#like the Frosty Mart

[its-rat-time-babey]

Above: A Tamagotchi named “Scampers” belonging to Yo from Fanboy and Chum Chum, created by Eric Robles.

Above: Chomp Kitty from Glitch Techs, co-created by Eric Robles.

Coincidence? I think not.

[steddieas-shegoes]

sir, this is a wendy's

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'modern au' rated t wc: 765 tags: established relationship, proposal, kinda silly

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"They're out of the cookies, sweetheart," Eddie turned to Steve as he came back from the restroom of the Wendy's.

They were still nearly six hours from home and exhausted, a little bit grumpy if Steve's silence for the last hour was anything to go by.

"I'll have a Frosty then."

"Machine's down."

Steve blinked at him before sighing.

"I guess nothing then, right? Just the burger and fries."

Eddie sighed, too.

The visit with Robin hadn't gone...well. She'd told them she was taking a year to study abroad and part of the program meant she could only come home for one week during their summer break. Steve wasn't taking it well that she'd go from being an eight hour drive away to an eight hour flight away.

He was being patient.

He knew Steve hated change like this, and he'd only been sitting with it for about 12 hours.

Eddie turned back to the cashier with a smile.

"Two number two's, one with no onions and one with no tomatoes please."

Steve was standing next to him, staring down at his phone. When Eddie looked over, he had a tab open showing the program details of Robin's study abroad track.

While they waited for their food, Eddie watched Steve biting his lip, then his thumbnail, and then his lip again.

"Stevie, what's goin' on in your head?" Eddie finally asked.

Steve shoved his phone in his pocket and looked at the floor.

"Nothin'."

"It's clearly somethin'. You worried about Robin?"

"Obviously," Steve huffed.

"Love, she's-"

"Steve Munson!"

Both of them whipped their heads back to the counter, where a woman was pushing a tray of food towards them.

Steve's wide eyes looked back at Eddie, cheeks a bright red.

Eddie walked up to grab their food, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach at the thought of Steve actually being Steve Munson.

It's not that he hadn't thought about it before; He had thought about it most days for the last year.

There was a ring in his drawer at their apartment to prove it.

"Table?" Eddie choked out, avoiding eye contact with Steve.

They were quiet as they sat down, taking their food off the tray and looking at it. Not eating, not even touching it anymore, just looking.

"Um."

"So."

They looked at each other, then back down at their food.

"Steve Munson sounds kinda nice," Eddie said hesitantly.

"Yeah?" Steve was picking at the wrapper around his burger now.

"I mean, I've thought so for a while."

"You have?"

Eddie was really about to propose in this Wendy's.

Without a ring or a real speech.

Just himself and a few old people in the corner eating chili.

"I'm gonna do this for real somewhere that isn't a Wendy's on an exit in some shitty town that has two gas stations and a Wal-Mart, but for now." He cleared his throat and reached across the table to take Steve's hand. "I dunno why they called that name, but maybe it's a sign. I love you. I know right now you're having a lot of thoughts, and you don't have to answer me. I'm not even on one knee, but really this is a Wendy's and my knee's been hurting for the entire ride. I love you. I said that already."

Steve giggled and Eddie couldn't help smiling back at him.

"I love you. I'll say it as much as you want, as long as it makes that smile happen. I'll say it when you're sad and grumpy, when you're happy and silly, when you're tired, when you're hyper. If it's okay with you, I'll scream it right here."

"In the Wendy's?"

"Yes, in the Wendy's."

Steve just nodded.

"Attention everyone! This man right here? I love him!" Eddie was saying loudly, gaining the attention of everyone around them. "And I'm asking him right now, to be my husband!"

"Sir, this is a Wendy's," an old lady sitting in the booth across from them said.

Eddie and Steve immediately started laughing.

"Well, is he sayin' yes so you'll shut up or what?" An old man said from the other end of the lobby.

Eddie looked at Steve with a smirk.

"Yeah, I'll marry you," Steve said loud enough for everyone to hear.

A couple people clapped, but for the most part, everyone went back to ignoring them.

Eddie kissed Steve softly, chastely.

"Was this a distraction from the Robin thing?" Steve asked.

"Not intentionally. Worked though."

Steve rolled his eyes fondly.

"You better make the real proposal a spectacle."

"Anything for you, my love."

[rotomblr-island]

New analytics idea: what’s every mii’s opinion of white bread?

sigh.

sylvan: likes it

N: doesn't really like it

intern: likes it

shallahi: doesn't really like it

cider: likes it

yin: likes it

paris: really likes it

petrichor: likes it

maple: likes it

kopi: doesn't really like it

cass: really likes it

milas: likes it

dave: likes it

jaime: likes it

nemona: really likes it

zita: all-time favorite!

clive: really likes it

dray: really likes it

aster: likes it

axel: loves it

toby: likes it

meta: really likes it

pandoria: likes it

cora: doesn't really like it

peridot: likes it

win: likes it

rogue: doesn't really like it

squid: likes it

darrin: likes it

KC: doesn't really like it

miku: likes it

blue: likes it

honey: likes it

tommy: likes it

sprite: likes it

lime: doesn't really like it

cynthia: likes it

stars: doesn't really like it

blake: really likes it

hesper: really likes it

luci: doesn't really like it

ren: really likes it

dig: likes it

chrys: likes it

mai: really likes it

trai: likes it

roark: really likes it

elle: really likes it

red: likes it

rodney: likes it

mart: likes it

lily: loves it

neri: really likes it

vanilla: doesn't really like it

frosty: likes it

connie: doesn't really like it

anthea: likes it

maya: likes it

wallace: likes it

steven: likes it

kohaku: likes it

poppy: really likes it

kittsu: likes it

reuniclus: really likes it

lumi: likes it

pol: likes it

CD: really likes it

bugsy: doesn't really like it

boo: loves it

amy: loves it

shilo: really likes it

cooper: doesn't really like it

galatea: doesn't really like it

tropius: likes it

gen: likes it

laelia: doesn't really like it

sephy: likes it

marshall: really likes it

wyverlyn: likes it

jesse: loves it

lace: likes it:

aero: likes it

skitty: doesn't really like it

cerise: really likes it

hilda: likes it

cerese: doesn't really like it

crispin: loves it

sword: likes it

tenma: loves it

[dadswithipads]

Reacting to Fbacc episodes

Monster in the mist

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

I love thie shoe. 👠.

I've already watched the Fangboy episode

Who is his voice actor? Teef. What about Sandy tho?? As Chum Chum. Why are they doing this to my boy lenny?!? Speaking of Cha cha I've had "The Bear Cha Cha Cha" stuck my head all day.

What's the advertising the frosty Mart like it's a hot dog stand? BAM!!#*!!*

KksksoekjanKkdkzisnskdkkkrkkKKdkskKDKDIWJAJKWIWJAIENSJ BOOG. His eyes.

There's a tongue attached to his hand? "Hes a complicated guy". Lmao.

Fanboy my son. A horror fan at heart. Love him. Chum chum my son as well. Thë miSt. The 2004 sunglasses😭. Its lenny I swear. No LENNY!! Thë miSt. Boog clinging onto Lenny💫. Y he clapping lmao.

Off to visit his nana in Thë miSt. I Love u chum chum. HIS TAP DANCE SKSNEIE. I openly cackled. Cactus!!!?!??!????

The door opening in the background. The music. What wait a -💨💨💨💨💨💨💨

Boog and Lenny wearing glasses💅. Uh👶😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😨😨😨😨what.

Thë miSt.

[wiishopwednesday]

The sequence begins with a bird flying through town and kicking the ass of two people sitting in the Frosty Mart parking lot. Both create large airborne debris. When the buzzer sounds, Fanboy and Chum Chum slide down the green and yellow slides. The black doors close and the two faces joke until the elevator doors open and the two dance. This move causes two balls to pass through it, turning it into a Yum Yum. An angry Kyle notices them and tries to throw them a ball, but quickly loses it as they jump on him, grab him and take off his underwear. Caul evaluates the audience with the sense of air. Frosty's Freezy Freeze move sends the two flying like tornadoes until they separate and crash into the silhouette of Fanboy's head, causing the crowd to laugh and scream. “I'm freezing my brain out!” then everyone dances on the roof while the camera rolls. Chris, Lupe, Yo and Michael looked at each other and Kyle smiled. The transformation stopped and they both put on the robes that bore the names of those who began to work. The transition changes the operator's signature lines as they hold the upper and lower lizards in place as they dance. The sequence ends with the shattering of glass, which leads to the television show's logo and then to a machine that creates the silhouette of Fanboy's head.

The sequence begins with a bird flying through town and kicking the ass of two people sitting in the Frosty Mart parking lot. Both create large airborne debris. When the buzzer sounds, Fanboy and Chum Chum slide down the green and yellow slides. The black doors close and the two faces joke until the elevator doors open and the two dance. This move causes two balls to pass through it, turning it into a Yum Yum. An angry Kyle notices them and tries to throw them a ball, but quickly loses it as they jump on him, grab him and take off his underwear. Caul evaluates the audience with the sense of air. Frosty's Freezy Freeze move sends the two flying like tornadoes until they separate and crash into the silhouette of Fanboy's head, causing the crowd to laugh and scream. “I'm freezing my brain out!” then everyone dances on the roof while the camera rolls. Chris, Lupe, Yo and Michael looked at each other and Kyle smiled. The transformation stopped and they both put on the robes that bore the names of those who began to work. The transition changes the operator's signature lines as they hold the upper and lower lizards in place as they dance. The sequence ends with the shattering of glass, which leads to the television show's logo and then to a machine that creates the silhouette of Fanboy's head.

[jacobb99]

I saw something strange at my local Astro-Mart pt. 4

Sorry for the lack of uploads recently, things have been weird as hell. So I won’t delay too much and just get right into this.

EDIT: Hey, so things got even crazier this was supposed to go up last Friday but my ISP flipped me the bird so now until further notice I’m uploading these from the local McDonalds.

First off apparently the store has some kind of time warpy altery effect? Okay, so my shift is supposed to be only 9 hours long including my two half hour breaks. However, it always feels like its longer, and my phone doesn’t really work right while in the store, and we don’t have a clock inside so I thought it was just that making it seem longer, kinda the reverse of the thing casinos do. But nope it really started bothering me so I did the first thing I could think of, check the security footage since it has a timer on it. And what do you know turns out my feeling was right, while only 9 hours have passed during my shift there is 11 hours of footage from when I come in to when I clock out. I’m slightly tempted to see about contacting my boss and maybe use that to get more paid hours but at this rate I would be surprised if it turned out the owner can’t melt my brain by thinking it. Are there any laws about this? I’m pretty sure Florida doesn’t have any laws that prevent employers from sticking you in a time warp but it feels like there should be.

The Smorgasbeast is back, turns out I was right when I thought I saw it creeping around outside the store, its apparently been eating out of the dumpster. I have also learned it really likes hot dogs, so now I bring some with me incase its hanging around when I take the trash to out back. Also, before I continue I’m still confused by all the comments saying that the Smorgasbeast is a Caudate, still super confused cause when I look that up I just get brain scan images.

I’ve had a few more “supernatural” customers since the last post, mainly a cyclops, What may have been a skinwalker or something, a walking pile of what I think were the cardboard tubes from toilet paper rolls, and someone who I think is probably my favorite customer. But first lets go over the others.

The “cyclops” is kinda simple, this short dude, probably 3 ft. and some change, and buff as hell. If you told me this guy could pic up a car I would believe you. Anyway he walks gets himself a cup of coffee, and a bottle of oil (the kind for a car). And that was kinda that, he didn’t really say anything.

The skincrawler guy on the other hand was an, interesting one, so its about 11 pm on Wednesday and this dude with a deerskull on his head, complete with antlers, wearing nothing but furs and carrying a spear. He walks down the isles as I try not to make eye contact and comes back to the counter with a tin of spam, a bag of pork rinds, a hershy bar, and a Frostie Root Bear. He hands me a $50, then he says something in a language I don’t recognize, picks up his goods and leaves. It kinda sounded like he said aeiou afgan kid?

Alright, now he have to get the downright most bizarre thing I have seen since taking this job, the TP guy. Alright so its like 3 am, I’m chilling out listening to Moon Base Alpha songs cause I was bored as hell and hoping my shift would just end, when the door opens and in walks in this guy made of cardboard toilet paper tubes with a roll of TP for a head. Like this guy looked like a stick figure. So at this point I’ve paused my music cause, well there is a customer, and cause I kinda like to all my senses when the spooky stuffs happening. Anyway so it goes skipping down the isles like a shitty extra for the sound of music or something, and kept doing so for probably about 25 minutes, I was about to ask if I could help or something like I’m supposed to when it sticks its arms straight out to its sides (think like a T-pose) and it freaking sprints down the chip isle knocking. EVERY. SINGLE. BAG. Off the shelves, all of them. It then runs like its going to go out the door, but instead just runs into the door, exploding and sending cardboard tubes everywhere. Needless to say, after I regained my composer I spent the rest of my shift cleaning up the mess it left behind. If anyone has any ideas what that thing was some info would be appreciated, I’m partly wanting it cause I’m just confused, and partly because I’d like it to never return.

Alright, now onto Cloyed. My new favorite customer. Okay, so normally I’m fine with not being talked to by the customers, mostly cause on a given night most of them are just the creepy locals, and that one guy from the local church who comes in exclusively to preach at me how incest isn’t a sin and is the only way into heaven. So yeah, I’m usually pretty glad my more paranormal visitors aren’t talkative. Then I met Cloiyed. Now I want you to imagine this, its like midnight, you’re listening to Peper Steak while cleaning up a bottle of vegetable oil that decided to explode to make your night more interesting. You go sit down at the counter when a skeleton walks in. I’m not talking like a really skinny person, I mean what looks like one of those skeletons you’d have seen in your biology class on a stand, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, the classic socks and sandals combo, and wearing a pair of those stupid sunglasses, the ones where the lenses are made to look like a pineapple that you’ll find some of the tourist trap places down here selling, also the glasses still have the tag from wherever he bought them from still on it. Anyway so this guy walks up, leans on the counter and says

“Howdy Ho there pal, The name's Cloyed, and I'm just clawing my way through life. Say, mind if I shell out some dough for a pack of those smokes? I'm just dying for a puff."

Now as weird as hell this was I honestly having a hard time keeping from laughing, not quite sure why but I was just kinda over taken with a sense of. Humor? Laughter? Not sure, anyway I managed to keep my composure and ask what brand he wanted.

"Ah, the brand question. I don't want to sound like a broken record, but I'm looking for something that won't make me feel like I've been buried six feet under. Any recommendations that won't leave a bad aftertaste or a skeleton in my closet?"

So, I ask him if he would like some Winston brand ones, (we are supposed to recommend Winston for some reason even though I’ve never met anyone who smokes that brand)

 "Well, I don't mean to sound like a pinchy penny, but I've had a few bad experiences with those before. Let's just say they left a bit of a crabby taste in my mouth. But, hey, I'm not here to point fingers or wave claws. If that's all you got, I guess I'll just have to grin and bear it, or in my case, grin and shell it.”

I then let him know we also have Newports, and to be honest I was starting to wonder if he was blind cause you know there’s a huge cigarette display right behind me.

"Absolutely! You've been such a great help, I'll definitely take a pack. Mind if I pay with cash? I know it's not the most modern way to pay, but I'm just an old-fashioned fellow. I promise it's not counterfeit, I wouldn't want to get caught in a shell game, you know?"

I let him know that he can and he pays me with a Hamilton and waves at me telling me to stay safe as he leaves.

Needless to say that is one of the more pleasant encounters I have had recently.

So uh a few things before I disappear again, first I again want to thank everyone for the comments and likes.

I’ve been thinking about calling the Smorgasbeast “Smorgy” for short, both cause Smorgasbeast is a pain to spell and cause that’s kinda what I’ve been referring to it internally for a bit now, cause Smorgasbeast was just the name I slapped on the thing. Not sure, let me know what you think about that.

I made a shitposty kinda image to show you what the TP guy looked like. I’ll post it on my tumbler and my subreddit r/AstroMartStories

Saw the Tall man again this week, still creepy as all get out.

To u/Katters8811 I’m thinking your theory about Antonio and this job is correct.

To answer some other questions I am 24 years old. Not sure why that is such a popular question.

I do not smoke, never have and don’t as of now plan on picking up the habit.

I’m sleeping a little better now.

[mxvladdy]

Little Stardew somethin’ somethin’

*Barges into your house with fluff nobody asked for* In this house we LOVE and RESPECT our sad boi and wish him well. 

Hopeful Fluff of Shane getting better. Idk what to call it but I wrote it soooo-

TW: Mentions of alcoholism and withdrawals symptoms 

Mornings were your favorite. The crisp mountain air coming in from your open windows. Helping erase the slight bitter tinge of mead and wine fermenting in your basement before the next festival. Pouring another cup of coffee you watch the sunrise from your kitchen window. It’s golden rays bounce off the river water flowing lazily outside your garden wall. A few fat salmon jumped out teasingly, scales shining in the cool fall air. 

“Whatca think Salem?” You pat your shepherd's head. “Fishing after herding the sheep? Or a horse ride into town? I think Gus has got some new treats for ya.” Salem woofs, wagging his tail once before trotting to his dog bowl. He eats quickly then eyes the back door expectantly. “All right, herding it is.” Checking the breakfast casserole in the oven and peeking in on your boyfriend’s sleeping form you tiptoe out the house to get your morning started before breakfast. 

Watering and harvesting took longer than usual. The fruit trees hung low and groaned under the weight of their labor. The peaches looked exceptional this harvest too. You pick them, making a mental note to preserve some for Evelyn and Abigail then sell the rest to Pierre. After the harvesting and several trips to the storage shed you go to check on all your babies. 

Several new chickens had hatched overnight too. Three brown, a white, and another void. You tuck the little black chick into your hoodie and give it a smooch. As useless as their eggs were for eating you always had a soft spot for these tiny goth chickens. Taking it to the coop you had specially built for your void-born feathered friends you deposit the little one amongst its brethren. It peeps in thanks before waddling off to peck at the fresh feed.

Morning chores done, you jog back to your house hoping your casserole hasn't burned. The house smelled of spiced ham and fresh garlic when you reentered. The rest of the windows open to let in the river breeze and faint scent of your flower patches. The fireplace roared in its corner, chasing away the frosty nip that clung to your cheeks. “Shane?” You follow the noise from the mudroom to the kitchen entrance. 

“Ye?” He poked his head around the corner. Warm brown eyes blink at you blearily. The corners of which were still crusted over with sleep. He must have just rolled out of bed. “Morin’.” He yawns widely scratching at his rumpled old gridball hoodie. Exchanging a brief morning breath laden kiss you smooth down a few of his more wild strands of bed head. 

“Thought you were taking the day off?” Your lips touch again, pulling a happy little hum from him. 

“I am. Just thought I would finish making breakfast so you could put your feet up faster. Plus, I think I finally figured out your ham recipes.” He drags you to your favorite spot at the breakfast nook before going back to the oven. “It’s the clove to cinnamon ratio ain’t it? Too much of either distract from the flavor of the fat.” 

You nod in approval at his deduction. He pours you another cup of coffee, his hand shakes on the carafe handle. He was jittery today. Whether it was his anxiety spiking or just the jitter after a decent night of sleep you don’t know. But he’ll tell you when ready. He catches you staring when he turns back with two steaming plates of your eggs and veggie casserole and a thick slice of ham. “Tell me what you think.” 

“I’m sure it's fabulous. Gus better watch out or there will be a new chef in town.” Shane practically glows at your praise watching you like a hawk as you eat. You inhale it, the morning exercises catching up with you. He lets you eat in silence, his previous twitchiness evaporating into a nervous silence. “Everything good?” You ask in between bites. You hated to pry or push but sometimes he needed a little nudge to get talking. 

Shane stares into empty space above your head worrying his low lip. His fluffy brows dipping low. “Shit-ye- I got something to talk to you about.” He rose then, shuffling off to your shared bedroom. You exchange a worried look with Salem. He whined low in his throat then followed Shane. Since Shane had moved in Salem had stuck to him like glue. It tickled you, as he was not the friendliest dog to people that took your attention away from him. But, with Shane, he found a couch companion and a late-night walking pal. It worked out great for Shane’s mood and recovery. 

Your boyfriend reappeared with a black binder and several stacks of paper. He places them in front of you. “I’ve been thinking over what you’ve said.” He stuffs his hands in his hoodie pockets burrowing himself deeper into the thinning fabric. “Between you and Harvey I-I want to have a go at it.” His eyes are downcast in shame. You riffle through the brochures. 

Brentforest Care Facilities 

“It’s a three-month inpatient care program. Harvey helped me set up the initial psych evaluation and has vetted for it. He’s got some friends that work there too. He-we think it would be good to work on a few hold-ups I’m having.” His stomach turns sour at the downward tug of your lips when you see the zero’s on the page. “Marnie is helping me cover the cost, an’ after the first few weeks I’m even allowed guests.” He pitters out, the overwhelming need to fill the dead air as you read disappeared as quickly as it had come. 

“You got it all sorted out huh?” You look up from the documents. Shane nods. You look back at the books, then him. He forces himself to breathe through his nose. This is it. This was the last straw, it had to be. He couldn’t blame you though- he wasn’t worth the effort. 

No-nope. Not starting this again. He fought with himself shaking the thoughts right out of his head. He trusted you. Dr. Martina trusted you. You were there during the worst of his withdrawal symptoms. The fevers, and shakes; you never flinched from his unwarranted shouting and irritability either. How many sleepless nights had you spent comforting him as he wept over things he wasn’t ready to talk about. You had gone through a lot with him and still was. You wanted to see him healthy. This was just another step. 

“Dr. Martina- my therapist- and I have been working on this for a bit. I just need a few more signatures and to make the initial payment. Then- then I’m good.” He raises his eyes to meet yours, pushing the fear he felt further down in his chest. 

His arms were suddenly filled with you. Your warm body flush with his. Soft skin and fresh windswept hair flooding his senses with your hug. “I’m so proud of you.” You mutter into his jacket. Farm callus fingers grip him close inviting him to hug you back. Shane let out a shaky breath he hadn’t even known he was hiding and reciprocated. He held you close and rocked you both side to side. “What do you need me to do?”

“Mmm?” He pulled you away from his neck. You loved burrowing your face there for some reason. Months ago he had hated when you did that. He always thought he smelt of stale sweat and the recycled air of the JoJo Mart. It had clung to every part of him for years. Hardly attractive by anyone's standards. But now, working out in the coops and fields alongside volunteering at the Community Center, it had all but disappeared. Now you swore he smelled like earth and like the pine trees that grew around your house. You had even admitted his sweat smells better too. Perhaps his alcohol sweats were finally lifting. Or maybe it was the better diet you made him eat. 

“What do you need of me?” You kiss his scruffy cheek. Eyes alight with determination and affection. 

He returns your kiss with a light peck of his own. “A few signatures- to show you can visit. An’ if there was an emergency you would be a contact. If-if that’s ok with you?” He asks.

“As if you had to ask.” You beam putting your forehead to his. “I’ll miss you.” You whisper between feather light kisses.  

Shane sighs in utter relief around your coffee scented lips. “Promise to write?” He asks cupping your cheeks to rub his thumbs over the sun kissed skin. “And feed Charlie too?” You laugh, nose scrunching up in delight at his joke.

You seal the deal with a kiss. 

[vivilove-jonsa]

silver linings in the zombie apocalypse 

@jonsadungeonsanddrabbles​  Day 5 Prompt-Frosty mornings

Thank you @amymel86​ for the poster!!

****

“Shit. We’re out of ‘em.” He’d been ready to tear his hair out in frustration. How could he have miscounted?

“I don’t care. I want you, Jon.” She’d been just as desperate as him, yanking off her flannel before helping him unbutton his jeans.

“I’ll try and…fuck, Sansa…”

They’d slipped away to their tent while the others had still been singing and drinking after Grenn and Dacey had discovered three suitcases of beer in the ranger’s station last night. It’d been a brief respite in the shit world they live in now.

Sansa had been singing by the firelight for everyone when he’d not been able to stand it anymore. "About time to catch some zzzz's, isn't it? " He’d taken her hand and given a tug as she'd laughed at him, not caring if some whistled while others groused over him interrupting their songbird.

Robb had smirked at his pathetically horny friend. He’s known for a while now what a goner Jon is for her. He’s not said anything since the two of them came back from their successful supply raid three weeks ago, suddenly more than childhood acquaintances and co-survivors. More than friends who occasionally snuggled and kissed in the dark of night, too. He’d only reminded Jon that he had watch in the morning before they were out of earshot.

He’d meant to pull out. He’d failed. Drowning in Sansa every night these past three weeks is a comfort that only leaves him wanting more. Last night was no exception.

The now unaccustomed buzz of alcohol in his blood combined with the slick, tight grip of her pussy, her moans and the way her tits bounced with that red hair spilling all around them as she rode him on top of their sleeping bags had him cumming much quicker than a grown man probably should.

Should’ve gone back to that grocery mart and wiped them out while I had the chance.

The life they’re living, the world they find themselves in these days wouldn’t be safe for a pregnant woman.

But someday? Kids? Yeah, he’d like that with her.

A year ago, Sansa Stark was just a pipedream for him. Robb’s pretty little sister that Jon Snow (not without some shame, mind you) rubbed one out thinking of when he was alone in the shower up at Castle Black upon occasion.

It only took a zombie apocalypse to make his dream a reality. There’s a silver lining to everything after all.

It’s cold this morning. The ground and tent will be covered with frost but they’re still snug inside. He wishes they had some coffee to share, that they could just be two lovers enjoying your run-of-the-mill camping trip. He’s not sure Sansa would’ve cared much for camping before though.

He’d let Ghost in to join them after they’d finished and Sansa’s currently nestled between his body and the dog’s, nice and toasty. His feet are cold so he presses them against hers. She mutters sleepily and he’s grinning.

The national park isn’t a place they can stay forever but Jon wishes it was. They’ve only found one walker here, a forest ranger from the looks of his ragged uniform. He’d been easily disposed of.

It’s so beautiful with the mountains surrounding them and the leaves turning amber and crimson. There’s a crisp, clear stream truckling along nearby which had lulled Jon to sleep in his post-coital bliss. It’s better than the shuffling steps, the groans and hisses of the undead in the city.

That thought has him thinking. They can’t stay here indefinitely because they need some supplies that the wilderness can’t provide. They’d get awfully tired of unseasoned deer meat. Ammunition doesn’t grow on trees. Nan’s heart medication and other medical supplies don’t either. Neither do condoms.

“Hey,” she says softly, waking up and breaking the flow of his thoughts.

Actually, the thought of condoms and their lack of last night is still very present in his mind as he tilts his head to look into those bright blue eyes.

“Hey.”

“Your worrying woke me.” She’s teasing but she knows him too well.

“Sorry. I’ve got watch this morning but I’ll bet there’s a pharmacy in that little town we passed through on our way here six days ago.”

She nods thoughtfully. “They’d probably have what I need…just to be safe.”

The morning-after pill. He can’t get her pregnant. Not yet. Not until they’re somewhere really safe assuming she’d even want that. He’ll work up his nerve to ask one day.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“Shhhh.” She presses a finger to his lips and she’s smiling at him with so much tenderness it makes his chest ache. “It’s okay. We’re in this together, right?”

“Right. No matter what, we’re together. I’ll ask Arya to cover my watch and head there asap.”

“Not without me, you won’t.”

He starts to argue because he hates for her to be in danger. Towns and cities are always risky. But she also saved his ass three weeks ago and, when push comes to shove, she’s a better shot than she gives herself credit for.

“I’ll tell Robb and we’ll take Ghost.”

He kisses her before tugging on his boots, opening the flap of their tent and stepping out into the frosty morning. He breathes the autumn air in deeply and helps her to her feet when she comes to join him. Their hands are twined together.

“You know I love you, right?”

“I know,” she answers, smiling as she lays her head on his shoulder. “You know I love you, too, right?”

“I do.”

They stand and listen to the birds chirping their morning greetings to each other for a few minutes before getting to business.

For a world turned to shit, it’s a beautiful day and he’s happy. Maybe they won’t even have to deal with any walkers today. A guy can hope.

[frain-breeze]

Eric Robles liked my picture of me working at frosty mart 🥺❤️ The man himself, thank you!! 😭❤️

[kylebloodworththomason]

If you're still doing headcanon stuff, maybe Fanboy?

HELLO IM OSCAR AND WELCOME TO FANBOY FROM FANBOY AND CHUM CHUM. surprisingly i dont have many opinions on him even though hes the main character even over chum chum who i adore AND MY FRIEND KINS

Sexuality Headcanon: unpopular opinion possibly but i think hes gay

Gender Headcanon: he has the right to be trans...i mean why else would he have boy in his fucking name. maybe  transmasc ? idk it’s all up to fanboy from fanboy an chum chum....not me....fanboy decides the gender

A ship I have with said character: I mean! LOL! Fankyle even though i dont like it THAT much like they are just like that. fanboy and kyle voice yeah we gay keep scrolling

A BROTP I have with said character: cringe but oz is dad. oz is dad. oz is dad. also i like it when he and chum chum and lenny and boog do stuff together. just chilling as it were! i mean i love lenny and i love it when it gets busy at the frosty mart and the gay employee gets mean but. and i prefer it when boog is like i will punch you oh wait you want to commit crime? i love crimes!!!! (bops) i just want fanboy to commit atrocities. ALSO THAT PIG THE PIG FROM THE EPISODE WITH THE PIG I FORGET THE PIG EPISODE STUFF BUT. PIG TIME!!!!

A NOTP I have with said character: well yo and fanboy...ew.....and the obvious stuff...thats really it! not to bring up gryffindorlily but ive seen some nasty amvs on her channel and EURGHH. big fan of the skater boy fankyle video though.

A random headcanon: AUTISM. anyway he brings a million frogs back to the fanlair every day even when theyre not in season and so there are so many frogs hopping around the fanlair at all times and sometimes the pig eats them and chum chum cries but fanboy is like “it’s okay chum chum. it’s the circle of life.” then a frog hops directly into the pigs mouth and chum chum cries harder

General Opinion over said character: I’m...not the biggest fan of him. i dont DISLIKE him but i think he could be WAYYY more enjoyable ESPECIALLY if the entire series didnt like revolve around him. also i want him to be angry it’s so fucking funny that hes like yes kyle i do love to kill people. i want to be a supervillain who murders people including chum chum. hes just a kid full of sooooo much anger and violent glee. and i like how he is in like night morning and stuff where hes like just like *IS A WEIRDO* and fangboy and stuff. idk. he hits different in some episodes

[its-rat-time-babey]

Because I’m insane I decided to watch Fanboy and Chum Chum for the lore. Just watch the entire series and see what I can find.

Especially since Fanboy and Chum Chum are connected to Glitch Techs, with both shows being a part of the same multiverse. Just in Glitch Techs, smaller elements like the Freezy Mart exist in the show AND Fanboy and Chum Chum themselves are confirmed to exist as their names appear on the scoreboard in the Hinobi Smash competition, which means that Fanboy and Chum Chum do exist, but they probably go by their real names in the Glitch Techs universe and “Fanboy and Chum Chum” are just gamertags.

Things I have learned so far (just finished season 1):

This is a completely very different timeline and universe compared to Glitch Techs or our universe as comparison. Many things are different.

For example, the USA in this universe only has 8 states. For reference, the US was originally settled with 9 states, so at some point in time they lost one.

Fanboy and Chum Chum takes place in 2004. Glitch techs takes place in 1998.

Fanboy and Chum Chum’s real names are Tobias and Edmund.

Fanboy is anywhere from 17-18 years old. Chum Chum is (seemingly) two years younger at 15-16 years old. This is because they’re in 5th Grade (5th Graders are usually 10-11 years old) and Fanboy mentions that they’re been held back for 5 years, including the current year. Fanboy specifically also mentions being held back twice in kindergarten, but that’s exclusive to him.

All of the weird stuff Fanboy and Chum Chum can do comes from Chum Chum. Chum Chum has the power and Fanboy can also use it because he’s Chum Chum’s best friend. Oz is also friends with Chum Chum and can do similar things, but to a lesser degree because he’s not as close to Chum Chum as Fanboy. Yo gains Chum Chum-like abilities basically as soon as Fanboy temporarily gives Chum Chum to her, and on top of that Fanboy seemingly loses his abilities until he’s reunited with Chum Chum. Chum Chum is the source of like 90% of the show’s weirdness.

Fanboy is a Lance Corporal, aka the highest non-enlisted rank of the us military.

The Norse gods are real in this universe. I’m not kidding.

With the previous information, Chum Chum is very likely a Norse giant. I’m also not kidding.

Fanboy and Chum Chum both have glass eyes. Fanboy’s left and Chum Chum’s right eyes are fake. My personal conspiracy theory is that Chum Chum pulled an Odin some time in the past (as Odin is a real person who actually exists in this universe) and sacrificed one of his eyes for forbidden knowledge and that’s why he’s so powerful. Fanboy may have done the same as a sort of blood oath to his and Chum Chum’s friendship, hence why he has access to so much of Chum Chum’s power.

The creators of Fanboy and Chum Chum must have already had the idea for Glitch Techs even when this show was first being made. You can find all sorts of stuff in here that connects to the 2015 Pitch Bible for Glitch Techs. Yo’s Tamagotchi has a character identical to Chomp Kitty on it, characters that look extremely similar to Five and Miko’s Pitch Bible designs show up in an in-universe commercial, hell a character that looks extremely similar to Agent 68, a character who is only found in the Glitch Techs Pitch Bible (Either getting remade into Inspector 7 or even the Tech Inspector in “I’m Mitch Williams” later during development or being someone who would have appeared in season 3) shows up physically. They had the ideas all there to begin with.

Hinobi as we know it in Glitch Techs doesn’t exist in the way that we know it, but it does exist under a different name and purpose. Instead of Hinobi the video game company, it’s a (so far unnamed) Toy Company (that also owns the Frosty Mart in some way). My logic here is that:

Chomp Kitty on a tamagotchi. Obviously.

That character that looks like Agent 68 is an “Agent” of the unnamed toy company, in this case an inspector sent to reclaim some recalled toys. He’s also the head of security for the Frosty Mart’s company, so the Frosty Mart is probably owned by this alternate reality Hinobi in some way.

The few arcade machines and video games seen so far work perfectly fine, but many toys, especially any toy with mechanical parts have a tendency to break and act somewhat similarly to glitches.

There’s an episode where that Chomp Kitty Tamagotchi breaks and Fanboy and Chum Chum attempt to repair it by throwing it into a grave that’s been said to fix stuff that’s been left there. This results in the toy basically Glitch Techs style glitching and repeatedly trying to kill Fanboy and Chum Chum. Hell once they destroy the Tamagotchi completely a ghostly version of it almost identical to a Glitch from Glitch Techs forces itself through their TV. It’s even easily distracted by stuff from its original tamagotchi game like a glitch would be.

So my theory is that Hinobi in this universe is a toy company. Their toys can be extremely dangerous under the right conditions, especially if something goes wrong and they glitch in some way, Fanboy breaks the arm off of a robot toy by accident and every other robot in the area tries to kill him for example, and that Tamagotchi specifically is so much closer to a glitch techs glitch because it’s the closest this alternative universe Hinobi has to a video game.

Again, I am completely insane.

[rotomblr-island]

We need to know who on the island likes red hot chilli peppers

went on a long and stupid journey for you, anon.

sylvan: doesn't like it at all

N: doesn't like it at all

intern: doesn't like it at all

shallahi: doesn't like it at all

cider: doesn't like it at all

yin: doesn't like it at all

paris: doesn't like it at all

petrichor: doesn't like it at all

maple: doesn't like it at all

kopi: doesn't like it at all

cass: doesn't really like it

milas: doesn't really like it

dave: doesn't really like it

jaime: doesn't like it at all

nemona: doesn't like it at all

zita: doesn't like it at all

clive: doesn't really like it

dray: doesn't like it at all

aster: doesn't like it at all

axel: doesn't like it at all

toby: doesn't like it at all

meta: doesn't really like it

pandoria: doesn't like it at all

cora: doesn't like it at all

peridot: doesn't like it at all

win: doesn't like it at all

rogue: doesn't like it at all

squid: doesn't really like it

darrin: doesn't like it at all

KC: doesn't like it at all

miku: doesn't like it at all

blue: doesn't like it at all

honey: doesn't like it at all

tommy: doesn't like it at all

sprite: doesn't like it at all

lime: doesn't like it at all

cynthia: doesn't really like it

stars: doesn't like it at all

blake: doesn't really like it

hesper: doesn't like it at all

luci: doesn't like it at all

ren: doesn't like it at all

dig: doesn't like it at all

chrys: doesn't like it at all

mai: doesn't really like it

trai: doesn't like it at all

roark: doesn't like it at all

elle: doesn't like it at all

red: doesn't like it at all

rodney: doesn't like it at all

mart: doesn't really like it

lily: doesn't like it at all

neri: doesn't really like it

vanilla: doesn't like it at all

frosty: doesn't like it at all

connie: doesn't like it at all

anthea: doesn't like it at all

maya: doesn't like it at all

wallace: doesn't like it at all

steven: doesn't really like it

kohaku: doesn't like it at all

poppy: doesn't really like it

kittsu: doesn't like it at all

reuniclus: doesn't like it at all

lumi: doesn't like it at all

pol: doesn't like it at all

CD: doesn't like it at all

bugsy: doesn't like it at all

boo: doesn't like it at all

amy: doesn't like it at all

shilo: doesn't like it at all

cooper: doesn't like it at all

galatea: doesn't like it at all

tropius: doesn't like it at all

gen: doesn't like it at all

LR: doesn't like it at all

sephy: doesn't really like it

marshall: doesn't like it at all

wyverlyn: all-time favorite!

jesse: doesn't like it at all

lace: doesn't like it at all

aero: doesn't like it at all

skitty: doesn't like it at all

cerise: doesn't like it at all

hilda: doesn't like it at all

cerese: doesn't like it at all

crispin: doesn't like it at all

sword: doesn't like it at all

[metaphortunes]

Howdy friends, I’ve written a few short stories that I wanted to throw out into the ether. And I went back and tagged all my previous writing posts with the tag “metaphortune writes” for easy finding!

Here’s a short story about small towns, the priorities of young people, the sweetness of summer, and siblings. I didn’t edit it at all so my apologies in advance for any grammar failures!

The Big Slush machine went out on Sunday, April 14th, 2005. If we’re being honest here, it was the only reason my sister and I went to Johnson’s Fuel Mart. Their soda fountain tasted like it dumped about as much plastic into every cup as it did soda syrup. Their candy was tremendously overpriced, they had 1 brand of chips, Big Harold’s, and they cleaned the floors about once every 2 years. But the Big Slushes were heaven.

Suffice to say, April 14th was the end of an era for us. Each passing week we drifted farther and farther from knowing those floors like the back of our hands. Our ability to use the Big Slush machine with surgical precision faded and we reverted to slushie peasants. Mona, the main evening clerk slowly forgot our names, and our allowances stayed in our pockets more than ever.

One Tuesday, July 14th, I walked to Frantz Park down on Alpine Road. The benches were covered in droplets of a syrupy, sappy resin from a tree I’d never learned the name of. After sitting on the 40-year-old swings for a while, rusty chains and all, I walked through the outfield of the baseball diamond.

There was a windstorm that blew through town on July 12th, so it was no surprise when, deep into center-field, I saw a few pieces of trash had blown into the grass. A 3ft long Walgreens receipt, a fast food wrapper, and the item that caught my attention. A full two months after the Big Slush machine went out, there it was. In pristine condition, a clear plastic Big Slush cup. 34 fluid ounces with a flared rim. No lid, no straw, just the cup.

Obviously, I was elated. I picked up the cup and started fast-walking home. Throughout the walk my mind was fixated on what I believed to be the one possible explanation for how the pristine Big Slush cup came to be there: somewhere in our 15 stoplight town, there was a new Big Slush machine.

Nora shared my enthusiasm for the cup, but was more skeptical of my hypothesis. Realistically speaking, there weren’t many other places that would’ve had the machine. Not to mention, would they have the good flavors? Blue Raspberry, White Cherry, and Cola? Would it even be worth it if the machine had the disappointment of Grape or the medicine taste of Strawberry? It was purely speculation, but our teenage minds raced.

The next day, geared up with a list of all the businesses we thought could have a Big Slush machine, we set out to find it. First, we walked up State Route 117 to the small grocery, Three Bear Market. No luck there, but they were having a sale on gum. Blowing giant, sticky bubbles, we walked to the next business. Cutting across the alley between State Route 117 and Terrence Street, we made it to McAllen’s Bakery. No luck there, but the owner was very nice and complimented our backpacks.

We took Terrence Street to Alpine Road and stopped for a short break at Frantz Park. The benches were still sappy, the swings were still rusty. Funny how things don’t change overnight. We walked the outfield of the baseball diamond looking for any other pieces of evidence, but alas, there was no trash to be found. That’s probably good in the grand scheme of things, but we were disappointed.

Walking through the streets with Nora was a slightly blissful experience. Not quite a full on sort of bliss where everything in the world is great and nothing ever hurts; but a soft, warm filter on everything. That’s the benefit of having a good relationship with your older sibling, having them around is like a blanket of security. Nothing can ever go THAT wrong when they’re with you.

We’d taken Alpine to First, then First to Reagan. On Reagan was the first gas station built in town, the Marathon, formerly known as the Brachston Pump Station. Marathon bought it up in 1996, installed all new pumps, remodeled the inside, and removed any character the building had had. Oh, and they didn’t have a Big Slush machine. Probably worth mentioning that.

From the Marathon on Reagan, we walked a block or so down the Walgreens. Walgreens having a slushie was a long shot, but didn’t pharmacies used to have soda fountains back in the day? It wasn’t THAT absurd. We wandered around the building to find exactly zero Big Slush machines. The clerks, disenchanted college dropouts, paid exactly zero attention to us.

The last place we tried was the only other gas station in town, Stop-N-Go. We had to walk the entire rest of the way down Reagan to where it dead-ended into Marshall Street and walk Marshall Street until it dead-ended into Montgomery Avenue. That all ends up being about a mile’s walk, but we were determined. We entered through the oddly heavy steel and glass door and asked the clerk. They didn’t have one.

However, the clerk, Henry, was also a fan. Or at least pretended to like them. As a favor to the owner, Henry worked one night at the other Stop-N-Go, about 4 miles away in Hallston back in 2003. He remembered them having a slushie machine, but couldn’t remember what type. We figured that even if it was there in 2003, it probably wasn’t there today, and slunk out of the store. But Henry came out after us and said “let me call the other store and ask them for you, alright?”

The clerk on the other end seemed very confused, but eventually was able to confirm the news we were so adamant on receiving: they had a Big Slush machine in working order! We expressed our joy and gratitude to Henry after he hung of the phone, he said he was “stoked it worked out for you.” We were stoked too, Henry.

We took Montgomery down to Fourth and ended up back home. Our parents wouldn’t be home from work for a few hours, which gave us time to plot exactly how we’d ask them to drive us 4 miles to go to a gas station. The plotting was all for naught, as they were tremendously unimpressed. “Next time we’re out that way, we’ll go” they said. But the reality of the situation was that we’d only been to Hallston a few times. It was in the opposite direction of Wrexham, the small city we’d go to from time to time.

Luckily, Nora remembered a fact that I had failed to remember. The rails-to-trails bike path that went through our town also went through Hallston. Neither of us were really that interested in biking, but if it meant getting a Big Slush? We’d have biked 20 miles one way. We got our bikes out for the first time in weeks that day, inflated the tires, tested our helmets, and set off.

Four miles is a hell of a bike ride when you haven’t biked in weeks. It was all flat land surrounded by farmer’s fields, but it was still 4 miles in the heat of July. Luckily, we had a frosty goal to keep our minds set on. Whenever we faltered or slowed down, the other would just say “Big Slush!!!” in a sort of TV commercial announcer voice. After a half an hour or so, we made it to the Hallston. Neither of us really knew where the Stop-N-Go was, but we fortune favored us. A Stop-N-Go fuel truck was stopping-n-going at the the traffic light near the bike path. We sped to follow it.

The truck took a left onto the state route and turned into the Stop-N-Go. Success! We found ourselves in the parking lot, shouting “Big Slush!!!” at each other in the aforementioned voice. We opened the surprisingly light (or just well maintained) steel and glass door and saw a large sign hanging from the ceiling that said “DRINKS” in Comic Sans. We walked towards the sign and found our holy grail. The Big Slush machine.

There it sat on a red counter, humming away and constantly rotating the slush inside. Condensation sat on the plastic windows to view each of the three flavors churning, and we parsed the flavor selection. Strawberry (aka medicine), Grape (aka disappointment), and White Cherry. As Meatloaf didn’t say: 1 out of 3 ain’t bad. But as we approached the machine, our hearts sunk. The White Cherry flavor was out of order.

We literally ran to the counter to ask the incredibly confused clerk what was happening and when it would be fixed. There was an error with the ratios of the newest White Cherry syrup batches which made the slushies too hard to fit through a straw. We begged the clerk to just turn it on and let us have some, we didn’t care that they’d be hard, we didn’t care how long it’d take, and we’d wait around; but the clerk refused.

Ultimately, we’d come too far for this to happen. We were going to drink a Big Slush and that was going to be the end of it. We swallowed our unhappiness and decided to get the flavors of medicine and disappointment. I got the Grape, Nora got the Strawberry. Honestly, they were not great. The Grape still tasted like the inside of a shoe, and the Strawberry still tasted like it was a slushie version of children’s liquid ibuprofen. But they still quenched a primal desire in us. Can you call a desire for a slushie a primal desire? Sure, why not.

The rest of the summer break, we’d bike to Hallston two or three times a week. Biking got easier each time we went, the rides got quicker, we had to shout “Big Slush!!!” at each other less. The White Cherry flavor never came back, but we learned to appreciate the Grape and Strawberry flavors. If we mixed the two, it almost tasted good for some reason. Grape and Strawberry isn’t exactly a combination you’d expect to taste cohesive and fulfilling, and yet, here we were.

Eventually the school year and extra-curriculars caught up with us and we were lucky to make it to the Hallston Stop-N-Go once a week. Our enthusiasm never waned, though. Each time, we hoped that they’d have finally gotten another flavor to replace the White Cherry, and yet, even a year after, they hadn’t. Strawberry and Grape. Medicine and Disappointment. Nora and Jamie.

[sleepy-verse]

Name: Xenon Ariel Utonium

Age: 17

Gender: Non-binary (Them/They/He/Him)

Sexuality: Homosexual

Birthday: May 21st

Race/Ethnicity: Causasian

Species: Chemical X/Chaos Realm Demon (by HIM's essence implanting in Bunny's DNA)/Superhero

Alignment: Asteria

Love Interest: Ravanna Daemon

Appearance: Xenon is a tall, slim boy with rather pale skin and light brown short hair. His mouth is covered by a black mask covering his fangs. He have purple colored eyes. He wore a blue-and-white tracksuit and track pant and grey converses. Each ear have 3 piercings. He inherit his father's eyes, ear shape, and nose. He have rosy cheeks, pointy ears, and purple claws when they shapeshift randomly with the teeth, thus is why he drank a concoction of Frosty Freezie Freeze Radioactive Red alters by Prof. Utonium (and weed) to conceal this ability of his so the public won't fear him because it will remind them of either HIM and Her.

Character owned by @froppy-butterflyfan2000

Powers/Abilities/Skills:

Basic Chemical X Super Powers

Heat Vision

X-ray Vision

Flight

Super Strength

Super Durablity

Super Speed

Acid Spit

Minor Shapeshifting: Only his teeth, cheeks, hands, and ears can changes.

Elasticity: Xenon possesses physiology similar to rubber or putty making him look like an old-fashioned cartoon, Xenon's attack patterns and movements are akin to it as well. He is extremely elastic and malleable, able to stretch her limbs and torso to great lengths and inflate body parts to strengthen his attacks. He uses this to increase the range of his attacks, able to reach enemies from a distance. He can also coil his extended limbs to form a spring with an inflated fist at the end. He even displayed the ability to become as flat as the ground and slither across it, in an almost semi-liquid like state. He can jump great distances and bounce off surfaces.

Weaknesses:

- He is not intelligence likes his dad.

- He is irresponsible.

Weapon(s): He only kicks not punches, so his legs. Punching will reveal his claws the more he keep punching.

Relatives:

Bunny (Mother)

Fanboy (Father)

Ariella Xandra Utonium (Twin Sister)

Blossom, Bubbles, Buttercup, and Bliss Utonium (Aunts)

Penelope, Dahlia, Orchid, Floyd, Loyla, Carol, Ryan, Drake, and Cheryl (Cousins)

Aksel Pines (Cousin-in-Law)

Background:

Xenon is the son of Bunny Utonium and Fanboy. He and his sister were under the custody of his grandfather, the Professor and was homeschooled by them because he does not see Fanboy as a great and responsible father, after getting to know him. His mother lived with him. While his father is in his life, but lives in a trailer park, and works at Townsville Distinct Frosty-Mart. Blossom Utonium decided to have Xenon be in a group to hones his skills as a hero after developing his skills as solo hero for 3 years.

Personality:

An aloof and somewhat creepy person, but he is also very cool-headed and lack of intelligent.

He cannot keep himself composed even under the confinement circumstances as he face things with an emotional approach.

Xenon loves pulling pranks.

He admired his father’s heroic nature, and the idea of heroes in general. He aspired to be a hero everyone could look up to and rely on, and when he turned fourteen he began getting into active hero work under his father’s teachings, but then it cut shortly as it shift to his aunt Blossom's teaching. 

Xenon tends to not read the situations he encounters, ultimately leading him to make irrational decisions, he is loyal to those he holds dear, willing to help them, even if that means taking the thorny path. Eventually, he resolves himself to be faithful and protective of the ones that he cares most about.

Trivia:

- He is the second Chemical X Super to joins Asteria.

- He and his sister are the only Puffs who parents are not married.

- He is the only Puff who did not wear his mother's signature color.

- Hero Costume:

- Origin of him being less than 25% demon: Professor Utonium made a deal with HIM to help him bring back Bunny. But HIM double cross him and Bunny was turned evil and was sided with RRBs. She almost die twice when HIM decided he have no use in her until the love from her family saves her life. As it turned out that even though Bunny is not a demon hybrid anymore and is out of HIM's hypnotizing control, HIM implanted part of his own "essence" within her DNA in hope Bunny come back to him as his minion. Though Bunny herself never felt it once she got free, somehow they ended up getting passed down to her children (Xenon and Ariella) years later... And only in them did the powers finally start to activate once they got older. The essence was buried so deep within their DNA, there was no known way to cure Xenon and Ariella without potentially hurting them at the same time. The temporary solution is giving them a special blend of Frosty Freezie Freeze to conceal it for 24-48 hours.

[bezgoesboo]

––  m i c   t a p !    “ an’... ohp !  we’re live ! ”    

               r u s t l e   r u s t l e . . .   

“ well, if you’re listenin’, welcome to another episode of witchin’ hour, in which i’ll do a real valiant job of wastin’ your precious time. 

                             we got the tunes, we got the loons, and the night’s fresher                              than a pack of fuckin’ mini mart twinkies. yep. i’m bez.                                                              whaddya say we get jinkie with it ? ”

or, alternatively:  my name is linc, this is bez holmes, and i hope you brought your schnazziest seatbelts ‘cause, oh bud... you’re in for quite the trip.

( timothee chalamet, ghost, he/him & cismale ) is that ( another one bites the dust ) by ( queen ) playing? guess ( killian beelzebub holmes)’s comin’ in hot! heard folks say the ( twenty three ) year old ( local radio host ) was at the thanksgiving fair, ( throwin’ darts at the balloon wall with his buds ) when chaos ensued. during the glitch, ( he was killed by one of his best supernatural pals he was tryin’ to talk down while everyone else was bookin’ it to the woods, but ain’t the faintest clue he’s dead… yikes ).

b a c k g r o u n d    .  .  .

the autumn of 1959 brought the youngest holmes sibling into existence and knocked out their mother in one fell swoop. killian beelzebub holmes was born to mr. holmes and his late wife at precisely 3:33am just before an uncharacteristically frosty dusk.

mrs. holmes chose the name killian long before her second-born ever killed her, so... heh !  joke’s on her !  bez’s pops didn’t have the heart to call him *cough* er, killian, so the family settled for the next best thing so they could still honor his mother’s wishes: beelzebub. except... well. that still was a lil problematic, given the timing of his birth. and callin’ beelzebub on class attendance? not exactly the best look. hence, the nickname bez was born, and he’s been goin’ by it ever since.

bez has an older sister lee and the two are as thick as thieves. growin’ up, they always kept their father on his toes –– wherever the holmes kids go, trouble follows.

mr. holmes served as county sheriff until he was killed by his second wife when bez was 13 and lee was 14. lee went back to art school after the local police department covered up the bear out as a fuckin’ armed robbery gone wrong. lee ‘n bez were sworn to secrecy, but nothin’, not even authoritative men in police badges, can erase the image of stepmonster slashin’ dad to bits and lettin’ him fall face first into a plate of spaghetti.

bez never liked stepmonster to begin with, but killin’ their dad was the kicker. lee returned to art school and bez struggled to keep the peace in the household. the bitch stepped up the loving stepma act until a year later, when she wigged out again ‘n landed him in the hospital for a couple days. after that, lee returned home, ‘n it was officially holmes vs. mama bear.

movin’ out was the dream, but unfortunately, mr. holmes overextended when he bought this nice shiny new house for his new wife ‘n kids; most of his insurance money went to getting the house out from underwater, ‘n the rest went to funeral expenses. so... the kids were kinda stuck with her. still are.

bez never let himself be stupid enough to dream ‘bout leavin’ letum falls. he likes it here. he’s got his people. throughout school, he romped ‘round with the cool kids. hung out with all the supernaturals. in fact, you’d be hard pressed to find bez holmes chillin’ ‘round anyone who’s actually human. contrary to his sister, his father’s death didn’t turn him off from supernaturals –– if anythin’, it made him desperate to prove to himself just what a wildcard stepmonster was.

after high school graduation, bez pestered his way into workin’ at the local radio station. what started as a simple soundboarding gig morphed into hostin’ his very own show, the witchin’ hour, on which he talks about letum falls’ spooky happenings and engages with live callers. he’s got a sleep with me bit –– callers name celebrities, fictional characters, or even existing locals bez has to seduce via song and cheesy pickup lines. basically, the whole show’s a hangout with bez –– more often ‘n not, he’s high as a bird. so the witchin’ hour’s got itself a steady cult of listeners. bez loves every second of it.

he’s got a reputation for bein’ sexually ambiguous. he was outcasted pretty young as bein’ a lil... off? never into sports. liked to paint his nails colors sometimes. borrow lee’s shirts. his dad never raised issue with it, but stepmonster definitely had her reservations. still does. bez holmes is a kid some fathers told their sons to steer clear of. for fear of, bez’ll laugh as he tells ya, spreadin’ it around.

labels are for chumps, he’ll tell ya, mid-cigarette drag. size y’up real good. odds are, if you’re attractive ‘n mysterious in some way, he’ll fuck ya. ( not countin’  six months of abstinence in 1980 when he was convinced everyone he fucked wound up dyin’ two weeks later... there were a string of incidental deaths. but honestly, sometimes ?  he thinks ‘bout it. )

fuckin’ klutz. yeah, he skateboards. yeah, he looks cool doin’ it. yeah, he’ll even wear his shades while he’s doin’ it at night. but surprise him? make him laugh? he’ll trip over his own two feet.

addicted to cinnamon waffles, enough syrup to drown atlantis a second time. he always haunts the local diner. when he’s not there, he’s likely playin’ pinball or skeeball at the local arcade, or slurpin’ down a rootbeer float and annoyin’ the living shit outta earl at the mini mart.

if it’s illegal? sign him up.

he owns a shit ton of thrifted clothes. lots of chunky jackets, v-necks, rings, necklaces. funky pants. he’s recognized around town by his crazy curls. they’re never tame. he’s always lookin’ artfully disheveled. smirkin’. stealin’ looks.

t h e    f a i r     .  .  .

bez was hangin’ out with his supernatural buds ( wanted connections )when all hell broke loose. he was actually makin’ a fool of himself with balloon darts, but he made a ten buck bet he could win a stupid hat.

while everyone else ran, bez tried to talk down one particular friend ( wanted connection ) who was tryna keep themselves from attackin’ him. he got so far as to get ‘em calm, place a hand on their shoulder. lean in to look ‘em in the eye real close. 

“ hey man, hey now. listen. y’don’t gotta do this. killin’ ain’t punk, ‘kay? y’hate blood, hear me? i believe in you, ‘n even though you serve killer looks –– you’re not a killer. ”

even in the face of death, this kid fuckin’ joked around, and... basically this friend slashes his throat and ripped his heart out right after bez managed a hopeful smile. talk ‘bout a magical fuckin’ friendship.

lee and dean hollis took bez’s body with them when they fled the scene.

bez woke up a few days later in the woods near the fairgrounds. he wandered ‘n wandered, almost in a sleep-like trance, ‘til he reached dean’s house. walked in, blinked right at the guy. they exchanged words, albeit bitter ones, before bez left and walked on over to the radio station. did his show like normal, like he’d never even died. no memory of the glitch. no nothin’. 

heads on over to earl’s mini mart like usual. but earl won’t check him out. earl isn’t hearin’ him. so he fuckin’ leaves with a bag of doritos and a big bottle of mountain dew. runs into his boyfriend, xander chapell. all’s fine ‘n well. he’s overjoyed to see the other male. everythin’s normal.

the next mornin’, he slinks home. finds lee cryin’ in her room. pieces it together and thinks it must be dean hollis. must be ‘cause of that asshole.

c u r r e n t l y    .  .  .

ain’t nobody got the heart to tell this poor kid he died. he’s dead. and since he doesn’t know he’s a ghost ?  he thinks wakin’ up near hose weird ass woods, near the fairgrounds ? it’s all a dream. he thinks the worsened insomnia ? ah. that’s just the weather. ‘n when his hand sometimes goes through things ? when people sometimes don’t see him ? some witch is probably havin’ trouble controllin’ their abilities.

stepmomma has a hunch bez’s spirit might be hauntin’ the house. she keeps tryna sage it. tryna figure out what’s gonna help get her stepson to the beyond. ‘cept bez doesn’t know this, and lee’s playin’ damage control.

he’s still so hopelessly in love with xander, but neither of these two goons have actually shared that with one another. it’s all in the looks. the touches. and now... there’s an added bonus that bez is dead –– technically a goner, unless he never resolves whatever’s keepin’ him here. which, y’know. he won’t. ‘cause he’s got no clue.

can he please get a waffle ?  now some of the waitstaff won’t serve him at the diner ! the fuckin’ nerve !  it’s really okay because he’s got duffy ‘n georgia there to help him out. but damn. no one’s ever been this cold ‘cause of his off-color humor before. what’d he do ?  lord knows.

weird shit’s happenin’. people in town are actin’ strange. something’s up. but then again, somethin’ always is. so bez doesn’t mind it. keeps on hummin’ his stupid tunes. carries on with his show. the radio station producers are scared shitless ‘cause like... this dead kid keeps goin’ on the air. what kinda cruel joke is this, huh ?

c u r r e n t     c o n n e c t i o n s  .  .  .

older sister – lee holmes.  the holmes kids are revered and feared. always up to somethin’... tragic, what happened to ‘em, but lordie. that dead sheriff raised some weird kids.

low key love of his life – xander chapelle.  they started dating a few months ago and bez... never... expected... this. he ain’t the feelings type, no sir. but xander lights somethin’ in him. somethin’ new. yeesh. now you’ve got him all fluttery.

chaos crew – maya shen.  partners in crime, in an endless pacman and pinball war. they’ll beat one another’s scores back ‘n forth and back ‘n forth, never ending. bez is fascinated by maya’s family line ‘n all. she’s great to have ‘round, too, when he’s got a hankering for a cig but needs a decent light.

row, row, row your boat the fuck away from me – dean hollis.  dude was pretty cool, ‘til y’know... he fuckin’ dumped his feelin’s on lee and skipped town. yeah, football. yeah, nfl. cool beans, huh? what’d he have to go and fuck with his sister’s heart for? and now that he’s back and lee’s actin’ weird... bez knows he’s the cause of it for sure. and he doesn’t like it one bit.

grew up together – georgia duchannes.  bez, lee, ‘n georgia all grew up peas in a pod. mr. duchannes took over the role as sheriff because he sniffed somethin’ fishy goin’ on in the department and wanted to protect bez ‘n lee. bez gets a real kick outta georgia, ‘n folks even thought he had a crush on her back in the day. which is hilarious. ‘cause everyone ‘n their mother always knew georgia’d end up with vanetten.

the case he’s gonna crack – teejay vanetten.  bez always liked vanetten, thought he was a chill guy, y’know? a lil’ vanilla, but hey. not everyone can be as ace as him. the dude’s always been a lil’ defensive around bez though, ‘cause of georgia. bez thinks it’s funny. plays into it sometimes, just to get a rise outta him. after the glitch, it becomes clear teejay’s goin’ through something not human, so bez is tryna get lee on board to help this guy figure out his shit.

w a n t e d    c o n n e c t i o n s    .

the best supernatural friend who killed him.  bonus points if things get, like. real fuckin’ angsty.

past hookups.  bez has gotten around. guys, gals, non-binary pals. sex is sex.

supernatural kool krew.  this squad has a runs with wolves kinda vibe. bez might be the glue that holds it together. keepin’ up with supernaturals as a human, though? fuckin’ full time job.

avid radio listeners / callers.   i... would love for some routine callers? maybe some peeps he knows from around town who he has ongoin’ banter with on the air?

goofy gays.  all the gay vibes, just... we need a power gay squad mmkay?

enemies.  i’m sure bez is on a lot of people’s shit lists. he speaks his mind. he goes outta his way to be a nuisance. but he’d just find this whole thing abso-fuckin-lutely hilarious.

music jam peeps.  music is a huge part of bez’s everyday life. he listens to bands more than he listens to people. ‘n he dabbles in some musical shit himself. piano, some songwritin’ here ‘n there. nothin’ too major, but it’d be cool to have some pals who also feel as connected to music as him. he does, after all, run a radio show.

post-glitch connections.   dude roams ‘round letum falls a lot now. he did before, too, but maybe there are some people who knew of him but didn’t know him before who’re now startin’ to talk with him? ‘cause they can see he’s a ghost, ‘n they feel bad? i dunno. at this point, bez is startin’ to yammer on ‘n on to whoever’s gonna listen. maybe they just see one another in odd ass places. like earl’s mini mart. or the arcade. or maybe this person’s willin’ to speak to someone for him when they’re doin’ that stupid ass ignorin’ game again.

[rabbit-light]

Shopping for Pomegranates at Wal-Mart on New Year’s Day

Beneath a ten-foot-tall apparition of Frosty the Snowman with his corncob pipe and jovial, over-eager, button-black eyes, holding, in my palm, the leathery, wine-colored purse of a pomegranate, I realize, yet again, that America is a country about which I understand everything and nothing at all, that this is life, this ungovernable air in which the trees rearrange their branches, season after season, never certain which configuration will bear the optimal yield of sunlight and water, the enabling balm of nutrients, that so, too, do Wal-Mart’s ferocious sales managers relentlessly analyze their end-cap placement, product mix, and shopper demographics, that this is the culture in all its earnestness and absurdity, that it never rests, that each day is an eternity and every night is New Year’s Eve, a cavalcade of B-list has-beens entirely unknown to me, needy comedians and country singers in handsome Stetsons, sitcom stars of every social trope and ethnic denomination, pugilists and oligarchs, femmes fatales and anointed virgins throat-slit in offering to the cannibal throng of Times Square. Who are these people? I grow old. I lie unsleeping as confetti falls, ash-girdled, robed in sweat and melancholy, click-shifting from QVC to reality TV, strings of commercials for breath freshener, debt reconsolidation, a new car lacking any whisper of style or grace, like a final fetid gasp from the lips of a dying Henry Ford, potato-faced actors impersonating real people with real opinions offered forth with idiot grins in the yellow, herniated studio light, actual human beings, actual souls bought too cheaply. That it never ends, O Lord, that it never ends! That it is relentless, remorseless, and it is on right now. That one sees it and sees it but sometimes it sees you, too, cowering in a corner, transfixed by the crawler for the storm alert, home videos of faces left dazed by the twister, the car bomb, the war always beginning or already begun, always the special report, the inside scoop, the hidden camera revealing the mechanical lives of the sad, inarticulate people we have come to know as “celebrities.” Who assigns such value, who chose these craven avatars if not the miraculous hand of the marketplace, whose torn cuticles and gaudily painted fingernails resemble nothing so much as our own? Where does the oracle reveal our truths more vividly than upon that pixillated spirit glass unless it is here, in this tabernacle of homely merchandise, a Copernican model of a money-driven universe revolving around its golden omphalos, each of us summed and subtotalled, integers in an equation of need and consumption, desire and consummation, because Hollywood had it right all along, the years are a montage of calendar pages and autumn leaves, sheet music for a nostalgic symphony of which our lives comprise but single trumpet blasts, single notes in the hullabaloo, or even less—we are but motes of dust in that atmosphere shaken by the vibrations of time’s imperious crescendo. That it never ends, O Lord. That it goes on, without pause or cessation, without pity or remorse. That we have willed it into existence, dreamed it into being. That it is our divine monster, our factotum, our scourge. That I can imagine nothing more beautiful than to propitiate such a god upon the seeds of my own heart.

Campbell McGrath