#buy baby bicycle

[avoncycles]

When purchasing a cycle for kids of two years to 12, here are some factors to consider: # Size # Weight # Brakes # Training Wheels # Gears # Safety features # Durability

Based on the above factors, here are the popular cycles from Avon Cycles stable. Kids' bicycle prices are affordable with worthwhile performance to ensure your child a comfortable, safe, and enjoyable ride. # STEP UP 14T # SUNNY 20T # CHARGE 20 T # INSPIRO 20T

[augustinewrites]

satoru absolutely does not know how to ride a bike idk how i know this but i know cw: suggestive content, mdni

“that was…good,” satoru settles on, still unable to properly articulate. he whines, still a little lightheaded and breathless as you roll off of him with a laugh, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before tucking yourself into his side.

“just good?” you tease, fingertips gliding over his chest. “if i’d known there was going to be a review, i’d have done that thing with my hips that you like.”

you roll your hips against his thigh, sending a warm chill down satoru’s spine. 

“don’t do that,” he warns, but his face is flushed and he can feel himself getting hard again. “unless you want to leave the kids at your dad’s for another night.”

“oh! speaking of the kids!” your sweet movements stop abruptly, causing him to peek one eye open to send you a long suffering look. “my father bought the kids bikes yesterday, and i told him you’d teach them how to ride them.”

now, it’s no secret that gojo satoru is good at a lot of things. 

he can manipulate the infinity around him and exorcise special grade curses with the flick of his wrist. he knows the words to every avicii song and can make mug cakes that don’t always explode in the microwave. 

there’s only one thing he can’t do. 

“i remember when my dad taught me,” you sigh. there’s a fondness in your eyes as you describe the memory. it’s something special and cherished, and satoru wants that for his kids. 

_____

“this isn’t funny, shoko!” 

“you’re right.”

“thank you—”

“because it’s hilarious. gojo satoru, the strongest sorcerer of our time, never learned how to ride a bicycle.” 

she trails off in a fit of laughter. satoru hasn’t heard her laugh like this in a long time, and he’d be ecstatic if her amusement hadn’t come at his expense. 

“i didn’t have anyone willing to teach me!” he tells her, huffing. “it was all cursed technique this and cursed technique that. not to mention bikes are literal death traps on wheels.”

“motorcycles are death traps on wheels. bicycles are for babies,” she corrects, though he can still hear the laughter bubbling in her response. “why’d you even agree to teach them?”

“because she did this super hot thing with her hips, but focus!” he whispers harshly. “i can’t teach the kids how to ride a bike! what if i just bought a car—”

“only you would try to buy a car for an 11 year old.”

“not for megumi. tsumiki’s basically 13. she can start learning so when she’s old enough—”

“so tsumiki is going to learn how to drive before you learn how to ride a bike? you are so tragic,” she snickers. 

well, it sounds lame when she puts it like that.

he looks up when the sound of the shower running stops. “and you’re useless,” he growls into the phone. “i’ll ask nanami.” 

_____

NOT GOJO 

[shoko]: i heard gojo’s teaching the kids how to ride their bikes

[you]: yeah :) i’m so excited!

[shoko]: me too.

[shoko]: can you send videos?

[nanami]: I would also like to see videos. 

[you]: sure. but why the interest?

[shoko]: bcs i care about them and want to celebrate their achievements

[you]: you didn’t come to megumi’s violin recital because you said you valued your eardrums. 

[nanami]: It will be a fun moment to look back on when they’re older. 

[shoko] yeah that ^

[you]: fine i’ll send videos.

______

the sun is just beginning to set and the city beginning to settle when you take the kids to the park. 

“i really think—”

“satoru, we are not teaching megumi how to teleport to school.”

“but if he uses the shadows—”

you thrust a helmet into his hands, stern look shutting him up immediately. 

“fuck,” he mumbles once your back is turned to help the kids. he shoves the helmet onto his head and buckles it tightly.

the kids walk over to him with their little bikes, the huge helmets on their head making them look like bobble heads. 

you document his torture with a quick photo before giving him the floor. 

“riding a bike is…super simple,” he tells them, patting the seat of your bike. “you get on, put your feet on the pedals, and…pedal.”

the kids only stare at him, confused looks on their cute faces. 

“maybe you should just show them,” you suggest. 

“why don’t you show them?” he quickly deflects. please please please—

“no! i’m taking the video!” 

fuck.

satoru grips the handles of the bike tightly. he’s faced the worst of the worst, died and come back to life. he could ride a stupid bike.

he kicks at the stand your bike is leaning on, getting it up on the fourth kick. he swings his right leg over so he’s straddling the seat, his feet planted firmly on the ground.

it can’t be that hard, can it?

“watch and learn, kids.”

he takes a breath, then pushes off and places his feet on the pedals.

the bike rolls forward slowly. it’s wobbly at best, but he’s doing it. he’s doing it! he picks up a little momentum, heading off into the sunset—

“satoru! don’t lead them downhill!”

sure enough, the path in front of him leads down a slight decline. he squeezes the brakes and jerks to the side, sending him toppling over the bike and into the grass.

as he lays in the grass, dazed, megumi and tsumiki bike right past him. he’s sure the former even rolls his eyes.

“they have training wheels,” he says when you run over to check on him. “they’re cheating—”

“do you not know how to ride a bike?!”

“i never learned,” he grumbles, cheeks blushing at the admission. 

“oh, honey,” you sigh, brushing some grass from his shirt. “why didn’t you just tell me?”

you kiss his brow, unable to hold back your laughter as he pouts. “you were so excited about me teaching them. didn’t want to disappoint anyone.”

“you could never disappoint us,” you tell him firmly. “now come on, i’ll teach all three of you.”

so you teach him, holding onto the back of his bike until he’s steady, until he’s confident enough to do it on his own. 

he’ll get the hang of it eventually.

[rederiswrites]

Look, I think if you're a US citizen you should go on Youtube and watch the debate, or at least some of the chunks of it where the topic matters most to you. You can't counter the arguments if you don't know what arguments they're making. And no, I don't mean arguing with your aunt that drank the conspiracy koolaid. I mean that there are genuinely a lot of people out there hearing what Trump is saying and thinking, "I don't know. That sounds really scary."

So know what he said, and know not just THAT he lied, but HOW he lied.

Sometimes, it's easy. There are no "abortions" after a baby is born. That would be uhhh let's see MURDER and it's already pretty illegal everywhere and absolutely no one is trying to change that. The comment Trump attributed to former VA governor Ralph Northam is completely misrepresented. Northam (whom I am not defending as a person, by the way) was commenting on the subject of *non-viable* pregnancies that represented a health risk to the mother. Nobody was talking about killing babies. Nobody. Not even Mr. Blackface.

Sometimes it's so addled that I'll leave someone else to unpack, for example, what the FUCK he was on about with the giving illegal aliens in prison forced "trangender surgery". Personally I'm assuming he just used the random word generator in his head to say something that sounded scary to him.

There is NO credible evidence that anyone, much less Haitian immigrants, is eating pets in Springfield, Ohio. Both government officials and the police say there's nothing to it. Springfield has had a huge influx of Haitian immigrants, and this is causing infrastructure strain and racial tensions. But again, people who would rather believe that a) legal immigrants are okay with *stealing your pets and eating them* and b) the entire police and gov't infrastructure of a town and the surrounding county want to cover this up, are not worth our energy. It's the people who don't know the truth and are worried that we want to reach.

And my guy, my man, Cheeto Benito, that is not how tariffs work. Tariffs are not magical free money that other countries just HAVE to give you. They're...they're not that at all. Look, I'm lazy so I'm just gonna quote CNN:

Here’s how tariffs work: When the US puts a tariff on an imported good, the cost of the tariff usually comes directly out of the bank account of an American buyer. “It’s fair to call a tariff a tax because that’s exactly what it is,” said Erica York, a senior economist at the right-leaning Tax Foundation. “There’s no way around it. It is a tax on people who buy things from foreign businesses,” she added. Trump has said that if elected, he would impose tariffs of up to 20% on every foreign import coming into the US, as well as another tariff upward of 60% on all Chinese imports. He also said he would impose a “100% tariff” on countries that shift away from using the US dollar. These duties would add to the tariffs he put on foreign steel and aluminum, washing machines, and many Chinese-made goods including baseball hats, luggage, bicycles, TVs and sneakers. President Joe Biden has left many of the Trump-era tariffs in place. It’s possible that a foreign company chooses to pay the tariff or to lower its prices to stay competitive with US-made goods that aren’t impacted by the duty. But study after study, including one from the federal government’s bipartisan US International Trade Commission, have found that Americans have borne almost the entire cost of Trump’s tariffs on Chinese products. To date, Americans have paid more than $242 billion to the US Treasury for tariffs that Trump imposed on imported solar panels, steel and aluminum, and Chinese-made goods, according to US Customs and Border Protection. [link]

Also though you should watch the debate because Harris was an absolute savage and it was genuinely HUGELY entertaining to watch her mercilessly bait Trump in every answer she gave, and watch him take the bait every. fucking. time.

[newtonsheffield]

No but I can already imagine how over the top Anthony would go for all of Neddy’s milestones he’s finally present for, since he’s missed so many. Like Neddy’s starting kindergarten soon and Kate lets him come with to shop for school supplies and he goes absolutely nuts, he’s ready to buy Neddy one set of light up shoes for every day of the week, any back pack with the characters whose names he knows and a 257 set of crayons when all he knows so far are his primary colours

Oh the first time Kate invites Anthony to go shopping with her and Neddy for anything? Neddy needs new clothes and Kate figures they can all get lunch afterwards. Plus, Anthony’s been begging her to let him help out with some of Neddy’s expenses. And she can’t deny that it feels pretty nice to walk around the shopping centre with Neddy on Anthony’s shoulders and his hand in hers. It feels very domestic, considering a year ago she technically didn’t even know the real first name of Neddy’s Dad. It very quickly becomes apparent though that Anthony is a great Dad. He’s so sweet and kind and patient with Neddy, but it’s pretty obvious that saying No is not going to be in his wheelhouse.

They’ve barely been in the store 15 minutes before Anthony has three pairs of shoes tucked under his arm for Neddy.

Kate cleared her throat, “Neddy, sweetheart we said one pair of shoes, remember?”

“But I like all of them.”

Kate sighed, “But you have other shoes, baby.”

“But… I like the green ones and the dinosaur ones.”

“I know, they’re both really nice but only one, okay?”

Neddy sighed, his bottom lip pouting, “Okay.”

The same thing happens when they look at tiny little jeans for him, Kate scoffing when she looks at the price but Anthony shrugs. “Eh, they’ll last him ages.”

“He’ll grow out of them before then.”

“We’ll see.”

Kate gave up as Anthony tucked the jeans under his arm as well, the pile growing and growing as Neddy piled on shirts and sweaters with characters he recognised. And finally There they are at the counter when Anthony wheeled a tiny bicycle up the the counter with the help of a staff member.

“Ant, what the hell?”

Anthony blinked at her, “You said I could teach him.”

“I didn’t mean we had to get a bike this weekend.”

“Well he liked this one. They might not have it later.” Anthony nudged Neddy who grinned up at her.

“Please Amma?”

Kate rolled her eyes, kissing the top of his head as she scooped him up “Tell Daddy’s he’s too soft.”

Anthony shrugged, kissing Neddy’s forehead quickly and then Kate before he stepped forward to pay. “He’s my boy.”

“You know I could pay for this right? I’m a pretty successful lawyer.”

Anthony rolled his eyes this time, “Yeah sure. Just let me pay for my son’s things please. You can buy me lunch.”

“We’re going to a burger place.”

“Looking forward to my fries!”

[sunflowerharrington]

@steddiebang2024 project reveal!! This is not a drill!

I’m so so excited for this year’s Steddie Bang! I’ll be collabing with the amazing @mvnsvn6 for this project! Forget everything you know about Stranger Things and Saltburn and dive into this adventure with us. You can find the summary and a little excerpt will be under the cut.

Looking forward to posting this Fall :)

Summary:

Eddie Munson knows he won’t make any friends at Hawkins University. He knows it. He knows it… Until he crosses paths with Steve Harrington; a hunk who’s got it all: the looks, the ladies, the money, and a mansion way too big for an eccentric family of five and a butler. He’s got a mansion.

He’s got a mansion.

or, Eddie Munson is twenty years old and enrols at Hawkins University. He falls in love with a guy from university, falls out of love with the same guy, grows to resent him — even though some feelings still lie at the bottom of his heart — and the aftermath of it all.

Excerpt:

The sun shines bright, the grass is greener than ever and the skies are pure, perfect blue, with no clouds in sight. Shadows follow Eddie as he cycles along the road by the crystal-clear river, and he breathes in the fresh air. Today’s going to be a good day.

A buzzing atmosphere flutters around him like butterflies, but it’s pretty bittersweet. Why? Because some god-awful racket is disrupting the peace. It’s Steve, sitting on the verge up ahead, cursing under his breath as he kicks his bicycle. What ever could be the matter? Did he wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?

Eddie smirks as he passes, but stopping to help might get him on a page in Steve’s good book. He breaks to a halt in front of Steve.

“Hey, what happened?” Eddie asks, as if he doesn’t already know the answer. It’s a flat tire and the chain is looser than it should be. Steve has the bike upside down, trying to fix it by staring at it, hoping it’ll do something. Spoiler alert: it won’t.

“I’ve got a flat tire.” Bingo. “Chain’s loose too.” Double bingo.

“That’s bad luck,” Eddie says, and for once, something truthful comes out of his mouth— Eddie stops. For once, uh… he says something useful? Maybe? Eddie rolls his eyes. He has to stop changing his story! He was doing so well.

“I’ve just been trying to fix it,” Steve says, looking down at his feet. “Of course it’s when I’m already ten minutes late for my tutorial.”

Ooh, a tutorial. Eddie rolls his eyes. So posh. Jesus H Christ.

“Where is it?” Eddie asks.

“Just off Cherry Lane.”

“Oh shit.” That is pretty far away. Poor boy’s gonna have to walk all the way there on his own like half the people in college, probably. Eddie scoffs, it’s nothing. A walk is nothing. A run? That’s hard sometimes. Walking’s easy, and a good time to have a cigarette. And it’s less dangerous, and a lot easier, to smoke while walking than riding a bike. The scar on Eddie’s right arm is proof of that.

“Yeah…” Steve trails off, pouting like a kicked puppy. Jesus Christ, and Eddie thought he himself was dramatic.

They both look at the bike at the same time. It’s pretty much a goner. There’s no way to fix it in time for Steve to get to his stupid fucking tutorial before it’s over.

“I skipped last week to go- don’t tell anyone- but I went on a date with uh… Can't remember her name, sorry. Heather, or something. And I’m already in trouble with my parents for scratching some of the paint off it, so…”

Oh, poor, poor baby. Eddie internally rolls his eyes. Is Steve seriously trying to make Eddie feel sorry for him? Eddie’s pretty sure Steve’s parents could buy him a thousand bikes if he asked. But… He wants to get on Steve’s good side. He’s definitely popular around campus, and having that under his own belt could be good. Might get Eddie laid by a pretty girl if he’s lucky.

“Look, I’m not really going anywhere,” Eddie says, smiling at him. “Just taking these back to the library. So you can take my bike if you want?”

“No, no, no, I couldn’t. I mean, it looks like rain, I wouldn’t want to—”

Eddie can’t help but melt under Steve’s gaze, and that smile. Jesus H. Christ. “I’m not really going anywhere anyway. I can just get it back from you later. You’re in my college, so…” Perfect. He’ll get to see Steve again. One point for Munson.

“Am I?” Steve asks, keeping his gaze trained on Eddie.

Eddie sighs, his eyes downcast. “Yep.”

It’s a big college, sure, but how has Steve not seen him around before? Has he forgotten about their exchanged looks and smiles around campus whenever they cross paths? Does anything even really matter to him?

“That’s so kind, are you serious?” He asks, getting up from his spot by the tree. “That’s so kind, man. Are you sure? I mean, it’s a long walk back to college and I don’t want you to feel like you have to wheel it back.”

“You want me to take yours back?” Eddie asks. Oh what, so this douche thinks he can tell Eddie what to do now? He doesn’t even know Eddie’s name and he’s already giving him orders. Maybe it’s because Eddie looks easy to manipulate into doing whatever he wants.

But that’s what he wants Steve to think.

Eddie likes to think of himself as a wolf in sheep’s clothing. That’s the strategy in life that gets people everything they want. And what is it Eddie wants? More. More. And even more. He’s willing to do whatever it takes to get that, and so far it’s taken him right to Steve Harrington by a tree just outside of Hawkins University.

It didn’t exactly take much for him to get accepted; a carefully curated persona full of smiles and the story about his upbringing. That, and all the little extras: no criminal record—that the police know of, he knows how to make people take the fall for him. Bless Gareth, Frankie and Jeff—no drugs in his system, and a willingness to go down on anyone in any room to keep up his good GPA score.

Bedroom eyes go a long way, and the lack of a gag reflex goes even further. He’s willing to become the local slut to get what he wants. He doesn’t even have to try hard. Eddie is a slut and he’s damn proud of it.

“Oh, no, no, no!” Steve starts. “I’m sorry, I just thought that since I have your bike, you’ll take mine?” Eddie’s works, Steve’s does not, it makes little to no sense.

“I mean, I can wheel it back to college for you, it’s not that far away,” Eddie proposes… to get on Steve’s good side, of course.

“Thank you.” Steve takes Eddie’s bike from him.

He must be so used to people bending over backwards to help him.

Steve grins. “Oh, thank you. Thank you… I’m sorry, I don’t know your name. I’m Steve,” he says with an apologetic look. Oh, but is it fake? Who knows? Everything is fake around here. And posh, rich boys like Steven Otis Harrington are no exception.

I already know your name. And you have no idea just how much I already know about you, Steve.

“Eddie. It’s Eddie.”

“Eddie. Eddie, I love you.” Eddie’s eyes widen as Steve grabs him by the shoulders, planting a kiss on the top of his helmet. Even though he doesn’t want to play it safe in college, he also doesn’t want to get a concussion. So the stupid helmet will have to stay on. “I love you, I love you. Seriously.”

“Like I said, no big deal.”

“Thank you so much, Eddie,” he says with a wide smile, hopping onto the bike, swinging his leg over to put one of his feet on the pedals. “So kind. You’re a fucking lifesaver, really. Thank you.”

Eddie scoffs. Yeah, sure. He’s so thankful for it. Sure. Eddie rolls his eyes when Steve isn’t looking, too focused on pedalling to look back.

“I’ll just leave yours in the bike shed, yeah?”

“Yeah, fine.” If Steve even so much as scratches the bike, it’s over for him. No more talking, no more looking… Eddie will just have to find a new friend, or else pretend to forgive him to stay on his good side.

“Thanks, Eddie!” He calls over his shoulder. “I love you!”

Wow. Does love even have any meaning to him? Does Steve even know what love is? Surely not if he’s telling a fucking stranger that he loves them.

Eddie watches Steve disappear around the corner, leaving him standing alone, holding the broken bike. This is so stupid. He’s gonna look like a fucking idiot walking a bike all the way back to campus. But who cares? It’s not like anyone’s even going to pay attention to some small-town boy anyway…

But Steve might.

He just might. Because that’s all Eddie’s ever wanted.

Attention.

And he’ll do pretty much anything to get it.

[nadiajustbe]

Some 80s Hatter Sistes moments/headcanons from my fanfiction WIP

"When Martha was even younger (although in Sophie's eyes that meant being the most of a baby), her favourite thing to do was to sit right next to Lettie, in front of the window, asking Sophie to hold her on her lap and list the things she had seen that day. These undoubtedly long lists included dozens of crows, a hundred friendly smiles, and at least one cake from Caesari, a bakery chain known throughout the city and several coastal villages. Her voice sounded so iridescent and inspiring that Sophie thought that if she looked out the window, she would see hundreds of bars of pure gold, and not a bakery. Lettie, on the other hand, was always gazing out at the river at the edge of the pier — wiser in those years, she always asked her older sister when she would be able to see the sea up close. She knew that it was mostly Sophie's dream, and that made her sigh even heavier."

"In order to stay together and look after their father's condition, each of the three sisters went to the same small school on the outskirts of the city, where an old, tired middle school teacher kept repeatedly highlighting Martha's talent for the sciences. At that time, Lettie would indiscriminately raise her hand to answer every question, while Sophie would sit quietly at the back of the class, deep in a book or darning another handkerchief."

"Martha had brought at least a dozen dresses, recipes and books with every possible inscription, struggling to fit them into the two small suitcases she had chose for herself. Sophie tried to help her by pushing down on the lid of the suitcase from above, causing it to slam shut with a dull protesting sound. Lettie sorted out her own belongings quite quickly, and it seemed that all her clothes could easily fit into one small, narrow square. Sophie walked over to her thoughtfully, looking around her, as she had brought only a single sewing book and two grey dresses."

"...Lettie and Martha instantly started a battle over who would sit by the window, nudging and jostling like kids. This problem was quickly resolved by Sophie's hand, which took the seat herself, instantly silencing the sisters."

"Just around the corner were bicycle racks, which Sophie had never been able to ride anyway: Martha had been trying to persuade Fanny to buy her a bike or skates from the colourful brochures for a long time, but their mother had always mumbled something about how they didn't sell them in their town."

[hi-avathisside]

LOVE

Sometimes, I just miss being loved, wc: 0.6k

Sometimes, lying down at night, all I miss is, not a romantic interest or the giddy feeling of knowing you absolutely love that person, and their smile fills your chest with warmth, like sunflowers in the field, all blossoming, not the scorching-burn-your-skin kind of sun, but oh-so warm like hugging a blanket, like the morning sun, like the hugging your mother after 15 years, like the sun on a windy day. When you know that the person you love and you absolutely love every milli-second of their existence. Sure, Romantic love is one of the most beautiful feeling in the world, but sometimes, i just miss someone having my back. Someone who's there for me through thick and thin, it could be anyone, a friend, a colleague, a best friend, a partner ; sometimes, I just miss human interactions. Sometimes I just miss being human.

Laughing and chatting with friends, making jokes which only we get the context of, hugging a friend who's crying and telling them, it'd be alright and 5 years down the line, laughing about the same problem. Two human beings just being themselves, helping each other get through this life, a partner bringing the other one a coffee because they know they have their final residency exam tomorrow and will study the whole night. A husband and wife dancing around in the kitchen, full of giggles and laughter, making cookies for the three of them. A guy going out with a girl, holding her hand, for the first time, finding himself find someone's laughter the most beautiful one in the world, even when the movie that is playing is what he has been wanting to watch for the last 3 weeks. A best-friend in the hospital, the guy who was the most 'rough and tough' guy on the team is there in the waiting hall, crying his eyes out, because he cared for him. A mother feeding her child, taking care of her child even when she's battling depression, because she loves the child. A boss staying with the team the whole night in the office, ordering pizza for all of them, because he knows his team would be working to finish this audit on time. A father refusing to buy anything for himself, using the same shirt for the past 12 years, working on holidays, to earn extra money for his children. The grandparents, making sure to buy the same strawberry-flavoured candy every time their grandchildren visit them, because they know they love them. A father making sure there are enough medicines for a bad stomach, when his son from the US visits him, because the food here, doesn't do him well. A friend making sure that you've reached home safely after the party. A husband, staying by his wife's side when she's delivering their baby, even when, especially, when the wife squeezes his hand hard enough to crack some bones, and when the contractions ae dire, that she's screaming at everyone who's in front of her, even then, he's there gently stroking her forehead to calm her down, to tell her that they will be alright. A sister letting you borrow her colour pencils, because you have an exam tomorrow morning and you need them, even though she 'hates' you and definitely doesn't like the way you use up all the yellow colour. A father teaching their daughter how to ride a bicycle. An old man riding a scooter by himself, in the wind, to revive his memories. A young man buying two- identical bouquets of flowers; one for his wife on the valentine's day and one for his 2-year old daughter. A man paying for the lady in-front of the line because she's out of money for another packet of baby-formula. An old friend calling you out of the blue, after 8 years, just to say the nickname you hated the most, the moment you pick up the phone. An old lovely couple, revisiting a diner they used to go, 65 years ago, on the same day.

Sometimes, I just miss being around people and feeling loved.

Even if we can't find heaven I'll walk through hell with you Love, you're not alone 'Cause I'm gonna stand by you Yeah, you're all I never knew I needed And the heart, sometimes it's unclear why it's beating And love, if your wings are broken We can brave through those emotions too 'Cause I'm gonna stand by you 'Cause I'm gonna stand by you

[angelicyouth]

Lavender ; Chapter 1

⇢ pairing: stan marsh x broflovski!reader

⇢ genre: summer romance ; soulmates AU

⇢ synopsis: ❝You looked forward to attending the sleepy, beachside town's famous carnival every summer. But not because you got to see your cousins or your friends after a year of not seeing them—it was to see the boy behind the ring toss booth.❞

⇢ [series masterlist] ; [next]

// THIRTEEN:

A large grin stretches across the expanse of your excited face, the sheer size of it hurting your bunched up cheeks as you burst out through the wood of the front door. There’s a giddy hop to your step as you skip down the stairs leading to the house before you jump down onto the gritty asphalt of the sidewalk.

Your cousin belatedly rushes out after you and yells at you to stay safe, his bright red curls beautifully gleaming from underneath the sunlight shining down on the sleepy beachside town. Yelling out your affirmations to his overprotective worry, your hands work to haul up your bicycle from its laid position on the still damp grass from where you carelessly threw it the night before.

The early morning brought upon a dreamlike haze as the sky was prettily painted in an arrangement of orange hues of today’s beautiful sunrise, the slight taste of seawater tickling the edges of your lips as the air gently breezes through your soft locks of hair. Pushing off, you begin to ride down the quiet streets as your legs hurriedly pump up and down on your pedals to quickly bring you to your destination.

With summer coming, your parents decided to send you off to stay with your cousins Ike and Kyle for a week. But upon your first day here, you met Clyde near the town’s local liquor store one late night when you went out for a quick trip to get some ice cream to soothe your heated red cheeks.

With a popsicle in your month, you delightedly hummed around the well-welcomed coolness of your sweet treat until you heard the muffled sounds of what sounded like someone yelling. Curiously following the noise, you were greeted with the sight of a few older kids pushing around a sniveling, snot-nosed brunette before you impulsively threw down your wooden stick onto the floor and rushed to defend him.

Ever since that fateful evening which landed you with bandaids and a handful of bruises (let’s not forget about the earful you got from Kyle for being a reckless idiot), you’ve been hanging out with the brunette and his group of friends as opposed to your cool older cousin or his endearing baby brother. This mostly entailed riding your bikes to the corner store to buy snacks (the boys always dumped them into the woven basket of your bike) or running around the heated sand of the beach when everyone decided to go out for some fun. 

When the heat became unbearable, the time spent with one another involved playing video games or watching movies enclosed in the coolness of someone’s air conditioned house. If the whimsical melody of the ice cream truck sounded out, you would all hop onto your bicycles to hurriedly follow the vehicle down the streets until you were granted reprieve from the heat with blessed cold goodness (Tolkien always treated everyone which made it that much better).

Tonight though, out of all the days you’ve been here, was special. While it brought upon endless tears streaming down Clyde’s face at it being your last day, it also meant that you got to finally attend the town’s famous summer carnival.

You’ve seen colorful posters of it plastered all over stores during the duration of your stay, the pretty artwork and promise of fun always catching your awed eyes. And while it lasted for three days, you could only attend one of them. But it honestly wasn't so bad as this was the first time that your visit to your cousins coincided with the date of the event. 

Now, it seemed like a momentous occasion—the last big bang before you got picked up and had to head back home in the bustling city away from your new friends. Before the leaves turned brown and the chills of fall began to creep through every breeze, the monotonous daily life of middle school soon to resume.

After picking up Clyde and forcing the brunette to wipe his dirty hands onto his basketball shorts before getting onto his bike (he was busy digging up worms in his front yard when you arrived), the two of you were off to pick up the rest of your friends. You ecstatically smile as you race behind the loudly cheering teen, his brightly colored bike a flash of pastel pink (it was a hand-me-down from his older sister and still had their training wheels screwed on them) to those watching as you both let out twin whoops of laughter into the warm summer air.

Gathering everyone else and hanging out until the afternoon, you were soon approaching the flashily decorated boardwalk and could only vibrate in place at the anticipation of how much more beautiful the site will look when it’s brightly lit up at night. A cacophony of deliciously tempting smells hits your nose as you impatiently wait for Tolkien to make sure that all of your bikes are properly locked up—the heavily greasy foods that definitely should not be deep fried and the sickly sweet smell of churros quickly invading your senses. 

Clyde messily tangles your fingers together as you bound up to Tweek, interlocking your arm with his trembling one as your scuffed up sneakers happily pad down the wooden structure of the boardwalk. Everyone eagerly crowds around the ticket booth as Craig slides your combined money though the little semi-circle of the transparent enclosure, the bored teen running the stand curling her downturned lips even more at the sight of your obnoxiously rowdy group.

All of you were able to gather money from your generous parents and from your measly allowances (in your case, from your Aunt Sheila and your cool older cousin Kyle when you told him of your plans) which came to a combined total of 50 dollars. Tolkien’s hand quickly follows after Craig’s as he contributes two crisp hundred dollar bills, the rest of you barely containing your smiles as your group evenly divides the tickets amongst every one of you. 

The day continues with your eager friends taking you on every single ride and playing all of the games, only taking breaks in between the fun to drown yourselves in unhealthy amounts of junk food before repeating the cycle all over again (it gets broken once when Tolkien has to stop to throw up, the fucking pussy). But it isn’t until Clyde is pouting from horribly losing against the mechanical arm wrestling machine (“It’s because my arm still hurts from when we played football yesterday!”) when you notice an indiscreet booth tucked at the far back of the boardwalk, the ember hues of the warm sunlight not quite touching the stand all the way.

“… Who’s that?” You curiously ask around a mouthful of fries, Craig’s head angling slightly away from where his chin pointily rests on your shoulder as he chews and tries to look at what caught your eye.

Although overcast in almost entirely by shadows, there was a slight fluorescent glow from what you guessed to be a phone screen from within the stand. You hadn’t noticed the boy sitting behind the rows of colorful stuffed animals hanging overhead at first, his body terribly slouched and hidden from sight.

“Forget it, N/N. He’s a fucking asshole.” The ravenette rolls his eyes as he decisively says, his arms curling around your waist to turn you body away from your staring.

In his forced adjustment, your distracted hand completely misses Tweek’s mouth from where you were in the middle of hand feeding him a bite of your shared snack. A frantic ack! gets yelped out from the surprised blonde when remnants of salty crystals hit his cheek, Clyde roughly pushing Craig away as he throws his arms around your shoulders to hug you from behind. 

“Why? Is there a prize that you want, N/N? I can get it for you!” The brunette asks in puppy-like excitement, prompting a soft giggle to escape from your upturned lips as you bring a hand out to playfully pinch him on his side from where he was crowding your space and his chin was painfully digging into the top of your head every time he spoke. 

“Don’t—we’d be stuck here all fucking night watching Clyde attempt to try to win you something. It’d be cheaper for Tolkien to just buy you what you want than to have that dumbass waste all of our tickets and time.” Craig grits out through clenched teeth, harshly shoving at the brunette to reclaim his previous spot next to you before opening his mouth so that you can feed him a fry.

“His name’s Stan.” Tolkien helpfully supplies before his lips wrap around the straw poking through the large sized slurpee that the rest of you are sharing, his mouth ridiculously tinted blue from the flavor you all decided to get (Tweek has his own straw stuck into the brightly colored slush completely separate from the other one that the rest of you share, complaining about how Clyde always has leftover food around his mouth from his disgustingly messy eating habits).

“… Stan?” There was something about the way that the syllables of his name felt in your mouth. Not quite like the familiar taste of the ocean in the air that you’ve become accustomed to from your stay here, but more similar to the salt-water taffy that the rest of you chewed on after a game of basketball—sweet and sticking to the roof of your mouth. 

“That’s what he just said, dumbass.”

“I’m…” You cast a quick glance at your quickly dwindling amount of tickets as you ignore Craig’s snark, the paper crumpled in your hands and slightly darker in some areas from the humidity of the air as you count. Low, but…

There were enough.

“I’m going to try to play.” Looking towards your friends for validation of your impromptu decision, Craig just scoffs at your stubborn nature as he takes the container of forgotten fries from your other hand.

“I fucking guess… Only if you want to deal with his shit, though. He’s an older boy: a high schooler. But if he does something then you better let me know—I’ll fuck him up for you.” The ravenette is clearly unhappy with your decision despite his vulgar warning and you make a mental note to find out more of the apparent beef your friend has with your new object of interest later.

“He’s not that bad, Craig. We were on the elementary school football team and little league baseball team with him when we were younger.” Clyde admonishes the pessimist of the group, your small hand reaching out to wipe off a stray piece of parsley from the side of his lips before the guys noticed and ruthlessly made fun of the brunette.

He continues to speak, completely oblivious of the mess he’s currently making around the immediate vicinity of his mouth. “All the girls in town can’t keep their panties on around him because he’s quarterback and he’s the lead singer of a band and everything. But recently… He’s started to become more closed-off, I guess. Keeps more to himself to everyone else except for his friends.”

“Hmm,” You nod in response to the information, your eyes every so often sending lingering glances in burning curiosity at the aforementioned teen.

“We’ll go on that roller coaster then, okay? If we’re not out by the time you’re done then just wait for us. And don’t talk to any strangers or wander off too far! I’m fucking serious, N/N! Ngh!” Tweek yells after you before the boys impatiently pull him into the quickly growing line.

You nod in confirmation with a cheery wave before turning around and beginning to confidently march up to the stand. But when the boy (Stan, you remind yourself) looks up at the sound of you steadily approaching, you suddenly begin to falter in your steps.

From a distance, you weren’t able to make out how Stan looked. 

But now, you could clearly see the soft slope of his nose and the pretty shade of pink decorating his soft lips. The way the bleached yet still soft locks of his tousled hair rested perfectly against his forehead, the sliver of the only sunlight shining upon the booth accentuating his attractively sharp features.

It was almost hypnotic as your eyes slowly trailed down the sight of his defined veins running along the length of his arms towards his longer, ring-adorned fingers as they tapped against the glass screen of his phone. You were correct on noting his bad posture but it became more apparent to you how lithe yet muscular his body was.

But, that wasn’t what was special.

What was special was his eyes—the crystal blue of deep cerulean that looked reminiscent of the ocean you and your friends often swam in. It was like the waves when the sun reflected off of the beautiful water, every hue of his iris distinct despite the darkness surrounding the booth.

There wasn’t even an expression on his handsome face when he looked up but after you opened your mouth and no words came out of your slightly parted lips, he looked just a fraction annoyed. “Yes?”

Your eyes unconsciously follow the little flash of pink that was his tongue when his mouth sounds out the ‘s’ of his one-worded reply, a vivid shade of vermillion quickly painting your cheeks when you take note of your actions. “I uh—I want to play.”

“No shit. It’s ring toss, you know how to?” There’s a lazy drawl to his words, a stark contrast to your hands as they clumsily fumble to pull out your crumpled tickets from the pocket of your shorts.

“Duh. I mean, of course I do.” You quickly correct yourself when a voice in your head that sounded eerily similar to Kyle admonishes you for your poor manners despite the older teen being a complete asshole.

“If you get more than seven over the bottles then you get a prize.” Is all he says before his eyes resume their previous task at starting down at his phone.

It was embarrassing to say but you couldn’t help but to stare in awe at how effortless the older teen in front of you was acting, his words exiting his mouth in a way that made you feel like they were the last things he wanted to say but had to because it was his job. In your middle school mind, you couldn’t help but to think he was cool—even cooler than Kyle.  

But then… That gets ruined when your mouth curves into a pout, your body heaving a huff when you notice that he isn't paying any attention to you anymore. You look away as your hand curls around the faded color of orange tinting the worn ring, your fingers releasing its hold only for it to just bounce off of the bottles and fall to the ground.

Stan’s eyes flicker towards you before they go back to his mobile device, the quick dismissal causing your eyebrows to furrow and your jaw to clench shut in further concentration. You cast him a quick glare before throwing another different colored ring and much like the first, the purple item meets its similar fate to the floor.

The rest of the rings end up pretty much the same but unlike before, the older teen never pays you any more attention after the initial glance of your first throw. When all of your rings are gone, your body agitatedly swivels to properly face the bleached blonde with your tiny fists tightly clenched by your sides.

“I played baseball in little league, I’ve even been on the basketball team—I’ve been playing those sports all summer with my friends.” This was all your pursed lips could frustratedly grit out.

“Good for you, kid.” Is all you get back in return, his monotonous tone pushing you even further to the edge when he still doesn’t spare you a glance. 

“No, it isn’t! You don’t get it! What I’m asking is if this is fucking rigged or some shit!” You can’t help but to childishly stomp out a foot to further emphasize your quickly mounting frustration, a pout decorating your face when you catch yourself committing the same action that your little cousin does when Kyle tells him it’s bedtime.

He finally looks at you but it doesn’t help to quell your rage, a flat expression on his face as he quirks an unamused eyebrow. His face leans closer to yours and his voice is low, “Don’t you know? Every game in this fucking place is rigged.”

Your anger spikes even higher—from the game and at Stan, his stupid fucking face looking even more worn out than a prostitute after a night out. You internally scoff at the notion that apparently all the girls in town wanted to fuck this asshole, your arms defiantly crossing over your torso for not finding the appeal.

Indignantly stomping away, you feel slight satisfaction when your thundering steps make loud thumps! against the wooden boardwalk as you begin to walk away. I’ll tell Craig that he was a dickhead, you smirk as you pettily think to yourself and scheme.

“Hey!”

Stopping in surprise, your body turns to locate the source of the sudden noise to see that Stan was standing from his previously seated position on his stool. He must have been the one to call out, you can’t help the rapidly fluttering feeling you begin to experience in the inner depths of your chest.

It was an ounce of effort from the other, finally.

And just like that, you went back to swooning in child-like admiration at how cool Stan was, your teeth harshly biting down onto your bottom lip to fight your growing smile. When you skip back to the older teen, the bleached blonde is busy rummaging through the piles of stuffed toys within his booth before he hands you a cute butterfly.

“I saw you looking at it—the game’s rigged so just take it. I promise I won’t tell.” You blink in surprise before your fingers wrap around the soft tufts of material decorating the plush, your eyes slightly wide at the sudden turn of events.

“Thank you.” Your voice is suddenly soft from the warm feeling threatening to overtake not only your heart but your whole entire body, your hands gently bringing your new friend towards your chest to hug as you feel a tingly sensation overtake your elated form from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

“Sure, kid.” Stan distractedly says as his eyes resume their seemingly permanent position at the front of his phone, your lips slightly parting to indignantly tell him that you’re not a kid and that you’re probably not that much younger than he is.

But then you think about how he has most likely kissed a girl or boy already and that he has probably drunk alcohol at a high school party or smoked. All the while, your friends and you buried an obliviously sleeping Clyde with sand and sculpted it into the shape of a phallic dick just yesterday. 

And with that thought deterring you from speaking up, you turn in the other direction and run to find your friends.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

// FOURTEEN:

Keeping you going through your first year of high school was the thought of finally reuniting with your new friends residing in the beachside town that you often daydreamed about. You could almost taste the iridescent sea that was waiting to crash down on your taller body if you closed your eyes, for the fragrant smell of lavender to softly waft into your nostrils from the secluded part of the beach that has been appointed as your group's top-secret spot.

When your parents finally pulled up to the Broflovski household, you all but shoved your father aside as you thundered past the waiting arms of your Aunt Sheila to excitedly greet your baby cousin Ike. Your cheeks burrow closer to his smaller shoulder as he delightedly giggles, your hand reaching up to gently ruffle the soft locks adorning the crown of his head.

You can’t help it when your arms greedily wrap around his waist, as if someone could just yank you away from the place you’ve been yearning for all year. Not until you notice something different.

“Where’s Kyle?” You ask over the tufts of your cousin’s raven-colored hair, the younger boy suddenly indignant at the fact that you weren’t giving him your undivided attention any longer.

“Oh, he’s on a road trip with his friends. He doesn’t really like to be here at this time of the year.” Your aunt’s voice is gentle, a half-smile adorning the soft features of her face before she reassures your parents. “But don’t worry, Y/N will be fine with all the friends she’s made here.”

Heaving a fond yet tired sigh, (your excited energy caused you to relentlessly fiddle with the dial of the car’s radio and endlessly drum your hands against the dashboard), your mom says her goodbyes. Thankfully, you don’t notice when she mutters a quick good luck to your Uncle Gerald as she finally departs with your dad. 

And although the drive was excruciatingly long, you waste no time in perching yourself back on your bike to follow the familiar path that leads you to your friends.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“Why aren’t you talking as much!” You loudly whine, your head resting along Craig’s firm stomach as your eyes stay trained on the handheld gaming device in your hands.

“Yeah, Craig. Why aren’t you being an asshole like you usually are, shitmouth?” Clyde slyly teases from his resting position beside yours on the hardwood of the floor, his voice almost robotic sounding from speaking directly into the blaring fan of the room.

“Shut the fuck up, dickwad! And quit hogging up all the cold fucking air—those tacos you love to eat so much made you take up even more useless space on this world compared to last year! I thought you were Cartman’s fucking fatass when I saw you from behind on the first day of school!” The ravenette angrily yells out, his leg stretching out to harshly kick the brunette on his ribs, hard.

The action causes you to abruptly jostle but you don’t pay it any mind as Clyde screeches back, “Fuck you! I’ve just gotten big-boned over the past few months, asshole! You fucking know that! It’s called puberty—I’m just growing into my body still!”

“Hate to break it to you, Clyde, but if someone calls you that then that just usually means you’re a fatass. It’s only said in a nicer way so that pussies like you don’t start to cry.” Tolkien lazily speaks up from the couch, his hands preoccupied with fanning his face with a comic book and his eyes still closed from the nap he got rudely interrupted from.

Tweek snickers as the brunette theatrically wails out loud in protest, his hands grabbing onto your body to use you as a human shield from the relentless assault of Craig’s legs. Your eyes don’t leave the glass screen displaying the boss battle that you’re currently engaged in despite being roughly handled, Clyde screeching right beside your ear.

“Well if I’m a supposed fatass with a taco addiction then Craig is a stupid space nerd with a fucked up set of teeth that only his mother could love! No wonder your family had to take out a loan to correct that fucking shitshow!”

“Fuck you! They didn’t do shit like that and your family’s even poorer than mine—your dad has to make enough money by himself to support your path to future obesity! Should I get used to calling you Cartman the Second before it happens or should I wait for the inevitable?”

“Craig!” Tolkien barks out in admonishment because everyone knows that you don’t mention the topic of Clyde’s late mom to the sensitive brunette (along with triggering him with the word toilet).

This gets your attention, your fingers quick to pause your game as you crawl towards the ravenette furiously backing up and covering his mouth to pry his larger hands away. You can’t help but to coo when you see the blinding glint reflecting off of the metal of his braces, the rest of your friends mockingly taking up high-pitched baby voices as they echo out your sentiments albeit with different intentions.

And even though Craig has braces now and the boys have grown much taller in comparison to last year, everything else was the same again—like the smooth lilt to Tolkien’s baritone voice as he calls out everyones bullshit or the way Tweek shrilly goes off on his paranoid tangents when provoked.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

A mixture of both excited and fearful screams of a multitude of people fill the air as metal contraptions promising thrill quickly whizzes overhead your excited body, your arms tightly locking around Tweek’s neck from the piggyback ride that he was giving you before a sudden ack! forces you to loosen your hold lest you accidentally asphyxiate your friend. Much like last year, Clyde intertwines his fingers with yours as the both of you enthusiastically lead the rest of the boys into the fray of fun awaiting you all.

It isn’t until the second day of the carnival (you were sure to carefully plan your visit this summer so that you could attend all three days this year) that you remembered. Not because you had any reason to but because when Craig had to run off to the bathroom before he pissed his pants (or shit, you didn’t ask), you saw the secluded booth carefully hidden in the shadows casted over the end of the boardwalk. 

“I’m going to try the game again!” You blurt out, the boys stopping midconversation as they send you surprised looks from the abruptness of your exclamation.

The ends of Craig’s lips begin to involuntarily lower when he realizes what you’re talking about before Tolkien decides to speak up first, his eyebrows slightly raised in shock as he swallows his bite of funnel cake. “The ring toss game..?”

You rapidly nod your head before your eyes land on Clyde when he quickly lifts his face away from the paper plate of food, his mouth messily covered underneath a thin layer of powdered sugar and a smudge of chocolate syrup. “Wh—I didn’t know they still had that.”

“Yeah, well they do even though no one else seems to stop by and I’m going. Bye!” You roll your eyes before you hastily walk away from the group, not allowing them to get a word in and try to sway you to not play like they did last year (Well, Craig did. And he wouldn’t speak to you when you joined the group again before you promised to split a stick of cotton candy with him using your own money and not Tolkien’s, the fucking jerk).

As you step closer to the booth, you can’t help but to notice that it looks exactly the same way it did last year—as if the teen behind it never moved an inch from his spot during the year that you were away. It’s like a sudden rush of nostalgia overwhelming your body as you feel the familiar thrum igniting underneath your chest and the sticky film of sweat beginning to develop on the palms of your hands.

And it’s not from the heat, but because of him.

“Yes?” The uninterested drawl in his voice is the same as last summer except this time, you didn’t get mesmerized by the depth of his eyes.

“I was here last year.” You say before your head physically recoils into a wince, feeling stupid at the thought that he might have remembered you when he probably sees a ton of people during work when you only stopped by for about ten minutes one night so long ago.

“... I don’t recognize you.” The bleached blonde says after a quick glance at your face and you can’t help but to feel hurt that you weren’t as significant to make a mark on his memory as he was to you.

He seems to take a little pity on you when a stilted moment passes by, a tired sigh deeply heaving out of his parted lips. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” Like a pathetic puppy that was overager to gain affection from its owner, your mood quickly turns around at the attention he gives you as you answer back.

“Hm. Doesn’t ring a bell.” And just like that, your metaphorical tail that was once happily wagging quickly drops down at the cold and ruthlessly blunt tone of his words. 

It’s extremely sad when all you can think of is how he’s as cool as he was last year, your mind bitterly supplying to yourself in displeasure because you weren’t a fucking middle schooler anymore, goddammit.

��What’s your name, then?” You ask even though you already knew the combination of letters belonging to the person in front of you, if only to hear his voice a little longer.

“Stan.” He says and you feel utterly confused at the way it sounds out of his mouth—how it wasn’t as sweet in yours or as scornful in Craig’s, but completely empty in his.

“Okay, Stan. Well. I’m not going to play this stupid game, so.” Despite giving you his name, Stan still doesn’t look away from his phone to pay you any mind.

“Then why are you even here?” He snorts and you angrily puff out your cheeks, entirely unsure as to why you’re still wasting your time and trying to get his attention when he’s still such a dick.

You just forlornly kick at the ground, glaring over your shoulder at the rest of the bustle of the boardwalk behind you before shrugging despite the fact that the teen is unable to see what you’re doing. “I don’t know.”

It was a painfully honest answer to a condescending question, your eyebrows beginning to furrow as you just stood there and watched. Like last year all over again.

Look up.

Hear me.

Fucking care, you frustratedly think to yourself when all that greets you is the teen’s side profile as he looks down at his phone.

“I know it’s fucking rigged.” This finally gets his attention as he looks up at you, causing your cheeks to begin to heat up at the prospect of succeeding.

So you continue, deciding to further bullshit in an effort to keep his hard earned attention. “I can tell that no one will win it just by looking.”

The older teen slips his phone into the denim material of his jean’s pocket before seamlessly heaving his body to hop over the counter acting as a physical barrier between you two, his hands picking up the stack of rings from his new position beside you. His fingers effortlessly throw rings one after the other and despite hearing each object clatter against the glass lip of the bottles, your eyes never look away from his face.

It wasn’t how Clyde looked when he concentrated, the brunette slightly sticking out his tongue from the side of his mouth. Or how Craig did, his jaw tightly clenched shut and the skin in between his eyebrows intensely furrowed. 

No.

The way Stan concentrated was with an expressionless look on his face where only the deep cerulean of his eyes lit up in mirth after every successful throw, a slight curve to his pretty pink lips as he smirked in a smug way. As if he knew he could do it and was confident in his ability to make it. It was like—

“Are you even paying attention?” The bleached blonde mockingly asks, the notion of getting caught staring quickly forcing you to turn your head in time to watch as the last ring landed perfectly on the bottle.

Why do I always end up feeling like a dumbass in his presence?

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

When you get to your cousin’s house later that evening, Ike will find you in the garage at the late hours of the night as you continuously throw a horseshoe towards the set of bowling pins you found in the attic. He’ll wrap his soft wool blanket around his tired shoulders, his head drowsily nodding off until he falls asleep from his seated position behind your form to keep you unconscious company as you try again and again.

But it was all to no avail.

Stan had made it look so fucking easy—the effortless way he simply flicked his wrist to send the rings spinning gracefully into place. You want to sleep but you can’t, not when thinking of his condescending gaze ignited a fire within you every single time you thought of your past interactions with one another.

Not when he barely found you worthy of a glance.

You close your eyes, deeply inhaling and exhaling as you gather your bearings. You’re trying to dispel the thoughts of his cocky smirk and the way he spoke to you as if you weren’t worth even a second of his time.

In, and out. 

Repeat again.

Concentrate.

Your eyes are still closed as you bring the heavy metal of the horseshoe forward, the edge of the object just barely touching the top of your lip. Letting your arm fall before quickly shooting back up, you let go until you hear the tell-tale clatter of an item making contact with another to finally grant yourself your vision back.

Clank!

You can’t help the high pitched squeal that escapes from your excited yet disbelieving form, apologies rushing out of your mouth for disturbing Ike from his sleep when he shifts at the disturbance. With newfound motivation, you practice until your fingers begin to ache and the light of the morning sun streams in through the windows within the garage. 

When you make all of your throws with no horseshoe left to go, you finally go to sleep with a smile on your face.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

You’re excited when your friends and you meet up to hang out as usual until it was time to hit the boardwalk because you were finally going to have the upperhand with the boy working at the ring toss booth. You don’t tell your friends where you’re going when you find an excuse to part with them for a bit (Craig relentlessly teased you when you met up with the group after your interaction with Stan yesterday left you angry).

You hum to yourself as you skip your way to the stand, spotting the bleached blonde sitting as he usually did with a leg tucked up towards his chest. He looks up when he hears the telltale sounds of a patron approaching, his face as expressionless as always and his voice blank.

“You’re from yesterday.” The older teen says, your chest puffing up as you count it as as win that he at least remembers you, even if it was just a day ago that you saw one another.

“Yup! And I’m here to win!” You confidently say, your eyes unwavering as you hold eye contact with Stan’s.

He tiredly heaves out a sigh at your enthusiasm and you just roll your eyes, thinking about how it wasn’t like he got any business besides you anyways. It was probably because he’s such a fucking asshole but the teen had no right to look utterly exhausted when no one ever came.

Holding out a larger hand, you ignore his outstretched limb to pettily throw your tickets out if only to watch him send you a blank look before bending over to painstakingly grab each piece of paper (the grudge was still there and maybe you were a petty bitch—what could you say?). Bringing the ring up just like you practiced all night (without letting it touch your lips because ew and Tweek has taught you better about nasty germs and scary diseases and all that crap), you let your arm drop as you watch the worn out object soar.

You wait with a bated breath as you see it hit the glass bottle a few feet from your anticipating form, the ring twirling around a few times before it finally settles. You withhold the excited squeak threatening to sound out from your throat, letting out a discreet cough to cover up the noise because Stan wouldn’t do something uncool like that.

Throwing one after the other, most made it but some didn’t but that was okay. It was only last night that you decided to hand the bleached blonde’s ass over to him in this one-sided rivalry, so as long as you got seven in to win a prize then you’d be satisfied.

But in a cruel twist of fate, when Stan finally put his phone away to watch you prepare for your last throw, the mounting pressure of having the eyes of the person you wanted to so badly acknowledge you made you miss. Even though he was bored, his eyes settling onto your form felt absolutely electrifying—as if providing you with the feeling that you could do anything you wanted to in the world without a single worry of failure.

Yet, you failed.

Your hands tightly clench by your sides until they become white from the exerted force, a thin film of tears quickly filling your eyes as you harshly dig your teeth into your lower lip to beg your body to hold it in. You tried so hard—you put all this time and energy into this that it not only affected you but poor Ike’s sleep. 

Turning quietly, you felt stupidly embarrassed at how you didn’t keep your bold declaration of winning and just wanted to run over to where the guys were to cry into the comforting solace of Clyde’s arms. After a whole entire year, you still felt like an absolute child in comparison to Stan. 

“Hey.” Dejectedly moving your head, you watch as the older teen walks over to the last ring laying on the ground and drops it over the stack that successfully made it over the bottle.

You’re confused, the influx of multiple different emotions you’re feeling at once causing your brain to lag when processing the situation. “... Uh?”

“Pick a prize, idiot—you won.” And just like that it’s back, the high admiration you have for the teen as you think about how that was such a cool high schooler thing to do.

“Oh.” A pretty pink slowly coats your cheeks, a soft smile curving along the edges of your lips as you desperately try to fight the grin threatening to break free on your face.

“I don’t know what I want, I don’t even have any stuffed toys anymore.” You shyly mumble because even though that was a huge fucking lie (you absolutely begged Craig to win you something just an hour earlier and wouldn’t stop annoying him until he relented), you said that because it just seemed like it was something that an older kid would say.

He studies your for a while, your fingers beginning to fidget at the undivided attention you’re finally being presented with. “I’ll pick for you, then.”

Just like last year, he rummages through the influx of stuffed toys along his booth before he pulls out two that he deems satisfactory. He holds them out, switching between looking at your face and the soft material of the plush in his hands a couple of times before resolutely putting one away.

“I love this flower.” You say around a grin, your hands delicately clutching the offered prize as you hold onto one with petals of a pretty pastel purple and a cute smiley face in the middle of it.

“Hm. I didn't know that, I only picked it because it looks like you.” He quickly dismisses your sentimental words, your eyes scanning over the soft pink of the blush of its cheeks and finding an appreciation of how he thought something so adorable reminded him of you.

Quickly turning around so he doesn’t spot your heated cheeks, you mumble out a grateful, “Thanks.”

“Whatever, kid.” And you couldn’t bring yourself to get mad at him for basically calling you a snot-nosed baby as you hugged the present closer to your chest, almost lightly cradling the lavender plush in your arms.

When you meet up with your friends again, there’s a bright grin on your face when Tolkien and Tweek compliment you on your prize before you yell at Craig for grabbing the plush and teasingly holding it away from your smaller frame.

[gravehags]

was inspired by @wisteria-lodge’s questions to get to know your character and wanted to answer them for curator reader

1. What is the character’s go-to drink order?

Has become mildly addicted to the sweet cream cold brew they serve in the dining hall of the Ministry but loves any kind of large iced beverage. For alcohol she won’t turn down anything but she loves gin and her favorite cocktail is a French 75 or an Aviation.

2. What is their grooming routine?

Showers at night in order to get the grime of the day off her before she crawls into bed. Is very low maintenance with her hair simply because she has no patience for it. Washes hair every two days.

3. What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go?

ART BOOKS. She’s an avid collector, particularly of exhibition catalogues. Her penchant for buying them has only gotten worse now that she has access to the Ministry’s resources.

4. Do they have any scars or tattoos?

Small scars everywhere from various mishaps, a big one on her knee from a bicycling accident as a kid, and a large tattoo on her left thigh of Judith with the head of Holofernes.

5. What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances?

Cries a lot. Like…a lot. Very emotional and while she might hate crying in front of people, it happens more often than she would like. Copia is the only person she doesn’t feel embarrassed to be emotional in front of.

6. Are they an oldest, middle, youngest, or only child?

Only child though she desperately wishes she had a sister, she doesn’t care older or younger. Was a surprise pregnancy for her parents.

7. Describe the shoes they’re wearing

Her go-to shoes to wear every day while she works are her black leather lace up ankle boots with a short heel. She fondly refers to them as her “witch boots” and also has a pair in brown.

8. Describe the place where they sleep

Her room is her safe haven - queen bed with lots of soft covers in different shades of blue. Definitely owns a Blåhaj. When she moved in at the abbey her room was painfully bare and she immediately started collecting artwork to decorate every inch of wall space. Found some great pieces in abbey storerooms and asked Sister Imperator if she could steal them - Imperator agreed.

9. What is their favorite holiday?

If you had asked her pre-events of Satan Baby she would have said Halloween but now? She adores Yule. Least favorite holiday is St. Patrick’s Day and it’s definitely not because she made a drunken fool of herself at a parade one year 👀

10. What objects do they always carry around with them?

Keys to her quarters and office on a lanyard around her neck, phone, the ring her parents gave her when she graduated college, a deep unspeakable yearning.

[cybersp4c3]

i don't think you see the itto pussy POTENTIAL

he's literally a bimbo. he's so large but he's literally so dumb and trusting he'll never fight what you wanna do to him, so you can manhandle him as much as you want. he'll let you grope and bite his fat tits until he starts giving milk and still go out in public with that sorry excuse for a shirt showing everyone how you covered his chest in hickeys and marks♡

he looks like the type to not wear underwear even before you corrupt him, so you can just bend him over, tear his short off him and fuck him wherever and whenever you want, lowkey he's the town bicycle, if he realises pussy=goods and services it's all over, he'll get fucked to get out of prison, after losing a fight he'd bet something on he'll switch it up and just let the other person fuck him instead, cockwarm the seller under the table whenever he wants to buy something he can't afford.

by the end of it he's got such a reputation he doesn't even need to offer, ppl just fuck him whenever! and by that point he's too addicted to cock to care that he's not getting anything out of it anymore.

anyways obv nobody uses a condom ever so he keeps getting knocked up but he miscarries the first few times from ppl fucking him too rough. by the time he's dating reader and they decide they get to choose who fucks him he's so used to pregancy just kinda going away he doesn't even tell them he's pregnant, cue itto giving birth to some random guy's baby.

obv you gotta knock him up too to compensate, so fuck his pussy every morning until he's so full of cum his stomack bulges a little, and plug him up so he can go about his day with your cum inside him

oh- bet he's screamer too, you'll have to gag him to make him shut up, and he squirts so hard he powerwashes the ceiling obv.

imagine tho he's been such a fucking slut some treasure hoarder gang gets wind of an oni fucktoy and decide to make some money off him, cue itto getting tied up and sent off to get nonstop gangbanged by random men for months, poor guy's too stupid to realize he's being trafficked, all he knows is he gets given drugs and then he gets to feel good all day♡ they have to gag him bc he always begs for the client to do more than he paid for so he's bad for business lmao, it's fine tho he looks real pretty with his throat bulging from a dildo gag at least, so to match they just stuff toys in all his holes when he's not being used

-🦷

Banger

[nothing0fnothing]

When I was 18 I chaperoned my baby brother at a party. He was 15 all his friends were 16 and I was there to make sure he was safe. He was at an age where kids would throw parties while the parents weren't home and would send the older looking good girls to buy drink to bring back. I was supposed to be protecting him.

When I got there alcohol bottles covered the dining table and the kids were stumbling drunk. I was there for about 10 minutes when I realised I wasn't the only adult there. The parents of the house were in.

The dad happily poured drinks for the kids and made merry. He poured me drinks too and wouldn't take no for an answer when I declined. I was trying to self moderate by drinking slowly but he'd put pressure on me to drink it fast. The other kids wanted what I had and he'd decline to prepare them a glass. The alcohol for them was out on the table to be mixed with 19p lemonade into clear plastic cups. My drinks were neat and came from seemingly nowhere before they appeared, perfectly chilled in a crystal glass in my hand. He wasn't drinking either. It made me uncomfortable but I was a girl and I wanted to be polite. I just chugged water to dilute the liquor and helped myself to a steady stream of whatever starchy foods were provided.

Less than two hours later I had locked myself in the bathroom. In a matter of moments I'd gone from silly and effervescent to stumbly and unsure of myself. Something had hit me and I fear it wasn't just drink. I was completely lucid, sharp and clear thinking, but my body was heavy and struggling. My hands were heavy and wouldn't follow direction, slipping off the taps as I tried to fill a basin to splash my face. My vision was blurred, my body wasn't listening to my brain and I was scared. I had to get the fuck out. Right now.

It would have been normal to call my mum right about then. Tell her that things were out of control, that I was out of commission and I needed her to get here and get us both out. I considered it for a second before a memory hit me so hard it was like I'd stepped back in time.

4 years before I sat on her couch while her boyfriend kicked me repeatedly. I'd been groomed by a sports coach. He'd added me through a team mate on Skype. He'd showed up to my school and walked me home. He'd proposed to me with a bracelet charm of a bicycle. My parents were furious. At me.

I yelped as the blows made contact with the fresh bruises he'd kicked onto me an hour earlier.

"I know this is all your fault" she'd told me as I cried. I heard it in my head like she was in the room with me and I started to cry again.

"This is all your fault"

"I know this is all your fault"

All my fault.

Mine.

My fault.

Fuck

I couldn't call her.

So what did I do instead? I ran away. Blacked out in a field. Came back to get my brother when I gained consciousness hours later, thankful I'd done it in a park instead of in the house I'd come from.

I got my brother and his friend, a 16 year old girl into an uber home. Then I went back to my flat and made a nuisance of myself for my housemate to deal with. I drank a half a bottle of her vodka, convinced if I could get it all down me I'd forget the entire day.

I really could have used a mum to count on then. Oh my gosh what I would have given in that moment to be a normal young girl whose fucked upbringing didn't make her a charged magnet for all of the perverts and freaks of the world. What I would have given while I cried in that bathroom and thought of another plan, to be someone who had someone to count on. Someone who cared and loved me and would show up because I needed them to. The type of girl whose mum wouldn't think it was my fault.

[diaperalex]

Hello diaperalex, I think it's really great how you make the bungee straps. Really overwhelming and really great. Can I ask you what diapers you wear? And do you sew the bungee straps yourself? I've already tried that, but unfortunately it didn't really work for me… I'm Benjamini from Germany and 22 years old. Where do you come from? LG Benjamini

Hello LG Benjamini, thank you for your kind words of appreciation for my jumping harnesses. 🙂 I live in Montreal area, and I wear plastic backed thick disposable diapers 24/7.

I buy material, make harnesses and accessories, list, pack and ship without any help. I make them all alone, using my own technique to ensure a very safe and super strong design of straps, allowing a fancier and super soft harness diaper/seat.

The comfort in a jumping harness is different for one person to another. It depends on the position in the harness, body weight, thick diaper or cotton undies, height adjustment, and proper bungee/springs tension.

There is a reason why they are made that way to remain in a straight standing position for a perfect bouncing alignment, and there is a reason why the suspension bars are so important to maintain a safe distance and eliminate the risk to hit head on anything above.

Once the fine tuning is done, allowing to get accustomed to be in a jumping harness is like riding a bicycle for the 1st time. It might or might not be uncomfortable. I have added a maximum of thick and wider premium quality high density foam in the 2nd generation. So far, I have zero negative feedback, and I am always working to improve them to ensure a quality handmade harness, and a pretty much unbreakable suspension bar.

Mission accomplished when I see happy faces, being little, secured, and enjoying their experience of bouncing like babies. 🙂

Diaper_Alex (Alex)

[paolapoppyxx]

Happy Human Friends Part 3: Toothy

Poor boy Name: Toothy Beaver

Age:16 Birthday: April 1

Family: Candy(Mom) Handy(Uncle)

Nationality: British

Sexuality: Straight Ally

Gender: Male Pronouns: he/him

Girlfriend: No

Best Friends: Cuddles, Sniffles

Personality: Friendly but lonely, naive, ugly, clumsy, insecure, emotional, cry baby, mama's boy, sweet tooth, secretly a trickster

Likes: Gardening, plants, reptiles, bicycle, movies, comics, cartoons, superheroes, watching TV, cleaning, brushing teeth, desserts, lollipops, coke, his mommy, his uncle

Hates: Bees, vegetables, fear, pain, bad words, loneliness, being bullied, his appearance

Fun Facts:

- His daddy went to buy milk

- He feels so lonely when Cuddles and Giggles spend time alone cuz Toothy has no other close friends

- His mom is a dentist and he wants to be a dentist too

- Very good singer

- Has self-confidence issues about his appearance

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

The Passenger

My mother was extremely nervous when driving a car. On one memorable occasion, when I was around 3 (and Mum was 24) she drove us to see her friend in the suburbs of Hobart, while Dad was at work. In them bygone days of no seatbelts, when little kids sat in the front seat, I had a great view out the windscreen. As Mum drove onto a multi-lane ONE WAY road, going the wrong way. Into oncoming traffic. 

I clearly remember cars barrelling directly at us. Honking and swerving to both right and left. Poor Mum was distraught, as she just drove slowly down the road, until the next intersection. Where it was possible to turn out of the way of the hurtling traffic... 

My memory of childhood impressions of this event are completely at odds with my realisation, now as an adult, of the gravity of what happened. At the time, I thought it was all rather funny and exciting. Like being on a dodgem car ride at the fair. Or watching a madcap scene in a cartoon, or movie comedy. It would be years before I understood what death even was, and that Mum had narrowly swerved under the Grim Reaper’s scythe that day.

But at the time, with me giggling like a loon, Mum must have realised that I was not in tune with realities. I might cheerily pipe up with an account of the day's death-defying hell-ride to our next door neighbour. Or dish out the deadly details at dinnertime, when Dad came home. She made me promise not to tell anyone what had happened. 

I also remember sitting in the back seat of the family’s Toyota Corolla, while Dad gave Mum a driving lesson one weekend, in the vacant parking lot of the University of Tasmania. We were surrounded by open empty space on all sides as Mum kangaroo hopped forward at about 2 miles per hour. Sick with the fear that she’d kill us all.

Mum's tell when she was stressed was a "tut-tut" clicking of her tongue. Her anxiety was often contagious, and never more-so than when she was driving. Dad became agitated. Although a professional educator, he could be impatient when teaching his family. That fuelled Mum's agitation, which made Dad more irritable. That driving lesson was a feedback loop of irritation, tension, and anxiety.

Even as a child I was aware Mum was often anxious, but didn’t see my father that way. Only in adulthood did I realise that Dad was often nervous too, and that the nervousness of others compounded his own. Often, what appeared as anger, was actually Dad’s anxiety, cloaked in bluster. And a lot of swearing (which was a tell of Dad’s). 

One time, I was a passenger as Dad drove to drop off baby brother Alex at child-minding. Which required crossing the busiest road in town. As we pulled up to the intersection, Dad hunched, with his tongue between his teeth (another tell) when baby Alex chimed in from the back seat - “Oh, f∇<k!” I had to laugh, and Dad did too. Explaining that Alex had learned to associate that word with this particular intersection. Hearing the phrase at this exact same spot every single day. 

Long after she’d died, Dad & I were swapping memories of Mum. We both had a chuckle about the time Mum & Dad squabbled while driving through the Scottish highlands, and our car landed in a ditch by the side of the one-lane country road. We were very lucky that a car coming the other way was able to pull us out of trouble. Mum & Dad were both immediately sheepish in the aftermath.

I asked Dad if Mum had ever told him of her one-way misdirection when I was small. Dad was genuinely surprised. Despite being a chatterbox all my life, and especially when I was a wee boy, I kept that long ago promise to Mum. I didn’t tell anyone, until after she’d left us.

Passenger & Driver. Chillin'.

You might wonder if I’m a nervous driver too. The fact is that I’ve never driven. I’d just begun learning (getting my own cranky driving lessons from Dad) when Mum got sick. The focus for our family was elsewhere for the next year. Next, I was working in Sydney. Too broke to buy a car, I rode a bicycle instead. I was soon living abroad, in tangled Megapolises like Tokyo. Challenging places for a driver’s test, even if I could speak the language. When finally living in an English-speaking city, I’d been in the habit of not driving for so many years that it stuck. 

Besides, I’m descended from two worrywart nervous drivers. The world is a safer place without me behind the wheel. I’m frankly amazed that almost everyone else drives. 

Me, I’m a lifelong passenger. 

[alarrytale]

Ultimate clowning but anyone noticed that from the recent pap photos (and now even video) there’s 7 missing on the clock in the background above H’s head? Also I couldn’t stop laughing when H showed us new bag coming up with new collection from his not-so-Satisfying brand and literally 3 hours after we got those pap photos the announcement of the not-so-Satisfying new collection dropped on IG like…lol, patterns are patterning. Do you think that shopping was staged or he just said “I’m gonna go check some shops so you can take photos while I’m shopping” while really buying stuff or he was just pretending he’s buying something but hadn’t bought anything? You know how much staged were those? And last one, I know he’s with his PA (who only by coincidence has very similar name as H’s man lol) but they look like boyfriends lol. And H looks so tired and his tiny baby belly showed in one moment, he’s probably not really into healthy habits right now and I like it that he looks like human with all puffed and tired face and imperfections.

Hi, anon!

No, i hadn't noticed the 7 was missing from the clock, lol. Sometimes, some things are just a coincidence. Funny coincidences though.

What is not a coincidence is H being papped when the not so satisfying brand is dropping new stuff. That's like clockwork lmao.

H and Luis does look like boyfriends, and we all know if it was a woman there would be fandom mayhem. And the pap walk was very much set up to promote all the brands. The citrus fruit bicycle brand and the not so satisfying brand. They walked towards the pap and turned around and walked away from him again. Job done. Bag promoted.

Also, Luis being there with him tells me he's definitly there to work. Also he's got no fake relationship to plug now, so he's taking his assistant along to make the pics more interesting.

[cutie-meow-meow]

Hinata Shoyo as a Boyfriend :

🐣 A RAY OF SUNSHINE.

🐣He's like a playful puppy, never runs out of energy.

🐣With the amount of energy he have he makes it his job 24/7 trying to make you smile and cheering you up basically your own cheerleader of a bf.

🐣Bad days what are those, cuz he doesn't know either and his baby shouldn't know as well. Believe me he is like a bubble of positive energy .

🐣Always excited to see you, if he was away for a match he will text you a lot to update you about everything you're his baby and bestie.

🐣Likes to take you out on small dates to his favorite cafe or restaurant, buying you all kinds of delicious food.

🐣Can't take his eyes off of you. Staring at you and daydreaming while smiling , and he is not shy about it "you look pretty can't take my eyes off you darling ".

🐣Drags you everywhere with him because he feels utterly happy around you.

🐣Buys you a gift like a crow shaped plushie and seeing how you got happy he started buying more soon you will need a bigger house to fit all the plushies.

🐣Cuddles are his oxygen needs them to survive, 24/7 clinging to your neck, likes to be the little spoon.

🐣Can't sleep unless he has you in his arms.

🐣Loves to ride bicycle with you around the town when the weather is good.