#oh and let’s add on the fact that last week my mom was in the hospital

[dear-ao3]

so. as you may know it’s christmas eve. as you probably don’t know i am eastern european. and probably the only real tradition anyone holds onto is christmas eve. normally my great aunt does all the food and very begrudgingly sometimes lets everyone help make like. one thing.

well.

this year. the year of our lord two thousand and twenty four. she decided she was done cooking and it was up to everyone else.

so i got a phone call from my mom a few weeks ago being like hey so. you’re making the cake. got it? good.

the cake in question is a walnut cake. i was entrusted with my great aunts recipe about seven years ago. i’ve made it twice. the first time i fucked up the frosting quantity. the second time i fucked up the eggs. both times were passable at best and notably! my great aunt did not taste either of them.

and i have to make this cake. on christmas eve. it is dessert. for everyone. my extended family will all be eating the cake. the walnut cake. on christmas eve. even my great aunt.

so yesterday, december 23 if you are counting, i went on the annual Last Minute Christmas Food Shopping Trip with my father, watched him climb into the case to get his half and half like he does every year, and stressed about my cake as i made sure i had all of the ingredients.

then. we went to my great aunts house. where i was met with Trial Number 1: The Cognac

this cake has cognac in the frosting. not a big deal really. except for the fact that my mom hates that there is cognac in the frosting. (my mom is hell bent on making christmas eve dinner vaguely healthier. no one else agrees.) and i was to be making the cake in my moms house.

also important to note: we (as in my parents) do not own cognac. mostly because none of us drink.

so my great aunt is like oh i have to give you the cognac. cause she knows. i am baking the cake. the walnut cake. (my dad told her. he is a traitor). and i say okay. sure. this won’t be a problem at all.

so she gives me. a shot of cognac. and when i say a shot. i mean an Entirely Full Shot Glass of Three Hundred Dollar Cognac. in a jar. for the cake. the walnut cake. that i have to make.

upon bringing the cognac home my mom says no we’re not putting that in. the cognac sits on the counter in its jar. no one touches it.

then i was met with Trial Number 2: The Frosting.

this recipe requires a pound of chopped walnuts. first. i couldn’t even find the walnuts. my sister and i searched high and low and in every cabinet we could find but no nuts. i called my mom. and said mom where are the walnuts? and she said. “they’re in the nut bag behind the basement door.”

oh of course. how could i have missed the nut bag? a holiday bag full of bags of nuts that was half hidden by wrapping paper and also behind a door?

in any case. could i have used a food processor? absolutely. did i? no. half because i forgot and half because i didn’t want to accidentally grind the walnuts into a paste. so i enlisted the help of my younger sister to chop the walnuts By Hand while i embarked on the real devil: the frosting.

which remember. is supposed to have cognac.

so i cream my butter. i add my sugar. i’m careful not to over sugar. i taste it a million times. i add my coffee and my vanilla extract (instead of cognac. which is still sitting on the counter) and it was all going so well until. the butter rebelled.

now remember. one time when i made this. seven years ago. i made too little frosting. so i made more this time. and i thought i had all my conversions right but evidently i did not because suddenly there was too much liquid in my frosting and it split.

the frosting for the walnut cake that everyone was going to eat. on christmas eve. the very next day.

i felt like a contestant on great british bake-off getting smited by the tent.

so i did the logical thing and shoved the whole mess into the fridge hoping that it would sort itself out overnight.

then it was time to face Trial Number Three: The Cake Itself.

as i have said this cake is a walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake that has been at christmas eve longer than i have been alive. and it requires no less than ten egg whites. which i whipped and i added to my walnuts and shoved the whole thing into the oven in my two baking dishes.

only to discover no less than 40 minutes later that the batter in the pans was Not Even (despite my best efforts). so i cooked one longer than the other and hoped that i hadn’t monumentally fucked up the walnut cake. like i had the frosting. which was in the fridge. and i was ignoring.

which leads to Trial Number Four: The Egg Yolk Cake

see i had ten egg yolks. i didn’t know what to do with them. my mom said flush them. my dad said make a custard. i proposed making egg nog. my mom said she didn’t want it in the house cause it was too fattening (a blatantly incorrect statement. please, if you are reading this, go drink a glass of eggnog. or some other fun festive drink. food is for the soul.) so i produced a recipe for an egg yolk pound cake. i made it. i still don’t know if it came out good cause i haven’t tasted it. i hope it did. but that was not the point. the point is the walnut cake. the christmas eve walnut cake.

and the following morning i was met with Trial Number Five: The Frosting Part 2

first i threw my failed frosting back in the mixer and it immediately secreted a brackish combination of vanilla extract and coffee so i did the only thing i could. facetimed my dad and said “father there are problems abound.” and he gave me the fatherly advice of “make it again.”

and so i did.

with more correct measurements. still scared it would split at any second.

though it didn’t.

and i didn’t add the cognac.

maybe no one will be able to tell???

my mom said that if anyone asks the first batch of frosting failed and i had to toss it. this is technically true.

but i had frosting. i had two uneven cakes. and it was time for Trial Number Six: Decorating

decorating cakes is easily in my top ten least favorite activities. decorating the christmas eve walnut cake is easily in my top three least favorite activities. because i am terrible at decorating cakes. and also because it has a filling.

the filling is jam. and i once again made the wrong choice because i put the jam on first before the frosting. which to be fair is what the directions say. but as everyone knows, the directions in recipes you get from your eastern european great aunt are not the real directions. so now i had to smear butter cream. on top of jam. for the filling of the walnut cake. for christmas eve. that we would be eating in a few hours.

and we didn’t have a cake plate. we had a large dish.

i had to use my fingers. i had to use three spatulas. i got jam everywhere. but i did it. and as soon as i set the top cake on top of the filling i realized my monumental mistake: i was supposed to trim down the cakes.

so now they were uneven. and lopsided. and there was nothing i, a mere mortal tasked with the impossible task of making christmas eve walnut cake, could do about it.

so i continued to spread my frosting. which i had enough of. and tried and failed to not get jam everywhere.

in the end it was almost presentable. not great. slightly lopsided. and definitely not as nice as any of my great aunts cakes.

which left me with Trial Number 7: Chilling It

our fridge was being taken up by other important christmas eve things (though not as important as my cake. the walnut cake) so i had to put it in the car. which was fine because there is snow on the ground.

i covered my cake. the walnut cake. in tin foil and hoped i wouldn’t accidentally squish it. and then i went outside. i tried to steal my moms shoes to walk outside. she was not impressed.

“you know, saph,” she said. “some of the time you’re pretty great. the other half of the time you’re really weird.”

i could not agree more.

i put my cake on the trunk. prayed to the cake gods and went inside.

on the one hand if the cake is good, i will be stuck making walnut cake for christmas eve for the rest of my life. on the other hand, if it sucks i will never have to make another one.

Trial Number Eight: The Tasting still waits.

[nialls-harmonica]

I have had such a stressful day between working over 14 hours and some of my coworkers being just absolutely fucking useless and doing whatever the fuck they want and I’m really trying so hard to be positive because there is so much devastation after this hurricane and I really came out of it unscathed and I know I’m so fortunate but at the same time stress has been so high all week and now pile that on top of the day I’ve had and I’m exhausted and hungry and the whole positivity and gratitude things are just hard to feel right now😞

[medusapelagia]

Serenade

written for @corrodedcoffinfest (Prompt 17: This one's for you) and @astrangersummer (Week 12: Forgotten) Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: none Words: 1000

(So... this entry for the Corroded Coffin Fest and the Steddie week got A LOT of attention and people asked me for a sequel So this can be read as a stand-alone or a sequel of Love at first sight.)

Steve can’t suffocate a whimper when the curtains of his room open unexpectedly and Robin turns toward him with a grin.

“Raise and shine, baby! We have another incredible shift at Target!”

“Fuck you, Robin. I’m sick, I can’t go to work.”

Robin lifts an eyebrow, and points at the glass of water and the Advil pills on Steve’s night table, “Not sick, babe, just in hangover, and given the fact you decided it was a good idea got wasted without me I think that spending your hangover with me dealing with customers is the right punishment.”

Muttering that he feels he’s been punished more than enough, Steve gulps down water and pills, grabs the wrinkled clothes he finds on his chair, and follows Robin into the kitchen, where a warm toast and a cup of coffee are already waiting for him.

“Still hate you, but you’re the best.”

“I know you do, dingus. Now, want to talk about last night?”

Steve tilts his head frowning in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Robin grabs her phone, opens WhatsApp, and plays an audio message in which a really drunk Steve stutters something about having found the man of his dreams.

“I’m going to marry him, Rob! Will you be my bestwoman?” Steve’s drunken voice says.

“So… who’s this mystery man?”

“Who? I have no idea who you are talking about.” Steve shrugs in confusion, “I was obviously drunk. I don’t remember a thing.”

Robin scrutinizes him for a long time before nodding to herself, “Ok, fine. But this is another reason why you’re not allowed to go out drinking without me!” She declares, pouring two glasses of orange juice for both of them.

“What about your date? Is Chrissy everything you were looking for?”

“She is not.” Steve sighs, ready to comfort her when Robin adds, “She’s way better! She is fun! And beautiful! And when she laughs she snorts so adorably… and we’re fucking late! Let’s go!” Robin says, grabbing Steve’s arm and pushing him out of the door while she keeps telling him about the amazing date she had the night before. 

When they get outside the crispy air makes Robin shiver, so she reaches into Steve’s jacket’s pocket to warm herself, but she retreats her hand with a gagging sound, “Didn’t your mom teach you to throw away used tissues?” she asks, making a disgusted face.

Steve frowns and puts his hand in his pocket, retrieving a crumpled napkin with some pen’s shaky signs. He opens the napkin to get a better look and finds a telephone number and a name: Eddie.

“Holy fucking shit! You did meet someone!” Robin grins, “Are you sure you don’t remember him?”

Shaking his head, red with embarrassment, Steve confirms he doesn’t remember anything.

“Ok. Only one thing to do.” Robin grabs Steve’s phone, “Call him.”

“What?! No! What if he’s a psycho? Or if I made a fool out of myself? It’s better to forget about it.”

“Ok.” Robin shrugs, turning her back to Steve who glares at her with suspicion, it's not like her to surrender so easily.

“What…? Robin! No!" He says trying to grab the phone, but she’s already dialing the number, “Robin what the fuck!”

“Hello?” A warm voice replies after a couple of rings.

“Oh… Hey… Eddie? I… I’m Steve.”

“Oh, Stevie.” Someone in the back makes a satiric comment while the man on the phone opens a door and moves somewhere quieter, “Are you feeling better? Did you drink a lot of water like I suggested?”

“I… yeah… I did… but…”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

That word triggers something in Steve's mind, a blurred memory of a group of men wearing leather jackets and talking loudly.

“I… Look… I know this sounds bad but I don’t remember what happened last night and I wanted to apologize if I made a fool out of myself.”

“Oh. Ok. Not what I was expecting, but it’s fine.” The voice sounds disappointed and it makes Steve’s heart ache.

“I’m so sorry…”

“It’s fine. Listen I have to go, the guys and I have a little concert and we’re in the middle of the soundcheck.”

“Oh. Yeah. You signed a big contract, right?”

“So you do remember something.” The man points out, amused, “You know what? Why don’t you come to see us? Tonight, at the HideOut, I promise not to let you drink until we talk.”

“At the HideOut? Tonight?” Robin grabs Steve's arm and points at herself, “Can I bring a friend with me?”

“Sure. See you there.”

When Eddie closes the call and goes back to the stage, Jeff is grinning, “So, is he still in love with you?”

“Don’t think so. He doesn’t remember me.”

“Oh, this sucks.” Gareth says, stopping the cymbals, “So what are you going to do?”

“The only thing anyone in his right mind would do: serenade him in front of a crowd!” Eddie chuckles while he grabs his guitar and adds a new song to their track listing and Freak winks at him.

“Bold choice.”

“I’m not going to chicken out. He said he loved me, right?”

When the doors open it isn't hard for Eddie to spot Steve, who is wearing a bright yellow sweater and stands out like a sore thumb in an ocean of dark jeans and black t-shirts.

They play the single they have just recorded and the crowd explodes, but Eddie’s eyes are pinned on Steve when he announces “Stevie, this one's for you.”

Eddie moves around the stage, getting back to back with Freak while playing, but he gets closer to the audience, searching for Steve's eyes when he sings, “And, want to treasure the rest of your days here, and, give you pleasure in so many ways dear.”

Once the concert ends, Eddie asks to bring Steve backstage and when he sees him, he winks, "I think we're doing things the other way around, but... would you like to go on a date with me?"

[crazyk-imagine]

Gym and Admin Work

Pairing: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x Front desk!reader

Characters: Santiago "Pope" Garcia, Front desk!reader

Warnings: Fluff, Santiago being a flirt, reader being sarcastic, the boys for sure tease the man, they lowkey ship the reader and Tago, cute date moment, reader and Tago are hooked

Word Count: 1.2k

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

“Hey,” he leans against the counter, smiling at you.

You glance over your shoulder and ignore him (again). 'This guy again?' You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time this week.

You should have listened to your friend when she said he’s going to keep coming by until you decide to accept going on a date with him or not.

It's been a never-ending cycle with him, but you can also admit that you're not completely upset over the attention he's been giving you… which makes no sense.

But, as you tell her, you like to make it fair by teasing him back.

You know, treat people the way you want to be treated, to which your best friend gives you the oddest look.

The more you think about it, the funnier it gets because he could say the most unheard of lines that come to him naturally, leaving your brain fried because no guy has given you the same attention he does.

But the funny part is when you use one of your lines on him, they leave him to be the quiet mess. It doesn't happen often but you can't lie, you love when it does.

"Same time next week?"

He crosses his arms and leans forward. "You know me so well."

You hum, clicking on the schedule to add him in. "I like to think I'm good at my job but sure."

"You're more than good."

You glance up at him from your lashes. "So, you keep saying."

"And I mean it every time, maybe more than the last." He lets his lips curve upward to smirk, loving the fact that he has your attention right now.

You avoid looking back at him, not wanting him to see the effect he has on you.

You wait for him to leave so you can focus and finish your shift but he’s making it harder for you to concentrate.

“Are my dazzling good looks distracting to you?”

You scoff, turning back to him. “You wish.”

And there it is.

“You know how much you flirt with me, you’d think you would have made more progress by now.”

“Oh, believe me. I’ve made the right amount.”

You roll your eyes and push your chair back. “Well seeing as it’s my lunch break-”

“Let me take you out.”

“What?”

“I- let me take you out.”

You furrow your brows. “I don’t know.”

“It’ll be to make up for all the flirting you pretend to hate.”

“Sounds tempting.”

“I knew it would. I’ll take you anywhere you want?”

“Anywhere?”

He internally starts panicking, thinking about how he’s barely got ten dollars to his name, finding the extra cash they left behind was worth a little more than he expected.

He’s lucky to be alive right now after all the surgeries.

Goddamn, greedy son of a-

-

“Here?” You dragged him to a mom and pop shop.

You stare at the sign with a soft smile. “Yeah, right here is perfect.”

“Let’s go inside then?”

-

He looks around, wondering why you brought him here.

“The usual?” Your favorite waitress, Dottie asks.

You nod with a smile as she leads you to your favorite spot in the joint.

“You've been here before?” Santiago asks, wondering just how long you’ve been coming.

You shrug. “A few times.”

“Seems like more than a few,” he teases.

“What can I say? This place reminds me of home.”

He nods, stirring the sugar into the coffee. “What was that like?”

You pause, wondering if you heard him right. “What?”

“What was your home like? Your childhood, cringey teenage years. I want to hear it all,” he glances down, stirring the little creamer he added to his coffee.

You pause, unsure of how to proceed here. “What- what do you mean?”

He glances up, catching your nervous gaze. “I want to hear about what you were like in your younger years.”

“You want to hear more?” You ask with a confused pout.

He nods, sipping his coffee.

You gulp, “how long do you have?”

“I got as long as you’ll keep me sitting here. Hence, the coffee.”

The corner of your lips twitch. “You planned on opening me up, huh?”

He nods, pinching his thumb and index finger together to say a little bit.

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at him. “You had this planned since you got in the car, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

You chuckle through your nose at his nonchalant behavior. “You just want to break me down and interrogate me, don’t you?”

He shakes his head, giving you his full attention. “No, I want to get to know you. Believe me, there’s a difference.”

You perk up in your seat. “Well then, Mr. Interrogator, why don’t you ask me a question and I give you an answer but only if you’ll do the same?”

He shrugs, “I don’t see why not?”

You smile, “good. Now…”

-

You two stay until your Dottie tells you they’re about to lock up, leaving you to drive him back to his friend's place.

“I had a good time.”

You don’t want him to leave.

“So did I.”

You glance away from him, unable to keep eye contact with him anymore. “I- can we do this again sometime?”

He smiles, loving how nervous you are and can’t hold eye contact with him. He leans in, cupping your cheek; his eyes switching between your eyes and your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

You take a deep breath and let out a quiet mumble, “uh huh.”

He leans in, leaving enough space for you to back out.

You cup his cheeks and pull him closer, practically over the gear shift. You part from the other to breathe. “Wow.”

“Told you I’d be worth it.”

You scoff and shove his shoulder, “and there goes all the progress we made this evening.”

He smirks, “I don’t think so. I think this just proved I’m able to keep up with you.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “get out before I kick you out.”

“That’s not nice to say to your new boyfriend.”

You let out a surprised scoff.  “Someone’s optimistic.”

“I have one foot in the door, excuse me for being a little cocky.”

You shake your head, making sure he gets in before you take off.

-

The smile doesn’t come off your face for the rest of the evening.

Your cheeks hurt more when you look at your phone and see your text notification pop up and your best friend's name pops up before his text.

HottoTrot24

“I told you you wouldn’t regret giving him a shot” Sent Read 10:34pm

“I’m happy you finally decided to do something about it” Sent Read 10:34pm

Santiago … *delete name* Santi

Santi typing…

“Wanted to tell you gnight” Sent Read 10:36pm

Santi’sGirl

“Go to sleep you dork, get some rest. You need it after today” Sent Read 10:39pm

Santi

“I wanted to say gnight first and… Don’t forget to dream of me” Sent Read 10:41pm

You roll your eyes as your cheeks hurt.

There was no way you weren’t already smitten with this man, he wormed his way into your heart and mind without you realizing it… and you don’t care.

[spahhzy]

Free as can be~

Ashley sighed into her sleeve for what seemed to be the umpteenth time, causing Andrew to look down from his book he was reading.

"You okay Ash?" He asked, shifting himself to next to his sister.

"Just bored..." Ashley said with a pout, and Andrew rolled his eyes.

"What? You mean living motel to motel on the run from law enforcement, cults, and an organ harvesting firm isn't exciting enough for you, " He said sarcastically as Ashley tossed a pillow at his face.

"Nope," she said, giggling before suddenly her stomach growled.

"You should probably go get something from the vending machine, Ashley." Said Andrew, which cause Ashley to grumble.

"I don't want no stupid cookie again... let's go out to eat! " Said Ashley with enthusiasm rising up and standing on the bed.

"No"

"Wah, oh come on, Andy, I know for a fact you have gotten sick and tired of cookies by now," Ashley argued back.

"What part of 'on the run' did you not understand?" He countered, and Ashley huffed before crossing her arms.

"We're only on the run cause you keep killing people," She said as Andrew breathed deeply, knowing his sister is right and wrong in what she said.

"But that doesn't mean we can't go and eat nice every once and a while" She complained.

"Ashley, it was just last week that I took you to a restaurant, and you almost stuck a fork down our waitresses' throat." Andrew complained as Ashley looked at him with a surprise look.

"That hussy was undressing you with her eyes. You could have gotten sick!" Ashley explained. 'Only I can do that!' Is what she wanted to add as well.

"Yeah, well, what's to say you won't do that at another restaurant, Leyley?" Andrew questioned, and Leyley held a hand over her heart.

"I promise to be on my best behavior...scouts honor"

"You were never a scout, Ashley..." said Andrew as he got up from the bed.

"And for good reason, you'd probably murder the camp counselor if they tried to touch me," She said, and Andrew knew she was right, he probably murder anyone their that tried to take his leyley from him.

"Fuck it, why not we'll go to a Benny's Diner how about that?" Ashley cheered jumping on the bed like she was a child.

"Yes, food! Actual none vending machine food!" She said and Andrew just smiled before tossing a pillow at her head causing her to fall off the bed.

"Get dressed dumbass"

-

Andrew looked out the dinner window as Ashley was eating happily away at her meal.

Across the street from him was a bar, he was assuming it was some sort of biker bar with how many motorcycles there were.

Motorcycles...

Looking at the machines, Andrew minds began to slip into a memory of some simple times.

-

"Wow, Andy, I can't believe you blew some of your college money on this, Mom's going to be pissed," said Ashley as she walked around a nice black motorcycle.

"I make enough to put it back Ashley, sides since when did you care about what mom thinks?" Andrew said as he cleaned off the bike a little.

"I don't, just surprised is all...my big Andy thinks he's so cool now, huh? " Teased Ashley as Andrew sat on the bike, ignoring her.

"Gonna attract all those whores to aren't you? Gonna have them ride along with you, hmm?" Ashley said with a hint of jealousy in her voice.

"That's going to be hard to do with you around," He said to her.

"Wow...tell me how you really feel?"

"Oh, leyley if I did, I'm almost certain I'd be in jail," Andrew teased back causing Ashely to blush and look away, not at all liking how her brother can sometimes...sometimes push her buttons, suddenly the bike road to life as Andrew revved it a couple times.

Enjoying the noise it made.

Ashley shook her head, finding truth in the saying 'boys will be boys' and looking at Andrew's smiling face, butterflies began dancing in her stomach.

"Catch."

Ashley snapped out of her stupor as Andrew tossed a helmet into her direction.

"Wuh?"

"Come on, leyley, it will be just like old times on the bicycle we had remember?" She must have remembered.

Their folks got him a bicycle for his tenth birthday. Ashley didn't get a bicycle, just coloring books, so on her birthday, he stole pegs off the other kids' bike and attached it to his bike so that Ashley could always ride with him.

It was the best gift Ashley got on that day, being able to ride free with her big brother and it was a great gift for them both as It was one of the rare instances in their childhood where they could just enjoy being kids.

Andrew never forgot the big smile Ashley had that day of being able to ride on a motorcycle with him.

-

Andrew sighed, which caused Ashley to stop her rampant chewing, looking at Andrew. Ashley reached over with her fork and poked him.

"What's wrong, Andy?" She said with a mouthful, and Andrew bonked her on the head.

"I didn't need to see your mouthful," He said to her. Ashley giggled before swallowing.

"I'm sure you love seeing me swallow something else" She wiggled her eyebrows at him and Andrew almost snorted out his coffee he was drinking.

"Still...what is on your mind?" She asked, setting her fork down and taking a sip of her soda.

"Just reminiscent, I guess..." He confessed to her as he returned his gaze back to her.

"Ooh are you reminiscing about my fat fucking tits again?" this time Andrew choked on his coffee and began coughing and blushing as Ashley laughed causing the other occupants to look at the pair strangely.

Andrew tossed a piece of toast at his sister's head.

"Hey! That's perfectly good toast!"

-

The pair had finished their food without a hitch, and they swiftly left the diner after paying.

Now, it was time for a short walk back to the motel.

They proceeded past the bar where the group of bikers were, and as they proceeded to walk on by one biker in particular decided to try his luck.

"Hey sweetie, why don't you come over here and get the ride of a lifetime?" He said to her. Ashley just ignored him, giving him the middle finger, but Andrew, on the other hand, was silently fuming at how these bikers were looking and leering at his leyley...

"Lookie that boys, she's a real fiesty one, huh?" The leader said, earning a laugh from the rest of the gang. Andrew clenched his fist and gritted his teeth, Ashley sensing this took his arm and hugged it as they both walked past the biker.

"Hey, when you're done with the stooge, I'll ne waiting for you, Lil lady," said the leader as they Andrew and Ashley both rounded a corner out of sight.

-

Nothing was said as they made their way back to their motel, Ashley was a bit worried at seeing Andrew upset, but also...kinda liked how possessive he was.

Giving out a yawn, the food now giving her the sleepies.

"Get some rest, Ashley," Andrew said as he walked over and put a blanket over her.

"You...coming too...bed too?" She said, trying to stay awake, and Andrew just chuckled.

"After I clean up some stuff around the room, not really tired yet," He told her as Ashley violet eyes drooped more and more.

"Mmkay...love you," She said before finally she was out like a light.

"..." Andrew bent down before placing a kiss on her forehead as he looked at her calm expression.

He sat back down on the couch and waited a good whole hour to make sure Ashley was still asleep as he suddenly sat up from his couch, went into the kitchen, and procured his cleaver. Grabbing his jacket and stuffing the cleaver in his back pants pocket, he opened the door before stepping out into the darkness, giving one last look at Ashley before quietly closing the door.

-

"Man, did you see the tits on the dark-haired girl...what I would do that woman," said the sleazy biker as all his friends laughed and cheered him on.

"Alright, gang, I'm heading out. Don't cause too much of a ruckus," laughed the leader as he started his bike, the exhaust garbling loudly as the group cheered and said their goodbyes.

The biker drove for what was about five minutes when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw that same dude that was with that beautiful woman earlier leaving the diner.

That man was Andrew, and he was leaning against the wall next to a dark alley smoking a cigarette.

Pulling over to the curb, shutting off his bike and pocketing his keys in his black stained vest, he leaned on the same wall right next to Andrew.

"Hey buddy, so tell me, how's that hot piece of ass been treating you?" He asked Andrew said nothing as he smoked his cigarette.

"I'm sure she's a real freak in bed to ain't she" It took all of Andrew will power not to grab the man's throat and tear it out.

"Hey, I have an idea... Why not let me have a crack at her? I'll pay you for it, hmm?" He asked, and Andrew was inches away from slicing his throat.

"How much are you paying?" Andrew asked, hating himself for saying those words, but if everything worked out, then he would do what he needed to do.

"For a glorious pieace of ass like that, all the money that's in my pocket which is..." The man patted himself from pants pockets to vest pockets before finally procuring money.

"$777.77" He told him with a sick grin on his face, Andrew looked at the money as he looked like he was considering the offer.

"Let's talk about this more... discreetly," He said, making a motion to the dark alley as the sleazy biker grinned, thinking he was going to get his dick wet tonight.

Walking like he won the lottery, he entered into the alleyway, Andrew not too far behind as his green eyes glared balefully at him as he reached behind and grabbed his cleaver.

"Alright, let's dis -" he was cut off real quick as sharp steal found itself ingrained into his face, the biker could only gargle as Andrew gripped at the cleaver hard and ripped it from his face.

"As if someone like you will ever touch my leyley... see you in hell, " He said as he began relentlessly hitting the man's head with the cleaver over and over.

Andrew, finally out of his rage, looked at his work. He sighed, another body to his name. This one, though, was like that warden...another sleaze and one that he was happy to kill.

But now it was time to clean up. Luckily, he brought some gloves.

It took him less than a half hour to chop away at the body before throwing it into the dumpster.

Finally, it was time to just throw the clothes out, too, as he grabbed the bikers' vest, a key fell out and onto the floor. Inspecting it, he took a look at the end of the entrance of the alley to see the dead bikers motorcycle.

Andrew smiled.

-

Ashley awoke to the sound of the TV playing in the background. She looked at the time on the alarm clock.

10:00pm.

"Andrew?"

Silence.

Looking around the room, She called out again.

"Andrew!"

Nothing.

Panic began to set in as a million thoughts went through her head.

'Was he taken?'

'Was he killed?'

'Did some floozy seduce him?'

'Did he....leave me?'

And before she could answer any of those questions, she heard the loud rumbling a bike make its way into the parking lot of the motel as she suddenly realized that Andrew went out to go fight that biker for how he talked to her.

While she would be swooning over the fact that her Andy was fighting for her honor, she had realized that Andrew was one man, and he couldn't just take on a small gaggle of bikers and if one was here that meant...

"No! Don't think such thoughts... just go and interrogate this stupid biker and find out where your Andy is, " She said to herself, going under her bed, pulling out her revolver. She stormed the front door, ripping it open and aimed the gun at the biker.

"You better tell me where my fucking Andy is you bastard!" She shouted as the biker quickly held his hands up.

"Ashley what the fuck!?" Came the voice inside the helmet, Ashley was so close to pulling the trigger and blowing this fuckers brains out when suddenly the man took the helmet off revealing.

"Waaaaah Annnndy!?" said Ashley as she tossed the gun back inside before running up to him as Andrew caught her in a hug and spun her around.

"I'm not going to ask what the whole gun thing was," Andrew said to her as Ashley nuzzled her face into his chest, relishing I'm his warmth.

"I...I thought I lost you to those stupid bikers," Ashley mumbled, and Andrew shook his head.

"No, leyley, I wouldn't dare leave you." He told her in earnest as he suddenly stepped to the side.

"So... like it?" He asked her, and she looked at the bike and then back to him.

"How did you get this?" She asked, eyeing him suspiciously, and Andrew just whistled but was slapped on the shoulder.

"What it was Free nighty nine!" He said with a serious face, and Ashley just looked at him with an expression that said 'really?'.

"Okay, it was a generous donation," He said to her, putting a hand on his heart when he said that.

"Did you kill that man?" Ashley asked.

Andrew remained silent.

"Annnnnndyyyyy"

"Whaaaat! Since when were you the moral compass!" Complained Andrew much to Ashley's joy.

"I'm not, now you know how I feel when I have to deal with you"

"Oh go fuck yourself"

"Come fuck me yourself coward!"

Andrew just sputtered and blushed, not wanting to continue.

Ashley looked over the bike before sitting down on it.

"Very nice, hey, this reminds me of your old bike you had before our folks sold it off!" She told him as she started to reminisce about all the places Andrew had taken her to.

Andrew let her talk as he went behind her and pulled out another helmet.

"Hey Ash"

"Hmm?"

"Catch!"

Ashley caught the helmet and looked at Andrew who just smiled.

"What do you say, leyley? Shall we ride again like old times?"

Ashley smile was very bright even in the dark of night.

Starting up the bike, Ashely sat behind Andrew before straping on the helmet. She wrapped her arms around Andrew's chest.

Carefully and slowly, they both drove around the parking lot before Andrew finally decided to go onto the main road. Looking behind him, Ashley nodded to him, ready to go.

Putting throttle, the bike glided smoothly on the open pavement as the exhaust reverberated off the city walls.

Ashley laughed in happiness as she felt nostalgia and warmth over take her while also enjoying the freedom and closeness with the man she loved.

Andrew was content, regardless of his situation. As long as his Leyley was happy, nothing else mattered.

The two sailed into the darkness, free as can be.

[shyphonics]

Salad Days, Chapter 6: Just You and Me, Punk Rock Girl

(Rodrick Heffley x reader)

chapter directory here

Light sex warning for the beginning- 18+ plz

This chapter took me a while - I wrote the beginning the same night I wrote the first and second chapters. Then I realized I think I'm more comfortable writing horrific and sad moments than sweet moments and I kinda froze trying to fill the plot in around it lol.

Thank you so much to everyone reading this!!! The fact that it's actually getting notes makes me really, really happy :)

Also this chapter's run of songs contains a secret song in the spotify playlist oooooh

Oh my mama mama mo-my-mum

Have you kept an eye, an eye on your son?

I know you've got problems, you're not the only one

Since your sugar left, left you on the run

The gas cans felt good in his hands. Heavy. Smooth plastic snug in his fingers. His grip was tight. He reveled in the sound of the liquid sloshing around. The unmistakable smell.

Everybody fucking hated him. Every second of every day, he felt like his brain was on fire. A full body burn begging him to get out.

Get out now.

It's not like anyone was inside. The old library had been gutted weeks ago. They were supposed to demolish it next week. If he really thought about it… he was doing them a favor.

Yeah. So do it. Who gives a fuck.

He busted a window and stuck his leg inside, stepping into the decayed, old building. It smelled like dust. It smelled like school.

Stupid Frank and Susan.

Stupid Heather Hills.

Stupid Rodrick. Going nowhere, doing nothing, being nothing. Stupid.

The smell was strong, but he liked it.

He grinned, he nearly hyperventilated as he doused as much as he could.

Dizzy in his head, laughing maniacally

Breathing in fumes, killing brain cells.

What did it matter.

He shook the last drops out of the second can and tossed it across the room.

He struck a match. Let it burn out.

Struck another. Toss.

The fire erupted.

He stood there to watch it for a second, and ducked back out the window.

He knew he wouldn't have much time to admire his work, so he started running.

Deep into the woods.

He stopped and saw a ball of flames rise in the distance. The ground rumbled. His eyes went wide. He ran all the way home.

Nobody even knew he was gone. He'd left music playing in his room so it'd sound like he never left.

He watched the living room from the top of the stairs. A news report was on.

The library was directly on top of an open gas line. No fucking kidding.

Half the street went up in flames.

It's not like there was much on that street anyway, besides a strip mall with one or two active tenants. Closed for the night. No injuries reported.

His mom was crying. His dad was in shock. Greg and Manny were already asleep.

How could something like this happen? his mom whispered.

They're saying it was just some freak accident. They can't put it out. It's going to burn straight down to the foundation. Frank, incredulous.

Rodrick was silent.

~

Words to memorize

Words hypnotize

Words make my mouth exercise

Words all fail the magic prize

Nothing I can say when I'm in your thighs

“Hey,” a cool hand on his face, “where are you? Are you okay?”

He’s sent flying back to reality suddenly, looking up into your eyes. He looks frazzled. He’s not sure where that came from. All he knows is that he can never tell you.

“I'm fine,” he breathes, his hands moving to your hips, squeezing. Like he’s making sure you’re real.

How could he not be fine? The realization of what's going on hits him like a brick and he squeezes you harder.

He looks up at you like you're a goddess. Hips perfectly situated on his, eyes glinting in the low light of your bedroom. Every subtle movement you make sends a twitch through his body. Breath hitching through plush pink lips, mouth agape.

“I'm fucking amazing,” he sighs.

“Okay, good. Thought I lost you for a second.” you smile, placing a hand on his chest. His heart is racing.

You move your hips, just a little, testing the water.

He throws his head back and huffs, moving with you. He always figured that this- all of this- would be good, but he never dreamed it would be this good. It must be something special about you, he thinks.

You keep smiling down at him.

“If you wanna pick it up a little bit, go ahead,”

“P-pick it up?”

You raise yourself up off him a little, and then send yourself back down. He shudders, a grin spreading across his face. You keep it up, laughing softly, slowly bouncing up and down, skin slapping skin. Obscene, wet sounds. A groan comes from deep within his throat. He's thrusting up to meet you, knuckles white on your hips.

You haven’t had an impressive amount of sex in your life, but you’ve certainly had some experiences. Nothing has ever been like this. Rodrick is looking at you- not your body- he’s looking into your eyes. His eye contact has a sense of pleading, his lips are trembling. You lean down to kiss him. It’s tender. It’s intimate. You’d figured he’d be quick and chaotic. Experienced, maybe, but not learned.

Everything just feels so good.

His hands are gentle on your back, rubbing up around your shoulder blades. You feel his hips roll, and it sends waves of heat through your body. You keep a slow and passionate pace together, it feels like your bodies are perfectly in tune with each other.

“I can't believe that you… I…” Rodrick breathes, his brain turned to mush.

“I know,” a sharp breath leaves you as he hits a certain spot.

You speed up, both of you seeming to know what you need. Your bodies glisten with sweat, and you throw your head back, hands anchored to his shoulders. His hands move up to your chest, gently squeezing, then ghosting down your ribcage. His hands- so large, so strong. They’re slightly weathered, calloused from his drumsticks, and they’re so warm. His bony hips poke into your thighs with every thrust. You can just feel him. All of him.

Then you feel him twitch inside of you.

“I think I…” Rodrick gasps.

You look down at him, your eyes warm, reassuring him. You feel close too, still warmed up from earlier. He ruts up into you, flushed and panting. You feel yourself squeeze around him, your vision blurring slightly, as a rush of tingles runs through your whole body, and that seems to send him over the edge. He stops suddenly, breathing heavily, holding your hip down onto his, the other cupping your face. His eyes squeeze shut, then open wide, and roll back into his head.

You both sit and recover for a second, gasping for air, looking at each other. You roll off of him, and lay next to him, exhausted. He reaches out desperately to grab your thigh, as you turn to your side and throw your arm over his chest. You reach up and feel his cheek. His skin is hot, and slightly stubbled.

“I’m glad I didn’t wait.”

“You were gonna wait?” He pants.

“I don’t usually do that. That fast. But now I know.”

“Know what?” He turns his head to look at you, eyes tired.

“That I really, definitely like you.”

He laughs, pulling you closer to his chest and kissing the top of your head.

“I really, definitely like you too.”

You wriggle the comforter out from underneath you, and throw it over the both of you. It doesn’t take long for you to drift off, hands on each other, legs tangled.

For the first time in a long time, Rodrick dreams of absolutely nothing.

~

I've been waiting for a guide to come and take me by the hand

Could these sensations make me feel the pleasures of a normal man?

Lose sensations, spare the insults, save them for another day

I've got the spirit, lose the feeling, take the shock away

~

Rodrick wakes up before you, lifting his head in confusion at his unfamiliar surroundings. Until he feels your arm draped over him, and remembers where he is. It’s still early, and you’re dead asleep. He smiles, pulling you closer to him. He gazes over your face, lit up in the early morning light. You stir, coming to rest your head on his bare chest, and he’s so happy he could cry.

“Go back to sleep,” you mumble.

He does.

You wake once the sun is all the way up, blinking at the beams coming in through your window. Rodrick has an iron hold on you, and little snores are coming from him.

You can see your alarm clock from where you are, and it’s a little after 9 AM.

You turn slightly onto your back, and feel Rodrick moving.

“You up?” You look over at him. His eyelids are heavy, and there’s a lazy smile on his face.

“I’m up,” he sighs.

“Glad you didn’t sneak out on me.” You chuckle.

“Why would I do that?” His voice is sleepy, and a little whiny.

“I don’t know. Boys are weird.”

He gives you one last squeeze before he lets you up.

“You wanna shower?” You ask, running a hand through your hair.

The water is warm, and you can finally see Rodrick’s lanky body in all its glory. Steam fills the bathroom, and his face is slightly flushed.

“So, last night,” Rodrick stretches under the stream of water. You find yourself admiring the lightly defined muscles in his back, and fighting the urge to smack his ass. Maybe later.

“What about it?” You smirk, squeezing some body wash onto a washcloth.

“It was… real? Like, it happened, right?” He turns around, eyebrow raised, grinning smugly.

“As far as I'm aware,” you laugh, beginning to scrub yourself.

Rodrick pauses, water running down his shoulders.

“Wow,” he smiles, then his face falters just a little, “and… you enjoyed it?”

You give him a look, wringing out your washcloth. Instead of answering him, you just step forward and kiss him, warm water flowing over you. Your hands travel over his body, slick with water and soap. You pull away.

“Duh.” You smile.

You dry off. Rodrick's wet hair is wild, and he still has a little bit of eyeliner on.

He grabs his clothes from the night before, and you stop him.

“Are you sure about that?”

He freezes, holding his boxers with the tips of his fingers, like a deer in the headlights.

“I can… turn ‘em inside out,”

“Ew. I have clothes you can wear,” you laugh, “boxers make good pajamas, and most bands don't really make women's shirts.”

“Really?”

You toss him a pair of plain, black boxers, then get an idea. You head to your closet, where you keep your band merch.

“Y'know what? I'm returning the favor. You look like a medium.” You root through the box, and toss him a shirt with your band’s logo on the front. He holds it up to himself and smiles. You find your Löded Diper shirt, discarded along with your purse by the front door, and put it on. As you come back, he's pulling the boxers on, and you take your chance.

Smack.

“Hey!” he yelps, turning to face you, blushing just a little.

He sees your shirt, and a giddy grin appears on his face.

You find yourself at the coffee shop across the street, sitting on the little patio. The streets are packed with groups of people, enjoying the spring day. Rodrick mangles a croissant as you sip from a large, white mug. You appreciate the fact that the two of you can sit in a comfortable silence like this. You flip through the local alt paper, The Eye.

“Ooh, there's a Pyramid show tonight, my friend’s band is playing. That'd be a good place to show you. They have an entire wall of pinball machines.”

“Are you friends with all the bands?” Rodrick asks, pouring 4 packets of sugar into his coffee at once.

“Not all of them. But a lot of them. I try to network.” You shrug, reading through the event calendar.

“All the major bars are kind of in one strip, with a few outliers. Then you have your DIYs and house venues.”

Rodrick sips his coffee, makes a face, and adds 2 more sugar packets.

“Do you think we have a chance at any of them?”

“You guys are gonna have good word of mouth after last night,” you nod, “I bet in a week you'll have an offer from Pyramid or Dime Store.”

“Wow,” Rodrick breathes, assuming that must be really good.

“It looked like your guys got along with everyone, too, and Mike likes you. You've got a great start. You might even get to open for a real band once they start coming in the summer.” You smile at him, looking up from the paper.

“We are a real band,” he looks confused.

“Yeah, but, y'know. A touring band. The Casualties are coming back this summer… Circle Jerks usually run through with Descendents once a year, D.R.I. has been on a ‘retirement tour’ for the past few years,” you say, adding air quotes, “your name's on the opener list now. And most of the time, picking someone from that list falls to me… but don't expect any obvious nepotism. I try to match people up by sound.”

Rodrick grins, stars in his eyes.

“Do any bands around here, um,” he pauses, unsure how to word it, “make it?”

“Sometimes,” you lean back, thinking, “it's hard nowadays. There was this super popular indie band last year. They got picked up to be on a movie soundtrack, and they're huge now. That's what sells, these days. I'll let you work out the irony of indie selling.” You smirk.

“So, what? Heavier bands are just shit out of luck?” He takes another sip of his sugary coffee.

“That's how it goes,” you shrug, “you give up most of the hope of being famous to be a real musician. There's a reason that even huge punk bands are still just playing at bars instead of stadiums. It was never marketable. Punk’s not even a genre anymore. To me, it's having the attitude of ‘I’m pissed off, and I'm making it your problem.”

Rodrick laughs, “Okay, I do like that.”

You finish the last of your coffee, and roll up your paper, tucking it in your bag.

“You ready?” You stand up, stretching.

“For what?” he looks at you, draining his mug.

“I'm gonna show you the strip, rookie.”

You smile, holding your hand out, and he takes it.

“The Strike’s back that way, you’ve already seen it. There’s a pretty big gap of old shops and abandoned buildings from here to there.”

You lead him down the street, pointing out bars. Most of them will be closed until the late afternoon.

“There’s Pyramid, there’s Dime store. That one’s cool, the upstairs is a drag bar called Fluorescence, and the downstairs is a dive called Dim Bulb.”

Rodrick laughs, taking in the sights of the street.

“First time I ever came down here, I was with a bunch of friends who were 21, and I was still 19. Dim Bulb is all ages if you put the X’s on your hands, but Fluorescence is strictly 21+. My friends went upstairs. Downstairs was dead that night. They told me to wait in the bar and not go off walking by myself, but…”

“You went off walking by yourself?” Rodrick smirks at you.

“How’d you know?” You chuckle, “Yeah, and I had just gotten these leather pants, and I felt so fucking cool. But I was so stupid. And this gross, old guy stopped me and asked if I was ‘working’, and I said ‘no, fuck off, get away from me’,” you say, your tone nonchalant.

Rodrick raises his eyebrows, his mouth falling open.

“So, he starts chasing me down the street, yelling, ‘I’ll kill you’, and I was yelling back all this bullshit, just totally bluffing,”

You stop in front of a bodega along the street.

“And the guy who owns this place came out and scared the guy off. He’s good people.”

You wave at the man inside, who perks up and waves back.

“That place has everything. 9-volt batteries, first aid stuff, you name it. If you find yourself in a jam, head over there.”

Rodrick looks through the windows as you walk by.

“This whole street is, like… a tiny little town all on its own. Also, I'm glad you didn't get murdered.”

“Yeah,” you sigh out, looking over the strip, feeling proud, “it really is. I love it here. I’m glad I could show you around. And thanks.” You laugh, squeezing his hand.

You keep walking, down towards the point where the bars end and the shops begin. Rodrick walks slowly, swinging his hand with yours. He keeps his head on a swivel, trying to take in all there is to see. Old neon signs, graffiti-covered brick walls, and show fliers absolutely everywhere.

“I think you’re gonna like this place,” you turn to look back at Rodrick, who looks absolutely awestruck.

The bell on the record store door rings, and you're greeted by the familiar woman behind the counter, Jennifer. She’s tall and muscular, with a smoker’s voice, and impeccably curled baby bangs.

Rodrick stops as the door closes behind him. It’s a cozy, dark little room. There are houseplants everywhere, among long boxes of records on high tables. The walls are exposed brick, and light is coming in through two long, skinny windows. An orange cat rests on one of the tables, in a sunbeam. The walls are completely covered in posters, framed records, and old fliers.

“It's you! I have pulls for you,” she looks over thick-rimmed glasses at you, reaching under the counter, then sees your shirt, “what in the hell is that?”

You look down at the bold, white letters on your shirt and laugh.

“Best new band in this town. You really haven't heard of them?” You say, teasingly.

“Diaper…?” she squints, looking at you, bewildered.

“I'm just messing with you, they played their first show last night. This is the drummer, Rodrick,” you gesture to Rodrick. He approaches the counter and sticks out his hand, smiling politely.

Jennifer looks back to your shirt, then at Rodrick.

“Kid, I'll level with you. There are worse names out there.” She barks out a laugh, looking down at her hands, both being used to hold a stack of records.

Rodrick notices, and retracts his hand, laughing nervously.

You kill about an hour in the shop, looking at all the things Jennifer has hidden for you over the week. It was once a very kind thing she did when you were flat broke and new in town, but she kept it up as a tradition, because she said you got it.

Rodrick exhausts each box, looking in amazement at all the different records. 'Dad Rock,' 'Punk Rock,' 'Rockabilly,' 'Psychobilly,' 'Synth Shit for Weirdos.'

The ‘misc.’ box contains a Jane Fonda home workout, a square dancing instructional record, and a full album of canine heartbeats, meant for veterinary students. Rodrick pulls it out and looks at it, reading the cover in confusion.

“See something cool?” You perk up and walk over to him, reading the record.

“Canine Heart Sounds? Is that a band?” You squint. He stays quiet, holding in a laugh.

“‘4-10 acquired murmurs', what the fuck?”

You see the text for ‘Berkeley Medical Veterinary Group’ and let out a cackle, lightly punching Rodrick on the shoulder. He breaks too, putting the record back in the box.

“You totally thought I was all cool and underground for a second.” Rodrick laughs.

You leave the record shop, and you decide to take him to see everything. You try on leather jackets way beyond your means at the biker shop, spiked collars at the goth shop, and hats at the western shop. You point and laugh at each other the whole way, except that some of that leather had looked pretty good on Rodrick… and he might’ve thought the same about you.

By late afternoon, you’re both a little worn out, and you wind up back near where you started, at a tall, yellow building. It’s an ancient pizza joint.

Inside is a massive, wooden staircase, and yellow walls covered in sharpie graffiti. Dumb little messages, from mystery people. From who knows how long ago. It feels like a million little voices yelling at him all at once.

Penelope was here!

Aaron is a cheating douchebag!

George Dubya, suck my dick!

And band names. So many band names.

“Whoa,” Rodrick looks up. It’s even on the ceiling.

You lead him to a large window, with a greyed, wooden frame.

You fish in your purse and find a sharpie, handing it to him.

“When we first started the band, we came here to make it official. I wrote our name, right here, under the window.” You look down, away from him, feeling a little sappy.

Rodrick looks at the smooth, black writing.

The Shrieks

10.15.03

He smiles.

“And, if you’ll notice, there’s an empty space right there next to it…” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.

Rodrick smiles, then crouches down, uncapping the sharpie.

He carefully draws his logo, adding the little horns and tail, with a small safety pin and the date underneath.

He stands up, handing the marker back to you. You look down at your two logos together, then up at your coordinated shirts.

“Yeah. They look great together,” you smile up at him, “now it’s official. Welcome to the scene.”

Rodrick feels a swell in his chest, looking down at your genuine smile. He’s been just a little guarded all day, but… now he gets it. You actually want him around. It’s not a joke. It’s not a trick. You’d wanted his band to be immortalized next to yours on this greasy, strangely beautiful wall.

He catches you off guard, pulling you into a tight hug. You blink once or twice, then wrap your arms around him, smiling against his chest.

“Hey!”

You pull away from each other, and turn to where the voice came from. It’s Ward, in an apron, by the counter.

“I got a job!” He’s grinning.

The two of you walk up to the counter and catch up, refusing to give him any details, no matter how much he wiggles his eyebrows.

~

So we jumped up on the table, and shouted “anarchy!”

And someone played a Beach Boys song on the jukebox

It was “California Dreamin’”

So we started screamin’

“On such a winter’s day!”

~

The two of you sit at your little table, the sun beginning to set outside. You’re laughing at some high school story he’d been telling you- something about how he’d been in love with some girl and ruined her sweet 16.

He pauses, taking a sip out of his glass bottle, beaming.

“God, and she was really into N’Sync, so we spent all this time learning ‘Tearin’ up my Heart’,”

You cackle, slamming your hands on the table, “Oh, god, no!”

“But last minute, I told Ben I wanted to sing, and he could play drums-”

“Can he play drums?”

“Nope!” Rodrick laughs, “And I sang in this high pitched voice- she wanted us in tuxes, but, um, I kinda wasn’t listening when my brother told me that? Also didn’t have the money. But I figured all black was good enough.”

“Did you learn any boy band moves?” You wipe away a stray tear that had escaped your eye.

“I wish. That would’ve been awesome, but, no. We did set off a bunch of pyro, and I jumped off the stage.”

“Pyro?!”

“Ben’s brother is in demolition,” Rodrick laughs, but feels a little pang of anxiety with the words that leave his lips.

You don’t notice his face change, still laughing. Rodrick grins at you, wanting to make the big reveal good.

“This family was loaded, okay? Country club rich. So, the pyro goes off, and it’s chaos. I was, like, dancing around her? And I backed up right into a giant ice sculpture of her head.”

You look at him, in shock, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, and then she tried to kill me with a mic stand, but ended up knocking over a chocolate fountain, and everyone got absolutely covered in chocolate… and then she hated me forever. Still hates me. That’s the girl from last night, by the way- my ‘girlfriend’?”

“No fucking way,” your eyes go wide. “That’s why you were staring each other down.”

Rodrick gives a satisfied nod, chuckling slightly.

“Well, I guess you learned your lesson: don’t trust the rich. First rule of punk.” You tease.

“Yeah, and if she’d actually liked it, I… I would probably be miserable,” He says, a look of realization on his face. You raise your eyebrows.

“I’d probably be at some fancy event right now wearing, like, a polo or something. Oh, god. I’d probably be working for her dad.” He looks down, eyes wide.

You boo him, giving him a thumbs down.

“I wouldn’t have met you,” He stares at you in surprise.

You smile, leaning towards him, your elbow on the table.

“I’m… so fucking glad all that bullshit back home happened,” He shakes his head, smiling, “Because now I’m here.”

“In a greasy, old pizzeria?” You smirk.

“In a greasy, old pizzeria, with you,”

You laugh, at a loss for words. Something about Rodrick seems to have bloomed today, and you like it. It’s like he finally evened out. You lean closer to him.

“I’m glad I’m here with you too,” You smile.

Your lips almost touch, but the buzzing of your cell phone interrupts you. You groan. It's Mike.

“Hey, what's up?”

“They got us! They fucking got us!”

Rodrick hears Mike screaming through the phone, and feels his heart drop.

“What? Who got us? What are you talking about?” Your heart skips a beat.

“They smashed the window! And wrote all over the walls! It's like Sharon Tate all over again!”

Your jaw drops. He's serious.

“Mike, who?”

You hear the sound of glass crunching down the line, along with Mike's enraged muttering.

“How many people did we kick out last night?” He spits.

You take a second to think.

“A lot. It got crazy.”

“Did we have to put anybody on the list?”

You make eye contact with Rodrick. His eyebrows knit together in worry.

“Yeah, there were a few.”

The List is only to be used in extreme circumstances. Any bar patrons found guilty of irredeemable asshole behavior have their IDs taken, photocopied, and returned as their asses are kicked out the front door. You're not sure how legal it is, but it's very effective.

The guy who had punched Rodrick last night, along with all of his friends, had absolutely made The List.

“I know who it was,” your voice shakes, “I’ll be right over.”

You hang up, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Did he say someone smashed the window?” Rodrick breathes in disbelief.

“Yeah,” you put your head in your hands, “do you know the name of that guy who punched you?”

“Ugh. Bryan Kent.” Rodrick frowns.

“Do you think he'd do something like that?”

“Yeah.” He says, without hesitation.

“Fuck!” You sigh, “At least we have a name.”

Rodrick looks at you, guilty, like he might cry. You feel a pang of sadness.

“No, no, sorry. Shit. Don’t feel bad, it’s not your fault, I’m just pissed off.” You ramble.

The bar is like your baby. Though you’ve only worked there a year, it means a lot to you. Mike had drunkenly promised to leave it to you several times, and you feel a strong protective urge over it.

“I gotta go,” you grimace, “Should I take you home?”

He nods, looking dejected.

There are two cop cars parked outside Rodrick’s apartment building, and you notice him gripping the door handle tightly.

“Wonder what that’s about?” You murmur.

“Could you take me around the back?” Rodrick’s voice shakes.

You look at him, raising an eyebrow, but circle around back anyway.

 He opens your car door and gets out.

“Hey,” you stop him, “that was really fun. I hate that it ended this way, but… we’ll see each other again, okay? I don’t want this to be a one time thing. I… I really like you.”

“Me either.” He nods. His voice is cold, and his eyes are void of all emotion.

You know something is wrong, but you have bigger problems on your hands right now.

“Okay,” you give him a weak smile.

He grimaces, and shuts the door. You watch him walk through a grimy back entrance, and pull off.

“Rodrick, dude,” Ben looks at him with bug eyes when he walks through the door, “the fucking cops were here!”

Rodrick freezes.

“Did they leave?”

“Yeah, but they were looking for you, man.” His voice is hushed and panicked.

Rodrick checks the window, and the cop cars are gone.

“What did they say?”

“Something about your name being associated with a crime scene?”

Rodrick turns to look at him, “What?”

~

So while you sit back and wonder why

I got this fuckin’ thorn in my side

Oh my god, it’s a mirage

I’m tellin’ y’all, it’s sabotage

~

tag list: @crumpets-are-better-with-jam

[ghostkingdoesstuff]

PJO episode five! (Fashionable late, but we rally)

Opening with the polluted waters of the Mississippi River In the intro card. Thank you to the commenter who corrected me last week.

Add a checkmark for Percy and Co domestic terrorism checklist.

Percy, thinking his friends are mad at him only to be dumb found by a hug.

No hug for Grover Underwood. Cry every time.

Percy is thinking. the neurons are firing.

Percy is unable to think.

Grover Underwood being a response 24 year old

ARIES THE TWITTER TROLL

✨️Aries also fuel shipping wars, keep it civil tumbler✨️

A family born of Khaos

Properly menacing performance, casting a pro wrester was so the way to go.

Annabeth has never seen a movie. Ok, Feredrick Chase.

Grover and Aries is a conversion I didn't know I needed to hear but I'm very happy I did.

Grover's convert Narsasism disguised as altruism like some sort of- TALE AS OLD AS TIMEEE! and Aries falls for it.

The obervers of perabeth: love it , neutral, or hate it. all rejoice, for the budget allowed for Alexander Nestor Haddaway's hit debut single, "what is love"

Percy remembers his mom's stories. Percy says something dumb. Annabeth is checking his ass.

Let the horror comence: thinking about the complex implications of the pjo family tree and the insidious effects on the characters' psychology.

Grover masterfully playing to Aries ego, true heart of the trio.

HE HANDED HER THE PEN HOLY SHIT

Percy sacrifices himself in Hera's throne reafferms Walker as a ✨️golden✨️ casting choice for Percy

"He isn't like that," Can't lie, that made me feel something.

5'7" Percy jackson unabashedly standing up to 6'5" god of war, Aries does something to my lizard brain. (Yes, I had to Google that fact for the bit)

Truck to Vegas, baby! Wooooooo

Oh, do you know Grover? Im sure you do.

Lin Manuel Miranda next week, The Lotus Hotel, and many more hijinks. Pacing of this episode felt more on beat this week.

✨️excitement✨️

[cute-bag-of-bones]

Can't Trust A Supe

Part 2: Ma Petite Poulette

Part 1

Warnings: violence, implied death, swearing.

      The local library wasn't the ideal place to read a top secret file like this but it was the best I could do on short notice. At least it would be quiet.

       The papers inside were both typed and some were hand written. I could recognize my mom's curvy and heavy handed handwriting anywhere. The notes had to be written by her. I found my mom's resignation letter to vaught. She sighted wanting to start a family as the reason for the departure. There was also a copy of a legal document that was asking for my mother to return any stolen property she had taken with her. I read further and from what I can guess Vaught thought she stole some kind of serum. The document never specified the name.  

      There was also documentation of her and Homelander's relationship. The fact Vaught kept track of something like that really cemented to me how creepy Vaught is. They even noted how erratic Homelander became when she ended the relationship. 

     My chest tightened up as I read lower. It mentioned the incident at my family's compound. In this file they claim Homelander had gotten some intel that my father and his cult was planning a mass suicide. When Homelander came to stop them my father detonated the bombs killing everyone there instantly. 

      My hand balled into a fist as I looked up from the papers. Bank holidays and annual parades all spawned because of Vaught's lies. Children wear masks of my fathers face and throw candy bombs at each other. The last name Bishop became so unpopular that residents of New York City changed their names to avoid association. Even I had to take on an alias just to live my life in peace. All because a woman broke up with a man. I needed to calm down, I could see right through the librarian who was starting to notice the glowing blue light coming from my eyes. 

      I closed the file and looked at the number written on the front. Billy Butcher's Mary band of idiots, could they really kill Homelander? Could they do it without getting killed themselves? 

      I knew I would regret it but I had to be there when Homelander died. Even if I can just make him bleed. That will be enough, enough to show him his actions have consequences. No one is above revenge and at some point everyone's ticket will be punched, even his.

     Before I could think about how big of a mistake this was I called (uncle) Billy. He gave me an address to go to and hung up. I wasn't surprised when the address in question was another ran down building. I was surprised when he let me in and I saw a small woman curled up on the sofa and a large black man sitting at a table. Maybe he knew what he was doing. It had been less then a week and he had already conned two more suckered into helping him. 

     "You got more help?"

     "Oh yeah this is Mother's Milk and um oi Frenchie what are we calling her?" He said pointing to the wild looking girl. 

      "We are still working on that part. Hello ma petite poulette. Good to see you came around." Frenchie said with a wave. I'd have to Google what the hell he just called me. Hughie looked less sick this time which I guess was a good sign. 

      "Right, well I changed my mind. I want to help." I say walking in. The girl moved from the sofa and closer to frenchie. She looked at me like she was sizing me up. It made me uneasy but they seemed to trust her. 

      I got the rundown on the plan and all that had happened, it was half baked at best but it was better than nothing.

     "Wait, she crushed the guy's head? With her what?" I guess there are worse ways to go.

      "It was bad." M.M adds as he helps Frenchie put together some guns. 

      This group looked disorganized from the outside looking In but the more time I spent with them the more I realized they had some kind of system. A rhythm of some kind they all understood. It is taking me a few days to fall into it. I wasn't sure where I fit in yet. I know Billy is the ringleader. He sets it all up. Frenchie and M.M make it happen for him. Frenchie normally supplied the tools of the trade, M.M had the skills and cool head. The Female was easy enough to figure out. She is a Beast, a force of nature, in the best possible way. It was sickeningly beautiful how quickly she could tear through a guy. 

         Hughie was the last I figured out but he's the moral compass and he is pretty good for morale to because picking on him is fun. But he's the heart of this outfit without a doubt. 

         Today Billy had something for me to do. He needed a key card from this security guard at a desk of a medical research center or something. It needed to be clean. Frenchie and I were sent in. It was meant to be Hughie and I but he had a bad cheese dog and couldn't leave the bathroom so we improvised.

        It was 11 pm and pouring rain when I walked up to the glass door. I had to get close enough to him to ensure he would survive the encounter. I had been practicing with rats at the hideout and felt confident I could do this on a human. I just needed to close the distance before he got suspicious. I tapped on the glass and held my hands out in a prying motion. 

        "Please I need help!" I yell past the glass. I needed him to unlock the door. I knew I looked very unintimidating. At least to most men. A 5'5 blonde girl didn't scream danger to most people. He got up and sighed as he walked over to the door. 

        "I'm sorry ma'am the lab is closed." He shouted back through the glass.

        "No wait I'm sorry, I'm super lost downtown and my phone died. Can I use a phone? I need to call my mom." The whole time I was looking inside him. Scanning making sure I could do this clean. He hesitated for a moment before finally opening the door to me. 

       "Just be quick please." He said as he showed me to the phone at the front desk. He stood next to me and waited for me to make my call. So I did, I called Frenchie's burner to let him know I was in and that he should head this way. The phone rang and just as planned he didn't answer. I looked up at the man and began my real part of the plan. I start by lowering his blood pressure. He begins to sweat. It was a delicate balancing act between being quick enough he doesn't get suspicious and being careful enough not to kill him. He grabs the corner of the desk and I take the change to put the phone down and help him into his seat. 

       "Are you alright?" I ask as I continue my attack. He tries to grab the phone, likely thinking he was having some kind of stroke. I make his eyes close and apply the lightest amount of pressure to his carotid arteries trying to slow oxygen getting to the brain. Soon his own brain does the rest as he slips into sleep. I run and open the door for Frenchie who comes sprinting in. 

       "What did you do to him?" 

       "He's just sleeping. Go do what you have to. I have to stay down here to make sure he doesn't wake up." He nods and grabs the guards key card and takes an elevator up. The cameras had already been taken care of so my only worry was keeping this guy out cold. I let up on his carotid arteries, scared the limited amount of oxygen to the brain would leave him with lasting effects. He stirred slightly but still seemed to be asleep in his chair. Soon Frenchie came running down with some files and a flash drive.

       "Help me grab him." He said as he tried to lift the security guard from his chair. 

      "What why?"

      "I might have made a small mistake and caught the lab on fire. Just grab his legs for me, ma petite poulette." Frenchie pleaded as he tried to drag the larger man. I hurried and grabbed his ankles and laid him on the sidewalk as the van pulled up. The cold rain and movement was enough to make him come too. He started to open his eyes as the van doors closed with Frenchie and I safely inside. It was a rush, we were greeted with a very happy M.M who pulled me into the tightest hug I had even received.

       "You did it kid! That was great!" He said letting me go. Even Billy was smiling and for once it wasn't for something bad. 

          I was walking back to the shelter that night when some asshole came up from behind me and grabbed my backpack. It ripped and all my stuff fell on the wet ground. Books, wallet, snacks and my ancient Homelander plush. The mugger tried to grab my wallet but before he could a red gloved hand grabbed him by his head and flung him into the air. I screamed in surprise and fell on my butt. Every hair on my body stood on end as I looked up and saw Homelander himself in front of me. I had thought for so long what I would do when presented with this opportunity. Here he was right in front of me and I was so scared I couldn't even move. 

      "Oh we got an old fan." He says as he bends down and picks up the old Homelander toy. "One of the first series. Very rare, if you want I'll sign it for you sweetheart." He says with a grin that makes me sick to my stomach. 

      "N-no thank y-you." I say as I pick up my torn bag and start to put stuff back into it. He just stood there looking at the toy.

      "Where did you get this, I don't think it ever went to stores. Marketing thought the smile was too wide on it and that it would creep out kids." He said with a laugh. 

       "I don't remember." I say quickly I couldn't exactly say my mom you dated gave it to me. I stand up and hold my bag opened for him to drop it in. He stared at me for a second as his grin left his face. 

     "You know you look so familiar. Did you go to the fan signing in Central Park?" He asked as he put the plush back in my bag. I never looked him in the eyes. I couldn't every time I saw his photo on billboards all I could see was his glowing red eyes. I looked down at the ground.

      "Um yeah yeah I was. It was great meeting you. I have to go through." I say quickly as I run across to the other side of the road. I didn't look back as I speed walked away. 

       "Wait one minute." He said in a commanding voice. I froze solid right in my spot. He walked in front of me and held up my wallet. I must have missed it on the ground.

      "Oh thank you so much. It was great meeting you but I have classes tomorrow. " I say as I take it back from him I lie for my life.

     "Yes of course school is very important, you have a safe night." He says before he jumps into the air. I had never ran so fast in my life.

      In bed that night I was beating myself up. He was right there why couldn't I just do it. It would have been perfect. No one around, just him and I. I could have ended it then and there. I hated myself for being too pathetic to do what I knew was right. Finally I let myself fall asleep. All night I was haunted by his red eyes and the sounds of rubble falling.

      The next day I got a new bag and had my lunch under a tree in the park when I heard a familiar voice behind me. 

      "How's the sandwich?" I jumped and looked around as Homelander floated down onto view. A bit of sandwich wedged itself in my throat. I started to cough and hack before finally it flew out. Homelander made a disgusted face but then smiled down at me. A crowd park might have been safer for me but it made me more nervous. Seeing him in person in broad daylight is somehow more terrifying than you could ever imagine.

I think I have it all figured out I'm going to be posting every other day and on the off days I'll be posting a Batfam fanfic on another Tumblr if that interests you at all here's that link feel free to stop by.

[anjumzm]

Midsummer Night

A Legacy of Gods Fanfic

JerCes Daughter x LanMia Son

Chapter 9

The Volkov Mansion has been a picture of tranquility during breakfast time for as long as I can remember. It was one of our unspoken rules that no one discusses anything related to business at breakfast. Instead, we talk about our personal lives, books, friends, and everything that's not related to work. Oh, and it was a rule for all to be present during breakfast, no matter how shitty the previous night was, you always had to show up at the dining table for breakfast.

This ritual made me look forward to our family breakfasts even as a child. I loved discussing mangas with my father and brother. However absurd this sounds, the Jeremy Volkov loved to discuss—or more like listen to me and Mom talk about—books, anime, or manga, even though both Mom and I knew he wasn't a big fan of them, judging by how he always frowned when Mom praised a character. Aaron used to love them as a kid, but as he grew up, his interest shifted toward outdoor games like boxing and football until he eventually gave up watching animes or movies altogether. He'd become like my father, and while I was proud of how strong and responsible my brother had become, I missed his older version, the one who was a little more cheerful, who used to make jokes or even prank Jessica just to get her attention. This Aaron was cold.

Caleb usually liked to throw his sarcastic remarks here and there or add something once in a while, but he usually kept to himself. Oh, and he was my Grandpa Adrian's favorite grandchild. They usually had long conversations, which was rare given that my brother hated casual talks.

At the table, it was usually me and Mom who talked a lot, and then the others would join in the conversation. Me and Mom would team up against Caleb and Aaron with Dad always joining our side, while both of them grumbled about how Dad is always biased toward us.

But today my mind is elsewhere. The deadline Theo had given me was over yesterday, and today I waited for some kind of threat via a call or text, some incident he incited—anything—but there was no news from him since last week. Nothing at all. Maybe he grew a heart and thought about how absurd this all is in reality and backed off.

Who are you kidding? The guy probably takes lessons from Satan himself.

But the fact was that the Black Book was still in his possession, something that had disrupted my family's peace to the point that there was silence at our breakfast table, almost like everyone was holding on to their thoughts. Aaron is the first one to break the silence.

"Dad, did you hear the rumors related to Albanians? Our spies amongst their ranks just reported back to me. Do you think they have it, the Black Book, I mean?"

"Aaron, son, let's finish our breakfast first. You know the rules: no business talks at the breakfast table."

Mom smiles and puts more eggs and toast on Aaron's plate.

"But..."

"Finish your breakfast, and then we'll talk in my office," Dad adds sternly, then looks at me with that warm smile he always has on his face when talking to me. "How's college treating you, Angel? As much as I'm glad, it's kind of shocking for you to come back during your exam times. If this is because of the problems we're facing, trust me, Angel, you need not worry. We will get through it, like we always do." Dad gives me a reassuring smile.

"Actually, there's something else that I wanted to discuss with you, with all of you, I mean, and I couldn't discuss this over the phone."

That gets my family's attention.

OK Aanya, you can do this, come on.

"Actually, the thing is that I... I have..." I take a sip of water, then a deep breath.

Way to go, Aanya, bravo.

I can see my parents and my brothers tensing up.

"There's this thing I want to tell you all, but before that I want you all to promise me that there won't be any kind of violence or bloodshed. I need you to promise me this, especially Dad and Aaron."

"Wow, that's reassuring for sure," says Caleb.

"What's it, Aanya? You're scaring us, baby," Mom's face is full of concern.

"Is some twat in the UK troubling you? Someone bullying you? But that cannot be the case. I would have known if something like this happened. I have placed guards around the campus, and there are guards who follow you back home. Caleb, what is this about?"

"I am just as unaware about it as you are, brother."

"Aanya, Angel, what is it that you want to discuss?" My Dad adds.

"I—Daddy, I... I'M PLANNING TO GET ENGAGED!" I say it, closing my eyes and in one breath.

There's pin-drop silence around. Everyone looks at me in utter shock, while my Dad looks at me in disbelief.

"Aanya, princess, did you just say you want to get engaged? It can't be right. Lischka, did you hear the same thing?"

"Yes, Jer, I'm shocked too. Aanya, baby, this engagement... this is all too sudden."

"Well, you definitely won't get engaged to yourself. Whose ass do I need to whoop? Whoever this asshole is, Aanya, he's not trustworthy if you had to go out of your way to hide him from us. Wait a minute. Caleb, you better tell me that you're unaware of this too?"

"What do you think? Of course I am! If I knew, I would have personally looked into his background. Is he even a 'he'?"

Amidst all this, I take a look at my Dad, who's become like a statue. I cannot make out what's going through his mind. My mother has her hand above his and rubs it soothingly as if to ease the tension.

Slowly, he asks, "Who's it, Aanya? Who do you want to get engaged to? And why did you hide him from us?"

"Actually, you guys know him."

"We do?" "We do?" Aaron and Caleb say at the same time.

"Please don't tell me it's Dom," Aaron looks in pain saying it.

"Is it that Art project guy? Didn't you tell me he's gay?" Caleb asks.

"Is it Vaughn's son, Alec? Uncle Kirill had once mentioned his desire to get you guys engaged, but I'd sent a clear message regarding my feelings about the issue. Did that idiot go behind my back and propose? I swear I'll kill him myself if that's the case."

"Guys, you need to let Aanya speak. Aanya, love, who is it?"

"It's...

"Me, Ms. Volkov. I'm the one who proposed to Aanya, the one she's to be engaged to."

Oh no, no no no no... this cannot be happening.

Theo stands in the doorway to our dining room, a picture of complete calm and confidence in his dark blue suit, with a smirk.

"Aanya, my love, you—"

Whatever he wants to say gets lost as all hell breaks loose.

[eliotquillon]

Can we get a Cameron drabble about her planning the wedding? Maybe it parallels how she planned her first wedding and how quickly she got married both times?

FINALLY working my way through my fic req backlog. anyway yes of course !!

Cameron doesn’t want to wait; she tells her mother as much when she calls home to break the news about the engagement. “Two months, max,” she says, phone glued to her ear while she scrolls through venue listings. Cameron really doesn’t want to get married in a church again, but she has a sinking feeling that, although he’ll never admit it, Chase totally does, and it’s proving impossibly difficult to find a church-esque building that is both not actually a church and has openings for the next few weeks. “Don’t worry about the plane ticket, I’ll book it for you and Dad.”

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” her mom asks suspiciously. “Is that why you’re rushing? Because I won’t be upset if you are, Allison. You can tell me.”

This, Cameron thinks, is a total lie. Nevermind the fact that her mother loves Chase, nevermind the fact that Cameron is in her thirties with a successful career and a nice apartment and a stable relationship with the kind of man her parents have been praying for her to meet—handsome and well-mannered and a surgeon and not remotely close to dying. Babies are still meant to be squarely kept inside of marriage, no matter how robust the circumstances. Luckily:

“I’m not pregnant,” Cameron huffs. “And it’s not–rushing. We’re just busy. It makes sense to have it sooner rather than putting it off and drawing things out.”

Because she will, if she thinks about it too hard. It’s exactly what happened last time: she got so fixated on things must be perfect, we’re only going to be married for a year if we’re lucky, this needs to be exactly what he wants that she woke up one morning and it had been six months since the proposal and it was looking an awful lot like Bob was going to need a wheelchair to make it down the aisle. One hell of a wake-up call: she’d gotten her head out of her ass and the wedding was held two weeks later. And, really, this isn’t like the first time at all. If there’s one thing she and Chase have, it’s time—time for a honeymoon, time to go house-hunting, time for children and anniversaries and a whole life ahead of them. But when Cameron thinks of sitting down to plan a big, expensive wedding—the kind of wedding her parents are more than willing to pay for, the kind of wedding that Chase deserves, really, because with any luck this will be his first and last marriage—her chest gets all tight with panic. She’s committing. She’s committed. But surely there’s no harm in just wanting to get it over and done with.

“Allison, honey,” her mom says, gentle, “nothing’s going to happen to him. He’s not going anywhere. Why not wait until next spring? You could—“

“You don’t know that,” Cameron cuts her off, hot and irritated; Chase could get hit by a car tomorrow, could be held up by the same crazy gunman who came after House a few years ago, could be mugged or stabbed or drop dead of a heart attack, and she’d feel so guilty, she really would, if waiting for nicer flowers or a prettier dress meant she could never call herself his wife. As a concession, she adds, “Anyway, we might be expecting by then,” because it’s true and it’s also what she wants to hear.

Predictably, this shuts her mother up faster than any real protest might. “Oh, that’d be lovely,” Cameron’s mom says, a note of real longing in her voice. “The two of you would make such good parents. Robert was so gentle with your cousin’s baby at the christening last year.”

“I remember,” Cameron says. Her cursor hovers over a promising-looking venue, and she injects some of the resulting smile into her voice: “That’s why we want to do things fast, you know? We want to skip to the good part.”

“Well, just let me know,” her mom is saying, something about booking time off work and navigating hotels and will there be a proper wedding party or is this a real bona-fide elopement, but Cameron isn’t really listening anymore. She can wait two months, she thinks. And then she’ll never have to wait again.

[restforthe-burdenedsoul]

Wow! So many updates to process! I have therapy tomorrow thankfully

We are moved into the new place! I LOVE itttt! Still have so much unpacking to do. Made our first meal last night. Bow tie pasta with veggies and ground chicken. The kitchen is beautiful. I have so much room to cook and places to store my excessive amount of cookware 😁

I don’t have an opinion on the new job yet. Been doing your typical HR training. Today is the first day I’ve gotten to shadow. This Job makes much more sense to me than the hospital job and I’m feeling good about it. The coworkers are nice, but when the boss is out, boy oh boy do I hear the drama. My take away? Keep my head down and trust no one. That’s okay though. It fits with my new identity of not letting work be my identity. I think I’ll like the job overall

I’m learning that my ADD does not like sitting at a desk. I mean, obviously, but I am getting extremely agitated by the lack of movement. I didn’t realize how much I moved during the day. I do a lot of sitting on my phone in my off time, but not a lot of sitting in one spot. The adderall is very helpful with focus. Im not getting side tracked, but omg movement. I have lots of fidget toys now and am getting a standing desk thing for my keyboard.

My job is minutes away from my mother in laws and she has offered for me to hang at her place for lunch. So that is super helpful with breaking up my day. She and M’s grandmom will be here on Friday’s, so I’m gonna use that as an opportunity to connect with them more. I’ll see if we can plan lunches together 😌 there’s a little sadness in that as I used to visit my own mom on lunch breaks, being happy that I can do that with my husbands mom, but knowing my mom wouldn’t do this if places were swapped. Im really happy and excited that I’ve been building this bond with my mother in law, sad that my mom is missing out on building a relationship with my husband.

Speaking of which, M was promoted last week! I may have said this already. Only one promotion. Today his boss pulled him aside to chat. He wants to recommend M for higher positions in the future. They’re expanding into other states and areas and he wants M to open his own store or become a training manager for new sites! So they’ll start his training for that in his current role so when the opportunity comes, he’ll be able to do it asap. Very exciting! I know he’s wanted so many years to become a cop, but the matter of fact is that he excels in leadership and management. I think this is going to be really good for him

He was emailed yesterday about a hiring orientation for an out of state police academy he applied to. We don’t know if that means he’s hired or if it’s just another application step. He said he’s leaning towards Turning it down as he’s already being offered so much growth in his current job. I feel this is a good thought process, but I don’t want to sway him one way or another. We talked a lot about it yesterday and we’re both conflicted about having to move again and me starting a new job again. My job could potentially transfer to that state and there will always be other apartments. But we really need stability for a little bit. We’re both conflicted.

Anyway, overall, things are going really well and I’m excited about the present 😊

[1cai-fleakz1]

November 22, 2024

Today was a bit interesting. This whole week was, and I'm so glad it's finally the weekend. Let me talk about today though.

[in the morning time]

The guy wasn't able to fix my dad's truck yesterday. He looked at it super late, and by the time he figured out what the problem was, her had no time to go to a store and get the stuff to fix it. Also, my father was a little worried of the cost, and hoe expensive it would be. We have been having troubles with both of our cars, and it's just super expensive. So this morning I was stressing a little cause I thought I would have to walk to school in the cold, but fortunately, my mother was able to drive me to school before going to work. I got there super early though, which was awesome cause i go t a lot of time to start working on my assignment for English.

In first hour, which is Spanish, I was really starting to feel some strong resentment for my theater director/Spanish teacher. He has been being so annoying recently. Like today in FIRST HOUR, mind you, he told me that the extra credit project that I spend three days working on wasn't up to criteria the SECOND I gave it to him...bruh. He is so evil, and I just can't understand whyyyyy. And he said some ignorant things yesterday about how he was soo happy that we have such a diverse cast this year. Ummmm where? I'm the only black kid in the student run, and there's only two other POC in the main play, one of which is my love, who was giving a role because they needed extra side characters. UHhh..??!! So I was just mad, and telling the people at my Spanish table all this. Then second hour, all I did was the English study guide, and thank god I did, because we needed to use quotes for that test, and it was not an open book assignment. I lucked out so hard. OH MY GOD. I'm soo glad I did it. I really hope that I get a good grade on it too. I feel a loot more confident than I do for most of her tests, so that's good. Then lastly, in bio, I just worked on some basic stuff, and yapped to my friend. Nothing too special.

Practice today was worse than it was on Tuesday.. I unfortunately forgot more of my lines than before. I really just need to lock in for Sunday. Hopefully I'll be okay once we get the podium. I ended up not going to the show today, just because I really wasn't feeling it after this long week. I'll be going on Sunday though. And then tomorrow, I'll go to work with my mom.

The last thing I wanted to talk about that happened today was a bit mor serious. So basically, I was upset a few days agon because my friend had told me that me as well as one of ,my other guy friends weren't invited to the theater guy's night, because we were "forgotten" about., yeahhh... And it is taking place at one of my opps house, which is basically my neighbor. But I was expressing this ager to one of my friend's, a really dumb one in fact, that I was upset about this, but I didn't even really want to go so it didn't really matter THAT much. And as I was telling him this, an op walked up, so I signaled for my friend to be quite, but instead his dumb ahh decided to tell the op i=the situation, and bro was like, "Let's just add Cai to the GC." NOOOO!! I don't want to be a part of that ughhhh. And then today at lunch, The troll sent out a message saying, Hey sigmas, I forgot to mention, but there will be alcohol at the party, and I just wanted to tell you all. Cheers." pr something like that. And it just felt so icky and cringe and weird and also like no, I really don't want to be around any of you when you're drunk, that's a HORRIBLE idea. Especially since I'm not a cis guy. Like that just scares me. So I just left the GC. Thankfully they didn't say anything to me during theater today, but it was just so stupid, and cringe, and I just didn't want to be a part of it. Anyways, me and my friend planned to have a sleepover at my house the same day they are doing their little party, and we are going to ruin their stupid little night. Hahaha! Take that!

-goodnight, world

[lv-iceprince]

https://www.tumblr.com/lv-iceprince/764928245458206720/httpswwwtumblrcomlv-iceprince764842753956937

Oh. My. God. THE WAY I FLIPPED OUT AND GIGGLED READING THIS WHOLESOME INTERACTION WAS CONCERNING TO HUMANITY. I WAS DEFINITELY NOT PREPARED FOR ANY OF IT BUT IM LIVING FOR IT😭😭"no come for me, no one else just focus on being there with me.” I GOT SENT TO THE NEXT LIFE OMGGGG. You are soooo right about this being a dream come true and feeling so emotional about it, I’m about to cry just imaging the whole interaction and the way he CHOSE TO SING THE SONG YOU GAVE HIM- gosh that’s so precious🥹😭I have no words to even imagine how you feel, I’m so happy for you!! It can’t get any better that it was your literally your birthday concert😭You have every right to brag about this. Lmao Chan let our sunshine SING SIR🤣

Aww you deserved all of it, Felix is such a sweetheart and kind hearted soul. He was my ult 2 years back but now I’m more ot8 and got more into Ateez and Txt. But honestly, they still hit home to me and have special place in my heart

I love how moms are so supportive too and love the members as their sons, it feels like you’re just more close and bonded to them like family. And yeah! I especially love how the fandom community just include my mom and people of different ages as well. It’s so sweet

Awww I try lol it’s the community that are nice and kind hearted so I just love to be a part of that where we all just come together and support our group and members. It makes me feel like I belong and proud being a part of it. That’s so cute of your mom! My mom is doing the same thing in learning some Korean words and maybe do a choreography challenge one day lol, who knows but it’s so fun!

Aww you make me sparkle for an eternity too🥺♥️

~🎶

AHHHHHHHHHHH MY BEAUTIFUL ANON I'M SO SORRY I RESPONDED TO THIS LATE I WAS BUSY OUT OF NOWHERE AND THAT LASTED FOR LIKE 2 WEEKS AND I FINALLY GOT TO ACTUALLY SLEEP IN TODAY

I don't think anyone can be prepared and yeah I don't even think I'm even comprehending it the whole concert feels so dreamy and dazed haha. But I will always beef with Chan, he sassed me on a live before he misread what I meant and said and got sassy like dude read my comment properly it's all chill I wasn't commenting on anything bad like ughh. So that plus cutting off Felix adds to the petty playful non serious beef.

Felix really is different with his kindness, it hits different BUT WAIT TXT I DON'T HAVE ANYONE TO VENT TO OR NOT VENT BUT OH MY GOD OVER THE MOON. It hit like a train in the weirdest way. I wasn't used to the style so I was like meh but the FUCKING HARMONIES AND RUN ON CHORUS LIKE OH MY GOD WHOEVER DECIDED TO HAVE SOOBIN, HUENING KAI THEN TAEHYUN MARRY ME LIKE THAT IS IT THAT'S THE PURPOSE OF LIFE I CAN'T, I was going to call them basic until I actually got through the whole song and you can easily get what they're putting down and I'm so proud of them!!!! I need your thoughts as a fellow music lover! This comeback just put me right back into my Taehyun simping

Mum's are so wholesome and it feels like they're just underrated as stans, the fact they even show up with you is so sweet ahhh and yes! get your mum in on the korean and the challenges!

[daylilifiedsundrewdrops]

Tape Recording #4.

[ CLICK ]

Goo-oo-ood Afternoon! The last recording was a bit... much, wasn't it? Well, let's move on from that one. I think I feel better now, haha. So, not only am I recording not in the evening, but I'm also in a good mood today. Why? well it's the weekends, and also my mom is going away on a trip! I have the whole house to MYSELF!~ Oh, and Valentines day is tomorrow. I'll have something to use these flowers for. Anyway... [DING!] ...A notification? Okay, wait. Huh..? '' Hey, did you guys just hear? One of those Wilvewood Choir kids went missing.. ''? Missing? Hm... Okay, so, apparently, new missing person this week, from Wilvewood Highschool. One of those choir kids. Strange, I had a nightmare that started after they finished their song, you still remember that, Mr. Tape Recorder? It's... Not like I care as much for the Wilvewood kids. They... could just be runaways, many teenagers are. I could be that in the future. Uh.. Anyways, before we talk about anything else, I just have to go talk about my book reads this readathon. Already 4th day of the readathon, huh. '' Love Me More '' By Raylen Dinnovah, '' Sentimental Pendant '' By Abbie V. Ashley, '' Thorns On My Side '' By Eveo Neddie, and '' Lunar Darkness '', by Theodore Evvans. ...Only 4 books today, huh. Well, to be fair, it'll probably add up as the day goes on so whatever. I say that word a lot, hm. Well, since I have the home to myself, I'm planning to go onto that Gala! You know, the one that my classmates have? They invited me for it two weeks ago and I didn't show up because of my mom but since she isn't here I'm kind-of thinking.. Yeah I don't really know. But there'd be free food there. It's at 3 this Afternoon, and it's 1 PM right now. [Shuffling.] Yeah, 1:24 PM. And in fact, I'm even already all dressed up for it, thats how excited I am. I'm in this cute little- [They stand up, showcasing their dress as if the recorder could even see it.] -Dress! Purple and just my style. I think it'd fit well with my butterfly hairpin over here. I think I'll wear some mary janes too, oh, and maybe a little makeup, my mom never lets me wear those which is so hypocritical because she wears them too! And- [Knock!] ...Just a second. Why do I keep getting interrupted in the middle of this recording. Maybe it was better that I recorded at evening instead, like I usually did. [They leave their spot; the distant noise of a door opening is heard.] Who is- Wait, Adriel? Maricel! I wanted to see you. Are those- flowers? Yeah, I know it isn't Valentines, Valentines is tomorrow. But I wanted to ask you if you wanted to be my Valentine tomorrow. Super casual and all, you don't have to agree. That's funny, I was going to ask YOU if you wanted to be my Valentine. Our minds think alike then, so agree? ..Right, agree. Are you going to the Gala? You're dressed all pretty. Of course, I am. If you don't mind, I'll stay here until the Gala comes. I've never been to your house before and I heard your mom was out. Yeah. Sure. Let me just get something... [ CLICK ]

[luvinevrysecond]

July 5th 2011

Back again, so what to do with a story that was cut short, or worse, one that you don't know where you ended at, or even to start back up again? See the worst part of it is, this story I don't know what all to forget, and what to make sense of it all. I want to forget, to fast forward, and just live on. But that almost seems impossible, and not to mention, I can't even write well with good penmanship. This summer like totally sucks. I don't think that I have ever cried this much in a summer. I'm surprised that I have this many tears, ya know? Though, I'm not able to see that well. I'm not able to see _____ and to top it off, my BFF is blowing me off. My mom has me working in her office from 9 am to 5 pm every day Monday through Friday this summer. I have never been to the beach, ever, overtime I ask my mom for phone, e-reader, and iPod, it adds on another week, that I don't get it. How do I show that they broke me down so much that I learned my lesson in asking questions results in retaliations? How does that help me grow into being an adult? because I'm so at a cross I really don't know and I work in my mom's office tomorrow. Please kill me... I know that I'm getting paid $400 a week, it's just the fact of waisting my second to last summer break in an office from 9am to 5pm like I will be for the rest of my life... it sucks. All of this is breaking me down. I can't even write that well but I just don't know what to do.. I went out of my way to do good things around the house, kept my room cleaned, do the dishes, offer to cook dinners, leave the dishwasher empty if it's not running.. I don't know what else to do. I do things they don't ask but I know it helps them. I wonder how long it will take them to realize I don't smile anymore, the light inside my eyes has gone. I know other people realize it, those who come into my mom's office asking "are you okay?" and my mom gets mad because "not everything is about you, I can't have you sulking around. get over it." I just need to get away for at least a Saturday. Just drive to the mountains, but wait, I'm not allowed to get a permit yet, what would it matter, I don't have a cell phone anyways. but what I'm not allowed. I give up. and I don't know why I'm still crying over it. it's so stupid but whatever. I guess my shoulders will dip, the deepness of my eyes will become more prominent, almost hallow. She doesn't think that her actions towards me will ever be enough, that she has to do more. She doesn't think that I have learned what I did wrong. Which, in my defense. I didn't do anything. I just received a text from a softball friend asking for boy advice that's it. She saw me texting, saw the text and took my phone and everything away, like I can control that. A friend confided in me. Summer is almost half over, and what do I have to show for it, paler skin, more scares, no adventures... No pictures. No cell phone to even make the drive-in movies with friends happen, obviously no guys because of my mom, but at least a few from my softball team, but I can't make that happen. So what is there to show? Absolutely nothing.

There's no quit for her is there? I have to leave all of my technology downstairs, on the kitchen counter, and they measure it. Keep the ruler in the bedroom and if one thing is slightly moved, another week is added on. I just had another week added on because my sister thought it would be funny. See, I don't have them, my mom took them away, but keeps them in plain sight to me as a "reminder" for what I "did wrong" I feel it's more personal now, as a joke, like "let's see how long it takes to break" I'm her pawn. The sad thing now is that I'm starting to believe her. She got it working. Why do I have to be so easy. to beat? Why can't my heart be made of steel, or my bones made out of nails? You know, never to be defeated. Why can't that be me? Oh, that's right, I'm stuck. No car, no phone, no free time, shower times are limited. It's really hard to give a shit when I don't really have anything to work for, or work towards something. Because everything is a "reward" and it's like a dog on a treadmill with a bone on the end. The dog is never going to get the bone.

[demented-tours]

The project is simple: Dear World Rage Box. One photo, one text dump. Raw thoughts. Minimum editing. Fuck typos. Fuck perfection. No masking/curbing/appeasing. No apologies. I don't care how this sounds. Not sure why it needs to be public. Maybe it always won't. Maybe I delete these ten seconds after I post them. Maybe I print them out and make fucking wallpaper. Not creating yet another account for this, either. I've officially forgotten too many versions of myself to add another.

///

Dear World 1,

A half hour before my therapy appointment yesterday I learned my mother's stage 3 endometrial cancer might be back. My first response wasn't about her. It was about me.

How the fuck am I going to carry the weight of my mother's illness again? It almost did me in the first time. I was just starting to find energy/strength/reserves to feel ready for what's next.

Those doors didn't slam. But they creaked toward closed like a bad horror video game.

I don't know how to do all of it at once: deal with her co-dependency, her shut down, her undiagnosed everything and my long list of illnesses that I regularly use as a shield from her (from a lot of things) because it was the only boundary I had for decades. Because I didn't know what boundaries were. Felt like. Could do. Should do.

Some people are born to fight. I think I was born to defend. It's how I've never lost a game of chess. I just run the board until there's nothing left. Even if you might win, it'll take so long and be so painful you'll wish you'd just put down your king on move 2.

During the appointment, I told my therapist about the day I had last week which was--and I called it this--one of the top 3 worst days of this year. At least, so far. It can definitely always get worse.

I tell her I'm worried I'm depressed. I'm worried I've been depressed for a while. I tell her about Mom and about the day last week. I tell her these stories with my usual sprinkling of humor. Because I have to let her know Oh, yeah, even though it's awful I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay.

I'm not fucking okay.

She wants to circle back to the depression. Her use of language made me think of work which made me hate from my core being again. She asked me questions. I knew I wasn't going to answer the right way. She both could and could not tell me what I was experiencing was depression. I don't wish for depression. I wish not to have to justify whatever the fuck I'm feeling.

It's bad enough to have to justify my autism to my own mother. It's bad enough that every other week or so, I discover some other way my life was fucked up, and I see how I've defended it or transmuted it or run from it or hidden it because if I make other people feel more comfortable, then I win, right?

I feel myself on the brink of full melt down. I know now that these aren't panic attacks. They aren't me just being difficult. They aren't me being suicidal, despite the fact that they literally make me feel like what is boiling inside me is actually going to kill me.

My ambiguity over allowing that to happen still baffles me.

I got mad. My anger is my sharpest weapon. It was honed on the active battle field of my childhood. People who know me know this. People who know me who have experienced my anger first hand either know how to duck or left a cloud of dust as they ran. If you know me and don't know my rage, then you just don't know me.

that's okay. I wouldn't want to know me, either.

(Fuck. Editing. Stop that. Type, goddamn you.)

I got mad. My therapist got uneasy. Suddenly what she thinks and believes and hopes to do no longer applies. She tells me that the reason I may be so exhausted is I'm fighting the very feelings I tell her I have no interest in feeling.

I come at her. "So what?"

I see when that hits. I feel how that lands. Even though a screen. I hate that I'm this attuned instrument for feelings for a 1000 square mile emotional radius. I don't want my own. I definitely don't want yours.

But so what if it's exhausting not to feel it. It feels like death if I do. I feel backed into a corner, asked to defend a depression she seems simultaneously concerned I might have and certain I don't. I didn't want to bring it up to debate it. I brought it up to work on it.

I forgot there's a script she has to run when that word gets dropped into the session. I forgot how tired neurotypical scripts make me.

Nah, it's not holding back the emotions making me tired. It's living in the world that cause them that's doing me in.

Or both.

She speaks. I speak. I find some measure of calm. Less because I want it and more because she clearly wants me to find it. She tells me maybe it's time to find another therapist for autism. She can come with me, she says, but she doesn't have the tools to help me.

Yeah. I know that. But I've spent six years growing this sparse-ass garden of trust between us, and now you're telling me nothing else is gonna grow.

I've already looked into it. I've already found faces that seem kind. I've already thought this. I've already starting reading. I've already been doing research on what the fuck I might actually be for years, now.

But it still felt like another person supposed to help me who basically said I was too much once they catch a glimpse of this iceberg under the surface they thought they knew.

Which is shitty. But expected.

Today I saw this TIkTok wherein the narrator explains to me that he cannot trust his perceptions of the world when he's tired. He expounds on to say don't trust your thoughts when you're stressed/tired/hungry/hurting. They're tainted. Observe and let go.

Also talks about taking all the negative thoughts and bundling them into a single problem. Because then you don't have ten problems; you have one. And likely you've faced it before.

His problem was running out of time.

That video helped me more than the entire session with therapist. Maybe helped me more than the last ten. I don't want to do the math on how much I've paid for a glorified distraction and master class on masking just enough to make my therapist comfortable, but my brain's already done it.

Runaway train.

I also stumbled into some art student video content with horror-like elements that felt like visiting my dark thoughts generator and hearing some of the shit it says.

The algorithm might be evil, but sometimes evil is still right.

We don't know if it's cancer.

Fuck liminal spaces.

Fuck this year. Fuck thinking it'll get better. And fuck the fact that at the end of yesterday's session, I settled on, "Fine, I guess it's not depression. I guess I'll just say I'm chronically sad."

Apparently, that's situationally appropriate.

I hate that I agree.

I hate that part of me doesn't.

I want to burn something down.

/D

Photo: Wrecked tub. The cold water handle disintegrated in my hand after I tried to run it to fix another problem that didn't actually exist. The plumbing was welded into the wrong lines. It was a "Goddamned nightmare." Keep buying parts and finding more are missing. Felt like me.