#but my god we should enjoy the sugar we do eat and we don’t have to kill for it!

[ergativeabsolutive]

I don’t get it. Why the fuck are we, my fellow Americans, still to this day engaged in this bloody business of exploiting people abroad for sugarcane? Why were we ever? We have sugar at home! My god, we have sugar at home! No, not HFCS!!! Fuck that! It’s called maple! Beautiful, delicious maple!!! The greatest form of sugar in the world! Why do you think the Canadians have it on their flag? They’re right to celebrate it so! The only thing sugarcane is really good for IMO is molasses

[sanjoongie]

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕪: 𝕊𝕠𝕗𝕥 𝕕𝕠𝕞-𝕤𝕦𝕓/ℝ𝕠𝕝𝕖𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕪

🥀Pairing: Rich! Older! Reader x Younger! Lover! Wooyoung

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact 

🥀Au: boss lady, sugar mommy

🥀Trope: age gap

🥀Summary: when you decide the healthy outlet to a rumored lifestyle with your younger lover is in fact to play out a scenario of a woman cheating on her husband with the pool boy

🥀Kinks: soft dom-sub, roleplaying, breast play, oral (f), penetrative sex with no barrier, creampie, cum used as lubricant

🥀Word Count: 1,548

🥀Betas: @mejuii

🥀Day Nineteen: Masturbation/ Edging 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Twenty One: Aphrodisiac/ Overstim

Introducing some role playing into your current lifestyle with your younger lover Wooyoung had been a good idea. Rumors and whispers had been swirling around you two since you met but instead of raging and throwing plates against the floor, you had the perfect, productive and satisfying answer.

At the moment, you were kneeling on the steps of your pool, your forearms braced on the smooth tiles leading out of your pool, with Wooyoung standing in the pool still, hands reverently hovering over your hips and ass. You two were playing the rich, bored wife and Wooyoung was the pool boy that you had been allowing between your legs, seeing as how you were so bored. 

You looked over your shoulder. “Since you’re the pool boy, you should check over everything, right? I’m in the pool, you should make sure I’m plenty clean.”

Wooyoung bit down on his lip and nodded. His wet hands tickled over your shoulder and lower back and rested on your hips again. His fingers followed the teeny tiny bikini bottom before settling on pulling the strings. 

You pretended to gasp in surprise. “Well! You’re a bold one.”

“I don’t think I should only check with my eyes,” Wooyoung murmured. His hands grasped your ass and pulled apart your ass cheeks. His tongue circled around your puckered hole before moving down and delving into your cunt. You gasped, pushed forward by the furiosity of Wooyoung tongue fucking you. 

“Hnnnn, is it clean down there?” You giggled through a moan.

You could hear Wooyoung smacking his lips as he sat back. “I should use something that can go deeper, I’m not sure.”

You thought Wooyoung might push his fingers into you, to scissor them and make room for him cock, but he pushed his shorts down to his thighs and pushed into your wet hole. 

“Oh my god,” You groaned, resting your forehead on your forearms, “What an eager pool boy you are, not waiting for the go ahead.”

Wooyoung let out a whine. “Please, you’re so warm and wet, I can’t--” Wooyoung let out another whine.

“Oh no!” You said with fake surprise, “Seems like my husband is calling me. I have to take this. Be a good boy and be quiet for me, okay, Wooyoung?” Like that man could ever, but it was fun to pretend. The call was fake, there was no ‘husband’, but the scenario of getting fucked while you were on the phone with someone only added spice to the scene.

Wooyoung shook his head so that some of his hair that had been falling into his face would stay out of his eyes. “I’ll be good,” He promised.

“Hi, Honey,” You chirped into the phone. “I was just out by the pool, how is your business trip?”

Wooyoung’s hands tightened on your hips and you could tell he was enjoying this roleplay. But he kept a slow pace while still fucking you. 

“Oh, the new pool boy?” You looked over your shoulder with a smirk, “He’s looking good.” You visibly dragged your eyes over Wooyoung, with his shades holding his hair back, his toned and bronzed chest and the way his stomach was hidden behind your ass. Wooyoung bit down on his lip harder, but looked pleased at the way your gaze was eating him up.

“Is he doing a good job? Yes, Honey, the pool boy is in the deep end as we speak,” You purred into your phone. A cry ripped from Wooyoung’s lips and he thrusted a little bit deeper than intended. You attempted to swallow down the preceding moan. “He’s doing very well.”

Wooyoung leaned over your back, pressing his wet chest to you. You could feel his pert nipples against your shoulder blades. His arms moved around your body to push aside the tiny bikini that was covering your tits. Both hands squeezed your breasts liberally. A muffled whine came from behind you as he played with your tits.

“Anyways, I’ve gotta go. I want to keep an eye on what the pool boy is doing. You know, the last one was quite lazy. See you after your business trip, sweetie, byeeeee!”

“I’m fucking you good, right?” Wooyoung questioned. You could practically see his eyebrows furrowed in worry. 

“Course you are, Wooyoung,” You assured him. You covered his hands with yours and pushed back into one of his thrusts, causing you both to cry out. “You’re always good for me, baby.”

Wooyoung’s hips stuttered and you knew what that meant. “I’m gonna--” Before he could even finish his sentence, he let out a lusty, loud cry and held himself inside of you. He had come a little prematurely. 

“It’s okay, baby,” You reassured him. “We can go again.”

There was silence and then a soft, “We can?”

You couldn't help but giggle. “You haven’t even softened inside of me and you just came, silly!”

Wooyoung shifted from foot to foot behind you. “Should I really clean you up then?”

You thought about it and then shook your head. “No need! Your cum can just act like a lubricant, darling!”

Wooyoung’s eyes shined with happiness when you turned around to put your bare ass on the tiles of the tops of the steps. You spread your legs and Wooyoung watched as his cum leaked out of you. He licked his bottom lip, tongue poking at the freckle there. “You sure you don’t need me to clean you up?”

“You can eat your cum out of me another time, Wooyoung,” You assured him, “Don’t you want to stick your cock inside of me again? Hmmm?”

Wooyoung wobbled to his knees in front of you. You took his sunglasses off and ran your hand fondly through his hair. “I’m so lucky you let me fuck you.”

You smiled in happiness. “I’m so lucky you want to fuck me.”

Wooyoung frowned at you. “Don’t do that. You’re gorgeous.”

You pulled Wooyoung further into your embrace. “Why don’t you show me how lucky you are, pool boy.”

Wooyoung couldn't help but grin mischievously. “I think I missed a spot, boss lady.”

“Oh god, Wooyoung,” You groaned. Your arms were locked behind his neck while you threw your head back. He filled you again quite nicely, but this angle was better. “You fill me so well.”

Wooyoung nuzzled your chest for a brief moment before rocking into you. “I’ll make you come this time. I promise.”

“Course you will, baby,” You agreed.

Now that you two were face to face, you had the chance to appreciate the body that was fucking yours so damn well. Your hands traveled over his shoulders, appreciating the breadth there. “Such a pretty boy,” You murmured. You pulled him in so you could suck and lick at his strong neck. 

Wooyoung’s hips faltered against you as you attacked his neck. “Wait. Please. That’s only going to--!” Wooyoung protested.

“Such a sensitive baby,” You tsked. “Okay, I’ll stop.” You switched tactics. “Your skin is so brown from the sun. I think I’m actually going to fire the pool boy so I can watch your back as you clean the pool.” To emphasize your point, you dug your nails into his muscles in his lower back.

“Tell me how pretty my dick is,” Wooyoung whined. The more you complimented him, the more greedy he was for all the compliments.

“Such a pretty dick,” You cried out. Watching it move in and out of your cunt was its own porno. “I can never decide if I like it in my mouth or my pussy better.”

“Gonna make you come with this pretty dick,” Wooyoung said, gasping as his pace picked up.

“Next time I’m gonna fuck you in the jacuzzi, Jung Wooyoung,” you whispered mischievously. “Gonna watch you make the water slosh with how well you’re fucking me.”

“Any--anywhere you want me, I’ll do it,” Wooyoung promised.

“You, jesus Wooyoung, you better fuck me--hnnnnnnn--quickly. You never know when someone might---ah, ah, ah! See us!” How you managed to speak while your climax was beginning to peak was beyond you, but you had a feeling that it was all for Wooyoung’s sake; that always motivated you.

“I--I can come again?” Wooyoung groaned deliciously, “Inside of you? Please? Would it please you?”

“Oh yes Wooyoung. Fuck me with that pretty dick of yours and fill me up again!’ You groaned.

Both of your voices intertwined as your climax crescendoed. You clung to Wooyoung as if you could never get enough skin on skin with this man and Wooyoung buried his head into your neck, groaning deeply as he unloaded into you a second time. You patted his head and rubbed his back and whispered sweet nothings into his ear. He truly was beloved by you. He was your everything.

“That was fun,” Wooyoung said, voice muffled by the way he refused to untuck his head in the crook of your neck.

“It was, wasn’t it, baby?” You agreed with him.

“Next time, I want to be a patient and nurse,” Wooyoung mentioned more casually than he meant it.

“Naughty boy,” You couldn't help but tease him.

Wooyoung raised his head finally to insist cutely, “Yes, but I’m your naughty boy.”

You pecked his lips in response. “Yes, yes you are.”

🥀Day Nineteen: Masturbation/ Edging 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Twenty One: Aphrodisiac/ Overstim

[azertyrobaz]

Part 2 of this Comfortember The Last of Us Part II fix-it drabble. This time with Joel. Once again, don’t read if you want to avoid spoilers for the show. Also, I'm aware we're in December, but I only have a couple of prompts left! :D

As always, prompts are here if you want to have a look. And the ao3 collections is located there.

Enjoy!

************

“Are you sure you’re fine looking after Sammy today? Sorry to spring this on you on your birthday.”

Sarah was staring at him a bit strangely over her coffee cup – he had to force himself to look normal. But what did normal mean now exactly?

Apparently, the new “normal” was this: Sarah was alive. He was alive. The pandemic had never happened. He had a grandson called Sam. He still lived in the same house in Austin. And his watch still worked. Oh, and today was his 58th birthday and Sarah had made him pancakes, which he couldn’t make himself eat. What if everything was about to unravel all over again? What if the infection spread again? What if -

“Something wrong with your food? Did I mess up the recipe?”

“I’m just not hungry,” he pretended, and grabbed his coffee instead. The best coffee he had ever ever tasted. God, he had missed coffee. He didn’t care if this was just a dream, he would at least enjoy that.

Sarah still didn’t look convinced. He tried to smile to put her at ease, but that ended up backfiring – he was probably very rusty in that department.

“Are you sure you’re not coming down with something?” she asked, standing up from the table and raising her palm to his forehead to check if he had a fever. Joel sat very still, heart pounding like crazy. “I can ask a colleague to give you a check-up at the hospital.”

“I’m fine,” he replied in a breath. He’d forgotten the smell of her hair – either his mind was very good at recreating it, or in this strange reality she still used the same shampoo as when she was a teenager.

He’d just died. What the hell was he doing there? What was happening?

“Can we go to the park, Joel?”

Sam was six. With the biggest brown eyes and Sarah’s smile. He had been utterly unable to reject him as yet another figment of his overacting imagination. That child was real. He was too stupid to come up with something so detailed. Never in a million years.

“Sure,” he said immediately, and his own smile must have looked natural this time because the kid nodded enthusiastically before rushing out of the room again to watch his cartoons. On the flattest and biggest TV screen he had ever seen in his life. How the hell had he afforded it? Was this normal for 2023? And why were cellphones so massive now? Surely they should have gone smaller.

“I promise to call the realtor as soon as I have a break during my shift, we’ll be out of your hair soon.”

He’d grasped in the limited time he’d spent in that perfect universe – paradise? was that it? he didn’t believe in heaven, and he certainly didn’t deserve to be there if it was – that his daughter had recently moved back. He’d been too busy taking in everything to press for details. Might have something to do with Sam’s father, since he was nowhere around. Good.

“Don’t,” he said before he could stop himself. Sarah paused as she was loading the dishwasher. “I mean, there’s no rush, I like having you here.”

“I should make you breakfast more often,” she quipped.

Joel stared at her as she poured herself coffee in a thermos – once again, a massive one, what was this supersize thing all about? – he couldn’t stop himself. This would probably all disappear in an instant and he would be back to…wherever you were supposed to go when you died. Nothingness, most likely.

“I’ll be back around seven, don’t let Sammy have too much sugar, bye baby!” she yelled in the direction of the living room.

“Bye mommy!”

And she was off before Joel could hold her back. How much time did he have left? Shouldn’t he have said something? No, she was already pretty freaked out. And he had a job to do – looking after his grandson in a universe he had only experienced for a couple of hours. Should be simple, right?

As he poured himself more coffee – he’d be perfectly happy to just live on coffee for whatever time he’d been granted here, thank you very much – he looked at the calendar stuck to the fridge. September 26th, 2023. But this wasn’t right. His last memory in that other world – the real world – was in 2028. Why the hell had he be sent back 5 years? Was it a significant date, somehow? Apart from being his birthday?

Joel spun around in his kitchen, the cool air of the A/C he could somehow also afford in this reality grounding him.

Think.

September 26th, 2023.

And then it hit him, and he felt terrible for not having thought about her as he had been focusing on being with his daughter again.

Today was the day he had met Ellie for the first time. In the real world. Well, the other world. Who knew what was real anymore. But this had to mean something. If he was here to stay – and he really fucking hoped he was – then he had to find her. And perhaps save her again.

Maybe that was it. Maybe he’d been brought back here because there had only been one thought running through his mind as he took hit after hit from one vengeful daughter. If he’d been given the choice, he would still do it all over again. He would still choose Ellie.

In this life or the next.

[lavishl0ve]

🩸Johhny Slaughter x Fem Reader🩸 (Part 2)

Part 2 continuation of my Part 1 Reader, I plan to make many more of these (which can also be read as a stand alone) but I heavily suggest reading the parts before these since I do reference some connections within previous parts! Again, these are my first fics and i’m not like an english major or whateva so i apologize if it isn’t perfect. Thank you and enjoy 🤩 (First part is on my page :)

Part 2: Scars

My dreams only remind me of the terror I wished to avoid. Ana screams echo throughout my head. I should have helped her, sacrificed myself. Maybe she could have been the one to escape. I curl into myself sitting on the rough mattress waiting, and waiting. Waiting for what? I’m not sure. May death have mercy and greet me with a cold kiss in my sleep. But death is late. I’ve lost count on how many days it's been, weeks? Each day that Johnny man swaps out my bandage, sometimes we exchange a few words but our encounters are usually in silence. With each encounter I grow with worry. Once the infection leaves my ankle is that when he’ll murder me? Oh god. Will I take Julie’s place on that meat hook..? I can’t think about it. I feel sick. Scratching interrupts my thoughts. That notifying sound of someone entering the basement, is it bad I was hoping it was Johnny? He was the only family member presenting some type of remorse or maybe it was just his job to make sure their food isn’t contaminated. Their. Food. I shake the thought. Sissy treds over and suddenly I'm disappointed. Better her than that cook though, last time he brought me food he spat in it. Safe to say I didn’t eat it. Not that the food is good anyways. She slides the plate under the small gap the bars have.

“Here Sugar.”

I look up at her giving her a small nod. Maybe I would have smiled if it wasn’t the same stew as always. But it’s better than starving…right? She stands for a moment watching me and sits down. I stare reluctantly at her.

“Go on, you’ll like it today. I made it.” She giggled.

Scooting forward I grasp the plate. It’s hot today. I take a small portion of the meat and take a bite. I chew once then twice. It’s incredibly tough, I let it linger in the back of my mouth acting like I swallowed it. She laughs again.

“How’s that red headed friend of yours taste?”

She mocks me poiking her razor blade through the bar so that it's mere inches from my face. I spit the chewed meat at her,

“You fucking monster!” I yell and I throw my plate at her.

shards of porcelain shatter on the floor from the impact, a few shards cutting her stew stained face.

She grabs my shirt through the bar hitting my head against the iron bars

“You fuckin’ bitch.” She screams, shaking me against the bars.

She takes her razor blade and slices right underneath my left eye.

“Eye for a fuckin’ eye.” she scowls, “Next time it’ll be more than that.”

She throws me on the ground, some of the chipped porcelain pieces cutting my legs. She leaves. I occupy my time picking the shards out of my legs.

—————————————————————-

I wake up to the thud of his boots approaching. Death had not visited me tonight. Unless Johnny is death. I see him walk towards the cell looking at the shards on the ground. He groans. Maybe he knows what happened. Entering, I face toward the opposite wall hiding the cut Sissy had given me. Maybe I'll just let this one get infected and die. He sits on the mattress right next to me removing the same compact tin and gauze again. I refuse to face him. He takes my ankle and unwraps the gauze himself.

“It’s better.” He remarks.

He goes through the daily process , applying the topical cream, then wrapping it up. He sighs.

“You’se alright sweetheart?” He questions.

“Don’t let er’ scare you.” He glances over left toward my face.

He saw the dried blood that had ran along my cheek. He grabs my chin with two fingers and turns my head to see the cut better.

“Fuckin’ Sissy.” He hissed through his teeth.

Johnny rose and stomped out the basement without another word. You didn’t hear the scratch of the door close though. Maybe this is my time to escape! But how the hell will I get out? I reach outside the bars fumbling with the lock. Impossible without a key… or a bobby pin. Digging into your messy hair hoping to find a remaining pin you used the day you guys got caught. It took some time but it was there. I unfold the bobby pin and inserting it into the lock trying to hear those “clicks” Connie talks about. I was never as good as Connie, although she tried to teach me, I had always got frustrated. I twist around the pin, unable to hear the noise. I click my tongue in frustration. I try to remove the pin, trying to restart. It snaps. Fuck. You throw the pin on the ground and sit back against the cold wall.

Johnny yells, “The hell you do to er’ Sissy?”

“She jus’ needed a lil’ lesson Johnny.” She replies, “Was actin’ like a bitch.”

Some words were muffled, at the end of their argument Johnny's words were loud enough to echo throughout the whole house.

“Don’t cha’ go on touchin’ my fuckin’ things Sissy!” he yells, “Or ya’ gonna get it worse than er’.”

You hear a door slam.

——————————————————————

The next morning you awaken to Johnny banging on the cell.

“Wake up.”

I rub my eyes, vision coming into view. Johnny unlocks the cell and grabs your wrist.

“Cmon’.”

“What- where are we going?” you ask.

You’ve never been out of the cell. Is this the end of your demise? Johnny clecthes some sort of emerald green fabric in his left hand. He leads you throughout the house towards the back walking through the kitchen, the sink stained red at the glance you get. We step outside, it’s still dark out, my bare feet touch the grass and I breathe in the fresh air. Finally, a nice change. He leads you toward the same shed which you first encountered him in. Pulling the switch on to turn on the lights you make out the space. Some kinda workshop of his I assume. He walks you through the side door which opens toward the back. He shoves a hose into your hand.

“Clean yourself off.”

Stunned you just stare at him, you can’t see much since the darkness covers his face. You wait.

“You gonna turn around…?” I ask uncomfortably.

“I gotta make sure you don’t run away sweetheart.”

You feel your cheeks blush, but you can’t resist a shower. (A somewhat shower). You walk a few steps from him. Facing away, you take off your shirt, then your underwear. Since you can’t see him he surely can’t see you right? At least that’s what you tell yourself. You turn the knob right and the cold water splashes immediately at your feet. You whince at the sudden shock, Johhny laughs under his breath.

“It ain’t gettin’ any hotter, make it quick.”

I suck it up and point the hose over my head dousing my hair, I bite the inside of you cheek. The water runs down my spine. I coat my hair, wash the dried blood off my cheek, thighs and scrap the stew remanents off on hands. Wow how I miss warm showers. I look back towards johnny he leans against the barn, cigarette in mouth, he glances back over like he knew I was watching him. I turned around finishing my “shower”. As I turned the knob off I hear johnny shift off the shed wall.

“ ere’.” He say’s cigarette in mouth.

He throws me the emerald cloth he’s been holding. I unfold it revealing some short dress. Probably Sissy’s. I pull the fabric over my head, then squeeze out the excess water in my hair. I walk back towards Johnny.

“So,” I pause, “Back to the cellar now?” I shrug.

“Naw’.” He throws the cigarette to the ground grinding it with his boot.

I’m taken aback as he walks away, I assume he intends I follow him. I quicken my steps with little hops and skips, the dirt collecting on my wet feet.

“Where we going?” I ask quickening my pace trying to catch up with him.

Johnnys strides are long, almost double mine. I skip every now and then just to catch up. He stays silent to my question. As we approach some junkyard filled a bunch of old rusted cars Johnny strides over to the back of an truck and puts down the cargo-bed hopping on the edge as he pulls out another cigarette. I stand there, what do I do? I take a moment then just decide to do the same, dangling my feet as he stares . He offers me the box,

“Oh no, I don’t-“

He nods and snatches the box away back into his pocket. The sun rises over the horizon painting his face a lovely orange and golden color. I study Johnny more in depth, his dark eyes stare into the sunset. Wow. Am I crazy? Or is he strangely attractive. A piece of his slicked hair falls in front of his face as he leans down towards his red lighter igniting his cigarette. His nose is so perfectly straight, jaw, hand sculpted. No Y/N stop. This is insane. I avert my attention towards the sunset hoping it’d change my thoughts but it can’t. I can feel him staring at me. He drops his head back down holding his cigarette between his legs as his forearms rest on his thighs. His forearms. I glance at them. Scar-covered. I decide to break the silence.

“How’d you get those?”

He scoffs, “Which ones?”

“These.” I trace the scars on his upper bicep.

“Barfight.” he mutters puffing his smoke again.

“Well… you’d win?”

He scoffs, “I always~ win Darlin’.”

The way he dragged out his S sent me into spiral. What is wrong with me?

“What about this?” I ask pointing to his left hand.

“Nubbins. He’d always set up traps when we ‘er kids.” He pauses, “Left a pretty good god damn mark.”

I nod agreeing with him.

“I’d suppose yours will leave more though’.” He winks and nods toward my ankle.

I purse my lips together.

“How about this one?” I ask moving his strand of hair, hinting at the scar going down his eye.

His eyebrows furrow. He doesn’t answer. Serious subject. We sit there for a minute.

“My Maw’…”

We stare at each other for a moment. His puffs the cigarette again, jumping off the cargo-bed. Did I fuck this up?

“We outta go back inside before they know I brought chu’ out.”

I jump down, “Back to the cellar?” I sigh.

A simple Mhmm rumbles between his lips. I look back towards the sunrise soaking up each ounce I could receive. Who knows if this is my last time seeing the sun, let alone the sun rise. But in the end, I guess beautiful things aren’t meant to last.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

I’m so excited for the throuple fic Eddie and Shannon need to both get their man 🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

Buck you can figure this time loop thing out i believe in you ➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

Bedsharing buddie they need to get their head out their pillows and realize how unhinged they are 🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️

THANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

45 for 🔼:

---

“I know we need to actually talk about it, but I really love it,” Shannon explains, talking sort of rapidly. “And… I mean, I am the one making her. I let you consult on the first name, so-”

“I love it,” Eddie interjects. 

Shannon stills. “You do?”

He nods. “I do.”

“Oh,” she exhales.

“Christopher and Jane,” Eddie tests the sound of it on his tongue. “Yep. Love it.”

Shannon smiles, wet-eyed. “See? He named our kid.”

Eddie takes her hand and squeezes it. “He won’t hold it against you, Shannon. I don’t think so, anyway.”

“Thanks,” she sighs. “Uh, for everything.”

“You, too,” he smiles weakly. 

“Is this the weirdest conversation we’ve ever had?” She asks.

Eddie considers. 

“Nah. The second.”

“Second?” 

“Nothing beats the argument you had with my mom over circumcision with our two day-old baby in the room.”

Shannon snorts. “Oh god, I forgot.”

“Yeah, and I never will.” 

“I was right, though,” Shannon says adamantly.

“Yeah,” Eddie says quietly. “You were right.”

▶️ 

It takes Eddie a little under an hour after that to get home. Shannon lets him take a quick shower, and then he drives back to the house. When he does, he finds the Jeep parked on the street, and Buck sitting on his porch steps, red-eyed.

Oh, jeez. Did Buck come here to confess? To a crime that doesn’t belong to him? 

“Hey,” Eddie says as he climbs out of the truck. “What are you doing here?”

He knows. But he’s trying to play it cool. 

---

48 for ➰:

⚠️DISCCUSION OF DEATH/DYING AHEAD READ WITH CAUTION⚠️

That’s certainly not the name of their hotel.

Buck mounts the clock and searches the name on his phone. Adventist Health Twin Cities is a nearby hospital in Templeton, California. With an ER and a neurology department. 

Again, interesting.

He supposes it’s possible that the hospital sold things like clocks and other basic decor to the hotel… But it’s unlikely, right? Especially if this clock is connected to their time problem, it seems like something else must be afoot here. 

Whatever.

Buck only has this one theory, and he has to trust it. 

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

Half an hour later, they’re sitting on a big patio eating a complimentary hotel breakfast. Chris looks mildly zombified. Nevermind the fact he wakes up way earlier than this for school. Eddie is indulging in a very big breakfast. He’s practically dumping sugar in his coffee. Buck has the urge to remind him he won’t sleep, but doesn’t follow it. 

Buck eats his waffles, trying to be content with this final breakfast. He’s glad they didn’t do a drive-thru. It’s really a shame he won’t be able to taste the sea bass tonight. That shit is delicious when you don’t have a brain bleed. 

He looks out at the serenely gorgeous view of the ocean. The early morning light only makes it all the more fantastic. Their slice of heaven in purgatory. 

Buck remembers what he said the first time. 

“We should come back here again.”

Eddie looks at him for a long time. There’s a rueful quality to the glint in his eyes. 

“Anytime you want,” he says, voice a little shaky.  

He’s still trying to figure Buck out. 

Buck hopes he won’t. 

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

They go on the guided kayaking tour of the estuary. Thankfully, Buck has practice in knowing what’s going to happen, and allowing it anyway. 

He doesn’t tease Brittany this time. Doesn’t play any games or act like a smart ass. He just enjoys the day. 

“If you’re really lucky, we’ll see sea slugs!” Brittany exclaims as they get into their kayaks. “We have opalescent nudibranch slugs all over and the colors they come in are amazing. They’re beautiful!”

“I think it’s really cool that you’re so passionate,” Buck tells her. 

They help Chris into his kayak, and then Eddie calmly and expertly explains the best way to paddle. Buck doesn’t comment on it. Doesn’t make any quips. Seems cruel now, in hindsight. Eddie probably fucking hates kayaking. Buck sure does. 

The tour goes as well as always. They see the seals, sea lions, and otters. They spot some of those famous sea slugs. 

---

Sweet talk is posted for 48 for anything else????

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Cook Day

Idea idea! Patton invites all the sides to join him in a cooking day. Shenanigans ensue, preferably fluffy ones – diamond-blade

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you choose

Word Count: 2193

Patton invites all the sides to join him in a cooking day. Shenanigans ensue.

 "Alright," Roman says, rubbing his hands together as Patton flips through the recipe book, "what are we starting with?"

"Muffins!"

"Excellent. Truly one of the most breakfast foods of all time. What flavor?"

"Blueberry, I think." Patton squints at the recipe book. "Yeah, let's do blueberry. Could you grab the bix mixing bowl out of the cupboard down there?"

"Is it this one? Wait, hold on—oh, god, why are there so many mixing bowls down here?"

"In case we need them, besides, it's an easy thing to tell Janus to look for when he goes to antique stores and saves us from having to find a place for a coat rack with real deer antlers on top of it."

"That's oddly specific." Roman shakes his head, finally producing a white plastic bowl with a black rubber handler. "Is this the bix?"

"Yep! Great, now we need…flour, sugar, oh, just get over here and look," he exclaims when he notices how Roman's not too subtly trying to lean over his shoulder, "you can read too."

"Why, thank you." Roman does indeed peer over his shoulder, taking full opportunity to wrap his arms around his waist in a supportive back-hug. "Alright, so…flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt…do we have a sieve? I don't feel like I've seen it before."

"Um, it should be in that drawer?"

"Oh, this thing! Wait, isn't this a colander?"

"The holes are smaller and it's not designed to drain water as much as it is to, well, be a sieve."

"Is this the things that fancy pastry chefs use to, like…" Roman mimes sieving powdered sugar over the empty muffin tray.

"Yeah, it's the fancy thing."

"Do we get to be fancy with these muffins?"

"We sure do!"

"Oh, they're gonna be so happy they woke up this morning. Let's do it, I'm so hungry already."

2.

"You know, I get why you asked me to do this one now," Remus says gleefully as he holds up the chicken. Gloopy bits of the breading slip off of it like some eldritch slime beast as he puts it on the plate covered in panko bread crumbs. "Both sides, yeah?"

"Yup, that's it. And of course I asked you to help me with this one, you're our resident slime expert!"

"This is remarkably similar to slime, you were right, and it is something I will not be repeating in front of everybody else because I want them to actually enjoy the food we're eating and not be too disgusted by it."

"Thanks, Remus." Patton affectionately bumps their shoulders together as he checks if the oil is hot enough. "Okay, you should be good to start plopping them in."

"Stand back, I don't want any of it to get on you." The chicken sizzles merrily as Remus lays it down in the pan, quickly followed by three more cuts. "I think we should do this in two batches, I don't want to crowd the pan too much."

"Okay. We'll have to be careful with the oil but that should work fine."

"You got the tongs over there? Yeah, you got 'em, great. Do you want me to get to work washing the veggies while you watch this, or…?"

"If you don't mind?" Patton flexes his hands. "I wanna save my hands for the rest of the day since I'm cooking with all of you…is that fine?"

"I wouldn't've offered if it wasn't, Pat-Pat. Scoot over." Remus pats his hip and Patton obligingly steps away from the fridge, letting him reach in and take out a bag of lettuce, a cucumber, a few carrots, and a small container. "Is this the one you were talking about?"

"Yeah, that's them, they should be done by now. You can try one if you want—I know it won't be for everyone but the flavors actually work really well with the salad dressing!"

"So these are just cucumbers in rice vinegar?"

"Rice vinegar, sesame oil, and a bit of honey, yeah."

Remus opens the container and fishes a single slice out, popping it into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. His eyes widen and Patton quickly has to pry the container from his hands.

"They're for the salad, Remus, for the salad!"

"Salad, schmalad, I can have one more now."

"Okay, just one more, then you need to check the chicken."

"Thank you, Pat-Pat."

3.

"Janus, you first!"

Janus grins from the other side of the counter, sauntering over to lift Patton's hand and press a kiss to the back of it. "My dear."

"Okay, no, we're supposed to be cooking, we have an actual job to do." He tries his best to be stern but then Janus winks and he can feel it softening to a pout. "Do you want garlic bread or not?"

"Alright, alright, I'll behave. What do we need to do?"

"The oven's already pre-heating, so we have about—" he checks the timer— "eight minutes to prepare the crust for the pre-bake."

"So we are using pre-made crust."

"Look," Patton sighs, hands on his hips, "I appreciate your culinary standards and while I would love to have the skillset to make a proper pizza crust, I don't have the time or the skills and I want this to taste good, okay?"

"I'm only teasing, sweetie." Janus presses a quick kiss to his forehead before taking the baking sheet from the rack and covering it with baking paper. "Butter before or after?"

"After. It's gotta start to get puffy." Janus unrolls the pre-made crust onto the paper, stretching it to be the proper size and shape just as the preheat timer buzzes. "And you can just put that straight in. That's gotta go for about eight minutes."

He clicks the timer up to '8' and presses START. "Should we prepare the garlic butter and cheese now?"

"Yeah, I'll do the cheese if you do the garlic butter?"

"Sure. Minced, yeah?"

"Uh-huh. And then do we want just mozzarella or mozzarella and parmesan?"

"Both is everyone's favorite flavor, darling."

Patton giggles. "Both it is!"

4.

Logan stands up as Janus slides the garlic bread into the oven for its final baking, passing Janus in the kitchen as Patton sets a pot of water on the stove. He gently sets a hand on Patton's hip and leans down to kiss his shoulder. "Hello, dear one."

"Why are you two being so flirty," Patton mumbles through flushed cheeks, "the rest of them were nice."

Logan chuckles. "You've been working so hard today, is it any wonder that Janus and I want to say thank you?"

"You've been saying thank you already after we've eaten the food. That doesn't explain this." Logan just grins and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. "Okay, okay! Stop, we have work to do."

"You said we had to wait for the water to boil, didn't you?" Logan chuckles and raises his hands in surrender when Patton smacks his shoulder with a dish towel. "Forgive me, I'm done, I'm done."

"Mean."

"Yes, I know, I'm terribly mean to you, dear one." He heeds the warning glare and takes down a bag of pasta from the shelf. "This one, correct?"

"Yeah, that's it. I'm going to wash the zucchini, could you get the spices out?"

"And the olive oil?" Patton nods and he sets the large bottle on the counter. "May I have the zucchini when you're finished?"

"As long as you stop looking at me like that."

Surprisingly, the rest of the cooking goes off without a hitch. Patton adds the pasta to the salted and boiling water as Logan begins to sauté the zucchini, tossing it in the pan in a way that would make most chefs envious. He checks in every so often about how much of the various spices he should be adding, whether the zucchini is tender enough, where the balsamic vinegar went. The pasta boils away merrily, steam curling up from the pot to the top of the stove as Patton sits on the stool he'd brought in at the beginning of the day. Logan hums under his breath as he works, the oil sizzling in the pan.

"Here," he offers as the pasta nears the end of its timer, "come try one?"

"Could you bring it over? My knees—"

"Of course." Logan scoops up a chunk onto the edge of his spatula, holding his hand under it and bringing it over. "Careful, it's hot."

Patton tries it and nods. "Yeah, that's good."

"Wonderful. Do you want me to finish up here while you have a rest?"

"If you don't mind?"

"Of course I don't, dear one. Take a break, you've earned it."

5.

Patton taps the top of the lemon bars as Virgil peers over his shoulder. "Yep, they look good!"

"Great. Lemme bring 'em out and we can put the powdered sugar on."

They reach in and take out the large glass container, peering inside. The visible surface of the bars has a slightly paler yellow, the edges lightly browned. They set it carefully on the counter as Patton brings over the sieve and powdered sugar, holding them out.

"Would you like to do the honors?"

"Do you mind?"

"Nope, not in the slightest!" He waves at them encouragingly. "Go on!"

The powdered sugar falls in measured sprinkles as Virgil taps the sieve against their hand, methodically covering the whole tray. "Thanks for being so accommodating with this, by the way, Pat. I, uh, I know you've had a lot on your plate today so it means a lot."

"Virgil, I wanted to do the cook day, and if doing it with you meant we had to take breaks, then yeah, I was happy to do it. Besides," he continues, leaning on Virgil's shoulder, "I've been craving lemon bars for, like, two weeks."

They chuckle. "Okay, then. I'm sure the others will love them."

"I hope so too! Knife?"

"Yeah, lemme just get these out of the tray and onto the board." They take the parchment paper and carefully lift the bars from the glass, careful not to tear anything, and set the whole thing on a cutting board Patton slides into position under them. "Great. Now, how big do we think?"

"I think it's probably better to cut them smaller so that there isn't a mad scramble for seconds."

"You sound like you speak from experience."

"No, we're thinking about fun things and happy times today, no terrible ones."

"Deal, but you gotta tell about it tomorrow."

"Sure."

+1.

"Those are delicious," Roman mumbles, his mouth still half-full of lemon bar as Virgil sticks the remaining ones back in the fridge, "you guys did a great job."

"Why, thank you." Patton nods to Virgil. "They did all the work, really."

"Nuh-uh, Pat, don't you go selling yourself short."

"You've done wonderfully all day, dear one," Logan adds when Patton starts to protest, "this has been a lovely day. All the food has been delicious and you've been…well, I can't think of the word."

"Logan's right," Remus says, grinning with powdered sugar all over his mustache, "this was a lot of fun! We should totally do it again once everyone's got the spoons."

"I'm glad you guys had fun." He fiddles with the handle of his cane. "I just—I love cooking for you guys so much and I wanted you guys to see what it felt like."

Roman reaches over and ruffles his hair. "You're too sweet, Patton-cake."

"Hear, hear!"

"Guys," Patton says—he does not whine—as the rest of them make vague noises of agreement, "stop it!"

"But you're so cute when you're all blushy," Roman coos, reaching out to cup his face in his hands, "isn't he?"

"Oh my goodness, knock it off!"

"We don't have to cook anymore," Janus purrs, sidling closer on the couch, "so what's stopping us?"

"Do you have any idea how many dishes we have to do?"

"Oh, I got 'em," Virgil calls helpfully from the kitchen, "Remus, come help!"

"Wait, no—"

"Guess that leaves the four of us," Logan says softly, sitting on the coffee table just in front of Patton who is dealing very well with the three of them suddenly doing whatever this is, "whatever shall we do to pass the time?"

"Anything else!" Patton buries his face in his hands. "Literally anything else!"

"You look cute enough to eat," Janus whispers, chuckling when Patton shoves his shoulder weakly, "doesn't he?"

"Guys!"

"Do you really want us to stop?" Roman nods when Patton mumbles out a yes, softening and reaching out to pull him into a cuddle. "Just relax, then, Patton-cake, you've done so much today."

"Here, give me your hand," Janus murmurs, "they're sore, yeah?"

"Yeah." He hums sleepily when Janus starts massaging his hand. "Thanks."

"You can close your eyes," Logan adds when he notices Patton's energy going down, "you've done enough for today."

As he drifts off there on the couch, he thinks that he can't wait for the next cook day.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb  @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @ultrageekygirl  

[gopped]

so… remember when I said I wanted to create the most 2015 out of character most cringe fanfic about durgetash and I had that pole asking if I should actually write it (as well as some actual serious durgetash which I will.) well…. I did it. Any bad use of grammar/ spelling are 100% on purpose, this is not a serious fic aka please don’t think this is how I actually write.

enjoy 984 words of pure torture.

Hey my name is The Dark Urge but everyone calls me Durge for short. I’m really poggers and epic because I was born from the blood of Bhaal, yeah Bhaals my dad, suck on that posers. I have ivory-white scales and eyes the color of blood being splashed on the deepest of rubies. And I’m a storm sorcerer, studying to do magic is for losers! Plus I have this super cool slayer form that literally makes me so badass. As the true spawn of Bhaal you could say I have it all, I have a whole cult at my beck and call, all the different corpses I can eat… but there’s one thing I don’t have yet. There’s this one guy….. The chosen of Bane, we made like this pact thing that says I can’t harm him but it never said I couldn’t fuck him. And by the gods I will. I want him to be my shmoopie snuggluffagus cutie pookie patootie pudding muffin, but my dad is like a total buzz kill so I have to apologize for even thinking about putting a ring on that. Anyways his names Enver Gortash but he prefers for me to call him Enver because we’re close like that and I’m special and all that fun stuff. Plus I’m so much better that the depressed pile of dust and bones we also have to work with, ugh he’s such a boomer.

So here I am walking into Moonrise Towers so we can start discussing our super foolproof evil plans for how to take over the world. My super platform docs stomp against the stone steps to enter the tower, I glare at a few of the various subjects of other cults, idk which ones though, all I know is they’re not as cool as I am. Their probably posers and preps for all I know. But again, I don’t care. I make my grand entrance into the throne like room, doves flying behind me as light shines behind me, I’m just that important to like the world and stuff. I whip off my super cool angular anime sunglasses and I look around the room I see my pookie schmookie goth fantasy man boo-boo bear sugar goober standing off to the side and I see the old decaying grandpa corpse sitting on the big chair at the end of the room. Ugh, he’s the worst, and not even in a fun way, he won’t shut up about how his daughter doesn’t want to talk to him anymore and how he’s literally only here because of her, like how boring can a backstory get? He begins to speak. “Ah how nice of you to finally join us, you’re over an hour late.” He grumbles out, I swear theres like a moth living where his brain should be doesn’t he know that you have to be fashionably late? “Umm yeah.” I say, “that’s the point, what kind of nerd actually shows up on time.” I say rolling my perfect blood red eyes, making sure I show my sharp teeth as I scoff at him for extra effect. “Whatever, let’s just start the meeting already.” The reanimated corpse groans out, bones cracking as he repositions himself in his high chair. I cross my arms over my chest because I’m mysterious and awesome as the guy begins to speak, I don’t pay attention my sister is probably around here somewhere I’ll just ask her for the spark notes version. Gods I want to kill someone. Like I don’t have to, but I’m bored and it’s something I enjoy doing. Then I notice something in the corner of the room, while the old man goes on and on I go and investigate, the something I noticed was a cultist, not one of mine of course, they knew better. Upon further inspection, they don’t even seem to be a cultist, their robes look homemade with no reference to what they’re even supposed to be wearing. And they seem to be snooping around too, ugh it’s probably some Harper spy or something. Well, might as well get my kill count up while I’m here I guess… I approach them and before they could even begin to utter an excuse I shove my dagger in their mouth, dragging it against the roof of their mouth and tongue and pushing it down their throat. I watch with glee as the fear in their eyes gets worse as they start to choke on their own blood. I wiggle my blade, making the gashes in their mouth wider as I do so. I could stop there, but where’s the fun in that? I pull my dagger out to watch them cough and sputter out their own blood, uselessly clawing at their throat. Ugh, what a poser, I bet that even before I did that they wouldn’t be able to name 3 MCR songs.. I shove the spy onto the ground as they look up at me almost pleading with their eyes. Ugh it’s disgusting. So I take my dagger and I begin to hit them, it’s at this point I notice that the boring guy stopped speaking and the room was silent except for the occasional blood gurgle. I pull out the persons intestines and that’s when Gorts and my eyes meet across the room. It’s like so romantic like I swear someone casted like stop time or something… him and his pepsi dark eyes… I tuck some of the blood around my tympanum, gods he’s like so hot. Like the hottest I’ve seen in my 40 years of dreadful existence. Then he walks over to me and my heart goes doki doki he knees beside me on the other side of the now corpse and we start making out. No lips no tongue, all teeth. And then we took control of the netherbrain and got married.

The end.

[uninformedartist]

That anon has a pretty good point. Fandoms have been making the kinkiest, most transgressive and perverted shit for decades and will continue to do so. That’s just fandom. But it feels like Viv and the others want to be part of their own fandom.

Obv they’re allowed to enjoy and be proud of their own show, but there’s a reason you don’t see other show runners openly making and promoting fetishy content of their own property, unless that property is itself pornographic in nature.

Like, there’s nothing wrong with making erotica. But you gotta kind of own the fact that this is what you’re doing. Viv wants people to take her show(s) seriously and get invested in the themes and personal journeys of these characters. But she also wants to advertise these same characters as sex objects and sell sexy sexy merch of them. Idk, I just think selling sexy merch of a character you identified as a victim of s*xual abuse is a bad look.

Idk how she can’t see that?

Yeah, we can't blame fandom culture for doing that because it comes with the fandom territory, been done since forever and a fandom is full of individuals good and bad it is what it is. Viv definitely wants to be part of her own fandom, seeing how she interacts like a fan with her fans, liking and even making fanart of her own characters. Not saying thats all bad but believe there should be a level of separation from a professional standpoint because Viv's fandom is unsavoury for the most part. I look at Dana Terrace, she does the same as what I mentioned but still keeps her distance from her fandom for professional reasons, to not make a parasocial relationship with fans good or bad ones and also to prevent being lumped together with the... unsavoury side of her fandom, they're yuck. You're so right, Viv basically wants to have her cake and eat it too, have fetishising fanart/premoting it/having staff do the same but still want to have a show with sensitive themes, characters with trauma etc.

You cannot have both, its disingenuous and inappropriate and just plain wrong but she sees nothing wrong with it. Its profitable and fandom loves it and thus they also see nothing wrong with it and will shut down anyone who may be a victim speaking out how they feel about this or anyone else. Its ultimately a weird parasocial relationship Viv has with her fans that works well in her favor when it comes to backlash, accountability and criticism.

Also going back to Viv and staff making such fanart/merch or whatever that are fetishising in nature about their shows . Ive seen always in the past show runners or staff that did this faced serious backlash and ridicule. Happened with Rebecca Sugar (yes it was not of her show property but Viv has drawn "unsavoury" art of other shows and got no backlash she's still going strong) and thinking off the top of my head staff members of the rise the TMNT got caught drawing show styled p*rn. But so far nothing with Viv's show, yes its raunchy but not straight up sexual in nature plus the serious themes it contains.

Comes really down to the fandom at large calling it out and not agreeing with it. But Viv has cultivated the perfect hive mind fandom, nothing she does or says is wrong to them and thats unlike other fandoms. Taking the SU fandom who yes watched the show but were critical and didn't praise Rebecca like some god who can do no wrong (there is the other part of the SU fandom but talking about the SU fandom in general). Thats not what's happening with Viv so she's getting away with doing all this.

Also I say unsavoury but mean other egregious words.

[pop-punklouis]

ok here we go. some of my 5 star books from the last year or two 🫶🏽

A PLACE FOR US; fatima farheen mirza || contemporary literary fiction. exploration of family dynamics and faith. cannot recommend it enough if u enjoy either of those things in media. it’s one of my favorite books of all time but i do feel a responsibility to say only read it when u have time to sit and cope with it for a while. it WILL leave u a husk of a person! (if u read this and dislike it, you Must lie to me)

TRANSCENDENT KINGDOM; yaa gyasi || contemporary literary fiction. mommy AND daddy issues, dead sibling, arduous relationship with faith, a fair dose of the immigrant experience. not as taxing as the previous rec but definitely still an emotionally heavy read. i need to read it again soon actually i think it’s so stunningly written

BURNT SUGAR; avni doshi || contemporary literary fiction. what can i say about this book. what emotion didnt it make me feel. just the epigraph alone was enough to make me want to drown myself in a vat of acid. the cyclical relationship between mothers and daughters is so fucking sickening and the way it's depicted in this book... my god. i was so miserable reading it and i wouldn’t recommend it anyone who has mommy issues and hasn’t learned how to deal with them. if you dont have mommy issues... you might have them after reading this book who knows. but it’s still 10/10 from me

NINTH HOUSE; leigh bardugo || dark academia, fantasy. loser girl of all time who can see the dead is put in charge of keeping secret societies at yale university in check. a random girl gets murdered and all signs point to one of the societies being responsible. book 3 isnt out yet but it’s sooo yummy u will adore alex she’s my best friend (also has a sexy generationally wealthy white boy. i want to eat him)

THESE VIOLENT DELIGHTS; micah nemerever || dark academia, thriller. definitely one of the crazier books i’ve ever read. batshit insane. two boys develop a delicious friendship that devolves into the worst kind of codependency and results in them murdering someone to make sure they can’t ever replace each other in their lives. gay people can do anything except be normal.

GIOVANNI’S ROOM; james baldwin || classic literary fiction. i don’t think i need to say anything about this. it’s about realizing you don’t know u have a home until you leave it and once you’ve left you can’t ever go home. it’s about isolation—self-inflicted and otherwise. it’s just… everything. everyone should read it. everyone!

HAPPY PLACE; emily henry || contemporary romance. exes who pretend to still be together at their friend group’s annual vacation. i’m not typically a romance novel girl and not everything i’ve read of henry’s has done it for me but this one… i was giggling and twirling my hair. getting flustered and having to take a moment to collect myself. it’s so so good. i do believe it’s miss henry’s best work

THE ROUGHEST DRAFT; austin siegemund-broka & emily wibberley || contemporary romance. cowritten by a married couple about a cowriting duo that hasn’t written together in years. they haven’t spoken since but they’re contractually obligated to put out one more book together. didn’t make me giggle like happy place but i really enjoyed it

seed i love you so very much HELLO!!!! thank you. I've already written all of these down. i cannot wait to dive into their pages.

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Ribbons and Rainstorms

Chapter 14 : One communal banquet

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<- Previous | Masterpost | Next ->

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“Alright, so, we’re planning a picnic.”

“Yes.”

“For all the Gods — plus me and Remus.”

“Indeed.”

“And we’re hosting it here.”

“We are…”

“And it's going to be on the equinox…”

“It is,” Virgil said, leaning against the pillar as Roman furiously wrote on a page of a leather bound book filled with heavy grey-purple paper, “is this new information to you? Because I do regret to inform that we have planned this already, and you may have a memory problem if so.”

“No no,” Roman waved his hand as he continued writing, “Not new information, just stressed.”

Virgil sighed and crouched down next to Roman, gently plucking the quill from his hand. Roman finally looked up from the book.

“Take a break from this,” Virgil said gently, gesturing to the book, “Please.”

Taking a deep breath, Roman pushed the book away. He’d never be able to say no to Virgil, “Okay.”

“Why are you so worried about this?” Virgil asked, “It’s just a picnic, we’ve done many of them, you know what you’re doing.”

“Maybe — but… it’ll be everyone, and— I’m going to be the only mortal there but I’ll be hosting and Virgil I can’t even cook.” Roman said, shaking his hands, “Oh why did I think I could do this—"

“Roman, come here,” Virgil said, gently pulling Roman into a tight embrace, strong enough for the pressure to somehow block out the spiralling thoughts. Virgil ran a hand down Roman’s spine and somehow drew out all the tension in his shoulders with it, “You’ll be okay.”

“Thank you,” Roman mumbled into Virgil’s chest, “How do you always know how to calm me down?”

“I’ve been there,” Virgil said, kissing the top of Roman’s head.

“You have?” Roman asked, “But you’re always so… calm”

“I wasn’t always,” Virgil said, “There was a time — a long, long time ago — when I could barely go days without spiralling, it caused awful storms — stuff that would destroy landmasses, awful — but— that was before you all were here, it was a time of chaos, but… Lo and Pat helped me through it all after they themselves had figured it out, and that’s how I know.”

“Sometimes I forget you’ve been here so much longer than I have,” Roman mumbled, “A picnic seems silly in comparison, doesn’t it?”

“It doesn’t,” Virgil said, “well— maybe it does to you, but to me it’s just as important as everything else we do.”

“Thank you,” Roman told them, looking up, “For helping me, and everything else, I was— I’m overthinking this.”

“Maybe a little,” Virgil said, “No-one will mind that whatever food you bring wasn’t made by yourself, trust me, and if you’re still worried — we could try making something?”

Roman frowned at him, a little confused, “You know how to cook?”

“Uh…” Virgil’s expression became a puzzled frown, “I don’t think so.”

“Well this sounds like a terrible idea,” Roman said, “We should try it.”

Virgil seemed to choke on a laugh in surprise, “If you think you can convince Taz to let us use her kitchen, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“I do suppose that would be the greatest challenge,” Roman nodded, reaching for the book again though he stayed firmly attached to Virgil, “What kind of food do the others like? Do you know?”

“Hm, Lo likes jam,” Virgil said, “So anything with jam is a safe bet, Pat will eat just about anything that contains enough sugar to kill a horse, Jan prefers savoury foods.”

Roman hurried to write down what Virgil was saying, before nodding.

“So… we could make cupcakes — I know everyone enjoyed those — we could make tarts? Some with jam and some others with… I don’t know, cheese or something… maybe pastries?”

“That all sounds like it would be lovely,” Virgil nodded, smiling as Roman continued to write food ideas in a list in his notebook, ready to potentially bake soon enough.

—-

Taz wouldn’t let them use the kitchen. 

She might have trusted Virgil to at least not set anything on fire, but when he mentioned never having cooked before, she put her foot down.

“You two are not burning down my house today,” She said, holding out a hand, “Give me the list, I know you have one.”

Roman rolled his eyes, but pulled the notebook from his bag and handed it to her, open on the page featuring said list. 

“That’s a lot of food for two people honey,” Taz said after reading it over, “Even I wouldn’t give you this much.”

“Oh there’s actually, um, six of us?” Roman said tentatively. He hadn’t yet brought up the subject of the other Gods with his Ma yet, and he hoped not to have to today. If she had passed out at the thought of Virgil, he’d really like to ease her into the fact that he was friendly with the two Gods who she actually worshipped, and he was terrified of how she would react to… Remus.

Not that he didn’t feel awful about keeping that particular piece of knowledge from her — she should know that she could talk to her other son again, but Roman… he just couldn’t tell her. Not yet. Why? He honestly didn’t know.

Maybe he was just scared.

Virgil took his hand and gently nudged his foot with theirs. Roman took a deep breath, and smiled back at his mother, praying that she wouldn’t ask too many questions.

“Okay,” She nodded, “I’m glad you’re making more friends, maybe I’ll be able to meet them soon?”

“I— yeah, definitely! Soon!” Roman nods, “Thank you, ma.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” She said, looking over the list, “When exactly do you need this for?”

“Uh, the weekend.” He said, “Also, please don’t look at the rest of that book.”

“I won’t, hon,” She said, shaking her head, “Privacy.”

“Yeah,” He nodded, before turning to Virgil, “Okay, so, should we go?”

“Where are you two off now?” Taz turned to ask.

“Oh, we actually still need to invite everyone,” Roman chuckled, “Maybe we should have done that first, actually.”

—-

They managed to get around each temple in that one afternoon. For Lo they left a note — because despite warming up to mortals in the two years, they still preferred not to appear before them, and the Library had been particularly crowded that day. 

They had been held up at Pat’s temple, because she was incredibly friendly — as always — and it took almost half an hour for the conversation to actually circle around to the picnic invitation. He had been excited to see Roman again after the last time, and wanted to hear all about the weeks that had passed since they had met. It wasn’t easy for Roman to say no to a God, especially not the Sun God — with how powerful and respected she was, and because they didn’t have the same relationship that he and Virgil did. Eventually, Virgil had needed to cut in so that they could ask what they actually came here to ask. 

Fortunately, Pat was just as excited about the idea of a picnic as Roman and Virgil had thought he would be. 

—-

“What is a picnic,” Jay said, narrowing his eyes at them from where they stood, cloaked in shadow from behind the altar in his temple, “It sounds hellish.”

“No — it’s uh— it’s like, when friends get together and eat food?” Roman said, taking a deep breath, “It’s supposed to be fun.”

“And who else have you invited?” 

“Um, well it’ll be me and Vi, and Pat’s coming. We've also invited Lo, but we haven’t got an answer from them yet,” Roman listed, “I was also hoping you could… bring Remus? Too? If you come at all, that is, of course.”

Jay sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose without responding for a long moment, before stepping out of the shadows so that they were face to face.

“Fine, I’ll come,” Jay said finally, Roman breathed a sigh of relief, “You said there will be food?”

“Indeed,” Roman nodded, “There should be something that everyone who’s coming likes but um— if you’d like to request anything then you’re more than welcome?”

—-

“Everyone should be here soon, it’s nearly noon,” Roman muttered to himself as he laid the food Ma had made for them out neatly in the centre of the large rug he had brought. Virgil wasn’t here yet — Roman had asked him to come at midday, just like everyone else — but admittedly, it did make it a little more difficult to set up by himself. 

Once he had everything set up, ensured that there would be space for everyone to sit and that he had gotten all of the food correctly set out, Roman retreated back into the temple to wait for everyone to arrive — and also retrieve the gifts he’d made for each one of them. 

Now that they were friends, he hoped anyway, they all needed ribbons after all. 

—-

Lo was first to arrive at the temple, at the precise moment the sun reached its peak in the sky, he was sure. After that was Virgil — who was disappointed he hadn’t been the first to arrive. Pat arrived next, all smiles with a box of cookies he had apparently made himself to gift to Roman.

“Do we know if Jay is coming?” Roman asked when the conversation lulled shortly after he led the others outside to the blankets he’d set up. The atmosphere was good, if slightly awkward, which Roman was glad for. He had been worried that they would argue. 

“Did he tell you he would be?” Lo asked, taking a sip from a glass filled with cranberry juice. 

“He did,” Roman nodded, “Though he didn’t seem particularly uh— enthusiastic about the idea.”

“He’ll be here,” Pat said, before leaning across the rug to Roman and stage whispering, “I made sure to mention it in Remus’ earshot so he doesn’t have a choice.”

Virgil sorted, “Yes, I suppose that’ll do it.”

“Ro!”

Roman yelped as he was tackled by his ghost-brother, laughing as he shoved Remus off of him into the grass. 

“Speaking of,” Pat laughed, “Hi Jay! Remus!”

“Hello everyone,” Jay said, sitting down elegantly between Lo and Virgil, “Apologies for my lack of punctuality.”

“No worries,” Roman said, smiling as Remus chose to sit basically on top of Roman by how close he sat, before grabbing a lemon cupcake and shoving the entire thing into his mouth at once. 

“Wonderful,” Jay nodded happily. 

“Okay now that everyone is here,” Roman said, taking a deep breath, “I have something for all of you.” Roman said, before hesitating, “Though — Remus, can you take things back with you?”

“Mhm,” Remus said through a mouthful of a second cake. 

“He can,” Jay nodded, “What… exactly could you give us?”

“Well…” Roman started, unable to help the blush on his cheeks, “I made ribbons, for everyone.”

“Oh!” Pat said, clapping her hands, “Like the ones mortals give each other?”

“Similar to the one you gave to Virgil?” Lo asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Uh— yeah! Exactly,” Roman nodded, reaching into the bag behind him to pull out a small bundle of colourful, embroidered ribbons, “One for each of you, and um, I made a new one for you, Remus… if you want it.”

“Fuck no,” Remus said, hand going up to touch the red ribbon braided into his hair that mirrored Roman’s green one, “I appreciate it, bro, but I’m good with the first one.”

Roman sighed in something close to relief, “Okay, I— I’m glad.”

“You have one for each of us?” Lo asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah! I wanted to make sure you all know that I uh— consider you friends,” He told them, carefully separating the ribbons. The light blue one — patterned with flowers and a sun shape in yellow thread — he passed to Pat. Dark blue with stars and moon embroidered in silver to Lo, and Yellow with a black border he gave to Jay. 

“And… for you Virgil I uh—" Roman took a deep breath, before reaching into the bag again, “I should’ve given this to you way earlier, but I was worried it wouldn’t measure up to the hairpin.”

From the bag he pulled a thin chain, with wire woven through the loops to create the image of silver flowers and leaves as it went. He passed it carefully to Virgil, who took it with just as much care. 

“I thought you could loop it around your circlet,” Roman said, looking away to hide his blush, only to see Remus making silly kiss-faces. He turned back after elbowing his brother hard in the ribs, “Do you… like it?”

“I love it,” Virgil said, tracing a finger over the links of chain and the wire flowers, “It’s beautiful, thank you.”

“Awee!” Patton squealed, hands coming up to cover their mouth and partially hide the expression of delight on her face, “That’s so cute!”

“A very sweet gift, that is practical to wear with their other jewellery,” Lo nodded, “I approve.”

—-

The rest of the afternoon was spent in quiet conversation. The group swapped stories and ate food and talked for hours, each of the Gods attached their ribbons to their person. Janus admitted that he actually already had one — that the plain greenish-yellow ribbon that sat pride of place around his hat had actually been a gift from Remus. He’d tied Roman’s ribbon into his hair. Lo had tied theirs around one of their two buns whilst Pat had wrapped his carefully around an antler. 

The picnic had been a success. 

----

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[prettybutter-flyy]

An Overreaction: A short story.

Ugh. Why won’t I die?

I wake up. Again. Why? I stumble out of bed and head to the bathroom. When I look in the mirror, I try smiling at the man I see - but I don’t even recognize him. When did he age? When did bags begin growing under his eyes? When did he start losing his hair? I don’t feel like the spry, enthusiastic man I once prided myself on being.

In my youth, days started with a spring out of bed and gratitude for the chance to participate in society, to socialize, to connect, to learn! I used to love to move and dance and flirt or, sometimes, even work! The synergetic zeal of getting into a flow or tossing ideas back and forth with people you trust… God, time has beaten that out of me. Beaten me senseless.

I don’t think time is my enemy here, though. Time itself has not robbed me of my faith in humanity - in my faith in myself. A fatherless childhood will do that, too. A promotion that should have gone to me did it. A woman that would have been happier had she picked me did it. Ending up alone in a huge house that I own, with no one to fill it with new memories, did it. So now I haunt my own home, stalking about for stimulation. For purpose.

I am utterly useless, and I seem to be the last one to figure it out. Every single day. When will I die? I roll my eyes in the mirror, dismissing those happy morning thoughts, to actually do my bathroom business.

…

The sun shines through the windows of my house. I don’t feel its warmth on my skin; instead, the air conditioning isolates me from the heat of a Texas summer morning. I take my first bite of the stale breakfast I made for myself today (like I do every day): cereal. The sugar gives me a rush. As I’m eating, the young woman I see every day, jogs down the street.

I wonder where she could possibly get the energy and time to run. Maybe if I didn’t have cereal every morning, I might have some energy to go on an early morning run, I think as I crunch on my Frosted Flakes. I know they’re bad for me, but I love them. I think we all have little vices we indulge in to make life a little more exciting.

I see her every day with her dumb little dog. She usually comes by a couple of times; I assume she does laps around my small block.

Today, she stops in front of my house and takes a deep breath. She is huffing and puffing as she pulls her phone from her pocket and snaps a “selfie.” While she does this, her dumb little dog begins to do its business. Disgusting. Then I chuckle because, judging by the angle the girl was standing, she may have captured her dog in a compromising position.

Then, to my indignation, the woman continues her jog, as if her dog had not just dropped a fat turd on my lawn!

The nerve of this girl! To drop the burden of cleaning up her dog’s bowel movements on me, a feeble old man - what right does she think she has to my time? To my lawn! I feel the rage pent up inside of me—I don’t even finish my cereal. I march myself to my garage, open my garage door, grab a lawn chair from the pile of fishing gear in the corner, march myself to the lawn, and set my chair—and my butt—next to the stinky excrement.

The smell is potent, and my anger is all-consuming. The hot morning air was likely to thank for that. But I stayed there. She comes down the street multiple times a day, every weekday (I know this because we often wave to each other), and it is Friday. She will be back. And she will answer for this crime. And it is a crime; in this county, it is LAW that you must pick up after your dog. I should call the police! They can air her out without much escalation. As much as I would enjoy teaching her a lesson, they can teach her a much more expensive lesson. One that will ruin her month(ly budget).

I seethe. Much like the stench of this dog dropping, I am festering in this Texas heat—really, how can anyone run in this?! My vexation jumps out of my body, tapping my toe to the ground, crossing my arms so tightly I fear I may get a heat stroke.

When she turns the corner for the second time, her dog trotting along her side, I begin to shake. Her stupid dog’s happy little face also enrages me. The woman smiles and waves at me—like she usually does—as she runs closer and closer. I feel my own heartbeat in my chest, my face puffy and red, as if I'm the one running.

I stand and wave back at her angrily to get her attention. “You’ve got some nerve!”

Now she seems to understand that I’m talking to her. She slows her jog until she’s jogging in place and takes out one of those high-tech earphones from her right ear and places it in her hand.

“Excuse me?” the woman stops jogging in place. The dog sits, calmly, happily. “Is something wrong?” She’s not even tired from the running, no panting. I don’t think I even see the glisten of sweat! What is she? Some kind of Olympian?

“‘oH Is SoMetHiNg WrOnG?’” I mock her. “Uh, yeah, you let your dog poop on my lawn, and you just left it here to stink up the whole neighborhood!”

“Oh!” She covers her mouth, eyes wide with embarrassment. She is older than I’d thought, maybe only 20 years younger than me. Up close, she has kind eyes and a muscular build. She pulls a bag out of her pocket. “I’m so sorry! Max here pooped before we got to this house, and I had to use my last bag, but I just ran to get some more so I could clean it up when I looped back around!” She bends down to pick up the poop and pet her Max. “I’m sorry!”

“Good!” I grunt, “Don’t you EVER pull an entitled, lazy stunt like that again!”

She continues to make excuses, like she’s some quirky awkward protagonist in a coming of age movie, “It’s funny, when this happens, I take a picture of the house he did it on, go grab a bag, and come back!” She shows me the photos on her phone, which she wasn’t in at all. Just the mailbox and the dog poop. She swipes a couple of times to show similar photos.

I scoff, “So this happens often?”

“I mean, as often as it happens to most dog owners.” She fiddles with the bag.

I roll my eyes at her back-sass. “Well, I should have called the cops. They’d teach you some kind of lesson about personal responsibility. What, do you think everyone just cleans up after you? That you’re the main character of the world? Is that why you think you can just do whatever you want to other people’s property?”

“I don’t think,” she stammers. “I just—” She looked like she may cry.

So I continue. Maybe I can scream a tear or two out.

“You probably don’t even own a house in this neighborhood, do you? You’re probably a renter, aren’t you? Because if you owned a house, you would understand what it was like to keep your shit nice and protect it from those who want to destroy the life you’ve made for yourself!”

“No one else has had a problem with me here. I pick it up every single time! I didn’t mean to disrespect you but what was I supposed to do? Pick it up with my hand?”

“You don’t know ANYTHING about respect! I had to work for 55 years before I could finally retire in this house. I’ve taken care of it every day of my life, because I RESPECT my things. My lawn is not public property! Stay off of it, or I will call the police next time! It’s illegal to not clean up your dog’s SHIT!” I spit at her. As I speak, the embarrassment in her eyes fades and changes to something else. A different type of embarrassment?

The woman was (probably) about to give me another round of excuses, but almost like someone flipped a switch in her brain, her face eases. “Ohhhhh,” she says as she puts her earphone back in her ear. “You just want to argue with someone.” She begins to jog away, almost nonchalantly. Almost.

“I do not!” I start shouting again. “You need to learn some goddamn respect! What, your generation can’t even have a conversation without getting oFfEnDEd? Do you know how much a fine for littering—”

She whips back around, angrily, ripping out both of her fancy earphones this time. For a second, I feared she might hit me. The calm runner I saw every day was gone. She was basically panting, like what she was about to say would take all the energy she had left.

“You came outside from your rEspECtaBle, cold air-conditioned paid-off retirement home to sit in the hot Texas sun with DOG SHIT. And then you yelled at me for a misunderstanding that—” she holds up the doggy bag. “I HAVE CORRECTED and have apologized for, and now… you’re STILL yelling at me?” She scoffs. “Because you know soooo much about respect!”

She shoves her earphones back into her ears and she and her dog skip along their merry way, but not before leaving me with a pitiful, “You’ve got nothing better to do.”

I watch her jog away, the sun cooking my skin. I could just run with her. I used to have energy like that, long ago. Now I glance back at my home, not wanting to go back in.

…

After putting up my lawn chair and closing my garage, I return to the kitchen table. My skin cools down, and it feels as if someone’s poured ice water on my fire. That other embarrassment was pity. I know, because I feel it for myself now. I return to my cereal. It is soggy.

[light-end-dragon]

Chapter 2

(Hallway)

Nazuna: Well, if you’re enjoying it, Mako-chin, I might as well try it too.

Nazuna: Huh-you’re the one who made this? Is it that easy to make frozen yogurt?

Makoto: You do like to have a go at anything you come across, don’t you, Anzu-chan? 

Makoto: I know you’ve made those konpeito cream puffs before, if only because Hidaka-kun liked them so much he said he was going to bring some home with him.

Nazuna: Hm.. well, it's definitely simpler than cream puffs. Yogurt, water, and sugar…if it’s that easy, I might be able to make it myself.~ 

Nazuna: I should take them along for our next practice as Ra*bits.♪ Anzu, do you think you could write the recipe down so I don’t forget? 

Nazuna: Thank you-ehehe, they’re gonna be real happy, I’m sure.♪

Makoto: It’s really admirable that you get things for your juniors in Ra*bits, even though you’re the leader of the group…♪

Nazuna: Just because I’m the leader doesn’t mean they should treat me any more special. Things would just get really sour if I was all arrogant. 

Nazuna: Besides, as Ra*bits, we practically sell on the fact that we’re all cute and friendly with each other. 

Nazuna: I’m just a third year student; I’d hate if people started to fuss around about it.

Nazuna: Besides, don’t you get things for your group, too? And you’re their leader. 

Makoto: That’s true, now that you say that. Though all of us in Trickstar are in the same class as each other….

Makoto: Anzu-chan had been giving them things up until a little while ago, so they all act like spoiled children. 

Makoto: You do that even now whenever we are working together. 

Makoto: Thank you for the always wonderful refreshments, Anzu-chan…♪

Nazuna: Mako-chin, Anzu; as much as I’m enjoying the conversation, lunch break is gonna be ending soon. Are we going to the store to buy ice cream? 

Makoto: Oh, that’s a good point. Let’s go over to the store then-we can continue talking while we buy it!♪

—--

(School Store)

Makoto: Frozen ice for Nito-senpai, and Anzu-chan’s frozen yogurt….and I’m looking for ice cream, so that should be all that we have to look for. 

Nazuna: Yeah. Oh, but that ice cream you wanted, it seems there's only one left?

Nazuna: It’s probably really cold since all the others got bought out. 

Makoto: Well, I guess it’s not surprising everyone else had the same idea since it’s so hot out, huh? Like you, Anzu-chan. 

Makoto: Ah, no, you don’t need to take your money out. This is my treat.~♪

Nazuna: Huh? Mako-chin, did you have some extra income stashed away somewhere? 

Makoto: It’s just me thanking you for giving me that tea earlier, and Anzu-chan for always being our producer…♪

Makoto: Anzu-chan, if you would. Eat it quick, before it melts!♪

Makoto: And the frozen ice for Nito-senpai….is the type that snaps down the middle okay? I can get something else for you…

Nazuna: No, I like those ones! Thank you, Mako-chin.♪

-----

(Hallway)

Makoto: Ah, it feels so good in my mouth~ The chocolate flavor matches so perfectly, I almost want to eat the rest of them…mphmph.

Nazuna: Mako-chin, you’ll just get more thirsty if you eat all that sweet ice cream. Here, take one of mine.♪

Makoto: Oh, um…it’s okay. I mean, aren’t you thirsty too, Nito-senpai?  

Nazuna: I have more than enough to go around. Besides, this was your treat in the first place, so don’t hold back for my sake. Here you go~☆

Makoto: W-well, I suppose holding back too much isn’t great either….then I happily accept.♪

Nazuna: Nom…mm……God, it’s good! Anzu, don’t just stand around in a daze; your yogurt is gonna melt! Come on, eat it-quickly! 

Makoto: Nito-senpai, did you want a taste of mine? Anzu-chan, you try some  too-there’s plenty more where that came from.

Nazuna: Thank you, Mako-chin! Mmm, this ice cream’s really good too. 

Nazuna: …Hm? Anzu, why are you just staring at the cover? Did it not come with a spoon? 

Nazuna: It doesn’t look like it….Oh, now I see. You got a “winner!” 

Makoto: Wow, really? You got a winner! Every time I have an ice cream that has one of those vouchers, I get all nervous opening it. Like ‘is this going to be the time?’ 

Makoto: I’m sorry to say it looks like the one I got here is a dud.

Nazuna: Same here. What do you wanna do, Anzu? We still have a little bit of time before our lunch break is up-do you want to go and exchange it? 

Nazuna: Oh, you didn’t even finish the first one, so you’d feel bad getting another, huh? 

Nazuna: Well, it doesn’t look like there’s a time limit. Why do you go and use it later when you’re hungry again? 

Nazuna: Okay, let’s do that! 

Nazuna: Do I want a bite? Are you trying to give me the same recommendation as Mako-chin? I’m already full, but I’ll accept your kind feelings regardless.♪

Yuuta: W-what should I do…I thought about going all the way to the staff room, but should I really leave him like that….? 

Yuuta: Ughhh, I’m worried. I need to go back and check on him….! 

Makoto: Was that Yuuta-kun just now? He seemed pretty flustered about something.

Nazuna: Now I’m worried too….come on, Mako-chin, let’s go see if we can find him and ask!

[simmerdowndee]

windenburg years episode three: the bridal shower

Theo and I are tasting wedding cakes today. We narrowed it down to four flavors that we both like, but I am having trouble trying to pick one out of the four.

Dakota: The carrot cake is so good.

Theo: It is, but I have a feeling there won’t be many people who like it.

Dakota: They aren’t getting married, now, are they?

Theo: *Laughs*

Theo: What about the almond?

Dakota: I love the almond.

Dakota: I also love the chocolate.

Dakota: Oh my god, which one do we pick??

Theo: I am okay with –

Dakota: What if we do all four flavors?

Theo:……… we are not paying for four different flavors.

Dakota: But we wouldn’t have to pick!

Theo: Where is all that cake going babe?

Dakota: Good point.

Theo: I say we do the almond or chocolate.

Dakota: Half and half?

Theo: We could do that.

Dakota: Yay! Its settled.

Now I have a sugar high from eating 4 full pieces of cake essentially.

Theo and I clean the table and chat for a bit.

Theo: So, Laura and Chloe are coming in?

Dakota: Yes, they are throwing me a bridal shower….

Theo: Why do you seem so down about its babe?

Dakota: It’s just going to be us three I think…. It's more like a bridal drizzle.

Theo: *Laughs*

Dakota: We’ve been here for half a year already and I still don’t know many people. Meanwhile you have an entire book of people you’ve become acquainted with…

Theo: It’s because of work.

Dakota: Well, I work around uptight lawyers all day.

Dakota: And my mom couldn’t make it because she was attending something with my dad back home.

Dakota: Maybe I should just tell them not to worry about it and we can just have lunch together.

Theo: I think you should just let the girls handle it and enjoy the day. Maybe they invited other people?

Dakota: Who knows.

Theo: You’re going to have a great time regardless babe.

Dakota: I hope so….

Theo: You will.

I know I’ll have a good time with Laura and Chloe but again, it doesn’t really seem like a bridal shower seeing I only have two guests, and both are throwing the party for me… I meet with them tomorrow, so I’ll just ask about it then…

[eternxlstar-archive]

soulprompts​:

𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 (𝐏𝐓. 𝟏)

so, i absolutely love cooking! it’s a passion of mine, i’ve been cooking for my family for years, people seem to find my food edible enough, and i recently found myself unable to cook at all for about a week, resulting in this little list coming into existence! i’m most likely going to make more of these, simply because the dynamics in a kitchen are varied as hell, right? we have romantic couples who cook together as a hobby, there’s professional restaurant kitchen settings, baking oriented stuff, cooking with kids, there’s a LOT to be done w the topic! so these are more for the chaos of someone who cannot boil an egg to save their life, vs. someone who enjoys cooking and is widely considered to be a dab hand at it! DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST! but i do hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed making it!

“ hey, hey, it’s okay! we’ll scrape off the burnt bits! ”

“ here, let me chop the onions, okay? you can dice the peppers and beef; just be sure to do them on separate boards, yeah? ”

“ you… you know the wine was for the stew, don’t you?! ”

“ i swear to you, i don’t know how this happened. i followed every single instruction, word for word! ”

“ taste this and tell me what you think! ”

“ oh my god… this is AMAZING! you should have your own cooking show! ”

“ you’re kidding me! no way this whole thing is vegan! it’s just too good! ”

“ so, um… i might have possibly accidentally tipped the entire jar of cayenne pepper into the soup… and by might have, i mean definitely. ”

“ i think i’m gonna have to ask you to leave the kitchen before you hurt somebody. ”

“ it says here to fold in the eggs… now, tell me, how exactly does one do that? ”

“ i might have over-exaggerated my cooking skills… and blown up the oven. ”

“ look, it sounds gross, but i’m telling you, when it’s cooked right, it’s the best thing ever! ”

“ i lied to my date and now they think i’m this amazing cook when i’m absolutely not, so please, can you spare me the lecture and just teach me how to cook? ”

“ woah, woah, woah… try chopping like this. yeah, that’s it. you won’t chop off your hand this way. ”

“ so, um… how exactly did it manage to stay frozen solid on the inside, but scorch to a crisp on the outside? ”

“ okay, remember when it asked for fifty grams of sugar? yeah. i accidentally used salt. ”

“ well, at least we know the smoke alarms work, right? ”

“ i ruined three knives, i have a roast chicken embedded in my ceiling, my oven officially needs therapy, and so do i! wanna call it quits and order a pizza? ”

“ i swear, you’re one of those kitchen gods who can make ice cubes taste fantastic! ”

“ this is the fun part! take that tenderiser, and beat the absolute crap out of that pile of steaks. ”

“ i’m trying so hard not to judge you right now, but… onion goggles?! ”

“ how on earth did you get pasta sauce on the ceiling? ”

“ you know every single firefighter in town knows my name? and my top three favorite comfort foods to bring each time i trigger the fire alarm? yeah. that’s my culinary reputation. ”

“ hey. it’s okay. this isn’t the first time i’ve burnt dinner. i have taco bell on speed dial. ”

“ sometimes recipes just don’t work out. and that’s okay! what matters is that you tried. ”

“ i didn’t realize it was even possible to burn water! ”

“ ah… i see where you went wrong. the recipe uses paprika. this is chilli powder. ”

“ quit eating the batter, or we’ll have no cupcakes at all! ”

“ no! no way. i’m not tasting anything cooked by you; not since your orange juice gave me food poisoning. ”

“ the last time i tried to cook, my pot roast ended up on fire and put a hole in my dry wall. i had to hang paintings over it until i could refill the crater. ”

“ no, you cannot cook chicken medium-rare. wanna know why? because that means it’s raw. and you’ll end up with food poisoning. and i’ll have to tell you what a moron you were to even think that was an acceptable thing to do in the first place. ”

“ i thought you teaching me how to cook would be all soft and friendly, like the great british bake-off! but it’s more like hell’s kitchen. ”

“ no tears in my kitchen, thank you! ”

“ six fires in three hours is your personal best! only problem is, we’re making fruit salad… ”

“ i understand that it’s meant to be salted caramel, but… exactly how much salt did you use?! ”

𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 (𝐏𝐓. 𝟏)

so, i absolutely love cooking! it's a passion of mine, i've been cooking for my family for years, people seem to find my food edible enough, and i recently found myself unable to cook at all for about a week, resulting in this little list coming into existence! i'm most likely going to make more of these, simply because the dynamics in a kitchen are varied as hell, right? we have romantic couples who cook together as a hobby, there's professional restaurant kitchen settings, baking oriented stuff, cooking with kids, there's a LOT to be done w the topic! so these are more for the chaos of someone who cannot boil an egg to save their life, vs. someone who enjoys cooking and is widely considered to be a dab hand at it! DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST! but i do hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed making it!

" hey, hey, it's okay! we'll scrape off the burnt bits! "

" here, let me chop the onions, okay? you can dice the peppers and beef; just be sure to do them on separate boards, yeah? "

" you... you know the wine was for the stew, don't you?! "

" i swear to you, i don't know how this happened. i followed every single instruction, word for word! "

" taste this and tell me what you think! "

" oh my god... this is AMAZING! you should have your own cooking show! "

" you're kidding me! no way this whole thing is vegan! it's just too good! "

" so, um... i might have possibly accidentally tipped the entire jar of cayenne pepper into the soup... and by might have, i mean definitely. "

" i think i'm gonna have to ask you to leave the kitchen before you hurt somebody. "

" it says here to fold in the eggs... now, tell me, how exactly does one do that? "

" i might have over-exaggerated my cooking skills... and blown up the oven. "

" look, it sounds gross, but i'm telling you, when it's cooked right, it's the best thing ever! "

" i lied to my date and now they think i'm this amazing cook when i'm absolutely not, so please, can you spare me the lecture and just teach me how to cook? "

" woah, woah, woah... try chopping like this. yeah, that's it. you won't chop off your hand this way. "

" so, um... how exactly did it manage to stay frozen solid on the inside, but scorch to a crisp on the outside? "

" okay, remember when it asked for fifty grams of sugar? yeah. i accidentally used salt. "

" well, at least we know the smoke alarms work, right? "

" i ruined three knives, i have a roast chicken embedded in my ceiling, my oven officially needs therapy, and so do i! wanna call it quits and order a pizza? "

" i swear, you're one of those kitchen gods who can make ice cubes taste fantastic! "

" this is the fun part! take that tenderiser, and beat the absolute crap out of that pile of steaks. "

" i'm trying so hard not to judge you right now, but... onion goggles?! "

" how on earth did you get pasta sauce on the ceiling? "

" you know every single firefighter in town knows my name? and my top three favorite comfort foods to bring each time i trigger the fire alarm? yeah. that's my culinary reputation. "

" hey. it's okay. this isn't the first time i've burnt dinner. i have taco bell on speed dial. "

" sometimes recipes just don't work out. and that's okay! what matters is that you tried. "

" i didn't realize it was even possible to burn water! "

" ah... i see where you went wrong. the recipe uses paprika. this is chilli powder. "

" quit eating the batter, or we'll have no cupcakes at all! "

" no! no way. i'm not tasting anything cooked by you; not since your orange juice gave me food poisoning. "

" the last time i tried to cook, my pot roast ended up on fire and put a hole in my dry wall. i had to hang paintings over it until i could refill the crater. "

" no, you cannot cook chicken medium-rare. wanna know why? because that means it's raw. and you'll end up with food poisoning. and i'll have to tell you what a moron you were to even think that was an acceptable thing to do in the first place. "

" i thought you teaching me how to cook would be all soft and friendly, like the great british bake-off! but it's more like hell's kitchen. "

" no tears in my kitchen, thank you! "

" six fires in three hours is your personal best! only problem is, we're making fruit salad... "

" i understand that it's meant to be salted caramel, but... exactly how much salt did you use?! "

[jarofstyles]

“don’t kiss me”

this can be some cute funny fluff or some awful heartbreaking angst you have creative freedom bestie

We love a good fluff moment tbh

Check out our Patreon!

—-

“No! Do not!” You squealed, trying to wriggle out of his arms. “You’ve got chocolate all over your face- Harry, I swear to fucking god!”

“What?! You don’t want a kiss?” You could hear the shit eating grin in his voice, feeling his fingers. “Not even when you put all that frosting in my face like a little devil? Don’t you want to taste it?” He was clutching you to his side despite your efforts to escape, his strength an advantage for once.

“No! You were too quick. I can’t- the chocolate will make me breakout if you put it all over my face!” You squirmed to not avail, squealing when he pinned you against the wall and flipped you over. There was no use, but you were a fighter! Of course smearing the cupcake icing on his face had been a hilarious idea at the time, but you hadn’t thought it through at all. You were trying hard to be good but it was a failure. You had to mess with him at least once a day to keep up your funny girl charisma.

“Should have thought about that before doin’ this. What did you think, hm? That I’d let you get away with this? Besides.” He snugly fit his leg in between yours, keeping you trapped. “You loooove chocolate. And you love me.” He pinched your chin, raising your lips up to his own. “Now you’ve got to suffer for your crimes, though I think you’ll enjoy it.”

There was no time to deny him, sugary lips covering your own. The taste of the rich frosting was pressed into your mouth as he kissed you harder. The stickiness of the sugary cream was smeared on your chin, but honestly? You were a sucker for him. The fighting stopped, the hands pushing his chest turned into clutching of his now messy tee shirt as his tongue brushed your bottom lip.

“You fucker.” You laughed against his mouth, cut off with another deeper kiss that had more of the sugary icing melting between your two tongues. His kisses were always sweet, but this was almost worthy of a toothache. Your makeup was utterly ruined, no doubt feeling the slight grain of the sugar against your skin as his nose brushed yours and made more of a mess, but it was a worthy price to pay for such a trick.

[outerbankies]

new light outtake: coming home

the ooey gooey lead up to the rose and ward anniversary party that never was. would’ve taken place sometime in their spring semester at college! this has a few call backs that might not make sense this far out, but such is life. enjoy!

Hey sweet girl. Busy?

hi! baking for the boys rn what’s up

FT?

call whenever 🥺 miss ur cute face

Rafe’s contact photo—one you took of him on the Druthers last summer—pops up instantly. You wash your hands of the almond flour currently coating them, drying your hands to answer the call as quickly as you can.

Upon answering, Rafe has the camera held obnoxiously close to his face, but he’s pulling it back immediately once he sees you. Or rather, what you’re wearing.

“An apron?” he grins, and you know that twinkle in his eye. It’s that one he gets when he’s about to tease you. “What are you making? Should I dispatch the fire department?”

“Oh, very funny. It’s just bread,” you answer, leaning down on your elbows to crouch down into his view, where you’d set your phone up against the backsplash of Agnes’s massive kitchen. “Also. Hi.”

“Hi,” he says softly, smiling again, eyes roaming your features through the no-doubt grainy view he has. “Let me guess, it’s gluten free, vegan, dairy-free—“

“Vegan tends to imply dairy-free.”

“—and sugar-free, organic, fun-free.”

“Yes, to all of the above,” you giggle, swiping his face into a smaller square so you can re-check the Agnes-approved recipe again. Rafe hadn’t been far-off base at all; it’d be a miracle if this turned out edible, but you know the boys won’t care.

“Who’s around?” Rafe asks.

You furrow your eyebrows, craning your neck to check for two mop-heads in the living room, playing with their various Montessori toys. Barron does something that makes Beckham giggle, and you can’t help but smile. “The boys are both in the living room.”

“Good. Anyways, can’t believe the alcohol in Beau’s study could incapacitate an army but Agnes won’t let him eat eggs.”

“It’s called balance?” you try, but your eyebrows furrow, and Rafe’s expectant look makes you laugh. “It’s just like Figure 8.”

“Just like Figure 8,” Rafe echoes, his voice quiet all of a sudden. “Hey, speaking of…”

You enlarge the FaceTime square once again, and his expression is crestfallen.

“Baby,” you say, worried suddenly. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing next weekend?” he asks.

“Next weekend?” you wonder aloud, taken aback at the topic change. Rafe’s look urges you on, so you mentally check your calendar. “They’re taking the boys to one of the National Parks. And I think I have a social with my capstone downtown.”

“So you’re not going to the park with them?” Rafe asks.

“No,” you say, turning to pull a bread pan out of the cabinet behind you, still mindful of Rafe’s eyebrow line and voice inflections. “One of those, uh, what did we call them?”

“Ah. The parenting weekends.”

“Yes. They’re doing a parenting weekend in Utah,” you say. “Or somewhere. I don’t remember.”

“Is it selfish if I ask for a favor on one of your off weekends?”

You pause where you were about to pick up the bowl, ready to start pouring the batter, picking up the phone again. “Rafe, what are you talking about it?”

“I was thinking you could meet me at home,” he says, all at once on a quick exhale. “I’m looking at flights right now, you could be in OBX by Friday night, back in California by Sunday after—”

“Home?” you balk. “Like, home, home? What are you—what are you going home for?”

“It’s my dad and Rose’s wedding anniversary. 15th,” Rafe says.

“Rafe—next weekend, Rafe. Oh my god,” you gasp. You swipe his face back into the corner to start Googling. “Okay, I can call my mom’s flower guy, a week and a half out is fine. But gifts—I’m gonna have to get to the city this weekend, nothing else will ship in time—”

“Baby,” Rafe interrupts. “Take a breath.”

“Rafe Leopold, how could you not tell me—”

“Easy, easy!” Rafe says, and even when he’s pissing you off, you love that you got him to smile again. “You think I’d forget that? I put your name in the card and everything, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

You pause, skeptical. “You did? What did we get them?”

“I’ll send you a link later, don’t worry about it,” Rafe says. “It’s all taken care of.”

“Okay,” you breathe.

“Okay?” Rafe smiles. You smile back, noticing the way his face starts to fall again. “The thing is… they’re having a dinner.”

“A dinner,” you nod. “Like, a big dinner?”

“Mm, hundred people,” Rafe says.

“Okay,” you laugh. “So, a party?”

“A party,” he sighs. “That’s all. I’ll probably only stay two hours, and I just thought—I think I’d feel better if I could just come see you after?”

“After?” you ask.

“Yeah?” he replies, looking confused.

“Rafe, I have to ask. And I don’t want you to lie to me,” you say calmly. “Did your dad tell you to not invite me?”

“What?” Rafe asks. “No, baby. No, I didn’t even think to ask because you wouldn’t… you don’t wanna come, do you?”

“Rafe, of course I’d go with you,” you say. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You don’t have to, Y/n. Honestly, just having you out there is enough,” he says.

You pick the bowl back up again, finally pouring the batter into the pan. You refuse to look at him, but small smile on your face betrays you anyway. “Dress code?”

“You know Rose. Black tie.”

“Good thing I still have three colors of that dress to wear,” you continue. “What color is your suit?”

“It’s gray,” he smiles, catching on.

“I think the cream will probably look cute with that,” you say coyly.

“We’ll be adorable. Sweetheart. For real?” he asks, cheeks dusted red.

“Of course, Rafe,” you say, picking up your phone again. “It’ll be good to see my parents, too. Maybe I’ll even surprise them.”

“And Wilbur.”

You roll your eyes. “And Wilbur.”

“Have I ever mentioned how I am deeply, madly in love with you?” your boyfriend asks.

“Once or twice,” you tease. “Send me the flight you were looking at so I can book it?”

You glance at Rafe precariously, and now it’s his turn to roll his eyes at you. “You’d take off at 11am Friday and be back by 9pm on Sunday. Window seat?”

“Please.”

Rafe’s already typing in the background, pulling his wallet out of his backpack hanging over the back of his chair. He pauses, looking back down at you. “I love you.”

“Love you.”

“And I missed your cute face, too.”

—

“God, I am so sick of long distance.”

Rafe huffs the words out against your lips—breath warm in the cold night air—pulling back from where you’d essentially glued your own to his as soon as you saw him waiting near his truck for you.

His lips are swollen, a little bit of your chapstick visible on the skin beside his soft lower lip. Your thumb reaches out to wipe it off instinctively, but feeling his lip under your touch just makes you need to lean in again, Rafe letting out a pleased hum like some sort of wordless agreement that he also can’t keep his hands off of you.

He indulges you for a bit longer before he’s pulling off of you again. You whine, and Rafe just laughs, kissing you one more time before he’s letting you pepper kisses across his chin.

“Me too,” you agree, verbally this time, arms winding around his shoulders. Rafe stands up straight from where he’d leant down, taking you with him, and you can’t resist wrapping your legs around his waist—cheesy as it is. The dramatic airport and ferry dock reunions never really lost their power for either of you. “You look tired.”

Rafe smiles down at you, the droop in his eyes appearing again. You stroke a thumb right under his eye, pressing softly into the dark grey circle like you can will it away. “I am.”

“Hm,” you hum, fidgeting until he drops you from his hold again. “Work rough this week?”

“A little,” Rafe admits, putting your suitcase in his backseat. “Had to get everything sorted out so we can all take the weekend off.”

“How’s party prep?”

“Rose has it all dialed,” he says. “Seems like it’s gonna be really nice, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Rafe smiles, ushering you inside of his truck. “Especially with you there, of course.”

You smile, leaning in for another kiss before he shuts the door and circles around. “Should’ve invited Kelce, too. Honestly, I would’ve even taken Topper.”

He rolls his eyes, throwing the truck in reverse, a hand resting on the back of your seat. “Why? So you guys can get drunk and embarrass me?”

You had lent in to kiss his hand, but go for a soft bite instead at his comment—Rafe is unperturbed. “No. Is John B coming? Because you know we’ll do that anyways.”

He gives you a look.

“Teasing, baby,” you digress. “You just usually have other stuff to do, I get bored. Which is fine, I just—”

“This should be different,” Rafe interrupts, hand reaching to rest on your thigh. “Not really a business thing.”

You just nod, knowing in the back of your mind that everything with Ward is a business thing.

“And don’t worry, your little bestie Routledge got an invite too.”