and other forms of enhanced interrogation that inflict pain, suffering, or fear of death are outlawed by US law, the US Constitution, and international treaties. Japanese soldiers after World War II were prosecuted by the United States for war crimes because of their use of waterboarding on American POWs.

Professional interrogators have known for decades that torture is the most ineffective and unreliable method of getting accurate information. People being tortured say anything to get the torture to end but will not likely tell the truth.

An FBI interrogator named Ali Soufan was able to get al Qaeda terrorist Abu Zubaydah to reveal crucial information without the use of torture. When CIA interrogators started using waterboarding and other enhanced interrogation methods, Zubaydah stopped cooperating and gave his interrogators false information.

Far from being necessary in the fight against terrorism, torture is completely unreliable and counter-productive in obtaining useful information.

In 2008 Republicans Said That If We Elect A Democratic President We Would Be Hit By Al Qaeda Again Perhaps Worse Than The Attack On 9/11

Former Vice-President Dick Cheney stated that electing a Democrat as president would all but guarantee that there would be another major attack on America by Al Qaeda. Cheney and other Republicans were, thankfully, completely wrong. During Obama’s presidency, we had zero deaths on U.S. soil from Al Qaeda attacks and we succeeded in killing Bin Laden along with dozens of other high ranking Al Qaeda leaders.

Game Of Thrones Arrives On Televisionwith An Assemblage Of Dragons Torture Nudity Incest And Despair A Show The Whole Family Can Enjoy

Explaining Kale

ADAM PLATT: Many things in Foodlandia, these days, have a political element to them, and if you want to emblazon a flag to be carried into battle, you could do worse than a bristly, semi-digestible bunch of locally grown kale.

ALAN SYTSMA: To eat kale is to announce you’re a person who cares about the matters of the day.

AP: The idea of kale is much more powerful than kale itself. In short order it went from being discovered, to appreciated, to being something that was parodied. Frankly, I’m all for the parody.

AS: The same thing happened to pork. Remember bacon peanut brittle? Bacon-fat cocktails? There’s bacon dental floss.

AP: Ahhh, bacon versus kale. The two great, competing forces of our time.

AS: Do you think one gave way to the other?

AP: What we’re really talking about is artisanal bacon, and the more sophisticated-sounding pork belly, made from pigs that were lovingly reared at upstate farms and fed diets of pristine little acorns. Bacon is the great symbol in the comfort-food, farm-fresh-dining movement, a kind of merry, unbridled pulchritude. Kale is the righteous yin to pork’s fatty, non-vegan yang.

AS: But pork has an advantage: People like the way it tastes.

AP: That’s a huge advantage, one that will hopefully see it through to victory.