#hell is not a place it’s a state of mind

[sapphira-mydnyte]

~Part 2~

Most thought it was Ominis to be feared since he was a Gaunt & the Gaunts were the darkest wizard family of all, but Ominis didn't radiate the cold chill of death like his family did most of the time. He only gave off that chill when upset, but he kept his temper under control & went with words to break his opponents. It wasn't Ominis that was to be feared, not after what happened to the Sallow twins... it was Sebastian. If there were warnings to be heeded, there were two for certain that the students agreed upon. The first was to never upset Ominis since his family was a huge threat to everyone, the second was to never try Sebastian's rage in a duel. Ominis was tame compared to Sebastian when he got mad & Sebastian's rage was unheard of ever since the day Anne got cursed.

Of all the students that participated in Crossed Wands, Sebastian was the most ferocious of them all. However, when it came to his sister, the mere mention of her name tempted his anger. Her name triggered the memory of that dark day she was stolen from him, bringing out a rage so strong that he radiated the cold chill of death... something that Ominis couldn't ignore, nor could anyone else. Sebastian's hatred burned when anybody said her name & although he aimed it at none within the castle since they weren't the ones who hurt her, that rage of his was certainly felt in the duels by those who faced him. He dealt far more damage than usual, knocking his opponents clear across the room, even with their shields up. There was no escaping the heat from his onslaught of using Incendio, Bombarda & especially Confringo for anybody around. The clock tower felt like a harsh summer day on those days when Sebastian was unhinged a bit, but it paled in comparison to what he turned into once he was actually around her.

Feldcroft was a battlefield on the outskirts with goblins, poachers, Ashwinders & wildlife roaming about. Every time Sebastian went home, it was fireworks for hours on end as goblins & dark wizards tried to raid the place. Sebastian didn't give a damn who it was, but the goblins were his most hated foes & when Anne just happened to have one of her intervals of extreme pain.... a goblin nearly ended her. Sebastian acted in time to save her & although true, he used an unforgivable curse, his rage went into a black-out state because she was in danger. He didn't care how long it took, nor how many foes he had to deal with, but when it came to his sister's life, nobody was taking her away from him. Her sickness was already doing just that & Sebastian hated it the most, even more-so than the one responsible for cursing her. He could take down dark wizards, witches & goblins easily, but that damning sickness was one foe that he hadn't found a weakness in for two years.

His mind & heart darkened with hatred after slaying the goblin that nearly ended Anne from his uncle kicking him out of the house. It didn't matter to Sebastian how he saved his sister, but the main thing was that she was alive. She had done nothing wrong to deserve being attacked, Sebastian knew that & as her brother, he defended her. Anne was innocent & Sebastian didn't care who thought what of him for how he saved her after that day. She was his sister & nobody was going to tell him how he should & shouldn't protect her. Unforgivable curses be damned, he'd use them if it meant she lived to see another day & that was a far better use of them than hurting innocent people like Ominis' family did. Sebastian didn't use the unforgivable curses without good reason & only if it was a need, but when it comes to Anne... hell hath no fury like he does when it comes protecting her.

Her sickness pushes Sebastian's instinct to protect beyond normal because it is from the Cruciatus curse that it was born from. It's something that shouldn't exist & yet, it does. That sickness, for as long as Anne suffers from its painful spikes, causes Sebastian's heart to break more & more by the day. That sickness isn't just stealing Anne, it's also stealing Sebastian as well & Anne sees it in him. Sebastian's heart lies with her & for her, he do anything to bring her out of the shadow of the sickness that has chained her in a dungeon of demise.

"She's MY sister!"

No One Protects Her Like I Do

[elllisaaa]

FEELING GOOD - ENHA HYUNG LINE

KINKTOBER DAY 22 - APHRODISIACS + GROUP SEX

SUMMARY : to celebrate the release of the new album of your friends, you decided to make them some cocktails. exept that they don't taste like they usually do, and when the fifth of you start to feel hot and bothered, you definitely understand that someone put something in your drinks.

-> pairing : heeseung x jay x jake x sunghoon x fem!reader

-> words count : 1k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : use of aphrodisiacs (obviously), group sex (5 people), some mxm shit (don't like it, don't read it), alcohol consumption, mention of drugs, making out, foreplay, ridding, dirty talk, fingering, dry humping, hair pulling, handjob

+ the way i'm depicting heeseung, jay, jake and sunghoon does not represent them, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | enha masterlist | kinktober 2024

Your special talent - if you could call it like that - was that you were extremely good at making drinks. You could probably have been a bartender if you hadn’t chosen to be a photographer. So you always ended up making drinks for your friends when there was something to celebrate or when you were at parties. And tonight wasn’t an exception as you had prepared a whole set of different cocktails to congratulate your friends for the release of their new album. It had become a tradition to spend the night together drinking, and sometimes smoking, so you were all pretty used to the quantity of alcohol you put in those drinks. Nothing could go wrong, right ?

Right ?

Except that only three cocktails in, you all felt like you were reaching the state you were in at the end of the night. And you knew it was bad when Sunghoon - who was always the most level-headed and the one with the highest alcohol tolerance - started to laugh about nothing and everything. And as time went on, you started to feel dizzy and most of all hot. Really hot. 

“- God, it’s so fucking hot in here…”

The fours guys laying on the couch with you grunted in approval, and Jay even stood up to go open one of the windows, hoping that the cold air of the night would cool you down. But it did nothing to help. The more cocktails you downed, the hotter you felt. And slowly, you realized that it wasn’t that the room was hot, it was that you were. Hot as in wet as hell. Hot as in Heeseung’s lips did not look that bad to kiss and make out right now. 

It all happened in blink of an eye, none of you really thinking too much about it or being conscious enough to process it, but the next thing you knew was that you were sitting on Jay’s lap, his tongue down your throat and Sunghoon’s chest pressed against your back, roaming his hands all over your body. As you detached yourself from him, you took in the scene taking place just by your side on that same couch : Jake literally licking into Heeseung’s mouth. 

“- Fuck…”

The three of you stayed there, as if hypnotized by the scenario unfolding in front of your eyes. You knew this was something that wouldn’t have happened if any of you were in your right state of mind, that there must have been something wrong with the mixing of your drinks, that you might’ve made them a little bit too strong, but you were already far too gone to care. The way Jake was whining in Heeseung’s mouth, and the way Heeseung was tugging on Jake’s hair was too arousing to stop looking. As they finally parted their lips, they looked out of it - pupils blown out with desire, heavily panting, and rock hard in their pants from what you could see. 

You were brought back to reality by the way Sunghoon landed his hands around your waist, letting one of his hands dip into your shorts and rub your clit over your panties. The friction sent a shockwave through your body, making you gasp and take a hold of Jay’s hair (who was currently devouring your neck). You felt very sensitive, more than usual, and the thrill coursing through your veins seemed different too - more intense, as if all your sensations had been multiplied. But it felt so good, and you weren’t conscious enough to want to inquire what was happening, simply letting Sunghoon push two of his fingers inside of you, moaning loudly right in Jay’s ears. The way you were barely moving on top of him to meet his friend’s hand offered him a little amount of friction that still felt incredibly good, his hands grabbing your ass roughly to make you rock your hips faster, forcing Sunghoon’s fingers deeper into you. And the way Jay made you move allowed Sunghoon’s bulge to rub against your ass too, his own grunts mixing with yours and Jay’s sounds. 

This whole concerto was what brought Jake and Heesung out of their frenzy, drool spilling from the corners of Jake’s mouth as they both took in the sinful view of what was happening on the other side of the couch. Sinful but so fucking hot that Jake couldn’t help but whine and buck up his hips in the air, desperate to feel more. He didn’t need more than to hear your high-pitched whimpers, to steal you away from his friends, pushing Heeseung away so you could sit on his lap instead. And with how embarrassingly wet you were, it was easy for him to slide right in, making the two of you moan in harmony at how good it felt to finally have something real. 

“- Fuck… You feel so good…”

You only whined in response, your whole mind absolutely blinded by the heat that had taken over your body. You didn’t waste time to start bouncing on top of Jake, his hands holding your ass and supporting your movements as the both of you uncontrollably moaned. You felt so hot, so responsive, it was like you could cum right this second, without too much effort. And Jake didn’t look like he would be able to last much longer either, if his high-pitched moans and his eyes rolling to the back of his head every time you dropped back down on his cock were any hints. 

And as Jake buried his face in between your breasts, you turned your head to the side to take a look at the three others guys, staring at the both of you with greedy, lustful looks on their faces. But what was even more appealing was the way they were all jerking each other off, without even realizing it. They looked so gone, and so fucking attractive like that. Heeseung cracked an eye open, panting loudly because of the fast rhythm of Sunghoon’s fists around his cock and he looked right at you. 

“- You’re next Hee…”

A smirk spread on his lips at your words, and as you came around Jake with a loud moan, you didn’t regret one bit putting aphrodisiacs in the drinks.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

enha taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@lala-----------lala @bbgnyx @rikiives @puppy-minnie @binniesbabygirl @lichyuu @foxinnie8 @hyunstxns @seomisaho @adirajackson @han-to-my-minho @dylanobr1ens @straytiny127

kinktober taglist (dm or comment to be added) :

@d-dilemma @bath1lda @leeknowinggg @anxiousskylar @mikaelless

[altacctforastarion]

The Orange Peel Theory

Astarion x reader, no pronouns, no y/n, no warnings for this one.

Crack fic treated seriously. It was supposed to be kind of angsty, but I made myself laugh so it’s really just fluffy humor now.

You’re not really a fan of the newspaper after your encounter with the people who distribute it trying to ruin your reputation, but the kid just looked so disappointed when you said no to buying one, and really it’s not expensive, so you go back and tell him you changed your mind, and he was so convincing and good at his job while you pay him and take it with you on your way back to Elfsong. The fight with Orin had left your group a little worse for wear, so the group unanimously agreed to take the day off.

It was early morning still, some fog still lingering in the eerily empty streets, and you really don’t like that the city is this quiet, despite hating how loud it usually is, but you needed supplies and with some healing potions and food in your pack you were happy to go back to the tavern and relax with the others. Or at least Astarion in your private room, though he may still be trancing when you return. You’d placed a note on your pillow, just in case he woke up and came looking to save you from some unknown danger with the others in tow. Though, your group half-asleep running around the town like lunatics does sound like an interesting morning, and you laugh to yourself just thinking about it.

When you get to your room Astarion is still trancing, and you throw away the note before climbing into bed with your newspaper, and after awhile you’re about to toss it to the side, sick of reading about nasty rumors written about people who obviously didn’t just sneak in and change the paper like you had, when something catches your eye.

It’s an article that explains “the orange peel theory” stating that if you ask a man to peel an orange for you and he doesn’t your relationship isn’t strong. You’re sure the article means well, maybe it’s even helped some people, but Astarion watches your back in battle, is rude to everyone but you, steals things to repair or replace with something better, and shows you every part of him. He doesn’t need to peel an orange for you to prove he loves you.

You laugh quietly, and put the newspaper off to the side before curling up in bed and getting more sleep. Usually you’d curl up with him, but you don’t want to wake him, so you keep your distance.

—

When you wake, curled up on your side facing Astarion, you’re met with him staring at you. You jump, surprised, but calm down quickly, this is normal for him, watching you sleep and not having the sense to move away when you start to wake up. What’s unusual though, is that he looks slightly afraid? You can’t really tell, not a happy look though.

“Astarion? What’s wrong?”

“I’d do anything for you.” He says, reaching for your hands, one of his holding both of yours.

“I- thank you?” You’ve no clue what he’s talking about. He’s acting so strange, you’ve never seen him this way before.

He finally stops his staring, getting out of bed and leaving the room. You sit up, confused and alarmed, thinking of following him but then you hear banging on the door to the room next of yours, where all of your companions are and decide to see where this goes.

“Astarion? Why are you-“ you hear Gale as he opens the door, and then some scrambling in the other room, along with some of your companions asking Astarion what in the hells he’s looking for, or just groaning as their sleep is interrupted. “Are you mad? You could have just knocked and asked, you know. Instead of whatever this is.”

“Shut up, Gale. I’m making a point.” You hear your partner growling out the words, and then he’s opening the door to your room again, with something in his hand.

“Astarion! Will you please tell me what all of this is about?” You demand answers, and maybe later you’ll demand he apologize to the rest of your companions, but for now you just need to know why he’s worked himself up this much.

He sits on the bed next to you, not answering and not looking at you, too focused on whatever he has in his hands.

Oh. He must of read the paper.

It’s an orange. And he’s peeling it, carefully, as if disarming a trap. You watch him wordlessly, as he’s slowly peeling this orange that’s caused so much havoc.

When he’s done, he delicately takes one of the pieces off the fruit and finally looks at you, as he starts moving the piece towards your face, “I’d peel an orange for you. You didn’t even have to ask. Now open your mouth.”

You don’t, that’s weird, all of this is weird, instead you reach up and take the piece of fruit and put it in your own mouth, chewing and swallowing, stopping his hands from getting you another piece.

“Thank you but this is entirely unnecessary, though I do appreciate it.”

“ I saw the article, and you weren’t lying with me when I woke up. Obviously you were upset I haven’t peeled any oranges for you, I apologize, now have another piece. Open your mouth, you don’t even have to do any work, just lay back and I’ll give you orange slices.”

“I bought the paper, I read it, I thought it was stupid- Astarion put the orange down or so help me- and then I went to sleep. I didn’t want to wake you so I kept my distance, and then I wake up to you assaulting Gale and trying to force feed me an orange. All caught up?”

“You didn’t go to sleep upset with me?” He asks, so open and vulnerable and sad that it hurts.

“No, and I don’t even like oranges that much. You’ve done a million things that show me you love me, including this disaster. I don’t need an orange.”

“Right then.” An awkward smile graces his lips, “So you don’t want this orange?”

“No, and never try to force feed me again, please.”

Once again he stands and leaves the room, and you just close your eyes and wait for his return this time, wondering how angry they’ll be about whatever he’s gone to do this time.

“Astarion, I’m not letting you in again, you’ve made a mess, and Lae’zel wants you dead. What do you want this time? An apple?” Gale is whispering, like he’s afraid of what will happen if he doesn’t, and you can barely make out what he’s saying.

“Darling! Would you like an apple?” He’s yelling, because he’s a lovely, kind man with no gods damned sense. You hear Lae’zel loudly curse him.

“No thank you.” You do not yell, because you do have sense.

“Then no, no apple. Here is this back, you all have a lovely day, especially you, my very angry, very close friend.” She growls out some more curses, but you don’t hear her drawing her sword, so you consider it a win.

“Astarion, I don’t want your orange.” Gale protests, but Astarion is already coming back to your room, locking the door behind him. He comes back to the bed, laying down and pulling you towards him.

You decide against scolding him, kissing him instead, and telling him that you’d do anything for him as well.

[grandpeachpersona]

It's A Man's World

Chapter 11 ☆Love☆

A/N: Writer's block is a bitch Warnings: Fluff, and a hell of a lot of tension, Friends to lovers Word count 1,954 As always feedback is appreciated ;)

It seems my ever-growing list of things to avoid is becoming quite overwhelming. Now, drinking has firmly secured its spot at the top of that list.

What I initially thought was just a case of being “a little tipsy” turned out to be a full-blown state of drunkenness. To complicate the situation even further, Joe made a surprise visit, and I have no recollection of the night we shared. 

I’m left grappling with the uneasy knot in my stomach, worried I might have done something foolish or embarrassing during those hazy moments.

As much as I yearn to sit down with him and unpack what happened, I’ve been engulfed in a barrage of press engagements since 9 a.m. this morning. When I slipped out earlier, Joe was still peacefully nestled in bed, oblivious to the whirlwind I had to face.

What truly stirs something deep within me is the knowledge that he chose to spend his bye-week here by my side. He could very well have returned to his sprawling mansion in Cincinnati, indulging in rest and relaxation before his next game. Yet, he opted for this intimate time with me, and that makes it incredibly difficult to mask my emotions. To the outside world, it may seem insignificant, but to me, it's everything—an affirmation of something I can no longer ignore.

If I could interview myself, I wouldn’t hesitate. All day long, the questions echoed around me: “How does this win feel?” or “What’s next for Miss MVP?” 

But finally, for the first time, I returned home to a sanctuary of silence—no camera flashes and no reporters jostling for a story. 

As I stepped into the apartment, a hush enveloped me, the only sound was the gentle clink of my keys as they fell onto the table by the door.

“Joe?” I called out, my voice breaking the stillness, but after a few seconds, there was only silence in reply.

Furrowing my brow in curiosity, I made my way to the guest room. The door stood ajar, but as I peered inside, it was empty. Where on earth could he be?

As I rounded the corner back into the kitchen, something caught my eye on the counter. Approaching it, I found a stunning bouquet of deep blue roses, their velvety petals catching the soft light, accompanied by a simple, elegant card.

“Get dressed, baby. I owe you a date.”

 – Joey B

Short, sweet, and to the point. Yep, that’s Joe all over again.

Glancing beneath the note, I spotted an address along with the time: 7 PM. A quick look at the clock on the stove revealed it was just past 5:00, plenty of time to transform into something special.

Before I dashed off to prepare, I opened the cabinet under the sink, retrieving a glass vase. I delicately arranged the flowers, their fragrance beginning to fill the air as I placed the vase front and center on the counter. 

A small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, fueled by the beauty of the blooms and the realization that this date was truly happening. Like, for real, for real. Please, don’t wake me up from this dream.

Breathe, Sierra. Breathe.

I repeated the mantra to myself for what felt like the hundredth time, each syllable echoing in the anxious corners of my mind. It’s just Joe—my best friend since college. I’ll be alright, won’t I?

“Girl, did you hear me?” Mia’s voice burst through the car speaker, shattering my spiral of thoughts like glass. 

“Yeah, I heard you,” I replied, even though her words had barely registered. “But—”

“Ain't no buts, Ri!” she interjected decisively, her tone firm yet comforting. “Just be yourself. It’s not like you’re going on a date with some complete stranger. You’ve got this, sis—trust me!” she encouraged, her warmth seeping through the phone and wrapping around me like a cozy blanket.

Nodding my head, I felt the weight of her support, even as I approached a red light. I leaned back against the plush seat, closing my eyes briefly as I took a deep breath that filled my lungs with a slight hint of lavender air freshener. “Yeah… Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I murmured to myself, a hesitant determination lacing my voice.

As I pulled up to the restaurant, I was in awe of its impressive exterior. The Amber Room—slightly amusing in name, as it sounds more like a strip club than a dining establishment—made me chuckle to myself.

I shook my head, reminding myself to focus. This better not be a strip club, especially given the part of town I was in. As my grandma would say, “Nothing but rich folk out here.”

Taking a deep breath, I repeated the words in my head: just be yourself, just be yourself. Once I felt ready, I turned off the car, grabbed my purse, and stepped out, locking the door behind me as I headed into the restaurant.

With each step I took toward the hostess stand, my heels clicked against the marble floor, so pristine that I could see my reflection in it. Upon approaching the stand, the hostess immediately recognized me and asked me to follow her.

As we walked through the dining area, I couldn't help but feel a bit underdressed. Most of the women in the restaurant wore elegant dresses or sophisticated pantsuits, while I had opted for a nice blouse, black jeans, and heeled ankle boots.

“Girl, shut up! You look fine,” I reassured myself.

The hostess led me around the corner to the private dining rooms, stopping in front of one and gesturing for me to enter with a warm smile. “Enjoy,” she said.

I nodded and smiled back as I pulled back the curtain. The moment I stepped inside, it felt like the air was sucked out of the room as he looked up from his phone.

His hair was freshly cut, the lighting in the room bounced off his sharp jawline, eyes were just as pretty as ever, and from what I could tell Joe took the same clothing route as me with his low black turtle neck and a silver chain. And he confirmed it when he stood up a nice pair of black pants and black and white forces. This man is just too damn Fine.

“There’s my girl,” he said, his voice filled with warmth that washed away a bit of my anxiety. I felt my cheeks heat up as I made my way to him, the ambiance enveloping us like a comforting embrace.

“Hey,” I managed, my pulse quickening as I took my seat across from him. 

“You look amazing,” he said, his eyes meeting mine with a sincerity that made my heart flutter.

“Thanks! I was a little unsure about the outfit,” I admitted, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease a bit.

He chuckled, lifting his glass of water. “You could wear a potato sack, and you’d still look incredible.”

As we chatted over our meals, I discovered that our laughter and banter flowed as naturally as it had in college. Each shared memory and inside joke rekindled a sense of ease. I started to realize that this date, this moment with Joe, was more than just a friendly outing—it was a reminder of the bond we shared.

When dessert arrived, we both leaned in, sharing bites of rich chocolate cake, our playful teasing filling the air as sweetly as the treat itself. 

“Why don’t we do this more often?” I asked, a hint of vulnerability in my tone.

“Because neither of us ever thought we’d be here,” he replied softly, his gaze holding mine. “But now that we are, I want to make it a regular thing.”

In that moment, the weight of the past began to lift, replaced by something warm and promising. Whatever uncertainties had plagued me faded into the background as we dug deeper into our conversation, hearts open and honest.

Joe and I talked about everything under the sun and then some over dinner. The conversation was never-ending which led us to now me and Joe sitting on the couch splitting a piece of strawberry cheesecake that the restaurant gave me as congrats on the World Series win. 

“You said a regular thing,” I said, putting my fork on the plate. “Do you mean that in a friend type of way or a girlfriend type of way?” I asked just ripping the bandage off

He cut his eyes toward me before he chuckled “I don't take my friends out on dates Ri nor do I buy them flowers’ 

Still didn't answer my question.

“But”

Oh no

“If you were mine you’d get all the dates and flowers you want” 

My heart raced at his words, a mix of excitement and uncertainty swirling within me. “Joe, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” I tried to play it cool, but there was a tremor in my voice that gave away just how much this moment mattered. He leaned closer, a teasing smirk spreading across his face, making his blue eyes sparkle in the soft light of the living room. “I just mean, I see you as more than just a friend. You know that, right?” His tone shifted, sincerity breaking through the lighthearted banter. I could feel the weight of that statement hanging between us, heavy with possibility. 

I took a deep breath, my mind racing through all the moments we had shared—the laughter, the late-night talks, the quiet glances that lingered just a heartbeat too long. “I’ve thought about it, Joe,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “But… what does that really mean for us?” The question hung in the air, fragile yet charged, and for a moment, I could almost hear the rapid cadence of both our hearts. He seemed to ponder my words, his playful smirk replaced by a serious expression, and I could see the depth of his feelings reflected in his gaze. 

“Whatever it means, I want to find out together,” Joe finally replied, his voice steady but soft, as if he understood the gravity of the moment. There was an intensity in his gaze that made my heart race even faster. “I’ve never felt this way before. It scares me, but in the best possible way.” My breath hitched at his words, a flicker of light in the whirlwind of my thoughts. The uncertainty of the future loomed large, but in that instant, it felt as if we were rewriting the very boundaries of our friendship. I took a step closer, feeling the warmth radiate between us, as if the universe itself was aligning in our favor. "Then let's take that leap together," I whispered back, my voice trembling but resolute.

“Will you be mine Ri?” Joe asked the question I've been waiting to be asked for years and with zero hesitation I answered 

“I already was” 

Before I knew it Joe's lips were on mine the faint taste of the strawberry still on his lips just making me want him more. As our lips moved in perfect harmony, I could feel the warmth of his hands gently cradling my face, deepening the kiss with a fervor that took my breath away. The world around us faded into oblivion, the noise of the bustling café drowned out by the racing heartbeat in my ears. Each moment felt electric, sending shivers down my spine as I pulled him closer, wanting to bridge the gap we’d kept for so long. It was as if all the unsaid words and stolen glances had finally culminated into this singular, beautiful connection. 

In other words, if felt like…Love 

@hoodharlow @enretrogue

[bbuzz28]

this thought immediately came to mind when I read this idea (and it maybe gets away from the point a lil bit, ((apologies)) ):

For his first thunderstorm at the Shack, Stan Pines slept in the bathtub.

He's experienced all kinds of weather over the years- the sticky humidity of a Tijuanna winter, ice storms that could freeze rats solid on a New York City fire escape, fog banks that cover the road so thick that you can barely see a foot in front of you (or whatever the hell an elk was) in Washington State.

Technically speaking, a thunderstorm should have been comforting-he remembered many a summer night running home from the beach in the rain with Ford- and yet...

He can hear every pane of glass in every single window in the house shake. He runs around and taped them in place just like they used to do during hurricane season, and yet the noise still follows him wherever he goes in the Shack. Why did Ford have to build a house with so many fucking windows? The noise is overwhelming and there unfortunately isn't anything else he can do but wait the storm out.

He considers going underground to the lab-he wouldn't be able to hear anything there. He still hadn't worked out how the electricity worked in the lab (though it luckily didn't seem to be attached to the electric bill)-he was pretty sure it had its own generator, but this would be a hell of a day to test that theory if he ended up without power and stuck in that dreary place.

Instead, he turns off the lights and draws back the flimsy shower curtain around the tub-shoving a pillow on the opposite side from the spigot. He'd rather face the opposite way to keep an eye on the door even if it was locked, but the last time he slept in here he ended up cracking his head on the damn thing. He had enough going on in his life without giving himself a concussion.

As he lay in the dark, he tried to remember the last time he felt this unnerved by a storm and his mind took a walk back to Glass Shard Beach, 1960-something. His father was away for the weekend with the fellas from The Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel and Shermie was staying overnight at a friend's house- leaving just Ford, his mother and the cat at home.

They laid three to a bed in his parent's big bed, listening to the windows shake and the wind howl. As his mother's cat clung to her head, Stan considered joining it as another thunderclap shook the upstairs apartment. What if the storm blew all the windows in? What if the bay flooded? What would happen if water got into his father's shop? He remembered his mother pulled him and Ford closer to her in the bed, Stan flush against her and his brother against him, shushing any worries. She told them she knew exactly how far away the storm really was-and not just because she was a psychic.

Now in the slightly damp tub, too many years later, Stan tried to count how many seconds fell between the flash of light and the sound of thunder just as his mother taught them. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven-CRACK! He turned to face the rim of the tub, gently placing Ford's glasses from his pocket along the edge and stared at them. He shouldn't have them, but at the last second he had grabbed them off his brother's old chest of drawers-as if the inanimate object could provide any sense of company.

The curve of the tub, though colder than his mother ever was, held him as comfortably as the El Diablo ever had. He had spent more nights than not in her worn leather seats, blocking out the outside world with the pieces of cardboard he had perfectly traced to fit each of her windows. The tub was like that; he felt better being enclosed, waiting for the next flash of lightning.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten- CRACK! Okay, the storm was moving at least-was it two miles away now? Isn't that how the math worked? He remembered vaguely how his brother exclaimed that his mother's trick was just math at the end of the day. At least if Stan was distracted by the numbers bouncing around in his head, he couldn't concentrate on anything else. Like how he wished Ford was here, since it wouldn't take him half as long to count or do fourth grade math in his head- he would just know.

He stretched a leg out and kicked the faucet, wincing as he went over the numbers one more time, certain he was right. He felt a little silly-he was a grown man. A grown man with a bed. That's where men were supposed to sleep, not cars or park benches and certainly not bathtubs. His father surely never slept in a bathtub. He wonders if Ford ever did-maybe after a drunken college night with that blonde guy in the photos he had found the other week.

One, two, three, four, five- CRACK! It didn't matter-no one was here to judge him. Now that the storm was certainly overhead it didn't feel quite as lonely as it normally felt in that big open bed. It was nothing like his car, nor his (at this point if it still existed, much too tiny) bunk bed back in New Jersey. He wasn't sure if he would ever get used to the open space-but he supposed as long as he lived here he could always just set up an unofficial camp.

Stan concentrated on the curve of the tub and how it held him, imagining he was far, far away. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep; hoping beyond hope that he wouldn't dream, but if he did it would be of home.

Stanley having trouble sleeping in an actual bed so he sleeps in a tub because it's cramped...like his car.

[x-heesy]

I̷’̷m̷ ̷s̷t̷r̷a̷i̷g̷h̷t̷ ̷o̷u̷t̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷f̷l̷a̷m̷e̷s̷ ̷O̷p̷e̷n̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷c̷a̷s̷e̷ ̷I̷’̷m̷ ̷b̷u̷r̷n̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷d̷e̷a̷d̷ ̷b̷o̷d̷i̷e̷s̷ ̷I̷ ̷d̷o̷n̷’̷t̷ ̷k̷n̷o̷w̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷i̷r̷ ̷n̷a̷m̷e̷s̷ ̷I̷ ̷p̷i̷s̷s̷ ̷o̷n̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷c̷h̷u̷r̷c̷h̷ ̷I̷ ̷c̷o̷m̷e̷ ̷w̷i̷t̷h̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷p̷u̷r̷g̷e̷ ̷T̷h̷e̷y̷ ̷a̷l̷l̷ ̷i̷n̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷b̷a̷s̷e̷m̷e̷n̷t̷ ̷Y̷o̷u̷ ̷d̷o̷n̷’̷t̷ ̷n̷e̷e̷d̷ ̷t̷o̷ ̷s̷e̷a̷r̷c̷h̷ ̷ ̷T̷h̷e̷y̷ ̷c̷a̷l̷l̷ ̷m̷e̷ ̷f̷r̷e̷a̷k̷ ̷a̷n̷d̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷l̷o̷s̷e̷r̷ ̷F̷i̷e̷n̷d̷ ̷a̷n̷d̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷b̷o̷o̷z̷e̷r̷ ̷M̷y̷ ̷w̷h̷o̷l̷e̷ ̷b̷o̷d̷y̷ ̷i̷t̷c̷h̷i̷n̷’̷ ̷B̷u̷t̷ ̷I̷’̷m̷ ̷n̷o̷t̷ ̷a̷ ̷f̷u̷c̷k̷i̷n̷’̷ ̷u̷s̷e̷r̷ ̷M̷a̷y̷b̷e̷ ̷n̷o̷w̷ ̷I̷ ̷c̷o̷u̷l̷d̷ ̷u̷s̷e̷ ̷s̷o̷m̷e̷ ̷L̷i̷f̷e̷ ̷i̷s̷ ̷s̷o̷ ̷g̷r̷u̷e̷s̷o̷m̷e̷ ̷Y̷o̷u̷r̷ ̷m̷o̷t̷h̷e̷r̷,̷ ̷m̷e̷,̷ ̷B̷l̷o̷o̷d̷y̷ ̷M̷a̷r̷y̷ ̷G̷o̷n̷n̷a̷ ̷h̷a̷v̷e̷ ̷a̷ ̷t̷h̷r̷e̷e̷s̷o̷m̷e̷ ̷(̷I̷ ̷a̷l̷w̷a̷y̷s̷ ̷s̷e̷e̷m̷ ̷t̷o̷ ̷b̷r̷e̷a̷k̷)̷ ̷ ̷I̷t̷’̷s̷ ̷a̷ ̷d̷e̷n̷i̷a̷l̷ ̷I̷ ̷c̷a̷n̷’̷t̷ ̷e̷s̷c̷a̷p̷e̷ ̷m̷y̷ ̷f̷a̷t̷e̷ ̷I̷ ̷b̷u̷r̷n̷ ̷i̷n̷ ̷f̷i̷r̷e̷ ̷I̷’̷m̷ ̷b̷u̷r̷n̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷a̷t̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷s̷t̷a̷k̷e̷ ̷I̷ ̷s̷t̷a̷r̷t̷ ̷t̷o̷ ̷s̷m̷i̷l̷e̷ ̷A̷n̷d̷ ̷i̷t̷’̷s̷ ̷s̷o̷ ̷f̷u̷c̷k̷i̷n̷’̷ ̷f̷a̷k̷e̷ ̷I̷ ̷s̷e̷e̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷l̷i̷g̷h̷t̷ ̷ ̷L̷i̷t̷t̷l̷e̷ ̷b̷l̷o̷n̷d̷e̷ ̷P̷u̷t̷ ̷m̷e̷ ̷i̷n̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷f̷u̷c̷k̷i̷n̷’̷ ̷f̷r̷i̷e̷n̷d̷z̷o̷n̷e̷ ̷N̷o̷w̷ ̷I̷ ̷g̷e̷t̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷f̷e̷e̷l̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷I̷ ̷s̷h̷o̷u̷l̷d̷ ̷p̷o̷p̷ ̷a̷n̷o̷t̷h̷e̷r̷ ̷b̷e̷n̷z̷o̷ ̷B̷i̷t̷c̷h̷,̷ ̷I̷’̷m̷ ̷a̷t̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷p̷e̷a̷k̷ ̷I̷ ̷b̷e̷ ̷c̷o̷m̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷t̷o̷ ̷a̷n̷ ̷e̷n̷d̷ ̷z̷o̷n̷e̷ ̷J̷u̷s̷t̷ ̷s̷o̷ ̷y̷o̷u̷ ̷k̷n̷o̷w̷ ̷I̷ ̷w̷i̷l̷l̷ ̷n̷e̷v̷e̷r̷ ̷f̷o̷r̷g̷e̷t̷ ̷y̷o̷u̷ ̷ ̷I̷ ̷r̷e̷p̷r̷e̷s̷e̷n̷t̷ ̷a̷l̷l̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷b̷a̷d̷ ̷M̷o̷t̷h̷e̷r̷f̷u̷c̷k̷e̷r̷s̷ ̷f̷r̷o̷m̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷d̷e̷a̷d̷ ̷A̷s̷ ̷I̷’̷m̷ ̷w̷a̷l̷k̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷i̷n̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷d̷u̷n̷g̷e̷o̷n̷ ̷A̷n̷d̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷v̷i̷s̷i̷o̷n̷ ̷l̷i̷k̷e̷ ̷a̷ ̷b̷a̷t̷ ̷I̷t̷’̷s̷ ̷a̷ ̷t̷h̷r̷e̷a̷t̷,̷ ̷m̷a̷k̷e̷ ̷a̷ ̷s̷w̷e̷a̷t̷ ̷D̷e̷m̷o̷n̷ ̷c̷r̷a̷w̷l̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷o̷n̷ ̷y̷o̷u̷r̷ ̷b̷a̷c̷k̷ ̷N̷o̷w̷ ̷y̷o̷u̷’̷r̷e̷ ̷b̷u̷r̷n̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷i̷n̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷f̷i̷r̷e̷ ̷C̷a̷n̷ ̷y̷o̷u̷ ̷s̷e̷e̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷s̷h̷a̷d̷e̷s̷ ̷o̷f̷ ̷b̷l̷a̷c̷k̷?̷ ̷(̷I̷ ̷a̷l̷w̷a̷y̷s̷ ̷s̷e̷e̷m̷ ̷t̷o̷ ̷b̷r̷e̷a̷k̷)̷ ̷ ̷I̷t̷’̷s̷ ̷a̷ ̷d̷e̷n̷i̷a̷l̷ ̷I̷ ̷c̷a̷n̷’̷t̷ ̷e̷s̷c̷a̷p̷e̷ ̷m̷y̷ ̷f̷a̷t̷e̷ ̷I̷ ̷b̷u̷r̷n̷ ̷i̷n̷ ̷f̷i̷r̷e̷ ̷I̷’̷m̷ ̷b̷u̷r̷n̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷a̷t̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷s̷t̷a̷k̷e̷ ̷I̷ ̷s̷t̷a̷r̷t̷ ̷t̷o̷ ̷s̷m̷i̷l̷e̷ ̷A̷n̷d̷ ̷i̷t̷’̷s̷ ̷s̷o̷ ̷f̷u̷c̷k̷i̷n̷g̷ ̷f̷a̷k̷e̷ ̷I̷ ̷s̷e̷e̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷l̷i̷g̷h̷t̷

Straight Outta Flames by REDZED @bethanythestrange @bigbonzo @seanisnothing

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Just your average male living space.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[stellerssong]

North Table Mountain, Oroville, CA 04/13/2024

[benjiclarington]

I don't know if she gave up custody or if she didn't have a choice. I wanted to ask Baxter, but he freaked out before we got that far.

[Benji let out a strained laugh.] What kind of question is that?

I have an innocent toddler with a billion different issues that I'm trying to make sure get addressed. I'm trying to find specialists and schedule appointments all over the place. And every time I think I'm almost caught up, something else shows up.--Did you see that weird rash on Teddy's shoulder blade? If it doesn't go away, I need to find him a dermatologist. I think it might be eczema.

And don't even get me started on all the ridiculous stuff I'm having to do to try to get him on the waitlist for preschools in New York--people literally start that when the baby's born, you know. We're 2 years behind and applying from a different state.

And that's just the stuff we have to do if we actually get to keep him! This whole adoption thing was already complicated enough with Grandma Alice and how back-and-forth her health has been--which I'm still worried about. But now on top of all that, I'm finding out Teddy's mother--who's a fucking felon--is just gonna waltz in now and throw who knows how many wrenches into an already difficult and non-guaranteed process. And, even if we do get custody, we now have to worry about our toddler's identity potentially being stolen at any time. I mean, she's his birth mom. If she wrote his social down anywhere, she can basically get free reign to do whatever unless we find yet another lawyer that we're gonna have to pay who knows how much for who knows how long.

And this is just for Teddy! We're still constantly in talks with the agency in the Philippines about finding Rosalie. And it's not like we can just stop that while all this other stuff gets figured out. We already put all this money into the international adoption lawyer and if we pull back, we'll lose all that money and our waitlist spot.

Oh. And don't forget I'm trying to completely revamp the structure of the club we own on top of all that. Completely by myself because Baxter said it was too much for him to handle anymore!

And you know I'm supposed to have a future, too, right? I'm supposed to be prepping for Cirque's open auditions next year. But I haven't even started because where the hell is the time for that?!

So yes. I'm stressed out of my mind. Yes, I'm scared my beautiful baby boy might lose the only stable home he's ever had and the only family he really ever knew.

So HaShem forbid I reach out to SJ about some of this stuff and go with his suggestions or let him take care of some of this stuff himself! I'm not trying to offend anyone. I'm just trying to not lose my mind.

Teddy's mom just got released from prison--and don't even start because I didn't know until a few minutes ago either, [Benji added quickly.] And... apparently she went away for identity theft.

I don't really know if she ever had access to Teddy's stuff because based on the little I've talked to Grandma Alice, I always thought that she's had him in her custody since literally day one, but just in case, we wanna make sure all of Teddy's info gets locked away until he's 18 and that there's stuff in place to make sure nothing fishy happens when he's ready to start actually doing things.

But he is part of the process! It's not like we just blindly let SJ do whatever he wants. He gives suggestions and if we like them, we go with them. If we don't, we don't. There just haven't really been any where we didn't like them yet.

[nadjabear]

I knew haircuts were more expensive in the U.S but my god I was not ready for these prices

[prospitfox]

.

[tenok]

.

[kirbyddd]

ok that was a new one

[7-oh-ta1]

I've been having an existential crisis for the past month and the worst part is that it's the kind of thing that like, you can't sit down and talk to somebody about without feeling awkward. Vaguely, it's a thing where like, the answer you'll usually get is that "it's different for everyone" but I want to understand the other side, too and that answer is so useless. Like whats your reasoning? Explain in 4-5 sentence paragraphs, please. Not in a condescending "I'm right, so why do you think THAT?" way either I mean in like in a, if I hear it maybe I'll understand too! It's a topic with layers and I need someone on the opposite side to sit down with me and peel all of them back. It feels like... there's certain truths to all humans, except I'm human and I don't know them. I feel like I'm operating on an entirely different system and I want to understand the human way and the things that everyone else but me knows and understands on a basic level. To add to that because these truths are universal absolutely no one will sit down and discuss them; they just assume everyone knows and is operating on the same page to not talk about it. So now I, the one wanting to understand, don't even want to talk about it because I know the other person either won't take me seriously or will clam up! Not even worth it.

So anyway I'm trying to focus on old hobbies to take my mind off of it!!!!

[tardis--dreams]

Girl you gotta write your term paper and not cry about your poor life choices

[storekn1fe]

sometimes i wish csm had less of a grip on my brain rn so i could drop it for a bit and wait for chapters to accumulate because it reads sooooooo much better like that