#and he def sits and makes little biscuits from time to time

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

saw One tiktok and now all i can think of is jensen and bryce cry laughing over barry sitting on jensen and making little biscuits into his stomach

[lvminosityy]

Seungho’s excitement to return home was short lived. Of course he was happy to finally sleep in his own bed and he loved visiting his parents to give them their souvenirs and tell them all about his adventures. But with the tour over that meant he’d be going back to his regular, mundane life. His excitement died down when he realized what he was going home to. He’d be lying if he said his apartment didn’t feel especially empty these days…lonely.

He’d become too comfortable having someone around at all times whether it was his assigned roommate or a friend just a few doors down. Sure he could always call them up or go visit them, but it wasn’t the same. He missed the constant company that he used to joke he was annoyed of. Seungho even contemplates getting a roommate for a minute- but that idea was quickly squashed when he realized he’d have to empty out the spare bedroom and he’d have no place to put all his extra clothes.

He accepts that maybe he’ll just have to wait this out- that the loneliness will die down on its own as he gets back into the rhythm of things. Surely work will become the perfect distraction like it’d always had been and remind him he didn’t need anyone else there for home to feel homey again.

On his drive back from visiting his parents, Seungho sings along quietly to whatever songs come on from his playlist. He’s focused on the road but also questioning what he’s in the mood to eat once he actually arrives home. Everything was going smoothly and he was making great time…until he sees something curled up on the side of the road. He couldn’t live with himself if he just drove past the little fur ball, but of course it had to have been on one of the busiest streets for that time of day. Seungho quickly pulls over, a cacophony of honking breaks out behind him as he gets out the car and scurries to the black kitten, gently picking it up with both hands.

“C’mere little one.” He coos, cradling it like a baby. Well he couldn’t just leave it there now could he? Keeping it hadn’t actually crossed his mind. He’d only wanted to get it off the busy road where it might end up hurt or worse. But maybe just maybe this was exactly what he needed. A companion was sent his way just when he was feeling his loneliest. Seemed to him like they needed each other.

Seungho didn’t have to think about it for too long. He loves cats and the cat distribution system seemed to have blessed him today. There was no use in fighting it. After all, he’d spent all of two minutes with the kitten and already it’d won him over simply by yawning wide and exposing those sharp little fangs. He didn't need to see much more to be convinced. “Lets go home.” He says, already walking back over to the car.

Binx fun facts!

Seungho named him Binx after the cat in one his favorite Halloween movies, Hocus Pocus.

After giving Binx a bath he def took him to the vet to get checked out and then shopping! Seungho spent way too much money on toys and snacks but Binx mostly played with the box his cat tower came in.

Binx refuses to sleep in the living room in his comfy new bed. He likes sleeping with Seungho. Specifically on top of his chest and sometimes on his face.

Binx likes riding the roomba around the apartment.

Seungho has a sun catcher in the living room and when the colors shift on the floor, Binx likes to chase them.

Binx’s favorite spot to make biscuits is the couch. Seungho’s nice couch is now covered in scratches seungho cried a little when he saw it

Binx likes hiding behind the kitchen counter and jumping out to scare Seungho when he walks around the corner

Seungho bought him a cute little cat collar which Binx absolutely hated. It has yet to be seen again since that first day it was purchased

Binx likes when Seungho plays guitar. He will sit beside him and often nap while Seungho plays

[thehistorynut19]

harpocrates

Dedicated to @daigokiryu since we talk a loooot about our s/i's. I an utterly ENAMORED with Hack and Kuroro and I feel like Hack and Tea def got some shit - idk maybe they're these "rivals" or uh....

Hesitant allies? Who knows man.

Anyway enjoy imma hide

They say that older means wiser.

But older means you are older, senile, losing your sense of self and clinging on to that irrational reality that you think is real.

Perhaps they are both losing it.

Older she may be in a sense, a mother to all with a dead fish gaze of a lightpost; losing its light to time.

Younger they may be but the world had weighed down upon them with predatory gazes, unable to even lift the pen that they once used to flourish the world of ink.

It's poison to them now.

Carcinogenic fumes that buried their beloved.

A stinging, singing whip wrapped around their fist, the woman glaring at them. She thinks she knows, she claims she knows but does she?

Does she?

Does she know that agony that resounds, howls, and wishes in the dark that they make upon a starless sky because no one will fucking hear their cries?

Silenced by fate.

"Hack, that's enough, I don't want to fight you."

Hack hisses, a serpent within the grass as they raise their other fist. Flames licking at the deadly virus and ready to reach out and shoot forth-

"Stop! Please!"

The little lion cub paws at Hack's leg, having refused to transform despite his mother's state. Blunt nails digging into armor and scraping against keratin.

They don't want to kick the child but...

"Will this make you happy, Ku-san?!"

A pause, and Hack slowly feels their muscles distend upon themselves; shirking, rotting, a plague upon their bones. A heart once lost now falsely found feasting upon their own corpse.

When was the last time they had been happy?

"Will it...make you happy? Fighting?" Leoring doesn't know how to properly face the world, they know this but slowly do they bend down, the lancing whip's grace evaporating from their wrists as slowly both of their armor disintegrates

A choking, writhing, withering gasp.

"I don't know..."

Leoring slowly wraps his tiny paws around the leg of the other, "Can we stay...for a lil?" he whispers.

"Rest." A sudden shock of frigid cold to their cheek, a bottle of water in the hands of the other. Hack glances up to the tamer of beasts who gives them a silent and sweet smile. "When was the last time you had eaten, or drank something? Or even slept?" she always asks these questions to everyone, they remember her grilling her teammates with the most hideous of glares.

It's a sign she cares. when Hack no longer does.

Slowly they sit on the ground in a criss-cross position, bringing the little lion into their chest and letting out a sobbing sigh as the smell of popcorn and cotton candy and bubble gum fills their senses; it's the scent of the little kit that tries to help, purring and making biscuits against their shoulders.

"Thanks..." they hoarse murmur as they take the bottle after a moment of silence, and still has their hand stretched out as she places a wrapped rice ball into their palm to join it.

It's still warm...life put into it when they felt their own fade away.

"Do you think..." Hack murmurs as Tea sits next to them, Leoring looking up at them with wide eyes and a cock of his head.

"Do you think I'll see him again?"

"You will!"

"He's not the type to stay dead." Tea scoffs as she pulls out a blanket from her knapsack (they never figured out how the fuck she does that) and wraps it around their shoulders. "I'm sure he'll be back."

Hack doesn't speak, sipping from the bottle and munching from the wad of rice, listening absentmindedly to Leoring's little made up stories about the sun and the moon and the stars.

The silence won't kill any of them today, not until their tongues are primed for war once more.

[xokohaneazusawa]

-> This is the part 2, since I had too many words by trying to do all of them together, so this part follows the same prompt as Part 1, but instead with Reo Mikage and Sae Itoshi!

 Reo Mikage -> He was sitting on your couch making faces at your cat -> I mean what boyfriend wouldn't, having their girlfriend in their lap and then a cat sitting on top of her showing all their affection and her paying attention to her cat and not her boyfriend -> A Little (Lot) whiney, He's your boyfriend, not your cat!! He should be getting attention -> And then when you left to go grab a book that you were talking about earlier you placed it on his lap and then skipped off -> Though as much as you try to get your boyfriend and cat to get along, they don't. So the second you put your cat down and left the room happily, that cat gave a glare and bit his upper thigh "(NAME) Your dumb cat bit me!!" You didn't even hurry any faster to get to the room, not even daring to look up from the book that you had went to go grab "Reo, sweetie, we both know that she/he/they wouldn't do that, I mean I wouldn't bite you and I basically raised that cat, so in turn the cat wouldn’t bite you!” -> Was not convinced but loves you too much to say anything else so he just sideyes the cat and will pull you away from you everytime he gets too Sae Itoshi -> Tells you about how much he hates your cat I mean will he ever say it’s because it’s taking your attention away from him but still -> He was annoyed by watching your stupid cat (his word not mine) using it’s paws and making biscuits all over your chest, I mean wasn’t this his time and wasen’t he supposed to be laying there instead of letting your cat push her/his/their paws into it -> Rolling his eyes and saying a snarky comment was all he could really do at the time but it wasn’t enough for him, so he did what every good boyfriend does, he took the cat off your chest and placed it on the floor -> But just as he was trying to do so it bit his hand, which he pulled back in response

“Your dumb lukewarm cat just bit my hand.”

“Sae. No he/she/they didn’t, it was probably just a claw mark by accident”

-> He was a little pissed off but just took you in his arms before the cat could come back over, and def made some faces at the cat as you turned your attention back towards either your phone or the TV

[the-river-person]

Fangs, Tupperware, and Canines

Snip... snip... snip. Not one single stray bud or dying leaf would escape his shears. Papyrus, the Great and Terrible Papyrus, Lieutenant Captain of the Royal Guard, scowled in concentration as he trimmed the rose bush before him. It was a captain’s duty to maintain the flowerbeds around the station, for though they did not produce any actual sustenance, the roses were a symbol of loyalty to the Royal Family, and thus must be maintained with as much care as any plant in the fields or orchards. The sharp blade cut away at any offending sign of decay or hasty growth, mercilessly silencing them as brutally as the Lieutenant Captain would any lawbreaker. His hands were steady, showing no sign of the inner rage he was struggling to contain. Sans was late, again. If that no good, lazy, shit piece of-... no. Sans would have some reason, he was sure of it. There was always some reason, after all. Not always a good one, but good enough to scrape him by. Hmph. He glared at the rosebush as if it were at fault for his brother’s idiocy. Predictably, the rose bush showed no reaction, nor had Papyrus expected it to. He caught the sound of familiar footsteps approaching, that was Sans at last. But... not alone? Sans had no friends... who? Hand at his side, ready to summon a weapon of bone at the slightest instant, he stood and turned to await the arrival of his brother and whoever was with him. Upon seeing who it was, he relaxed. Doggo, a member of the Canine Unite. Loyal as any dog, though stupid and vicious as one. Papyrus smirked slightly. Stupid was good when it came to the dogs. They didn’t get any funny ideas. Unfortunately, Doggo himself smelled very strongly of smoke and dog biscuits as well as the very faint scent of whisky. One more person was with them. Funnily enough this Monster was being dragged by Sans, presumably against their will, and did not look even remotely happy about their circumstances. Papyrus noted that Doggo was looking equally annoyed and was also being forced along against his will. How very odd, Sans didn’t usually exert his will unless he really felt he needed to, and considering how damned lazy he was, that hardly ever happened. The other Monster was a cat monster, much like that radio host from Nebelheim, though this one was smaller and very clearly a child. Their fur was lighter grey marked by darker grey streaks. “I expect you have a very good reason for all of...this?” said Papyrus shortly, unable to find a suitable word to describe the ludicrous scene in front of him as he gestured to the three monsters before him. Somehow, Sans’ grin was almost gleeful, something that Papyrus wanted to smack him for, but as tempting as it was he managed to resist the impulse. “Sorry Boss, I was on my way to find ya. And I ran into these idiots near the orchards.” And saying this he gave both cat monster and Doggo a little shake, causing both to bare their teeth at him, which only made him snicker. It was absolute bullshit, to use the common phrase. Sans didn’t walk anywhere if he could help it. Papyrus’ interest in this was growing with each moment. “Doggo here found a little free experience and thought he’d have some fun. Normally I wouldn’t care, but Doggo is in the Guard, ain’t he? I seem’ ta remember some kinda rule against that. Can’t have anyone under your command breakin’ the rules, can we?” Sans was definitely up to something. He didn’t care a bit about rules or regulations. But technically, he was correct. There was a rule about members of the guard taking advantage of their position to prey on the weak for XP. After all, someone needed to keep some kind of order. For a long moment, Papyrus was silent, trying to decide what to do with the lot of them. Because Sans had actively saved this child, he couldn’t simply be thrown out or imprisoned, there was procedure to think of. And of course, Doggo couldn’t be let off easy, though his punishment would be light since he was a valuable asset to the guard. Just enough to make an example. “You, child. Who are you? Where is your family? Parental authorities? Striped shirt? Well?” The cat-monster stared up at him, clearly bewildered, and after a moment where Papyrus’s impatience was beginning to boil, he finally shrugged and shook his head. With a snort, and reaching the very end of his patience, Papyrus simply used his magic to Check the child’s stats. “?????” * HP: 14/20 * AT: 0   DEF: 0 * Weapon: Teeth & Claws * Doesn’t know where or who he is, but is determined to survive. A resilient soul, despite the lack of parents or a home. * Has been hungry for a while. Oh. Papyrus paused, his scowl deepening as he thought hard. That changed things. He tapped the side of his skull thoughtfully as he pondered out loud. “Well then, we’ll of course have to inform Captain Undyne as per regulation. And figure out what to do with you until some more permanent solution can be found.” “I could eat him?” offered Doggo. It was only a joke, even Papyrus could tell that, though perhaps a poorly timed one considering how much trouble the stupid monster was already in. But in the few seconds that it took for the comment to register, the cat monster had already broken free from Sans’ grip and leapt upon Doggo, biting him hard with his sharp fangs. “OWOWOHOW!!!” screeched the guard dog as he tried to shake off his would-be assailant. Sans was laughing, doubling over as his belly and shoulders shook from the force of his amusement. “Well shit, Doggo. Looks like you’re the one who’s gonna get eaten! Little kitten here has fangs after all!” With a growl of feigned annoyance, though he too was resisting the urge to laugh, Papyrus reached forward and grabbed the nameless monster by the scruff of his neck and pulled him away from Doggo, forcing him to release his toothy hold in order to turn around and bite Papyrus instead. “Stop that,” ordered the Lieutenant Captain sharply and his captive stilled in fear. “It won’t help anyway, I’m as resilient as bone.” He smirked in San’s direction as his brother’s face went blank with surprise before breaking into an even wider grin. “We’ll have to call you something, and since you seem to be well equipped with them, we’ll call you Fang. Don’t bite any more guards unless you have no other choice, its against the law.” Thrusting Fang down into a chair he made his way over to a little refrigerator sitting in the corner, from this he removed a tupperware of his famous lasagna. It was still hot, as the fridge was one of the custom made ones from Nebelheim labs and kept anything inside well heated. This he placed down firmly in front of Fang, adding a fork and a napkin for good measure. Injuries and lost identities were no excuse for bad manners. Doggo was scowling at the kid, “You’re feeding him?” He said with a sort of plaintive and complaining whine in his voice. “But he bit me.” “Yes he did, and well deserved too. Besides, he’s hungry and the best remedy is my famous-” he paused as there was a tug on his sleeve. Turning to look he found the boy offering him the now empty tupperware with a hopeful expression. Wordlessly Papyrus retrieved another from the fridge and that too was quickly devoured. Honestly he wasn’t at all certain what to make of the expression the child was giving him now, something kind of like adoration. He wasn’t sure he liked it, but he found it difficult to fault anyone who had such refined taste enough for his lasagna. “Ahem,” he cleared his throat, it was time to get back on track. “He can stay in the spare bedroom for a week or so, until things are sorted out and some other arrangement can be made. Papyrus took great pleasure in the fact that both Doggo and Sans had sour expressions now. Doggo still nursing the bite marks from the kid’s teeth, and Sans looking like he wished he’d dumped the kid in a ditch before sharing the house with someone else. “Now,” he said, addressing the pair. “I seem to recall that both of you are still on duty, and the day isn’t nearly over. Get back to your patrols or I’ll be sending reports to Undyne containing your death certificates.” With a click of his teeth in a wide grin and a mocking salute, Sans disappeared with a final “Aye Boss, whatever you say.” Doggo sullenly gave a more proper salute and slunk off out the door. Papyrus noted that the canine’s uniform was wrinkled and the shirt wasn’t tucked in, not to mention that it also had several small tears where the material had worn thin. Humph. It was a travesty. He’d have to order an official inspection one of these days.

[shatteringzimmermann]

part 10

if only i wrote this much this quickly for my original fiction.

2.2k! juuuust shy of 20k with this update. There’s still a lot of time i want to cover so we’re def gonna hit at least 30 but no promises i’ll stop there.

Parts One & Two  /  Part Three  /  Part Four  /  Part Five  /  Part Six  /  Part Seven  /   Part Eight  /   Part Nine  / 

“I’m sorry,” Jack mumbled sometime later. They were in bed properly, bodies tucked under the covers and Jack’s head tucked under Eric’s chin. In the dim light Jack could see the goosebumps that rose on Eric’s collarbone every time he exhaled.

“Hush now. No one gets to decide when their emotions are gonna hit. Do you want more water?” he gestured to the fresh glass and the biscuit Shitty had brought in and left on the table behind Jack. “You’ve gotta be dehydrated from that jag.” Eric pulled away to reach for the water, making Jack groan. “Oh stop it, you silly man. You’re gonna make that headache worse and I know it’s gotta hurt somethin’ sinful right now.”

 He was right, so Jack sat up gingerly and drank down the glass. The moment it was back on the table Jack pulled Eric close.

 So much of Jack was warm. Not in the sense of peeling off his shirt and sweats, though with Eric’s added body heat it was a little too much. Jack clenched and flexed the fingers of his left hand. He groaned at the pain that radiated down from his shoulder, but that was it. The icy discomfort that had been eating at him for so long was…gone. Instead Jack felt as if his core was made of something light and airy.

 Breathing in Eric’s scent Jack labeled this feeling joy and decided he never wanted to let it go. He grasped Eric’s shirt in his hand and pressed himself closer. With the fabric in his hand he paused. “Is this my shirt?”

 “Oh, um, yes?” A pink flush slid across Eric’s skin. “I was just so worried, you see, so when Lardo went back to our apartment she grabbed it for me.”

 “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

 “Goodness, Jack. I don’t think you should be apologizing for some idiot nearly breaking your neck. None of it was your fault!”

 “No, no, I mean before that.” Jack shrugged, hoping that acting nonchalant would make him actually feel nonchalant. “For not texting back and stuff.”

 “And stuff?” Eric echoed. Jack could hear the smile in his voice but still pulled back to see his face.

 In the candlelight Eric looked like a Renaissance painting: soft, inviting, perfect. Jack wondered if touching him would smudge any still-damp paint, ruining the final product with the wild desperation he’d been fighting for over a week.

 “And stuff?” he prompted again.

 “Yeah. Eh, like, letting Lardo call you that day and barging in on your conversation. And for just being a crappy person, I guess.” He filled Eric in on what he’d done to avoid running into him in public.

 “Mr. Zimmermann,” Eric started, and Jack wanted to hear him say that every day for the rest of his life. “We already talked about the video call and you know you’re forgiven, so I hope you’ll be able to let that go soon so it’s not hangin’ on you. And if it makes you feel better, you wouldn’t have run into me anyway. I’m usually up much after that and spend a lot of time on my computer. Indoors, and away from any beautiful men I’d be completely distracted by.”

 This time it was Jack who blushed. He looked down and traced the letters on Eric’s – his – shirt. The bottom hem must hang past mid-thigh, he figured, if Eric were standing. He didn’t notice when Eric had come to him earlier but the man was proportioned exactly like his- their- dreams.

 “Sorry,” Eric said.

 Jack looked back up, a question on his face.

 “I think…when you’re feelin’ better, of course, we need to sit down and talk about what we want from this. If,” he hesitated, biting at his lip. “If anything. Right now we will do whatever we need to do to help you get better, but I wanna make sure we’re on the same page after that.

 Jack had read every page of so many books and he was so desperate to know what words Eric was reading at this exact moment. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” His voice was barely a whisper.

 Eric shook his head. “Not like that, no. Lord, Jack, please don’t look at me like that, you have no idea-” He broke off with a frustrated groan. Moving to grasp Jack’s wrist, Eric flattened his hand against the letters he’d been tracing. The thrum of Eric’s heart under his palm brushed away the crumbled bits of that shield Jack had tried so hard to create.

 Jack memorized as much as he could- the way Eric was looking at him with those beautiful eyes, the pressure of his hand, the floral shampoo and honey scent that seemed to find Jack anywhere. Eric’s breathing was normal but his heart seemed to be pounding under Jack’s hand.

 “I’m not gonna say too much ‘cause this is definitely not a conversation to be havin’ with a concussion,” he repeated. “But there’s something there. There’s something between us that I want to understand. I’ve never been so drawn to someone like this before.” His eyes darted to Jack’s and up to the candle. “I don’t know if you feel the same but I don’t want you worryin’ your already hurt head with such thoughts.”

 “I want to take you on a date,” Jack said. He hadn’t been expecting to say that, because really he wanted to kiss Eric and see if he tasted like honey too, but a date seemed like a better first step.

 The curve of Eric’s lips was so enticing that Jack nearly kissed him anyway.

 “I’d like that.”

 “But you’re sure though, that this,” he wiggled his fingers against Eric’s chest and nudged his ankle against his where they were linked under the covers, “is okay?”

 “Well I do have to say that it’s a little weird to be in bed and still wearing socks but that’s about the limit of my discomfort.”

 When Jack smiled Eric’s eyes dropped to his mouth. Jack’s stomach chose that moment to rumble again, making Eric laugh and Jack wondered if he was hungry for food or for the continued closeness of this maybe hope. Still, he let Eric sit up and give him flakey layers of the best biscuit he’d ever eaten.

 “I’m sure this isn’t exactly in your nutrition plan-”

 “I’m a professional hockey player,” Jack replied. “I can eat anything I want to as long as I’m not stupid about it.”

 “What is considered stupid?” Eric asked, peeling another heavenly layer.

 “An entire keg in one sitting,” Jack offered. “Three XXL pizzas with half a dozen toppings each.”

 “Good God. Please tell me that wasn’t you.”

 Jack shook his head, wincing at his neck. He probably should have iced it. “The beer was Reynauld and the pizzas were Tater.”

 Eric stifled a laugh. “I can totally see Tater doin’ that,” he said. “I don’t know Reynauld though.”

 He wanted to tell Eric to not quiet his laughter. Jack wanted to know what it sounded like. He didn’t though, he only talked of his teammates until his eyes drooped. He was mostly asleep when he felt soft lips press against his forehead and a strong arm rest across his ribs, pulling him close.

  The sun was glowing behind Jack’s curtains when he woke. He’d shifted in the night so that his head wasn’t level with Eric’s chin anymore. Instead they were eye to closed eye. Eric was curled on his stomach with his feet still tangled with Jack’s. His breathing was even and deep.

 Jack couldn’t smell much still. He slid his hand under the covers until he found Eric’s wound in the blankets. The movement made his neck and shoulder ache but as long as he didn’t actually lift his arm it was manageable. Gently, he slid his fingers between the fabric and Eric’s warm palm. He shifted a bit at Jack’s ministrations but didn’t wake. Maybe it was a trick of the dim light or the concussion, but Jack swore Eric’s lips pulled into the tiniest smile as he slept.

 It couldn’t have been much longer until Eric shifted again, his finger’s tightening around Jacks. When he opened his eyes that kind-of smile turned into a real one.

 “Mornin’,” he mumbled.

 After so many years on the road, rooming with various teammates, Jack knew the sound of a man newly awake. The way their voices were somehow so much deeper without trying to be. The rawness of their speech and the way it had the potential to make Jack’s very bones yearn to pull them close, turn out the light, and let the world continue without them for a few hours.

 The feeling hadn’t happened in years and even then, it had only been once before. Jack was glad the lights were already out and he knew the world at large already didn’t care that he was downed by a concussion. He pulled his hand from Eric’s and carefully pressed it against his check. Eric’s skin was supple and soft against Jack’s scratchy callouses. He stiffened slightly, enough that Jack pulled away. Eric grabbed Jack’s hand.

 “I don’t want you to do something you might regret when you’re not concussed,” he whispered. “Hell, I don’t want to force you into something regrettable ever.

 Jack had a sudden flashback to that campfire dream where whispered truths were the only thing worth listening to. Where he heard Eric’s name for the first time, where he knew the hope growing inside him might have a permanent place in his life one day.

 “I’m scared you’ll find out how much of a mess I am and never want to see me again,” Jack replied softly.

 Eric laced his fingers with Jack’s. “I could say the same ‘bout me.”

 “Not possible.”

 “Jack, we don’t even actually know each other. You could end up hating me.”

 “Is that the truth for any relationship though?” he pointed out.

 “Maybe,” Eric conceded. “But that’s why I want to talk when you’re feelin’ better. Set ground rules, blah blah.”

 “What kind of rules?” He pulled himself forward until his nose brushed against Eric’s. His breath hitched but he didn’t pull away.

 “Lord, Jack. You ain’t gonna make this easy are you.”

 Jack hummed. “Might as well learn that now.”

 Eric’s hand threaded through Jack’s hair but didn’t push him away. “We can’t do anything until you’re better, okay?”

 He groaned. “But I really wanna kiss you.”

 “I know, darlin’, and I really wanna kiss you too. But if I’ve learned anything from Shitty it’s knowing when to take a step back and breathe.”

 “Just one kiss?”

 “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that, right?”

 “Mmm…good.” Jack winced as he lifted his hand onto Eric’s hip.

 “See?” Eric pointed out. He was still breathless with Jack that close. He moved his hand to gently brush against the wrecked muscles. “You need more pain medication. I should get up and get it for you.” He licked his lips. “I’m… I’m gonna do that now, okay?”

 “No.”

 Eric huffed a laugh that brushed Jack’s mouth. “Charmer.”

 He eventually pulled away after lingering a few quiet, tense moments longer than he needed to. Sitting up, he flicked his wrist and his face lit up from his watch. “Goodness, it’s already near ten.” When he turned to look at Jack he realized Jack had buried his face in his pillow. “Oh shit,” he said, quickly covering up the brightness of his watch. “I’m so sorry.”

 “’s okay,” Jack mumbled. It still awoke the throbbing in his head to a level he couldn’t ignore anymore. It radiated down his spine and through his damn shoulder and he just wanted it to stop.

 Eric was back moments or minutes later with water and his meds. Jack groaned as he sat up but obediently swallowed the pills. He lay down on his back, eyes closed and wishing for some level of unconsciousness until the meds kicked in.

 “Do you want some food?” Eric whispered.

 “Non.”

 Fingers brushed the hair away from his face. Jack turned so Eric’s palm cupped his cheek. It was colder than he was expecting but felt wonderful.

 “Oh, here, I got you some ice for your neck. I know you can’t see it but it’s turnin’ like a damn rainbow.”

 Jack groaned. “Great.” He hissed when the towel-wrapped pack pressed against the tender skin.

 “We should have done this earlier,” he admitted, “but we were more worried about the concussion than the bruising once we knew nothing was broken. You’ll be right as rain soon,” Eric promised. He began to pull away but stopped when Jack let out a noise that might have been a whimper. “Are you o-”

 “Stay.” Eric had said we like this mattered to him, like one day it wouldn’t mean Lardo-and-Shitty-and-Eric taking care of Jack but Eric-and-Jack taking care of each other.

 Even with his eyes closed he could feel Eric’s gaze dart over him: his eyes, his injured neck, the rise and fall of his chest.

 “One minute and I’ll be back, okay?”

 Jack grunted softly. Eric’s hand disappeared. Light flared and was gone as he quickly slipped out of the room.

 Jack was in and out of sleep for what could have been moments, minutes, or hours. He clenched his good hand in the covers like it would anchor him to the bed. At some point Eric returned and replaced the blankets with his hand and Jack finally felt like his feet weren’t about to touch the ceiling.

 “Sleep,” Eric whispered in his ear as he settled in close. “I got you.”

[k8eatsphl]

middle child

woah this is actually a surprise first post! i assumed my first restaurant checked off the list would be [SPOILER ALERT] south philly barbacoa, where i’m gonna get food tomorrow to eat with goda.  i even wrote a draft of the post already cuz i’m such a professional social media’er. 

but today i ate at MIDDLE CHILD. 

that i went there today was not a spontaneous decision. i rarely make those. n when i do they are usually very large life decisions like quit work, sell all ur stuff, and move to jp lolol. but breakfast is not a decision to be made lightly. 

no, the thought to eat at middle child occurred to me last night, when i was trying to decide if i should defrost some bacon and make buttermilk biscuits for my saturday post-run breakfast. i thought to myself “first bfast of 2019...and you just made this list of restaurants you want to try to eat at...and u are always thinkin of middle child for bfast...and buttermilk lasts for fuckin ever”. 

and that was that. my decision was made.

i walk passed middle child almost every day. it’s v hipstery n has good decor n nice lookin staff. plus their sammies menu is enticing. plus plus they make their own pastrami! which is why i decided to order the harvey waker for bfast: 

this is an egg, cheese, and pastrami sandwich on toasted rye. it is apparently not on their website menu, but is on their standard menu in the restaurant.  i had played around with the idea of ordering their regular breakfast sandwich (called “breakfast sandwich”) which is basically this sandwich minus pastrami, plus arugula, served on a potato roll. i would’ve added some pork roll, cuz that’s a regional speciality, and i love bologna. but had to try the pastrami. 

it was a pretty good sandwich. coulda been a little more flavorful, but def hit the spot. the best part of the sandwich was, by far, the toasted rye. it was the perfect thickness, and the perfect level of greasiness/crispness on the outside.

i did like the ambiance of middle child too. they had fun, weird food stuff for sale and a library of cookbooks to read while i waited for food. they have a diner bar, which is my preferred seating arrangement for solo eating. the bar facing the kitchen was full up, but i got to sit at a bar facing the street which was nice too.  and the staff were super nice. the guy who took my order gave me the jefferson student discount on coffee cuz i work for the city, and he asked what i do on a daily basis and seemed like he was rly listenin. 

conclusion: would definitely go back, maybe for a lunch sandwich next time (i got my eye on the phoagie, but would also like to try one of their specials).

i just decided i better rate places i eat from my map. 

rating: 7/10

history in the making: 

[glass-ladybug]

Mae woke up at the perfect time of 1:35 pm, only to be decked in the face by exhaustion and boredom. As a kid, getting a day off of school was like heaven. Unfortunately, after you become a disappointment to the family and a college drop out with literally nothing to do, and no responsibilities past showering occasionally, it starts being less fun and more... depressing. Mae didn't like thinking about that too much. As light filtered into her messy little room, Mae opened her eyes and immediately regretted it, sinking deeper into the bed covers. Waves of pain and nausea coursed through her head, and she clenched her teeth, clutching onto the bedspread. The dreams hadn't gotten... worse, necessarily, but it seemed that they were getting more vivid. Which sucked. Face still firmly planted in the covers, Mae blindly groped around for her laptop, shuffling things around on the nightstand as she dragged it onto her lap. Unfortunately, this was the step where she would need to be able to see. Slowly, she rubbed her eyes and reluctantly opened them, giving a sigh of relief when no second burst of pain affected her. She absently logged on, yawning as she waited for the morning's messages to load in. greggrulz: Heeeeey!!!! greggrulz: at work 2day.... u should stop by!!! greggrulz: my boss dropped off some new stuff greggrulz: lightbulbs for like..... 68 cents greggrulz: im sure she wouldnt notice if a few... went missing greggrulz: anyway!!! see u later greggrulz: Sincerely, Greggory. Well, it was too late now. Gregg had the morning and evening shifts which meant he'd probably be at home with Angus right now. And Mae really didn't want to stick her finger in their broken call button again. So, that was out. Wouldn't hurt to text him back, though! witchdagger1031: Hey gregg witchdagger1031: ur not online now, but we can def hang tomorrow witchdagger1031: im down with whatever witchdagger1031: tell the big guy i say hi witchdagger1031: over and out Yeah, that was good. Angus, per usual, had only left an away message, but that was okay. He was probably having fun fixing a giant robot, or programming a top-secret device for the FBI. Or... Whatever Angus did in his spare time. BeatriceSantello: Morning. BeatriceSantello: I'm at work, If you want to come by or whatever. BeatriceSantello: See you soon. Mae shuddered. So.... Formal. Aack. For as much of a badass Bea was, she kinda needed to loosen up a little. Mae let her mind wander. Maybe there'd be another furnace to beat the shit out of today. Hmm. No, she was actually more in the mood to destroy a refrigerator. Yeah, that sounded good. Dragging herself out of bed, Mae pulled on a worn orange sweatshirt and yanked a pair of shoes onto her feet. She trudged down the steps, feeling a little lonely when her mom wasn't in the kitchen. She knew it was unreasonable for her mom to still be there, considering, y'know, she had a ...job. She still couldn't help feeling a little sad, though. Mae thew together some cereal and an Eggo waffle - a delicious combination, despite what everyone else seemed to think. Losers. They didn't know how to appreciate good food. After dumping her bowl into the sink, Mae disappeared out the door and into the quiet atmosphere of Possum Springs. The door to The Ol' Pickaxe jingled softly, and Mae sauntered up to the counter, and plopped herself down on it. "Hey, Bea!" Amused, Bea continued to stock the register. "Hey, Mae." "So," Mae shifted around, "how's the Pickaxe?" "Trying to kill me." Bea muttered. "Unsuccessfully, thus far at least." "What's so stressful?" "Well, on top of everything else, we're hosting that Harfest play tomorrow." Bea grumbled, tapped out numbers on her keyboard and absently handing a customer their receipt. "Oh, wooooooooww. Lucky you." Mae snickered. "Yeah. I'm never offering to help with this again." Mae swung her legs, bouncing on the counter. "So, what are you up to tonight?" Bea raised an eyebrow. "Uh. Nothing?" She shook her head. "I'm, like, super tired." Frowning now, Bea began organizing a list of fluorescent labels in a pattern Mae didn't really want to decipher. "Because everything in my life is exhausting. And I'm doing the work of like /three/ employees, plus a store owner. Even though I'm one employee, and I /do not own this store/!" Bea's husky, low voice quickly rose in volume, and she ended the sentence with something near a shout as she slammed down her pen with a bang. "Oh," Mae said helpfully, "weird." Bea gave another worn out sigh, and for the first time Mae noticed how /tired/ she looked. She did a good job of hiding with her black, expertly applied eyeshadow, but creases and dark circles were still visible if you looked closer. "I thought for some reason you owned this place now." Mae said. Bea let out a derisive laugh. "You'd think. Actually, though, I'd rather die. Like, make me a coffin using tools from this store, and bury me literally anywhere else." "Wow. That got intense." A drawer clicked as Bea slid her finished work into a file. "Aaaaagh. Sorry I'm so high strung." Mae scuffed her shoes against the counter, attracting a dirty look from an employee across the store. "It's chill." "Anyway. I'm doing nothing tonight." Mae perked up, sitting a little taller. "I can do nothing too!" There was a beat of dead quiet. "Fine." Mae did a little victory dance to herself, pumping a fist into the air. "Nice!" "So, are we doing this now? My shift is over soon." "Yeah! Let's hang out!" Bea began packing up, wrangling a set of several scratched keys. "I don't having anything very interesting to do. I'm just knocking off work early to pick up some groceries." Mae shrugged, and hopped off the counter. "That's fine!" Bea shouted to the other on-duty employee that she was leaving early, giving them a glare that just dared them the contradict her. As Bea turned around, Mae stuck her tongue out and waved at the employee, reveling in her retribution. Take that, capitalism! ------------------------------------------ "-And that's why U.S. pennies aren't 100% copper." Mae rambled. "You sure know a lot of useless shit." "Yep! That's my specialty. Knowing useless shit and beating things up." "It's a good combination." Bea snorted. The two walked side by side in the Ham Panther, Bea adding various items to her red plastic basket, and Mae salivating over the snack section. Bea held up a can of corn, examining it before dropping it in with the myriad of other food items. "OK. I need to grab a few things quick." "Aww, I thought we were gonna hang out!" "Uh. We are hanging out. I'm just here to grab something for dinner for Dad and me. I don't feel like ordering again." Mae beamed widely. "Let me pick out what we have!" Bea choked, grinning slightly. "Oh, I'm sorry. You're coming to dinner?" "Can I?" The older girl let out a disbelieving laugh. "Um. I guess?" Mae fluttered her eyelashes, smiling saccharinely. "Are you asking?" "I wasn't." Mae snapped her fingers. "Damn." "I wasn't, but now it feels weird not to..." "Great! Then I'll pick out what we have to eat!" Mae yanked the basket from Bea's arm, and began speeding down an aisle, when she felt someone grab onto her arm. Bea looked at her carefully. "Wait, you're actually serious?" Mae nodded excitedly. "You know what? Go for it. I hate shopping. We need a main course and like, two sides?" Smiling brighter than ever, Mae pointed at her beloved snack aisle. "Dessert?" "We're not children." "Appetizer?" "We're on a /budget/, Mae." Still not letting go, Bea held Mae out at arms length. "And no shoplifting. I can afford a few groceries, and this place has cameras." "Good point." Mae complied. Bea let her arm fall away, and the self-proclaimed 'fierce warrior' sped down a random aisle with a clumsy salute. She quickly grabbed the brightest and most colorful looking can, which turned out to be chicken noodle soup (with stars!). Then, satisfied with that decision, Mae sprinted toward the boxed, 'make it yourself' aisle, yanking some 'Nice Rice' off the shelf. Niiiiice riiice. Mmm, great. Shoes screeching on the shiny tiled floor, Mae sharply turned into the refrigerator aisle, eyes flicking over the array of goods stacked neatly. She tossed a roll of off-brand biscuits into her basket, not really even looking at what she grabbed. Facing her own invisible time limit, Mae booked it back to where Bea was meandering under the Ham Panther's fluorescent lights. "That was quick." Panting, Mae rested her hands on her knees. "Haah.... Good..." Mae looked up, still out of breath. "My dad, uh, works at the deli! We could get meat from there." "Lead the way." As they walked, Mae noticed Shakey Bakey was on sale. Nice. That stuff was awesome. She added it to the basket. Over at the Deli Counter, Mae's father, a kind of robust (but lovable!) man, was working the cash register, fully decked out with apron, hair net, and thin rubber gloves. "Ladies!" He greeted. "Hey, Dad." "Bea, long time no see!" Bea smiled politely. "How are you, Mr. Borowski?" "Can't complain." Mr. Borowski's chest shook as laughed. "Just me and the meats." He smiled, patting a fish fillet. "Still weird seeing you here, Dad." Mae chimed in. "Beats the alternative!" Bea furrowed her eyebrows. "What's the alternative?" "Unemployment." "Oh." He smiled cheerfully, his eyes crinkling up around the edges. "So what are you lovely ladies doing here?" "Just grabbing something for dinner." "How's your dad?" Bea's expression darkened briefly. "Alright." Mae's father nodded absently. "What can I get for you?" Gesturing to Mae, Bea took a step back, allowing the smaller of the two to press her hands on the glass display counter, scrutinizing their options. "She's picking." "One of your best fishes, please!" Bea hummed vaguely. "Whatever's good. Dinner for three people, nothing pricey." Mr. Borowski slid out a tray of fish, wrapping one in paper. "Bea, you should come by for dinner sometime!" Mae's heart immediately froze, and she repressed the urge to bolt out the door, steal Bea's truck, and never return. While her body was unfortunately stuck here, her brain was already far gone. "A-at the Ham Panther?" She stumbled. "At home, Mae. I'll grill us up something nice!" Bea was calm as ever, and Mae almost hated her for it. "That'd be nice. Thank you." "Ok-ok, let's check out!" Mae said, hastily shoving her basket at her dad, who was trying not to smile. Pulling out a cigarette, Bea flicked her lighter, much to Mae's distaste. "I'm not even looking at what you got. That is how straight up tired I am." "It's gonna be great!" "If you say so. Let's keep moving." Mae's father began bagging their groceries. "Hmm. Hmm, yes, okay. Oh? Well that's... interesting." "Interesting?" Mae said hopefully. "Maybe I'm just behind the times. Have a nice day, girls." Bea grabbed her keys and their bags. "Alright. Thanks, Mr. Borowski." "See you later, Dad!" Her father gave a little wave, as the two departed from the Ham Panther, and into Bea's car. That was his girl. Awkward and odd, but with a good heart. ------------------------------------------ Bea's apartment was messy. It looked like someone had /attempted/ to keep it clean, but over time it had just fallen into despair. Mae didn't miss the nervous little glances Bea shot her when she thought she couldn't see, nor the way her body tensed up as they walked through the doorway. Seeing the disarray the house was in, Mae felt a little less... underdressed than before. She looked over at Bea, waiting for her to extinguish her cigarette. She didn't. "I'm home." She yelled out. The couch- wait, no, a /person/ on the couch- answered back. "You're early." Bea set the groceries on the table, leading Mae to a slightly scratched chair. "We're having someone over. Do you remember Mae?" Mae gave a little wave, and the figure on the couch grunted. Grabbing a pan from under a cupboard, Bea started preheating the stove. Motioning for Mae to help, she began spouting off instructions. "Butter. Top shelf in the refrigerator. Add it to the pan, and then stir in the rice. When you're done with that, grab the biscuits and open them." "Aye-aye!" In about a half hour of splattering, sarcasm, and Mae stealing a taste of food whenever Bea turned around, dinner was cooked. "No, don't touch the oven. I don't need a house fire." "I was ten!" Mae cried indignantly. "Pyromania is for life." As Bea pulled the fish from the oven, her father stood up, and seated himself at the table. "Nice to see you, Mae. Been awhile." Mae raised her eyebrows at the quick attitude change, but gave a nervous smile in return. "Uh... Hi?" "Um." Bea said. "Huh?" "You.... Put Shakey Bakey. On fish." "So?" "Just take a bite." Mae bit into the crispy fish, and almost gagged. It tasted spicy, sour, and a whole bunch of other things that fish should definitely not taste like. "Oh." Bea sighed. "Yeah. 'Oh' about sums it up. Dad, do you want me to order a pizza?" "Go ahead." Suddenly filled with guilt, embarrassment prickled over Mae's skin. "Did I ruin dinner?" Mr. Santello laughed- a far cry from his attitude when Mae arrived. It was a little unnerving. "Yep. But we'll live, I think. The fish just didn't work out." Mae fidgeted and looked away. "I thought: Hey, fish is good. Shakey Bakey is good..." Bea snorted. "Did you like it?" "No, I agree. It's pretty terrible." With that, Mr. Santello made his way back to the couch, and flicked on the T.V. Bea sat next to him, and started talking business, leaving Mae to only be vaguely tuned in, and staring at the putrid orange walls. "So, we're all paid up 'til the 15th next month." Bea's father grunted. "Alright. That rock salt sorted?" "Yeah, should be fine." She was looking away now, a crease forming on her high forehead, and her posture tense. "Okay, uh, I need you to sign some things. Left them on the table." "Think I might just get to 'em." "Please do. We have to pay the guys in a few days." "I don't need you to remind me." There was a prolonged beat of silence, and Mae could swear the temperature dropped a few degrees. Bea pursed her lips. "I know, but-" "I /don't/, Beatrice. Whose name is on the deed?" "...Yours, Dad." "Whose names on the checks?" Bea was almost perfectly still now, her fingers clutching the armrest so hard they were turning pale. "Yours." She ground out. Mae wanted so badly to pipe up, but before she could say a word, Bea shot her a Look. It wasn't harsh, nor a glare like she gave her co-worker. It was almost a ...plea. Like she was silently begging her to shut up. So, Mae did. But she wasn't happy about it. Bea stood up stiffly. "Mae and I are gonna hang out in my room." Mr. Santello smiled kindly. "You girls have a nice time! Thanks for dinner, Mae." "O...kay." "C'mon, Mae." Bea muttered. Mae lingered around for a few seconds, running a hand over the apartment's chipped and cracked walls. Bea. Badass, smart, always calm and cool Bea lived /here/. For as cynical and sarcastic as she was, there was no way Bea was okay with that. ((NO TRANSITION SENTENCE BC I CAN'T THINK OF ONE)) Bea's room was filled with an array of boxes, some semi-unpacked, and some completely untouched. There was a laundry hamper pushed to a corner, and a laptop laying on the carpet, plugged into an outlet. Bea herself was curled up on a tiny, rickety blue wooden bed, her heavy-lidded eyes only half open. "So... Did you guys move in recently?" Mae questioned. "10 months ago." "Why aren't you unpacked?" Bea just shifted over, fiddling with a loose string on the bed, wrapping it over her finger again and again. "So I've got a question." Mae said. "Mmhmm?" "Your dad is kinda up and down, huh?" "He has good days, and bad days. Often in the same day." "Haha, Gregg's always been like that too. Just more...uh... zany about it." "Well Gregg is most likely bi-polar, or on the autism spectrum. He's never actually told me the specifics." "Yeah, he doesn't talk about it much. But thanks, Doctor Bea." "My pleasure. Whereas, my dad is having a years long breakdown." "You run the whole store now, right?" "More or less." "Yeah," Mae huffed, "but it's still his name on everything." "Yep." "And meanwhile, you're running basically /everything/." "Yep. And! And! Working there /every day/ too. Yep." "I just think you shouldn't! I mean, I would probably just quit. Or, like, take over the store. Like, you not doing anything just reinforces-" The string Bea was pulling on snapped. "Is this really the road you want to go down with this?" Mae clenched her jaw. "I'm /saying/ it's not right that you roll over and take it." Bea's voice was dangerously calm, and Mae was sightly taken aback. "Take it?" "Take it?!" Her words were filled with a seething, dark anger, and it took all of Mae's willpower not to back up. "You're doing all the work, and he's getting all the credit!" Mae snapped. "Oh, go to Hell." Mae's jaw dropped, and she stared at her friend. "Why? What is your /problem/?" Bea's eyes were squeezed shut now, and her mouth was twisted into a grimace. "Here's some reality for you: You know Creek? Repair guy Creek, at the shop?" "...Yeah?" "When I was fifteen he asked my dad if he could teach my how to drive. And my dad said no, and then told me not to be alone with him." "Oh my God." Mae whispered. "Yeah. Exactly. And you know what? He still works for us." "Why haven't you fired him?!" "I can't fire people! And, even if I could, he's on the crew. Frankly, he's our best guy. Practically heads up the repair team, since my dad's not doing anything!" Bea's voice was losing it's anger, and melting into disdain and exhaustion. "Creek's got a family, and he needs to work." "I'm gonna be sick." "Yeah! Me too! I have /no power/, Mae, and I can't change that." Mae paused, not caring that she was being blunt. "I'm just saying, if you keep letting these dudes off the hook-" "Off the hook?!" "Like, you're stronger than this, Bea." Mae gestured wildly. "You're like... Badass, and shit!" Bea froze. "Y-you..." Bea slowly sat up, and rose to her full height. Fueled by anger, Mae stared Bea dead in the eye, stepping forward. Every inch of Bea seemed to be dripping with fury, outrage, and most surprisingly... hurt? Bea's temper was barely in check, and Mae could see her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. All of her features that had before seemed pretty, were now imposing. Her dark eyeshadow made her eyes look fierce, and cold. Her long painted nails brought on thoughts of metal screeching on a chalkboard. Her half shaven head, and the little knobs of black hair bunched up at the back stopped being cool, and started being foreign, and odd. It's amazing how different things seem when you look through a different perspective. "Badass?" Her voice was trembling now. "My mom dying was not very 'badass'." "Me sitting in this tiny, mess of a room complaining is not very 'badass'." Her voice cracked, and she gritted her teeth. Tears were glinting in Bea's eyes, and Mae's fury and delusion began dissipating on the spot. "I... Okay, sorry, I-" "Your are such a shithead, you know that?" "What the hell?" Nope, never mind. It was back. "You don't get it, Mae. Most people can't just get up and 'choose' to do whatever it is you decree to be the right thing! Because they /can't/ do anything else!" "You can /always/ choose." "Choose what?" Bea's voice was scathing. "No, tell me. What is my choice here?" "Tell your dad you're not gonna take this!" Mae shouted. Really, it was surprising he hadn't heard them screaming already. "Tell him what? What is your magic solution, that /I/ need to do?" Mae opened her mouth to respond, but Bea held up a hand, silencing her. "I am seriously gonna punch your goddamn lights out." Bea didn't break eye contact, but her voice lost some of its wrath, exhaustion overlaying her tone. "You come in here and start telling me how /I'm/ screwing things up? You want to come in here and say, 'Oh yeah, just ditch your dad, who is both getting old, and can barely get off the couch half the time'? You want to come in here and say, 'Oh yeah, just start this big drama, and make your life way more stressful?'" "It's just not right is what I'm saying!" Mae said, ignoring the guilt prickling over her. "Yeah. It isn't. Nothing's right. The whole effing world isn't right. Like Gregg is probably off doing /God knows/ what wacky shit right now, and I'm here making an awful dinner and doing payroll. You know, like, /nothing/ about my life. You just know what I should do." Mae bit the inside of her cheek. "And you- you're the last person I'd ask for advice." Bea said. Mae finally looked away, staring down at the musty, worn carpet. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry." Bea's voice was raspy, and tired. "Yeah, you're sorry. Everyone's sorry. But you don't get it. You did what you wanted. You threw away the thing that I've always wanted- that I've dreamt about for years. And now you're here, waltzing in and telling me I should do the same with my life. But I can't, Mae. I have responsibilities. This is it for me. This is all I have, and I can't just walk away from it." Mae looked up, and Bea looked like a hollow shell of herself. Eyes tired, posture weary, face drawn, and sad. "I should go." Mae whispered. "You should go." And with that, Mae departed from the tiny, rundown house, and walked home. ------------------------------------------ ((I wanted to add another scene in here, one that wasn't included in the real bit, but idk what to do???? bc rn its basically a rewrite, with added dialogue and emotion and monologue??? if u have any thoughts let me kno!))