#got greedy and lost money. losers

[guzhufuren]

fucking vindication

in contrast:

[the-firebird69]

You're gonna tell this guy to go hell and we're gonna tell him today over and over I'm sick of hearing from this **** **** **** next door very it's in there drill again and we should have some sort of comeback and something for him to do and apparently we don't so he's just gonna keep drilling him until he's gone he's a leader it doesn't deserve the treatment doesn't want it finds it to be trite and unnecessary it doesn't do anything it shines a light on him. It says that he's going to go up there and use the red eye on Jupiter as an excuse to threaten for Hara to be in his possession. That was John Remelard saying it said the other day and I hope you know that's kind of a secret weapon system.

Thor Freya

We know it's driven by the max but still they've got some of those out there and we're going after them and death stars and things like that and they're going to come down there's infighting we have cover and we're going to use it there are several fleets that are slowly making their way towards Jupiter. We also have a fleet or two that is going towards Venus and several going towards Earth the fleets going towards Venus are Trump BJA pseudo empire and now the empire and it will be us and foreigners right now we're moving out and we're going to be within range of the approaching Morlock Fleet in moments they're sending 500 billion. 300 billion of theirs approaching Earth the same crew is intercepting. The fleets of approaching Jupiter are really it is mostly Trump and his flanked by BJA and he is shadowed by the pseudo empire who want him to perform the project. They're being followed by the empire. This is what's going on right now. Charlotte County the 5 million each Are being killed no they're gone they're getting down to just a few percent points of leaders trumpsters have almost 1.9 percent BJ a has 3% in the pseudo empire has 4%. The greedy the losers and they have money they can't use and they're ridiculous. Just like Gareth wanted revenge. And he's getting revenge there's a couple other things john Remillard is going to be sentenced Monday. he was found guilty of a criminal offense so he's hot to trot. Several other things as an update watching our son eat quite a bit he lost some calories I need to tell you that these people are all fanatically wrong and we need to put the our fist in their face so they stop doing this. They're way over the top I don't see how he's gonna get paid anything with these nonsense people here. It's time to go after them hard. The hell out of here. Watch any television show it's always got the idiot on it and he has way too many things to do in a day he's a fried piece of crap we need to stop him now get he and his out. There's other news they are forming up another percent that's the trumpsters and a half percent in the Western Hemisphere for the bunkers the percent is for all the tunnels not really it's mostly the West and he's going to be down to 2% after that off Island. His plan on doing something on the island but later on and says he wants possession. In a sense says so what i'll kill you myself and burn your ****. It's true too he hates him very badly. There's a couple other things to know BJA has called 2% and he's splitting it between the pseudo empire and the tunnels in the Western Hemisphere and in Brazil as well they probably will get wiped out and he's gonna be left with 6.5 percent off island. And will continue and there's several other things that we are going after the statues and caches due to repeated virulent threats and we verified some of it is somewhat valid so we have to go in and take their stuff and false flag would be good. There's success coming with the Giants there's three that are going to be ready to come out very soon and it's going to be spectacular. Takes a few minutes and then they're out and invisible. it is two of them near Bernie Mann or at it one of them is off when Monaco they're almost ready. We do have a few things more. This is a big problem here this situation this guy next door is a huge animal and is constantly harassing our son very badly and we want him out and he says there's a pathway we and we want him out and he says there's a pathway we should follow it and make it ours and we do agree. So go ahead and do that and he is an arrogant weasel about it and says you can't stop him and all this and I do see what he's saying he's willing to die for the cause and he's going to and he will be interned in the tomb not on the throne. And yeah there's an argument there OK so we're going to watch him die soon on September 22nd according to the max and it's coming up and he does get cut off from the continental army as Nathan Hale it is a story you can read about.

Frank Castle Hardcastle

our son is involved in the history of this and he lives around back then occasionally the max seemed to think it wasn't much but he was and they don't understand how no they know so it's gonna be interesting and a pain but at least to be not as unpleasant as this malarkey

Thor Freya

I am coming around the bend you better watch out you little twerp . It says who you talking to he says it. You. And when are we gonna get to do anything ever and we'll see you we're gonna read the story and he says thank you.

Hera

Oympus

[haiangels]

you got games on your phone?

genre: fluff, slightly suggestive??

characters: bonten

y/n plays cup pong with bonten on imessage

sanzu ;

agrees to play and plays casually

would get competitive when you keep winning

gets upset and challenges you to a match in real life

with real beer

would beat you and brag about it to you and everyone in their office group chat

nothing matters as long as he wins

would drag the other members into the game just to show off how amazing his aim is

mikey ;

would be so confused on how to play

misses every shot and loses every round; baby's really bad at aiming on phone

it got to the point where you end up having to call or facetime him to teach him how to play

and when he finally gets a ball into a cup, he gets excited and tells you about it in call

"did you see that, y/n?!? did you, did you?? I GOT ONE IN!"

he'd practice with the other bonten members, without you knowing, to improve

is smug when he beats them in every round

rindou ;

would accept immediately

he's been wanting to play with someone for a long time, but everyone else ignores him

he wants to show off his skills; he's been practicing by himself

which is why he has two phones

would let you do your moves and would purposely lose until the last round. this is when he busts out his own moves and wins the game

"HAH LOSER, I WIN."

you'd block him for a day and ignore him for a few hours

ran ;

no mercy.

beats you every round and rubs it in your face

when you do manage to beat him, he demands a rematch

he's a sore loser; can't handle being beaten by you

would be petty and challenge you to strip uno "how does this even correlate to cup pong, ran??"

"shush, be prepared to strip, y/n."

would treat it like it's his lifeline. he just has to win.

kaku ;

he so kind

he so nice

he would let you win on purpose

doesn't care about the game at all, he just wants to see you happy

would pretend to not know how to play just so you can call him and teach him

loves listening to you talk and laugh, hence why he loses on purpose

would do anything to make you happy

koko ;

he's actually good at the game

would ask to turn it into a bet; he's greedy for money

he's good, but you're better. staying glued to your phone 24/7 has paid off

loses the bet, and like ran, would challenge you to a game irl

can stand losing, only when money isn't involved

would bet again at the irl match and wins + rubs it in your face "HAH you may be better on phone, but im GOD in real life."

would give you the money he won regardless

omi ;

honestly, he isn't fond of phone games. he'd much rather play in real life

wouldn't even reply to your game invitation

he ignores and leaves you on read

finds you in his office and runs outta there immediately

HE SUCKS AT CUP PONG LOL but his ego is too big to admit that

when the other bonten members tell you this, you'd ask him about it

his response? "i lost on purpose. trust."

mochi ;

he's good at the game

but he doesn't want to play, he's been playing too often and got tired of it

doesn't ignore like omi, he has the decency to tell you no

but it's a "no." with a heart

buys you boba and popcorn chicken to make it up to you

tells you funny stories about the other members' losses

spoils you rotten

thanks for reading!

reblogs/comments are appreciated ♡

[yvningshowers]

Aiight bet I’m here for the holiday drabbles.

I’ve been thinking about Katsu and family game night at the Christmas party. All the board games and how loud he’d be. He’d fit in perfectly with the rest of the fam. Calling people cheaters, demanding rematches, giving high fives when y’all win rounds. Just rowdy fun games with the fam.

Your brain. So big. I gotchu. But also I'm pitting you against your man because it's FUN

If you want holiday drabbles send me ur fav and as much detail as possible ❤

"Pay up, peasant."

You watch that muscle in his jaw jump and you smile wider, making little grabby hands at him while your family looks on in amusement.

"Your man's a sore loser, Marquie."

This is criminal. He's a hero, ya know, he could put you behind bars for this. And he's not being a sore fucking loser, alright, he doesn't know how to be one, and he's about to let whoever said that know.

"Fuck you- I'm not handing over shit!"

Because he's never lost.

Your grin is mean, he thinks it's because you're so used to him having the upper hand at anything you play that doesn't require some considerable level of luck, and because you're a vicious winner: it's just one of many reasons why you two get along so well. You know that, and you also know that pissing him off a little now... might be fun later. You're batting your lashes at him, and he's snarling at someone who's peeking over his shoulder to see just how badly he's losing with a low whistle and a laugh.

"If you don't have the money, you know, you can always pay some other way." That earns more low whistles from everyone watching the debacle going down, and some ews that get laughed away when someone's kid yells loudly, "I don't get it!" Katsuki is absolutely fuming, every broad muscle of his is taut- he came here to win and you and your family are fucking playing games right now?

"I spent all of my money on your fucking gifts you no good, selfish, greedy-!" Ah and that's true, he did, you've got that new necklace that you unwrapped and cried over earlier in the day sitting pretty on your chest right now, your birthstone gleaming like your smile, and you know he's trying to gruffly win your good grace by guilting you but aw, too bad Katsuki, this and that are just- well, they're two separate things, aren't they?

"Mhm. We have an old game of Operation, Katsu, if that's more your speed-" and with that he knows he's truly lost, and he's slapping the money down on the board, hard, accompanied by raucous laughter from everyone around, much to his chagrin.

"Here, take it. Fuckin' take it! Damn." And yet his ire doesn't last long, something overtakes him as he watches you count your money with a little bounce in your seat, you fucking minx. You look to him with smugness, ready to continue your teasing, and find yourself staring into red eyes with entirely too much mirth in them.

"What, what's with that look?" He looks positively evil right now, smile all teeth and gum as he leans across the table with entirely too much weight.

"Nothin'. Keep counting your money, Puffs." His confidence rolls through you like lightning and you're squirming in your seat, money now a little damp from suddenly sweaty palms. "No, I wanna know why you're making that... that face, at me, right now."

"Because you're about to roll a five or a six and I'm getting it all back from you in a second here."

He's got two huge, huge hotels sitting right next to each other on the board, and you've been lucky this entire game; he's been taking money from everyone else that so much as breathes near his properties, and somehow you've skated by with a full wallet, but Katsuki has always had a strange sixth sense for when he's about to gain the upper hand. But you're cocky, and his money is still sitting fresh in your hands, so you put it down and shrug, throwing the dice, a little snarky with the snarl you throw his way. "Fat chance of that." Those dice, thrown a little too hard with your indignance, go rolling off the table, down to the floor below, and you and Katsuki share a glance before you both scramble to find them, determined to see where the numbers ended up.

Under someone else's seat, sitting very prettily next to each other, are two dice, stared down at by the two of you in disbelief.

4. 2.

"SIX!" He bellows, loud, and above the two of you your family erupts into laughter and groans, and loud protests- and cheers, whoever was on Bakugou's side is going to get a strong word from you later- but he's grinning so wide in your face that all you can think of right now is who is going to win this game, because depending on the outcome you're either going to be calling in sick for work on Monday or calling a lawyer when he works his way out quickly from under the table to bear his teeth down at you and point his finger at you face and say, breathless and chest heaving with ill won pride,

"Pay up, peasant. And go ahead and pull that Operation shit out, I'll beat you at that too."

[revirushifaa]

If you've listened to the audiodrama of Levi and MC eavesdropping on Luci's conversation with Diavolo, can you please write a continuation of it where MC gets them out of punishment by pulling out Uno (or the 2+ player game of your choice) and inviting him to join them in the game they had been about to start. Luci accepts MC' s invitation to Levi's shock and spends an hour or two sitting on the floor behind the couch (MC insists it's the best spot for playing) playing with the two of them.

Ahh of course! In fact that was the animatic from a user in YouTube that I watched so I know what you mean, haha, this will be fun to write! I decided they play Monopoly(Or Devilopoly lol) as I don't really know the Uno cards game's rules, I'm more of Monopoly so, Monopoly it'll be!

Neutral MC because there wasn't a specified gender in the request.

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

Getting Away With Mischief

After Lucifer ended up the call with Diavolo by phone, he then proceeded to advance behind the couch that Levi and MC where sitting at.

"You two." He began with that deep, frightening tone of his.

'Oh, crap.' Levi gulped when he knew that they were both toasted because of Lucifer and his tendency of dealing everything in a terrifying way.

"What do you think you're doing sitting behind the sofa while I'm on the phone?" He said with a very terrifying grin to the two frightened Levi and MC.

"Oh, um, well, you see..." Levi stuttered, knowing that the two were busted and cornered. There was no way that they would get out of the punishment that there was in for them. Until MC raised their hand and spoked up, much to Levi's dismay. No one could defy the eldest brother.

"Wait! Can we talk this over another way? How about we play some board game?" MC said with hopeful eyes.

“Oh? A board game you say? Very well, let’s see what game you have in mind.” Much to the shock of the third oldest’s shock. What? Lucifer letting them off easily? In what world?? Was this still his brother?? Woah!

MC smiled big, knowing they won this over and that they were free of whatever punishment the Avatar of Pride had in store for them(Levi, of course knew what it was, but MC was new to the so-well known punishments that the eldest always dished out.), pulled out what in their world they called, a large box containing the game of Monopoly.

“This game is up to eight players, so it’s all good with the three of us, playing it.” They beckoned the two brothers behind the couch and sat down, explaining the rules and how the game was played. It would’ve been Mammon’s forte, since he was so greedy when it came to money, even if this was fake money.

“There are eight tokens, you can choose the one that you want to play as. I choose the dog.” MC chose first, grabbing the dog token.

“If that’s the case, I get the car.” Lucifer answered simply, picking up the car token, and Levi chose the tennis shoe.

They were given an exact amount of money and soon they started. MC went first and they got four. Next went Lucifer, and he got six in the first try. And Levi only got two. So the eldest was to go first. He moved the car token six spaces until he got to a question mark space. MC took a card from the card pile and for Lucifer it was the free jail pass, he was such a lucky one.

“You keep this card with you for all the game, lucky you.” MC had wanted to get it, but they were beaten to it so they handed it over to the demon. Lucifer smirked like putting emphasis that because he was the eldest, he had the luck with him. Levi rolled his eyes, and saw as it was MC’s turn, they advanced four spaces and landed on an avenue, they knew that the they started selling properties in the next round, so they left the token where it fell. Levi went last and advanced two spaces... he was the least lucky one as he fell on the jail spot.

“You go to jail and can’t get out until you play a double or pay for it.” MC explained and Levi groaned, great. Now he would just watch Lucifer and MC playing silently. He was rooting for MC to win, but knew it would take quite the long while to accomplish that, until one of them ended in bankrupt and had sold every single of the properties.

And so back a forth the only two players of the game continued their game. Then they started with the selling of properties, they were still  having the same amount of money.

MC had played this game plenty of times in their world with their family or friends, so they knew their own stuff, it was quite interesting that this human was playing against Lucifer of all demons, but even they knew that they could end either as the winner or as the loser of all the game, because Lucifer was not being an easy task, he also seemed to have known his stuff as he impeccably was playing with all his knowledge and might.

MC ended up in jail and they groaned too, now Levi wasn’t alone in there, but know they had to wait until they could get out, Lucifer smirked again.

“Mm, looks like we know who will be the winner.” As always as prideful and boastful, Lucifer bragged about it much to Levi and MC’s annoyance but they didn’t say a thing, and saw as Lucifer was going alone in every round, he was a lucky one because he had the get out of jail free card so he wouldn’t be able to end in jail.

Eventually, Levi and MC got free of jail and took their tokens once again and resumed their game... it were two good hours in the game and soon they knew who was the winner.

Of course it was Lucifer as expected, MC only wanted to save themselves from the discipline from the eldest, so they didn’t at all care that they lost. Same coul be said about Levi who looked calm now, knowing that there won’t be any worry to be hung from the ceiling along with MC, they were new, they didn’t deserve to be scared like that.

“Well, congratulations, you won, feel happy!” MC congratulated him.

Lucifer smirked. “Consider yourselves free from what was going to happen, only because I won and I am in a such good mood. You are lucky.” And he gave himself an applause, before standing up and nodding, he had to go do something else, so he left both MC and Levi to their own fun.

“MC, you’re awesome, thank you so much for saving our skin from Lucifer... you have no idea how he was going to punish us and frankly, I’m so glad that you didn’t find out what it was.” To Levi that was a scary experience, but if he told to MC what that was all about, they might think that it didn’t sound too bad. Being hung from the ceiling was something many would’ve preferred than to being beaten up mercilessly and without any pity to crying.

“Whatever it was, I’m so glad too, Levi. Ahhh. Let’s never eavesdrop on your brother, okay? No good things happen when that happens.” MC sighed and the both of them agreed on never cause Lucifer to get mad and do hell to any of them.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Aurora fluff where her and MC are in bed, and MC is just softly tracing over Rory's scars from being in the gang and it's cute and fluffy

Written by: Anonymous

Aurora never knew the meaning of the word “content”, She was always rushing, greedy,  flirting with every girl she likes, winning in poker whenever she wants, it's just a whirlwind of scenarios that she can't seem to get enough of. That was until MC barged into her life.

Trusting her was hard, especially since her parents quite literally stole from her, she wanted to make MC suffer because of her parents, maybe cry a few tears, be her personal maid, the least thing she expected was to be inside MC's embrace, the woman holding her gently, whispering small words of affirmation and comfort, laughing silently.

“Stop, MC! I mean it!” Aurora hides her blushing cheeks on MC's neck

“You can't hustle a hustler huh.” MC teased, her hands gliding towards Aurora's arms, tracing scar after scar with a small smile on her face

“I didn't expect you to use such a cheap trick.” Rory huffs, still bummed she lost at poker

“Hmm.” MC contemplates on whether to ask Rory about her scars, her fingers still gently tracing, now slightly tempted

“I got that one when I got shot in New York, I just won a huge amount of money from an old man, who's a sore loser. Got his goons to chase and shoot me, nicked me on my shoulders.” Rory had a glazed look on her eyes, almost like she's reliving the scars she has.

“How about this one?” MC pointed to a small scar on Rory's palm

“Ah. Tried to stop Yoshimitsu's blade with my gloved hand, Didn't work.” She puffs out a small laugh

“Why did you think that was a good idea Rory?” MC shot her a “why-the-hell-did-you-think-that-was-a-good-idea” look

“Spur of the moment thing” She shrugged, moving slightly away to hold MC's face in her hands, the action giving way to a scar MC hadn't seen before.

[10:47 PM]

MC trails her hand stopping on a particularly large scar on her chest, a frown settling on her face, it looks bad, it's right in front of Rory's heart too. Aurora notices the quick shift in MC's mood, her eyes followed MC's and finds herself smirking.

MC lifts her head up, about to ask when she finds Rory's mischievous smirk.

“...I'm almost afraid to ask” MC mumbled

“Oh, do ask.” Rory's smirk widens

“How did this happen?”

“Well... There's this girl...” Aurora says with a teasing tone in her voice. Laughing when MC rolls her eyes.

“There's this girl okay? Don't laugh. But there's this girl who managed to steal my heart, cut it right here.” She holds MC's hand in hers and kisses it softly

“Should I be jealous?” MC scoffed

Rory could see everything that's swirling in MC's brain, it's evident in her eyes. She lightly laughs, before placing her soft lips on MC's. Her eyes widen slightly at the sudden affection before kissing back, smiling into the kiss. Rory pulls back, a look of admiration in her eyes.

“What?” MC asked, still dazed

“I'm looking at her.”

“What?” MC once again asks, making Rory chuckle

“The girl that stole my heart. I'm looking at her.” MC blushes a bright red, it was now her turn to hide her face in Rory's neck

Trying to compose herself, failing when Rory's chest vibrated due to laughter.

“I guess stealing runs in the family huh?”

MC thinks of a way to get her back, ultimately deciding on biting Rory's neck

“OW! Hey!” Aurora complained, pulling away, only to see MC smiling

“I'm gonna get you back,” Aurora lunges at MC, her laughing as Rory playfully wrestles her with MC fighting her back. They both laugh as they ended up ruining the scattered deck of cards on their bed

“...I love you” MC blurts out, surprising Rory, but after that initial shock, Rory grins

“I love you too MC. More than you know”

[10:47 PM]

When they settled back to their previous position. MC decided to lovingly kiss every single scar Rory has, not forgetting to tell her how attractive she looks with them, She could swear she saw unshed tears on Rory's chocolate eyes, but when she doubled back to actually look, they were gone. She just smiled, knowing that Aurora likes to be the tough one in the relationship.

They ended up spending the night in each other's arms, talking about everything and anything, stealing kisses here and there, longing looks and happy smiles settled on their faces.

It was at that moment that Aurora thought: Life could never be better than this.

[colossal-fallout]

Hello love

🏴‍☠️, 🍒,🌶 with a male bodied reader

🏴‍☠️ Mikasa

🍒 Amusements

🌶 fluff

"It's a con." A frown pulls down the corners of Mikasa's mouth as she hovers behind you.

"I know." You chew threw your teeth in frustration; the glass screen of the claw machine fogging up from how close your face was to the murky surface. "But you gotta time it right and I - "

The claw doesn't even attempt a grip on the rare collectable figure you'd been trying to get.

"F------" You refrain yourself from cursing. A group of small children are nearby. And with your ignited temper, you didn't think an angry parent would be a good idea right now.

The infuriating loser horn sounds once more, the claw retracting it's greedy steel fingers back into its starting bay.

"I can get you one online." She comforts as you turn away from the machine that, at this point, might as well just come alive and cry out Sarah Conner, as the "play again" siren tries to pull you back in.

"It's not even about that." You hiss, a sure sign of your annoyance. "I have. to. beat. the. machine."

Mikasa looks shocked for a moment before letting out a small laugh behind her hand. "Okay. One more. Let me try."

"No. Don't feed it any more money." Your voice lowers, glancing at the kids. "Money grabbin' son of a - "

Before you could finish, Mikasa brushes you aside and slots in a coin, that all too familiar start up sound like nails on a chalkboard to you by now.

Your eyes glance at your girlfriends face; stoic and bored as usual, but you knew that underneath her calm exterior, her brain was ticking.

You couldn't even hide your hopeless and exasperated expression as you watch the hand lower into the pile of goodies below.

Everything seems to slow down.

Time stands still. Your heart thumps within your ears. A man drops his pot of coins. Children are crying.

"I can't look..." You shut your eyes, melodramatically.

"Got it." She mutters.

Your heart leaps, eyes flying open. "R-really?!"

"No." She sighs, the loser horn antagonising you once more.

You can't quite remember what happens next. All you know is you lost your temper, and you're being escorted out by security.

You smoke your cig, embarrassed as you wait for Mikasa to follow you out. To your utter surprise, she comes out with a huge grin on her face; your prize in her hands.

"Wh- what? When? How...?"

"I beat the machine." She shrugs. "All for you, my love."

Your heart melts as she hands you your gift. One you'll surely treasure forever.

"I love you..." You sigh, lacing your free hand into hers. "Who needs prizes, when I got you huh?"

She blushes as you both walk away.

Little did you know, when the Security returned, they noticed the broken glass of the claw machine. You didn't think she would actually "beat the machine."

[kinglazrus]

For the prompt list thing any chance you wanna do random, #5?

Random #5 - “I would call you an imbecile but that’d be cruel as you wouldn’t be able to spell it.”

It Could be Weird

Danny’s life is weird. Everybody knows it. Even if they don’t know about his part-timejob of being dead, they know about his eccentric ghost-hunting parents, and his uptight psychology obsessed sister, and his own eternal fascination with space.

They know the food in his lunchbox is sometimes alive. They know the lump in his backpack’s water bottle holder isn’t a water bottle but a compact ectogun. They know Danny sleeps above a portal to another dimension.

But they don’t know the weirdest thing about Danny’s life which, amazingly enough,is not the fact that he’s half-dead. It’s that for the past five nights Danny has come home from ghost patrol to find Dash Baxter sitting in his living room, wearing glasses.

Tonight, Danny sneaks in through his bedroom window, phasing through the class. He dumpsthe thermos on his bed—he’ll empty it out later—shakes out the dust and dried ectoplasm from his hair and transforms. Snatching a hoodie off his chair, he fires a harmless ectoblast at his radio on his way out the door, cutting off the music he put on to make it seem like he was home.

He hops down the stairs, tugging the sleeves of his hoodie over his split knuckles, and pauses on his way to the kitchen. Just like yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that, Dash sits cross-legged in front of the coffee table. His homework is spread out before him, a textbook at his elbow, a pencil in his hand, and a frown on his face.

Jazz sits on the couch holding an identical textbook—Danny’s copy, he recognizes thebloodstain on the spine—and quietly talks Dash through a lesson on cellular development.

Despite coming home to a similar scene four days in a row, it’s still so bizarre thathe stares too long and Jazz catches him watching.

“Did you do your homework?” Jazz asks. The unspoken before ghost hunting lingers between them.

“No.”

“Liar.”

“Fine. I’m going to do it now,” he says.

“You’re still lying,” Jazz singsongs. She slips a page in Danny’s textbook and glances up at him. “You need to keep your grades up if you want to keep…”

She glances at Dash, who’s pencil has stopped moving and is sitting oddly still.

“… making friends. After school.”

“Making friends.” Danny raises an eyebrow at her. He wishes that’s what he was doing after school. It’d be a hell of a lot kinder on his bones.

Jazz flushes but refuses to be cowed. “Get your stuff, you’re working in here.”

Danny tips his head back, groaning, and heads back upstairs to get his backpack.

—

Danny hasn’t touched his homework in five minutes. He gnaws on the end of his pencil,the metal band squishing between his teeth, flicking the eraser with his tongue to make the pencil swing back and forth. Every few seconds, Jazz sends him an admonishing look over the top of Danny’s textbook.

“That’s not working,” she says.

“I’m contemplating the philosophic implications of my assignment,” Danny says.

Jazz doesn’t look impressed.

Danny doesn’t really blame her. His chin is resting on a math textbook.

“It’s important,” he says. “How can I figure out how many pounds of fudge Anabelle has leftover without first considering why she has it? Or where she got it from? Or what the hell a triangle has to do with it?”

Maybe she’s a distant relative of their father’s.

Jazz rolls her eyes and leans over Dash’s shoulder, scanning the questions he’s working on.

“This one’s wrong,” she says, pointing halfway down the page.

Dash huffs, scowling, and furiously erases his answer.

It fascinates Danny. He’s never seen Dash so focused on something that didn’t involve a football or beating Danny up. Not to mention the glasses. Since when does Dash have glasses? They’ve been in the same class since kindergarten and he’s never seen them before.

Not to mention, Dash hasn’t insulted Danny once since he sat down on the other side of the table. Maybe Dash got hit in the head by a stray ectoblast when Kitty showed up during gym class.

Danny spits his pencil out of his mouth, ignoring the disgusted look Jazz gives him,and says, “I thought you already proved you could tutor the ‘untutorable.’”

“I did,” Jazz says. Shaking her long sleeve out over her hand, she reaches out and swats Danny’s pencil back toward him. “I thought you were being philosophical about brownies.”

“Fudge,” Danny corrects her. “And I decided the Fenton appetite is beyond the comprehension of even the greatest philosophers.”

“Anabelle’s a Fenton now?”

“My favourite cousin.”

“Uh-huh.” Jazz closes her borrowed textbook and sets it down on the cushion beside her, folding her hands in her lap. “If you aren’t going to do your work you can just–”

“Jazz!” Their mother’s voice echoes up the basement stairs. “Can you come downhere for a moment?”

Jazz sighs but gets up without a fuss. She points at Danny before heading downstairsand says, “Be nice. Don’t distract my student.”

“Me? But he's­– wait, your student?”

Jazz turns away, leaving Danny sputtering and alone with Dash.

It takes Danny a moment to compose himself. When he does, he shoves his homeworkaside, slams his hand on the table, and leans across it into Dash’s personal space.

“Okay, what the hell, why do you keeping coming here?” Danny asks. “Are you hitting on my sister again? Because she already said no, don’t be a creep. I sent the last guy who messed with her to the Ghost Zone.”

Rather than leaning away, Dash gets in Danny’s face and sneers. “Chill out, Fenturd, don’t be an ass.”

“If you're–”

“I said chill out.” Dash shoves Danny’s face away. “You’re sister’s pretty smart, okay? And I need help with science.”

“You really think I’m gonna believe that?” Danny sits back and crosses his arms. Like hell. He remembers how gross Dash was hitting on his sister in ninth grade. Two years was not long enough to recover from that emotional travesty.

“I’m failing the class, okay?” Dash snaps, cheeks red. “I gotta pull my grade up to a C or else I’m off the football team.”

“Oh.” The fight goes out of Danny pretty quickly. He scratches his head and looksaway. “Okay, whatever. My grades aren’t that great either.”

“Yeah, but you’re a loser.”

“Seriously?” Danny glares across the table. “You can’t be civil for two seconds? I wastrying to be nice or whatever, but if you’re just gonna be an ass about it, fine. Wonder how you’re friends’d react to that.”

Dash wrinkles his nose. “What? They already know.”

“And they didn’t kick you out of your little club?” Danny asks flippantly.

“You think we’re that shallow?”

Danny stares at Dash. He can’t be serious. He can’t be that oblivious. All the A-listers care about are looks, money, and popularity, and Danny knows that firsthand.

“I bet Valerie does.”

Dash at least has the mind to look ashamed, and Danny feels a little vindicated at the sight of his downturned eyes.

“You guys were pretty damn cruel to her after she lost all her money. Are you telling me that wasn’t shallow?” Danny asks smugly.

“Like you’re so great, Fenton.”

“A hell of a lot better than you.”

Dash laughs. It’s loud and mocking, and he throws his head back as he does it. “Oh my god. You know how many times I’ve seen you brush off those friends of yours? Didn’t you, like, ditch them to go to a party freshman year? And you replaced them with robots once.”

“Hey, there was more going on there!” Danny defends himself. He doesn’t even know how Dash heard about the robots, but there was more to it, a ghost that could make you greedy.

Danny took care of it pretty quickly once he realized what was up, although that didn’t stop him from feeling like a massive jerk afterwards. But at least he didn’t mean it, and he knew he was a bad friend at that time.

“I don’t think you realize how much I don’t give a shit,” Dash says. “Just leave me alone, Fenton. And if you tell anyone besides my friends about this, I’ll shove you in so many lockers.”

Danny scowls. “Fine. Don’t flirt with my sister though.”

“No problems there. I’m not into girls.”

It takes Danny a second to process that. “Huh.”

“You got a problem with that?”

“What? No. Like, pretty much everyone I’m friends with is in the queer community,myself included. I thought you liked Paulina. And, you know, you flirted with my sister? And pretty much every single cheerleader.” Danny thinks back, trying to remember if there were any hints. Dash used to flirt with girls a lot, but he can’t actually remember him hitting on anyone in the past year. “You know what that is? Growth.”

“Don’t quote gifs at me, loser.” There’s less bite in Dash’s insult and more resignation. The sound of a man who will put up with what he hates for something he needs.

Danny almost smiles. Almost. Dash is still a massive dick, but Danny hates him a little less than usual right now, if only because he isn’t trying to get with Jazz after all.

They fall silent, Dash returning to his work while Danny just sits there and thinks. He glances toward the stairs once, wondering what’s taking Jazz so long, but doesn’t totally mind it. Being alone with Dash isn’t as horrible as he thought it’d be.

He gets bored pretty damn quickly though.

“Okay, the glasses, you have to tell me,” Danny says.

Dash groans, closing his notebook. “They’re glasses. I wear them and stuff gets less blurry. Fascinating.”

“Yeah, but I mean!” Danny waves his arms in a meaningless gesture. “Since when do you have them?”

“Since I got them.”

“Oh my god, I hate you.”

“Feeling’s mutual.”

“I’d call you a sap, but I think you’d punch me for it,” Danny quips, unable to resist.

“I’d call you a loser, but it’s redundant.”

“I can’t believe you know what redundant means.”

Dash glares at Danny. Normally that look makes Danny nervous, because it’s usually followed by a punch to the got or some other, equally painful retribution, but right now Danny’s actually enjoying himself and Dash doesn’t look like he’s about to snap.

“Quick, write the word down before you forget it,” Danny says, tapping Dash’s notebook.

“Shut up, you moron.” Dash swats Danny’s hand with his pencil.

“Oh no, you’re backsliding. Write it fast.”

“Shut up!”

“Want some help? Here, r-e-t-”

“You are such a fucking idiot.”

Danny beams. “I’d call you an imbecile, but I think that’d be cruel since you probably can’t spell it.”

“I swear to god, Fenton.”

“Hey, don’t be mean to my brother!”

Danny ducks his head to hide the shit-eating grin on his face as Jazz returns. She’s glaring at Dash, who sputters as he tries to defend himself, and Danny silently vows to join them for tomorrow’s study session, too, if this is what it’s going to be like.

[curious-minx]

Denis Leary is making an animated vignette series based on Dogs Playing Poker and 10 Other Pieces of Kitsch Art That Should Be Turned Into TV

KITSCH auction house tremors and stampedes.

Dennis Leary basically discovered sex, drugs and rock n’ roll with his 2015 two season FX series Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll. Leary’s always been one of those guys that can’t be beaten down  in spite of how dopey and cynical his edgy working class personal brand is. He’s got an entire deal set up with Fox, the flailing broadcasting company has placed all of their chips on a Denis with only one lousy  “N” in his name. I can’t even with this fake Irish Bostonian droid. Relish in the delicate thought process of Leary and leftover former Daily Show producer, Jim Margolis,  bringing up a Pinterest screen grab of the Dogs Playing Poker by Grand Master of Kitsch Cassius Marcellus Coolidge and money signs popping out of both of their heads. Here is a dramatic retelling of this thought process:

“Yo, get this Big D,” salivates the recently fired from Netflix Jim Margolis to Leary over a Zoom, “Fox got this Bento Box Animation Studio sitting around doing nothing but churning out animated interstitials for the Masked Singer, Paradise PD, The Prince, The Blues Brothers animated series, animated Harold And Kumar, Housebroken, The Great North, and ugh..um..Hoops..”

“I fuckin love Hoops, Jimmy! Why aren’t we pitching this on Netflix again?”

“Because Dogs Playing Poker is going to work so much better as pregame filler for live Sporting Events...on Fox.”

“Oh yeah. All of those rotten good for nothing grease monkey and lunch pail people will probably be giving each other Budweiser flavored Covid at the local saloon with these damn dog pictures hanging up. It’s like when old drunks would stay out late and watch the Flinstones at the bar, did you know that actual human male adults would sit in a town like Boston and waste away in a bar watching Flintsones. Can you believe that Johny?”

“My name is Jimmy, err Jim, but yeah Denis we’ll send you the scripts over. Any idea who we should cast?”

“Get me the hot blonde from Inspector Gadget 2, God dammit I miss Louie..are we sure we can’t get Louie back on air?”

“Afraid after Patton Oswalt dognapped his role from him in Secret Life of Pets, Louie CK has been banned from ever appearing as a talking dog again.”

“So bogus. Bobby Kelly will have to do.” Denis gets a text. “Dammit, Adam is getting all thirsty for this juicy  delicious bone. Gotta throw a ��big bone to my dog Ferrera. Who else?”

“Ok. I’ll get one of those sad Daily Show losers. Um picking one at random, Roy Wood Jr. They’ll pretty much jump into anything, because John Oliver was in Love Guru they start thinking they can fail their way up.”

“I said no politics at the table! Paws off the table! This is going to be so fucking lit!”

////

Kitsch Art deserves so much more. George Lucas, retired American filmmaker, robber baron of childhoods and all around  mensch has been heavily invested in the kitsch art of Norman Rockwell. There are a bounty of stories to tell. Too many of them are far too white and basic, but there are rich narratives to be found in his out of date even for his own time romanticism of The Old Masters. Hopelessly out of date could have been a failing of Rockwell, but his politics grew progressive as his career went on and fought against the system. Cassius Marcellus Coolidge is the man that operated the first bank in Antwerp, New York  had the astronaut-like grace to wonder, “what if dogs played poker like people played poker?” A painting that dates back to 1894 used as means to sell cigars. What strikes me most about this painting is that they aren’t wearing clothes, but I bet when you try to imagine the painting you imagine these dogs fully decked out in some sort of work coat. There is a further anthropromized version of the ad called “His Station and Four Aces” that depicts a glimpse at a look at an entire canine furry society. His ideas of putting an animal in clothes remains to this day one of the most novel and surefire commercially friendly means of artistic expression. The original cynical man laughing all the way to the bank, his own bank that he founded to boot.

Seen above: An example of a Comic Foreground that also demonstrates the failings of having too few people in your party to properly partake in the comic foreground experience. 

“Cash” Cassius wasn’t the first man to imagine a domestic pet in people clothes, but he’s probably one of the few to do so with such commercial finesse. The man also at one point filed the patent on the “Comic Foregrounds,” which is the technical name of one of those carnival boards with holes to stick your head in. In post Covid times how many more heads will be salivating and rushing towards those holes to pop their heads in to create a lasting memory, if only for a second. So when I start learning more about this remarkable weirdo Cassius Coolidge, a man according to his official website dogsplayingpoker.com’s Biography: “Trying to chase mischievous boys from an abandoned house, he fell from a window and hurt his knee, leaving him injured for the rest of his life.”

Flash forward back to 2021 and Denis Leary and his career a man with a wikipedia with fun entries about all the accusations of plagiarism and hate speech against autism I start to worry about the legacy of more Kitsch art falling into the hands of other greedy and desperate TV executives. That being said if you are a greedy TV executive who happens to be a maniac that likes reading rando’s tumblr pages do I have a list for you!

TOP TEN PIECES OF KITSCH ART THAT SHOULD BE TURNED INTO SOME KIND OF SOMETHING

“We Are Having a Heavenly Time” Columbian Bike Monkey and Parakeet by, once again, Cassius Coolidge

Coolidge’s anthropomorphic foresight strikes again! This time he effortlessly establishes a captivating duo that could be easily voiced by an endless combination of celebrity voice actors. PAUL RUDD as “Monkey” and ISSA RAE as “Parakeet” present “We Are Having a Heavenly Time” present a travel show. You could basically use whatever leftover footage you have lying around from the many Conan O’Brien segments and plug Monkey and Parakeet and their trusty bicycle anywhere for an irreverent glimpse into the foreign World around us.

2. “Clown and The Girl” by Haddon Sundblom  

Now I know what you’re thinking, that title is miserable! I agree, but with a little  reverse engineering you get The Girl and Clown, which could be a whole new addition to the Girl on a Train, Girl with a Dragon Tattoo, Girl with a Dangly Earpiece, the Girl-Verse! The girl appears to be quite fearless of this clown, which is good because we need someone to be brave for when the clown takes off his mask.

Sundblom is also the original artist for the Coke a cola Santa Claus and how is it that we have gone this many rotations around the sun without a single Coke a cola Santa Claus special is the real reason why Christmas will always be the saddest time of year.

3. “Clean Your Fornasetti” based around the artistic Plate collection of Pierro Fornasetti 

Muk bangs, videos of people eating are a huge cyber traffic boom. People love watching people eat. Why not add the element of surprise by what kind of playful Fornasetti chanteuse is hiding underneath this plate full of gruel? Fornasetti is an artist with over 11,000 items created in his name and over 500 of them are based around a variety of expressions of a single woman. Clean Your Fornasetti is a deep and poetic rumination of the romance between the act of someone cleaning their plate and the reveal that the plate contained a visual feast all its own.

4. “Mickey’s Kinkade Playhouse” by the one and only Thomas Kinkade

The Kinkade Studios features over 63 “narrative panoramas” featuring Disney characters, but largely Mickey and Minnie, simply vibing. It’s time we stop pretending that small children like Mickey Mouse and market him for wistful older audiences that want to radiate in a nice long warm bath of color and sound. I am not sure I am even pitching an actual series but more of a Narrative Panoply. One thing that is missing from Disney Plus, and streaming services in general, is a severe lack of programming frills and flourishing. The iconic Adult Swim bumps are something completely lost to the dustbins of programming history left to remain in youtube compilations. Thomas Kinkade is a lot like Enya. Art critics treated him like a comedic punching bag for so long, but I doubt there’s an artist that grasps the kind of sterile enchantment people want after a long day of opioid benders. We’re all trapped inside doing puzzles why not do the bare minimum of slightly animating a pleasant scene of Mickey and Minnie roasting marshmallows or enjoying a breath of fresh Alpine air?

5. “Dust Lickers” by Odd Nerdrum

Quick! Get me Trash Humpers’ Harmony Korine on the Line Show him Shit Rock! The world of Odd Nerdrum is a harsh and primeval one that would make for an astonishing animated landscape. Odd Nerdrum himself feels like a worthy subject of some kind of documentary based around his imagery and insistence on making his art in the most arcane and old fashioned methods possible. Once again, maybe the visual world of Odd Nerdrum may not make for a full on narrative series, but once again would make for one hell of an animated segment.

6. “Homemade Pasta” by John Currin 

A cozy Queer slice of life cooking drama based around the two charming fellows of John Currin’s Homemade Pasta scene. A series of vignettes based around the completely unfabulous and domestic version of bliss that was denied many people as a result of the AIDS crisis. You can’t tell me you don’t see those two nice guys getting cozy and making pasta together and you aren’t dying to see how they go about rolling out their own focaccia bread.

7. “The Velvet Elvis” by the Collective Conscious 

David Lynch at one point in time was trying to crack into making his own Elvis biopic. I think it’s pretty safe to say that the age of a public wanting a David Lynch directed Elvis biopic has probably passed, but that does not stop Velvet art enthusiasts. TheVelvetStore.com is featuring a remarkable promo that could really bump up what a David Lynch Elvis movie could be like and the horror of having one’s soul trapped inside of a Velvet Elvis rendition painting seems like a pretty fertile place to begin a proper story about Elvis in America. 

8. “Big Eye Bunch” by Margaret Keane 

Yes, it was only a matter of time before Ms. Big Eyes herself, Queen of Kitsch, Margaret Keane would come up on a list like this. Tim Burton tried and sort of kind of captured what it so endearing about Keane’s work, but I think a fully animated dive into an orphanage full of sad Big Eye kids that time travel and meet other Big Eyed children version of historical figures is a Big Idea that could make a whole new generation keen on Keane.

9. “Banality” by Jeff Koons

An animated series based around the artistic sensibilities of Jeff Koons would be a tricky affair, but just the kind of gaudy whimsy that someone like Michel Gondrey could use to proper effect. A series based around someone trying to steal the fifteen million dollar Michael Jackson statue would also be appropriate.

10. “Groovenians reboot” by Kenny Scharf

Scharf is the only artist on this list that actually was a kitsch artist that caught the attention of early aughts adult swim. A tv show that only features the artistic sensibilities of Scharf but also a voice acting cast that consisted of Paul Reubens, Rupaul, Vincent Gallo, and Dennis Hopper. There’s also a theme song performed by the B-52s and musical direction by Devo’s Mark Mothersbaugh. One of the only known published reviews of the pilot describe the show as needing mind altering substances to enjoy and that it is essentially like “watching a cartoon reflected off of a funhouse mirror. This is basically a description of the modern tik tok addled twitchy type content that makes a killing on the Internet for millenial and zoomer types. Basically the whole aesthetic of a warped and broken looking cartoon is the exact sort of thing weirdos deep diving at youtube at four in the morning are looking for and seeing that this gets a failed pilot and Denis Leary’s Dog Poker vignettes get greenlit is exactly what’s wrong with the world.

[fairyshuuu]

wild valley pt5 | chanyeol

.summary. Park Chanyeol; sweat rolling down a naked back mixed with motor oil, you; white sugar sticking to your gums at sunset– ice cream flavored. Drugs, booze, money. He’s everything you’re not, the question is – for how long? .word count. 7.3k (i’ll keep it around 5k she says) .mechanic!au | gang!au | car shop!au. .pairing. chanyeol x reader .genre. angst, romance

.warnings. mature language, alluding to depression ♫ let me set the mood ♫

teaser.  part 1.  part 2.  part 3.  part 4.  part 5.  part 6.  part 7. (m)   part 8. (m)

He lets out a deep breath as he pushes his car into the next gear, and stares out the window on the long stretch of straight road that folds out in front of him. The gentle hum of the car in the silence of the falling day is soothing, lapping at his thoughts with fever. Long strips of clouds color shades of orange this far from the sun, walking on the line between night and day. His one hand is on the wheel, the other hanging out the window to feel the wind play between his fingers. It feels like it’s been so long, since he got the chance to go out on a drive, just burning fuel as his mind calms.

Now, alone in his journey to nowhere, he feels starving. Not in the physical sense, as much as the mental one. He’s needing— though what for is unclear in his mind. It’s always been like this for Chanyeol, his thoughts present but encrypted. He only knows what he doesn’t want, unable to articulate the jumbled mess in his mind as long as he’s floating in the familiarity of life. Days go by without thinking, sometimes. It shouldn’t be surprising that he prefers not to talk about himself, when everything is so muddled. How are other people supposed to know if he’s okay, when he doesn’t know it himself.

Luckily, driving has always alleviated some of the pressure. Watching the road slip underneath the car at the same steady pace brings peace to his mess, a quiet he’s not felt much over these last five years. He looks back at the road to follow the sway of it, lighting a path up the hills. The chill of coming night brings goosebumps to his exposed arms. The street lights flash by the window rhythmically. The car slows as he takes a breath, grabbing the wheel a bit tighter. He must be possessed driving up here, since last time he did he swore never to return.

But the night is cold and his thoughts are still, and when he parks along the side of the road, all feels right. Fate might be on his side for tonight, he thinks. As he opens the door, the last of the sunlight fades behind the ocean, letting the night swallow the earth. He gets out and locks the car behind him as he crosses the street, enjoying only the jingling of his keys as background music. The small patch of grass has gone through multiple cycles of death and rebirth, but it still looks the same since he last saw it. The stone bench is covered in writing, most of his faded or covered by now.

With a sigh he takes a seat, and lights a cigarette— watching the cloud twirl in the rising air. The city looks peaceful from up here, away from the noise and bustle of the garage, the parties, the memories. He used to come up here almost every other day before. Printed into his day like ink into the paper of a novel, mended to the very idea of it. However ironic, without words his days passed by and with them, the love for this place grew. It didn’t need to be said, his actions and touches loud enough to send a message to linger long after he delivered it. Hard, with slaps and punches and bruising kisses he would receive the answer, which always ended in yes.

Yes, I’ll be there with you. Yes, I’ll kiss here for you. If he held on long enough, yes, I’ll lay here with you. It didn’t need to be said. Coming here alone though— he realizes, that’s as far from familiarity as he can get. With his free hand he brushes his unstyled, white hair out of his eyes, and leans back to swallow the impending darkness that will follow if he keeps this going. Enough, he wills, brows pulling together. He feels the need to spit, getting rid of the sweetness sticking to the back of his teeth, though he doesn’t actually follow through. Instead it sits there, mellowing and melting to his greedy tongue.

As hard as he wills not to, sitting with the silence forces thoughts. It pulls at his conscience and drags him out of the shadows by his feet, unwilling to let go. He clenches his jaw as he stares out over the lights, chest moving and swelling and bulging with the weight of the giant muscle between his ribs, painful. Dragging in the smoke doesn’t provide enough, so he drops the half burned roll to the grass and digs it into the ground with his heel. His hand falls limply back in his lap, now having lost it’s function. And as he thinks, the words get louder and louder until he needs to tilt his head up to the sky because the city lights burn his eyes.

Peace for just long enough to make him lace his hands together over his stomach. Without meaning to, a distant sound kindles the small spark that flickers in the back of his mind, pulling it to become a full blown flame. The sound of a car speeding past over a distant road transforms into a giggle, female and while it doesn’t sound much alike, a shiver makes it’s way down his spine. Her laugh, as it echoed down the hill with the heat of a forest fire. Her dark hair clinging to her neck as they ruined their innocence completely, sweat dripping from their bodies and eyes filling with tears. 

And suddenly his joints ache, and his teeth crunch so hard that they could shatter under the pressure. For thoughts as heavy as these, should be coated with gasoline and sent up in flames, stewing in a pile until the sun evaporates each layer. They don’t belong in the world, and surely not in this small cage that is his body. He feels small— young in the wake of her, like a child being abandoned by the side of the road and it’s this that he hates most of all. His hands curl into fists automatically, eyes closing. Everyone needs to get out of his head. She needs out of his head.

The cooling air slips between his lips in small swallows, how long he sits in the void unclear. When he finally moves to light another smoke to soothe his eager taste, his bones seem to cackle in displeasure. But the coldness only does so little to soothe. He finishes a cigarette, and another one, disconnecting from the world as best he can, until his fingers are so cold that it gets hard to move. Reality calls— literally, when his phone interrupts the lingering silence that surrounds him, startling him. Chanyeol sighs deeply, before picking up and holding the object to his ear with his shoulder.

“Yes?” he breathes, volume low in the void.

“Hey, Yeol,” Sehun responds, sound of music muffled in the background. “You’ve- uh- you’ve been out for a while. I just wanted to check if you were alright, is all.” He clears his voice, and waits for an answer, and when it doesn’t come right away, “So— are you okay?” A voice sounds out in the pause of the call, from this or the other side Chanyeol is not sure. He takes a deep drag, having the nicotine fill every cell of his lungs, really drowning in it, before he lets out a hum.

“I’m okay. Always am,” he says. It stays quiet for a long while on Sehun’s side, before another voice sounds, this one definitely calling out to the blonde.

“You heading down soon then? It’s no fun here without you.”

Chanyeol smiles a little, unable to help it, and responds in agreement again. “I’m heading down. Though I highly doubt that.” No direct answer follows, so Chanyeol sighs. “I’m hanging up now, see you in a bit.”

“You got it. Drive safe, jackass.” Sehun’s laugh is loud when he hangs up the call, sinking the little bench in peace once again.

The large metal room is significantly colder than the summer shine that coats the piers. You let out a little noise of agreement as you wiggle closer, stretching your one leg over the free part of the couch, and rest your head comfortably sideways. Lou, who is sitting— or more so laying in the couch across from you, sends you a knowing smile and shakes his head left and right, before sipping from his vodka-redbull. A large hand makes soothing circles on your back, which makes you bite back a smile, instead pulling your lips between your teeth.

You can feel his gaze on you as you lay, and press your face to his thigh with a snort. “Stop looking at me~” your voice turns into a slight whine, unable to help it, “it’s embarrassing.” Baron chuckles, moving and while you can’t see him you only hope he looks away. From across the couch, Lou nods, his smile shifting into a slight grimace, and while you know he’s not serious the expression is insanely amusing.

“She’s right. It really is embarrassing, for all of us to sit through your lovey-dovey couple shit.” Before you can refute him, Yoonoh jerks his glass in your direction with a laugh, making the amber liquid spill over a little, dripping down the glass and his fingers. He licks it off, before continuing, unbothered. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at his typical Yoonoh behavior.

“It’s only that loser who is head over heals,” he has the smallest grin and points at the redhead as he talks, “shortie here is a baddie! She doesn’t want a boyfriend, I’ve heard. Such a player.”

You lift your head enough to glare at him, and send him the finger. “Who do you think I got it from?”

A bigger smile comes to his handsome face. “I’m the most loyal person here, baby. If you ever want a taste, you’ll have to wait your turn.” You definitely roll your eyes this time, but get rid of the glare as you regard him. Though you don’t believe a single word that comes out of his mouth, you have to admit that you’ve yet to see him bring a girl over. Of course, that doesn’t mean much in a world where people have sex to have sex and no attachments are needed. “What is your excuse for sleeping around, huh?” he grins, enjoying the flush that comes to your cheeks.

All the while, Baron’s hand travel comfortingly over your skin, thoroughly enjoying the conversation. He doesn’t seem to notice your flustered state, or if he does he doesn’t mind it. “You shouldn’t assume things like that, you dweeb!” Yoonoh chuckles a little. You look up to catch Baron’s eyes, scrunched up with the smile that rests there, as he brushes some of your hair out of your face.

“As if those hickeys on your neck got there by accident!” Yoonoh points out, his tongue brushing over his bottom lip as he points his free hand at you again. When your eyes widen, Baron chuckles a little, and peeks out his tongue. The other two boys stay quiet to watch your reaction, which morphs from surprise to understanding, and then to embarrassment.

With a big pout, you look up at the redhead, and wrap your fingers around his bicep. “You said you wouldn’t leave marks! You- you said no one would know,” you bite your bottom lip, watching his smile widen to a beaming giggle. Lou just snorts when you look away, hiding your flushed face entirely in the fabric of his black t-shirt. “I’m mortified. Bury me six feet under now,” you mumble.

“I’m sorry, shortie,” Baron leans in to run his hands though your hair, still laughing between breaths, “I thought you’d have noticed when you looked in the mirror. And I swear I didn’t do it on purpose, it was really an accident. If I wanted to mark you I would’ve done so the other two times too, right?” You look up to give him a light punch in the chest, before dropping your head back. His free hand slips under your top to drag soft figures into your skin, fingers warm on the surface of your back.

“But they’ve been there the entire day, Baron! That means my sister saw them, and she knows I don’t have a boyfriend.” At your sigh, you feel someone plop down into the couch next to you, lifting your legs to rest them over his own thighs, as he pats your calf.

“It’s not that big a deal, don’t worry. You’re hardly the only person who does things like this, the majority of adults in this city have or will at some point.” Yoonoh takes another sip of his drink, before picking out a cigarette and lighting it. You guess he’s right, but still your cheeks feel warm. You didn’t even notice, when you quickly tossed your hair up out of your face, and ran out the door to greet Baron. Which is slightly silly, you also realize, since you could’ve spent the night just as easily, instead of going home to meet up a few hours later.

From across the space, Lou crosses his arms over his chest. “So you guys aren’t together?” he asks, voice low and gravely. You know that he has a girlfriend too, though you’ve yet to meet her. She lives a few hours away, hence the delay. When you shake your head in response, he frowns. “Why not?” Baron’s hands still on your skin, clearly wondering the same thing. You never really gave him a reason after all. And while you shouldn’t have to, he’s a good person, and deserves one.

You push out your lips as you debate it, eventually shaking your head. These thoughts are ones better suited for a late night by yourself, blankets pulled over your face. Not when you’re hanging out with the only friends you’ve made here. “I- uh- I have my reasons,” you bring out, not looking at anyone in particular. “Reasons I don’t want to talk about right now, okay? Let’s not ruin the mood with my depressing inner demons.” Though he doesn’t say anything, Baron’s eyes are soft when he regards you, flicking between the features of his face. The heavy, metal door is pushed open to reveal the rest of your friends, streaming into their personal hideout with too much excitement.

“Hey guys, shortie!” Van says, glancing over in the direction of you four as he pushes past Jacob. “We’ve stacked up on beer for tonight.” He puts the two crates over by some of the empty ones, and looks over his shoulder. “What are your plans for the rest of the week? I need you to keep Wednesday evening free.” Lou frowns, but shrugs, indicating that he didn’t have any plans for the week to come. Van continues as he straightens up and walks over. “We have a job to do, and I can’t have half of you running off making other plans. That goes for you too, Heejun!”

You lift yourself from Baron’s embrace enough to sit up somewhat straight, and pull your eyebrows together in question. “What kind of ‘job’?”

At this, Yoonoh flicks your calf, and grins at you. “Aren’t you a nosy, little monster?” When you put out your tongue at him, he smiles, but goes serious soon after. “It’s nothing you should worry your pretty head about, sugar.” He nods at the oldest then. “You can count on me, I’ll keep time open.” Some of the others lose themselves in conversation as they join on the other couches, enjoying the mixture of alcohols on the table.

When you look around the group, no one seems much surprised at the mention of doing a job, which makes you settle down. Their casual response is somewhat less ominous than the thoughts you are having. Though you’ve spent way too much hours with these boys in the last month or so, you don’t actually know that much about them. You don’t even know what makes them the money they need to survive. Baron lays his arm across your shoulder to pull you a little closer to him, where you gladly melt into his side. He brushes his thumb over your cheek, before smiling softly. “If you want I could take you? We’d be going on a bit of a drive, us two.”

Though the words are clearly only meant for you, Yoonoh catches them. He frowns for a long while, before giving the older a little shove. It surprises you, so much so that you startle out of the embrace. “Baron, are you crazy?” he says, quiet enough not to disturb the conversation of the other guys. You look over at him, but he just gives Yoonoh a round-eyed look, lips pulling into a line.

“What?” the older eventually says, squeezing your arm gently. You take that as an invitation to come back to him, and settle against him once again. “She can handle herself, Yoonoh. I was just making a suggestion in the first place. It’s up to her.”

“Don’t bring her into our mess,” the other finishes, downing the last of his drink and plopping it on the table without another word.

You frown, since this is the first time you’ve ever seen anyone of the boys argue. “Will you two stop talking about me like I’m not here, please.” Yoonoh shakes his head but gets up from the couch without a word, and walks away. You look over at the redhead again, to send him a questioning look. It’s not like Yoonoh to react this way. He’s the one who normally makes fun of everything and everyone. “What kind of drive?” He doesn’t respond right away, instead staring across the room at nothing in particular. “Baron?”

Your gentle call seems to snap him out of his thoughts, because he turns to you to brush a thumb over your cheek and send you a calming smile. “Never mind. I’ll take you on a drive some other time.” He leans over to the table then, and picks out a cigarette from the cutely packaged, pastel box. 

Chanyeol stares blankly at the ceiling, feeling his chest move up and down too quick. There’s a panic in his heart that hasn’t been there anymore since he was a young child, veins racing with an emotion he can’t just explain away. Chanyeol feels sick, hating the pressure between his lungs as he tries to take deep breaths. He mentally doesn’t have the brain capacity to process everything right now. The house feels cold, and for once Chanyeol feels like he could burst into tears right then and there.

As he turns his head to the side, the painful sight greets him again. A plain wall, an empty floor. Clean, for all purposes and despite this it feels unsettling. Because that’s where her suitcase used to be. Dara’s suitcase has been there ever since the first weekend they spent together, her never having the energy to clean it and him never wanting the sight to change. It was her way of allowing him in, her little door into her soul. But without a word, he woke up and it was gone. All of her stuff, her pictures, her sweater that used to lay on top of the closet for months vanished. Like she’d never been there at all.

Phone number discontinued. Chanyeol feels dizzy thinking about it, as he stares at the dent in the wall she made one night in a drunken haze. It’s been two days, and he can’t help but think that Dara wouldn’t do this. His Dara wouldn’t just up and leave. But as he thinks it over again and again, he knows full well that she would and it’s this that brings tears to his eyes. The butterfly he so carefully nurtured suddenly flying away with a warmer breeze.

And he feels angry, he does, but it’s overshadowed by the deep and complete self-hatred and the knowledge that if he would have done more, said more— she might have stayed. If he would have been more, she would have stayed. If he would have kissed her better even when she punched him so hard he felt out of breath, if he would have told her he loved her more even when she spit venom at his face, she would have stayed. And he feels guilty, because he promised her he’d save from the pit she was drowning in. He hoped she would save him too.

Baekhyun is gone, having to drive halfway across the country for business and leaving him alone in the process. She left not much after. As he rolls out of bed, a stinging is tangible in the air, cold with the knowledge that he failed. The longer he mulls it over, the more unbelievable it feels that she’d just leave. No, impossible in fact, she couldn’t just have left him. They were good, they were happy. They had their issues but they were happy, and that has always been what mattered. Dara wouldn’t leave, which means something must have happened to her.

He looks around his room for his phone, having discarded it carelessly after calling for hours last night. He picks it up. No missed calls. That’s alright, he convinces himself, focusing on finding another number. “Hello?” he sighs into the receiver, not willing to waste any time. Baekhyun hums on the other side, the sound of his car engine in the background. “Have you seen Dara?”

“No. Why are you asking me if I’ve seen your girlfriend? I’ve been gone for two days.” So has she, he wants to say, though he doesn’t. He just runs a hand through his hair.

“I’m not trying to play around, Byun. You haven’t heard anything from her either, the last couple of days?”

Baekhyun leaves his playful tone for a more serious one. “No, I haven’t.” She could have gone on a sudden trip, and forgot to tell him. Maybe he wasn’t listening well enough. “Chanyeol, are you okay? What’s going on, why are you asking me about her?” Doesn’t matter that Baekhyun hasn’t heard of her, one of the guys would have. She wouldn’t just straight up vanish, she just wouldn’t do that, he convinces himself.

They’ve been together for long enough now, he knows her. “Nothing is okay until I find her,” he mumbles, disconnecting the call to search his contacts for Jongin instead. “She didn’t leave me. She wouldn’t.”

For once, the garage isn’t overflowing with noise. It’s quite calm, despite the fact that almost everyone is here. They’ve all seemed to mutually keep quiet and focus, and he can’t lie, it’s a whole lot more productive this way. As he lies down on the creeper and scoots under the lifted car, someone starts whistling a cheerful melody in the back. He grabs hold of the heavy, metal pipe hanging halfway loose, and starts unscrewing the other bolt holding it in place. The exhaustion pipe is terribly old, and makes a racket any time you drive the car anywhere. He carefully catches the pole, and cleans some of the excess black oil from the threaded bores, and rolls from underneath the car again.

With the same dirty, grey rag he cleans off his hands, before getting up from the floor and putting the rusted pipe aside to replace it with a new one. The door opening catches his attention for a second only, before he turns back to his work. The guys have been stepping out all day to take breaks from the physically straining work that they’ve been enduring. But as he stares down at the new exhaustion pipe, a penny falls. He snaps his head back over to the door and leans back to get a proper look. Sure enough, your face is the one that greets him, though you’re not looking over in his direction.

Baekhyun taps the glass of his office excitedly to greet you, and waves you over. “Hey, sugar cakes! What are you doing here?” Chanyeol watches as the man who came with you loops his arm around the small of your back, clearly aware of the amount of other men gathered in the garage. He vaguely remembers him, though from what he’s not sure. One of the many parties thrown by Exo over the last few weeks, most likely. As Baekhyun talks, you get a small smile on your lips, and Chanyeol has to wonder when you two got so friendly.

But Baekhyun is a social butterfly as colorful as they come, so it’s not really to anyone’s surprise. You giggle, softly— but it sounds loud in the silence between the metal clashes that Jongin is creating from under his own car. “I heard you guys do tattoos. I didn’t know if I had to make a reservation or anything, so I just decided to come over. If you’re busy-” Before you can finish your sentence, Baekhyun hops out of his chair, excited to have something to do besides paperwork, and walks over to you with a cheeky smile.

“You’re getting a tattoo?” He surveys you, before tutting his lips. “I have to say, I didn’t pick you for one to get all interested in body modification.” All the while, Chanyeol has been staring at all of you, only looking away when he realizes. Though his eyes slide to his hands, he can’t help but hear the rest of the conversation. “Did you lose a bet with your boyfriend? Or is he just the one who got you into it?”

“Oh,” you mumble, laughing a little, “he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Sure he’s not,” Baekhyun allows, before clapping his hands, “Jongdae is free right now, you don’t need to make a reservation.” He stays quiet for a few seconds for dramatic effect, before continuing. “But I’m busy so I can’t take you around, sadly. Chanyeol, come show our customers to Jongdae’s lair, please.” At the call of his name, Chanyeol physically feels his stomach turn. He’s never been awkward in just about any situation, but there’s a flusteredness to his actions when he looks over, feeling caught. Baekhyun looks very proud of himself.

The stranger to your side is the first to look over, politely smiling at him. Chanyeol feels the urge to roll his eyes at the situation, both at Baekhyun who so clearly is trying to annoy him, and at the attitude of the other. When he walks over, cleaning his hands on his overalls the best he can, you just look at your feet. He swallows, before sighing. “Right,” he mumbles, taking his sweet time taking you in from head to toe. It’s been a long couple of days without seeing you.

You look different, he notes. He still remembers seeing you for the first time— in your plaid, baby blue dress and a healthy flush to last a lifetime. You’ve exchanged the bright colors for a deep red top and a black skirt now, both not covering enough, with glossy lips and the longest eyelashes he’s ever seen on a person. “Follow me.” As he leads you two past some cars under the amused gaze of Baekhyun, you don’t make eye contact with him once. It’s strange, because he half expects you to burst out into your excited monologue any second.

You don’t. When he looks over his shoulder, you’re looking around at the other guys and even send Jongin a wave, but he can’t get a look out of you. He should have expected this, asked for it multiple times too, but now it’s happening it doesn’t feel completely right. He leads you and your friend up the stairs to Jongdae’s tattoo parlor, holding the door open. You look up at him once as you pass through the door, but look away just as quickly, instead grabbing hold of the hand of the redhead by your side, leaning into him slightly.

Jongdae’s gaze travels from Chanyeol, to you, to the man next to you and then back to Chanyeol again. Though he doesn’t voice the question, it’s readable on his face. The tallest sighs, crossing his arms over his chest as the door falls shut behind him. “Y/N is here for a tattoo. I trust you are free right now?” At the mention of your name, Jongdae’s eyes now glide over you again, taking you in more carefully. He nods, before giving his signature kitten-like smile, and lifting his brow at his friend.

“So you’re the ice cream girl, huh?” You don’t reply with anything but a nod, as Chanyeol leans against the wall of the door. “Well, come up here and we’ll get you started with an idea.” He pats the chair in the middle of the room, turning to his desk to skim through the mountain of designs for some clean paper. You turn to the tall man to your side, and lift your shoulders.

“You know how I said I wasn’t nervous?” you smile, looking up at him as if in search of comfort. When he nods, you giggle. “It’s really catching it up with me now.” He brushes your hair out of your face, and squeezes your shoulder gently with his own smile.

“It’s not as big a deal as you’re making it out to be. It only hurts a little, and you’re not getting a huge piece so it’ll be done in no time.” Chanyeol holds the need to scoff. He’s surely ‘not your boyfriend’, that’s why he’s holding your hand. You nod at his words, and turn back to Jongdae, who is patiently waiting for you. When you hop onto the chair, an excited smile comes to your face, lighting up the room top to bottom. You really look shining when you’re happy, Chanyeol must admit, enjoying the way your joy spreads to others if they get close.

“Where are you planning on getting one?” Jongdae asks, professional as ever.

“I’m not sure,” you smile at him, and then glance at the other man quickly, who also pulls up his shoulders. “You’re the tattoo artist here, not me. I want to start some place that isn’t going to cripple me for days, if that’s possible.” Jongdae snorts as he listens, eyes turning into moons.

He nods. “Places with more fat or muscle covering the bone will hurt a lot less. Arms or thighs are good places to start, or on your lower back.” He hums then. “Even shoulder blades and neck are bearable in plain. I just wouldn’t recommend and hand or feet tattoos as a beginner, because those areas are very sensitive and you have to be very still.” You nod in understanding.

“Can I get one on the outside of my upper thigh,” you ask, “right here?”

When Jongdae nods, you smile again. “Sure you can. Do you have any idea of what you want?”

“I do.” You turn over your shoulder then, really giving Chanyeol your attention for the first time since stepping in and it’s slightly startling. You keep his eyes, and lift one brow at him, smiling softly. “We’ve found our way here now, Chanyeol. Thank you. You can get back to work.” He opens his mouth to respond, only to stop midway and chuckle softly. Right. You turn to the redhead then, ignoring his questioning glance over his shoulder to grab his hand. “You better be staying right here, Baron. I’m not going through this alone.”

“You got it, shortie.” Chanyeol can’t help but slam the door closed a little harder than necessary. 

For as much as he doesn’t like going out, he’s been doing a whole lot of it lately. He sighs and tightens the grip on his bottle, watching Sehun and Baekhyun amuse themselves greatly with some twins. He doesn’t know what is being said, but can make out enough on the girl’s faces to understand it’s not the most modest of conversations. The base of the music is loud enough to make his bones vibrate, the flashing neon lights morphing human bodies into a single moving mass with limbs sticking out left and right.

The sight makes him kind of uncomfortable, aware of the huge amount of people pressed into the average sized house, and also aware that he’s one of the only ones not participating, which pulls gazes. He moves past the people sucking face along the wall to squeeze past a group of very drunk girls, one of whom tries to cling to his arm. He’s moved before she even can, which leads her to stumble forward like a limp noodle. As he walks, he is able to make his way to a less crowded area, turning out to be the kitchen.

The counters are littered with tens of opened bottles of strong alcohol, some of them wet and all of them sticky. Though something stronger does sound nice, he’s been hungover too much lately, and decides to stick to beer for right now. Two people are sitting against the cabinets further along, curled up in a ball and sleeping on each other. He doesn’t give them a second thought, instead opening some of the cabinets to search for some food. It’s not polite, but he couldn’t care less, because he doesn’t even know who hosts this party.

He finds some dry cornflakes in one of the cabinets, and picks it out. As he stuffs his hand in the plastic bag, a smaller shape comes into the kitchen from the corner of his eye. It’s only when he turns that he notices it’s you, and you’re staring at him. You’re drunk, clear as day. Your eyes are round and dark and your bottom lip is jutted out into a half pout. When you don’t say anything to him right away, he just shrugs it off and continues eating, not wanting to be bothered by you.

It’s relatively quiet in the kitchen for a while, still surrounded with the loud buzzing of the music in the other room. The door does little to keep out the overwhelming noise. When you clear your voice, he looks over at you. “You’re the most mopey person I’ve ever met,” you mumble, gesturing your hand over to the plastic bag a couple of times to request it. “I’ve been so nice- been so nice to you and you always act like an asshole to me.” For some reason, your tired expression and slurred speech is somewhat endearing.

“You’re the most annoyingly happy person I’ve ever met,” Chanyeol responds, tossing the bag to you, where you almost drop it. “Do you ever realize that people might have their own things going on? Things that keep us from being happy?” You turn around to hoist yourself up onto the counters messily, and lean your head against the wall as you scoot back into a more comfortable position. You seem to think for a while, but eventually just blink twice.

“What on earth could be so bad that you can’t even manage a smile?” you mumble, stuffing some of the cornflakes in your mouth. You stay quiet as you eat, just closing your eyes for a bit. You too, must be happy to be out of the sweaty mess for a bit. When you open your eyes again, Chanyeol looks away from you, instead focusing on the cracks in the wall across from him. You sigh softly. “You’re breathing, you’re healthy. Isn’t that something to be happy about?” When he doesn’t respond, you hum to yourself, and tear open the bag a bit more to have better access. “Well, you might not think so. But that’s something to be happy about to me.”

Truth is, your words hit home. It’s something he’s been asking himself a lot recently, wondering if the clouds above his head are really as dark as he feels they are. But instead of saying that, he looks back over at you with a frown. Giving in to you would mean losing the fight, and he’s not willing to do that. “Are you always this talkative, or did you just see me and decide that I was going to be the one having to undergo your unending sunbeams?” Your blinking is slow, evidence of your exhaustion.

“No, you’ve made yourself clear last time. I’m not talking to you anymore.” You cross your arms over your chest stubbornly, looking at him from under your lashes. Chanyeol looks back, but shakes his head.

“Then what are we doing right now?” he mumbles, brows pulling together more.

You huff. “Not talking! I didn’t even say anything.”

A little chuckle slips between his lips. “Sure.” He could walk away, but the disadvantages of being in a messy room full of sweat outweigh those of being in here, so he keeps his feet planted. Your small shape is dressed in a tight dress that hikes very high up your legs, even exposing the tape of your freshly covered tattoo. He knows he shouldn’t, but can’t help but be aware of the amount of men that would jump to get a piece of you. As he watches you, you blink up at him and bite your bottom lip in thought. Yes, Chanyeol thinks, you’re too attractive to be sent out alone into a world so harsh. “Did you come here alone?” he asks, “where are your friends?”

He doesn’t mean to sound as harsh and scolding as he does, but you don’t seem to care either way. You just pull up your shoulders and look over at the closed door, as if you would spot them through it if you tried hard enough. “I don’t know.” Then you look back over at him, and pull your pretty lips into a tight line. “I lost them pretty much as soon as we entered.”

At this Chanyeol can’t hold a deep sigh, moving from his side of the room over to yours. It feels much like a peace offering, he thinks, since his guards don’t come down easily. You’re vulnerable right now though, and however badly he wants to ignore it, he can’t. He walks over, smoothing out the frown etched to his features as best he can. “Fine, come on,” he says, grabbing you under your arms to lift you from the counters and put you down on the floor. You’re pretty much a child right now, unable to fend for yourself.

You don’t hesitate to grab the his elbow as he starts walking, holding him back sightly with a gentle tug. “Where are we going?” you mumble.

“Outside. I’m not leaving you here alone.” He needs a smoke, and knows that the kind part of his heart wouldn’t let him live if he left you here for the wolves. When you open your mouth to respond, he quickly continues, not wanting to give you the wrong idea. “Not because I want to. You’d get into trouble if you walk around out there on your own.” You don’t confirm or deny anything, and so Chanyeol pulls open the door in hopes that you’ll follow him. You do. He walks to the crowd more easily this time, already having a person clinging to him. He makes it to the back door and tosses it open, relieved to get away from the loudness of the party again.

The back door leads to a little balcony, covered and with a railing to keep people from falling the one feet drop. Once outside, you let go, and lean your entire top half over the railing. Chanyeol leans his elbows there as well, watching you take deep breaths. Fresh air should do you some good. He stuffs his hand into his  pocket to pull out a lighter and a cigarette, and slides it between his lips. “So, your boyfriend just left you?” he starts, looking over his shoulder to keep an eye on you. When you frown in confusion, he runs a hand through his hair. “The redhead?”

‘Ah’, you mouth, cutely cocking your head to the side. the frown doesn’t leave your face. “He’s not my boyfriend. And he didn’t come out tonight. My other friend is picking me up in a bit.”

“He sure looks like he’s your boyfriend,” Chanyeol responds, looking out over the garden cast in only the moonlight. Grass sways softly in the slight breeze.

“He’s not,” you say, more sure now.

“Why not?”

“Because!” Your eyes get all sharp as you talk, ready to light him up in flames and he has to hold a smile because he sees much of himself in there, despite all of your differences. You two might not be as polar opposite as he first thought. You’re not done though, voice gaining volume the longer you speak. “If you have a boyfriend, you end up hating that person in the end. You start off in love, but it never lasts. I’ve seen it. And I don’t want to go through it myself, okay?” Chanyeol pauses, before holding his hands up in defeat, and looking away.

You run a hand through your hair, and pull out a pack of Camel from the small purse you have with you, dropping it back to the floor after. Without asking, you fish the lighter out of his hand and light one of the cigarettes, staring at it for a long while. It’s surprising even to him. “You smoke?”

You don’t bring it to your lips yet, instead mirroring his position to look out at the world. A small smile makes it’s way to your lips. “It’s something new too.” If the words are laced with eagerness or disappointment is hard to tell, maybe a mixture of both. “Baron smokes, I guess it kinda rubbed off on me,” you admit, glancing at him for just a bit, before bringing the burning stick to your lips. You handle it like it’s something tender, like you’re kissing the smoke. He looks away.

“It’s bad for your health, you know.”

You snort, the sound too loud in the quiet. “As if you’ve care. I’ve never seen you without a cigarette before.”

“Habits make the toughest enemies,” Chanyeol just says, nodding a little. The wind picks up, making goosebumps appear on the exposed skin of his arms. He imagines you must be cold. When he looks over at you, you’re resting your cheek in your hand, eyelids fluttering closed slowly. “Hey, don’t fall asleep now,” Chanyeol calls, watching as you flinch a little from being ready to drift off, “your friend is gonna be here any minute, and I’m not carrying you.”

You hum softly, and give him a small smile. “I’ve texted him. He’ll find me.” Right as you say that, the door behind you two opens, sound of music rushing back in and breaking the small bed of peace you’d woven for yourself.

“There you are! I’ve been walking around here for ten minutes trying to find you, shortie.” The man that stands in the doorway sounds familiar, making Chanyeol turn. You smile wide as you look over your shoulder, and run over quickly to give him a sideways hug.

“Finally. Everyone else has gone up in smoke, I wasn’t having fun anymore.” The man’s wide smile at you fades as he glances at the second figure. “It’s fine though, because Chanyeol was here to keep me company. Thank you.” Your gratitude falls on deaf ears, too busy figuring out the situation to care. Chanyeol clenches his jaw, frown back fully and to stay, this time.

“Yoonoh,” he says, voice low. You’re friends with Yoonoh. Of course you are.

“You guys know each other?” you ask, eyes flicking between the two men who stand tall above you. Your confused pout is back.

“Something like that,” Yoonoh just says, glaring at the other with lighting in his eyes.

hope you enjoyed this part as well! it’s pretty long, but i think it’s my favorite chapter because they are just so..ugh adorable together and dumb idiots who don’t know what they really need (spoiler: each other). thank you all for the messages and comments, i’ve been reading each and every one and i’m just so happy you’re liking the series.

tag list: i’ll probably not take anymore tags for right now, because the list is getting a little long ^^ thank you for all the love! Please remember to read everyone else’s stories as well, they’ve spent so much time and hard work crafting the rest of this universe!! All my lovelies: @ninibears-erigom @suhoerections @kimjongdaely @kyungseokie @kpop---scenarios @yeoldontknow @baekwell--tart @skjdln @strongpowerhope @i-dont-wanna-kokostop @brie02 @baby-hands-x-x-blr @baek-byunies  @shxrl4747 @lucymheng @byunfirstlady @chanyeolol @snowflakesandkisses @you-know-bts @puppykangie @kkpoptrashhh @im-a-special-bebe @joolsreads @i-dont-wanna-kokostop @yoongnysus @itsjustyvie

[finalcreacher]

Chapter Four - That Summer, And Many More

A/n - Hey folks! Back with a new chapter! :)

T/W: Internalized Queerphobia

It's good to note, for those that may be a little confused...the Reader has been and is reflecting back on memories from when they were younger. When they refer to being with Mike now, that's the present time. Almost 27 years after their first fight with It. if any of y'all have more questions, just throw them at me, and I'll try to respond quickly! :D

Previous Chapters:

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three

Word Count: 1,101

Summer went by very slowly that year. I had been grounded for what felt like the whole break, but in reality, had only spanned a total of two- and at the very most three- weeks. These weeks consisted of being constrained to my room, except for chores and mealtime.

Even Richie couldn't save me from the boredom that is house cleaning. He had stayed over once, but I had made the mistake of letting him sleep in my bed as I lay merely inches from him. Of course, my parents knew he was to stay the night, but it gave my mother quite the startle to see us. She didn't tell my father, thankfully, but had quickly ushered Richie out of the house(before breakfast, even). He wasn't allowed back for the remainder of my grounding.

Besides everything with Richie, not much happened that summer. We hung out with everyone at the barrens, and got too excited about comics- and sometimes, on days when it was too hot to go out, Richie and I would talk on the landline for an hour(or more).

It was the beginning of school that got exciting. Well, things weren't dull during fall, but it wasn't a good kind of excitement. My father had lost his job. He had been working as a salesman- a big corporate job that had him commuting two towns away every day for years and years prior, a position that gave very little time for vacations and time off, and just enough money to pay the bills and get food on the table.

It was a combination of things that got him fired. His commute(Derry was somewhat isolated, and two towns away was very far), for one. And that a new batch of much younger -and quicker- men had been employed that pushed out the need for those that had been there decades.

My mother, on the other hand, was a secretary, her job being much closer to Derry, and never had to commute very far, and was always on time for work. She still looked mighty well for her age, and in comparison to my father, was also younger. Her boss had surpassed middle-aged quite some time ago and didn't feel a need for one of them pretty young secretaries(as many other greedy companies appeared to employ at the time), as long as the ones he had did the job, and did it well(as she always had).

Her job didn't pay nearly as well as my father's, though. Which left our family in a predicament. My father found it increasingly difficult to find a replacement for his previous career, after working at the company for nearly thirty years(he had started sometime after college). After a good long month without any luck, he figured in the meantime we could move to a smaller place(albeit this meant living on the outskirts of town, near the farming district. If not to relieve my mother of the strain having the only job gave her, then to buy us time till my father could figure out a stable place for himself.

By the time October rolled in, we had moved into a quaint, yellowed house, with two small bedrooms, a little kitchen that opened into the dining room, a bathroom, and a living room. It wasn't bad, but given how tiny the house was compared to our old one, well, I didn't appreciate much of the enclosed feeling that it gave me- instead, I had an excuse to get out more. To explore, I suppose(though at nearly fourteen years of age, I had explored almost every inch of Derry- except the sewers, they always felt too haunted when you walked by them).

Our house fell between where the overlooked pavement of the road met with gravelly-dirt that led- in a mile or less- to the Hanlon's sheep farm. I had never interacted with any of the Hanlon's but had quite often seen young Mike(later I would come to find he was actually older than me) riding his bike into town carrying parcels of sheep's meat. However, he wasn't enrolled in Derry's middle school, so besides his weekly ride, I never saw him. I wondered what else he did besides work.

Despite my father still appearing very bitter from the start of school dilemma, he thought it would be great to introduce ourselves to the neighborhood. In more proper terms, though, my mother did, and my father begrudgingly agreed. My memory of moving was much brighter than when or where(or perhaps why) I had met Mike Hanlon.

I do remember he had this certain glow to him. Unlike Richie or Eddie, he was so calm and so polite. Not that Bill and Stanley weren't, they were quite well-spoken, save for Bill's stutter. There was something to him that I, in my 13-year-old mind, couldn't help but feel attracted to. Not physically, not then, at least. But I knew we were destined to be friends.

Later in the years, Mikey would always tell me that it was all apart of defeating it, in a way, that brought us together. I might tell him it's bullshit, and he'll laugh it off, and give me one of his signature smiles.

We just always got along, no matter what. We gave a reason for one another to smile every day. At the beginning of that school year, it's what we needed from each other. Things with Richie were ever complicated, and coming home to Mike- who had just finished his ride into town- waiting for me on the porch steps...it felt good to be relaxed around someone.

Mike had the daily task of trying his very hardest to escape from Bowers and his goons, and the rest of the racist bigots in our town(the Bowers gang was the worst of it though). For him to know, I'd be there every day to say hello, to talk, to accept him as he is- well, he enjoyed it. Mike reminds me every other day or so. It can be hard now, without the rest of the Losers, but we carry on.

Those first few months were crucial to us. I told him shortly after we moved, that I was something not so well. And Mike only looked at me and took my hands in his, "I'll be with you no matter what."

He was one of the only promises that were kept throughout the years. While the Losers Club(which hadn't formed by now), eventually disbanded years later, but we stuck. Mike, lovingly- jokingly- says I'm his glue. I could never disagree with that.

Tag List (Just ask to be added or removed!):

@cutie-memers

[celestianstars]

Protector

Viktor Drago x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff

inspired by an anon that asked @dragothishole what Viktor would do if Ludmilla was talking shit about him and his s/o got tired of hearing it and slapped her like she deserves.

As soon as I read that ask I was like...yo I neeeed to write this so i hope y’all enjoy it ily!!!

——————————————————————————

Your blood was boiling and she hadn’t even been in the room for more than a few minutes.

You tried to focus on Viktor, wondering what this must be like for him.

He didn’t talk about his mother very much but since starting a relationship with you, he told you about how she left him and Ivan when he was kid and then again when he lost against Creed and sure, you’d never met her before but you already hated her.

You were more angry about it than he was which he understood, you were gonna have issues with any person that hurt him.

While he still sometimes struggled with how he felt about her and everything she had done to his family, he could really care less about her. After she left the second time around he decided he was done with her and any thoughts of having some sort of relationship with her, he wanted nothing to do with her.

It’s not that he’d let it go and was down to forgive her, he knew Ludmilla was vile and cruel but he just refused to let her have any affect on him anymore and would try to keep healing from the wounds her absence had left little by little.

You weren’t even sure why she was here, showing up completely uninvited to one of his fights. You figured she was trying to weasel her way into his life now that he was doing fights in America and was being recognized more by the boxing world but you were also aware of what she had been saying about him in the past year since the fight with Adonis and you couldn’t think about it very hard because it made you angry.

The fight had finished, giving Viktor another win and now she had made her grand entrance in one of the private rooms of the stadium, Ivan looking startled and uncomfortable and Viktor, expressionless as the wrappings on his fists were being taken off.

“Кто она такая?” (Who is she?) Ludmilla gestured to you, asking Viktor. Your Russian wasn’t the absolute best but he’d been teaching you and you were also learning on your own and could understand pretty well.

“His girlfriend.” you state immediately after she asked, your arms crossed over your chest, glaring at her.

“Oh! You speak Russian, very good! Nice to meet you.” she smiled as sweetly as possible and held out her hand but you turned your back and walked over to where Viktor was.

No way you were getting her evil energy on you.

Ivan spoke up after a second of terribly awkward silence, asking her what she was doing here.

“I wanted to congratulate Viktor on his win tonight but to remind him not to get comfortable. You still lost against Creed and he owns the heavyweight title. That’s what you want, Viktor, you shouldn’t be his friend, it’s weak of you.” she addressed him again and you swore you could feel your blood pressure go up.

Adonis and Viktor had been in contact since the fight and from what you saw it was a really good thing for both of them.

They both understood what it was like to live with their father’s legacy on their shoulders as well as being impacted directly by the night their father’s had gotten in the ring. Viktor found some comfort there, using Adonis’ support to help get him through losing that fight and to try and repair his relationship with Ivan.

Of course she’d think it was weak of him, it was clear she only saw him as a means to get more money and status and wouldn’t ever acknowledge the damage she did to him or Ivan.

“I don’t need to prove anything to you. I get bigger fights now, more recognition, I’m doing fine.” Viktor shrugged, icing his knuckles now.

You smirked at his response, proud that he was showing her that he wasn’t gonna play this game with her.

Ivan wasn’t about to say a single word, he was so far out of his comfort zone with this entire situation and while he definitely had something he could say in his son’s defense, when it came to Ludmilla, it was only harder to communicate.

“You don’t need to prove anything? Глупый! (Stupid!) You owe it to our country to be what your father failed miserably to be. They still drag your family through the dirt, it’s no wonder I had to take Drago out of my name! You will always be just a loser, a failure!” she snapped back, obviously not liking his nonchalant attitude towards her.

You on the other hand were another story.

You tried to keep yourself busy, wiping down Viktor’s chest with a towel since he was still sweaty from the fight, and making sure ice got applied to the areas on his face that were starting to swell.

You tried really hard to just let her say her bullshit and leave but each second she stood there and talked down to him and called him names you inched closer to snapping.

“How dare you call him a failure! He doesn’t owe anyone or any country a thing! It was fucked up for them to make Ivan leave Russia in the first place, it was fucked up for YOU to leave him and your OWN CHILD too but you’re actually gonna stand there and tell him that he’ll always be seen as a loser if he doesn’t do what you say? You’re wrong on so many levels!” you weren’t shouting but your voice was definitely elevated a little and your tone was full of spite.

The audacity she had to come in here and speak to your baby that way was beyond you and nobody was calling her out for literally abandoning her family so you were taking it upon yourself to do that.

“You have no business speaking to me of what’s right or wrong! Viktor, your choice of women is a disaster, why not someone famous….and with money.” she raised an eyebrow at you, looking you up and down.

“Maybe it’s because I’m not a greedy snake who’s only with him for how much money he could potentially make. I love him and would never leave him, like you left him, doesn’t matter whether he wins or loses!” you felt your fists clench at your side before his large hand covered them, trying to calm you.

“Alright, enough.You need to leave, Ludmilla. Disrespect me all you want but don’t drag her into this.” Viktor’s tone was stern, commanding even, his hand leaving yours for a second to gesture at the door.

He greatly appreciated your urge to defend him and call her out on her shit but he also didn’t want you to waste your energy on her because he certainly wasn’t.

He felt his anger rise when she had come after you because protecting you was like an instinct to him but he knew he had to tell her to leave at this point, nothing was going to be fixed this way and it was only agitating everyone.

“You’re a complete waste of a fighter! Ты позорный!” (You’re disgraceful!) she just kept talking and talking.

You weren’t sure how to even process this, she kept trash talking him and his abilities as a fighter and then connecting that to how Ivan was also weak in her eyes and you were nearly becoming homicidal from anger.

Tired of hearing her, you walked up to her and got in her face, telling her to leave like she’d already politely been told to do, not in the least bit intimidated by how tall she was at this point.

Not that it stopped her from continuing to run her mouth, she wasn’t going to take you seriously and you knew that.

“Viktor you’re the greatest disappointment to me…” she disregarded your presence and addressed him again but she didn’t have time to get another word out because the next thing you knew, your palm was connecting with her face.

You weren’t sure if it was an accumulation of all the trash talking or that specific thing that made you snap but there was no holding it in anymore.

You put all the force you could muster into that slap, satisfied with how she stumbled back and looked at you in shock.

“Do you even fucking hear yourself? He’s a disappointment? You have NO idea how much of an amazing person he is! I can’t believe you can stand here and not be begging for his forgiveness for abandoning him but instead you degrade him…” you were definitely shouting now, stalking towards her, making her move backwards as you continued to rip into her with your words.

Both Viktor and Ivan weren’t sure what had even happened for a second it all went down so quick but the sound of your hand meeting her face was sickeningly audible throughout the entire room.

Viktor had never seen you get this angry before, he’d seen you angry, but not like this, this was coming from someplace deep.

Just like it was an instinct to protect you, it was also yours to protect him and he admired your fierce defense of him, though at this particular moment, he knew he needed to take you out of the room because he wasn’t sure if Ludmilla would hit you back or do something else and he was ready for things to simmer down so he could go home with you and forget about this.

You were inches away from her now as her back hit one of the walls, happy at how shocked she still looked but not backing down from yelling at her some more.

“You don’t even deserve his time of day, he’s sweet and caring and the hardest working person I know and...Viktor stop no no! Put me down!” you felt your feet leaving the floor, a pair of familiar arms sweeping your legs out from underneath you, keeping you anchored against his chest with his other arm wrapped around your waist.

You kept screaming at her even as he carried you to the hallway outside the room, thrashing against him, trying to get out of his grip but against his size it was pointless.

“Put me the fuck down, Viktor! I wasn’t done with her, she can’t say those things to you! Viktor please!” you kept struggling against him even as he set you down, his body pressing into yours to keep you from running back into the room.

“Hey, easy, easy, calm down. I know you’re upset but listen to me, Y/N.” he tried to get you to look him in the eyes but you were pushing against his chest, trying to get him to move because fuck this entire situation, you were so angry.

“No! She doesn’t get to talk to you like that and get away with it! She doesn’t know you like I do and I can’t fucking stand her insulting you when you’ve done nothing to deserve being treated like that!” you stammered, still trying to move out from under the grip he had on you but your efforts weren’t getting you very far.

He really was a wall of solid muscle and as much as you loved that, right now all you were seeing was red.

“Shh shh I know, you’re right, you have every reason to be angry but right now I need you to calm down baby.” he cupped your chin and gently made you look up at him, your body finally giving up on fighting him.

You took a few deep breaths and nodded, knowing that you had just made a really big scene and weren’t thinking with a clear head right now.

“I don’t feel bad for hitting her but I’m sorry if that put you in a weird position, I just...I love you so much and I can’t just sit there and not defend you.” you sighed, relaxing against his hands.

He didn’t say anything for a second and when you looked up again you saw a little smile on his face.

“I don’t think you should feel bad either. It’s ok, I promise. Thank you for caring about me so much.” he pressed his forehead against yours, softly whispering that he loved you too.

A few more minutes were spent like that, Viktor wanting to be sure that you knew that while yes she deserved it, he didn’t want you to pay her any more attention because she wasn’t worth it and you eventually listened to reason, seeing his perspective.

Ludmilla finally emerged from the room, not daring to look at either of you as she stormed away, her face still visibly red which made you smirk.

You hoped she remembered that for a long time and would think twice the next time she wanted to trash talk.

Ivan followed shortly after her, feeling a mix of things from the conversation he had with her just seconds ago.

Things would probably never fully heal between them but he finally managed to say some things to her that he always wanted to say.

He wouldn’t admit this to either of you but he was glad that Viktor had someone who cared about him so deeply and you served as an example for him to be a better person to his son.

———

You watched Viktor get changed back in the locker room, laughing to yourself a little.

“What?” he questioned curiously, swinging his gym bag over his shoulder as both of you made your exit.

“Um...gosh this may be awful of me to say but...how’d my form look when I hit her? You think I could have a promising career in bitch slapping?” you burst into giggles, covering your face because of how red you were getting.

He didn’t know what he was expecting you to say but it wasn’t that and he couldn’t stop himself from laughing either, the deep rumble of his voice filling the hallways as you made your way out of the stadium.

“Oh for sure, you’re deadly. I bet you have mean right hook too.” he shook his head and the two of you kept laughing about it the entire way home.

You had your protector by your side and he had his, forever grateful that you showed him how much you loved him and believed in him on the daily and forever making it a point to reciprocate that love back to you as often as he could.

______________________________________________

Tags: @chaneajoyyy @dragothishole @themyscxiras @champagnesugamama

@dc41896 @dramaqueenamby @amirra88 @queen-of-the-jabari @fumbling-fanfics @tellybabes @endless00paradise @harduy

[spiltscribbles]

Notes: I am a soft ball of fluff who also loves these two to bits! 

A reblog saves a life<3

~*~

.-

“Hurry up, hurry up,” Stiles bucks up his hips, sliding greedy hands under the waistband of Derek’s briefs.

“You ever wonder if the romance in our relationship is lost?” Derek snorts, nibbling on Stiles’s collar bone, across his jaw and finally landing with a searing kiss onto his lips.

“Mmm,” Stiles flips him over so that Derek’s writhing underneath him. “Dude we have four kids under five! No time for romance between frantic hand jobs.”

“Freya’ll be six next month,” Derek points out, peppering kisses all over Stiles’s face.

“Fine, we’ll have a really romantical, slow bone session right after we clean up all the cake and ice-cream from her party. But right now, I can barely remember the last time our dicks touched.”

“Two weeks, nine days, and three hours ago.”

Stiles leers, “Bro I don’t know whether to be flattered that you’re counting down the hours till we fuck, or be concerned the my man is obviously thinking about me every second of the day instead of focusing on  his actual, very dangerous job.”

“One,” Derek pulls Stiles back underneath him—always having enjoyed the push and pull of their relationship, the way neither of them let the other have anything easy. Always poking and prodding and forcing each other to do better. To be better. “I’m your husband, not your dude, or bro or any of the other colorful nicknames you like to use, pretending you’re some douchey, snapback wearing frat kid getting drunk off his ass in some lame  party.”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t have been that douche in another life…You know one vacant of wolves and hunters and all that shit.”

“Two,” Derek continues as if Stiles hadn’t even spoken, grinding down into him and reveling in the little, gasps of groans that he lets out at the contact. “We’re doing much more than fucking, don’t ya think?”

“Oo, ah ah yeah, yeah definitely,” Stiles almost squeaks out. “But we’re not going to be doing anything if you don’t shut the hell up.”

“My have the tables turned.”

“Ass face,” Stiles latches their lips together with a fervor that Derek feels in his bones—making his toes curl and his dick shoot up in excitement. “Hello my old friend,” Stiles simpers before wrapping it with one of is large hands.

“It—huh—It hasn’t been that long.”

“Says the guy who’s been counting down the hours,” Stiles gifs another savage tug—using some of Derek’s pre-cum to rub up and down his shaft. Derek swears he sees light while he’s frantically smacking down on their night table, in search of some proper lube. That is until…

A bloodcurdling  screech bursts through their baby monitor.

Derek collapses onto Stiles’s shoulder in defeat.

“Jesus Christ!”  

“God fucking damn it!”

They freeze there for a moment more, Matty’s cries growing ever louder.

“One of us must’ve been a mass murderer in past life and that’s why Karma’s being such a bitch,” Stiles says, slowly pealing himself off of Derek and throwing on the nearest pair of boxers he could find.

“Oh I’m sure,” Derek reasons.  “Though I put my money on it being  you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say sour wolf.”

“Touché, you want baby duty or going down stairs to make the bottle?”

“Fuck, we didn’t bring one up?”

“Ah no, we were—erm, otherwise compromised.” Derek suddenly remembers much of the same actions taking place last night, but rather than a fitful baby that haunted their plans, it was a very fear ridden Freya, who had watched a scary clip on Youtube with some school friends earlier that day. And then him and Stiles had another argument over not sending her to a private  school and were angry at each other until this morning, when Derek agreed that he was acting a bit hot headed, and Stiles offered to talk with her teacher—which then lead to heated kisses and the bright prospect of finally getting off.

A prospect which never came into fruition.

“Right, well I’ll grab Matty,—he always likes your bottles more, for some reason.”

“What can I say,” Stiles sniffs. “I have magical hands.”

Derek licks his lips on a swallow. “Don’t remind me.”

.-

“Shhh baby, c’mon Matthew. c’mon you’re okay,” Derek croons, rocking him into his arms. “You wanna hear a lullaby? Huh? Yeah kiddo?”

“Derek! Derek!” Stiles clammers into the nursery, hair askew and shirt boxers slung dangerously  low on his narrow hips. “”s broken! His bottle! ‘s broke!”

Half dazed from a serious lack of sleep, not enough coffee, and the worst tease of his fucking life, Derek plucks out the  aforementioned bottle right from Stiles’s death grip.

“Ah Stiles—You didn’t even screw on the nipple?” Derek points out, rattling it in his face.

“Is it bad if you saying the word nipple is really making my pants tight?” Stiles ponders out loud,  biting into the nail of his thumb.

“Well considering your referring to the utensil our child needs to use to eat with, and that your not even wearing pants right now-“

“Does it take effort being such a dry witted ass hole so early in the morning?”

“You forgot functional. I’m a functional  dry witted asshole. Unlike you evidently.”

“Hey! I’m functional!” Stiles argues, to which Derek just gives a pointed look to his disheveled mop of hair, and bare chest speckled with dried milk that spilled out when he must’ve been shaking the bottle without properly sealing it’s lid. Stiles’s face goes a very fetching scarlet, and Derek very much feels the ache of their lack of, well…erm, private time, yet again. With Carson and Freya starting the school year, and the twins beginning teething—well it’s all been way too hectic, and something had to give way eventually…Derek just mourns that it had to be their sex life. “Hey! Don’t you dare use those judgmental eyebrows on me pretty boy!”

Derek’s eyes go owlish before meeting Stiles’s glower. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Yuh huh,” Stiles snorts unconvinced, taking Matthew out of Derek’s embrace, and tucking him into his own chest. “Well I’ll have ya know big guy that back in college,  I spent many a days fueled purely on Starbucks refills and sugar highs that these munchkins would salivate over.”

“Is that right,” Derek drawls, eyes flickering to the mural Isaac had painted on the wall of the twin’s room—a family tree where each branch has an emblem dangling off it’s tip—symbolizing the most important people in their lives.. Derek feels a rush of pure elation when spotting the Hale triskelion up on top. It’s so right and perfect, and never in a million years did Derek think he could have this. A set of friends and family who truly loves him, and who he trusts and adores implicitly. A partner that snarks at him at every turn, but also makes Derek’s knees go weak, and his heart swell with affection. Hell, never did Derek ever think of himself as being the fathering type—but with Stiles, it all just feels natural, definitely not easy (Especially when Carson’s favorite blanket is in the wash and he refuses to go anywhere without it, or when Freya brings in some new critter she’s caught outside in a sudden save every animal and bring it back home with me kick.) but it all feels right. Like Derek’s not screwing up completely.

“Yeah, well that and your vigorous love making of course,” Stiles clutches a hand over his heart, and flutters his lashes like he’s in a fucking mascara advert.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” Stiles straightens up, hitching a now fast asleep Matthew into a more comfortable position. “But I’m also right. I use to be the king of doing shit without even a blink of sleep.”

“You know Stiles, it doesn’t bother me that you’ve become less spry in your old age.”

“Fucker.”

“Not in front of the children, they’ll be up soon for school.”

Stiles’s face lights up at that, n almost kitty gleam pixilated in his eyes. “They are, aren’t they?”

“ah, yuh…That’s what I just said?”

“M’kay! Me and you got bout the same amount of sleep last night, right?”  

“Sure, I think?”

“Well I know for da both of us. So let’s prove who’s actually the spry one in this little  relationship of ours”

“Oh?” Derek perks up at the sound of that, moving up to settle a hand on Stiles’s hip—his eyes going dark. “And how do you suppose we do that?”

“Definitely not in the way you’re thinking,” Stiles sucks in a breath   when  Derek begins to  ravish his neck with a fresh batch of kisses.

Derek deflates at the clarification. “I don’t think anything else really interests me.”

“Don’t be such a sour wolf.” Stiles chides, cuffing Derek on the back of the head. “Me and you should have a competition.”

Derek kinks up one of his brows. “See who can get Carson or Freya ready for school first?”

Stiles’s grin goes devious. “Winner gets head.”

“Loser?”

“Oh Derek, babe there are no losers in this game.”

“I’ve got Freya,” Derek calls, striding to her room, knowing full and well how difficult Carson could be in the mornings—probably because he stays up way past his bedtime without ever being caught.

“Succor, her favorite dress ’s in the laundry.”

“Fuck.”

.

-

“C’mon princess,” Derek coaxes with a slight jostle  to the frilly dress, trying to make its sparkles catch in the light. “This one ’s just as good as the red one.”

“No ’s not,” Freya sniffs with an imperious tilt of her little head, arms crossed and weight slung onto her left hip. (If Derek is being at all honest, he thinks she might turn out being an exact replica of Erica, and that scares him shitless— his best friend is a force that Derek hasn’t the slightest clue how to restrain.) “I want the red won!”

“I know you do baby girl,” Derek squats down to level her with a look. “But sometimes we don’t always get what we want.”

“”m the star of the week! I’m s’pose to be  the bestest dresser in the class! “s the rules.”

Somehow, Derek seriously doubts that the teacher had ever referred to the student’s way of dress being at all related to being line leader and snack maker, but he plays along anyhow, because damn it straight to hell,  if his girl wants to look the bestest, she damn will.

“Baby girl, I promise this dress’ll still make you the bestest dressed in the class.”

“Aunty Lydia picked the red won out for me,” Freya sniffs, beginning to eye the pink one in Derek’s grasp—much in the same way that Stiles always assesses something right before giving in.

Speak of the devil…

The door to Freya’s room pops open, a beaming Stiles swaggering in. “Morning buttercup,” he crows with a kiss to her forehead.

“Papa I don’t have my red dress,” Freya explains to him the dilemma at hand, her big, pale eyes peering up at him mirthlessly.

“Oh shoot sunflower, ’s in the laundry, isn’t it?”

Freya nods solemnly, which is about the time Stiles’s facade breaks, and he looks like he’d do anything to salvage her hopes of wearing that particular dress to class today.

“Freya, gorgeous, what bout while I go downstairs and start frosting the cupcakes you and daddy made last night, you could face time Aunty Lyds and pick out a brand new dress. You know, with her sealed approval?”

Freya’s whole face lights up, and Derek is left marveling at how collected Stiles could be under such a crisis—one with a lot less blood and gore than back in their heyday—but still, a crisis all the same.

.-

“You’re kinda smart, you know that?” Derek lightly  hip checks him as the pair cross the threshold from Freya’s room, the sound of her and Lydia joyously speaking in rapid tongue French over Freya’s new dress dilemma, left in their wake.

“I felt guilty,” Stiles shrugs. “You know that bitch Caitlin Snow would’ve teased her mercilessly if our baby girl was looking all upset over such a little thing.”

“Isn’t Caitlin like five?”

“Yeah, and her mom ’s the piranha who was trying to flirt you up last week when you had to pick the kids up cause I was running late at the paper…Your point?”

Derek shakes his head with a chuckle. “I take it that things are going smoothly with Carse if you had time to come peak us a visit.”

“Oh totally,” Stiles preens. “Carson is like basically ready.”

Queue a very lively Carson bounding through the hall—pantsless and a fresh pair of underwear proudly perched on his head.

Derek kinks up  a brow at Stiles.

“Okay…So I may’ve exasperated a tad,” he shrugs.

“Papa! Daddy! Look! I’m Captain of the world! I kill monsters just like you guys!”

“C’mon Carse,” Stiles calls out, his face going pained. “I said only five more minutes of play before you have to start actually getting dressed.”

“Die you  flesh eating alien!”

“A little bit?” Derek snorts, to which Stiles just waves a hand over his face and mouths, “It’s the eyebrows of doom.”

“You’re impossible.”

“But you’ll still Finnish up with him while I go frost the cupcakes for Freya like I promised? Thanks beautiful, Imma love you up real good later.” Like the whirlwind he is, Stiles pecks a chased kiss onto Derek’s lips and leaps downstairs to their kitchen— because they’re full grown adults now, who have a house with multiple floors and children, and a fucking breakfast nook— before Derek could even comprehend what he had just said.

“Papa’s got u whipped daddy,” Carson laughs maniacally, all the more insane looking with the conspicuous  vacancy  of his two front teeth.

“I’m monitoring anything you watch from here on out,” is all Derek remarks, a long suffering sigh and knowing full and well that Carson hit the nail on the head.

“Do I still have to go to school then?” Carson’s eyes go owlish, and Derek swears by the Angel that Stiles’s been teaching him the art of wrapping Derek around his littlest finger, on the sly. (Well that, or Derek is just a big old succor for his family.)

“Sorry kiddo, but all signs point to yes.”

Carson deflates. “Can I still keep on my Captain of the World suit?”

Derek’s eyes flicker up to the underwear on his son’s head. “Are they clean?”

“Yes, yes I double checked!” Carson squawks gleefully.

“Well then, I see no problem  with that, as long as you got on a fresh pair underneath your pants too.”

“Yes! Thanks daddy!”

Just as soon as the door to Carson’s room clacks shut, a fresh looking Freya steps out of the bathroom—Mouth smelling minty, and her long curls still damp from the night before.

“Daddy?”

“Hey there princess,” Derek hoists her up into his arms, brushing away a stray lock from her heart shaped face. “You had a good talk with aunt Lydia?”

“Yeah, she picked out  anew dress and even shoes, and Uncle Jackson told me how ta put on one of the pretty tattoos he bought me for my birthday.”

“That’s great baby girl!”

“But there’s only one thing daddy.”

“What’s that?”

A moment passes before Freya pulls out a bright brush from her nightgown’s pocket. “Can you give me a princess braid?”

.-

Fifteen minutes, a pair of dressed kids, a very deformed french braid, and a set of permanently woken up twins for the day, later, and the whole family has congregated around their kitchen table.

“Derek we got anymore apple juice?” Stiles shouts from where he’s making his patent, pancake and egg to go sandwiches. Freya’s biting into a cherry tomato before setting it on Marie’s fork, who in turn just pounds her tiny fists into her yogurt in delight, Matty’s munching on his bottle, probably going to be the only one to adopt Derek’s calm demeanor in the whole bunch, but that doesn’t really bother him considering that Stiles’s nonstop chatter is one of the things he finds most endearing about him.

“We’ll need to go to the market this afternoon,” Derek notes before pouring Carson a glass in his favorite, sparkling Ninja Turtle cup, and recycling the emptied bottle afterwards.

“dad, dad! Look!” Carson tugs on Derek’s hand, flailing around an obviously hand drawn picture.

“What’s that little man?”

“’s a chinchilla! Did you know that they sleep in the day time, just like uncle Isaac says he’s gotta do because he’s an artist.”

“is that right?” Derek silently hands Stiles a couple of apples to put in the kids’ lunch bags.

“Yuh! And they only eat grass and can shed their skin like snakes and have huge families just like ours!”

“That’s insane. You think they have brothers and sisters  too?”

“Definitely!” Carson crows, practically jumping up and down. “And this one even has a Uncle Boyd who shows him neat card tricks and an an Aunty Allison who shows’m how to shoot a bow and arrow real good!” Derek idly wonders if Carson’s teacher just thinks he has a hyperactive imagination, or if she just thinks his kid is completely insane. “Do you like it daddy!”

“Yeah Carse,” Derek gives him a blinding grin, genuine to a fault. “I love it.”

“Really?” Carson preens.

“Of course sport.”

“You think Grandpa and Grandma Hale would’ve been proud of  it?”

For a second, Derek’s heart clenches, and he’s back to lonely days and fear ridden nights and the smell of smoke clung onto his very skin. He’s back to thinking he’d never be able to be good enough to ever deserve a family, not after what he’d done. Not after his world crumbled to ash and his heart sunk into itself.

But no.

Derek knows that it wasn’t his fault. Knows that he was a fifteen year old kid who’d fallen right into the trap a woman twice his age had set. He knows now that he never deserved the way he once upon a time use to shelter himself from all the world had to offer because of his fear and guilt and despair. Derek knows that now after years of therapy and assurances from his pack— his family— and especially subsequent countless late night talks with Stiles before they had adopted Freya from a teenage werewolf who wasn’t ready to be a mother.

Derek knows that Carson didn’t mean anything behind the statement, that he and all his siblings know just how much Derek and Stiles and all of their family adores them to bits and pieces, but that doesn’t stop Derek from swinging Carson into his arms, an giving him a slobbering kiss on his cheek.

“ew, gross daddy.”

“I know Grandma and Grandpa Hale would’ve loved this kiddo,”,” he speaks with conviction. “C’mon, help me hang this up on  the fridge with Freya’s spelling test.”

.-

“You sure you can drop’m off to my dad’s  on your way to the precinct?”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine if I’m a little late this morning.” Derek chastises, buckling Marie into her carseat, who just gives a little huff of annoyance when his hair is replaced with one of her rattles.

“Alright, alright, I’ll see ya tonight then,” a dopey kind of smile melts into Stiles’s face, right before kissing Derek—one a little more languid that the last, and Derek is appreciative for it. “Your parents would’ve been so proud  of the man you’ve become, just so you know,” Stiles gingerly sweeps a thumb over Derek’s cheek, a small smile tugging on the ends of his lips.

Derek has no idea how to adequately reply, so opts to just kiss him again—hoping it comes across just how much it means to him that Stiles always knows what to say, and how much Derek loves him—that is  until the kids start pounding against the windows to hurry them up.

“Hey wait!” Derek calls out to Stiles, who’s about to swing into the Volvo. “Who lost?”

“Like I said hot stuff,” Stiles leers. “There are no losers in this game!”

Derek thinks he’s a lot a bit in love with him.

.-

Scott and Allison offer to babysit that entire weekend, and Derek is sure  he’s never been so thankful when a very cocky, and very naked Stiles gets down on his knees for Derek the first time in months, and thinks that Stiles feels very much the same if his yells and commands for Derek to go faster already are anything to go by.

[dummy-draws]

Updated Linus reference sheet! 

(Written bio under the cut part)

GENERAL INFO: 

NAME: Linus  (Old name is impossible for humans to pronounce) GENDER: Male AGE: Unknown, but appears to be an adult SPECIES: An unknown species of humanoid aliens

APPEARANCE:

Linus has a deep purple skin all through out his body, except for his two tails, which are a lighter shade of purple. One tail is on his head and the other at the end of his spine like with many mammals. The bottom tail is very powerful and has bones in it, while the head tail doesn't. His head tail is able to split open from the tip.

He is missing one of his two arms, the left one being replaced with a robotic prosthetic arm with a built-in plasma cannon. He has four fingers on each hand and on his normal hand the fingers are pointy, but not sharp. His left arm can be detached from the rest of his body, which Linus does when he goes to sleep.

He wears a pair of Brown boots with lighter brown accents.

His eyes are bright blue and they can change their shape according to his expressions. He doesn't have ears or nose, but does have a mouth with light pink pointed teeth and a purple pointed tongue. He has small nose- and ear holes which cannot be seen.

COMBAT ABILITIES:

STRENGTHS:

Linus is very fast and agile, and is able to use his tails as extra limbs. His tail is very powerful, and he's able to cause the ground to shake with a strong enough slam. He has a built-in plasma cannon in his prosthetic arm, which can shoot a powerful plasma beam.

WEAKNESSES:

Linus's weak spot is his stomach, he'll get paralyzed for a moment if struck there. He's not a strategist, so he doesn't always have a great plan when he attacks. He can't see very well in the dark. If his arm is taken away he significantly more disadvantaged.

PERSONALITY:

In general Linus is an ok dude. He usually keeps his cool in most situations, but sometimes he can get very stubborn, and usually tries his best to reach his goals.

Linus can be rather harsh if he chooses to. He can give pretty snarky responses to others and generally is kind of talkative. He tries to be in good terms with everyone, but often that doesn't work out. If he doesn't like someone, he will try to avoid them at all costs. He's not the type of person to have fake friendships.

He's rather a rather proud person and can be a bit greedy at times. He also can be a jerk sometimes, but never towards his friends, who he wouldn't want to hurt in any way. He's very confident about himself and his abilities. He can get a bit cynical in some situations.

Despite his negative traits, Linus is very reliable. He never leaves a friend in trouble and may be even willing to give up his own safety for them if necessary. If someone dares to make fun of or hurt his friends, they will face his fury, as this is something that can make him very angry.

He is usually honest, sometimes even a bit too honest about his feeling and opinions towards others. He often doesn't think before talking, but he can keep a secret regardless. He usually acts happy and cool with everyone, but tends to have depressive periods now and then, when he becomes more quiet and easier to make upset or angry.

Linus likes action, but doesn't go out his way to search for it. If something happens, he's ready to get his hands dirty, as he is an excellent fighter. This make him a bit over confident at times, which can cost him in a fight with someone better than him. He isn't a sore loser, but will get embarrassed if he looses a battle.

THINGS HE LIKES:

The sound of rain, battle training, sweet foods, winning, proving others wrong, his boots

THINGS HE DISLIKES:

Spicy foods, hurting others by accident, thinking or talking about his past, people staring at him, government and authorities

BACKSTORY:

Linus was born and raised on a small, unknown planet somewhere in the Milky way galaxy. The planet was very similar to ours, capable of having life on it. One of the three dominant species on the planet was Linus's species, which were the most civilized one of the three as well. The creatures had advanced technologically far past of what we humans have at this point in time.

One day, Linus was walking home from the local store- like facility. Lately there had been uproars and protests against the government of the planet, which was rumored to plan a mass genocide of the population. The people was pretty much  split in two on ideals and opinions, some believed the rumors, some didn't at all. Things were getting very heated and everything was in danger to get out of control, and that day it escalated into more than just words. There was a protest group at an opening shouting at the passerbys, until suddenly the first fire of the civil war was opened by an opposing protest group. Linus, along with multiple other civilians was caught in between the crossfire and got hit by an explosion caused by one of the sides, causing him to fly off and hit his head, knocking him unconscious. When he came to, he was in a makeshift hospital in the sewer system of the city, made to assist any survivors of the attack as the nearest hospital- like facility got bombed down by the fighting sides. As he woke up he noticed his left arm missing and the remaining stub being wrapped in bandages. He was explained that he had lost his arm in the explosion... Later he was given a robotic prosthetic as a replacement.

Months passed and the population slowly shrunk due to the war that was going on, as people died either on the lines of the two fighting sides or in the crossfire. The government wouldn't do anything for some reason, perhaps they couldn't, perhaps they just... didn't want to do anything about it. Everyone who survived had to live underground to not get caught in the crossfire. Linus, along with some of his friends that had survived started to plan a way to escape the planet: One of them knew of an escape pod that had been developed at the planet's space research facility. With this rocket, they could escape the planet. They gathered a group and started to make their journey towards the facility. Along the way they lost a few of souls to explosions, but at last they made it to the facility. It being heavily guarded, they had to sneak their way in. They managed to sneak in and find the escape pod, but just as Linus stepped in to check it out, they were caught by guards. Having no time left, Linus's friends quickly closed the pod with Linus inside and send it off to space while they stayed behind to fight. Linus couldn't do anything as the small rocket launched into the air and flew off into the space. The technology being as advanced as it was, the rocket was extremely fast and managed to leave the planet in just minutes.

After a while of flying through the space and looking as his planet was only barely visible in the distance, Linus suddenly saw a big flash of light as the entire planet exploded in front of his eyes. The blast sent him flying even faster through the space, and he couldn't do anything but watch in horror as his home and everyone he loved got obliterated in front of his eyes.

After what seemed like days of grieving , he finally got himself together, not wanting to his friends' sacrifice go to waste and set his course to the closest planet that could bare life, which happened to be Earth.

Linus landed in the fields close to a small town. Weak and starving, he stumbled across a small cottage of a farmer, who despite being very surprised about the odd visitor, was pretty cool with letting him and offering him some food. Linus couldn't understand a word the farmer said and vice versa, but he understood that the farmer didn't really want to hurt him or anything. The farmer let Linus stay for a while, he lived alone and this would be an interesting experience. The farmer tried to teach Linus English, which he learned a couple of words. After a week or so Linus decided that it was time to leave, and the following night he sneaked out and ran off.

Linus lived in mostly forests for a good chunk of his life on Earth. One day as he wondered around he came across the small town he landed nearby. He decided to walk around and was confused to see staring at him. He didn't get it, and brushed it off, until police officers suddenly approached him. They asked him some questions, which Linus of course couldn't understand. They had thought that Linus was some guy in a costume, but since he was acting "suspiciously" They decided to as a couple of questions. Getting nervous, Linus suddenly ran off, which caused the policemen to chase him for a while, until Linus managed to lose them. Deciding that this wan't the best place for him he started to leave, until he heard a scream form somewhere. Running towards it, he witnessed store getting robbed and the robbers running off with the money. Linus understood what was going on and quickly ran after the robbers, quickly catching up with them and knocking them out with his tail. He went to return the money, but police was there waiting for him. They were going to arrest them, until witnesses told them what had happened. The policemen let Linus go for his quickly actions and he quickly returned the money to the store before leaving for the forest again.

Along the years he has learned to speak English almost perfectly, though he is still stumbling with some words. He adapted the name "Linus", since his old name was impossible to pronounce by humans. He has visited the same town many times now, most of the humans there just assume that he's some weird guy in a costume of something. Some know of his true nature, and have promised to stay quiet about it. Linus lately has decided to venture further, to visit some other towns or maybe even cities. Nowadays he just tries to live his life on this strange and sometimes hostile planet.

EXTRA INFO:

- Linus owns a silver locket with a carving of a strange symbol on it. He has carved it himself, and it appears to be a letter in his native language. It has something inside of it, but it is unknown what is in there.

- Linus's native language is impossible for humans to pronounce, and to our ears it sounds very weird.

- Linus takes his left arm off when going to sleep, because the art bothers him a little.

- He has PTSD caused by him losing his arm and that was worsened by witnessing his home getting destroyed.

- He's best buds with Tokko.

- Some expressions.

- His blood is pink/purple. 

[fillxsargeloverfan]

A Mystery Adventure Chapter 8

“Hey Tepig.” I said.”Yeah?” said Tepig.

“We need to hide!”

“Wha-?You want us to hide?” said Tepig.Without speaking a word,I pushed Tepig to the nearest rock I could find.”Woah!What’s the big idea,Ford?” said Tepig once we were behind the rock.

“I can’t explain but can you whisper please?”

“Huh?And now you want me to whisper?!Ok,fine,I’ll whisper.Seriously,what is going on?” said Tepig.I was about to answer when a very familiar Pokémon appeared.”…What?! That-that’s-!Gurdurr!Why is Gurdurr here?!” said Tepig.To find the answer,I listened to Gurdurr and Scraggy.”Sorry for the wait.” said Gurdurr.”Took ya long enough.I wanna get down to business,yo!” said Scraggy.

“Don’t be like that.I’ve gotta be careful to make sure I’m not followed either.It takes a lot of work to keep up this kinda scam,y’know?You haven’t lost your touch,though,huh?Still quite the skillful little thief.So…where’s the cash?

“Yeah,yeah…I’ve got what I promised you.Gettin’a little greedy, huh?”

“Hmph!Who are you calling greedy?Those blue gems will pay you back big time if you sell them in the west.Compared to that,the money you pay me is…like a drop in the bucket,eh?”

“Heh!Well,that’s true enough.Course I could just go into Stony Cave myself and get some,but…Well,it does get pretty dicey in there.Having you lend your particular expertise to that problem is…just plain expedient.Ain’t no other way about it.”

“I’m gonna have those two fools bring me some more gems.I’ll be counting on the usual amount when they do.”

“What!You’re gonna have ‘em get you even more?Those little losers?!”

“That’s right.After all,they’re still dumb enough to believe I’ll build them a house.At this rate,I’ll be able to send them after more gems for the rest of their lives.”

“You serious?!Dude,you’re cold! It’s their dream to build their own home,ain’t it?They’re gonna keep believing in that dream and just keep bringing you gems forever?Never knowing it won’t come true?Maaan.I think I could cry.Ain’t you got any heart left?”

“You want me to cry?Over something like that?Hah!You,the great Scraggy,who pulls off way meaner schemes in the west!”

“Well,you ain’t wrong there.” Scraggy laughs and so does Gurdurr.”You sneaky little-!!!” said Tepig as we make our way to them.”What?!You two!” said Gurdurr shocked.

“We followed Scraggy here!Gurdurr!Quite the convincing act you had us falling for,huh!”

“Yeah! Tepig and I give you our trust and you lied to us.Just like Bill did to me.” I said.”Hmph.Anyone who expects honesty in this world is a fool.That’s what you get for trusting me.Dream big and you lose big.It’s your own fault for getting tricked.” said Gurdurr.”You…you were tailing me?You mean you actually saw through my mad skills?I’m impressed,losers.But…whatcha think you’re gonna do now?You wanna fight?With the two of us?I’m warning you now,I’ve been tussling on the wrong side of the route my whole life.The battles I’ve lived through…well, little squirts like you couldn’t imagine.It’d be best for you to just toddle off home to your mamas,you hear?” said Scraggy.”No way!Bring it!” said Tepig.

“My,my,my.And even after I went to the trouble of warning you losers…” Scraggy said.”You don’t have a bit of sense between the two of you,do you?” Gurdurr said.

“Fine,then.Why don’t we just show you?We’ll show you what a big mistake you’re making!Let’s roll!” said Scraggy.I decided to give them a warning.”Don’t underestimate me! I took on a powerful demon once and I’m not joking.”

[dropdeaddivas]

a soft breeze blows around her, and she folds her arms across her chest in response to the slight change in temperature. a small sigh falls from her lips as she glances over to her mother, sobbing silently, and her younger sister - eyes heavy with a regret that she herself does not feel. she is sixteen and her step-father died in a meth lab fire, she doesn't know why she has to even be here in this situation. it's not like she appreciated the man or anything he did for them, which, in reality, was practically nothing. shifting her weight from one foot to the other, delilah just wanted to be out of this ordeal. the blonde doesn't know what to make of this pseudo-funeral. it's meant to be something in which they are planning on remembering the person they've lost, and well, she would be happier to forget. forget about the nights he snuck into her room to try and slip beneath the covers with her, or when he did meth on the coffee table in the living area, surrounded by his friends that were either far too old and coked out to pay attention to them, or seedy and young, giving them far too much attention altogether. the only requirement to her step-father was that they had the money to pay for the drugs he made and would share them accordingly. biting down on the inside of her cheek, she sighed. while the priest drolled on about his life and what he leaves behind, she ponders a question of her own. did he actually have a soul? everyone that was worth anything - with the exception of her mother and younger sister, who clung to him like they were in desperate need of attention. she didn't need to have his greedy fingers slip across her skin, shivering at the simple thought of such. they finished the service and she power walked all the way to her vehicle, leaving her grieving family behind to pay a "moment of respect". she couldn't stomach the idea of doing such. instead she started up the vehicle and blasted the radio for a few moments, trying to feel anything other than the semblance of bile in the back of her throat at anyone respecting a man like that. he didn't have a soul, she decided. it was unrealistic to think of him as anything other than a worthless shell of a human, moving on autopilot in a way that only a drug addict and typical loser should. when the remaining women of the family made their way into her respective vehicle, she turned down the radio and tried to pretend that she was more or less on the same level of sadness as either of them. it was nearly impossible. when they went to dinner she sat in silence and chewed her food, while her mother and sister drolled on about how they were going to miss him, like he didn't almost take out half a block of houses down the holler with his inability to do anything right. whoever told him that he'd be okay at cooking meth did her a favor by causing him to check out of this life early. she was thankful for that, but she couldn't simply share those feelings with anyone of worth in this current moment. a small sigh escaped her lips, and her mother looked up at her with a sadness that she could not muster. delilah couldn't wait to get out of there. when she got home, she kicked off her shoes and climbed into bed, pulling the covers up in front of her face. today was a day filled with regret, and she could only hope that tomorrow would be better. the remaining days of her life without that piece of garbage in her life could only be better, right?