#and hopefully probably I'll be living somewhere else by then

[florida3exclamationpoints]

My dad is really seriously planning this trip to Washington in the summer of 2026 I'm !!!!! Gonna see orcas !!!!!

[roosterforme]

Old Habits Die Hard Part 3 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley both seem startled by the way you feel about each other. And then Bradley makes a bold statement without saying anything.

Warnings: Angst, swears, sex

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (fuckboy college student Bradley)

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You ran down the stairs, not sure why you had been dumb enough to look for Bradley tonight in the first place. He wasn't for you. And you should know better. But those kisses... it had all been pretty innocent, but you were ready to start unzipping his jeans. 

But he was taken whether he wanted to admit it or not. Phoebe was everywhere. And it looked like she certainly wasn't the only one he was sleeping with, according to his door. He could flirt with you all he wanted, but he didn't get to have you, too. 

You rushed into the living room and Jeff immediately spotted you. "Damn, took you a while to find the kitchen?" he asked jokingly. 

You laughed it off, taking Jeff's hand. His eyes immediately went wide as he cautiously laced his fingers with yours. "Hey, I'm actually feeling really tired, and I think Janessa wants to stay longer. Can you walk me home?"

"Of course," Jeff replied, leading you toward the door. "I'd be happy to." 

He walked you the few blocks to your apartment, even letting you wear his hoodie when you started to shiver. You were embarrassed about kissing Bradley. Just mortified inside. He was not a good idea.

The last thing you thought about before you pulled Jeff in for a goodnight kiss was Bradley's door and all the names. So you kissed Jeff hard and slid your tongue along his lips until he opened his mouth to let you taste him. He tasted like beer, and he was using so much tongue now, you wanted to gag. He caressed your cheek and stabbed your mouth with his tongue before you pulled away. Because that was the worst kiss of your life. 

And the fact that you knew how expertly Bradley could kiss you undoubtedly made Jeff's kiss even worse. 

"You should come to the house again tomorrow night," Jeff whispered with his hand on your hip as you backed slowly up to your front door.

"Uh, maybe," you mumbled. "I'll think about it." You unlocked your door and squeezed yourself inside. "Thanks for walking me home."

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

Bradley took a minute to turn his phone off before following you down the stairs. He didn't know how to explain to you that he'd rather be with you than Phoebe or anyone else any day of the week. You were different. He liked talking to you. Being around you made him feel good. 

But as soon as he saw you taking Jeff's hand in yours, he felt the urge to punish himself by drinking a bottle of vodka. He watched you leave the house with Jeff, and he turned toward the kitchen.

Bradley made the rounds, chatted with some guys from the frats and flirted with some girls, all while he sipped from a bottle of Smirnoff. Hopefully he would be able to pass out before he called Phoebe back. A small part of him recognized that she was probably at the party somewhere, but he wasn't sure he wanted to see her right now.

As soon as he had polished off a third of the bottle of vodka, he started to pity himself. He knew better than to drink like this. He hadn't done this since July, when he had broken the table and ended up in the emergency room. He hadn't had any hard liquor since Chase got kicked out of the fraternity. Since the other guys started to carry around a grudge against Bradley. 

Then he was distracted from his feelings; Jeff had returned and he looked so smug. Bradley should be the one looking smug right now. He should still have you up in his room, still be kissing you, maybe even be fucking you by now. 

But instead he was listening to Jeff and some of his other fraternity brothers talking about you. "She was feeling tired, so I didn't want to invite myself in, but I just made out with her," Jeff said with the most obnoxious smile. And he made a point to look right at Bradley as he said it. "She's a good kisser," Jeff added, sending a smirk in his direction.

Bradley deserved this. Even though he had kissed you first, you picked Jeff. And Jeff wasn't wrong; you were a fucking great kisser. Kind of timid and shy, but still so hot, so sweet. Like sugar. 

Bradley took a huge sip of vodka, and staggered a bit in Jeff's direction. "She's sweet," Bradley said. "So sweet."

Jeff just looked at him with pity in his eyes. Because suddenly Phoebe was there, draping her arms around Bradley. 

"There you are! I've been calling you all night," she purred. Bradley tried to pull away, but her hands were on his chest and she was kissing his neck. He didn't like it when she touched his scars. "Let's go upstairs. I'm not even wearing underwear. Should still be easy for you even if you're drunk," she whispered, giggling next to his ear. She took his hand and guided it up her short dress.

Bradley wanted to tell her no. He tried so hard, even though he was wasted now. But she backed him into the hallway with her hand rubbing his dick through his pants. He was thinking about you though. You made him hard without touching him. You made him hard when he thought about you and imagined your voice.

"Come on, Bradley. I can see you're fucked up. I'll do all the work," Phoebe promised in a patronizing tone. Bradley didn't want to be alone, so he let her guide him up the stairs. She took his clothes off and got on all fours on his bed. He could see her pussy, and even through his drunkenness, he tried to fight it. But he couldn't. This was too easy. Too familiar. 

He rolled a condom down his length and fucked her until he came, gasping for air as he thought about you.

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

Bradley must have passed out on top of his bedding. His head was pounding as he tried to open his eyes. He knew he wasn't alone, but he couldn't remember who was with him. 

Oh, but he'd been kissing Sugar. That was the last thing he could remember. Yes, you must still be here. He would feel better after he heard your voice again.

"I'm going to change into some of your clothes to sleep. It's cold in here." Phoebe. He was with Phoebe. That was Phoebe's voice.

"Fuck," Bradley groaned, standing up. The room was spinning, but he could still see the condom wrapper next to the bed. "No."

"What is wrong with you?" Phoebe asked as she rooted around in his drawers looking for a shirt. "You are acting so weird."

Bradley cleared his throat and looked at her naked backside. "I want you to leave."

She spun around to face him. "Excuse me?"

"Please, Phoebe. I want to be alone."

"What is your problem, Bradley? You know, I could go fuck any of your fraternity brothers, and they would be begging me to stay with them."

"Phoebe," he groaned, rubbing his throbbing head. 

"What's this about? Because you know I don't even care when you decide you feel like sleeping around. That doesn't matter to me. So let's just go to sleep and talk in the morning."

"Just go!" he begged. "Please, Phoebe. I need to be alone."

"Fuck you, Bradley," she said, pulling her tiny dress back on and storming out. Of course Bradley caught sight of his door before she slammed it shut. 

He flopped down onto his bed, cradling his head in his hands. He'd thought about you again. He'd thought about you the entire time he'd been in here with Phoebe. He had tried to convince himself you never left with Jeff. 

Bradley knew this was fucked up. And he would have given anything to have his mom back. He didn't know who else he could even talk to about this shit. Even if he could manage to get you to kiss him again, you weren't just a regular hookup. You were different. And he needed you to want to kiss him again, because you were all he could think about. He really wished Jeff would just fuck off and leave you alone. 

But it was Bradley's fault that you left. For some reason, he always went back to Phoebe. Maybe it was because she didn't care about his face, or because she already knew he was fucked up. But Bradley didn't feel so fucked up when he was with you. Now he was afraid his dependence on Phoebe was going to cost him. He needed you to know that Phoebe wasn't a threat. Nobody was. As he started to pass out again, a plan came together in his mind.

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

You were still trying to wash the feeling of Jeff off of your mouth the next morning when you brushed your teeth. Why had you done that? You didn't even want him now. And you'd managed to put your bad kiss with Jeff at the font of your mind in place of your amazing kiss with Bradley. 

When you thought about Bradley's fingers gliding across your skin, you could have moaned. It just felt that good. Then you scowled. You didn't need a boyfriend, but you also didn't need a one and done hookup either. And that was likely all you would get from him. Why was he even flirting with you? He didn't need you for a good time. He'd been leading you on while he had Phoebe and who knows who else calling his phone. 

So you let yourself enjoy a lazy Saturday morning where your mantra was Guys Suck. You worked on some math questions, occasionally singing a little song you made up about how men were scum. Then you made a grilled cheese sandwich and took a long walk, still humming along to your song. 

You felt much better by that evening when Janessa came home to change before going back to Tyson's room for another night. 

"Come back with me," Janessa whined. "We can hang out together at the Beta house tonight. Drink all of their beer instead of our own."

You rolled your eyes but smiled. "You expect me to believe you won't immediately ditch me for Tyson?"

Then she smirked. "Well... I heard you made out with Jeff, so how do I know you won't ditch me for him?"

You gaped at her. "How did you hear about that?"

"Jeff practically made a public service announcement about it last night after he walked you home. He was telling all the guys about it."

Your heart was pounding, and you felt sick. "Was Bradley there? When Jeff said that?"

"Yeah, he was. And he got fucking trashed last night after that."

"He did?" you whispered. You couldn't stand the thought of Bradley knowing you had kissed Jeff after you had kissed him. "Oh."

"Just come with me. We can hang out, and then you can see Jeff."

You chewed on your bottom lip. "I need to take Jeff's hoodie back anyway, but I'm not staying long."

So you ended up at the Beta house, but you went right to the kitchen in search of Bradley. He wasn't there. You doubled back down the hallway and found Janessa again. 

"Have you seen Bradley?" you asked her, running your fingers along Jeff's hoodie in your hands. 

She shook her head. "No, but I did see Phoebe just now. She would probably know where he is. Oh, there she goes."

You turned to look where Janessa was pointing, and you gasped. Phoebe was stunning. Tall and blonde with bright eyes and just the right amount of curves. She was wearing a tiny skirt, and she looked pissed off. You watched her storm up the stairs that led to the bedrooms on the second floor. 

Janessa was distracted by Tyson again, so you crept along the hallway and started up the stairs as well. You lied to yourself, pretending you just intended to leave Jeff's hoodie outside his door. But of course you were now eavesdropping on Bradley and Phoebe. You froze before you reached the top of the stairs, because their conversation was loud. Bradley sounded angry. You'd never heard his voice like this before. You were used to him being soft and raspy, but now he was close to yelling. 

"Phoebe, you can't just keep coming over after I don't answer your calls!"

"Oh please, Bradley. It barely took any coaxing last night after you saw what I was wearing! I figured your phone battery had died or something."

There was a pause before Bradley said, "I was wasted last night. I didn't even remember what we did until I woke up."

"So a normal night for you then?" Phoebe asked with venom, and you really hated her voice. 

"Phoebe, I haven't been drinking as much, and you know it. I've been trying... since July."

"Then why did you get blasted last night?" she asked a little softer this time.

Another pause, and now Bradley's voice was quieter, so you crept up to the top of the steps, closer to his open door. "You want me to be honest with you? I don't think we should spend time together anymore. I don't think we should be calling each other for hookups. It's not a good idea now."

"Fine," she agreed, but she didn't sound like she was fine with it. "But if this is why you painted your door today, then you can just go fuck yourself. I don't care who she is, there's no way she's as good as I am in bed."

You were standing at the top of the stairs as Phoebe slammed his door closed and stormed down the hallway. She barely glanced in your direction as she descended the stairs in a huff. You continued toward Bradley's room, dropping off Jeff's hoodie on the way. 

When you saw Bradley's door, you froze in shock. It had been freshly painted a clean, glossy white. All of the names, including Phoebe's, had been covered up entirely. But your lips curled into a surprised smile as you read what was now written across his door. You recognized Bradley's handwriting from flipping through his notebooks, and he had apparently taken a black sharpie to his pristine door after painting it. 

SUGAR

what's your number?

You were smiling so much, it would have been mortifying if Bradley opened his door and found you there. He had told Phoebe to get out. He had covered up all the names and phone numbers. He had asked you for yours. 

Maybe he was still thinking about kissing you. Maybe he'd let you explain that you were one hundred percent not interested in Jeff.  

You raised your fist and knocked. 

"Phoebe, seriously! I just want to be alone!" he yelled through the door.

You backed away slowly, now unsure of yourself. You chewed on your lip and then spotted the sharpie marker sitting on the floor next to the door. Before you could change your mind, you wrote your phone number just below the note Bradley had left for you. 

This was a game. At least right now it was. He'd put the ball in your court, and now you'd put it back in his. You capped the marker and took it with you. No way you wanted anyone else writing on his door, especially not before Bradley saw it for himself. 

Maybe he would text or call you. You hoped he would. You looked at Jeff's sweatshirt on the floor in front of his door and tried to sneak out of the house before he saw you. 

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

Bradley woke up on Sunday morning with a clear head after having had nothing to drink and nobody stay over with him the previous night. He felt amazing. He stretched out in bed, his morning wood tenting the sheet as he closed his eyes and let his hand drift down his body to grasp his cock. 

He thought about you. It was all you. He smiled as he jerked himself off, thinking about your lips on his, remembering how you used his name instead of his nickname. He came all over his own abs, wishing you were with him. He just stayed there, sprawled out for a few minutes before he stood to get cleaned up. 

Bradley had been hoping you'd stop by again last night. He'd been reeling since he learned you kissed Jeff right after you'd been kissing him. But he liked you a lot. And he could tell you liked him even though you thought you'd be better off with Jeff. 

He'd get you straightened out. 

He grabbed a clean towel and headed to the bathroom, but the door was locked. He knocked and heard Tyson and Janessa both respond from inside. 

"Don't make a mess!" Bradley yelled. "I just cleaned in there!"

With a sigh, he turned back toward his room, already thinking he'd probably want to wipe down the surfaces when they were done in the bathroom. 

"Holy shit," he whispered when he saw the outside of his door. You must have been to the house last night. Either that or someone else was playing a prank on him. He grabbed his phone from his deck and saved the phone number as Sugar in his contacts. While he was in there, he deleted all of the names and numbers of the girls who he didn't even know. That left just a handful of people he cared about, but that was fine, because he was already texting you now.

Then he sat on the edge of his bed with his towel and waited, his morning shower completely forgotten. Because you wrote back.

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

You were eating breakfast when Bradley texted you. 

Sugar, is that really you?

You smiled and squealed as you responded.

Beer Boy, is that really you?

You paced around, waiting for him to write back.

It's me. I wish you hadn't run out on Friday night. Do you like my door?

"Oh my God," you whispered out loud as you wrote back to him.

I do. Are you planning on adding more names?

He wrote back immediately. 

No.

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

The door!! OMG!!! Thanks for reading, please leave me some love! And thank you to @mak-32 for helping me make this fic a reality. This is for you, Mak!

PART 4

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[montammil]

June of Doom Day 3 - "Well, well, well..."

| Hiding | Ambushed | Stalking |

Characters: Lawrence, Marshall

CW: Parental/yandere whumper, failed escape, manipulation, forming stockholm syndrome, minor injuries, infantilization

...

Marshall didn't know how he managed to do it, it was probably just pure luck on his side, but he managed to slip out of the house while Lawrence was asleep.

It was the perfect time to finally run away, especially since the older man would be groggy and confused in the morning. And hopefully by then, he'd be long gone from Lawrence's clutches.

The rain beat down on him for hours, but he didn't take shelter or more than a five minute break.

He needed to get as far as he could from Lawrence before the sun rose. Marshall shoved his hands deeper in his pockets to protect them from the icy cold, feeling the water seep through the thin fabric of his shirt.

This was a bad idea, a really bad idea.

But if it meant his freedom, he'd suffer through anything. He'd endure any torture to escape him.

He had no money, no way of getting any, and nowhere to stay for the night. Everything was dependent on a miracle now. It wasn't the smartest plan, but he had to take advantage of the only window of opportunity he was given. As long as Lawrence couldn't find him, he'd be fine. He could figure everything else out in time. Maybe he'd get a job, go back to school, start fresh somewhere else...

Despite his excitement, his heart weighed him down with guilt. He really shouldn't be abandoning Lawrence after everything he's done for him.

The blond loved him more than anything, and he betrayed that love by running.

Yet this was for the best, he told himself. It's the only way he'd be able to live his own life independently. And that's what he wanted.

Or so he insisted to himself.

It was past sunrise when he noticed a tiny gas station ahead of him. He rubbed his arms to bring some warmth to his skin. He was hungry, cold, and exhausted, which was an awful combination to have.

The rain had eased up to a slight drizzle, which provided little relief from the frigid weather. He trudged along, trying his best not to get hypothermia.

"I need help," he breathed to the man at the front, who only looked the slightest bit concerned. "Do you, um, have a phone? It's urgent."

The man opened his mouth, and then paused to look him over. "Sorry, only employees can use the phone. Do you want me to call someone for you?"

Marshall was baffled from his reply, but he didn't have time to get angry right now. He didn't want the police involved, he just wanted a ride to get out of here. He was glad he memorized his father's number--his real father--and gave it to the worker. He made a hand gesture for him to go sit down on one of the chairs a few feet away, and he reluctantly obeyed.

He noticed the man's voice was almost hushed, but he made out the words, "your kid is here", so he relaxed. He stared up at the clock above the counter, watching the seconds tick by.

He bounced his leg to keep himself from nodding off. His eyelids felt like a thousand pounds, threatening to close.

All he wanted to do was sleep. Sleep and forget about all this bullshit.

Marshall didn't know how much time had passed, but then he saw a familiar car pull up at the gas station, but it wasn't his dad's car.

Lawrence got out of the car, looking every part of pissed. He was dressed in nothing but a sweater and sweats, obviously not prepared to come out here.

The blond stormed inside the shop. Marshall straightened and gulped, wanting to shrink back further into the chair.

The bell rang loudly over their heads. "Well, well, well," Lawrence seethed. He stood in front of Marshall, glaring down at him. His body trembled. "Where did you think you were going, hmm?" He reached down and grabbed his wrist. Marshall squeaked in protest. Lawrence glanced over at the employee. "Thanks, Colin, I'll take it from here."

Colin nodded. Lawrence pulled him up, who fought him the entire way. He was frozen, unable to form a single word as he dragged him outside.

Marshall managed to squeeze his wrist out of Lawrence's grip and staggered backwards. Lawrence stepped towards him in attempt to grab him again, and Marshall's hand acted on its own, punching him right in the jaw.

A few painful moments went by before the reality of the situation hit him. Lawrence cupped his chin, rubbing his sore jaw. Marshall covered his mouth with his hand. That was probably a bigger death wish than running in the first place.

When Lawrence growled, somehow more rage evident in his eyes, Marshall bolted to the nearby trees.

He ran as fast as he could, ignoring his body's protests against the exhaustion. His head ached, his lungs burned, his muscles throbbed...but all he could focus on was his impending doom.

He jumped over bushes and logs, dodging branches and rocks as they flew by. The thudding of Lawrence's shoes followed him from behind.

At one point, Marshall tripped over a branch hidden beneath the leaves. He screamed as he went down, clutching his ankle in pain. He could feel blood trickling down his cheek as he turned, spotting Lawrence stalking forward. Marshall got back to his feet and ran again, screaming when the pain shot through his ankle once he put pressure on it.

There was no winning this race. He wasn't fast enough or strong enough. This was always how it'd end.

He ducked behind a tree and crouched low behind the bushes. He listened to the sounds of the forest, hearing Lawrence call his name. Marshall wrapped his arms around his knees and hugged his legs to his chest.

"This isn't funny, sweetie! Just come home already, it's too dangerous out here."

Yeah right, Marshall thought. It was safer out here than being with him.

"Marshmallow!" Lawrence sang. He sounded more gentle now. Lawrence knew how to get to him. Nathan responded best to his anger, Sadie responded to his worry, and Marshall responded to softness. "If you come out, we can just go home and talk this over. We'll watch a movie and snuggle, I'll even let you pick. We can make a blanket fort and have some hot cocoa. And I won't be mad, I promise."

His head throbbed. His stomach dropped as he heard the crunch of Lawrence's footsteps getting closer. It's been so long since he's heard anything other than his voice.

"You know," Lawrence continued, "it isn't very nice to hit me. I'm willing to let it go since I know you were just scared, but only if you come out right now."

Lawrence knew how to play him like an instrument. Each sentence was calculated and precise, knowing exactly what buttons to press.

Logically, Marshall knew he could only hide here for so long. Lawrence knew he was in the area and he wouldn't back off until he found him. He'd rather just give up now than prolong this agony.

He wiped his eyes, the fear spiking each second he waited. Finally, he called out, "I-I'm over here!"

Lawrence found him crouched next to a large pine tree. The moment his eyes met the older man, the tears poured down. He could hear Lawrence sigh with relief. He bent down on one knee.

"Oh, kiddo, there you are." He pulled him into his arms. Marshall tried pushing against his chest to get away, but Lawrence's embrace tightened. He choked on a sob. Lawrence cooed to him, rocking him in his arms. "Shh, you're alright, don't cry. It's okay, I got you now. Let's get out of here, okay? You must be freezing."

"Are you mad at me?" he croaked. He pulled away and cried harder when he saw the forming bruise on his face that would no doubt look much worse later. He had no idea he was capable of such strength, and neither did Lawrence.

"I'm not mad. You listened to me, so there's gonna be no punishment, I promise," Lawrence told him. He cupped his cheek to bring their eyes together. "I've just never been more worried. What if something happened to you? Did you ever think about that?" Marshall remained silent. Lawrence sighed. "We're going home. And then we'll talk about it more after we get you warmed up and that ankle taken care of."

It was useless to argue. He let the blond carry him to the car and closed his tired eyes. It was times like these that Marshall started to wonder if Lawrence was really that bad.

[thegainingdesk]

I've been hovering between 36" and 38" trousers for a little while. I've noticed this past week that my trousers were getting uncomfortable every time I wore them, but for the life of me I couldn't find any of my 38s. A couple of pairs were definitely in the wash, but I knew for a fact there's at least one clean pair somewhere. Whatever, they're pinching but I'll live in these 36s for a while and just be glad that I've officially, unequivocally made the transition up a size.

I actually bothered checking the label today. These are my 38s. My 36s won't just be "pinching", they're completely out of the question. And I don't want to say "I wear 40" waist trousers" if I've not actually tried them on, but... I mean, I'd better buy a couple of pairs, right? Should I pick up a pair of 42s? For that inevitable moment?

There's something so utterly visceral about outgrowing clothes. The increasing tightness against your growing body, contrasting with the blessed relief, the comfortable looseness once you size-up - and knowing, knowing, that soon you'll fill up all that extra space too, that soon these clothes will be the ones that are too tight, too restricting, too small, ready for the process to repeat.

Maybe, to some extent it's because it's so much easier to compare clothing sizes - weights are tricky. I see someone the same weight as me and I think how much bigger they look, or how my gut is rounder, or my thighs are softer, or their moobs bigger . Clothes sizes are official - we wear the same size, we fill the same volume. You're still in 36s? Ah, shame, I've just bought a pair of 40s.

Over the summer I went on a short holiday with friends. At one point, me and one of my closest friends were just lounging about on the sofa in our pyjamas, half-asleep, Wimbledon on in the background while everyone was out. We both sort-of woke up at about the same point, and he made a little comment about my shirt riding up. I tried to tug my shirt down and he just laughed because clearly it wasn't working. Now, this friend is straight, but we're close, he's made some jokes about my weight gain, he's at least semi-aware that I at least don't mind the added weight (a story for a different time), so he doesn't particularly mind my gut sticking out a touch, but he says I should probably put on something a bit more covering before everyone else is back.

And as I'm changing I realise that I was wearing a large t-shirt. Now, at the time I was sort of between L and XL - both worked, I could tell L's were getting a little restrictive, and I had a desired trajectory towards adding some X's, so my wardrobe was a bit of a mix of the two, but up until that point, large shirts had definitely fit. All of a sudden, they're not just a little tight, or I can feel the difference or whatever, they're indecently small - literally, someone had just told me to change to make myself decent. And that's a large; it's in the name, right? It's not huge but it's large. Larger than average. Larger than most people.

And this friend is a lot smaller than me - he wears small and medium shirts. All of a sudden I'm realising that this shirt, the shirt I'd just outgrown, that I'll never fit into again, would be way too big for him. I'm not just bigger than him, I'm bigger than people who are bigger than him. If he asks me to borrow a shirt, I have to apologise for how my old, too-tight shirt from the back of my wardrobe will be too big for him, but it'll work in a pinch. I ask him if I can borrow a shirt and I'll burst out of it like a scene from one of my stories.

Better buy some 2XL's ready for the next time he has to make a comment like that. Some 42s as well. Hopefully I'll be in them before Wimbledon rolls round again.

[pentacentric]

I probably think way too much about how very little Sam knew about Mary. How John and Dean gave him almost nothing, to the point that she wasn't even really like a ghost shadowing his life, more like the story of one overheard in bits and pieces over the years. And yet, his whole life from when he can first remember—every bit of motivation or guilt, every point of pride or shame—is built around his mother, this person he isn't allowed to know.

I've written a lot of bits and pieces about it before, but never a standalone. This is actually an excerpt from a longer story, but I modified it some and I think it works on its own, hopefully (he knows about hunting already but that's really the only canon difference).

..........................

When Sam's in fourth grade, and has to write a page about his favorite memory, he asks for Dean's help. All he can seem to dredge up at the moment is just too weird or too farfetched. Things that say far too much about the way they live for a teacher to read.

So he asks Dean what he would write about.

After some teasing about his best memories being of all the times Sam's embarrassed himself (and a well-aimed pink rubber eraser hitting him between the eyes) Dean quiets down and turns thoughtful.

"Well, I dunno what my most favorite memory would be, really. I guess…" He bites his lip, chews on it for a second, gaze directed absently into the distance. "I think it would prob'ly be my first memories? It musta been, like, when I was three and four maybe. They're…of Mom."

"Oh." Sam's chest gets a little tight. He speaks quietly, cautiously. Dean—Dean and Dad both—they don't talk about her much. Sam's seen her picture, the one that Dad keeps in his journal, a few times, but he knows so little about her. Just that she was pretty (beautiful), with a smile that reminds of him of Dean's and wavy blonde hair. "What was she—what are they like?"

Dean smiles, maybe a little sad, but it's more than that. Warm, wistful; gaze still unfocused and distant. "Mostly…happy. Like…bright. She'd sing to me a lot, and, like, I didn't know the songs back then, but, when I hear 'em now, I can hear her voice singing them. Beatles, Beach Boys, Simon and Garfunkel, um…Peter, Paul, and Mary, maybe…" Dean chuffs out a laugh. "I remember Puff the Magic Dragon, at least…I think I even remember Dad teasin' her about how she better sing me some real music, too, not just sissy crap, but, I dunno, maybe I made that up."

Dean pauses, that bittersweet expression on his face, still, and Sam doesn't want him to get lost in it. He also doesn't want to miss this opportunity, if he can help it.

"I dunno. He'd say somethin' like that." Dean spares him half a smile, still somewhere else in his head. "What…what else do you remember? What'd you guys do together?"

"Well, not a whole lot. I guess mostly just the normal stuff you do with a little kid. Like legos, I remember we'd build castles an' fortresses and stuff. I wanted her to build me a car but we didn't have enough black bricks, so she made me a little boat instead. Dad said it looked like a bathtub." He smiles. "Um, she'd dance with me, sometimes. To the radio. Make lunch—I mostly remember sandwiches and Mac n' Cheese. I'd sit in that little seat in the cart when she went to the grocery store, and she'd ask me what was on the list and I'd pretend I could read it and make up dumb stuff."

The silence is longer this time. Sam breathes out, carefully. "What kinda stuff?"

"I dunno. Just silly things, like 'elephant steaks!' Or 'a unicorn!' Or 'poop n' rhubarb pie!'"

"Gross." Sam wrinkles his nose.

Dean grins at that. "I think you're, like, the only kid ever who never found poop and fart jokes funny."

"'Cause they're not."

When Dean laughs, muttering little weirdo, Sam looks around for something harmless to throw at him, pouts.

"Don't worry, Sammy, if anyone wonders why you're so weird I'll just tell them it's 'cause you still poop your pants, and you're kinda sensitive about it an' all."

"Dean."

Sam decides that his pencil is perfectly fine to throw after all and, as a concession, doesn't aim it at his head. Dean grins, not seeming too annoyed by the assault, so Sam decides to push his luck.

"Did Mom think it was funny? Your lists?"

Dean's melancholy little smile is back. "Yeah…yeah, I think she did. She'd always laugh, anyways. An' she had the best laugh. I'd make up stuff that just got more and more ridiculous just so I could keep watchin' her laugh." He sighs, shrugs. "Anyways, yeah…that's Mom. That's what I remember."

It gets quiet after that, and Sam can see Dean's face starting to shutter over as he withdraws. It's rare for Sam to get to see his brother so open and unguarded any more. Over the last few years, Dean's started to change; Sam can tell. Still fun, still charming, still affectionate, at least with Sam (mostly when there's no one else around to catch him being so uncool). But, even though they're not always alike—Dean doesn't usually brood, rarely explodes, and he never gets that kind of burning cold John does when he's focused on something—sometimes now he kinda reminds Sam of Dad. He's been more closed off, the way Dad can be, his deeper emotions pushed farther away, out of Sam's reach. Doesn't show when things get to him, like he used to.

It's actually kind of lonely, sometimes.

"So, what are you gonna write about, Sammy?"

When Sam shrugs, Dean suggests the time they ran out of gas on a back road in central Florida. They'd only walked two miles before an Oscar Myer Wienermobile came barreling down the road, seemingly out of nowhere, and gave them a lift to and from the closest gas station (still a good eight miles away). Sam counters with the night in Montana that Dad got so drunk he started fighting with the motel owner about yetis (Dad coming down hard on the side of 'hoax'). They ended up getting kicked out at two am after Dad had cut down the guy’s “Bigfoot Crossing” sign with an axe. They toss back and forth increasingly ridiculous ideas until they're both laughing so hard they're in literal tears. When John comes back, they can't even stop long enough to answer what's so funny. Dad just smiles, bemused and fond, and shakes his head before heading off to shower.

Sam thinks maybe he can add this afternoon to his Good Memories pile.

In the end, he waits until that evening, before bed, and easily fills up a page-and-a-half about the time, last summer, when Dad was on a hunt out west and he and Dean had spent all afternoon exploring tidal pools in Yaquina Head, Oregon, marveling at the tiny little aquatic worlds they found. He invents an older teenage cousin that tagged along so the teacher won't question why two young kids spent the day alone in a national park.

He gets an A.

From then on, Sam keeps his eyes out in thrift stores for cassettes from the bands Dean mentioned; pockets them when he can to listen to later on the beat-up Walkman knock-off Dean stole for him for his sixth birthday. He likes a lot of it, but he's careful about what he keeps; only his favorites. He stashes them in the bottom of his school bag, in the hollowed-out book that Bobby showed him how to make last year, on a rainy day when Sam got bored with watching old Westerns.

For some reason, he doesn't want Dean to know about them. Doesn't want him to feel like Sam's trying to take something away from him. So he slips them in when he's sitting in the back of the Impala alone, on long trips, and closes his eyes. Lets the albums pour into his ears over the headphones; shuts the rest of the world out. Sgt Pepper's. Pet Sounds. Bookends. He tries to imagine his mom, Mary, singing the songs to him, in a sunny kitchen.

But he can never really pull together a complete image of her; just bits and pieces, blurred-together impressions: yellow hair, the smiling face from the picture (looking kind of flat, like a mask), a flowered dress he'd seen in a shop window. And he doesn't know what her voice sounded like, so it kind of just ends up being a composite of the voices of some of his favorite teachers (along with the mother of a classmate back in Indiana who drove him home once when she spotted him waiting for the rain to stop under the playground slide).

So he gives up on trying to picture her, and, instead, just tries to sink into the music, sees if he can feel what she was feeling when she listened to it. Imagines the conversations they might have: which songs would be her favorites, why she would have liked them, where she was the first time she heard them playing.

When he hears those songs on the radio now, or over the speakers in a restaurant, it makes him feel kind of happy and sad at the same time.

They remind him of her.

(Except for America—for some reason, that one makes him think of Dean.)

[max1461]

I think the straightforward truth is that literary criticism has value for the same reason video games or DnD or whatever have value: people enjoy them and that's enough. I don't buy the argument that lit crit is really vitally important for making the world a better place (except insofar as people want to do lit crit, so them getting to do it makes their lives better) or solving political problems or whatever.

Yes, you can complain that society spending its resources on lit crit is therefore immoral, because there are hungry people to feed instead. But of course if you were going to make this argument you would also have to complain about the immorality of spending our societal resources on video games and so on, which STEM nerd lit crit dislikers rarely seem to do, otherwise I think you're being hypocritical.

For my part I think that probably convincing people to give up all their worldly pleasures to help the poor is not feasible, and in light of that it's cool that lit crit and video games and so on exist, because people like those things. And ideally enough progress can be made in uplifting the poor (either within or without our current economic system) that these kinds of trade-offs become a memory of the distant past, and I'll be able to endorse frivolous public funding of the humanities or million dollar blockbuster video games or whatever with no caveats. Because I'm not that worried about optimization, and as long as all the mouths are fed I don't care so much about society "wasting money" on fun.

At present I can probably only endorse these things provisionally and selfishly: first off I like video games, and I like reading media analysis, so I'm glad they exist. And second off, it's not like the money that goes to humanities departments would be going to feed the global poor anyway, it would be going somewhere else which I'd naively wager would be either equally frivolous in this narrow sense (pure math, econ, paleontology) or actively harmful (weapons development). Maybe not, who knows. Anyway I'm not terribly aggrieved that it's going to the humanities instead. If the alternative really was feeding starving people I would support that in a heartbeat, but it isn't.

And, as I said, hopefully in the socialist future we'll be able to waste all the money on humanities and non-essential sciences and cool video games that we want. One can dream.

[magnetarmadda]

For the last day of @tmaappreciationweek, I've done a Somewhere Else statement fic! It's okay, it's a happy ending 💜

[CLICK]

[MUFFLED MEOWS, MORE DISTINCT PURRING, FOOTSTEPS]

[VOICES INCREASING IN VOLUME]

JON

[excitedly] Martin, look at this one!

MARTIN

Jon, you've said that about the last four cats we've looked at!

JON

But this one is perfect!

[FOND LAUGHTER]

MARTIN

If you say so, love.

[SOFT MEOW]

JON

[quietly] You're so soft, and oh so fluffy. [louder] I think his fur is almost the same color as your hair.

MARTIN

[sighing fondly] We're taking him home then, are we?

[LOUD PURRING]

[FOOTSTEPS]

SHELTER EMPLOYEE

Oh, I see you found our newest residents!

JON AND MARTIN

[together] Residents?

SHELTER EMPLOYEE

Yep! They're a bonded pair. The orange cat is usually in front, hiding the black cat. The black cat, poor guy, looks like he's been through a few alley wars. But it's a good sign the orange one likes you—we've been calling him Marmalade, and the black cat Blackberry, one of our kid volunteers was on a toast-themed naming kick that weekend.

[LAUGHTER]

SHELTER EMPLOYEE

I know, I know. They don't yet seem very attached to those names, though, so you'll be able to change them fairly easily. I'm Tabitha, by the way—I'm just going to clean some of the kitten cages while they're out in the day room. Let me know if you need anything!

MARTIN

[distracted] Thanks. 

[PAUSE]

MARTIN

Is it just me, or does the shadow in the back have eyes?

JON

[snorting] That's probably Blackberry. Oh, Martin! He's coming toward us! Quick, put your fingers by the bars.

MARTIN

Yes, dear.

JON

No need to be rude in front of the cats.

[SNORTING]

[PAUSE]

MARTIN

[softly, full of concern] He's very skinny, and it looks like there's spots where his fur isn't quite growing right. 

JON

[equally soft] Just means we'll have to give him lots of love.

MARTIN

Well, we know you have plenty of that to go round.

[FABRIC RUSTLES]

MARTIN

H-hey! Careful there! Shoving me made Blackberry here unhappy.

JON

[muttering] Blackberry. [louder] We need to find them new names.

[LOUD MEOWING]

JON

[laughing] I think they agree.

MARTIN

So, we're taking them home? 

JON

[happily] Yeah, we are. 

MARTIN

I'll go get Tabitha, see what paperwork we have to do. Then I'll go get the carrier from the car. Hopefully, they'll let us get away with the one, since I wasn't expecting two cats. [voice gets softer] Although I probably should have, knowing you.

JON

He's a lot of bluster, don't worry. He's very happy with you both, too, I know. 

[RUMBLING]

JON

Tim will have a field day, though. I don't know how I'm going to live this one down, not on top of him being right about Martin and I hitting it off on a blind date. [laughing] It's been four years, you think he'd let it go. 

[MEOWING]

JON

Marmalade, you haven't even met Tim yet! Sasha will love you, though, she's always wanted a fluffy cat. Oh, and Georgie will be so jealous—she's still sad the Admiral never got as fluffy as she thought he would when he was a kitten.

[SOFTER, CROAKY MEOW]

JON

Why, hello there Blackberry. Yes, I'm more than happy to scratch your ears with my other hand. Four hands in our house means plenty of pets, that's for sure. And since both of our jobs have stayed work-from-home, there's lots of time for cuddling. Oh, well, you both seem quite good at that already. It's very sweet of you to clean Blackberry's head, Marmalade.

[CROAKY MEOW, RUMBLING]

[FOOTSTEPS COMING BACK]

JON

We really will need to give you better names. Don't worry, I've got a list—you'll just have to meow to tell me which ones you like. Sound fair?

[MEOWING]

MARTIN

Convincing them to go along with your plans already? Hardly fair, love.

[MUFFLED KISS]

JON

You know they'll love you more than me anyway. I've got to gain an advantage somehow.

[OFFENDED MEOW]

[LAUGHTER]

[FOOTSTEPS]

TABITHA

Ready to take these guys home?

JON

Absolutely.

TABITHA

Great! Let's get that paperwork done.

MARTIN

We'll be right back, and then, home.

[FOOTSTEPS RECEDE]

[RUMBLING, TWO SOFT MEOWS]

[CLICK]

[accio-victuuri]

5/27 candy round-up : fan-meet clues, denying drama rumors and everything else. 💋

happy saturday! it’s time for some treats care of mostly wyb @ chunzhen fan meet. it has really been some time since he did one of these. hopefully, he does more before he gets stuck in filming his new movie. we will be getting a new endorsement from him tomo so that’s one to look forward to!

sharing the compilations link of media from today’s event both from cpf & solo fansites!

moving on to the candies…. ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

• The most obvious and probably in your face with today’s event is WYB’s look. Aside from the 🦴 necklace chain peeking from time to time and how his hair brings us back to 2019 WYB. The clothes remind us of that striped top he wore in the l’oreal event where he drew the heart with a mole. It’s also maison kitsune, a brand that ZZ wore in a live event recently too. The glasses for his photoshoot also brings us back to WB night 2020. These things could all mean nothing but to us, it brings back memories. The glasses are particularly sus, cause while i do think it may have something to do with his HK glasses endorsement, i don’t see it on their site as a style he is endorsing currently. It surprised a lot ( if not all ) of the fans cause why is he suddenly 🤓??

2. The Camping CPN is at it again. I don’t usually follow other artists so idk if other mention this too specifically but it’s so interesting how these two decided to pick it up at the same time. Or is this some sort of trend in China too? Either way, during the fan meet he said that he does Camp during his breaks. Plus he mentioned that he did go camping somewhere close to the beach.

He also said something that confused people, when they were talking about “moving camping” and wyb explained it’s like moving your house to the camp because of how one brings a lot of things. the he says: “it means he likes to moves many things...a lot of things...then..” so who is he? why so specific as he? Do you camp with someone who brings a lot of things it’s as good as bringing his house along? I don’t wanna judge XZ lol. cause when we see him, he prefers small bags so you would think he’s okay with not carrying too much. but i also have the feeling that ZZ would bring a lot just to be “ready” when they go camping.

3. When choosing the number for the lucky fans, he picked zone A row 2 number 30 and then when he was asked to change it cause there is no #30, he picked row 3 number 20. 2 & 3. His favorite numbers. This is not new, even @ summer surf shop this was noticed. It’s nice to see that it didn’t change. 23 ( Ai Zhan / Love Zhan )

4. As for some food CPN, WYB said again that he can’t cook and that he can only prepare simple dishes. One day, we will know what these are. I’m thinking he’s being humble about it and if he says he “can cook” people may expect more complicated dishes.

When “spiced beef ( or sauced beef ) was mentioned, he smiled. here is the reference to that if you don’t get it.

In one segment of the show, he was mixing fruits with the yogurt drink and he was asked why he chose lychee. He said it’s because he likes it and likes to freeze it to eat. This reminded cpfs of an LRLG post that said WYB peeled lychees for XZ. It’s so specific of a fruit and then it gets “confirmed” like this!

Xiao laoshi thinks the lychees are too high in calories and doesn’t eat them, but Wang laoshi has already peeled them.

WYB: "Didn't you say you wanted to eat it a few days ago?" Brother X specially went to buy it for you."

🧔‍♂️: “The owner of the stall said that this batch is sweet, try it."

XZ: “Then I'll take it later”

WYB: “Eat later”

• WYB shared about what does when camping and he said what he does is drink coffee. “yes, space out, finish the coffee, and then make another cup, then drink again.”

someone please get him a coffee endorsement! hahahahaha! and the commercial for it will be a scene like this. i really feel for him cause with the statement today from yuehua, this is really a way for him to relax. to camp somewhere quiet and just chill. where no one is following & harassing him.

anyway, it’s cool to see him loving coffee now when in the past he wasn’t seen much drinking it. but at the time of cql filming, xz was the one who loved coffee. is this another way of them adapting each other’s likes?

• While talking about Qingdao ( where the fan meet is taking place ) he was asked if he went there before.. and he stopped and replied, they know better than me. and like he doesn’t even know sometimes what city he is flying to. CPN is that he didn’t want to say when he last went to QD. that’s because there were some talks before that he visited the ADLAD cast ( XZ ) in QD. 🤫

but this could also be him calling out the sisheng fans who “knows” his itinerary and private schedule. 💀💀💀💀💀

There is a new fake story about XZ collecting blind box figures and he complained to WLS that he cannot seem to complete the set he wants. So WLS helped him get it all. This is the set he allegedly wanted :

based on the drama empresses in the palace.

=====================================

The second part of this is Patrick ( XZ counterfeiting account ) refuting the rumors of a drama collab between XZ & Y@ngzi. Whether the account is purely a fan account with contact to XZS or WJJW. An XZS employee or a WJJW employee, the sus part here is how quickly this rumor was denied in XZ’s part. There are so many drama and movie melons coming out and putting XZ’s name on it and they don’t address it. If they do, it’s not as quick as this. 30 minutes from when that melon account rumor started getting traction.

This “speed” of denial is not new, some artists / fan accounts do this too ( like ZLY fan when she was rumored to star in mermaid came out lol ) but it’s uncharacteristic for XZ.

There is also a ! on it, this is the only one with that since the account started posting in 5/2020 where that was used. it’s added for emphasis looks like. you can check the account to see for yourself.

I’m not saying he hates his former co-star. I’d like to think they have a professional relationship as what one would expect with a former co-worker and people who go around the same entertainment circle. But one thing is for sure, he doesn’t want to be associated with her in this capacity. A project using his popularity to get attention when he is already signed on with Condor Heroes. And the last time they went on HS together was about using the same car which last night — y@ngzi was on HS again because that same car was also used by Li Xian ( also a former co-star she is romantically linked with ) proving that the issue was so ridiculous! but somehow, some glass hearted cpfs had doubts. lol. please.

i don’t like talking about our boys and other cps associated to them but his connection with this woman seems to make a lot of cpfs nervous. which i don’t understand. 😂😂😂😂 so i hope those people get some sort of “comfort” with this.

END.

referenced source 📚

[esevik]

Chapter 5

One of the first things Seivarden asks after waking up is to have a cup of tea, Radchaai really is the empire of tea! (I'm actually surprised at how often they talk about tea or compare other drinks to tea.)

On a more serious note they meet with Strigan which leads to interesting conversations. There are still not really any answers but we do get a goal. So what we learned this chapter was:

-Protag uses an alias, Breq, which I'll be using now for them too until stated otherwise. -Seivarden is probably using he/him pronouns so that's what I'll do too. -Seivarden conscious is not that fun to be around, his aristocratic upbringing is probably partly to blame, and he holds firmly in Radchaai's propaganda that only Radchaai is civilized and that everyone else are a lower life-form. Hopefully he gets a "asshole gets humbled and becomes a better person" arc. -Radchaair citizens are able to live up to 200 years. -Strigan is fairly good at deducing things and has a fun dynamic with Breq. -Strigan is a doctor (can have been mentioned before but I'd forgotten). -Berq is looking for a gun Strigan is hiding. This is a gun that has been missing for 1-2 thousand years. It originates with Garseddai who were a culture obsessed with fives and had the technology to create guns that could shoot invisibly bullets that penetrated Radchaair's armor. In all the history of Radchaai it was the only time someone had managed to "sink" one of their ships. Berq wants the missing gun to sink another. It doesn't surprise me that Berq wants to fight the Radchaai since it was pretty well hinted that they were a deserter/traitor but now their goal is clear. Also, for all of the thousands of years they served Radchaai dutifully, what was it that happened with the Ors that was the last drop? What was the action of Radchaai that made Berq turn on them? -Just a thought I had with the other 24 guns Radchaai confiscated. What happened with them? Are they just stored somewhere? Destroyed? I feel like the logical thing to do would be to try to replicate the technology to use for themselves but there is no mention of that. It also sounds like these guns pose a threat. So what happened with them? Why isn't Berq trying to get their hands on those?

[vorish-wonderland]

You find yourself injured and in full view of the gigantic people. You may have died if not for the fact that it was Kalim who found you. Kalim decides to temporarily keep you somewhere safe, somewhere no one else will see you... somewhere that doesn't exactly help you feel less scared of him.

Includes: a very oblivious Kalim, soft/safe vore, unwilling (and also semi-unconscious) prey

★✦Don't Worry! I'll Help You!✦★

☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ

You live in the walls of... what you can only assume is a castle.

There are always so many people, though, which makes you think that it may not be a castle.

Regardless of what it is, the people who you see walking through the halls of this building are... gigantic. At least compared to you. They could probably kill you and not even realize...

That's what makes your life so dangerous.

If any of these gigantic people were to see you, then... they would definitely freak out and kill you.

That's your nightmare. That one day you won't be careful enough, they'll see you, and... it'll all be over.

One day, as you were walking across the rafters, trying to get to one of your many little hidey-holes...

You slipped.

As you fell, for less than a second, you locked eyes with one of the gigantic people.

And then,

Crack.

...

You... you aren't dead.

Why are you still alive, that fall should've killed you!

It's not long before you realize the blinding pain in your legs.

It's unbearable.

"Oh goodness! A-are you ok?!" Someone asked.

But you couldn't respond. Aside from the pain of broken bones in your legs, there was also a horrible throbbing pain in the back of your head.

The giant person picked you up off the floor.

"You poor thing!" He said. "I-I'll get you some help, ok?"

Is he... trying to talk to you...?

You can't even tell what he's saying.

And then, he gently placed you into his mouth. He made sure you wouldn't choke him or be in an uncomfortable position when he swallowed you.

...

So this is how it ends, hm?

It all ends with your body being treated as nothing more than meat.

It all hurt so badly.

You can only hope you die from the injuries to your legs and head before you die from your flesh melting off your bones.

Soon, the pain was too much for you, and you ended up passing out.

... that's good...

Hopefully you don't wake up...

As you returned from the depths of unconsciousness, your eyes opened, and you found yourself having to adjust to a very bright light.

Sunlight...?

"Um... are you ok?" Someone asked.

You turned your head, only to see the giant person that has eaten you before you passed out.

You yelled out in fear.

"HUH?! W-WHAT'S WRONG?! ARE YOU OK?!"

You started crying, and hid your face in your arms.

"D-don't hurt me, please..." You sobbed.

"Wha- hurt you? No! I just want to help you!" He assured you. "I saw you fall, and I assumed you were hurt, so I rushed you over here because I thought my friend, Jamil, could help you with those nasty injuries!"

"...why... w-why did you eat me...?" You asked, still scared.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I just wanted to keep you somewhere safe while I brought you here! And speaking of your injuries, are you feeling better?"

"Um... no, not really. It still really hurts, but..." You couldn't believe you were about to say this to one of these gigantic people. "Thank you for helping me..."

"Of course! No problem... ah, what's your name...?"

"It's (Y/N)."

"No problem (Y/N)! And my name's Kalim, if you were wondering!"

"Thank you, Kalim..."

"Would you like to stay here for a while?" Kalim sweetly asked.

"What?"

"Do you want to stay in Scarabia? I could keep you safe here! And you'd have access to free food when you need it, which I think might be useful for you!"

"...free food...?" You asked.

"Yep! And a safe place for you to stay! If anyone tries to eat you for non-transportation reasons, Jamil and I will make sure to punish them!"

"R-really?!"

"Of course, (Y/N)!"

"I would love that! Thank you so much, Kalim!" You excitedly said.

"No problem!"

You were very scared of Kalim when you first met him, but now... now that he promises to keep you safe and provide you with food... you've realized just how nice he is.

It feels weird whenever you think this, but...

You're glad he ate you that one day.

[canirove]

Bluebell | Chapter 22

Author’s note: And we’ve made it to the end! Thank you very much to everyone who has read this story, liked it, shared it with others or commented. It always means a lot 💜

For those of you who like Rúben, next Tuesday (Jan 31) I’ll start posting a new story with him (will probably share a characters introduction and maybe the summary on Sunday), and if everything goes as planned, I’ll start posting a new story with Mason the week of Valentine’s Day.

Hope you like this last chapter, and again, sorry to some of you for the previous one 😅

Previous chapter

Masterlist

"Thank you for coming, Mason. I didn't know who else to call."

"It's ok, don't worry. Do you know where the generator is?"

"I think it is this big thing next to the heating system."

"This big thing" he chuckles.

"You know what I mean" I say as a thunder sounds somewhere very close.

"We should check it before the storm arrives. C'mon" Mason says.

It was announced that a huge storm would be hitting Bluebell, and everyone in town had been urged to stay safe, but also to check if they had everything that may be needed in case of flooding, power cuts... And since Rúben was out of town and couldn't check it all for me, Mason was my next option.

Every time we've been alone during these past few months, things have been great, we’ve behaved like we've always had (minus the having sex part, of course). When Rúben is around, it is a bit more tense, but both of them are doing their part to keep improving their relationship, and hopefully one day have a normal and civilized one.

"Everything is fine over here" Mason says after checking the generator. "If the power goes out, it should start working on its own."

"Thank you."

"But shouldn't you be staying with Mrs. Smart? You are eight months pregnant, and I don't see any guests coming in with this weather" he says as the whole room gets lightened, a thunder sounding just seconds after.

"I'm going there later for dinner, I'll be alright. I'll..."

"What? What is it?"

"I need to go to the bathroom."

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just need to pee. Wait upstairs in the living room."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━        

"Mason..." I say when I meet him, the storm already here. "I’m in labour."

"You are in what?"

"I... Fuck!"

"Fuck what?"

"The baby is coming, Mason" I say, trying to breath through my contraction.

"Now?"

"Yes, now. And fast."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━        

"This... We shouldn't be doing this. You should be at the hospital, not here."

"Mason, there is no time to go to the hospital, you heard what they... Fuck!" I scream as I feel another contraction.

"But I don't know what to do! I've never seen a woman actually give birth, just what they show on movies!"

"Welcome to your first time, then" I say, trying to smile now that the pain has eased a bit. "Check how much I've dilated."

"What?"

"You heard what the midwife said, Mason. We must check it to know when it is time."

"Are you sure you want me to do it?"

"You are very familiar with that part of my body."

"I am, but I'm sure it doesn't look the same right now."

"Mason. Do it" I say, my voice sounding more like a grunt as I feel another contraction coming.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━        

"Ok guys, it's time to push" my midwife says over the phone.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck" Mason says.

"It's gonna be fine, I'll guide you, ok?"

"Ok" he repeats, taking a deep breath.

"Push!" the midwife says.

"Oh, oh, I see something!"

"That's good, that's good. Remember to breath and... Push!"

"The head! I see hair!"

"We are almost there, probably just another push. Are you both ready?"

"Yes" Mason and I say at the same time, our gazes focused on each other.

"Ok... Breath and... Push!"

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━        

"Where are they?" Rúben says, storming into Daisy's.

"Shh, quiet. They are sleeping."

"Where are they, Mount?"

"I already told you. Sleeping. She needs to rest, and Mrs. Smart is keeping an eye on both of them. Her, and Dixie. That cat hasn’t left her side since she went into labour."

"Ok" Rúben says, letting out a big sigh and sitting down on the sofa. "What happened?"

"The baby got tired of waiting, and decided that the day the biggest storm in the past decade was hitting Bluebelll, was the perfect day to come to the world."

"And you were here?"

"Yep. Since you were busy, she asked me if I could come check the generator downstairs just in case there were power cuts. And an hour later, I was bringing a baby to the world."

"Thank God you were here. If she had been alone..."

"Yeah..." Mason whispers.

"Thank you."

"Uh?"

"Thank you for helping her and the baby."

"Of course. You know I would do anything for her. Even if she chose you and all that."

"Friends?" Rúben asks, offering him a hand.

"Friends-ish" Mason says, shaking it. "Fancy a drink to celebrate that the little one is here and both of them are safe and sound?"

"That sounds like a great idea. Do you know where she keeps the nice stuff?" Rúben asks with a smile.

"Oh, I do" Mason replies, also smiling.

"What do we toast to?" Rúben asks once they both have their drink.

"To the little one, of course. And to that amazing woman you have as a girlfriend" Mason says, lifting his glass.

"To them... And to you. Thank you for what you did. Again."

"Cheers, bro."

"Cheers, Mason."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━        

"You won't believe what I just saw downstairs."

“Please tell me the basement isn’t flooded and that we have ducks swimming on it.”

“No, nothing like that” Mrs. Smart says. “This is something good. I think.”

“You think?”

“Mason and Rúben were together downstairs, having a drink, and laughing.”

“They were doing what?”

“What you heard” she says. “Rúben also asked if he could come see you both. Are you ready?”

“I’m ready.”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━        

“Can I come in?” Rúben asks, opening the door.

“Of course. There is someone who is dying to meet you.”

“Hello, little one” he says, sitting on the bed next to me, caressing the baby’s head. Our baby. Our son.

“What do you think?” I ask him.

“He’s perfect. And you are amazing.”

“Me? What for?” I chuckle.

“Giving birth at home? With no drugs? And just with the help of Mason, who knows nothing about these things.”

“I had my midwife on the phone. And this is nothing compared to what other women do and go through.”

“I know. But to me, you are amazing” he says, kissing my cheek. “Can I hold him?”

“Of course. Little one, meet your dad. Dad, meet your son, the one who still doesn’t have a name” I say while putting him on his arms. He looks so tiny on them...

“Now that he is here, it’ll be easier, you’ll see” Rúben says, his eyes focused on him.

“I hope so. What about Mason?”

“I’m not naming him Mason.”

“That’s not what I meant” I say, rolling my eyes. “What was happening with him downstairs?”

“Oh, that” he chuckles. “Nothing. Just that this little guy may be the thing that will put an end to almost a decade of hating each other.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You are a miracle baby, little one” I say, kissing his head.

“Daniel.”

“What?”

“Daniel. Daniel Dias, with the accent on the e. I like how that sounds” Rúben says.

“No middle name?”

“Nah.”

“Daniel Dias... I like it. What do you think, Dixie?” He is sleeping at the end of my bed and hasn’t left my side for the past couple of hours, kind of protecting me. I sometimes wonder if that’s why my dad left him with me. To protect me now that he was gone.

“Meow” he says before stretching his legs and curling on a different position.

“I think that’s a yes, I like it.”

“Thank you, Dixie” Rúben laughs. “I love you, you know? You and Daniel. Both of you.”

“I love you too. Both of you” I say, resting my head on his shoulder and not being able to stop smiling while I watch him caressing our son’s head in the most loving and caring way I have ever seen.

I thought that after my ex and my best friend broke my heart, I would never recover from it. That I would never fall in love again. Make new friends. Find people I could consider my family.

Yet here I am, having found all that and more, feeling the luckiest and happiest woman in the world.

[doublejango]

HAPPY MUNDAY! what are your turn-offs for RP partners?

I can totally answer Munday on a Wednesday night, right? It's five o'clock somewhere.

For me, it's mostly just about how our writing meshes. If someone writes extremely passive replies--ie, their character doesn't really do anything, they're just there to look pretty--then I tend to lose interest pretty quickly. I am very aroace, so a character's sexual appeal doesn't actually engage me as a mun; if they're just "hot," and there's nothing else going on, my attention wanders. Not intentionally, I try for a few replies, but if it's pretty clear that there isn't going to be anything for me to work with ever, that it'll always be me basically pulling teeth to move things along because they just don't return the serve, I'll eventually bail.

But other than that 'mostly?' I'm pretty tolerant of a lot of things. It does get under my skin when someone is a blatant muse-narcissist (totally a term, like if they're the type to ask something about one of my characters as if they care, then immediately being like lol k anyway back to MY muse), but I try not to act on being bothered by that. Those people are very, very clearly insecure--or assholes--and either way, they show who they are. They may think they're sneaky about it, but I mean... it's not subtle. But. If they're insecure, then that's not something I really want to call them on, I don't want to make them feel worse. Eventually, they'll learn to feel a little more confident, a little more trusting, and hopefully I can be a safe writing partner until then... or, they'll cross a line, if they're of the asshole variety, and I'll be done with them. It bothers me when people treat me so dismissively, but I assume that I don't know what all is going on in their lives, and just wait the behavior out.

The one really hard limit I have for muns is if someone tries to manipulate me. Guilt tripping especially. If you come at me trying to give me a hard time for being so slow, do it in a lighthearted and joking way, please. Having had someone who would go really, really hard with the guilt-tripping absolutely broke my tolerance for it. I can take a little bit of it, but beyond that? I will drop everything and walk.

So mostly, unless you are very clearly trying to guilt-trip me, I'm not too bothered by mun behavior. People are who they are, flawed and fucked up, and I absolutely do not expect perfection. We're RP friends, they don't need to like... prove themselves as a saint or anything like that. They can have some dead-wrong takes, be arrogant dipshits, get pushy for smut, and it won't actually affect how I interact with them. I won't compromise myself or cross my own boundaries/limits for someone else, have been there and done that, so I just let them be what they want to be, do what they want to do.

This ended up a lot longer of an answer than you were probably hoping for, but thank you for asking! I've never actually done Munday before, so it was sweet of you to be like hey fucker do Munday, here you go!

TL;DR-- Writing compatibility is the most important thing. People can behave shitty, I'll see it and recognize it, but it usually isn't something I will bother acting on.

[girlscience]

Downloaded tumblr again specifically to complain about my new apartment :/ I am so grateful I have a place to live, don't get me wrong. But it already has several issues and I've only been here a little over 24 hours.

First, the smell I noticed when I first saw the place, was in fact, piss. We scrubbed a lot yesterday and it still isn't gone. I will be scrubbing the floors on my hands and knees, and scrubbing the walls with a cleaning solution, and placing candles and air smelly doohickies around. Hopefully that will fix the problem. Second, the toilet pump is broken and sprays water all over, which wouldn't be an issue if the toilet lid fit (which it doesn't), so the toilet tank leaks. Third, both sinks leak. The kitchen sink I figured out is leaking from the connection of the water pipes to the faucet, but I can't figure out where the bathroom sink leaks from.

Other things that aren't issues, but are annoying is that first, this place is just slightly smaller than my last. Which is totally fine!! I prefer a smaller home, but it means that my furniture just barely doesn't quite fit right. So that means I am going to have to do a lot of finagling to get things to work/look right. And I have to get rid of my coffee table (no real biggie though, I didn't love it anyway). Second, the apartment has a window ac unit, which again, is fine, it works very well. However I don't know how to really program it (it does have some options for that), and looking online wasn't helpful, so I kind of just have it on full blast or totally off right now. And that isn't really sustainable long term, so figuring it out is going to be a pain. And third, I was told there was wifi/internet paid for until september, but the router has no cords and it isn't on. So, I am going to have to call the company to get that figured out, which means I'll probably end up having to set up an account now and start paying for it now rather than waiting.

However! There are several things I love about my new place :) It has vinyl flooring in all the rooms except the bedroom and I have always wanted to live somewhere without carpet. It has very nice windows, and it even has one in the bathroom; something else I have always wanted in my home! It has ceiling fans in the living room and the bedroom (which is the more important one!), which is something I have missed a lot after moving out of my parents. And lastly, it has a bit of a backyard area. I am thinking about getting a little baby grill, so I can cook and chill out there some nights.

I am all moved in though! My family left about an hour ago, I have already started moving things from how they set them up to how I want them lol. I am very thankful they were able to help me move, but they do not know how I like to live. I have sooo many things to hang up on my walls, and I need to get a desk and the internet set up, but after that I should be all settled! I am very excited and very nervous about this new part of my life.

[canofspooks]

DannyMay Day 16 (Fangs)

Summary: Danny’s reflection has been changing. Sometimes those changes hurt. Sequel to the ‘No CTRL+Z’ prompt, since I wrote these out of order.

Words: 1947

He hated Phantom's reflection. From afar, it might've looked normal, but the closer he got to the mirror, the more the imperfections showed. Phantom fresh from Danny's untimely demise had been completely human aside from the eerie glowing eyes, but now... it'd gotten so much worse.

His face was becoming more gaunt and discolored, paling to the sickly green he had seen on his frightening future self. The shower curtains he could see bleeding into his form in the mirror taunted him, reminding Danny of how difficult it had become to keep a solid shape anymore. The worst of it all was the teeth - the reasoning for him being in the bathroom in Phantom form in the first place. To think that he could numb the pain of those two, long fangs growing in with a little toothache medication felt silly, but he was getting desperate now. The ache in his jaw didn't stay confined to his ghost form, following him throughout the school day despite him (hopefully) not sporting the massive canines when existing in the world as Fenton.

He dabbed some of the gel onto his finger and spread it liberally around the base of the fangs. Even if it felt silly, anything to numb the pain would be well worth the $5 he'd spent on a single, small tube.

The logistics of allowing the medication to take affect were completely lost on him. Would switching back completely remove the substance from his gums? Would numbing the pain in his human form help at all, or was it psychological in nature - as Jazz probably would've suggested. Just to be safe, Danny stayed as Phantom, and made his way over to the bathroom door on a mission to return to his bedroom and hopefully take a nap until it finally kicked in.

Then he heard a crash from the basement, and the tell-tale vworp of the portal as it spat out another ghost.

Damn it.

Danny slipped through the floors into his parents' lab, and grabbed a thermos from the counter before he could even tell who it was.

Instead of his usual fair of the green-ish, giant floating monsters, the faces that greeted him were much more human-like.

"The Ohio ghosts?" He stood there, dumbfounded. "I thought you were like. Gone."

Their brief meeting a few weeks ago would've all but slipped his mind, if not for the dubiously-acquired sum of cash they'd given him for helping them get back into the Ghost Zone.

"Trust me, kid. We wanted to be. This place is fucking insane," the shorter one, Conrad, shoved his hands in his pockets and eyed the various devices and tools around the lab with a keen interest. Now that Danny wasn't stressed out of his mind and on a tight schedule, he noticed that the ghost was sporting the kind of clothes he expected from an old aviator. If it was casual Friday, that is. The bomber jacket, dog tags, and jeans all screamed "old-timey war ghost on a budget". The man's thick-rimmed glasses hid his glazed-over eyes pretty well in the lighting of the lab, and if not for the massive burn scar running down the right side of his face, Danny would've clocked him as a normal, living human with an oddly dated choice of fashion.

"Here," Danny offered, "I'll turn off the portal before anything else comes through. What... uh... what happened?"

Danny was glad the ghosts didn't seem keen on immediately trying to kill him, but he'd rather them not be in a lab with a bunch of deadly anti-Phantom weaponry, especially with how intently Conrad was considering one of the guns. Step one, turn off the portal. Step two, shoo them out to somewhere less dangerous.

"I don't know what's in the air around here, but it's impossible to move two steps in that other world without getting harassed by some dipshit with magic fuck-you powers."

The other ghost - Poppet, if he remembered correctly - shot a glare at their companion. "At least try to be mindful of your language around the child, I am begging you." Their colors were still washed out, with the exception being their glowing green eyes that were similar to his own except for the black sclera. Their formal attire looked more roughed-up than it was last time, with the dress shirt untucked and tears in their pants. Whatever they'd gotten into a fight with, it must've been recent. He was pretty sure that sort of damage to a ghost's form was supposed to heal itself over time.

He didn't want to hear the two argue again, so he cut off Conrad's retort with the loud shutdown chime of the portal.

"Who attacked you? Was it a guy with a beanie obsessed with boxes, or a old lunch lady?"

Poppet's heels clicked against the floor as they paced around. "Neither of the ones you described sound familiar. Our assailant - or, the most recent one - was someone with control over ice. It feels as though everyone in the underworld is looking for a fight. I don't envy you, Daniel, if these are the kinds of monsters you deal with frequently."

With the portal fully off, he led the ghosts out of the lab and into the park. The farther they were away from deadly weaponry, the better.

"It's not that bad. Half the ghosts around here are easy to beat, once you get to know them." As per usual, Danny decided to focus on the Box Ghosts of the world, rather than his genuine near-death experiences. Those were much easier to process, anyhow. "So... uh, what's the plan, then? If you can't escape, are you gonna hang around here for a bit?"

Conrad huffed. "Nah, we're probably gonna walk. Maybe hitchhike a bit. No way in hell am I staying 'round here with all these monsters around every corner."

As if on cue, the aching in Danny's jaw flared up again, and he reflexively put his hand up to his cheek to dull the pain with pressure, since apparently the medication wasn't working.

"You okay, kid?" Conrad inched closer. When Danny opened his mouth to reply, his eyebrows shot up. "- woah, that's new. When'd you get those teeth?"

"E'ry ghos' aroun' here has fangs," he mumbled, reluctant to move his jaw anymore than strictly necessary. "S'normal."

Conrad rifled through his pockets and pulled out a lighter, and small bag of dried leaves. "Here, burning sage seems to help with the pain. Maybe it'll work here."

"You're not going to give him drugs. He's like twelve." Poppet grabbed the lighter.

"I'm sorry, do you see a fucking ghost pharmacy around here? I know sage works, I have sage - this seems like a pretty reasonable choice."

Poppet reluctantly gave the lighter back, and Conrad dumped some of the sage into his palm, then lit the dried leaves on fire.

He held out his hand. "Wherever the smoke touches should numb for a bit."

"Your hand. Doesn't the fire hurt?" Danny couldn't help but ask.

Conrad bit his lip. "... I have... fire powers..."

And that was just about the worst lie Danny had ever heard, but he was far too concerned with the fact that it was working. The pain in his jaw was replaced with a much more manageable, radiating warmth that only slightly felt like blood blossoms against his skin. If not for the fact that he'd felt the full force of the sulfurous choke of blood blossoms before, he probably wouldn't have even registered it as pain.

The sage finally burnt out, and Conrad wiped the ashes on his pants.

"Thanks. That actually worked." Danny brushed a finger across his gums, finding that he could barely feel the pressure against them.

"No problem. Pops, what's up?" Conrad looked over to where Poppet had been studying Danny with an intense stare.

"It's not a ghost thing," they stated.

Danny squinted. "What?"

"It can't be a ghost thing. The fangs, the skin - all the monsters in this area of the underworld have similar features, even the ones that couldn't be ghosts. What if it's the mist doing this? When we first came here, Conrad, don't you remember how much it burned to breathe?"

He was fully ready to accept that the Ghost Zone itself was evil, but he couldn't get passed the first part they said. "Woah, woah, what do you mean 'couldn't be ghosts'? It's the Ghost Zone, it's all ghosts."

The two ghosts looked at him funny, before Conrad piped up, "I don't know if we've met the same guys, but there are some 'ghosts' in the other world who are like... the supernatural embodiments of concepts. I don't know if there's a bureaucratic process you gotta go through to be considered the spirit of sleep and dreams, but I have a hard time believing that dude was just some guy from the like 1300's."

He assumed Conrad was talking about Nocturn, in which case... yeah, in retrospect he really should've questioned how that all worked. At the time, he had been more concerned with surviving, though.

"Okay, so, he's a monster from another dimension or something?"

Conrad laughed. "Fuck no. It's probably some other supernatural bullshit. I don't know how this all works. All I know is there's normal fucking ghosts like you n' me, and then there's a 50ft plant monster that could be the ghost of an eco-terrorist, or it could be a plant monster. Ocum's razor and all that."

"Can we refrain from discussing the plant monster?" Poppet grumbled.

"Sorry. Forgot. Sensitive subject and all that. Anyway, I think if you dipped from the area for a bit, maybe you might not turn into one of those big blue weirdos."

Danny considered the idea for a moment. Amity Park was his home. He couldn't just abandon it to struggle against the ghosts - or... vaguely-defined supernatural entities - all on its own. But maybe he could take vacations. Prolong his humanity with a few months away from the area, and leave his parents with the tools and knowledge to protect the town for the short time. So what if they were a bit more brutal in their methods? That would just mean his usual foes would have to take a raincheck during those periods of time, or face potential dissection at the hands of the older Fentons. If they chose to test their chances, then he could deal with the crushing guilt later.

Maybe he should take a vacation.

"I guess I always wanted to visit the Johnson Space Center in Texas..."

"Eh... maybe not there. The other world 'round there is all flesh."

"Excuse me?"

Conrad fumbled with his hands for a moment, trying to gesture towards... honestly, Danny wasn't sure what he was doing with his hands. It was just vague waving. "I don't want to explain. Just big flesh pit. Huge. Scary. Wouldn't recommend. If you're sticking to the human world then by all means, though."

"You two get around a lot."

"Against my will." Poppet's dead glare at their companion lightened up when it passed over Danny. "We shouldn't take up too much of your time. Good luck, take care of yourself. We'll be off to... wherever fate decides to take us next."

Before they left, he felt the need to add, "Um, please don't commit any crimes before you leave the city limits? I'd kinda feel responsible for that."

"I solemnly swear not to pickpocket until after we're in another town," Conrad promised with a grin.

"Thanks, I guess?"

He and the ghosts parted ways, and Danny was left holding his now-numbed cheek.

Right. Sage. He'd have to note that somewhere.

[meiloorunsmoothie]

11. describe your ideal day.

17. would you say your tumblr is a fair representation of the “real you”?

20. would you rather be in Middle Earth, Narnia, Hogwarts, or somewhere else?

29. three songs that you connect with right now.

describe your ideal day.

this is a dangerous question.

welllll currently i would really like to show finding neverland to as many people in my life as i can (because i really never left finding neverland mode). so maybe just a big watch party with everyone, with a miraculously clear boot, and hopefully everyone adores it XD.

but that's only like 4 hours (cause we watch it twice, obviously).

then i think i would just like to find myself at disney world and universal studios where there are no lines for maybe like 2 hours.

probably me, although the incredicoaster is terrifying what is this man doing

hmm...i'd love to also go to a jeremy concert (he comes to me XD), with my ideal setlist, and a bunch of guest stars (all the faves). maybe we should make it a longer show than usual (with no expense to his voice, of course).

at this point, i actually probably can't...which should be concerning, but we're living life XD

after that, i'd love to chat with laura osnes (if it wasn't clear, she's there as a guest star).

okay and then i'd go home, because as much as i would enjoy all that, as an introvert i like me time. although knowing me, this will probably become a jj youtube spiral, so going with the ideal day idea, the concert will have magically been recorded so i can relive it forever.

forever grateful this one was (mostly) recorded

okay well i could definitely add more, but i'm just going to end the day with time with my family all together hanging out because that's becoming a scarce thing these days 😂

how i wish we still did this

would you say your tumblr is a fair representation of the “real you”?

i mean, in some ways yes. obviously there are things in my life that i don't put online, but i also wouldn't say that i act different on here than i do irl—and i don't regret anything i've said here. if anything, y'all get a part of me people irl don't see XD.

would you rather be in Middle Earth, Narnia, Hogwarts, or somewhere else?

...i'm going to say hogwarts but i'll probably change my mind later

three songs that you connect with right now.

only tea, the great gatsby (no one is surprised, but that is literally my mind in 75% of situations)

moving too fast, the last five years (lot's of change up ahead 🫡)

let me make you proud, tangled the series (for...reasons, and the "you" in this equation is mostly referring to myself)

^my brain right now

[princelylove]

Hey prince how u doing (I finally made my fyp scrumptious again)

-🦷

Logically there was a glitch somewhere because you sent this in twice, but I'd like to imagine that you just reaaally wanted to make sure I got it.

Good job, tooth anon. You did the horrible, terrible work of engaging with works that you love. How funny that you sent this in the day I made a new account somewhere else just to get a fresh start. It's genuinely a bit frustrating to get back into your niche- that's why I'll never, ever delete pinterest. Finally have a good feed after something-something amount of years of having it (likely nine or eight).

Honestly, I've been having a bit of a hard time adjusting to life with a chronic disease. I'm going to an objectively better doctor now though, so hopefully it works out. Fingers crossed.

The surgery I had done in the beginning of March was a surprise, they discovered my chronic disease while they were in there, so. Imagine you're just totally fine and then one day you have a looot of physical pain, and now you have to live like that and figure out how to keep living like that. That's how I'm doing lately. The last doctor I saw said I was still in recovery from my surgery, sooo... it's probably a mix of aches from someone opening me up and the disease that's made its home in my womb. Love that for me.

Pray for me if you're religious, please.