#no spend till brooklyn

[nospendtillbrooklyn]

Pausing a No Buy, Failing a No Buy: Belated. Because I suck at consistency

It’s been a minute since I updated. This is for a couple of reasons. The first, and most important is that I suck at consistency. I get distracted easily (I do have ADHD after all) but I also get busy with my life, with work and I run out of bandwidth to write about my experiences. Which I think is actually kind of a shame because I’ve had some really interesting experiences around the no-buy. The second reason for the lack of updates is that I attended an art show a couple of weeks ago and immediately upon coming home came down with covid. It sucked. I spent 7 days basically a zombie. Between the virus causing fatigue (like going let the dogs out to go potty and need a two hour nap fatigue) and the cold medicine induced fuege state I basically became one with my couch for a week. And the week after while I was testing negative, and didn’t have any of the worst symptoms I was still struggling with the fatigue.

But I’m recovered. And living my life (okay I am really just catching up on work after two weeks of covid related crud.) So let’s talk about the No Buy.

Originally when I set out to do my No Buy, it was the beginning of August. I set the original intention to be two weeks. Just to see if I could really do that. As I dove in, after a week I extended it to September 21st. I chose that date because it was roughly 6 weeks from the official start of my No Buy, and because it was during a trip surrounding my exhibition at the art festival. And I love me a gift shop, y’all. So I knew that would pose a challenge of different kinds for me. So I wanted the option to be done, and not beat myself up if I bought some souvenirs. As my No Buy progressed I realized I wanted to extend it till December, December 31st specifically. So I made some choices.

The first was that on September 21st I paused the No Buy. I was in a beautiful, incredible place and I was so tempted and struggling with Not Buying Things. Especially since the town I was in is almost entirely supported by summer tourism, which was coming to a close. So I compromised. I paused the No Buy as that was my original end date. What I found was that I did not want to buy all the gimmicky teeshirts and things in the past I might have been tempted by. My brain was recognizing, acknowledging that I have plenty of clothes (I am by no means a clothes addict, but I have plenty of clothes and could stand to have a few less… especially tee shirts.) But what I did buy was stickers, and post cards to put into my scrapbook journal as a means to document my experiences. I bought a beautiful artistic map print of the absolutely stunning wilderness that surrounded this quaint little mountain town. And one bandanna that had a beautiful print. All of which I think would constitute a failure for my No Buy, which was why I paused it.

Did I need to? I am not sure I did. I think I might have been okay not buying the things I did. I didn’t -have- to buy them, I had no real genuine need of them. But they were fun, cool and I collect stickers to put into my scrapbook journal and onto water bottles etc. I think my No Buy might be more authentic had I not paused it. But I felt so proud of myself that how I spent money that weekend was almost exclusively on food (required because I was staying in a hotel so there was no cooking option.) I did not buy anything for my service dog (look his collection of collars is extensive, I buy a lot of things for him… that he does not need.) I did not buy any fun tee shirts. I didn’t spend frivolously on expensive meals, mostly because I would purchase a lunch, eat half and take the rest back to my hotel to heat up later. I toured the little shops of the town, and I saw some art, and things that I really liked and would genuinely have enjoyed in my home… but I recognized they weren’t things I needed in my home. I have more art then can fit on the walls of my small house. I have more books and  tchotchkes then can fit on the bookshelves I have. (One of the many reasons books are expressly forbidden in my No Buy my TBR is impressively stacked.) Something has definitely changed with in my brain about shopping. But I am not perfect.

I did Fail. I booked a photosession for myself and my horse. I have almost no photos of the two of us together. I’ve recently lost 30 pounds and don’t have any good headshots for my business site. I thought this was a good opportunity to congratulate myself on the weight-loss, and get some decent photos. But I realized about an hour after I booked the session; this was not a need. I don’t HAVE to do this. There is no dire pressing need that couldn’t wait till next spring after the No Buy is scheduled to be finished (more on this later.) I confessed this failure to my accountability buddy (who is not my partner, though my partner is also part of my accountability.) And I felt bad about it for quite a while. I could have canceled it and forfeit the deposit. But that didn’t seem the right thing to do either. So I told my partner I would write about this failure, and what happened during and how my brain simply did not recognize it was a failure until after the fact.

The photographer had placed an add, I follow them because they happen to live on the property where I board my horse. They help out around the barn, and her work is honestly beautiful. It has a very modern western flare, and she is always taking photos of the boarders and their horses. She was advertising mini sessions on site. And I thought “man I’d love some photos of me and Horse.” (His name is not ‘Horse’ though it would be funny if it was, but this is a place anonymity and my horse’s name is fairly recognizable to any one who knows me, or of me.) Next thing I knew I had paid a deposit. I wasn’t even aware of it until it was over. And it took my partner pointing out ‘did this break your No Buy?” for me to even realize: yes, yes it did.

Immediately I felt sick. What the hell happened? How did I simply skip out on recognizing this behavior as a violation of the No Buy? How did I just make this decision and not think twice about it? I spiraled through the dark thoughts of this invalidating the entire project. I swam in dark waters of beating myself up, and kicking my mental ass. Raking my psyche over the coals of ‘ you are a failure!’ My heart raced and racked my brain to figure out HOW I let this happen.

The reality is that the reason I made this choice was because one of the things I have done through out myself is ‘treat myself.’ I treat myself when I am feeling good, and when I am feeling bad. Shopping was used as a means to measure ‘rewarding myself’ for things, or making myself feel better. Now this is a learned behavior, both of my partners have throughout my life done this for their children and themselves. It’s a behavior that was modeled to me very young from my grandmother(s) as well. So I come by it honestly. But I need to break this cycle. This is the part of my No Buy that is going to be hardest, because what I bought wasn’t a material good (which I clearly have already gotten much more adapt at avoiding) I did not connect that the behavior was the same at it’s core. That ‘treating myself’ is going to be the biggest thing I have to unlearn in my journey to under consumption, environmental conscious consumption and just having Less Stuff.

So what did I do? I’ve kept the appointment. Because I did not want to forfeit the deposit. Because the photos will have use and purpose in my life and my career. But I also added to my mental checklist about reasons I am spending money. And I went back and redoubled my consumption of books and online content (y’all youtube is free and invaluable to help reprogram your brain, also podcasts are free) that helps me stay in the head space of Not Buying Stuff. I don’t know that I will post the photos here. Annonymity is important to me in this space, at this moment.

Things like this are valuable lessons in a No Buy journey. Because things like this are where you do learn what triggers your spending, and what you need to do to consciously reprogram your brain to avoid these things effecting your wallet. Is it a lesson I needed? I don’t want to say yes and have it feel like I’m justifying what I did. But the truth is, I am not sure I would have realized that trigger point any other way. I was genuinely unaware of how I was failing my No Buy in the moments where I signed up for this photoshoot. It was entirely blocked in my mind and it was only later, with an outside perspective, that I recognized what really transpired in that transaction. I can be more mindful going forward, something I am not sure I would have really recognized with out that failure. It’s not justifiable, and I owe it to this blog and the honor of my No Buy to be truthful in confessing how I failed. But hopefully the lesson I’ve taken away it will serve me going forward.

And forward I shall go. Right now the No Buy is scheduled to end December 31st. But I have already discussed with my partner extending it to a full year, so August 2025 would be the end. They have very wisely pointed out I should focus on getting to the end of this year first (I am very prone to “if a little is good, a lot is going to be great…” right up into injury and catastrophe.) But the longer this goes on, the more I want to enter a lifestyle that emphasizes the principals of a No Buy. I want to simply LIVE this way. That when I do purchase something non-essential it’s conscious, it’s intentional and it serves me and not serves just buying something. I want to live this way because it’s better for the Earth and our struggling environment. I want to live this way because I want to someday own land for my horse, and to be a farmer again (I grew up on a horse farm.) I want to live this way because my partner and I want to live in a 500sq foot home with out a life burdened by Things. So while officially this No Buy will end December 31st. I think it’s going to end up being extended again. And from there? Maybe I can simply just finally change my behavior to be a conscious consumer of very little things. I want to live this way because my rig has 202,000+ miles on it and will not live forever, and a car payment is going to make a giant impact on my budget.

And maybe as time goes on I can get more consistent with this blog. And I can delve deeper into my family’s pattern of Treat Yo’Self shopping that has clearly informed my own behavior. And I can share ways I am trying to consume less, and impact the environment in more positive ways.

I hope if you’re here, if you’re reading this, you stick around. You find value in my self reflection and the weird, inconsistent thoughts on what I am trying to do. If not, that’s okay. Because I’m going to keep at it, even if I struggle with it.

Enjoy a cellphone snapshot of the place I was in for my art show.

[kaytheday]

Dallas Winston and his Love for Baseball

Based on this promo picture of Joshua Boone and conversations with @damthosefandoms!

In his early days, Dallas was a fan of the Brooklyn Dodgers. He is from Brooklyn and lived on Flatbush Avenue among various other neighborhoods.

He lived in a public housing unit till he was twelve. In this housing unit, he was able to meet and play with many other boys.

They would go outside and play baseball in the courtyard of the apartment building.

Dallas always had to play 1st baseman and was a good hitter. He loved to play.

This particular group of boys he was involved in were known to play all the time. They could often be found playing in the dead of New York winters.

This is where Dallas's father found an issue with it. After days spent playing in the snow, rain, and mud Dallas would come in soaking wet and tracking mud into the apartment. His dad did not like this at all and would often take it out on him.

Growing up in Brooklyn, he was a fan of the Dodgers and an avid Jackie Robinson fan. This was one thing that he and his father agreed on.

Though Jackie Robinson was a little before Dallas's time (he would have been eight when Jackie quit playing for the Dodgers), he still had regarded Robinson with a lot of hero worship. He even went so far as to write Jackie's number on all the ends of his sneakers. He thought it made him run faster.

Then in 1958, the Dodgers move to LA. This upsets Dallas and it's two years before he even considers being a Yankees fan. To this day, Dallas will get upset if you bring up the Dodgers moving to LA. He considers it the biggest betrayal of his childhood.

Dallas was close friends with the kid who liked to play catcher. His name was Louis and he was called Lou for short. He lived across the hall and they would hang out together all the time.

Later, needing a new team to root for they decide to become Yankees fans. It was either that or be Mets fans.

For some background, the Mets are based in Queens while the Yankees are based in the Bronx. Dallas (and most other kids in his neighborhood in Brooklyn) hate Queens. In the 1960s, Queens is a predominantly rich white borough with over 91% of the population being white. They also have the second lowest African American population out of any of the boroughs while Brooklyn has the highest African American population in 1960. Kids from Queens are often stereotyped as rich kids and living cushy lives who weren't great fighters. While the Bronx was often seen as the opposite. Kids from the Bronx were see as tough and dangerous. They also had the second highest African American population of any borough in the 1960s.

So it makes sense why Dallas would have wanted to be a Yankees fan instead of a Mets fan.

Dallas and Lou's favorite player was Elston Howard, who was a New York Yankee. He was a first baseman and also played catcher. He was also the first African American on the New York Yankees.

Dallas idolized Elston. Still did up till the day he died.

Dallas and Lou used to go to Yankees games as much as they could. They'd take the subway (when they could afford it) or spend an entire day walking all the way up to Yankee Stadium just to get a glimpse of their favorite players and game.

On the days when they couldn't go, they would listen to the games over the radio smoking and playing cards.

In school, he tried out to play baseball but couldn't afford to pay the fees. His father didn't get along with the coach and so he was kicked off the team. Lou was on the team though.

When Dallas left New York he only had time to grab a few things. He took a foul ball he had gotten at a Yankees game and an old Dodgers jersey from his childhood. It was all he could shove into his bag before he had to leave.

In Tulsa, Dallas kept up with the Yankees. Everyone who was into baseball in Tulsa either liked the Texas Rangers or the Kansas City Royals and he couldn't hardly stand that. Though people in Tulsa were mostly into football so it didn't really matter.

Dallas can remember a few times suggesting to the gang that they play baseball instead of football but he was always shot down pretty quick. He plays it off but it still makes him a little sad.

If there is one thing he misses about New York, it's Yankee stadium and the fact that you can always find kids playing a pick-up baseball game in the street.

Sorry this was longer than I meant it to be! Apparently I had a lot of thoughts about Dallas Winston and baseball. Let me know what you think, I love this subject!

[the-fiction-witch]

Passenger Princess

Media The Queens Gambit

Character Benny Watts

Couple Benny X Reader

Rating SMUT

I sat with a wide smile, on the cream bench seat of the little blue beetle. Benny's beetle to be precise. We had loaded our bags and stuffed the poor beetle almost to bursting point and left our little Brooklyn basement to head on the road to Bakersfield California. Benny had a tournament there for a few days and Benny had an 'aversion' to flying, he'll do it but only if he has to. Besides, we both thought it would be a lovely chance to spend time together on a nice road trip. 

We'd been on the road a good while now and we had passed nothing interesting for ages, our fries gone, and snacks depleted. But I know Benny wouldn't stop for a good while longer. Leaving me to sip my huge seven-eleven cola.

The radio on low every so often it would fizzle out where we lost the station so I'd tune it till we found another one, the heating on as it was a rather chilly day, but it too would bounce around given the many places we would pass on this trip.

Benny sat driving, of course, hands on the wheel lazily his hat on the backseat, his jacket still on but he was shuffling and getting uncomfortable in it. Every so often I'd hear his ring clack against the wheel.

“Benny?”

“Ummm?” He didn't move his eyes from the road,

“I'm bored” I pouted laying my head on his shoulder,

He chuckled a moment, “Listen to the radio,”

“Radios boring,”

“Read the map,”

“Maps boring,”

“Read the billboards,”

“Billboards are boring,”

“They're interesting, see fireworks in five miles,”

“Can we get fireworks?”

“No princess,”

“Then why is it interesting!” I complained,

“Because… you can see the shop in five miles. So you can get excited now.”

“Whoopie! Firework store I can't go in” I sighed, “Why can't I have fireworks?”

“You honestly think I'm gonna trust you with fireworks? Explosives! I don't trust you with butter knives”

“One time I stabbed myself!”

“Yes, and I don't trust you,”

“Then what am I supposed to do all these hours?”

“Just relax and be a cute little passenger princess," He said turning to wrap an arm around me and kiss my head. 

"but I'm bored Benny,"

"You wanna play chess?" He asked with excitement in his voice,

"No. We played chess four times already."

"Well, I'm sure you can find something to do." He chuckled, 

I sighed and tried to relax, I had a nap, I read some billboards but still I was so bored!

"Benny?"

"Ummm?"

"I'm bored."

"I know Princess,"

"How much longer?"

"Sixteen hours?"

"How long till we get food?"

"Another couple of hours we only got McDonald's two hours ago." 

"But I'm hungry,"

"you're not hungry you're bored. You're just trying to find something to do and your response to that is to shove stuff in your mouth," 

"You're mean to me."

"Love you too princess." He chuckled,

I sighed and tried to find something to do, and I saw a billboard advertising my favourite fast food place, I looked at the distance on the billboard, and I glanced at the speedometer for a moment doing maths in my mind, but how could I get him to pull over? and I smirked a little looking at Benny, with an evil plan. I would have to be smart, efficient, and time it out perfectly... so I flashed him my most innocent smile,

"Yes?" He asked noticing me looking at him,

"I found something to do,"

"Good," He nods, 

I smiled and moved closer, cuddling his arm.

"Awww Hello," He smiled kissing my head, "So long as you're happy,"

I giggled a little waiting till he didn't suspect and moving to rest my hand gently on his thigh, He glanced at me giving me a questionable look but returned his focus to the road, I made sure to be gentle and slow so he wouldn't suspect but ever so slowly moving my hand up his thigh feeling the aged denim of his black jeans,  running my fingers across the small divots in the denim slightly discoloured from the fact they always sat in them, until I reached the black leather of his belt. 

"Yes?" He glared,

I ignored him, walking my fingers along his belt until I reached the silver buckle giving it a gentle adjust with my fingers 

"Yes?" He glared again slightly louder, 

"Hi Benny," I cooed as my hand fully grabbed between his legs my thumb on his fly as I squeezed him,

"AHH-" He jumped momentarily swerving the car, "Do. Not. Touch. while I'm driving." He said moving my hand to his thigh again, 

"But I'm bored."

"You can find many other things to do other then grabbing my fucking cock!" he complained,

"Awww why? don't you want me too?" I giggled stroking my fingers playfully down his fly as I gave his neck little kisses feeling him slowly getting harder below his jeans, 

"Princess..." He glared clearly trying to be angry with me but also uncontrollably enjoying my kisses, 

"Come on, it would entertain me?" I giggled gently palming his half-hard erection through his jeans,

"Fine," 

"yay!" I giggled slowly undoing his belt, and his fly, to reveal his black boxers, His grip already began to tighten on the wheel his eyes often glancing at me, "Focus on the road," I told him as I slipped my hand under his boxers and took him in my hand "Aww hi Benny,"

"Hi Princess," He rolled his eyes a little but couldn't help his smirk giving him away, I took a gentle grip of him and rubbed my thumb across his shaft feeling him harden into my hand, Once he was fully hard I gently began to jerk my hand gripping his hilt and moving my hand back and forth slowly getting faster, "Uhhh Princess-" He groaned his fingers wrapping around the wheel tightly slightly biting his bottom lip, "Ummm Princess..." 

"Focus on the road," I remind him as I moved to pull his cock completely out his pants leaving him to gasp for a few seconds feeling the cold air across him before I adjusted myself and pressed little kisses to his shaft,

"uhhhh princess!" He moaned, "Really?"

"Mhm" I nodded, moving to take just the tip into my mouth sucking and swirling my tongue around him

"Ummmm! Fuck-" He groans, holding the wheel in a vice-like grip trying not to close his eyes or throw his head back, I giggled and moved to take all of him into my mouth sucking gently and moving my head up and down at the pace I knew he couldn't resist "Ohh holy- Princess! You're really gonna do this to me?" He gasped, "You know you keep going I won't be able to say no?" He asked, I just continued slowly getting faster and sucking a little harder "Ughhhh! you evil little princess!" He groans now gnawing on his lip and squeezing his eyes shut at times rolling his head against his headrest, I knew he was close as his hand left the wheel to sit on my head twisting into my hair to keep me at his desired pace, even his hips couldn't resist me bucking up to slightly to cause me to deep throat him, "Ughhh uuuhhh! Princess please I'll-" He muttered feeling just how close he was, and right on time he pulled off the road and parked up turning the engine off and twisting both his hands in my hair throwing his head against his headrest, his mouth hung open, his eyes squeezed shut as his grip on my hair forced me a little bit faster which got him to his edge. His hips bucked in jagged unplanned movements as he buried his jizz in my mouth, I swallowed and licked him clean giving him a few gentle kisses as he gasped and moaned in his post-orgasmic state "Fuck- You did find something to entertain you didn't you princess." 

"I did," I smiled sitting up and wiping my mouth before kissing his cheek, "Love you,"

"Love you too." He smiled fixing himself up, 

"Oohh would you look at that?" I giggled as we had pulled over into the exact fast-food restaurant I wanted, 

the moment he realized he glared at me, "You... are an evil, conniving, smart ass when you wanna be." 

"I know,"

"you know... You could be a genius if you applied yourself."

"I am a genius," I giggled climbing out of the car with my bag,

"Yeah, an evil genius." He said climbing out too,

"still a genius, and you still love me?" I giggled hugging his arm,

"Of course I do princess." He smiled kissing my head, 

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

four weeks down, eleven to go! i have worked for 22 days straight & came in at just over 40 hours this week & don’t really anticipate having a day off until thanksgiving… but am feeling pretty sane considering all that, i think. this week also is pretty busy and i am not fully prepped for tomorrow but after tuesday and certainly after wednesday there should be a little bit of a reprieve… also the MTA fucked up so bad that i literally couldn’t make it to bay ridge so was spared that this week, lol.

it is making a huuuuge difference not to feel any time crunch re: content development side gig… it has been so so nice to be able to go back to thinking of being on the train as being my Me Time that i can spend with my best friends Thinking and Listening to Music and Books. reading a book on the train is such a lovely little middle of my workflow relaxation…! also i do believe more with every day that the to do list system i’ve been experimenting with, which combines the fact that i like writing to do lists by hands with cure colors with the fact that i want to be able to map them out spatially across the week and move things easily if they change, which they constantly do, is the one… sorry to sound like a shill for the apple pencil but it’s really out here changing my life..

i thought i was going to get back into the writing swing of things this week but then i wound up more actually busy with work stuff than anticipated… but i did write another thousand words or so of my very silly and self indulgent queliot project. i also thought i was going to clean my room and perhaps my increasingly in need of cleaning kitchen, and well simply lol. but i also thought this week was going to be Pure Hermiting but then a friend asked around about plans to go see the substance yesterday so i did that with some people instead, and i already have a Fun Thing planned for next weekend, when i will probably also be getting my vaxes, lol. i finally ordered the stupid little adapter that always breaks so that i can use my real headphones again. i did my workouts (5 more till my mid-program break!) & hit my step goal & actually got 19,000 steps today alone bc i had two sessions in brooklyn about a mile apart and then i came home and then i had to go to forest hills 😵‍💫 i finished the collection of ishiguro shorts i started in august & read all of piranesi, much of the last stretch of which i read by iphone light while walking because i couldn’t wait to get to the train or home or bear to put it down as i walked to a student’s house. tomorrow i will start flowers in the attic for book club about which i am VERY excited. onward!

[alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody]

kinktober #19

Invasive Vines 🌿 / Sweet Shop 🍭

“Candy’s possessed,” David announces, and Ben shakes his head. 

“Always has been.”

“What?” says Kristen, cocking her head, and Ben rolls his eyes. 

“You’ve never seen that meme? You have four meme-age daughters and you’ve never seen the astronaut meme?”

Kristen shrugs. Ben goes to pull it up on his phone.

Father Ignatius fills them in on the case; a candy shop in Brooklyn has reported an unusual increase in gluttony from its customers and employees. Apparently it’s not the only candy shop affected recently, either — just the only one devout enough to call the church.

“How do we know it’s demonic gluttony and not just kids pulling pranks for Halloween?” David asks, and Father Ignatius shrugs.

“How should I know? That’s your job. I know it feels like busy work, but if it really is something demonic, it would be good to get a jump on it before the holiday. I get enough parents asking about razor blades in apples and whether celebrating Halloween is un-Christian without adding demonic candy to the mix.”

“Razor blades in apples has never been a thing,” says Ben. “It’s like the hoax about people giving kids drugs in Halloween candy. No one is wasting their hard-earned drugs on trick-or-treaters.”

Sister Andrea falls in with them as they file out of his office as if she’d been part of the conversation the whole time. “Well, of course it would be candy eventually,” she says. “Why do you think I use marshmallows to catch demons? They’ll eat themselves sick on the stuff if they get the chance.”

“Do you?” asks Kristen with interest. “Use marshmallows?”

Sister Andrea nods. “For the smaller ones, yes.”

“Okay,” says Kristen, because sure, why not. “Please don’t ever tell my girls about that. We’d never get rid of the ants.”

She lets Ben sit shotgun as David drives them out to Brooklyn, her gaze flickering between the Halloween decorations adorning the blur of brownstones outside her window and the open bag of candy corn in the center console between the boys. 

“Where’d that come from?” she asks, leaning forward and crinkling the bag.

David shrugs. “One of the church volunteers leaves little baskets for everyone at the church. She never misses a holiday.”

“Huh,” says Kristen. She’s not much for candy corn, but there’s something irresistibly sweet about watching David and Ben throw back handfuls while they talk about the case and banter about who had the worst Halloween costume back in the day (Ben pulls up a picture of him and Karima as awkward teens, wearing the most half-hearted, ill-fitting generic Star Trek uniforms Kristen has ever seen: “Mom didn’t exactly get the memo on what they were supposed to look like.”)

When they pull up to the candy shop, the place looks worse for the wear. The front window has been smashed and covered over with brown paper scrawled with the words WE’RE OPEN!, and the doorknob looks like it’s been blown off with dynamite and recently replaced with a shiny new one. “Jesus,” says Ben, cradling the new knob in his hand, and David’s brow furrows. 

“Is Halloween that cutthroat these days?”

“Spend an hour at my house after trick-or-treating,” says Kristen over her shoulder. “It’ll make your war journalism career look like Goodnight Moon.”

Ben laughs and follows her in, and David shepherds them from behind. The shop owner explains that they’ve had problems recently with employees stealing sweets from the store in bulk, with customers coming back to demand more than they paid for with the sweaty, aggressive insistence of desperation, with break-ins faster than they can repair the front windows that leave the till and safe untouched, but the candy bins emptied.

“Is there one candy that seems to be more of an incentive than the others?” asks David, and the shop owner shrugs. 

“The frogs have been a target. So has the candy corn, the regular and the pumpkins.”

Kristen mouths The frogs have been a target to Ben over David’s shoulder. The air inside is warm and humid despite the October chill outside, and when she leans over one of the bins and picks up a gummy frog with a marshmallowy underside, it sticks unpleasantly to her fingers. 

“And do they share a manufacturer?” asks Ben, sweeping his gaze around the shop. “Could’ve been some sort of chemical additive accidentally mixed into certain batches that’s reacting with a common medication or something.”

“Sure, lots of them come from Wingate’s in Jersey,” says the shop owner dubiously, “but not all of the varieties from the same manufacturer are causing the problems. The jujubes are made there, too, and nobody’s touching those.”

“That’s because they’re jujubes,” says Ben under his breath. 

“I like jujubes,” Kristen protests in a whisper.

“We’ll look into it,” David overlaps, louder. “Please don’t hesitate to call us if anything further happens.”

“Honestly?” says Ben from the backseat when they’re safely ensconced in the car. “Ignatius is right, this does feel like busy work. It’s probably some local parenting group trying to make a statement about how addicted kids are to sugar these days.”

“Ooh, yeah, probably,” agrees Kristen. “That’d be a pretty savvy approach, actually. Call the church, call it evil, and bam, you’ve got a great excuse to toss your kid’s Halloween candy.”

“Yeah,” says Ben, leaning forward for another handful of candy corn. “Or to eat it all yourself.”

�� 

The next day, both of the boys look under the weather. Ben’s brown skin looks a bit grayer than usual, and David’s forehead is beaded with sweat, even though St. Joseph’s Parish is notoriously drafty. They’re waiting for her on a bench in the church hall, Ben slumped lightly against David’s big body, 

“You guys good?” asks Kristen, setting her bag down beside David’s knee. “There a cold or something going around?”

David grimaces. “I’ve got some bad news about that candy corn.”

“Oh no,” says Kristen, her stomach dropping. “From the volunteer?”

Ben nods, pressing an arm to his own stomach. “Yep.”

“So, what?” she says, laying her palm first on David’s forehead, then Ben’s: they’re both a little damp, but not feverish. “Were you both just up snarfing candy corn all night?”

“Yeah, just about,” says David, eyes downcast. In his turtleneck and thick sweater, he looks less like a man of God and more like a New England college student trying to explain away a hangover. “I said Mass this morning, but I had Father Dement take over for me this evening. I feel awful.”

“Do we think it’s related to the case?” Kristen asks, patting both of their knees and squeezing herself in between them. “Like a sabotage attempt?”

“Nah,” says Ben, stifling a burp. “I think we just got caught in the crossfire. Wingate’s probably manufactures candy that’s sold all over the city. It’s gonna be a miserable Halloween for most of New York if we don’t figure this out.”

Kristen looks between them. “Do either of you really think you can survive a drive out to Brooklyn right now?”

David swallows hard. Ben shakes his head.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says, resting a hand on each of their knees. “What do you say we go back to my place and regroup there? The girls will be in school for a few more hours, so it’ll be quiet.”

David nods gratefully. “I didn’t realize until today how badly a sugar coma would mix with church incense.”

“Why do I feel like maybe this is your doing?” Ben teases weakly as Kristen helps him to his feet. Beneath his t-shirt, she can see that he’s bloated, his stomach pressing against the thin fabric. David’s sweater is too thick for her to do the same, but now she wants to know. “Like you decided we needed a day to get mommed and slipped us wacky candy corn.”

“Oh, yes,” says Kristen, hauling up David next. He’s heavier, and when she puts a hand on his middle to steady herself, she gets the answer she’s craving: his stomach, too, feels hard and round beneath his clothing. “I’ve been playing the long game, dressing up as a little old lady and dropping off holiday gift baskets for everyone at church for years just to prepare for this moment because I think you guys aren’t getting enough days off.”

“Hmm,” says David, mock-suspicious. “I never said it was a little old lady.”

“They’re volunteers at the Catholic church,” quips Ben from Kristen’s other side. “The population skews heavily toward little old ladies.”

David laughs, then winces, palming at his belly. Kristen covers his hand with her own, and even though she’d never want him or Ben to be uncomfortable, there’s something thrilling about how big he feels, how packed full. She wants desperately to hear the sounds the two of them might make about it.

“So,” she says, hooking arms with them and leading them out to the car. “How long do you think before this candy thing goes viral?”

—

David and Ben are quiet on the drive back to Kristen’s. She keeps the heat off despite the chill, opens the windows to let in the rich, therapeutic wet-leaves-and-rain scent of fall, and she even resists the urge to crank up the radio and sing along when “Short Skirt/Long Jacket” comes on. 

She gets the boys set up on the couch, brings blankets and pillows, and digs up the green ginger tea she only ever pulls out when one of the girls is sick. She finds a half-empty, probably-flat bottle of ginger ale she clearly shoved to the back of the fridge months ago and forgot about and divides it among two glasses with ice, then pulls three mismatched mugs from the cabinet and pours tea. It takes two near disasters before she decides that she cannot cool-girl it up and walk out with all five cups at once.

“Need help?” calls David from the next room.

“Nope, I got it!” she yells back. “Just sit there and relax!”

She takes the ginger ale out first, then the tea. They’ve left room for her between them on the couch, and she slides in easily. “How’s that?” she asks, giving Ben’s stomach a little pat and David’s knee a squeeze. “I can get the heating pack from upstairs, too, if you want it.”

“Maybe later,” says David, wrapping an arm around Kristen as Ben starts on his tea. “I’ll just use your heat for now.”

“Mmm, fine by me.” She tucks her sock feet beneath her on the couch and gently massages his swollen belly. “You feeling any better?”

David catches a burp in his fist. “Not as nauseous. Just achy.”

She applies a bit of pressure with her hand, and David lets out a soft noise that would make her weak if she weren’t already curled on the couch. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “Yeah, there you go, baby. Let it all out.”

“Hey, can I get in on this?” asks Ben, shifting his weight so he’s canted more toward Kristen.

“Of course! I have two hands.” But she turns in his direction and gives him some attention, too, rubbing his belly and helping him push out a few uncomfortable burps. “Yeah, that’s it. Does that feel better?”

Ben sighs. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“I wonder how long it takes to detox from candy corn,” muses David, and then kicks out a laugh. “Another question I never asked myself until we started this job,”

“I feel dumb,” Ben grumbles into his mug. “This happens to people we assess, not to us.”

“That’s the universe putting us in our place,” says Kristen, sipping her own tea. “Just like my favorite Bible verse says: what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”

David rolls his eyes. “Yes, what book is that again?”

Kristen shoots him a winning smile, all bright teeth and fluttering eyelashes. “Uh, I think it’s The Book of I Have Four Daughters Who Love to Push My Buttons.”

“Hey,” says Ben suddenly. “Does candy corn have gelatin in it?”

Kristen raises an eyebrow. “Ew. Does it?”

David fishes his glasses from some heretofore-unseen pocket and perches them on the end of his nose. “Looks like it does,” he says after a moment of googling. “And those frog gummies probably would, too, right? With that marshmallow base?”

“Yeah!” says Kristen, crowding in. “Do you think it’s related to the pork thing? What was the name? Belmonte?”

David scrolls. “Of the company, yeah. Garcia was the guy who ran the farm we visited.”

“Right, with the son who got possessed,” Ben puts in. “Gelatin’s gotta come from somewhere, and Jersey’s close enough that the Garcia farm could be a viable source. And it would explain why only some of the candies were affected. The stuff without gelatin would be totally fine.”

“Score one for the jujubes,” says Kristen, and Ben pokes her gently.

“Hey!” she teases. “I don’t know why you’re picking on my taste when David once told us he genuinely enjoys the Eucharist wafers.”

“You know how I think you could enjoy those?” says Ben, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back. “Drop ’em into hot oil like everyone’s doing with those rice paper circles on VidTap so they puff up and get crunchy. Little salt, little hot sauce …”

“You can’t deep-fry the Body of Christ,” David protests, laughing. “Another group of words I never thought I’d say in that order.”

“But are they the Body of Christ before they’re consecrated, though?” asks Kristen, drawing her knees up to her chin and leaning on David. “I think you can just buy them in bulk online, unblessed.”

“Let’s find out,” says Ben, opening his phone. “Oh, yeah. You can get a thousand for under twenty bucks.”

“Nooo,” moans David, dropping his head into his hands. “I thought we were here to regroup, not blaspheme.”

“We already regrouped,” says Kristen brightly, kissing his cheek. She takes Ben’s free hand and brings it into her lap. “Now it’s time for blaspheming. And if all this talk about communion wafers is making you hungry, I’m sure I can scrounge up something …”

“No!” yelp David and Ben in unison, and Kristen grins. 

“Okay, okay. Just keep me posted. I wouldn’t want either of you going hungry.”

“I don’t think I’ll be hungry again until the weekend,” says David, leaning back on the couch and bringing his ginger ale to his lips.

Ben lets out a burp. “I dunno,” he says with a crooked smile. “I could probably be convinced a little sooner. I don’t have dinner plans tonight.”

“I’ve got chicken soup in the freezer,” says Kristen. “If I take it out now, it’ll have plenty of time to thaw. That all right?”

She ducks back into the kitchen, then gets a fresh kettle going and makes herself a little snack to eat while the water heats. When she goes out to the living room to collect mugs, Ben is bunched against David, a blanket pulled over their legs.

“Nap time?” she guesses, and they both nod. They look irresistibly cozy, and the kettle will wait, so instead she cuddles up to David’s other side and pulls the blanket over her own legs as well. Beneath the fleece, she finds David’s hands, laced over his belly, and then Ben’s, braced on David’s arm. When she dozes off, it’s to the slightly uneven rhythm of their breathing, to the warmth of their heat.

[brooklynscamp]

Well wada’ ya know you found my blog

—————————————————————————

THIS IS MY NEWSIES RP BLOG SEND YOUR ASKS IT ONLY COSTS A QUARTAH’

main blog: @casp1an-sea

on this blog you can speak to Scamp (#scamp 🗞️), Weeds (#Weeds 🪙), or Rafferty (#Raffy 👞)

picrew: Makowka

Scamp is my OC/self insert, 17, male, He/him, gay. Was born in Louisana, now an orphan. Worked as a coal boy on the railroads so has traveled around the states (yes he’s been to Santa Fe) settled down in Brooklyn till he was chased out by cops raiding a gay bar and fled to manhattan where he recently joined Jack’s gang. He went by his real name Russle “Rus” back in Brooklyn before Jack dubbed him the name Scamp. Has a side job pulling curtains at medda’s. He is friends with Spot, Mush, Splasher, Crutchie, and the characters bellow, but aside from spot he hasn’t rly had the chance to get to know people yet.

NO NSFW romance is fine—————————————————————————

Other Characters:

(Aside from Weeds and Alfred these are my IRL’s self inserts so I designed them but do not own them. You can send asks to Scamp about them or directly speak to Weeds or Alfred even though this is technically a scamp blog)

I made a character for every role I played lmao

- Patrick AkA Weeds

A Richmond Newsie with a strong Irish Accent. Twin brother of Raffy they don’t get along. best friends with Stacks, attached at the hip with Worm.

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- Rafferty AkA Raff/Raffy

A former Richmond Newsie that now works for Wiesel. Friends with the Delancey Brothas’ Twin brother to Weeds they don’t get along. Has a strong Irish accent. He gets in fights with Specs and Race a lot. Considers Specs to be his number one rival. —————————————————————————

- Queenie

They’re a Bowery Beauty (the one Les tried to hit on lmao) They are Worm’s older sibling.

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- Worm

A newsie from Richmond, best friends with stacks attached to the hip with Weeds.

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- Stacks

a newsie from lower Manhattan (originally from Richmond) known for being short. Best friends with Weeds and Worm, just recently met Scamp.

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- Lenard

a newsie from flushing who spends a lot of time in Manhattan. knew Scanp before he came to Manhattan.

character based on @ravenwing0110

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- Dash (Scab 1)

A newsie from the Bronx who’s actually Scamps little brother (they don’t know that) the first scab from that scene before seize the day to join Jack’s gang. Friends with Spot. Has a joke rivalry with splasher.

—————————————————————————

- Rusty

a Manhattan Newsie that also works at Medda’s for extra change. He helped Scamp get his job. Nephew of both Mr. Jacobi and Nunzio. How? Idk

—————————————————————————

- Darling

she’s the older sister of Rusty and the one who got him the job at Medda’s.

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- Sparky

a Manhattan newsie who just met Scamp. His older sister is a nun and his mother works as one of Pulitzer’s secretaries. character based on @messylxve

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- Maria Wright

one of pulitzers secretaries. Her son is a newsboy and her daughter is a nun.

character based on @messylxve —————————————————————————

@bigmack2go @distant-velleity @messylxve

@ravenwing0110

[hauntedfoxhut]

Insomniac!Miles Morales x streamer!F!reader

Pronouns: She/her

You as a simple streamer meet the cutest boy in Brooklyn, Miles Morales son of Rio Morales and Jeff Davis, you had meet a couple of times, randomly bumping on the street, neighborhood parties and once time in particular when you found him with a black eye and a bloody nose, so you helped him, after that you became great friends, but you started to fall for him.

English is not my first language so I’m sorry for any writing mistake, hope you enjoy this one shot🫶🏻

⚠️Warnings⚠️

Blood citation, curse words and mention of death

The rest is pure romance

Dialogue colors

Y/N-blue

Miles-red

NY City, Brooklin, Y/N apartment, 02:30am

The live was doing great, I decided to play the sims, a simple challenge, now I just got 4 more subscribers, that really helps a lot, they literally pay my bills, I was planning to cook the dinner but I just decide to buy some sushi, I drank a dr. Pepper, totally healthy.

“ Well guys, thank you for your time, today we ended a bit late but I hope you all enjoyed the live, I’ll cut and post on YouTube for those who missed some parts, bye bye see you next live” I send a kiss to the webcam, and then… it’s over, I needed to stop that live, staying awake till late it’s not good, drinking monster all day, eating junk food, when was the last time that I felt the sunlight, I’m living a bat…

*knock…knock…*

“What the fuck??” I spin the gamer chair to the window, I saw Miles, i get up and open the window for him, the cold wind from the winter entered your bedroom giving you chills.

“Hey mami how you doing?” He hugs you tight, lifting you up and taking your feet off the ground, he simply ignored the cold wind coming from the outside, “Mileees the window!!” “Sorry Y/N” he instantly let your feet reach the ground again and turned back to close that window closing the curtains too, when you focused on his face his nose was bleeding and his right cheek was red almost purple, and he realized that you noticed, he just hide his face under his hands.

“Again Miles? Really? How? What’s the story for today?” “I… got into a fight, with a jock but I…” “I got punched and I fell downstairs, same story from last week so don’t lie to me” “can we just ignore this” he points to his face “ I came here just to forget about all that stuff”

He just lay on my bed, taking deep breaths, he’s been passing through a hard time after loosing his father, getting into fights in school, moving to Harlem now all we got is a couple of hours together once or twice a week, I seat near to him, putting my hand on his head, I start to caress his hair, which was very short making he looks so cute. “You know that you can always count with me right? I’m here for you, ever since the day that we bumped near to the Central Park because I was running to get that dog” “I remember that you started crying because the dog stole your bracelet, was funny” he chuckles “No it wasn’t! I was so sad that day and that dog just made it worse” “I miss you, a lot, all that shit that’s been happening is making me mad, I’m sorry for leaving you, I just couldn’t leave my mom alone”

His eyes, are just like a window to his soul in pain, pure sorrow, I lay on his side holding him to cuddle, my heart beating faster, being near to him like this is good but it still make me blush, “I wish I could have you near me, now I’m feeling lonely at Harlem, you can spend a week there, my mom wouldn’t mind” “Miles i would love it… but…” “but ?” “ never mind haha, I’m free next week, I would love to spend the week with you”

He hug me back and now we’re laying face to face, I only can stare at his lips and same for Miles he just been staring my lips for almost 2 minutes straight, his hand holding my cheek, he looks so hypnotizing, I’m lost in his face, I can only feel his hand is on my cheek, now he’s approaching, so close, so so close, he kiss me, a soft and simple kiss but very meaningful, I just kiss him back, the butterflies on my stomach, “can I stay? It’s too late and I miss you so much” his puppy eyes, staring at me, I can’t resist, “of course you can” “can I sleep with you?” That question caught me off guard, now im the one who hide the face under my hands but his hand that’s on my cheeks try to take my hands off, “c’mon it’s not the first time that we slept together, why are you so awkward about it?” When your face is not covered anymore you can see a slight blush in his cheeks, “I just… like you, that’s why I came here, I was planning to text you but that would be so dishonest, I needed to do it face to face” “Miles just shut up” I instantly kiss him, softly holding his cheeks that are a bit warm, at first he got shocked but one second later he just kiss me back.

We stopped the kiss because we needed to breath, now his hands are around my hips, making imaginary circles with the fingers, “so mister Morales, may you please let me get up so I can get a blanket for us?” “Of course you can my pretty girlfriend” “girlfriend?” I can’t hide that little smile in my face, I’m feeling so happy right now, but I still tired needing to sleep, so yeah, I just loved the idea of sleeping with him. “Yup, girlfriend, or do you want a nickname like, mi vida, cariño, Hermosa, honey, you can choose.” I yawned feeling my eyes getting heavier, “can I choose one later I just want to sleep right now…. Get the blanket please” I can badly keep my eyes open, he kiss my forehead and leave the bed to get the huge blanket in the closet, he come back to the bed and when he realized you’re sleeping, a little shrunk because of the cold, but tight on sight he covered you with warm blanket and sneaking to sleep with you.

That night you sleep so well after almost a week of bad sleep, he made me relax, holding my body with his big hands and long arms, making me fell safe, now that I’m dating him I already have everything that I need, but now I’ll have to move to the Harlem to live near to him.

Translations

Mi vida- my life

Cariño- dear

Hermosa -beautiful

[blakelysco-pilot]

WIP WEDNESDAY

thank you for the tag @lestweforget5

currently working on the next part of Love Letters, so here’s a bit of that until the next chapter comes out (soon I promise) 💗

After a wonderful two week reprieve with John Brady’s sweetheart and now her friend, Juliet, Jo was back home in Brooklyn. She would spend the remainder of Harry Crosby’s furlough with her parents so that Jean had the privacy she deserved. She was certain that the next two weeks would crawl by, for her at least.

“I’m back!” She called, entering the house. She could hear her mother rustling around, before she appeared in the foyer with an almost worried look in her eye.

“Josephine!” Hugging her tightly, she stepped back, appraising her daughter and picking the sadness up immediately. “Sweetheart, welcome back!”

“Thanks,” she forced a grin, knowing there would be minimal gossip and cocktails that night. “Are you okay? Mom you look worried.”

“You have a visitor. A gentleman is waiting in the living room for you.”

“Oh god, is he, is it… did something happen to Robbie?”

“He says his name is Pappy?”

“Oh my! Pappy!?”

Jo rushed from the foyer into the living room, all ladylike behavior thrown out the window as she came skidding to a stop in the doorway.

“Hiya Jo!” Pappy grinned, standing from the sofa as he saw her.

“Pappy! Oh my- what are you doing here!”

“Rosie sent me,” he grinned, coming to greet her properly, the pair finally able to put names to faces. “He thought with Croz home, you might need some cheering up.”

“You came all the way here just to cheer me up?”

“Well, you’re Rosie’s sweetheart, and your Val’s friend too. Val would give me a wallop if she knew I didn’t come see you when you needed it. She sends her regards by the way, boy, wait till you meet her! Have you met Croz yet? I’m sure he’ll want to meet you too, you’re very popular amongst the Riveters crew you know? We all-”

“Pappy, slow down!” She laughed.

tagging: @sagesolsticewrites @hesbuckcompton-baby @claireelizabeth85 @footprintsinthesxnd @major-mads and anyone else who’d like to play along

[holylulusworld]

Two Kings (4)

Summary: You have fallen in love with the king of Brooklyn. When your wedding day arrives, there is much more to discover about the man you fell in love with than you thought...

Pairing: Prince!Steven Grant Rogers x Princess!Reader  

Warnings: angst, modern royal au, dystopian world (kinda), fluff, young love, implied smut

A/N: We are living in modern times, but in a dystopian/post war world. Almost every technology got destroyed.

A/N: For a better understanding - Prince Steve Rogers, Prince Bucky Barnes and Prince Tony Stark are the same age for my story.

Two kings masterlist

<< Part 3

A few months later, …

“Aw, no. It’s raining again,” you sigh as you look out the window. “No walk in the garden then. Do you want to go to the library or to your room?”

“You want me to leave your room?” the prince asks. “I just arrived, and I thought we could spend time together.”

“I’d love that, my prince. It’s just,” you smile softly as you turn around to face the prince, “you are grumpy Steve again. I thought you wanted to be alone for a while.”

“Grumpy Steve?” He steps toward you and places his hand on your shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you are two Steves,” you giggle. Sometimes you're such a soft, dreamy boy drawing pictures all the time. This Steve always wants to be close to me and cuddle me. And then there is grumpy Steve. You don’t like drawing and spend less time with me. You are distant then, and less clingy.”

“I-“ the prince licks his lips. Without any response, he opens his jacket to get a drawing out of it. "Uh, I have a new frog for you.”

"New frog," you snatch the drawing out of his hand so you can find a place for it. “I love the frogs.” You turn your head to look at Steve. “Don’t get me wrong. I love all of your drawings, but the frogs are the cutest.”

“You like them more than the others?” he asks, as he steps closer to you. “Really?”

“You see, just like your moods, the drawings are different too. Soft Stevie draws beautiful flowers and portraits. But grumpy Steve has this talent for cute frogs, and I love that dog you drew for me some months ago.”

“That was a goat,” the prince sheepishly admits. “Sorry, it didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to.”

“No! I love it,” you protest. “It’s cute. Dog, goat. It doesn’t matter. As for your two moods, I like them a lot. The soft and the grumpy. I like that you pout and wiggle your nose when you’re grumpy.”

You flash the prince a smile. “I do not pout! I’m a man and men do not pout,” he exasperatedly says.

You giggle and wink at the prince.

“You are teasing me, aren’t you?"

“You’re smart too,” you say. The prince pouts, but grabs your hand. Gently. He just holds it for a while staring you in the eyes. “How about we spend some time on my bed?" 

The prince nods, afraid to speak now. “I’d like that too.”

“We could cuddle and-“ you cup his cheek with your free hand, “you could touch me again, my prince. I love it when you touch me.”

“T-ouch you,” he stammers. The prince seems nervous as he releases your hand. “I-we…you want me to touch you...again?"

For a moment his blue eyes turn dark. He clenches his jaw and puffs out a breath.

“You know, I love the soft and the grumpy man," you say, standing on tiptoes to press a soft kiss on his lips. “Maybe grumpy Steve wants to make up for being away for so long. What do you say, my prince?”

He swallows the lump in his throat. The prince’s eyes drop to your lips, and further down to your chest. “You are so soft, smart, and beautiful. I think…I think I love you.”

You giggle again. 

“No…I mean,” he fights to get the words out. “I love you. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you—” the prince frowns. He shakes his head and clears his throat. “What I want to tell you is that I’m sorry I don’t say it so often.”

This time, you frown. The last time the prince was around he wouldn’t stop telling you how much he loves you. He swore on his life to love you till the end of the time Now it seems like he forgot about that promise.

“It’s alright, my prince,” you cup his face with both hands. “I love you too. Grumpy. Soft. I don’t care. You have a place in my heart.”

A soft look crosses his face when he looks at you.

You kiss him again. The prince instantly returns the kiss and wraps his arms around your body. He moans into your mouth. 

“You are mine, Blossom. Forever mine. No one can take you away from me,” The prince softly whispers against your lips. 

“Blossom,” you breathe against him. “I like it.”

“How do you want to spend the day?” you murmur as you wake up in the prince’s arms. You and the prince spent another night together. He was a little nervous last night, but you didn’t mind.

“Can we stay like this all day?” He looks at you in his arms. “I wouldn’t mind holding you in my arms for the rest of my stay.”

“I’d like that, but my father will not like it,” you giggle. 

The prince chuckles. “I guess he already knows we did more than cuddle. We are not living in medieval times, you know. It’s not a shame to love each other in any way.”

“Sometimes I wish our world was different. It’s so unfair that-“ you sniffle. “My aunt is pregnant, and she fears it’s another son.”

“Our world is cruel," he chokes out. “If only we could change it. I don’t think killing second sons will save this rotten world. Maybe with the help of Prince Stark and Prince Barnes, we could turn this world into a better place for everyone.”

“What do you mean?” you lift your head to look at the prince. 

“I heard my father talk to King Stark,” he whispers so no one can hear him. "They said the law about second sons must be eliminated. It’s inhuman.”

"I completely agree," resting your head on his chest you sigh deeply. “My parents got lucky because I was the firstborn. I never understood why only second sons must die. What if the second daughters want to take over the world? Huh? That’s misogynist.”

“Do you want to take over the world, Blossom?” He grins now. “I’ll help you.”

“Of course, you’ll help me, my prince. We will rule this world. Your soft and grumpy side,” you smile to yourself. “Give me a bit more time to figure out a plan.”

“Father, what do you think about the prince?” you ask a few days after your fiancé left your kingdom. 

“He will be a worthy husband and king. The prince is smart, and caring and I know he loves you dearly,” your father softly says. He kisses your temple and wraps his arms around you.

“Why does he never allow me to visit him?" You whisper. “He promised me that I would visit him soon. But whenever I ask him about his home, he turns silent.”

“Young men can be difficult. Maybe he’s afraid you won't like his kingdom. It’s smaller than ours and colder. Flowers hardly grow at his place.”

“You think so? Oh, maybe I should read more books. I could help him grow flowers in his kingdom. I think I'll retreat to the library today."

“Never forget, this bond is important to both you and our kingdoms. We are four kingdoms united by friendship and trust against the world.”

“Four kingdoms?” you question. “What’s that supposed to mean, Father?”

“King Howard Stark, King Joseph Rogers, King George Barnes, and I are allies. We agreed on creating a new world. A safer and less cruel one. One day, we will tell you about it. Just not yet..."

Part 5

Tags in reblog.

[bluespider008]

Oc asks>>>

Oc: Mayhem (transformers)

1. [are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?]

Like many other Decepticons she had a mainly purple color palette, though after leaving the 'con army she began to veer into more greys, various purples, 'n some yellow as well in her paint jobs (kinda like a Megatronus color palette)

2. [what sort of music would they like? have you thought about what genres or bands do they lean towards? do they have a favorite song?]

Absolutely LOVES rock 'n rap! 'Keep their heads ringin', 'Rollin', 'X gon give it to ya', 'The choice is yours', 'Till I collapse', 'No sleep till Brooklyn'

3. [weapon of choice? any particular reason they chose their weapon?]

Prefers blasters that she herself makes (being a weapons specialist/engineer) even if they don't always work the best. She's currently workin' on makin' a blaster that can also change into a sword (likely will never work)

4. [how crafty/resourceful are they?]

She is incredibly crafty 'n can make a weapon out of just about anythin', she specifically loves building weapons or items to make missions more fun for her chaotic self.

5. [how do they typically dress? does their wardrobe lean more towards practicality or aesthetics?]

She has spikes naturally formed on her helm but she added ones to her shoulders. She also likes comic stickers, 'n caution tape, as she heard they looked cool in human culture.

6. [how do they wear their hair? do they care a lot how their hair looks?]

No hair, just helm lol

7. [favorite animal? why?]

She likes platypuses.. cause, like- they are mammals but lay eggs? How? HOW???

8. [do they have a nickname? who gave it to them? if it's not derived from their real name, what's the story behind it?]

Bullet (from her brother. Y'can probably guess why she's called Bullet)

9. [favorite food? least favorite? are they a picky eater? do they have any dietary restrictions?]

She'll literally eat anythin'- even if she ain't supposed to 💀

10. [if they wear jewelry, what kind? do they prefer silver or gold? do they have a favorite gem?]

She likes any yellow stones/crystals as they remind her of her brother's optics

11. [what do they have in common with you?]

Fear of attachment/abandonment (same fam, same..)

12. [how long have they been around? do you know their birthday? is their birthday the day you made them or another day? what do they think of celebrating birthdays?]

Birthdays aren't really somthin' she's accustomed to celebratin'.. (also, cybertronian age is pretty confusin' so just think of her as a 17 year old in human standards)

13. [what languages do they speak? how fluently?]

Cybertronian, basic alien dialect, can learn any language by goin' through databases as well as mimickin' accents.

14. [are they any good with numbers?]

Ehh.. so/so

15. [how big or small is their family? who did they live with growing up? do they live with anyone now?]

The actual size of her family is yet to be known as she was raised by her brother. Neither of them truly never knew their sire or carrier 'n had been on the move constantly throughout their childhood.

16. [do they have any pets? what do they call their pets?]

She isn't allowed to have pets yet until she learns to be more careful with her large frame 💀 (she's already accidentally crushed multiple things)

17. [how did they spend their summers/free time as a child?]

As a sparklin' / young teen she spent most of her time on buildin' random projects, her first successful build bein' a hoverboard like invention (before she learned how to transform properly)

18. [their opinion on lying, stealing, and killing?]

All can be reasonable dependin' on the situation you're in.

19. [are they quick to anger? what sets them off?]

She's a bit of a hothead 'n can easily be set off when someone mocks her or her inventions.

20. [if applicable, can they drive? if they have their own, what color is their vehicle? is the inside neat and tidy, or a mess?]

She definitely drives like a drag racer 'n not so surprisingly becomes very competitive if she's actually challenged to a race. (Her alt mode is a deep purple custom '69 Ford Mustang Mach 1)

21. [their favorite place to be?]

She likes the mountains, she finds the snow beautiful 'n peaceful durin' winter.

22. [do they sleep well at night?]

Depends on the night/ how hard she'd worked prior. Sometimes she'll fall into recharge rather quickly, other times she won't or she'll be jolted awake from dreams.

23. [how would you describe their voice? can they sing?]

She loves to project the voice of the singer she's listenin' to through her own vocalizer, pretendin' that she's the one actually singin'. She often switches through accents often 'n speaks pretty fast, so it can be a bit hard to understand at times.

24. [do they have any creative hobbies? art, writing, music, etc]

Loves art, engineerin', 'n music.

25. [how good/bad is their hearing? what about their eyesight?]

She has very sharp hearin' 'n pretty good sight, though one time she'd almost lost her optics in a fight.

26. [how do they move? are they clumsy? light on their feet? do they use mobility aids?]

She's far too strong 'n flexible for her own good which only boosts her already huge ego, often gettin' to her head 'n causin' her to do very reckless things durin' battle, sometimes old Decepticon habits come into play 'n she goes overboard.

27. [if applicable, do they have a favorite sport they play any sports or prefer to watch?]

Boxin' 'n racin'. Gets WAY too competitive.

(Might do the last few questions some other time..)

[loneberry]

After I finished making a midterm exam, Molly and I went to a secret Japanese tea house. It appears on no map, has no hours, no sign. It is as though it exists, somehow, outside this world. When you enter, you give your phone to the owner to lock in a box for the duration of your visit.

We stayed for nearly 6 hours—sat reading poems, chatting with the eccentric owner about Sufism and the ocean and his peculiar flower arrangements consisting of a mix of living and dead plant matter.

How can I describe it, the strange sensation of being alive, late at night in those dim lights, surrounded by beauty. I got up to look at the wares, inhaled the hinoki essential oil—Max Richter was playing as I stared at blank notecards and imagined writing someone a heartfelt note, writing bravely, from that bewitched and emotionally authentic space I was in. I felt a sudden pang. It was the moment opening, with all its counterfactuals, what could have been, what will never be—how deeply I could feel, in that instant, the texture of my grief.

When I’m in the hustle and bustle of my busy and now quite ordinary life, I think, if only I could really hear the voice that says,

“Jackie, it was not for this that you were created.”

Then I would give away all my things and spend my days in prayer.

Susan Howe writes that for Sarah Edwards, “all works of God are a kind of language or voice to instruct us in things pertaining to calling and confusion.”

“...each soul comes upon the call of God in his word. I read words but don’t hear God in them.”

Did I pray, how long in supplication, with my inner eye fixed on that phantom, the phantom with her eyes stitched shut, limbs covered in oak moss. A dream of the opening of the eyes, the inert limbs now lithe and moving toward you. Ordinary objects and sounds are suddenly strange. That’s when the phantom slips through, when I hear the birds singing in a tree...

The blooming moment. Retrospectively, I am convinced that its condition of possibility was the confiscation of my phone, that it is only when we are unplugged that we can sense these holy emanations.

How calm we were, leafing through the book of Japanese death poems (jisei) in the tea house. What will be the last words I write before dying? For all I know, it could be this, or this. I remembered the dying words of George Mackay Brown: “I see hundreds and hundreds of ships sailing out of the harbour.” I remember the fragments Kafka wrote while dying, “lemonade everything was infinite,” his concern for the peony, the improvised performance—the incantation—I did at the Zinc Bar in 2015 using Kafka’s dying words, how J wept in the audience, then wrote me about the snow:

I am the guy, by the way, who said hi on the street, in the snow, after your reading. … I did indeed cry after your Kafka-Cixous incantation, partly because that phrase has been magic to me my whole life. I read Cixous' novel by that name when I studied with her and Derrida in my twenties... Her seminars were amazing. One day, funnily enough, she gave a seminar on snow in Proust, simply because snow was on the ground in Paris. For all sorts of reasons your whole reading shook and tenderised me deeply. I suppose, with the snow through the tinted glass outside, it will forever be, my imagination of what you read will forever be blanche niege texte.

(standing on the corner in manhattan with that powdery snow i was looking at the flowers when you walked past actually, turned, swivelled, i had needed to get out of the bar because the reading had touched me so much . . . i then went and wandered in the snow for an hour, till i happened on a subway, and back to my friend's in brooklyn . . . i have been thinking more today about how effective your reading was to me. it sort of made me feel i could only read poetry from now on if i was embodied, since what convinced in your reading beyond the obvious was the adjustments to us, the audience, the interruptions, the ability to break off, and then the actual concentration because of the embodiments . . . at most poetry readings i am constantly thinking 'i am at a poetry reading' and can't really get beyond the poem-as-poem-at-reading. when you read i was suddenly completely focused. the bodily resonation was right, a recuperation of grace, so i could listen. like before the internet or something. it returned me all the way to early cixous and feminine writing and what that could still mean, a writing beyond master-works and over-sociality of tact, agua viva, what korine might call 'mistakist' heaven. it was my first time in new york. my last night. stop. for now. cut the flowers.)

[nospendtillbrooklyn]

!!

I realized today (look no one said I was going to be -good- at this) that I have one whole follower. This is infinitely pleasing to me. Because that means at least one other person on this rock hurling through space relates to what I am trying to do. Thank you, person!

[tellywoodtrash]

Hi! How are you?

Who is your favorite character of all time? How many shows do you think you've watched till date (an estimate maybe)

I couldn't pick just ONE character! I'm ANCIENTTTTTTT (in my 30s) and have been mainlining media since the age of like 1 (shout out to Sesame Street, I still watch the clips), how could I possibly pick ONE character out of the 100s (if not 1000s) of shows I've watched???

Some top faves though, through the years:

Chandler Bing (Friends)

Jake Peralta (Brooklyn Nine Nine)

Captain Dad Holt (Brooklyn Nine Nine)

Gina Linetti (Brooklyn Nine Nine)

Christina Yang (Grey's Anatomy)

Villanelle (Killing Eve)

Crowley (Good Omens)

Anika (Ishqbaaaz)

Omkara Singh Oberoi (Strictly Pre-DBO Ishqbaaaz)

Gauri Kumari Sharma (DBO/Ishqbaaaz)

Kusum Kothari (Shaadi Mubarak)

Hong Cha Young (Vincenzo)

Lee Ik Jun (Hospital Playlist)

Porsche Kittisawasd (Kinnporsche)

Tankhun Theerapanyakul (Kinnporsche)

Kimhan Theerapanyakul (Kinnporsche)

Prapai (Love in The Air)

.... Ok, I think that's quite enough. (Also I've reached the Tumblr image limit, lmao.) Safe to say, my brain is always filled with my beloved blorbos and I spend most of my time thinking of them. 🥰🥰🥰

[niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian]

🥶 with Mario bros for the drabble prompt if you fancy it?:)

Sorry this one took so long! I was planning on posting this a while ago, but it ended up in my drafts, and I didn't realize it till this morning 🙃 😅

🥶 Cold

Writing prompts

~~~~~~~~

"Lu."

"Shush it, Mario."

"Luigi..."

"Stop it."

"Come on, man. I can see you shivering from way over here!"

For some reason, his brother was acting more stubborn than usual today. The two were visiting their family for the holiday, and that it had been awhile since they've gone back to Brooklyn for anything other than a quick repair job or wanting to meet with their ever growing fans.

Unfortunately, the moment they decided to spend a full week at home was also when Mother Nature decided to launch the entire state in a bad snow front, meaning that even though they didn't get alot of snow, the temperature outside was cold as artic and everyone was bundled up to conserve whatever body heat they had left.

That is except for Luigi, who thought it was fine just wearing one thin jacket and only having his hoodie up over his head. No gloves, no ear muffs, not even a scarf!

And the guy wasn't allowing him to even offer any of the ones that he has. Not that either of them would back down anyway.

"I s-said I'm f-f-fine!" Luigi's teeth audible chattered, and he tried to look angry at his brother, who only looked back at him with an expressionless face.

"Wow, yeah, very convincing there, Lu." He rolled his eyes and raised his brow as Luigi matched his eye roll.

"Geez, we're almost at Ma and Pop's anyway, it's not that big of a deal."

'You say that now, but you'll regret it in the morning when you catch a cold....'

He finally put his foot down, without trying to slip on a patch of ice he was standing on. "Okay, look, you're either gonna share this jacket with me, or I'm going to have to force you to wear it. And you and I both know that'll end quickly."

He watched his brother pause in his walk, wrapping his arms tighter around his body, whether to keep himself warm or a last act of stubbornness melting away was his best guess.

"If you're making up your mind, hurry it up cause I'm freezing my butt off right now." He tapped his foot impatiently as he motioned the flap of his coat out to him, trying to ignore the brisk cold air now hitting his chest.

Luigi had finally turned around. His face was unreadable as he trudged his feet against the frozen sidewalk and scuttled into the left side of Mario's winter coat. He had to kneel down a bit so the two were at equal height, but from the way he was shivering, he had confirmed that the testa dura was acting like this for no reason.

"Wipe that grin off your face, Mario." He heard Luigi mumble as they walked a steady pace across the pavement. "You don't have to rub it in."

"Oh, I know I don't to, you've just proved how damn stubborn you are when you need to admit when you're wrong."

"Shut up."

"Nope."

*testa dura- hard head(ed)

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

here is a preview for my next Armand/Daniel one shot (which I will hopefully finish and post sometime tomorrow) under a read more bc it's a bit long

It’s been nearly a month since Daniel and Armand have reconciled.  Regaining his memories awakened those old feelings.  After the interview, Daniel tried to go back to his normal life.  He didn’t last long.  Once he remembered Armand, he wanted him.  It’s like he’s found the missing puzzle piece that completes him.  

Which yeah, that’s not exactly healthy.  But Daniel is old and sick; he figures he’s got ten to fifteen years tops.  Years of drug use have had their toll, and there isn’t exactly a cure for Parkinson’s.  So if he wants to spend his last few years with the love of his life, who cares?  They’ve already damaged each other in all the ways that matter.  And yet, there’s still so much love there.

Daniel loves Armand so much it makes him crazy.

Worse, it makes him insanely horny.  They haven’t fucked yet.  Armand tried getting in his pants the very night they got back together.  Daniel had refused him, saying at his age he couldn’t get it up anymore.  He’s about seventy-five percent sure that Armand knows he’s lying.  Even without peeking in his head; he’s learned to read Daniel’s expressions well enough.

And Daniel has told him not to go digging around in there without his permission.  As far as he knows, Armand hasn’t.  It’s not so bad, not having sex.  Not like he was having much before.  Everyone his age is either married or in long term relationships.  Sure, there’s a few other divorcees, but none he’s really interested in.  So it’s been awhile.  

It’s not like he’s not getting off in other ways.  Armand bites him almost every night, and that feels just as good as sex.  Plus, he knows for a fact that Armand considers it more intimate.  Still, Daniel worries.  With Louis gone off and living the single life–not that that will last long–Armand isn’t getting it anywhere else either.  He doesn’t want it to cause problems between them.

But he can’t do it.  Armand remembers him from his youth, when he was willing to try anything at least once.  Back then he was a lot more flexible, and he didn’t sag in the wrong places.  Armand may think he wants to be with him, but the experience will prove lackluster.  He can’t do the things he used to do anymore.  He’ll just disappoint Armand.

The nightlight clicks on, light catching Armand’s fiery eyes and making them seem to glow.  “What’s wrong, my love?  Usually you’re asleep by now.”

Sleeping during the day isn’t nearly as hard as Daniel expected it to be.  His circadian rhythm has always been off, he doesn’t get sleepy till around 3 in the morning.  Sleeping during the day has actually done wonders for his insomnia.  

Daniel rolls to his side and meets Armand’s gaze.  Armand installed those fancy windows he had in Dubai to Daniel’s house here in Brooklyn.  They never really talked about it; Armand spent the night the first night and then just never left.  Daniel doesn’t really mind; he wants Armand here.  

“Can’t shut off my brain,” Daniel says.

“Perhaps I can help,” Armand says, and reaches a hand to his neck to stroke his thumb over the bite mark he left earlier.  

Heat flares in Daniel’s core and he sucks in a sharp breath.  God, he wants Armand.  Wants those teeth inside him at the same time as his cock.  He wants Armand to fuck him stupid.  Sometimes, when it was really good, or especially intense, he would get all floaty after.  Like he was disconnected from his body and everything was fuzzy and loose.  

Armand’s eyes darken and his hand closes around Daniel’s throat and holds him in place.  Then his mouth is on Daniel’s and Daniel sinks into the kiss.  Armand always kisses him a little before he bites him, and it’s always nice.  There’s a sharper edge to it now then there has been.  Armand’s tongue is fucking his mouth, and his lips are moving against his perfectly.  

Armand shifts, putting Daniel on his back.  He uses his free hand to spread Daniel’s thighs so he can slot between them.  He kisses Daniel until Daniel has to break away to catch his breath.  Then Armand nuzzles into his neck and breathes in his scent.  His hand moves to Daniel’s hair and snatches his head back.  He licks a hot stripe up Daniel’s neck and Daniel moans wantonly. 

Armand kisses his throat and sighs.  “My beautiful boy, let me make love to you.”

Daniel stiffens.  “I can’t, I told you-”

“Daniel,” Armand cuts him off, voice stern.  “Tell me the truth.  Why don’t you want to be with me?”

Daniel can feel his face turn red.  “I don’t want to disappoint you.  I’m not a spring chicken anymore.”

Armand’s brow furrows.  “You mortals have such peculiar expressions.  I suppose that’s referring to your age?”

Daniel looks away, nervously twisting his hands.  Armand catches them and presses a kiss to the back of each.  “You can’t disappoint me, beloved.  I’ve longed for you these years apart.  Let me have you.”

Daniel snorts.  “I’m old and out of shape.  It won’t be like it was before.”

“Do you truly think that matters?”

Daniel feels his chest tighten and he has to blink to keep the tears from welling. “Are you even physically attracted to me anymore? Because eventually the nostalgia will wear off and you’ll-”

“I’ll what, Daniel?”Armand says sharply.  “Do tell me.”

“You’ll get tired of me.  Realize I’m not the same person anymore.  And you’ll leave.”  Daniel didn’t realize how much he feared it, until he said it out loud.  

“I’m not the one who leaves.”

Daniel winces.  He might deserve that a little.  He did run off quite a bit.  But Armand let him leave, let him stay gone.  If he really loved him, why didn’t he just find him and bring him back?

Armand’s gaze softens and he bends down to gently kiss along Daniel’s throat.  Daniel allows it, sinking down into the mattress. It feels nice; arousal coursing through his entire body.  Fuck, he wants Armand.  

Armand nuzzles that spot right beneath his ear that always gets him hot, before sucking on it.  It feels heavenly.  Armand pulls back to pepper kisses over his throat.  “I love you, my beautiful boy.  I’ll never tire of you.  I’ll never stop wanting you.”

He has such conviction in his voice.  Daniel wants to believe it, but he isn’t sure.  “I’m not beautiful, and I’m not a boy anymore.”

“You’re as lovely to me as the day I set eyes on you,” Armand says, then moves his mouth near Daniel’s ear.  “And you’re my boy, always.”

[power-chords]

After the war, as a student first at Brooklyn College and then at Columbia, Hilberg was quickly drawn to the academic study of the fate he had escaped in Europe but that many of his relatives had not. "Briefly I weighed the possibility of writing a dissertation about an aspect of war crimes, and then I woke up," he explained in his autobiography. "It was the evidence that I wanted. My subject would be the destruction of the European Jews." He was soon spending long hours in a torpedo factory in Virginia that had been transformed into a repository for countless boxes of captured Nazi archives. Hilberg’s decision to study this material was not considered a professionally prudent one at the time, which may seem odd in the current era of Holocaust movies and proliferating Holocaust studies departments. But in the late 1940s and ’50s, the genocide of the Jews was a subject ignored in academic circles. History books of the era focused on the cult of Hitler and the Nazi terror but generally did not identify the slaughter of the Jews as a central part of the story of World War II. In the United States, the first college-level course dedicated to the subject of the Holocaust was taught in 1974–by Raul Hilberg. More than twenty years earlier, when Franz Neumann, Hilberg’s adviser at Columbia, learned of his dissertation topic, he quipped, "It’s your funeral."

Hilberg’s study opens with a bold statement: "Lest one be misled by the word ‘Jews’ in the title, let it be pointed out that this is not a book about the Jews. It is a book about the people who destroyed the Jews." Hilberg toiled for nearly a decade in the archives of the Nuremberg trials and other collections of recovered German documents. During his last lecture, which he delivered in Vermont just a few months before his death, he recalled the void that engulfed him at the outset of his research. "I was transported into a world for which I was totally unprepared," he explained in his dry, austere manner. "I would read a document, but I would not understand what it meant. The context had to be built record by record."

In Hilberg’s telling, the murder of the Jews was not a product simply of Hitler’s anti-Semitic rage (as Dawidowicz would later argue), nor was it preordained the moment the Nazi Party coalesced or even by the terror of Kristallnacht. "The destruction of the Jews was an administrative process, and the annihilation of Jewry required the implementation of systematic administrative measures in successive steps." Hilberg presented a staggering picture of the bureaucratic machinery of extermination, which developed slowly over time and inundated every sector of German society–not just the Einsatzgruppen and the SS but also the finance ministry, foreign office and railways; everyone knew what was happening, and everyone cooperated.

Hilberg defended his dissertation in 1955 and submitted it to prominent publishing houses. It was roundly rejected until 1961, when a young press in Chicago, Quadrangle Books, decided to publish the work, printing it in double columns on cheap paper. From there, the massive tome began quietly and slowly to win over admirers. In a glowing review in Commentary, the British historian Hugh Trevor-Roper wrote that Hilberg’s book was "not yet another chronicle of horrors. It is a careful, analytic, three-dimensional study of a social and political experience unique in history: an experience which no one could believe possible till it happened and whose real significance still bewilders us." Michael Marrus, the foremost historiographer of the Holocaust, says that it is now generally agreed that before Hilberg "there was not a subject. No panoramic, European-wide sense of what had happened. That’s what Hilberg provided."