#sneaker stories

[bunnieswithknives]

Fop redesigns for funsies but also bcs I saw some star heel boots and had to put Dale in them immediately.

[proll4you]

Ich konnte meinen Blick nicht von ihnen abwenden. Da lagen sie vor ihrem Zelt und steckten ihre Zungen sich gegenseitig in ihr Maul. Ihre Outfit machte mich schon alleine an und ich hatte das Gefühl, dass das ganze Festival sehen musste, wie steif mein Schwanz in meiner Hose war. Ich traute mich nicht sie anzusprechen, doch dann passierte es und einer der beiden stand auf und ging in meine Richtung.

Wie soll die Stroy weitergehen? Wie versaut soll sie enden?

[anon-sect]

"Your shoes really reek, dude. You need to air them out." Lenny complains to his roommate in his dorm room. Nick had been his roommate for the past three years at college. Somehow, they kept being put together each time. Each year, he had to put up with his foul-smelling running shoes. Nick was a 6'5" tall athlete jock on the college track team. He was running at least 7 miles just about every day. The odor from his favorite running pair was so pungent.

"They are my favorite to run in. And I am not changing them. So deal with it." Nick told him as he went to his next class, leaving the foul sneakers behind.

Lenny had enough of them. So he put them in a trash bag. He went to the garbage shot in the hallway and shoved them down the pipe. He was satisfied that he didn't have to smell them anymore.

While Lenny was napping, he was awoken by Nick. "You seen my running shoes? I can't find them." He was asked. He thought about lying to him, but the truth would come out eventually. "I threw them in the garbage shot. If you want them, you can go looking in the basement." He spoke as he turned over to ignore him to go back to napping.

Nick was upset. He really loved those shoes. What Lenny didn't know was that those sneakers were special. They were once a former human who used to bully him in the neighborhood. He turned him into sneakers to punish him. He loved torturing his former bully with his feet. Now, he needed a new replacement pair. Since Lenny decided to chunk his shoes without telling him first, he knew whom to replace his favorite pair of running shoes with.

Nick grabbed his TF device from his backpack and put in the setting for sneakers. He pointed at Lenny. With one flash, Lenny was reduced to a new pair of running sneakers. He picked them up to examine them. He pressed on the insoles. They seemed even better than his previous favorite.

Lenny instantly awoke to feel a change. He found himself split in half and in a different form. He felt fingers pressing down on his face. "You got rid of my favorite pair of running shoes. I really loved running on the bully that used to torment me in my neighborhood back home. That guy was a good pair of sneakers. But now you have to replace him. You will be my new favorite running sneakers. This is the consequence of throwing that other guy away without knowing the full truth." He heard Nick speak to him and laughed. The foul sneakers used to be a person all this time, and he chunk him like a common object. Now, this was his fate. He tried screaming for help but lacked any vocal ability. He couldn't even move on his own. He felt Nick place him on the floor. He had a sick feeling of what was coming next.

Nick placed his new running sneakers on the floor. He grabbed a pair of socks he wore for three days straight. He quickly sniffed them and saw the stench was horrible. The thought of Lenny having to deal with that made him smile. He put the stinky socks on his feet and put on his new favorite sneakers without a single care about Lenny.

Lenny would have gagged if he had a physical mouth. The socks that were now pressing down on his face was so foul, it smelled like something died in it. Next came the being walked on part. Each step felt like a building crushing him over and over. He could feel the floor and ground beneath him as though his back was being ground into it. He thought it couldn't get worse till Nick started running. He was in constant pain and agony feeling the ground beneath him and the foul stench of the socks bearing down on his insole face. As Nick continued to run on his usual nine-mile run, the socks began to get sweaty. The sweat combined with the stench saturated the inside of the sneakers. He now had no way to escape from the smell.

Nick returned back to the dorm room after his run. It was a little weird having it all to himself now. But he loved his new favorite sneakers. They were way better than the previous ones. He was glad those were gone. Lenny was a great replacement. If anyone asked about his roommate, he would tell them he didn't know where he was. Besides, no one would believe that he was turned into a pair of sneakers anyway. "You were excellent on my run. I am looking forward to running in you nearly every day. If anyone asks about you, I will not know where you went. Thanks for chunking those other shoes. You are much better than them." He told his shoes as he went to go take a shower. He loved that his new shoes already had his foot stench. It should be a badge of honor for Lenny to smell like his feet on day one.

Lenny regretted getting rid of the other sneakers. Had he known that he would be replacing them, he would have just suck it. Now his fate was the same as the other guy. He was Nick's sneakers, and no one would be the wiser.

[sortoftemporarypeace]

(via Pinterest)

[themintman]

And once again I'm late to the joke. But yk what hell yeah

[elderwisp]

◁ || ▷

?: Annnnd the teacher’s lounge. You’re more than welcome to hang your stuff here. I actually suggest it, sometimes the students like to peek into people’s things.

Taryn: Ah, I see. Can I set my lunch in the fridge?

?: Sure! Oh and don’t bother bringing in lunch on Wednesdays or Fridays. The school usually caters for us on those days.

Taryn: That’s really nice!

?: Yep. I’ve worked at other schools and this one is probably the better of the handful.

Taryn: Amazing!

?: One catch.

Taryn: Oh.

?: Well a lot of the kids here are incredibly troubled. Can’t really do much about it but the higher ups try to do all of these little perks to help with morale.

Taryn: How bad is it?

?: I wouldn’t be surprised if you quit the first day. Honestly, I wouldn't hold it against you.

Taryn: Lovely.

-

[ thunk ! ] 

Kids: [ giggling ]

[ thunk ! ]

Kids: [ laughing ]

Taryn: Where are you even getting that paper from? [ gasps ] The books!

Kid one: My mom says all librarians turn into a hag.

Taryn: That’s not very nice.

Kid two: You kinda look like one hunched over like that.

Taryn: Hey!

Kid three: AHHHH!

Taryn: WAIT-

Kid four: That’s what you get for calling me a cheese ball!

Kid three: You even smell like one- OUCH!

Taryn: Stop it!

Taryn: No!  

Kid four: Get back here you troll!

[livwritesstuff]

The first pair of shoes Eddie purchased for himself when he started rebuilding the life he’d lost when his trailer was destroyed was a pair of Doc Martens.

They were new (well, not new – he’d still thrifted them, but they were barely worn, probably surrendered by some yuppie who liked the style but couldn’t handle the pain of breaking them in) and big and black and heavy with steel toes and thick woven laces.

Those boots went everywhere with him – navigating those first few years of recovering from all the trauma he’d suffered in ‘86, finally leaving Hawkins in 1990, his move to Washington in ’94 to live with Steve while he finished out his psych program, their joint move to Boston a couple years later, his first book release in ‘95 and his second in ‘99, not to mention all the countless big and small adventures that filled in all those gaps.

When Eddie and Steve’s daughter Moe was born in 2001, Eddie temporarily retired the boots.

There was a period during those first few years of her life when she was both very small and always underfoot, a combination that meant concerns about tripping on her were high enough without Eddie adding steel-toed boots larger than his kid into the mix.

So for a while, the boots sat on the floor in his and Steve’s closet collecting dust.

Then Moe got a little bit older and the boots started collecting other things.

“Ed, come look at this,” Steve snickers.

He’s in their closet, trying to tackle the cataclysmic mess that has accumulated over the last year and a half, because trivial things like cleaning had kind of taken the backseat the second they met Moe – as they should; Eddie maintains that there is literally nothing he’d rather do than spend time with his daughter, bar none. Alas she does need to nap sometimes, and he supposes that’s when all the other shit gets done.

He joins Steve in the closet to see that he's holding one of Eddie's Docs.

“Look what Moe did,” Steve continues, holding out the boot.

Eddie takes it, immediately noticing that it’s even heavier than usual. He peers inside to see that it’s filled to the brim with stuff – a small wooden car, a travel deodorant from his last trip to New York for work, a pair of socks, sunglasses, several loose bandaids, one of Steve’s combs, a roll of Smarties (it’s a wonder she didn’t eat them), a veritable cache of treasures in the eyes of their eighteen-month-old. 

The other boot is pretty much exactly the same.

“Oh my god,” Eddie beams, “She’s fucking incredible.”

“She’s inheriting your raccoon behavior," Steve replies with a wicked grin.

“Alright.”

[doublxpresso]

「To this pitiful me」

page 27 - 28

beginning << page 25 - 26 < . > page 29 - 30

[workingforitallthetime]

I am BEGGING you to say more about Will and Mack in silence on the other side!! on my KNEES!

conveniently, i have 3.5K of will/mack that i could not resist expelling from my brain at the end of the google doc. grab a marshmallow stick and let me tell you a campfire story.

(this is very much an epilogue and is not going to make sense unless you've read silence on the other side. if you want the reward of mack/will you have to suffer through the mortifying ordeal of will/gabe/leno.)

Will could wait for Gabe to ask, but she’s done letting things happen to her. She packs a suitcase. She sits on the couch and waits. When she hears the sound of Gabe’s key in the door, she slips off her ring and clenches her fingers around it. The diamond digs into her palm as she rehearses the words in her head. I can’t get married. I’m sorry.

She texts her sister on the way to the airport, after the angry red dent fades. The pale strip around her ring finger is going to take longer, just like the mark on her neck. Can I stay with you for a couple of days?

Of course. Grace answers quick. Are you in Boston? Is everything ok?

Will’s not going to cry in the back of an Uber. Flight gets in at 10:30. And no. 

As the plane pulls away from the gate, she texts Ryan. I’m moving back to Boston. She should switch into airplane mode. Instead, she waits as they taxi.

The reply comes as the plane rounds the turn onto the runway, bright rows of lights blazing the path ahead. Didn’t know you were from Boston.

Will’s swiping her thumb over the text thread to delete it when one last message pops up. Thought it was West Philadelphia. She snorts in spite of herself, and lowers her thumb onto the red trash can before she can second-guess it. She’s not going to cry on a plane, either.

The night air when she emerges from the sliding doors at arrivals is still late-summer muggy. Grace picks her up at the airport, and Will gives her the briefest version. I told Gabe we’re not getting married. No, it wasn’t a mutual decision. No, I don’t know what it’s going to cost. No, I haven’t told mom and dad yet, I’ll do it tomorrow. No, don’t say anything in the bridesmaid group chat, I’ll do it tomorrow. 

The wheels of her suitcase are gritty on the floor of Grace’s apartment. She changes into pajama pants and an old St. Catherine’s t-shirt. She drinks a glass of water and racks the glass in Grace’s dishwasher. She sinks onto the couch, tipping her head back on top of the cushions.

“Oh my god.” Grace stops short at the edge of the room, peering at Will over the armload of bedding she’s bearing. “Did you break up with Gabe because he’s a vampire?”

Will touches the mark on her neck. It doesn’t feel like anything. If she hadn’t seen it in the mirror, she wouldn’t know it was there. “Wasn’t Gabe.”

Grace’s eyes bug out. I don’t want to talk about it, Will says, it’s not a thing. It’s not, like, the reason. It’s just something that happened. She takes the sheets from Grace and shakes them out and tucks herself into the couch. The streetlights outside cast thin stripes through the blinds and across the floor. She’s not going to cry into Grace’s fleece Patriots blanket.

The feeling in her stomach, hollow and sick, that settled in while she waited for Gabe to come home hasn’t gone away. It won’t go away for many days yet. Terrible days. Days of overhearing her mother on the phone apologizing to relatives about their nonrefundable flights. Days of trying to cancel wedding registries before she gets any more notifications about purchased gifts. Days of ignoring the voice messages from her parish priest, the one who was supposed to officiate. The absolute last person Will wants to talk to is a priest.

She goes back to the Midwest, feeling like a burglar in her own apartment as she packs up her things while Gabe is pointedly not home, driving her car along ugly interstates back to Massachusetts with her dad. Somewhere in Pennsylvania, while the road is empty in the beam of their headlights and they’re between episodes of a podcast about white collar crime, he tells her he’s proud of her. He knows it must have been a difficult decision. He trusts her to make the right choices. All Will can say past the lump in her throat is thank you. The tears trickle down the sides of her face in the dark.

She stays at her parents’ house. She writes thank-you notes that are mostly apologies. She goes to brunch with the friends who were supposed to be her bridesmaids, tells them it just didn’t feel right, I knew I’d regret it. None of them mention the cost of the bachelorette weekend last spring, but Will knows they’re all thinking it. When her mom asks, Will tells her she can pick up the dress if she wants. Will doesn’t want to see it. Every time she drives past the country club, the sick feeling in her stomach twists into a hard knot of shame.

On the September Saturday when Will was supposed to get married, Grace makes her go for a hike in New Hampshire. Golden leaves drift over the top of the low stone wall along the trail. At the top of the mountain, granite hills and colorful trees spread out below them. The lake in the valley sparkles in the autumn sunshine. They eat burgers at a roadside diner afterwards and drive back into Massachusetts after dusk, and then the day is over. It’s over, it’s done, it’s finally behind her, and now everything else is ahead.

She starts commuting into the office again. When coworkers ask, she tells them the Midwest didn’t work out. The engagement didn’t work out. After that, there aren’t any conversations about how unreliable she was last summer. She stays on top of her inbox, meets her deadlines early. Never misses a meeting. 

Boston’s not the same. Her old places are all Gabe’s old places too. Her friends are all Gabe’s friends. Most of them aren’t reaching out. Even the ones who are on her side seem confused by her. They don’t understand, because Will can’t imagine telling anyone the real story.

She thinks about going out. Thinks about getting on the apps. Trying to figure out… whatever it is she has to figure out. She can’t manage to pull the trigger. Someone could see her, recognize her.

Losing Boston, or at least the version of Boston she used to love, feels like another breakup. A separate grief just as painful as her grief for Gabe and everything their life was supposed to be. But Will ends it just as unflinchingly as she did her engagement. She finds a new job, something in finance or business or law in New York City, because that’s the place you’re supposed to go to start over.

The details of the job aren’t important. All that’s important is that it’s a job where beauty and breeding and ruthlessness are assets, and Will’s able to leverage all three to the hilt. Oh, and also it’s in an established industry where Rick Celebrini is a known and feared figure.

Will makes the connection pretty quickly when she’s introduced to her coworker Macklin. Mack is a half-step ahead of her at all times and it would be infuriating for Will, if she didn’t like him so much. Or if he didn’t like her so much. Everyone tells them they’re such a great team, hitting all their metrics, seizing opportunities, climbing the ladder together. Will sees in Mack a kind of internal steeliness that matches her own, which isn’t that surprising from someone who was raised by Rick.

Will’s kept cautious by the pervasive sense that she would fuck up anything she started with Mack. That’s what she does. She ruins things. She ruined everything with Gabe, and she’ll ruin anything she starts with another guy. And she really can’t afford to ruin anything with Rick Celebrini’s son. She’s found her niche in this industry, and getting on the wrong side of Rick would mean starting over, again.

So Will remains just as impervious as she can be. Even as she and Mack get closer and closer, and everyone in the firm starts to talk about them as a dynamic duo, and their rising stars are more and more closely linked together, she keeps everything strictly professional. Sometimes her eyes follow the lines of Mack’s three-piece suits not just to appreciate the tailoring, and as soon as she catches herself she looks the other way.

(She’s scared. Scared that nothing’s ever going to feel like it did with Ryan. Scared that nobody else is ever going to love her as much as Gabe did. She’s scared she doesn’t understand what she wants and that she’ll never figure it out. She’s scared there’s something fundamentally wrong with her and that’s why she hurts people. She’s scared that how much she likes Mack means she’s going to hurt him too. She’s scared and nobody knows it, least of all Will.)

Mack’s fascinated by her, and all the more fascinated because of the total blank of her personal life. When he tries to draw her out, he learns about growing up in Lexington, prep school and field hockey, going to BC. They talk about Boston, joke about their BC/BU rivalry, threaten to bet on the Beanpot. Will goes to office happy hours, is clever and engaging at client dinners. But she dodges all questions about what her life is like outside of work. Mack doesn’t know anything about her friends, doesn’t know whether she’s dating anybody, doesn’t even know whether she’s straight.

But Mack knows the connection’s there, and he’s going to keep trying. Picture those gifs from the 49ers game: Mack’s trying to get Will’s attention, and Will’s ignoring him, and Mack doesn’t even care. He’s willing to work for it. He wants to work for it. That’s how Rick raised him: how hard you work is the measure of how much you care.

One day Will rounds the corner by the elevators and walks into a knot of coworkers talking about some smart maneuver Mack pulled, something he talked over with Will in advance so she immediately recognizes a reference to a client or a contract term. “No dick, but he’s got plenty of balls,” says someone with their back to Will, and everyone who saw her come around the corner gets an awkward expression on their faces.

Will gives them the same look of icy disdain she uses to shut down people who call her Mack’s work wife. Someone says loudly that they’ve got a conference call starting in a few and the group hurriedly dissolves, except one office gossip who caught Will’s momentary confusion and has been simply dying for an excuse to have a conversation with her on this topic. She follows Will into the elevator. “Didn’t you know he’s trans?” she says as soon as he doors close. “It’s all very hush-hush, nobody ever says anything because Rick’s bitten a few heads off about it. I was there at an off-site when he literally yelled at someone about pronouns.”

(Just imagine Rick Celebrini when his kid announces he’s a boy. Okay, says Rick, not in so many words, if you’re a boy you’d better be the most boy you can be. What are you doing today to be a better boy? Mack’s grown up with Rick micromanaging his medical care and tailoring his punishing workouts to achieve some not entirely defined standard of masculinity and generally making Mack feel like he’s not working hard enough if he’s not at all times trying to be The Most Boy. Rick does not react kindly to anyone who suggests that Mack is anything other than his son… including and especially Mack, who is immediately reminded that he is All Boy, Only Boy if there’s ever any suggestion he might stray from Rick’s expectations of masculinity. Mack knows better than to say yes when the menswear stores he frequents suggest a pink shirt or a floral tie to go with one of those three-piece suits.)

Not that Will knows any of that. She dials the iciness a few degrees colder and hums the most neutral hmmm in her vocabulary until her coworker blessedly exits the elevator, disappointed by Will’s unsatisfying reaction.

Will lets the doors close. She punches the button for a different floor without looking at the display, aiming generally for something a long way away.

It’s just a surprise, that’s all. That’s why her heart’s racing, the unexpectedness of it. A confounding variable in the already tangled mess of Will trying to sort out her own identity. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything on the long list of reasons why she needs to keep Mack firmly in valued colleague/work best friend territory.

It’s a chink in the wall, though. And a wall that’s already being subjected to Mack’s considerable efforts, as well as geologic forces beyond Will’s control, is going to crumble eventually.

It happens at the holiday party. Some swanky venue rented out for the night, marble pillars, parquet floors. Raw seafood on ice, top-shelf drinks. Towering centerpieces with pine boughs and crystals. Will, in her classy little black dress, doesn’t have a date, of course. Neither does Mack, in his black suit with some requisite element of lowkey corporate festive. A red plaid vest, a tie with tiny holly berries on it, something like that.

They circulate through cocktail hour like the pros they are, catching glimpses of each other through the crowd, always aware of where the other one is. Somebody’s seated them at the same table for dinner (Mack might have had something to do with this) and after a couple of glasses of champagne Will forgets that she ought to be making holiday-appropriate small talk with everyone else at the table and she starts doing what she actually wants to do, which is talk to Mack. Mack, with his blue eyes and soft hair and strong fingers tapping the base of his rocks glass, making Will feel like she’s at her witty, charming best. Basically, everyone else is Tyler Toffoli on the plane and Will and Mack are in their own little world.

They sneak sideways glances at each other during the speeches and toasts, silent acknowledgement of corporate inside jokes. Will doesn’t look at Mack when Rick’s got the spotlight, but she can feel him sitting up straighter next to her, a little bit of extra rigidity in his spine.

After dessert the table groups start to dissolve and word starts to spread among Mack and Will’s coworkers, the younger crowd, about where the afterparty’s headed. Mack catches Will at the edge of a conversation and says something low into her ear, just for her. Want to go someplace else?

Will does.

Mack takes her someplace loud and anonymous, with more drinks and a crowded dance floor. Will doesn’t shrug off Mack’s hand at the small of her back. They dance, closer and closer together, and Will’s eyes are shining, and when Mack finally kisses her Will kisses back like she’s drowning. 

I’m calling a car, Mack says, and Will doesn’t let go, too much adrenaline and champagne and desperation to think about whether this is theoretically a bad idea. It’s been so long since somebody she cares about has touched her. Mack’s apartment is quiet and tasteful and Will barely sees it. She doesn’t want Mack to be something that happens to her. If this is happening, she’s going to make it happen just as much as Mack is.

If I was going to write a sex scene here it would be about how the expectations of masculinity that Rick has imposed on Mack have taken root in Mack’s assumptions about how he ought to have sex, and how that does or doesn’t align with what Mack actually wants, and how all of that collides with what Will wants, which is to eat that boy’s pussy.

Will falls asleep with her head on Mack’s chest and wakes up with the enormity of it all setting in. This is big, this is huge, and nothing that happened last night alleviated the underlying fear that she’s going to fuck it all up.

Mack can practically feel the tension radiating across the sheets at him. He reaches for Will. “I don’t want this to be a one-off.”

This does not have the desired effect of Will relaxing into him. Heart sinking, Mack tries again. “It can be if you want, though.” The pinch in Will’s brows doesn’t go away. Mack scoots back so he’s not touching her. “Just so you know, that’s really not what I want.” In the absence of a response, Mack starts desperation-yapping. “I know there’s something here, and I think you do to, and last night felt…”

Will’s eyes are huge across the gap between their pillows. She has to say something. “I’m a bad bet,” is what comes out. “I break everything.”

“Are you saying that because you want me to walk away?” Mack’s hoping that’s a quick answer, but Will looks like she’s actually thinking about it, so he keeps talking. “Do you want me to walk away?”

Very quietly, against the pillow, Will admits it. No.

Mack exhales. “Like, I’m not gonna. It’ll have to be you.”

He grins, like this is a joke, and it infuriates Will because he doesn’t understand. It’s not funny. Will’s warning him that he’s going to get hurt and he’s laughing. “That’s what I’m worried about,” Will hisses through her gritted teeth.

“That you’ll break up with me?” Mack, incredulous. “I can take it. That’s not a reason not to, like, try.” He reaches for Will again and Will lets him. “I could change my mind and dump your ass too.”

Will gives him a scornful look at the suggestion that anyone could ever break up with her, and Mack cracks up because it’s such an extremely Will reaction. “Let’s just be good, okay?” Will lets herself be pulled into his arms. “Until you break up with me, and I’ll deal with it. We can be good for now, right?”

Will whispers it against his lips before she kisses him. So good.

Eventually they get up. Will picks through Mack’s collection of sweats and ends up in a Canucks hoodie and Lulu joggers because she refuses to wear anything that has BU on it. They get coffee, and while they’re drinking it at opposite ends of Mack’s couch with their feet tangled together in the middle, Mack says I think you should tell me more about what you said earlier. About breaking everything.

Will’s silent, turning the sleeve of her coffee around and around the cup. There’s no way to avoid it. Mack’s going to have to find out sometime, if they’re going to do this. And Will really, increasingly every second, wants them to do this. “I was engaged,” she says, watching Mack. She can practically see his mouth forming questions, but he waits. “Like two years… three years ago now. My college boyfriend. Gabe. We were together for seven years. We moved to [Midwest city].”

“You lived in [Midwest city]?” Macklin’s laughing. “I can’t even picture it.”

“I know, right?” Will briefly experiences the warm glow of being known before she gets back to business. “It didn’t work. I cheated on him.” Will takes a deep breath. “Like, a lot. Her name was Ryan.”

She watches for Mack’s reaction to the pronoun, but he just nods. When Will doesn’t say anything else, Mack asks, “What happened to her?”

“I don’t know.” Will used to think about googling, but there’s no place to start. Ryan. The dive bar. The city. That’s all she knows. “It wasn’t… like that.”

“What happened to Gabe?”

“I ended it.” Will doesn’t have to google Gabe. He pops up in suggested posts, in her friends’ tags. He has a new girlfriend. They got a puppy. “It was, like, not very long before the wedding,” she adds, just so Mack knows how awful she is. “It really, really sucked.” Will puts all of the anguish of that brutal September into each really.

Mack forms his next question carefully. “Did you break up with him because he was a guy, or because he wasn’t the right guy?” 

“I don’t know.” Will lifts her chin defiantly. It’s the most vulnerable thing she’s ever said. Here’s my fucked up situation. Here’s what you’re getting into. 

“What’s that mean for me?” Mack does not relate to identity crises, having had his own identity rigorously reinforced since adolescence (or so he thinks). “Being… the guy that I am.”

“Oh, are you trans? I hadn’t noticed,” Will says, like she didn’t have her tongue in his pussy ten hours earlier.

Mack laughs, and that’s enough vulnerability for two people who don’t like it and are going to have to figure that part out later. “We should have dinner next weekend, if you don’t break up with me before then.”

If I was not inherently resistant to established relationship fic, there would be a lot to explore here. Chiefly, I’m intrigued by what happens when Rick’s singleminded focus on Mack’s masculinity (and the not-necessarily-positive ways that Mack has internalized that), collide with Will’s attraction to Mack, which is not premised on masculinity. Will’s got to figure her own shit out somewhere along the way, but she’s at least pretty sure that 100 percent masculinity is not on her list of priorities in a partner. I think that Rick is immediately welcoming to Will, to a degree that’s almost curious, and Will and Mack slowly realize that in Rick’s eyes Mack’s earned some kind of manhood badge by bringing home a hot girlfriend. Also, as ever, there’s a plot to be made out of Rick treating Will like another Celebrini child who warrants Rick’s micromanaging, and Will figuring out how to resist that without alienating Rick, and along the way prompting some realizations for Mack about the ways in which his Sheriff Rick upbringing was maybe a little bit fucked up.

Anyway. Here’s how the story would end. Mack makes it a running joke about Will breaking up with him. What do you want to do for Valentines’ Day, if you don’t break up with me before then? At first it’s jarring, and then it’s a comfort, a little reassurance that Mack still likes her enough that he’s willing to risk it all going wrong. Yeah, I could do Thanksgiving in Lexington if you’re not going to break up with me… Do you want to come to Whistler with us this year, if you haven’t dumped me by then?... I’m going to book our flight for R.J.’s graduation weekend unless you want to break up first. And then, over time, it starts to become jarring again. We should move in together when your lease is up if you’re not going to break up with me.

“Stop saying that,” Will finally says. “I’m not going to.”

“You’re not going to break up with me?” Mack’s about to fist-pump over his long game paying off. “Like ever?”

“Like ever,” Will confirms, and Mack can’t get down on one knee fast enough.

[proll4you]

Immer wieder das gleiche am Flughafen. Irgenwie ziehe ich die Sicherheitskräfte an. An was wird das wohl liegen?

[anon-sect]

Pete heard a special contest was being hosted by Chris Hemsworth. One lucky winner would receive a prize from the actor in person. He was a big fan of him and the many roles that he had played in his acting career. He went to the website and saw the contest. All he needed to do was answer some questions and submit the questionnaire. He then would be entered for whatever the prize would be.

It was a month later that Pete received an email stating that he won the contest. He would be receiving plane tickets to meet up with the actor in a couple of days. All hotel arrangements would be made in person once they meet. He was so excited. He really wondered what his prize would be. Yet, the honor of winning out of how many entered was just enough to have him jumping up and down. He couldn't wait to actually meet Chris in person.

Three days later, Pete was in a limo heading out to the actor's actual residents. That was surprising to him. He really wasn't expecting this. Now, he really began to wonder what the prize was. They didn't even bother to make hotel arrangements yet before he was ushered to his house.

Pete was met at the front door by the actor himself. "Come on in, Pete. And congratulations on winning the contest." Chris greeted him. Pete followed him in and sat on the couch in his den. "Want anything to drink? I have tea and water." He was really shocked. The actor was being so friendly with him after just meeting for the first time. "Water is fine." He told him.

He saw Chris come back with a glass of sparkling water. Pete took it and began to guzzle it down. "You probably are wondering what your prize is." He heard him say. He just nodded in response to the actor.

Chris watched as Pete finished the glass of water. He pulled out his phone and opened up the newest upgrade to the TF Pro App. The newest upgrade was TF Max app. He put in the setting on his phone. "Your prize is to help me work out at home. The water you drank has a special ingredient in it. It will make you extremely durable. But unfortunately, it will have a few side effects." He paused. "All of your senses would be heightened by almost 1,000%. All normal feelings will be at the extreme. But this is the only way to make sure you last for a very long time." He added.

Pete was so confused at what was really going on. "How specifically will I be helping you work out at home?" He asked him.

"It's best that I show you." Chris told him as he hit the flash option on his phone. A brand new pair of sneakers were there in front of him. "You will be my special pair of sneakers to wear when I work out. With the new app, I could repurpose you as I please and even turn you back to normal even if your data is deleted." He paused and laughed a little. "I guess it's not much of a prize when I am the one gifted with nearly indestructible sneakers. No time like the present to test you out." He spoke as he gathered his new sneakers and went to change into his workout gear.

Pete didn't know what to think. He didn't know whether to be upset that the act literally made him into shoes for his use; or to be honored, the actor selected him for that purpose. Moments later, he saw two socked feet enter his shoes bodies. The socked feet pressed down on his insole face. It was then he realized the nature of his fate. The pain was so intense that he was going mentally insane. It literally felt like an entire continent was crushing him, but no death. Even though the actor's feet hadn't stink yet, he could smell every pore on his feet with intensity. He could taste the cotton of the fresh socks.

Pete's fate got even worse as Chris worked out over an hour. The pain of being crushed was never-ending. But add on a sweaty and musky pair of socks. He was in a living hell. The intensity of the odor was crazy. The taste of sweaty socks made him want to gag for fresh water and air. The fact that the actor was working out without a single care about how his sneakers were faring made him realize he was literally the actor's property. He admired Chris, but to be his personal pair of sneakers was a little bit too much. He wanted to go back to being human, not an object on his feet forever.

Chris finished his workout feeling good. His feet felt no pain. His new shoes were working out perfectly. He thought about thanking the guy for offering himself, but who really thanks their shoes. It was time for him to get used to his new life. All of his other fan created objects did eventually. His new shoes were no different.

[batneko]

Okay so we all agree socks and sandals is tacky (do not argue with me on this, you are wrong) but since crocs are technically clogs, is it okay to wear socks with them?

[meandhisjohn]

STORY TIP...

This time a classic but new to me.

I have a list of 30 fics I'm going to read this winter.

Started last week and love it so far.

Last night I started a classic fanfiction story I neglect for too long.

I'm only on page 145 but it is already extremely promising.

Not only because of my favourite badass Moriarty is a big part of the story and it starts with little Sherlock and a brilliant opening but..

It features the Sherlock I have in my mind.

A genius man child with baggage on his soul so strong it almost threatens to suffocate him.

Lonely, longing and clever is the status of Sherlock until a certain army-doctor doctor arrives but does John really know what he signed up for when accepting Sherlock’s dinner invitations and who is the man who writes Sherlock all those disturbing letters?

Find it all out in Wordstrings aka Katie Forsythe's " All the best and Brightest Creatures.

@rey-jake-therapist @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @inevitably-johnlocked @johnlockficclub

[reportsgaysbr]

RELATO 06

Minha primeira vez com meu primo

Era 2010/2011 e eu e meu primo nós sempre fomos muito parecidos exceto pelo cabelo q o meu é loiro e o dele preto e eu sempre fui mais alto q ele. Eu sempre gostei de ajudar todo mundo, sempre fazia de tudo pra todos, acho q era assim pq eu morava com minha vó e com esse meu primo e ela precisava de ajuda sempre, então virou costume. Certo dia tava só eu e ele pq minha vó tinha ido no mercado e ele falou:

- primo, tu pode me ajudar la no fundo?

eu disse q sim e fui na inocência, chegando la ele falou q pra ajudar ele nós tinhamos q ficar pelados e como eu não entendia nada disso eu aceitei, ai ele falou pra au ajoelhar e o pau dele foi endurecendo e ele falou pra eu por a boca q tinha gosto de pirulito e eu fui mas minha boca era muito pequena e o pau dele era muito grande uns 17cm então não entrava direito mas eu fui pegando o jeito de mamar até que ele me virou de costas me deitou no chão e começou a esfregar o pau dele na minha bundinha, ele tentou enfiar mas não entrou ai ficou só esfregando até q ele começou a tremer e gozou na minha costa ai meu primo passou a mão na porra quente e deu pra eu chupar e eu chupei e engoli tudo

✍️Assinado: Membro anônimo